February 8th, OE 102
1:13 PM DST
Crescentia, Forgotten Reliquary
Silently, caressed by moss and growth stood a prison. Forgotten to time and known to but a select few it bore the memory of it within their minds a memorial without memory. To those that knew what stood here at the foot of the massive pillar of what seemed to be marble it was a grim reminder to all others it looked like a mere commemoration to the giant war. The prison itself finely crafted out of the same material as the monolith that loomed over and bore similarities to it in nature as both held above them a halo of floating rocks though the monolith's was much more massive.
To the initiated these stones that hovered by magical means around both structure and surrounding were identifiers, inscribed with arcane methods as well as a pattern only known to those taught their meaning. Letters, numbers, warnings and dangers all inscribed upon mere floating rocks without requiring any writing. A fantastic way to create an impossible way to deduce which dangerous artifact or monstrous fiend lay sealed where. All done with mere rocks.
But beneath the smaller set of stones, the prison itself stood. Though one would be forgiven for mistaking it as anything but a method to seal the most dangerous of items and persons, for it looked like a statue. Massive in stature but yet dwarfed by the surrounding geography looking down upon the environment with serene grace was an angelic being gaze solemnly aimed down as if crying in shame but resolute in features. To either side of the structure waterfalls crashed down, rainbows coming off of the light seeming like rainbows connecting as if they were wings, two wings of the same marble like substance spreading wide.
A monument to make modern sculptors weep. But for all the beauty on the outside the inside was grim, while the outside got to bask in the light, the inside... Was another tale.
Darkness, silence, nothing came in, nothing goes out. The only light within the complete darkness was that of his own body as a dim red glow protruded from the man's left arm, like embers of a flame which was also as much light as they provided. Granted, the past two thousand years had offered his eyes ample time to adjust to the sheer darkness. Even then the surroundings were those which he could have navigated blind prior to his imprisonment, he had spent many days and hours within its confines as its pilot after all.
The Shicksalias, no.. Shicksal now. It was robbed of its name when it was robbed of the artifacts that powered it. It had been his personal unit during and after the giant war, and now it was his tomb. Within one of the many Reliquaries that littered the space between space. It was like sweeping dust under a rug, it didn't go away. No no far from, it was kept out of sight and thus out of mind. But it was still there, hidden perhaps but always but one moving of the rug away. And how he had tried to move that dimensional rug, oh during his first days... years? here it was all he did, trying to force his being and prison back into the material realm.
Had he succeeded in that? Well, yes. Eventually but not during his initial rage. No, the angelic statue outside was not even supposed to exist in this plane its beauty not supposed to be seen but now, now it stood among the landscape as any other feature would. Alberich could not exactly remember when the construct had returned to the plane from which he came or well, technically he could but pinpointing when it had happened was quite troublesome. By his estimate two thousand years had passed, which was accurate but not something he could be sure about. It was not as if he had been provided a calendar to keep track by his jailors.
After all when you're supposed to be held here until the end of time who cares what day it is.
He rotated his arm slightly, the clanking of chains replying as they remained firmly stuck. Limiting this attempt at exercise to even less movement then the already minimal attempt. What he did get in return was the momentary flare of a dull red magic circle. He knew the magic well, not just from being under it for so long but also for having inflicted it upon others, there was no way out of it bar the enchanter liberating their prisoner, or the enchanter perishing and unlike a few of those he had caught the third method of vastly surpassing the spellcaster with one's own magicks was not available to him, such was the trouble by making an enemy out of the best sorcerer in all the realms.
Even crueler, this state of stasis was afflicted upon his entire person. He could not starve but hunger persisted, he could not dehydrate but the feeling of thirst always loomed. There was no out, not by escape and not by death. To those who received the privilege of such a prison there was no execution, for it was designed to break them until they cried out for liberation to their jailor. A cruel joke for the 'greater good'. Truly cruel and truly a joke.
Even worse so, the machine he had piloted was instrumental to this spell. Buried under his own weight was an apt way to describe it, without the Schicksal here there was a hope that the spell would eventually deteriorate but with it surrounding him, his own power was being brought against him. It infuriated him, and though it was to no use in this fury he pulled with his left arm trying to wrest the chain from its place.
Pain, the magicks fighting back the chains searing him. But he pulled in defiance to none but fate itself, as well as her. Remembering her, what she'd done to him to all of them it empowered him made him capable of chewing through the pain and then- it happened. Magic faded, and with a nasty snap the chain broke loose. Magic circles surrounding the binding flickering and fading. Alberich's arm immediately fell down the disuse had rendered it weak and now it hung limply by his side as the other still was held aloft and aimed at the prison.
Shock overtook him, impossible. There was no way he was being liberated now, he would have felt his presence here. His friend, his enemy, his peer and none could liberate him bar the man himself. Even in all her power the false god of the moon could not undo these bindings such was her own design.
Which meant.... No... Tears began to stream down his face. It was the first time in at least a hundred years that sadness overtook him so the torturous existence here was nothing compared to this realization. Lao, was dead.
His mind moved back to that day, that fateful day. The last time they had ever seen one another, would ever see one another. He had been... such a child back then. Immature, rash, enraged. A poor combination. As his second arm pulled at the chains with their fading magicks, his mind moved to that time, to every move he had done and to that fateful confrontation between him and the two last friends that remained.
Silence was long interrupted in the halls, the alarm had long since cried out 'enemy in the sanctum' and now began to cry 'inner sanctum breached'. Scraping its blade across the floor the Schicksalias pressed the upper torso of the last remaining Welspiner against the walls, pulling the machine's weapon out of its own gut and piercing the head of the knightly mech with it pinning it against the walls. Inside the man wiped away another set of tears, he didn't want to fight them, he had begged for them to stand down. But they wouldn't he had been decreed an enemy of Crescentia by none other then Gan Eden herself and she... she had long since warned the guard he was coming.
Hopefully it had only been the guard, the machine lumbered forward its goal almost in sight.
"Kusanagi...." He whimpered to himself, water in his eyes. "I'm coming...."
The red head bashed his head forward, calling out to none but himself.
"I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME, THAT YOU'RE SEEING MY EVERY STEP. YOUR DECEIT ENDS HERE!" It was a pained yell, anguish she wouldn't get away with this. With what she'd done to him, to them. With the lies and the schemes. They ended today.
They'd listen to him, he was sure of it. An extreme option perhaps, but he said it was the only way.
1:13 PM DST
Crescentia, Forgotten Reliquary

Silently, caressed by moss and growth stood a prison. Forgotten to time and known to but a select few it bore the memory of it within their minds a memorial without memory. To those that knew what stood here at the foot of the massive pillar of what seemed to be marble it was a grim reminder to all others it looked like a mere commemoration to the giant war. The prison itself finely crafted out of the same material as the monolith that loomed over and bore similarities to it in nature as both held above them a halo of floating rocks though the monolith's was much more massive.
To the initiated these stones that hovered by magical means around both structure and surrounding were identifiers, inscribed with arcane methods as well as a pattern only known to those taught their meaning. Letters, numbers, warnings and dangers all inscribed upon mere floating rocks without requiring any writing. A fantastic way to create an impossible way to deduce which dangerous artifact or monstrous fiend lay sealed where. All done with mere rocks.
But beneath the smaller set of stones, the prison itself stood. Though one would be forgiven for mistaking it as anything but a method to seal the most dangerous of items and persons, for it looked like a statue. Massive in stature but yet dwarfed by the surrounding geography looking down upon the environment with serene grace was an angelic being gaze solemnly aimed down as if crying in shame but resolute in features. To either side of the structure waterfalls crashed down, rainbows coming off of the light seeming like rainbows connecting as if they were wings, two wings of the same marble like substance spreading wide.
A monument to make modern sculptors weep. But for all the beauty on the outside the inside was grim, while the outside got to bask in the light, the inside... Was another tale.
Darkness, silence, nothing came in, nothing goes out. The only light within the complete darkness was that of his own body as a dim red glow protruded from the man's left arm, like embers of a flame which was also as much light as they provided. Granted, the past two thousand years had offered his eyes ample time to adjust to the sheer darkness. Even then the surroundings were those which he could have navigated blind prior to his imprisonment, he had spent many days and hours within its confines as its pilot after all.
The Shicksalias, no.. Shicksal now. It was robbed of its name when it was robbed of the artifacts that powered it. It had been his personal unit during and after the giant war, and now it was his tomb. Within one of the many Reliquaries that littered the space between space. It was like sweeping dust under a rug, it didn't go away. No no far from, it was kept out of sight and thus out of mind. But it was still there, hidden perhaps but always but one moving of the rug away. And how he had tried to move that dimensional rug, oh during his first days... years? here it was all he did, trying to force his being and prison back into the material realm.
Had he succeeded in that? Well, yes. Eventually but not during his initial rage. No, the angelic statue outside was not even supposed to exist in this plane its beauty not supposed to be seen but now, now it stood among the landscape as any other feature would. Alberich could not exactly remember when the construct had returned to the plane from which he came or well, technically he could but pinpointing when it had happened was quite troublesome. By his estimate two thousand years had passed, which was accurate but not something he could be sure about. It was not as if he had been provided a calendar to keep track by his jailors.
After all when you're supposed to be held here until the end of time who cares what day it is.
He rotated his arm slightly, the clanking of chains replying as they remained firmly stuck. Limiting this attempt at exercise to even less movement then the already minimal attempt. What he did get in return was the momentary flare of a dull red magic circle. He knew the magic well, not just from being under it for so long but also for having inflicted it upon others, there was no way out of it bar the enchanter liberating their prisoner, or the enchanter perishing and unlike a few of those he had caught the third method of vastly surpassing the spellcaster with one's own magicks was not available to him, such was the trouble by making an enemy out of the best sorcerer in all the realms.
Even crueler, this state of stasis was afflicted upon his entire person. He could not starve but hunger persisted, he could not dehydrate but the feeling of thirst always loomed. There was no out, not by escape and not by death. To those who received the privilege of such a prison there was no execution, for it was designed to break them until they cried out for liberation to their jailor. A cruel joke for the 'greater good'. Truly cruel and truly a joke.
Even worse so, the machine he had piloted was instrumental to this spell. Buried under his own weight was an apt way to describe it, without the Schicksal here there was a hope that the spell would eventually deteriorate but with it surrounding him, his own power was being brought against him. It infuriated him, and though it was to no use in this fury he pulled with his left arm trying to wrest the chain from its place.
Pain, the magicks fighting back the chains searing him. But he pulled in defiance to none but fate itself, as well as her. Remembering her, what she'd done to him to all of them it empowered him made him capable of chewing through the pain and then- it happened. Magic faded, and with a nasty snap the chain broke loose. Magic circles surrounding the binding flickering and fading. Alberich's arm immediately fell down the disuse had rendered it weak and now it hung limply by his side as the other still was held aloft and aimed at the prison.
Shock overtook him, impossible. There was no way he was being liberated now, he would have felt his presence here. His friend, his enemy, his peer and none could liberate him bar the man himself. Even in all her power the false god of the moon could not undo these bindings such was her own design.
Which meant.... No... Tears began to stream down his face. It was the first time in at least a hundred years that sadness overtook him so the torturous existence here was nothing compared to this realization. Lao, was dead.
His mind moved back to that day, that fateful day. The last time they had ever seen one another, would ever see one another. He had been... such a child back then. Immature, rash, enraged. A poor combination. As his second arm pulled at the chains with their fading magicks, his mind moved to that time, to every move he had done and to that fateful confrontation between him and the two last friends that remained.
Silence was long interrupted in the halls, the alarm had long since cried out 'enemy in the sanctum' and now began to cry 'inner sanctum breached'. Scraping its blade across the floor the Schicksalias pressed the upper torso of the last remaining Welspiner against the walls, pulling the machine's weapon out of its own gut and piercing the head of the knightly mech with it pinning it against the walls. Inside the man wiped away another set of tears, he didn't want to fight them, he had begged for them to stand down. But they wouldn't he had been decreed an enemy of Crescentia by none other then Gan Eden herself and she... she had long since warned the guard he was coming.
Hopefully it had only been the guard, the machine lumbered forward its goal almost in sight.
"Kusanagi...." He whimpered to himself, water in his eyes. "I'm coming...."
The red head bashed his head forward, calling out to none but himself.
"I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME, THAT YOU'RE SEEING MY EVERY STEP. YOUR DECEIT ENDS HERE!" It was a pained yell, anguish she wouldn't get away with this. With what she'd done to him, to them. With the lies and the schemes. They ended today.
They'd listen to him, he was sure of it. An extreme option perhaps, but he said it was the only way.