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[Canalan]

As soon as the beings had spoken, the squad leader had seemingly been struck speechless.  Dishmab stepped forward once it was clear the others wouldn't.

Greetings from the surface! We bring the might of the fortress of Canyonoar! Ye say ye serve some sort of "elder god?" Is that another name for the lord Palad'in?
And do ye have any precious minerals, like gold?

[forsaken1111]

The starspawn look amused, as an adult taking pleasure in the innocence of a child. A different being speaks now, its voice slightly lower but still melodious.

We speak of the glory that is Astra'ath, the Elder god.

It is our creator. It is our protector.

Another steps forward and speaks as the first steps back, wings folding behind.

You speak of metals? I am an alchemist.

Though we are all The Chosen, we each have our own areas of study.

I sense potential in you, for forge work and metal craft.

Return to the surface, establish a settlement at the borehole's edge.

We give you a gift of metals to take with you, but leave half your number here.

They will be trained, their potential unlocked.

Five starspawn turn and look at the rock face as one, focused on their work. Ethereal constructs form around them, fields shaping into a large drilling rig. Drill bites rock with a high pitched whine even as the rest is still forming, firming, becoming solid. Mirror-bright fields shine in the depths as the drill bit gnaws its way through stone. Mechanisms within heat and steam, vaporizing rock as it passes through the drilling shaft and leaving only metal behind... and not just any metal.

Five bars of precious adamantine are the prize for several hours of labor by the Five. The drilling rig begins to fade, no longer needed, and the Five retire to the caves exhausted. The remaining starspawn presents the adamantine to the dwarves on a wheeled stone slab for hauling back up the borehole.

[Acanthus117]

Through the eternal twilit glens of Aether, a hunter stalked its prey. Silent as death, the Reaver skittered under the shade of the wild forests that held no name. It had been commanded to slaughter, to feast upon the fears of mortals and to inspire legends of unspoken horrors that live in the night. Its master had chosen well. A farmer and his family had been first, and their fear had tasted sweeter than the finest wine. The had screamed for hours before they had finally died, and their corpses decorated a wizened old tree like some obscene ornaments.

Soon, the Reaver had found its next prey. A lone Aether elf, her fingers tracing the cool surface of a brook, stood facing away from the thing not five meters from where it lay. The Reaver's mouth opened widely, revealing a maw of needle-sharp teeth. It would feast well.

Eliria had taken some time off, from teaching her fellow villagers of the written word and the shaping of the crystal that formed their word. She hoped Curio could handle their eager minds long enough for her to regain her composure. She sighed, and bent over, sipping the clear water of the stream.

A sharp crack sounded behind her, and she whipped around, a blue aura of energy crackling around her hands. She had been selected by the Scholars to learn secrets that let her twist the field of power that imbued the world, and had been quite skilled.

Out of the dark, a spindly figure leaped at the mage, but was held back by the wall of shining blue force that Eliria had thrown up. It tried to beat it down, slashing and cutting with deadly-looking spear-like legs, but was denied by Eliria's magic. It roared in anger, at the denial of another meal. It sprung at the barrier again and again. Soon, as if the beast understands the mage's power, it withdraws back into the shadows from whence it came.

Eliria ended the spell. She turned, and ran from that spot. Fear pounded in her heart like a drum beat of some eldritch ritual under a gibbous moon... Thump thump. Thump thump. Thump thump.

She needed to warn her kin, to protect them. Magic seemed to... block it, but she didn't think for a second that they could fight it with their farming tools.

That night, she prayed in desperation, seeking guidance from her deity.

<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>

Corporal Edward Rourke's head pounded like someone had taken a hammer to his temples. He opened his eyes, and saw that he was in some metal room. The surfaces were all smooth, and there was not a sign of any marks, of any signs that hands had worked the shiny surfaces.

He tried to remember what had happened... Something about BLACKLIGHT, whatever that was. He remembered... pain, fear, and then he was here. He'd need some answers... but from who? All the Corporal could see was a single path; forwards.

Rourke realized that his M4 was gone, as well as his grenades. He was only armed with his .45 USP, as well as his combat knife. Suddenly, the Marine felt quite... scared. It was as if he was a small child again, a small child listening in on things he shouldn't. He drew the pistol, regaining some comfort from the familiar pistol's worn handle. His combat knife in his other hand, the Marine set out to explore this strange place.

<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>

Phaedron saw its mistress in distress, and strode towards her. her brother lay in its arms, the strange babe snuggling against the shadowy form of the former soldier.

"Are you alright, my mistress?" Its voice was tinged with panic, and more than a little hesitation. 

The Reaver has slaughtered a family of farmers in a remote village. It has tried to kill one of the Scholar's students, but failed. Eliria warns her village of the thing, and sets up some wards, hopefully enough to protect the elves from further attack. Their paranoia and fear feeds the Reaver.

Rourke has woken up, and wanders through the Refuge. His memories on his part in fighting BLACKWATCH are lost, either to direct tampering or a necessary side effect of his rebirth.

[Digital Hellhound]

Before the trapped god acts, Coradin lands on the bridge behind the Fifth and snatches the Stone from her hands. The Fifth backs away in surprise, but Coradin ignores her, instead focusing to the Stone.

It was not time to yet use the Stone, and he did not look forward to that with one of his siblings inhabiting it.
He feared that prolonged exposure to the Stone's influence could have devastating effects on the trapped god's mind, if something had not already happened.
Anyone could stumble upon it in the Palace. He needed a safer holding place for it.
However, this was far from his only problem. Aside from the Stone's vulnerability, the Palace was overcrowded with the Valkyries he had created. They needed more training and living space. And then there was Astra'ath, and the strike against him.

He needed something to fix all three problems.
Coradin got to work, several ideas bouncing around in his head.

Drawing from the knowledge of the Armada gathered by the Morai, Coradin took starship designs and information. They were all wrecks, all too broken and ugly.
And yet, he knew what they were supposed to look like. Something began to form in his hands.
Perfect, white covering, slightly curved surfaces, transparent observatories hanging from the sides and dozens of tiny, incredibly sharp wings.
A single golden blade-like symbol covering the bottom, guarded by armour plating painted in a deep red. Deadly weapon systems hidden inside the hull, surrounding a wall of boarding shuttles.
What would have been thousands of little weakpoints in mortal hands were nothing to Coradin. Divine energies fell into place where the armour was the weakest.
In the center of it all was the Stone, acting as an emergency power supply if the ship core itself somehow failed. An useful place, but not actively in use to avoid conflict with the trapped god. He had to deal with that, after this... situation.
Most of the Valkyries had already found themselves inside and been given new orders and knowledge. They were moving into their positions and training themselves for the trials ahead.
He pondered his next move. He did not know much about Astra'ath's defenses, or if the fool Pala'din had acted against them. Best just to return to the others and continue their discussion...
 
Coradin creates the Instrument of War, a powerful warship, and locks the Stone inside.

[ragnarok97071]

Tarn has an idea. stretching his consiousness in all directions, he seeks the Chained One. should he find him, he would translocate before him, and speak.
"We would like to study something of yours."
"We believe that we can use it for the creation of an... interesting species."
"If you allow us a sample, we will be willing to make some sort of... deal for it."
"We are speaking of this creature"
With a wave of his hand, an image of BLACKLIGHT appears.
"We are interested in modifying it's ability to absorb and utilize the genetic structure of other beings."
"specifically, we wish to apply it to a plan of Ours."
"Do you agree?"

[Fortis]

The moment Luna set foot on Aether with Poena, she knew something was wrong. She heard the sounds of combat, the mighty guardians, the Aether dragons were fighting something. “Poena, I must go, another threat has come.” Luna said, leaving Poena, her brother, and the caretaker Phaedron with one of the villages of elves. Drawing her divine sword, she swiftly flew towards the sounds of the struggle.

Cresting one ridge, she saw the dragons fighting… but she could not see what they were fighting. They clawed at the air, and unleashed blasts of their freezing breath upon the bare crystal. Luna watched in confusion, but was jolted out of it when one of the dragons called to her.

“Luna! Creator! Help us vanquish this thing of shadow!” One shouted.

“I cannot see what you are fighting,” Luna replied.

“It is there! If you cannot see it, then use our sight!” The dragon responded. Luna closed her eyes, and saw with the eyes of the dragons. She saw the beast of shadow then, and saw the claws of the dragons passing through it, and their frigid breath freezing the air around it but not it’s ethereal flesh.

“Fall back, but keep it in sight. Let me deal with this fiend.” Luna said, readying her blade. Using the sight of the dragons, she lashed out with the divine rapier at Reaver.

[Acanthus117]

Seeing the immense wave of divine power enter its vicinity, the Reaver surged forwards, tearing out the throat of an unlucky Dragon, and spearing a right foreleg of another with one of its wicked spear-like appendages. It yowled like a demon from the pits of hell and retreated into the shadow, ichor dripping from its maw of teeth. It promptly opened a portal to the strange world consumed by constant warfare, seeking to hide in the entropic masses of death and fear. It drooled, seeing the flood of pain and fear. It would go fat from all this death!


Meanwhile, in Ss'vadgrin, The Chained God stood before the strange two-minded deity before it.

What do you offer in exchange for what which is mine?
The Reaver flees Aether, but not before it kills one dragon, and wounds another. Meanwhile, Rourke finds the main chamber of the Refuge, and sits there... doing nothing.

[Digital Hellhound]

The Protector landed neatly on the silver floor of the main chamber and looked around. There were no gods there right now, and the girl and her entourage had left at some point. The only thing that caught his attention was a human sitting next to one of the thrones, staring at everything eyes wide. Had he been left here on accident?
The Protector reached out, and cut open a channel between their minds. This kind of speech could be difficult for ones not used to it, but it was the only way he could talk to mortals.

'What are you doing here, human? Who is your master?'

[Acanthus117]

Rourke had made his way through the strange metal halls to find a large metal room, with an array of pillar- no, they were more like... thrones. He had holstered his pistol and his combat knife, and sat down on the floor.

What was he going to do now?

For hours, the man had sat there, waiting for something, anything, to happen. He had begun to wonder if he should try shooting the wall when a huge... thing appeared. It appeared to be a... dragon?! Without hesitation, the man unholstered his pistol, and spoke.

"Wuh-What the fuh-fu-fuck are you?"

[Digital Hellhound]

The Protector eyed the weapon in the human's hands with amusement. The being was foolish to even think he had a chance against him. Foolish, and seemingly ignorant of the world. Interesting.

'This is the Refuge of the Gods, and I am it's Protector, the right hand of my master, Coradin. I am curious, what do you know of this world and your task in it?'

[Acanthus117]

"The fuck? What do you mean? I just woke up here. What do you mean by task?" The man's voice had regained some of his composure, but he was still quite afraid of the... thing, whatever it was.

[Digital Hellhound]

The Protector stared at the man in disbelief. Who had created so carelessly, left the poor creature here without knowledge or a purpose?

'Do you know why you were brought here, human? What is the last thing you remember?'

[Acanthus117]

"I remember something about me and my buddies being dropped in a quarantine zone, being ordered to follow some guys... Blackwatch, if I recall correctly. Middle of New York, if you'd believe it. Something about... an infection." The man's brow furrowed. "Seems like it all goes fuzzy after that."

[Digital Hellhound]

The man's words made little sense, but the Protector had already determined he was from another world. One of the Voidwalker's toys, then?
The alien god would come back for him sooner or later, unless he was a spy of somekind. Why the Chained God saw it fit to spy on it's allies, he did not understand, or why he had chosen such a being for the task.
Still, his master would not allow violence in the Refuge, and banishing him outside would just mean death in the void. He could not do anything about it.

'I... see. I am sure your master will return and take you with him sooner or later. For now, do you require food or something to drink? I am sure I can provide whatever you need.'

[Acanthus117]

As the strange rock dragon thing asked him if he was hungry, Rourke's stomach growled.

"Well, if it wouldn't be too much trouble, I'd like something... Some beer'd be nice too."