As he watched his truest friend in this world of Albion take a massive blow from the Evil beast, his Heart sunk an his throat tightened immediately. She, she above all others here, knew him, understood him, an kept him in check. He would rather lose his own life in this battle than her lose hers...he was even prepared fer it. His Heart cried out ta go to her...ta use his Gift...Yet he could not tear himself from this battle...this last battle...this, he knew, was it...if this battle was nae finished an victorious by the hands o man, then all the world would suffer fer it fer millenia ta come.


Then, he heard His Voice again...the Guardian of the Gate, who was the very essence of Love itself...spoke ta him one last time. "She will be safe...I have sent an Angel to speed her way back into your World. Fear not brave Tashtego!" These words rung in his ear, sendin chills down his spine, an sendin new hope coursin through him...an so he waited fer her...


Terrible this battle was...armor abused, battle scarred helm, metal white hot, shield almost useless, mace flyin true wit the Gift of Uriel, breathin labored, but wit all o tha a steadiness an easiness wit knowin tha Tash must be here...must aid in this last battle...ta spit his last breath at this foul beast if necessary...an so he fought...


Out o the corner o his eye, he saw her gasp fer air, he saw her move, he saw her bristle wit a newfound energy...a Gift of the Angel sent ta her no doubt...an he saw her take her sword in hand an charge back inta the heavy fray...a smile crept inta Tash's face, tho heavy inta battle, but he could nae help it..."Hail me fair Lady Azaeli" he casually said under labored breath...


Swing, parry, concussive blow after blow the sound o thunder wit each swing...an so it went on...

Prayers rose from behind him but Crispian paid them little mind. His sword arced through the air, his vigor fading some as Azi went down, but his determination was unflagged. Blows fell on the foe, on his shield, against his armor. He reeled under the pounding, seeing Azi flung back from a blow he could not block.


Even as the healing powers of Tobyas and Ceowyr swirled and cascaded, visible in the mayhem of combat, Crispian pressed on. Now, blind rage drove him where determination had before dwelt. His world narrowed to a single point of vision, his foe. All else fell away as it was want to at times.


He felt not a blow that struck him, nor did he countenance those his shield stopped. The Tower was long gone from the force of the blows, and his Caller Shard snapped as it turned a blow. With easy grace born of long battles fought, he drew from his back the sabre Lexi had crafted for him, untouched since news of her death had reached him.


The blade sang forth from the scabbard, only the third time in his career that Crispian had to use the blade he ever kept on his back. The hardened metal bit into Asteroth as he swung. Tears blinded him as he fought with all his heart and being. Skills long practiced became a part of him as never before.


With deft moves, he parried, turned blows on his shield, even managed a stunning blow against the foe with the face of his ruined tower shield. He was as one possessed of perfect clarity.


Nothing matter other than the fight, the foe, revenge for Azi. He heard Toby praying, felt the familiar healing power from him, and the power from Ceowyr, which felt different in some slight way. He registered the blows from the demon thing before him. He knew his left arm was shattered somewhere between hand and elbow, and but for the strapping of the shield, would have caused him to quit the field. He felt the throbbing pain in his shoulder, noting it was probably out of the joint. And he knew one rib was jabbing him sharply on the right.


But in the blinding fury of the moment, that all mattered not. Power and Purpose surged through him with such force that he pressed on. His blade was his arm, his shield was his arm, and he was one with all that he did, each move a perfect execution of skill. If he were to end now, his life done, he had, for this moment, become a perfect armsman.


Then, Azi was moving passed him in a rush, her mace raised high. Purity and grace surrounded her. Faltering eyes noted her rushing past him, even as Jashen yanked him back. Brother stood over brother, blades raised to take on the enemy, but skill lacking. With his heart in twain, Jashen strove to turn aside the great swings that would deprive him of brother from the foe who had already taken his love.

 

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Astraoth could not believe that these impudent mortals would attack him thus! Even as the glowing force struggled with his innermost soul to drown out his magic they swarmwed him.. Ants! He would feast on their essence for a hundred years and savour their pain!


A lucky arrows from the elven archer found it's way to the sword arm of the Vessel, slowing his mighty strikes, he swatted away one man, but the tenacious Crispian took many a blow he thought would have crushed the little briton. They began to circle him, those he parried with ease in front of him made room for attacks from those behind him. He was yet unskilled in physical combat, underestimating the complexity of fighting such well trained foes. Gradually he seemed to gain the upper hand, when he felt the blows of Tashtego, wrapped up in some bright and superhuman force against his calf.


The searing blows distracted Astaroth, ruining the Vessel behind his shin and sending molten slag spraying into the air.

As Crispian weathered another blow and Astraoth was forced to parry an arrows from the horse-archer he noticed that pious little girl Azaeli call upon her God. Now his emotions, things he thought were long behind him rise up. He smote the Paladin against the rocks, and would have followed with a death blow had not the fury and rage of Crispian and Tashtego distracted him.


A seemingly endless rain of blows came from the dancing figure of yardo, whriling back and forth in a terrible blur of assault. Even as Astaroth swatted at him his immense agility saved him fronm a backsweep that would have halfed him.

Astaroth swung the sword with unholy speed and swotted another arrow from the air, before slipping the blade through the air in a thrust at Tashtego. In concert he assaulted the armsman's mind, the last despair of Apolexia, the terror and sadness that had egulfed her was laid bear to Tash, for Astaroth had carefully watched it all.


Crispian joined Azaeli in a renwed attack, the young Paladin recovering from her seemingly mortal blow. As the deadly blow moved for Tashtegos' chest she drove her own blade deep into the Vessel, laughing with abandon and certainty that the rightious would proclaim victory this day.


Tashtego was a greater man than Astaroth guessed however. He accepted, welcomed and understood the pain that Astaroth showed him. He embraced it, and felt the final kinship with lexi he had sought in her life. Far from stunned he was energised by the feeling, enraged, riding the power Astaroth unleashed.

He brought his mace in both hand clashing with the ethereal blade, and knocked it off course. Astaroth, overreaching for a pinning thrust was off-balance for a moment, the same moment Azaeli drove her blade deep into his Vessel.


Sensing the moment for offence had come, Toorc relinquished the barrier of earth that had been employed to protect his friends, and called upon the elemental allies deep int the ground. A shuddering of the rocky ground told him his plea was answered!

As Astraoth was stumbling backwards, his rent leg causing him trouble, and the force of Azaeli's blow threatening to topple him, a wave of small rock-beings erupted from the ground and clung to Astaroth. Gibbering their odd noises they dragged him backwards, hundres of tiny hands grasping and clawing at him to topple the giant Vessel.


Howling in rage Astraoth was dragged back to the ground leaving him prone. A horrid cloud of withering fumes bellowed from his mouth, the fabelled Breath of Astaroth, but true to her word the magic rings Arcalan had forged prevented it doing it's fatal work.


Crispian surged forward, a well spring of strength untapped now pouring forth, and as Astaroth's mighty arm fell, he drove his sword through the palm, affixing it to the ground. Astaroth's sword was struck from his grasp and all the company fell upon the Veseel, beating wrenching hammering, Ceowyr and Tobyas, Tashtego and Crispian and Yardo...


In the midst of it all Azaeli still drove the sword deeper. She felt soemthing, an essence, resisting her, trying to throw her back, but yet she stood firm and drove ever harder. The writhing earth tugged and pulled holding Astaroth to the ground as he lashed as best he could against these swarming mortals!


The tip of Azaeli's blade found something, something deep and hidden in the Vessel. A thunderous cracking was heard, a ripping and tearing of metal that would forever remain in their minds fresh and loud as this first time they heard it. It was the sound of victory, as the Vessel split wide apart.


Azi looked down, down into the gaping abyss that no one else could see.. the maw of oblivion. Astaroth was before her, in all his terrible glory, his true form, a bottomless sucking pit. She gazed into the darkness and felt it's pull on her. He was trying to find a new home, trying to consume her very soul that he might have a new body.


The endless dark coiled about her in her mind's eye, she felt his grasp tighten around her soul...

Down and down it tried to take her, seeping into her, tightening it's grasp. In the real world a second passed, the dust was not even settled from the terrible rending of the Vessel, and yet Azi stood for hours at the brink of that Abyss.

No rock under her feet would hold her, no purchase was afforded her.

Yet she stood resolute. She came to realise, she was the anchor that kept her from falling. Too often had she succumbed to the unnatural possession and influences, but now she realised that for all time henceforth she would resist and beat the strongest of foes who sought to posess her. She was a tower of unmoveable strength, fixed, self-sure, grounded in God and confident in herself. She would bow to no outsider, she would not be taken into the Darkness, but she would become the Light!


Astaroth recoiled in horror. Her soul blazed forth a pure and awe-inspiring light, and he fled from her.. no other host her would house him.. the Vessel was destroyed and these tiny beings still stood against all odds! Bloodied, scarred and burnt, battered and bent, but not broken, he would find no house among them.

He felt the tug of the bindstones, he would rest there until an oppertunity arose, but here he would claim a pyrric victory before he left, he would kill them all for the setback of his conquest!


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Azi breathed again, the torn metal gargantuan was spread before them on the ground, a shattered Vessel of evil.

Crispian was shaking badly, his muscels threatened to snap and break free of his skin they were so exhausted.

Yardo kenlt in prayer, blood treaming down his face and sweat stinging his eyes. Jashen was not far from him, lying on his back but breathing and his eyes open. One of his blades was shattered, but he still held the hilt. Ceowyr still heaved blow after blow onto the helm of the Vessel, slowly, with heavy limbs.

Tobyas went to Crispian's side, his prayers and endurance spent utterly. He felt a momentary pang, but then the evil seemed to vanish. They were safe.

Asylyn looked down at the faithful steed that had carried him to battle. It lay dead, the poisonous gas had but touched it's flank and robbed the noble beast of life. He mourned it's passing though others saw this time as a triumph. Toorc leaned heavily on his staff, his eyes were closed and his heart beat with an unhealthy and irregular pulse. His skin was grey and his breaths laboured, but he was joyful in their safe passage through danger.


The sky above them churned. The bald head and cruel eyes of Astaroth formed from the very darkness of the clouds, his lips drawn back in an evil sneer, his high cheekbones and pointed features given form by shadow and the hollow power of the Qlippoth, bent to his will. The mouth opened and he chanted a foul and ancient tongue, a deep and abiding malediction.


Where wounds had closed, perhaps even for many years they again sprung open on the Heroes flesh. Their ears bled and their eyes strained to burst forth from their sockets, the dreadful intonations from this undying foe striking at thier inner spirit and their flesh.


In answer to his death-curse, the Vessel seemed again to shake and curl up, and then from out of it flew the golden threads of energy, into the mouth of Astaroth. Screaming and cursing them, his spell abated and once more they slumped exhausted from the fight. In the heavens above them the two powers held forth locked into mortal duel, taking many forms and circling one another in a last and desperate battle for survival.

Serpent and woman now lent fire and pulsing light to the sky. The sun, moon and stars were drowned out by their furious light, and the land resouded with a fearsome fiery clash as the two forces locked and spun apart.

Crispian's rib was making breathing painful, yet the sight of that woman, golen and red, made of fire but icy cold, her skin crackling with lightning and a look of calm determination in her eyes, brought him comfort. He knew her of old, not an angel, but not like any mortal either...


Astaroth was a burning purple snake, with the head of a man, svae for the forked tongue and serpentine eyes. He slithered across the sky, winding, striking, crushing and coiling, each time thrown back, cast down, blocked by the golden woman.

His form began to die, too long without a host, too much enegry was spent, yet relentlessly this woman assaulted him with her staff and her searing touch.


At last he knew he could fight her no longer and fled, he made for the Bindstone where he could seek refuge, streaking towards the land of Snowonia. But her iron grasp caught him and held him tight, he bit her, cursed her in all the languages of men and elves, trolls, kobold and dwarvish, but her grip held him fast. Writhing, struggling his form became a man, robed in ancient garments, he called upon his magics, but nothing came, he flailed at her, his skin greying and his eyes dimming.

he sent his soul towards the far place he had been in exile, but she would not let go.

He tried to burrow into Darkness Falls, but still her grasp let him slip not an inch.


"Astaroth" said her voice, sweet yet resounding and fearsome "For your malice I repay you in kind, you wanted eternal life, unnatural and evil; I give you oblivion, I snuff out your soul forever more... I command you.. be not!"

And thus saying the form of Astaroth wilted and faded, it's last scream dying on the wind.


The woman smiled down at them all, and spoke again.

"For a time I lived among you, until my purpose was complete. Now I must wander once more. She that carried me alseep for so long was unworthy of the task." and they looked upon the corpse of Arcalan, pale and still in the golden woman's hand. "et she was not wholely unworthy of life, denied her by Astaroth. Therefore I do restore it, and depart!"

With that she vanished, gone frome their sight and their world.


The sky cleared, the sun shone again upon them all. Arcalan opened her eyes, and drew breath.

I am in awe..

Ayslyn knelt down and gently closed the horses' eyes. He began to softly sing a song; a song as old as the land, in a language old as time itself. It was a song of great open plains and sweet grasses, of cool, swift running streams and warm, bright sun shining down from a brilliant blue sky. It was a song of the strength of the herd, and the might of the spirit. He patted its neck and said, "Thank you my friend. Rest well. You did all that was asked of you."


He frowned greatly as the golden spirit made her proclamation of Arclan's unworth. "Unworthy? Feh! Worth is not determined by what you do day by day, in times of comfort and repose, buy by where you stand in the end, in the times of chaos, and turmoil." he walked over to the newly revived cabalist and offered her his hand. "This lass made many mistakes, this is indisputable. But when the time came, she stood up and fought to bring this evil down. That makes her pretty damn worthy in my eyes, and who would know better than a Champion of a Goddess?" he smiled gently. "There are none so lost, as they can not find their way back."

 

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Feeling blood welling, Crispian none the less waved both healers off. "Tend to the others, friends. Make sure they are well." He sat heavily against a rock, eyes closing slowly against the pain.


Had this been what all the months had been leading to? This moment? This conflict? He wonder what the aftermath would be, and how they would weather it. Groaning softly, he shifted his weight as he thought.


"Not this time, Cris, no playing the hero," Jashen said quietly, cradling his left arm against his own chest. "Toby is going to tend your wounds, and you are going to shut up about it." His gray eyes were flinty and stern as he looked at his brother. "Are we clear?"


Crispian thought about protesting but did not have the fight in him. "Alright. Just don't sic Azi on me," he said around a grin.

 

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Tobyas knelt beside Crispian. His armor, fine red and gold, was scorched and seered. Sweat plastered his hair to his head, and his green eyes were lined with fatigue. "I hope that's all out of your system, Cris. Charging against death like that." He shoook his head as he probed at the dent in Crispian's breastplate. "Oh, that's deep one."


Crispian winced as Toby pressed in. "OW! Dammit, that hurts!" he snapped.


Toby set his jaw firmly and met Crispian's stare. "Oh, it hurts? Is that it, Mister Rush-in-and-attack-the-giant-foe-from-hell? It hurts? Well, listen here. I may have been gone from the League these past weeks aiding Bandio, but rest assured that I shall be returning to keep a proper eye on you." All the unspoken things that passed at the moment between them made Crispian blush.


"I don't know who is going to be worse, you or Azi," he quipped weakly, allowing Toby to continue his examination of the wounds.


The cleric raised his eyes from Crispian's shoulder and smirked. "Oh, I'll be worse, rest assured, m'lord Seneschal!"

Tears spilled down Azi's cheeks as she propped herself up on her elbows. Her head was spinning. The abyss was still clear as day still before her, though she knew the ordeal was over. Tash groaned at her side and she slid near to him and rested a hand on his heaving chest.


"Alright, Tash?" she looked into his eyes to see them full of tears, and let her own flow freely. His red hair dripped with sweat and ash as he nodded and sat upright. He slung a heavy arm across her shoulder and pulled her into an embrace.


"I thought I lost ye, me fair lady Azaeli," he cried. His plated shoulder pressed her cheek as she peered out at the others. Arcalan lay still beside the body of her horse. Crispian looked awful, battered and bloody, but he seemed to be more bothered by the fuss that Jashen and Tobyas were making over him than his serious injuries. She couldn't help but smile at his tenacity.


As Cowyn came to tend thier wounds, her gaze fell on her own fallen mount, and then to Ayslyn and his steed beside them. She'd heard a sweet singing up until now and realized it must have been the elf, though her own thoughts had kept her from hearing him fully until now.


"Unworthy? Feh! Worth is not determined by what you do day by day, in times of comfort and repose, buy by where you stand in the end, in the times of chaos, and turmoil." he walked over to the newly revived cabalist and offered her his hand. "This lass made many mistakes, this is indisputable. But when the time came, she stood up and fought to bring this evil down. That makes her pretty damn worthy in my eyes, and who would know better than a Champion of a Goddess?" he smiled gently. "There are none so lost, as they can not find their way back."


"Ayslyn," Azi called hoarsely as she reached an arm out to him. He patted his faithful horse a final time and crept to her side with the grace only an elf posesses.


"Ayslyn," she rested her arm across his shoulders, "I think you misheard. Look." She nodded to Arcalan's sprawled form, pale and beaten. Her robes snapped in a gust of wind as the sun burst from the cloudy sky. Even Crispian in his injured state turned to look as Arcalan drew a gasping breath and open her eyes.


Azi rolled to her knees and then to unsure feet. She made her way to shakily to Arcalan's side and knelt beside her. "Arcalan.." She looked down at the woman who she had so much reason to hate. Thier eyes met in brief understanding. Then, as she done with her own sister so many times, Azi kissed Arcalan's forehead softly and drew her into a warm embrace. "Thank God we have all lived through this!"