Brought to Light - Sophia, Toustain, Volundr, Harina

[Unter]

For the first time in her life, Sophia was relieved that someone that could be innocent died. Before, she was always so sure of her task. She only killed heretics, men wicked enough to invade her proud country or renounce her faith. But now... She just wanted the screaming to stop. Make it stop. She would not make the Light go away. It was just a trick, a faithless trick to make her renounce safety, renonce her faith. 

And she resented Toustain for giving in to it. Even Vol, the one who should be unaccostumed to the Light's way, knew that it was a fool's errand to abandon it. She quickly said.

"No."

She brought the torch away from Toustain.

"No. You won't extinguish it. I won't let you doom us all ! Whatever comes, we face it under the Light. Whatever comes, it dies under the Light !"

She closed the leather pouched that contained her holy tome. And bared her shorter blade. She would not die here, not now. 

"Let us advance and cleanse this place. Please Toustain, get a hold of yourself. It seems it's going to get much, much worse."

And she hated every step she had to make to go forward. She hated that she face ennemies that craved the Light.
And she hated that she already wanted to flee, leaving the other behind. Was she that weak ? She needed to bring her determination forward. 

The Light would prevail.

[Kidney]

Underneath the darkened skies, the cries of the skinned man ceased as Volundr plunged an iron stake through his bleeding heart. As the man began to expire, he choked forth one last word, "Run." 

The rasping wheeze that followed it hallowed the ground around them in silence, and as the stake left the man, a gushing wave of blood spattered over his exposed muscles and the ground before the tribesman. As he turned away and faced the group, it was the haunting absence of sound that isolated the members within this village of Lypus they so trekked forward into. 

Beyond the sign and beyond the outskirting buildings slowly in the process of being abducted by the wild, laid the town. Far from quirky, it was the eerie yet casual sameness to the Hamlet that first stuck out to be odd, from this vantage point the party had sight of a selection of homes, pressed far too close together. Beyond them now, peeking over the quaint buildings was what appeared to be a church, with its roof looking as if burst from the inside out.

As the group continues to sit, bathed within the light, nothing seemed to stir. Though, the longer the light remained lit, the more a presence seemed to press down upon the lightbearers. A dark, violating presence that almost caressed as much as it weighed down.

Above them, another light darted across the sky.

[rosallora]

The man utters one last word as the others stubbornly keep the torch lit. Her eyes glance up at the sky, the gathering clouds still leaving enough light for her to navigate by if need be. And yes... the need had presented itself with its gruesome face. Her soul burns with urgency, and by the time that the other has made her opinion known, a sternness in her voice... Toustain has made a decision.

"I'm going," she says. She takes a step back from them, precursory, stepping further onto the cursed ground. She doesn't want to part from them. It scares her more than she can say, but she cannot bear the thought of not heeding the warning. Not with the man so bitten and mauled saying them, not with horror hanging in the air with the smell of rotten flesh. "You..." her brow furrows. "I pray you make it to safety. I pray I make it there."

She turns on heel. And she bolts, away from the comfort of the flame. Away from its warmth and into the muggy, thick air. She breathes quickly, feeling blind, feeling lost not twenty paces in. But she must run. She must for that is what echoes in her mind. She ducks under branches, keeping the road in view, eyes scanning the dirt for signs of hoofprints, wagon wheels, or bootprints. She aims herself toward the lonely house, picking up her pace. Run. Run.

[EloHim]

"Good luck then. Go" - he didn't waste time on Toast. She was an inexperienced scaredy-cat, just like any other mainlander who never smelled big battles. She was cute scaredy-cat, he gave her that. But still, that is a useless quality in this place. Unless you're hoping for getting caught and kept for...pleasure rather than death. Not a good fate to have.

He increased the speed of his stepps, holding his hammer and shield in his hands. Battle-ready.Battle-hungry. His head is cold, but his heart sings its own warsong.
The warsong of his people.
"We need to move. And quickly. With element of surprise gone - we would be safer torching the whole place to the ground. Good tactic for flushing out those that choose to hide. Let your Flame take care of most problems and then deal with the rest. And that guy who ordered the whole thing can stuff their ash down his throat if he wants to have a chat with them. What'd ye think? In the name of Light, Appelion and other gods that may or may not be there for us,eh?" - he chuckled at the last one.

He didn't need to invoke the names of his own gods to know they are with him. Surtr will be pleased. The torches were the first thing on his backpack, accessible for the torchbearer at shortest notice. Though even the occasional stick may work just fine for that amount of dry wood around.

The offer probably was the thing that will buy them time. One lonely torch - it was nothing. But burning village - now that would be a good distraction. Or attraction. Both would work and probably do half of the job for them. If not the whole. They are tasked with getting rid of the cultists...and bringing some in. Well, if they are going to be lucky they might catch somebody running away.

[Unter]

She felt anger now. White and hot. Anger at the situation she was in. Anger at herself for feeling so dispaired for nothing. Anger for the creatures that dared defile her haven. Anger at Toustain for leaving them.

Anger at this place, for it had forsook the Light.

It felt like things moved in the air, around them, even in the faithless ground. They needed to move fast. Very fast. Her steps became quicker and quicker, and nearly came to battle speed. Not a run. She wasn't run. Not away, at least. 

They needed to be fast, and to burn everything from this blasted ground.

'You're right, Volundr. We need to move quickly. By the Light, I shall burn every single blasted brick from this forsaken place, I swear it !"

And never before had she broke an oath. But never before had she been on this situation. She moved and moved, armoured foot after armoured foot, hand clutching her torch and her sword. 

She moved where she instinctely thought Toustain "ran" away. At least it was the good side of the battle.

If you don't know where to go, go forward. That's the way of the Light.

[relentless]

|| Harina ||

Her smile only seemed to grow at the show of devotion to the Light. The torch would remain, even if it meant fighting a hundred foes. In the end, the light remained, in the end, the enemy would fall. Harina watched as Toast ran, an unexperienced child, perhaps she had spent more time in prayer than in battle. Still, to flee from the light was foolish, and even if she refused, she would not let a Vestal, bearer of embers, to succumb to such the dark.

Her mace, pious, and shaped in the form of the sun, glinted in the torch light as she held it up high, swirling it around in the air as she marched with Sophia, and Volundyr, down the valley of damnation.

"On all corners, we will be surrounded by the perplextion of the dark! This is true. This is far too true. But in the end, the sun, our father and our mother, will rise to burn the heretics to ash! In the name of battle, to Mars, and to Roma, we march onward!"

Harina marched and stomped behind the light, her movements almost mechanical with each stomp in the mud. Ignorance, or courage, it was uncertain to say, but that mace of glorious incandescence was raised high above their heads, with words of scripture held to her heart.

These houses would once be refuge for the normal heirs of humankind, but now, they house damnation, foes of Apelion waiting about corners to strike them down. Soon, would the Barbarians close upon the gates of their hearts, but they must hold fast, else evil rape their souls.

"The enemy fears the light, sisters and brothers. The sooner we vanquish the foe, the better. Judge their cowardice not with contempt, but with suspicious, for they will swarm like rats to swarm out our beloved flame."

She spoke over her shoulder as they moved forward, unsure of where Sister Toast had gone. She needed to learn how to fear the dark, and how to kill it, in the most glorious way possible in order to fight back sin. Yet she would not learn this without assistance. Harinas face grimaced at the prospect of a sister lost in the shadows of evil, only steeling her face further in ignorance of the possibility that she might be lost already.

[Kidney]

As the small sister found herself plunged into the darkness of the torchless town, she first headed towards one of the final homes it seemed to be half-way consumed by the overgrowing foliage surrounding the replicate 'Hamlet'. As she neared it, and the warmth of the torch behind her graced her shoulders no more, the presence so violating in its scope and placement seemingly vanished from her body. The once omnipresent crushing sensation on her aura now lifted, and within the darkness, safety was found. 

The outline of the house grew closer, and as Toustain reached the home itself, the first thing that beheld itself to her was a broken window, and with the crunch of glass and dying leaves, the first observations yielded themselves to her. Within stood odd shapes as if frozen in time. Though, the motionless figure now staring at her scared her enough. This macabre statue carried a mask upon its face, of which resembled some cruel torture device. From the sides hung metal ribbons, of which metal orbs tugged town into hanging 'ears'. Seemingly trapped within the metal mask's mouth was what once was a tongue, crushed and sliced into place by a serrated mouth. the mask now seemed to be donkey-like, engraved comical facial expression standing for the general noise of the equine cousin. 

Behind this figure sat a table, halfway broken, but in the chairs around it sat a family waiting for supper. These immortalized silhouettes now revealed themselves to be statues of ash, of which even the children had been somehow malformed into. Two children sat across from a mountainous man, each carrying a stone-gray, elated expression on their ghastly frozen faces. The man seemed to be hunched, clutching silverware in his hands. 

-
As Sophia and the rest of the party marched forward into the dark, surrounded by a blanket of white, the violating presence grew stronger. Each member, starting with Sophia, felt as if hands clutched at their chests and their privates for microcosms of time, only to check to find nothing. The seeming pressing down upon them only grew worse as the light intensified. 

As they drew closer to where Toustain ran to, only slower, sounds emitted from the forest behind them.

As if conjured by woodland spirits, a ray of light darted from the forest, unhindered by foliage only long enough to dart across Volundr's chest for a moment. Then, as this moment passed, the sounds of many a creature sounded out, grand hollers and screeches from deep within the wood came muffled by branch and lumber. 

Muted by the thickets, though still visible, came the glow of eerie pale, yellow light. These of course, were accompanied by blood-curdling screams. 

[rosallora]

There's a prayer on her lips as she runs with the dark consuming her, a chant that she keeps, even as she stumbles up to the overgrown house, the plants' vines seeming to her like reaching fingertips, the air too thin and strange around her. "The flame is within me, the flame is within me, the flame is within..." The woman turns, and she can see, distantly, the glow of the torch, of the others, approaching. She only gives the light a passing glance as she turns, boot crunching on broken glass. The man. The man said to run. She had to run. She had to keep going. She follows the broken glass with her eyes to the half-shattered window.

Her gaze pierces through it and meets a stare that does not blink back. The faint light that radiates through the clouds is enough to identify it as a mask, a torture device, and her heart stills in her chest. She clutches her Solacia, bringing it to her chest and running a finger over the edges of the pages, trembling. The other figures. There's more. She looks - she stills. Statues. Statues of people, facsimiles of people. Not real. Not real, but too real. Children. Blessed... children, children, and why? Why? Her knuckles pale against the leather of her text, the whole of her shaking. She cannot afford this. She cannot afford to be still. She cannot. She keeps staring, though, motionless. Was she ash herself? Would she crumble?

Noise, bright and horrible, breaks through her mind. The screams of a thousand - the childrens' smiling mouths seem to make it to her, reverberate with it. She turns again, some light - some difference. The screams, the sound, she has to be somewhere safe, she has... she has to wait. It will pass. It must pass. She feels on the wall of the house, then looks at the broken window.


Beggars. Choosers. "Help," she whispers, almost to the masked woman, pleading with her. Her eyes dart to the husband, to the children."I mean you no harm, please. Grant me sanctuary." It's barely enough breath to stir the strands of hair in front of her face, and she's sure, shes mostly sure, that they're... dead. Deceased. They haven't moved. Dark magic. Dark places.

Toustain snaps her Solacia back into place, puts her hands upon the sill, and hefts herself inside. Her boots are soft on the dirt, and it's a relief altogether simply to be inside. The screaming does not stop, and she drowns it out in her head with verses fifty and twenty times memorized, over and over again. Her eyes look to the family now in full, a perfect tableaux of family, and then... the mother? It must be the mother. She steps closer, tentatively, into their home. They did not see the Flame... did they, as they died. There was no gentle ushering, there was no soft candlelight. These people... these people were taken. Children, taken. Terribly. Into this dark. Into this cold, unforgiving, ashen death.

"..I speak as a vessel of the Goddess," she says softly. Her voice is too loud in here, too intrusive. She softens it. She is like them, a whisper, an echo of something that once was.  "I see these faces, not laid to rest. May they find peace where their souls may be. I see the young, the experienced, and I wish that they may find peace where their souls may be. I see the loving.. I see the disgraced. May they find peace where their souls may be." Her footsteps graze the floor, her robes barely make a sound. "May the Goddess find you... may she gather you into her embrace. May you find the gentleness, of a mother... of a protector." She stands in front of the mask now, its unblinking eyes still boring into her, and she doesn't know what they say, but if it were her... she'd scream... she'd scream for someone to give her freedom... even in death. "May this be a mercy," she says softly. "In the name of the Goddess, Vesta, I see this home... I see this home, and I bless it, and all within it. May you find rest. May you find peace."

Her fingers alight upon the cruel thing.

[relentless]

|| Harina ||

She walked, and walked through the valley of damnation with warriors side by side, ready to purify this place in the name of Apelion. War laden boot trudged through the mud, and her mace was clenched tight as they pressed on. But then, there was a slight itch, nothing too odd, but... it grew, and it changed, it warped and it taunted her. Something was running about them, admiring them as vessels. Demons, the forces of evil were upon them, washing their evil all over here. She stopped in her tracks, beady eyes staring down below toward her chest, toward the places she vowed that would not be tainted by the allure of sin. She could feel it, prodding her, like a mutt asking for snacks.

A moment passed, her expression, entirely neutral. A few seconds later, her face tensed up, teeth bared, and her eyes widened.

"HERETIC!!"

Harina roared, her mace raised up high, the flanged aspect of her mace glinted bright in the torch light, a testament to her fury, and she brought her rage into the mud with a thunderous crack. Mud spat around, dirtying her battle skirt, and leaving a small, fist sized hole in the mud from where she struck. She rose, that look of bitterness pasted across her face.

"Purge them all! Leave no evil alive!"

She barked in a manner that defied the seemingly soft and angelic tone she once had, her face torn with unforgivable hatred, bitter and blossoming with hate. The woman stormed over to the nearest house on the right side, facing down the grain of the door she was about to break down.

"SINNER! YOUR END IS NIGH!"

Harina called forth, and with mighty swings, she began to pummel into the door with her mace, determined to break it down with sheer force and zealous might. None would stand before this priest of Mars, no demon, no cultist would dare invite evil to weep at her bootheel. They would die, no matter who they were, they would perish in the scorn of the sun! The wood would splinter, the flanges of her mace burrowing into the door, making it creak. Whether or not her display of hate would cause the door to shatter, would hopefully tie into her favor.

[EloHim]

"Ready yourself. They have their eyes on us."

Volundr felt weird. He tried to pay no mind to it. Why would he? He already was invested too much to give two shits about the whole howling thing. Ye, common scare tactic... when you attacking the scared unarmed villagers... It was working, a little bit, but Volundr found solace in the idea in the flames sending those gellir straight to Hel.
Harina on the other hand was not too happy, to put it mildly. Something got to her and put some fire in her underwear, as she started to beat on the random door of the sodden house. In Volundr's opinion - she acted a little bit too much like a whiny bitch rather than a shield maiden. Maybe that was a case with all those nuns, since they didn't get anyone to ríða them away from their troubles. He guessed it put more rage into them, but...if that is how it was shown - it certainly was not working right.

"Harina, calm yorself, gods dammit! If you think there are those...heretics in there, don't waste your time and strength kicking their door down. Just burn the whole thing. It’s sod, so will burn even better than wood. " - he looked to Sophia who still held the torch and didn't used it... Counterproductive? Very. Did they really needed a man to order them around? To command like in his good old days of raiding? He did not considered himself a leader, but Hel, he didn't thought they needed a man to boss them around... especially when their whole organisation made it clear to not include men in their ranks. Something sounded wrong about it...very.
Fucking Skool and Hati in the skies, he was overthinking it already. He needed to kill something to clear his brains.

"Sophia, common. If we really wanna burn the place we need less talking about it and a Lot. More. Fire. And unless you want me to get an extra torch and burn the whole thing myself, I suggest you put that light of yors to work." - he urged. He didnt mind wasting a couple of torches to get the job done but he didnt really wanted to do it alone. Burning villages with friends was always fun.

[Unter]

O Flame ! Judge me whole !

Find me well within your grace

Touch me with Fire that I be Cleansed

Tell me I have sung to your approval !

O Flame ! Hear my cry;

Wreathe me in Your warmth in death;

Make me one within Your Glory.

And let the world once more see your Favour.

For You are the Fire at the Heart of the World;

And comfort is only Yours to give.

These holy words, cherished and loved by Sophia, rang in her heads like a thousand bells. The whole prayer was beautiful, by she particularly liked these stanzas. Moreso now that she seemed to have walked through the Gates of Hell. Things weren't according to plan. She hated that. They were supposed to get in, slay the cult, and then get out. Blasted be the bonus of bringing them alive. But now, monsters were after them. She thought she was strong enough to confront them. But they were after the very thing that protected her.

And this unnerved her greatly. As they walked on the sodden ground, the very shadows seemed to be against them. She swore she could feel hands rustling on her steel plate, and even once she could feel an invisible hand pulling on an odd strand of hair that stuck out of her helmet. 

They arrived near a house, made of sod -which was odd considering the inhabitants could have just built their houses out of wood. Was the very material cursed too?- when Sophia understood that she wasn't imagining things. She looked at Vol on one side, his steel jaw put forward in grim determination. His will was fighting against something unseen. If Sophia could looked at herself, she was sure she looked the same. 

And then... She couldn't even look at Harina. The woman erupted in a righteous rage against the invisible assault, and stormed a nearby house. She shouted and struck a locked door with the full extent of her might. She didn't talk that much with the Sister, but she knew that nothing could quench this anger. And so, she let it cool away. At least it would open the house to them. Sophia stayed back with the torch, and looked at the house. It would burn quickly, but she needed to wait. She knew that Toustain ran in this direction. She must have hid in a place. 

This wasn't Toustain's time to become a martyr. And Sophia wouldn't be the one to bear the guilt of killing her. So when Volundr asked her to lit the house aflame, she snapped back quickly.

"Patience and virtue are two wheels of the same cart, Vol. Do you really want me to burn this house down, only to hear the anguished cry of Toustain rise from the hellish furnace ? We have no idea where she is. Let Harina vent her fury on the door. We are already spotted anyway. And if this is her way of bringing the Light to this place, let it be."

She squinted at Volundr. He wasn't a follower of the Light. What did he think of those creatures ? Did he relish in the anxiety it gave Sophia ? Was he happy to see all she believed being turned against her ? No, no. She shouldn't think what she was thinking. Doubt led to anger. Anger led to mistakes.

Mistakes led to failures. And so, she just said softly.

"When we are sure she isn't in there, I will be the first to torch this place to the ground. The Fire we start here will soar to the heavens, and shout to all the monsters who dare defy us that we are here to end their miserable little lives."

[Kidney]

The closer Toustain's hand drew towards the ashen statue, the eerier it became. Lifelike, as if stolen from a universe of which man was formed of ash, the statue stood still as she slowly drew her fingers to its skin. When her soft fingertips finally touched the woman, they glowed. Just slightly, and not very bright, but indeed they glowed. In this glow, the particulates in the air around Toustain seemed to fear light, rushing away from her hands and her form like gnats. 

As she pressed onto the skin, it did not break. Instead, her fingertips laid alit upon cold, gray skin. The woman did not move as Toustain dug her fingers behind the cold metal of the mask, and pulled open the mask's trapping serrated mouth. But, as she held it open, and meant to push down the tongue of the woman as to not immediately trap her tongue a second time. The woman's tongue shot into her mouth as if animated. Breathing from behind the mask took hold, and as Toustain removed the mask, she looked upon an animated woman. 

Her breathing was slow, and her mouth hung open daftly. Her gaze still remained deceased, and out to the window. Her facial expression though was not of pain, or of surprise, or acknowledgment of Toustain's presence, instead, she looked hollow. As dead as she was alive. And in a moment, she slowed and fell back to inactiveness. 

The thump from the far side of the home caught her attention, the slam of a disintegrating head against hard dirt floor, and further, the disintegration of the family within the sod house. Toustain would watch as the headless statue of the husband crumbled into itself, its stump falling into its chest cavity, and soon, its knees into its calves. This was followed by the mother and children, who, at the same time, crumbled into piles of ash and ashen...parts.

After this, silence filled the home. Until something cried from outside.
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Outside, as the group stood around this sod house, finally, the screams drew near enough for closer inspection. The first was a warbling cry, one like an exotic bird, followed by a human-like screech. The second, a hacking, coughing laughter. 

The sounds rushed past them as if the creators were moving at speeds unimaginable. The light that glowed amongst the trees rushed past them in a shockingly bright flash, and suddenly, besides the light of the torch, and the magic, no light embalmed them. Then, another sound encroached upon them.

Wings. 

A grand slam shook the ground before them, as, scrabbling towards Volundr first was a giant moth. Dusted with sparkling dark dust, the creature walked diagonally on six hooked and hairy legs, holding aloft a furred body, mangy and matted, connected to a ginormous head, of which bloody mouthparts darted out from underneath two ginormous, reflective, black eyes. Each hexagon that formed them caught to the light, and reflected it like a prism, but instead of visible light, burning, stinging, malformed light bit at the skin on Sophia and Volundr's bodies. 

The creature screeched, a harrowing banshee cry that rung the ears of all who had entered here through the wooden cave, and its body reared up as it neared Volundr, wings extending to reveal ornate designs formed from age-old scales, a tapestry of death and ornate lights, each one apart of a grand design upon the moth's very wings, one that depicted a town, ablaze. 

Another of these infernal beings rushed from the direct flank to attempt to rip the skin from Sophia's face, rearing its body up and scrabbling towards her soft faceflesh. 

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As Harina brought her mighty mace down upon the door of the home, the frail wood shattered under her might. With one smashing blow, the door flew from its hinges and the internals of a now revealed...empty home. Dusty furniture dotted the landscape, smashed through, and broken. The home looked gutted and filled with silence and despair until the angelic destroyer punished her way within the house. 

Though, even in this light, the house's internals were made of dry, flammable wood.

[relentless]

|| Harina ||

The warp of war was upon them. A glorious, bloody thing, one that showed no mercy, no honour. It was a battle of savagery from different perspectives, a savagery in the form of holy men, heretics and now, at this very moment.

The savagery of beasts. Abominations, casting themselves down upon her fellow warriors in her conquest to rid the land of evil, to restore the hold of Apelion, the iron grip of the sun onto the plane of humankind. Only one response remained, and it would be the only action that would be carried out against any and all who would defy the light, who would seek to quench the pyre from where humanities soul rested in the cradle of Apelion. Heretics.

Harina bashed the door down with one incredibly swing, the flanged part splintering a hole through the door before it was sent on its merry way, falling to the floor like a board, and sounding like one as well as it smashed into the decaying floorboards. She panted hard, as if the rage within her had already tired her out as it left. But then she heard the skitter and leap of the moths, from the tingle of her ear to the cast iron eye, she straightened up, and backstepped. She got a clear look at the beasts, though it was obscured, not by much however. Yet something was wrong, their tongues... it wasn't natural, they weren't natural. Had heresy became the source of life, sprouting forth such evils from its putrid belly? The vestal shuddered as she watched them charge forward in mindless torrents, watching as they flickered their tongues, and had all but unusual movements to them.

Now was not the time to panic, despite the graveness of the situation. In the heat of battle, one must only look forward, one must only watch his enemy, and one must never surrender.

Harina the High Priestess of the Apelion Order spared no time dawdling in pitiful, human weakness, for it was the time to give homage to the sun, and protect her allies from the evils that had came from this place. With deft fingers, the vestal flicked through the pages with naught but a thumb, eyes scanning through each individual page, looking for the appropriate scripture, one to call forth the light that would pierce through the shallow veil of shadow that surrounded them all. Slowly as she neared the passage, she raised her mace in the air, the glint of blessed metal shined out from the torchlight. The thumb would hold down a corner of the page, the parchment littered with ancient text written in the language of old Roma.

"Warriors of sunlight! GUARD ME! For I bring the sun to these HERETICS!"

Harina announced loudly to the other two, her eyes stern and stalwart, but eventually the Vestal seemed to relax herself. Slow breathing, as slow as one could be, with eyelids closing to hide the mortal plane. For now, she looked onto the clouds of light, searching for the light in the mist of her mind. Naught a sound could be heard, naught a scream, nor the cry of battle. A plea, a prayer was to be put forth, and to annihilate the enemy, one must seek divine assistance through the light.

"In lucem, in tenebris, per spodium a flammis, in tenebris, in ignem per pugnantes de aphelion planetae, da mihi lumen cordis tui, et da-"

("In the light, in the dark, through a cinder by the flames, in the dark, in the fire by the warring of the aphelion, give me the light of your heart, give me-")

Harinas voice grew to a pained, but determined whisper as matter around her began to change and react to her recitement of scripture. The mace and the parchment began to glow slow and steadily with an incandescent glow, one that would soon shine bright with glorious faith, one to shut out the dark, and bring the sun down crashing into the weak bodies of the heretics that had so foolishly dared to confront them. Sparks, or what seemed to be sparks, began to arc into the ground from Harinas body, her book and her mace, causing no discernible effect other than to hint at what was to come. But that was as obvious as one could be, the book would drape from her hand, the vestal seemingly entranced by the prayer, able to recite the prayer off by heart. A shaky hand followed as it was raising upward, apparently her body struggled to cope with the immense pressure, as magic similar to the stream of orange mist that attempted to heal the skinned man, began to flow from seemingly nothing, into the palm of her hand as she raised it upward, grasping out for something.

Slowly, the physical manifestation of light began to form in her hand, and as it grew longer, and longer into the spear of Apelion, the arcs of so called sparks would increase in aggression as the woman fueled her faith. By the gods, may will of Apelion allow his glow to manifest fully in her bosom, so that she may strike down her enemies with vicious contempt and pure hatred for Apelions enemies.

[EloHim]

Volundr was going to argue that if Toast was there, in the house, they would not need to bash the door, as it would've been opened or otherwise there would be a second entrance through which the girl could easily escape. He personally though that she left them for good. Cause in her place - he would've.
But there was no time. The danger on dusty wings approached. The screech was deafening...the ringing in his ears was...not...nice thing to experience, thats for godsdamn sure.
He pulled himself together, and saw… a giant...bug? A moth to be exact. He was...suprised and a tiny bit scared, mostly by the size of the thing. Yeah, those things were not normal. Beyond normal. Kinda beautiful in their own way…The wings especially. But the eyes, ohhh, the eyes were painful to look at. They were like those mirrors that mainland’s nobility oft boasted about. Reflecting the light...And even making it...stronger? Making it...hurt? How it was possible? To turn the light, not the heat or the flame itself but the Light into a weapon… That was interesting… Very interesting...

A match is struck, a blazing star is born...

He shrugged off the thoughts, leaving himself a note to ponder on it in other, calmer circumstances. He raised his shield, protecting the body, and tried to not look at those monstrous eyes directly.
“So that is what “eats the skin”, eh? A giant bug?! Pfeh..."
He looked at Harina...
"What the...”- and instantly regretted not following Toast into the darkness. Was that witch blind? Or so in love with her non-existent Appelion that she literally thought it would be a good idea to fight fire with more fire? In Volundr’s mind the opportunity of moth just burning to dust like his smaller kin usually does when flying into the flame was equal to the situation where they all burn to crisp and the bug feasts on their innards. And he was not willing to gamble.
Warriors of light. What kind of illusion was that? Did Harina really thought that if she new some magic - she will be instantly protected by her comrades? To be fair that is to be expected but in that particular case, Volundr was not compelled to do that. Maybe she thought that he, the heathen, the unbeliever, will instantly become part of her flock after seeing some flashy magic tricks? Loki was a god of many faces...
To Hel with protecting the witch, he will do the next best thing ever.
He rushed at the moth,his hammer raised above his head, ready to smash the head of the moth into many pieces with fury of the roaring bear.
“LETS SEE HOW CRUNCHY YOU ARE WHEN I BREAK YOU!!! VALHALLAAAA!!!”- he bellowed as he let his favorite weapon drop on the target.

[rosallora]

The movement stuns her into silence, the feeling of flesh on flesh something like sin as she draws back, quickly. Her breathing mimics the woman's, though hers is more inwardly panicked. The living mannequin, this mirroring of someone's humanity... it was gone in an instant. the dull eyes turned into sandy looking ash, clouds of it whisking into the air. The light that had brushed against her fingertips was gone in a blink, dubiously ever there at all, and she's left in a house of nothing, with a mask of iron in her hand.

"Amen," she breathes. She looks at the cruel mask - she can't just leave it behind. There must be something evil about it, something that needed to be purified. Either melted down, or exorcised, or baptized liberally in holy water. Any method would do, as long as something was done about it. Leaving it here felt wrong. As if it would cause some great catastrophe if left unsupervised, Toustain felt a weight of responsibility come over her. She straps the thing to her armour, pulling the knots tight, and looks back out the window at the strange, crying noise.

Her eyes focus through the dim-dark of the air and towards the point of light, closer than she thought it would be. And she's gripped, suddenly, by an anger. A pushing, throbbing thing, something that draws her hand through the air and instinctively towards a doorknob that she didn't know she'd stepped towards. But now, here she is. She throws the door open. She could find those things twenty leagues away, she feels, she wants them gone. One hand goes to the mask, pressing on the metal, feeling it. Vengeance, isn't it? Is that what this desire is? Vengeance for this family, for whatever horrendous fates befell the people of this town? It feels more than just a mission. She had cleansed one house of the horrible curse that had been on it, they had found their rest.

She couldn't hide. Being away from the Light was not hiding - the torch was within. But fleeing from her companions had been cowardly, and wrong. Even now, they were bright against the darkness (she argues, still, that it was unwise), valiant. They needed her. Or rather, they needed all the help they could get.

Toustain breaks into a sprint, aiming for the moth closest and facing away from her, mace at the ready. Her feet pound against the ground, mud and dirt trod stiff after years of use, and she jumps, putting every bit of violence she had into a strike against its black-dusted wing, mace iron looking as dark as the beast itself.