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| Image Source: http://huussii.deviantart.com/art/The-Darkest-of-Our-Days-622188584 |
The column exploded in a burst of stone fragments and flame. Membel threw up his hand a pulled together a hasty shield from his divine aura. The swirling symbols flared a bright green and a ragged dome formed over his head blocking most of the stone pieces. Membel saw a light ignite to his left as Perlyenal enchanted an arrow and let fly at the corrupted ... thing that bore down on Membel. Behind the behemoth Membel could see the unconscious form of Larr partially buried in rubble and hoped that the champion's heavy armor would keep him from being crushed. Farther still Iaen wove some arcane work pulling words of power from memory and wrapping them into a swirl of energy around her staff.
Membel scooched backwards on his rear, throwing his sword up to deflect the creature's attacks. Once a divine servant this pitiful creature had fallen so far since the old gods had perished. The once beautiful form of a seraph had been corrupted and twisted by the parasitic influence of an insane raver that had somehow fused to the creature. The result was a twisted creature of divine flesh and divine iron, melded together in pain and madness. Whatever this creature now was it was immensely powerful and Membel feared that the fledgling pantheon would perish at the hands of this creature.
As the corrupted abomination reared back for another mighty swing Membel heard an agonized cry. Iaen! He dove to the side to avoid another crushing blow, the creature's hammer caught his left leg and searing white pain burst through Membel's nerves. The explosion that followed seemed almost dreamlike. The rain of seared flesh and molten iron stirred Membel from the brink of unconsciousness. The creature was gone, its remains miraculously strewn about the ruined temple.
"How?" he heard himself choke out over the pain in his leg.
Perlyenal was at his side, unnoticed, already applying healing hands to his leg. "Iaen's magic. I don't know how she-"
Perlyenal stopped mid sentence. Her face going ashen. Membel followed her gaze across the room. Iaen knelt on the rubble strewn floor clutching her staff. Her eyes were gone; bloody empty sockets above a blood curtained face. "It's .. it's done yes?" she asked in their direction. "I'll gladly bear the sacrifice if we have won the day." Membel and Perlyenal could hardly speak as understanding of the price of victory fell on them.
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