The Quest for Eric: Finale, Part III
Bleys is seated on the ground, leaning back against the stone slab on which Eric lies, Rhyddid still pierced through his midriff, manacled and bound by Karm seals. Bleys has crudely bandaged the leg wound that Eric gave him, not that it's provided him much comfort. He keeps watch, and waits for the others to wake or return.
Gone and come back, Emrys is in fresher clothes - and these include two new decorations. One in the form of a silver breastplate with a wolf's head design and the other a thick gold chain about his neck and a suspended, glowing red gem. He stares at his father, chained in suspended animation on the slab.
Bleys regards Emrys with a sort of grim envy. He has not moved from where he was when Emrys left. He makes a gesture at the body upon the slab. "What do you intend now?" he inquires.
Emrys squats down in front of Bleys, a few feet distant. "Purging," he says with his own grim expression. "If Corwin's tale is right, then whatever possesses him responds to the Pattern. Can you or your blade....radiate that essence?"
Deirdre has slept, and now that she's awoken, she looks to be in a worse mood than she had been before. Perhaps this is why she's not speaking, and is instead focused on rebinding her leg and seeing to the other wounds she's gained in this quest.
Bleys asks, "This possessor responds to the Pattern?" He tilts his head back against the cold of the stone, turning his face to the side to glance down the length of Eric's body, in thoughtful assessment. "I'm not confident that is the case," he decides after a moment of silence. "Perhaps instead it is Eric that responds to it. That the sword in him kindles the inherent power in his blood, the power that burns through the blood of our father and thus through us, and that the Pattern awakens, unlocking the command over the Shadows."
Emrys shrugs. "Semantics, as either result might lead to casting off the burden."
Emrys admits, "If I thought we could force it, making him walk the Pattern might be a great start."
Random comes from the outskirts of where everyone is sitting, smoking a cigarette. "There's also the matter of his wound," he points out.
"Not exactly semantics," Bleys counters. "If the Pattern strengthens Eric, then increasing its presence around him might assist him in truly regaining control and forcing out this possessor, rather than simply wresting back a portion of command over his body. If the Pattern holds the thing at bay, then we would be best served finding a way to hold it with a Pattern-based seal, one that is not accompanied by an otherwise fatal wound."
Emrys looks over to nod at Random. "That, too. I saw Celeste earlier; she's willing to come." He looks back to Bleys. "Either way, you didn't answer the question on if you can do it."
Random wonders, "Why can't we force a Pattern walk? You can strap him to my back, trump me through, and I'll carry him through it." He seems confident.
Bleys answers Emrys with, "I can. But it has no effect on Order. Else I'd have prevented that old man with Eric from using his power."
Emrys asks Random, "Could you walk the Pattern while he struggled against you? I'd be happier if it were his own feet walking the lines." He looks back to Bleys. "I'd like to try it, just to see. Perhaps bring Fiona in. Or Caine. The place responded to Corwin well enough, maybe Caine can push some discomfort in and give father a fighting chance."
Random sucks down a drag. He answers with smoke coming out of his mouth, "I could. Though I guess the hope would be that he'd be able to do it on his own after a time."
Bleys scratches his beard. "Has anyone ever survived a walk of the Pattern, as a mere passenger?" he asks.
Emrys shrugs. "I've never tried it, heard or tried, or seen it done." He stands up, staring at the trees for a moment.
Movement from the edge of the standing stones reveals another redhead into the mix. The duchess steps into to the circle, absently brushing leaves frmo her skirt.
Emrys's red jewel pulses like a heartbeat as he studies Eric's body.
Bleys says, "I think taking Eric across the Pattern ought to be a last resort. Too dangerous, especially in his weakened state." He frowns. "One body. One owner. One unwelcome guest. What is it that anchors the guest in this body in particular?"
Random thinks about it, silently, only smoking.
"Before we try anything we need to make sure he can take the punishment," Emrys says. "Without breaking the seal, can you move your sword to a less life-threatening area, Bleys?"
The sword is stuck through the center of Eric's ribcage, below the heart, and the blade stopped when it hit something hard. Bleys considers this. "My sword," he points out, "is what is preventing Eric from continuing to bleed, or gush oil, or whatever it is that he does now. If I pull it out, that will no longer be the case." He glances at Lilith, gestures at her to come over, and asks, "Does the binding cause his blood no longer to circulate, or merely to do so slowly? If his heart still beats, with every beat, his vital fluids will pour out. If it does not, we might have a better chance of staunching the flow."
Lilith steps towards her husband, looking from Emrys to Bleys. "We should see to having your leg looked examined, dear. It cannot be good to let it stay like that." Her gaze again returns to the prone Eric. "I dont' think we need to make any changes until we know how we wish to proceed. Any false move could prove this trip worthless if we do not proceed with caution."
Emrys shakes his head. "No matter what we do, Lilith, it will need to be something father might reasonably live through. This is not some willy-nilly request, but one that will be the first step of any recovery plan. So can the sword be moved and restabbed in some other location without breaking your magics?"
Bleys shakes his head, having thus far stubbornly refused to do anything about his wound other than try to stop the bleeding. "We know too little about the nature of this possession. Can this thing even leave Eric at all, or is it inextricably now bound to the boy? Is it any easier to separate this thing from the body than it is to separate Eric from it?" Not quite joking, he says, "It might be easier to kill him, put him in an urn, and build him a golem to carry it around."
Deirdre, still silent, gives Bleys a look that might make one grateful that she doesn't have the ability to set people aflame with her mind.
Emrys hrms. "When a Weir dies, our spirit lingers in the realm of the dead. I've talked to Taleyn that way before, while my body was dead. And I know they can hold people places, command the dead. There's nothing to say we couldn't kill him, if we had a Feldane and a Mandrake around to make sure he came back." He digs out trumps, shuffling as he thinks on this.
Lilith says, "any move taken against the Seal could prove too costly. The blade isnt' presently killing him, so I see no reason why we would need to remove it only to reinsert in another locale. Save that the two wounds may prove far more costly."
RPG: Emrys studies a Trump.
Emrys stares at a trump.
Bleys nods acknowledgement at Lilith. "That settles that, at least," he says. He uses the slab to lever himself up, and sits down upon the stone itself, wincing with the movement. "When things come back from the dead," he says to Emrys, "do we not usually term them revenants?"
Emrys is standing in a ring of stones. He looks better than last time Celeste saw him. "Got your kit?"
Emrys says, "We have a few people wounded and a discussion on other matters, if I might take you for a while."
Celeste appears suddenly, grasping Emrys's hand.
Celeste has arrived.
Celeste comes through with a satchel on one shoulder and her black doctor's bag in hand.
Emrys releases Celeste's hand. "Bleys and Deirdre both have the more pressing wounds, I think. It's making them grumpy." He looks back at his trumps, considering the thick stack, then finally putting them away for a moment.
Celeste looks around and wrinkles her nose, "Alright. Well, I'm used to grumpy princes and princesses. Thanks for the warning." She looks around for the patients, her eyes going from slate to a vibrant sterling silver as she does.
Deirdre insists, firmly, "I am not grumpy." She is, however, haphazardly bandaged.
And, of course, there's a chained up Eric with a sword through his chest on an altar. But that's not an urgent wound at the moment.
Bleys is sitting on the stone slab that Eric is manacled to. He's taken a sword cut across a calf, which he's bandaged by the coldly expedient route of bleeding sufficiently that his clothing has formed a compress, reinforced by some strips of cloth. "I am always the epitome of good nature," he states.
Emrys pulls out his own cigarettes and lights one up. He watches Random a moment, then Eric. "So it seems we have three options, three routes to try. Unless any of you have something else to add? I see no way around this other than through experimentation. We'll never hit upon something that we just know will work that everyone can agree on."
Lilith leans close to Bleys's side while still studying the Eric. Her skirts have been tattered during the night, torn to reveal sharp helled boots. "Always?" She asks in an aside to Bleys.
Celeste frowns at Deirdre, "That looks unpleasant." her silvered eyes find Bleys and her frown deepens and she says without hesitation, "You first, Prince Epitome." She strides over and kneels. Her kit is opened, "Lay back, please, I'll need to keep the leg elevated while I work."
Bleys smiles brilliantly. "Always." He says to Emrys, "There is always the possibility of subjecting him to as much Chaos as possible, and seeing if it will do anything to the thing." He waves Celeste off, and says chivalrously, "You should tend to my sister first, Lady Celeste."
Emrys nods. "I'll see if Caine's busy, then." He takes his cards back out.
Lilith hmms softly and actually offers her hands to Celeste. "Eric may take up too much. I can hold him if you need," she suggests with a glance back to Emrys. "Are we getting a census on what to do with him?"
"It's quite alright," Deirdre says, with a flick of her left hand. "She's already next to you. None of the wounds will kill me, only discomfort." She looks to where Eric lies, and frowns.
"On what to do? No, on how to do it, yeah." Emrys shuffles.
Celeste says, "I will, just do it for me so there's less blood loss, makes my work easier." She moves over to Deirdre and kneels, looking over Deirdre. She begins with the gash on the thigh, "Any numbness, tingling, muscle spasms or feelings of cold?"
RPG: Emrys studies a Trump.
Emrys is in a ring of standing stones. "Family meeting. You want in?"
Emrys nods. "We may need your... special talents."
Caine appears suddenly, grasping Emrys's hand.
Caine has arrived.
Deirdre looks down to Celeste and shakes her head. "No, to all of the above," she assures. The wounds are neat, though deep. Perfect, one could even say. The epitome of what sword cuts should look like, and there is no sign of infection. Just blood.
Caine comes through with a grunt at Emrys and takes a quick, assessing look around.
Deirdre is being tended by Celeste. Bleys is sitting on the slab that holds a chained Eric (sword through chest), and Lilith is near her husband. Random's at the side, Emrys has trumps, a cigarette, and briefly a Caine but the latter is released quickly enough.
Caine's gaze snags on the figure of Eric there, and he seems much less surprised by the sword through his lost brother than the fact that he's -there-. Everyone else gets a general nod of greeting, and it's a wary gesture.
Celeste is knelt beside Deirdre with an open Doctor's bag. She works quickly and efficiently. Flushing the wound, tending to flowing blood, stitching closed wounds with well practiced motions and then bandaging the cut swiftly. Burns are given similar if somewhat less hurried touch. They are flushed, gently given antibiotic salve, and bandaged, "You'll need to follow up later." she advises. She glances towards Eric and notes, "Sword can be surgically removed, perhaps." she observes before moving back to Bleys.
"Sword's required to be in him until we decide on something else," Emrys comments.
Bleys nods greeting to Caine. "It's possible," he tells Caine without any further preamble, "that the thing which inhabits Eric will be repelled by the presence of Chaos. Of course, it is also possible that the resulting reaction might directly damage Eric's body or own spirit."
"Thank you," Deirdre says to Celeste, with a faint smile. Looking up, she lifts her chin in greeting to Caine.
Caine looks to Bleys and nods, grimacing. "I'll... take your advice on this matter." Responsibility for possible terrible things, neatly handed off.
Lilith says, "is there the possibility that it could also operate as a possession. Such as only being able to be linked of those of your bloodline? Perhaps Lady Celeste would be able to help us determine exactly what the sword is lodged in."
Emrys finds a standing stone to lean against. He takes a drag on his cigarette, looking thoughtful.
Bleys agrees, "Because this is Order, I would not discount the possibility that the thing resides in machinery that has been implanted into Eric." He regards Celeste's approach uncooperatively, though.
Celeste looks to Bleys with open curiosity but doesn't ask. Caine is given a wary look. She looks to Lilith, "These things are usually corporeal representations of a larger metaphysical quandary. I suspect it's not that easy as I could only tell you it's effect on his body and life energies, which may be a symptom of a larger condition which Prince Bleys or Emrys would be more likely to notice." she blinks and stares at Bleys, "Order?" She looks to Eric and pales for some reason, "...that's hardly comforting."
Caine gives Celeste a dry look at her prognosis of the condition of being inhabited by a Power, but says nothing as he pats pockets for cigarettes of his own.
Lilith nods and offers a small nudge to Bleys. "Your highness, she needs to look at your leg. I can assist if you need, Lady Celeste." Her expression and tone remaining neutral, paying more attention to the prone prince.
Emrys tells Caine, "It's Chaos, or push the Pattern through him, or kill him and hope the thing leaves and then bring him back. Those are the three options so far. Assuming, of course, that it doesn't want to leave for this." He flicks the reg gem at his chest.
Deirdre moves closer to Caine, now, perhaps intending to bum a cigarette off of her brother. Or to simply be closer to the brother with the sword through his chest.
Celeste looks down at Bleys and mutters, "Oh, fine. If you're going to be a pain about it I'll take care of it another way." Her time exasperated, "It requires nothing of you except your hand, please."
Eric's arm moves, suddenly, grasping at the jewel around Emrys's neck.
Caine glances to Emrys, the bauble he has on him, and back to Eric. "I will keep my pessimism to myself and see what happens." He finds smokes, offers the battered pack to Deirdre first. His offer freezes there as Eric moves.
Emrys jumps back when the chained-up Eric reaches towards him. "Bloody hell," he says. "I think we're going to need stronger bindings.
Bleys offers a hand to Celeste, reluctantly. His hands bear the sign of a recent light chemical burn of some sort, the skin faintly discolored. And then, he too freezes. He's lying on the slab at Eric's feet, and he rapidly tries to sit up.
Deirdre is reaching for the pack when she, too, freezes. "Shit," she intones, lowly. Her free hand grasps for an axe that is not there.
Celeste looks down at Bleys and mutters, "Oh, fine. If you're going to be a pain about it I'll take care of it another way, Just give me your ha-..." she looks up as Eric moves, "Be careful, Emrys. He's suspended but the moment whatever it is arresting the normal flow of life energies he's going to have to be treated immediately."
The hand flops back down. The rest of the body doesn't move at all.
This, of course, would be the time when there is an ominous squelching noise from the treeline around them. It might recall to mind, for those who delivered Eric here, the dead giant slug-like things that were scattered upon the ground along with the remnants of Bleys's mauled squad of soldiers, when they arrived.
"That's fucking creepy," Caine comments.
Emrys grunts. And then he's looking to the treeline, making sure he's out of arm's reach, or leg's reach, of the Eric-thing too.
Celeste says, "Try not to make him move until the swords out, that can only make my job harder." She mutters to Lilith, "Keep an eye on them and let me know if they get him free? I'm going to be indisposed and unable to respond for about a minute but no longer."
Celeste takes Bleys hand and her eyes glaze over.
Deirdre agrees, with Caine, "Not good." She forsakes the pack of cigs to instead draw out her sabre. Which, thankfully, was not left behind in the clockwork palace like her axe was.
Caine tucks the cigs away again and merely readies, glancing at the treeline.
There's a rustle of movemnt from the cave and nearby area. Animals, dears and rabbits scamper through the forest but in a sea of animals.
Not far behind them there is the promise of tanned flesh and leather. The first to arrive are tall women nearly six feet in height and russet haired. Behind them is a woman clothed in animal pelts and stands nearly a head taller than the others. Her hair is a vibrant green of leaves on a summer day. Each armed with bows and a small arsenal about their person, and their attention fully on the sacred circle and those who would defile it.
Emrys flicks his cigarette down in the circle, further defiling it. "Anyone feel like negotiating?" His sword is drawn, a silver similar to that of the breastplate he wears.
As soon as Bleys feels what Celeste is doing, in the charge of an injury absorption, he tries to wrench his hand out of her grip and push her away. "This is not yours to bear!" he snaps at her.
Deirdre says, "Bleys, if you do not mind, we have MORE PRESSING problems at the moment."
The circle is about to get crowded, for new defilers arrive: things that look like giant leeches the size of large dogs, with feet like centipedes, and maws filled with evil-looking teeth. They bear the taint of the Road upon their pulsating bodies.
"No one reserved this spot for the next few hours?" Caine murmurs, looking first to the nature Amazons, then quickly to the leeches, his homies.
Emrys keeps one of the standing stones between himself and the amazons. His sword goes in the ground and he starts to take the jerkin off, letting it fall before he retrieves the sword again.
The Royals have joined a fight, intentional or inadvertently, when the first wave of arrows are lifted aloft to scatter into the encroaching bugs.
The white haired woman shimmers and what is left behind is a mountainous bear in all the greens and browns of the forest. A thunderous roar echoes through the stones. Beast and warriors charging towards the circle.
Celeste grunts as she's pushed away flat on her ass, "One: You weren't letting me treat you. Two: They need you intact for this and you're a more valueable asset until the point I start doing surgery with my feet. Three: I can reverse it at your pleasure. Goddamn moron. Make up your mind." Her tone irritated. She looks up, "Aw, sonofa..." she looks down at Bleys, "How you at fighting mounted?"
Bleys stares at Celeste, then shouts, "Someone give me a sword!" Because his, of course, is currently embedded in Eric.
Emrys tosses his saber to Bleys. "Here." He does, after all, have other ways of fighting.
Lilith is already re-drawing her gladius and offering it to Bleys while reaching for her dagger. "Oh bloody.." she begins and her voice is drowned out by the howl.
Caine draws his rapier as the arrows start, and he moves closer to the large slab Eric is pinned on like a specimen. It offers some cover, anyway.
Bleys catches Emrys's sword with a nod of thanks.
Some of the arrows strike home, and one of the leeches explodes in a messy fountain of an acidic, foul-smelling blood.
Emrys begins to shimmer towards a wolf. It's a faster change than was had in the Palace of Clockwork, for those that might notice.
Celeste steps away and her breathing alters rapidly. She still clutches her bag but as she rapidly begins to swell and grow with amazing speed and sudden furnace-like blast of heat. She falls to all fours and wings sprout out of her back and a tail springs from her spine. Almost before her scales finish taking form she's on her scaled knees beside Bleys, "Don't touch the crest."
Deirdre, being an intelligent woman, makes herself as small of a target as she can to avoid the arrows. She sizes the amazonian women up and, with a smirk, moves forward to engage in battle with them. At this rate, her stitches will never keep.
Caine takes a position with the stone alter between him and arrows. This unfortunately faces him against the leeches, which... don't lunge for him with immediate hostility. From Caine's readiness, there's no secret handsigns between the Road-tainted folks to indicate any safety, however. The prince stabs at leeches within range.
Once fur and fangs are had, Emrys bounds off for the Black Road creatures, rather than the amazons and their bear-goddess. While he has no pack with him, and none to direct, he still howls, the sounds the kind of things to strike fear into hearts even in Weirmonken. He leaps at one of the beasties, mouth open to try to bite through a ...is that a neck?
Goddess and warriors fight indiscriminately. They fall upon the circle, bows tossed aside in lieau of swords. There is a fluidness to their motions. Blades strike out at the insects and those that remain within the circle.
Bleys boggles at the dragon-Celeste. "Surely you're kidding," he says incredulously, gesturing with Emrys's silver saber at the rather limited room available in the clearing, space that is rapidly being filled by the carpet of giant leeches drawn to Eric's Ordered body. He stumbles to his feet, and takes a jab at a gaping leech-mouth.
Lilith turns her attention to the nearest of the insects and putting some distance between the standing stones and herself.
A tainted catepillar goes down, spurting its foul blood into Emrys's mouth. It's apparently not a pleasant taste, from the reaction. But once one enemy is down, the next is looked for, leaped at.
Celeste rises and leaps high into the air, wings flapping but managing to gain clearance enough in her initial leap that those nearby are spared anything more than sudden gusts of wind passing as Celeste rises into the air and turns to begin swooping down to attack the foe, Sharp teeth, razor talons, a downright dangerous tail lend themselves to the cause as well.
Deirdre's blows have more force than fluidness, and there is a set to her brows that comes from concentration.
Caine keeps his rear foot against stone as his rapier works, his free hand coming up with a longish dagger for additional defense. He fights at the head end of the Eric-bearing altar, his stabs, cuts and slashes steadily turning him into a gory mess.
Emrys is a creature of nightly forays, of deadly hunts and primal fear. He leaps, slashes, bites throats, and gets his fur matted with nasty black blood.
Bleys defends the foot of the altar, his lack of easy mobility limiting his panache, and his cloak comes into play more as a splatter shield than as stylish gesture. Where leech-blood spatters, it hisses and bubbles. Still, leeches collapse goopily in a circle around Bleys, as wave after wave swarm the circle.
Lilith throws herself into the fight with the same style as the evening before. The first strike drives back her prey only to have her whip the blade around in deadly strikes.
Celeste chomps and shakes her head issuing a protesting roar as she like Emrys discovers the foul taste, but she persists, her scales covered in ichor and her talons dripping. She manages to avoid casting gore on her companions. Well. Mostly.
Caine meets the incoming blade of an Amazon with his dagger, slicing open thighs there before turning back to the leeches. His now-constant litany of cursing only adds to the defiling. But dat's what he does best.
Emrys's tail gets stepped on by one of the beasts and it makes him yowl out, turning quickly to attack the thing that snuck up on it.
Deirdre's blade twists and slashes, impales and decapitates. She fights both humanoids and slug-things as they come, taking new wounds but certainly giving more than she receives.
There's steely hisses and dull 'thunks' as attacks land on thick scaled hide revealing perhaps why Celeste those the form without opposable thumbs. Shallow cuts show amidst the gore but they hardly bleed and to watch her she only gives minimal effort to avoid attacks, almost entirely offensive as she swoops in a moving blender of claws and teeth.
A beautiful song rises above the trees. Notes that call to the spirit of a man and reminiscent of a siren's song. Yet as the song continues it is exactly like the soulful music of a siren. It does not stay the insects but instead reaches into the heart's of men.
An honor guard of amazons stand around their goddess. The bear has disappeared once more into the lithe animal-clad form of a goddess.
Caine is given to punting bug bodies out the way, sending them slithering and flying out of the stone circle and into their fellows. He glances briefly up at the sound of song, in a 'f*ck what now' way.
Teeth and claws find only one more opponent to rip through and then Emrys's golden eyes are finding nothing more to attack in the form of black road creatures. The sound of the siren song has him lifting his own voice. A wolf's voice. Growls, barkings, howls to counter.
Though the carpet of crimson-black leech-slugs seems endless, it does, in the end, prove finite. What's left of the daylight shimmers off their wet, rubbery flesh, glints on pointed teeth, and flashes off stabbing blades... but when the defenders of the circle look to the treeline, no further leeches are coming. At least not yet. Those left in the circle are likely to soon be made short work of, but the goddess whose sacred place has now been thoroughly defiled by the splattered innards of hundreds of leeches might be another matter.
The siren song calls to the men, a tug that evokes the desire to protect and serve the goddess, to go to her and do her bidding, which surely must be to cleanse the circle of these invaders.
Bleys, upon hearing it, automatically goes into a defensive stance with his blade, brow furrowing in concentration, until he recalls that he does not hold Rhyddid. He half starts towards the Pattern blade, but stops himself.
On four legs Emrys runs towards the Amazons. He zigs. He zags. He tries not to be an easy target before he can leap into the fray.
Caine is a cynical bastard, and only spits gore out of his mouth in response to the song. The aim of the singing doesn't escape him, and he tosses his dagger into a throwing position, eyeing his male relatives.
Celeste's head lifts and the air practically vibrates in a roar. No more immediate foes she circles, wings pumping and churning air as she scans the area and does a quick once over of her patients.
Lilith notices the attention the skewered prince garners and steps into the circle again to fend off any who may try and pull the blade from him.
Deirdre has not paused in her fighting, but she does notice the change in the song. "Cover their ears," she shouts out, being one well aquainted with myths that involve feminine power.
Bleys pauses. Why is he trying to draw his sword? He's holding a perfectly nice sword right now. He should go present it to the goddess. Yes, that definitely sounds like a plan. He turns, in a splendid flare of the cloak (not quite perfect, for it is stiff and in places soggy with gore), and strides boldly towards the goddess, though none too steadily, thanks to the leg wound he still has from Eric.
Once close enough, Emrys-wolf tries leaping into one of the amazons, to push her back under the weight of impact against the forest goddess. He growls, fangs bared. Go away and I won't bite, it says.
Caine must also be well-aquainted with sirens, and watches Bleys now. His eyes narrow, and he studies his brother, looking for him to, perhaps, pull a clever and attack from close range.
Celeste circles, "What the hell?" her voice carries from her height.
Amazon move fluidly around the goddess. This not the first time such a tactic as been employed and some go down beneath the wolf's attack. The goddess stands back some from the amazons and the waves do not close fully behind her.
For whatever reason Emrys doesn't attack the goddess. Perhaps some internal directive won't allow that. Instead, he moves amongst the amazons with savage intent. Also, they taste better than the centipedes.
Deirdre hacks, and slashes, her way through some of the amazons that move to protect their goddess. Her attention is clearly on the goddess, however, her intent clear. She has no issues with tangling with the supposedly divine, it would seem. Blades clash, and Dee takes a nasty stab to her right side, below the rib cage. But she doesn't stop, not until a twist of her blade leaves the sabre buried into the goddess's chest.
Shock registers in the eyes of the goddess before she discorporates in a puff of leaves and the scent of morning dew in the forest. The warriors disappear along with her, and there is silence in the clearing, save for the last squelchings of the slugs.