A Great Resurgence

[Schneebo 1593]

The sound was without limit, it reached across the mortal realm. The sound didn’t come from the surroundings, however, but it certainly didn’t originate from those that heard it’s minds.

 

Across Athera, Druids, Clerics, Shamans, Moongazers, Monks, Ascended, and even the few remaining Undead; anyone who’s mind had ventured beyond the mortal realm and into those of deities; heard the thunderous noise, like a great captured beast slamming against the walls of it’s cell. It grew louder, stronger, and more prominent in the listeners’ minds.

 

It paused for a moment, and then a final beat was heard. However, silence did not follow. A feeling of near-infinite power pressing against their minds, focused at a near-infinitesimally small point, though it had travelled across a near-infinite distance to reach them was what replaced the banging, like the brightest light in the universe pushed through a pinhole. It was utterly wrong and completely disorientating. 

 

 

The less mentally resolute might feel their minds shattered temporarily after a short while, and even the strongest of souls would find it hard to stand.

After almost 5 minutes of the ethereal pressure, it subsides, and those that fell into oblivion would recover their wits. 

 

The most learned and experienced of the Shamans might be able to discern that the feeling had originated in the Realm of the Spirits, though the precise location within it would be unclear to all.

 

((credits to hellfiazz for the post))

[hellfiazz 879]

Buubztik's leg fall out beneath him as his mind is battered by sheer, otherworldly power. As he regains his posture, his thoughts are left swimming. He would convene with the other shamans about the occurrence. 

 

((In case I didn't clarify enough, this post applies to any users of any deity magic))

[ski_king3 0]

Finally the indescribable sensation would cease, allowing Garion to rise from his knees once more. After a few moments of struggle, he managed to form an orb of light in his palms from what little holy mist he could conjure. He used the light to help look around the shadowy wood he found himself in, searching for the source of such an attack.

 

Finding nothing, he returned from the ground, reaching out to his patron for guidance.

 

 

 

((Also, everyone +1 hellfiazz's post so he can get some rep from this dopeass piece of writing. He certainly earned it!))

[Wretched 2075]

The wizened Kharajyr sage tugs at her ears, grimacing in a kneeling position on the forest floor of Fiandria as a thin trail of blood drips from her nostril. With a shaky finger she dabs her paw into the blood, carefully spelling out 'Lonely Soul' into the bark of a nearby birch tree, lips quivering as mumbled prayers escape them.

[Praetor 1550]

Razani dodges.

[Man of Respect 5471]

Buubztik's leg fall out beneath him as his mind is battered by sheer, otherworldly power. As he regains his posture, his thoughts are left swimming. He would convene with the other shamans about the occurrence. 

 

((In case I didn't clarify enough, this post applies to any users of any deity magic))

As Buubztik would approach Eath, he'd nod "Yub, mi alzu feut zumfyn. Nub zure ob wer iz frum. Ez bub'hozh...? Oh nub'hozh?" He'd philosophically share his toughts with Buubztik.

[Drak3 442]

After taking the mental bombardment from the unknown source. Stella finally raises her head to look around the dimly-lit cave. Senses now flowing back to her as she tries to understand what just took place. After several more minutes, The undisguised Frost Witch stood to make her way farther into the frozen depths of the earth.

[Birdwhisperer 1174]

The Dove Druid kneels on the ground with her arms covering her head protectively for the duration of the overwhelming experience. After it passes, she waits a moment and shakily rises to her feet, slowly making her way to the grove to meditate.

[Arkelos 1027]

The Dragonfly Druid curls into a ball as she hisses out "The mages, they're doing this! Or the Thingummywots! JUST SOMEONE MAKE IT STOP!" she would say as it lifts up, her eyes narrowing as she scans the area for any mages, "Thingummywots, you will have your day.. I will catch you again." she mumbles, going back to her home to meditate.

[NomadGaia 930]

The Druid of Death falls to the forest floor, writhing in pain. Her screams fill the forest, adding another noise to the forest air. Her cane falls to her side, and lies useless, as the deafening noise pierces her fragile ears. As the noise stops, she shudders, and rises, limping to her cane. She stands to a full height, brushing her silver hair from her eyes. Hazel eyes scanned the forest around her. The cane she held in her hand shot forth, and she begins to walk back to her tent. 

[Dromui 755]

Skale wanders alone through the streets of Leyulin, sweat shining upon his forehead, his breathing heavy. The life of a cleric is hard, healing members of the town guard left and right. He sighs and wipes the sweat away, his breathing eventually slowing back to a normal pace. Without warning, the cleric's mind is slammed by the otherworldly force, sending him crashing down onto  a nearby root with a heavy thud. He curls up into a ball, holding his now cut forehead and bruised face, knees tucked firmly against his chest. Eventually, when the sudden barrage disperses from his mind, he slowly sits up. Healing the minor wounds, he simply sits, meditating on the sudden occurrence with trepidation and fear.

 

Errant lays comfortably upon the branch of one of the many trees littering the town that is Leyulin. One leg hangs off, the other tucked under a secondary root, keeping his lithe form balanced upon the birch tree. With hands tucked firmly beneath his head, he cannot help but doze off to sleep in such a comfortable pose. But without further ado, his mind is bombarded by the unknown force, sending him sitting up in agony, hangs gripping at his hair tightly. He trembles greatly but manages to hold himself up on the branch. When it subsides, he lays back down slowly but stares up at the sky in confusion.

[Netphreak 510]

       As the cease of the overwhelming presence of power occured, the lone Wight surrounded by spectral flames and the echoes of his horried shriek subside back into peace.. The Wight collects his sentience and recollection of his surroundings; he gets off of the ground, back onto the chair he fell off of.

 

       The lone Wight ponders heavily at the event that had just occured, bringing his gloved fingers up to his chin, completely with a lack of words or knowledge to explain this...

 

       He speaks, "For a being created of the most Dark of magics... This shouldn't have ever happened... Something... Something is out there and I don't wish to find out what it is soon...." He would grab at his writing utensil before bringing his now shaking hand toward a parchment, writing down in a language most unknown to the mortal realm however common to those of the Dark.

 

       The Wight would remain in his seat for many days, in constant ponderance....

[marimbamonk 1501]

Brunhyldir, meditating quietly on a windy hilltop, narrows his closed eyes. His eyes flicker rapidly underneath his eyelids, resisting an immeasurable pain from within.

The flickering stops, and instantly, the Shaman's eyes open. The most grave and unsure face grips the Orc as he stares off into space.

Taking a deep breath, he rises from his perch, using his staff as support.

"Naht naow... Buht we zhall preepayur."

Brunhyldir makes his way down the hill as the wind touches his garb with a cold premonition.

[susitsu 871]

At first, iit would be but a pause in his stride as he felt something odd. His eyes narrowing, the white-haired Half-Elf's eyes would quickly survey the area when the true event occured. Feeling the massive pressure, his eyes widened, both of his hands going up to his head. Letting out a deep groan, he would move to one knee, muttering "What...is this?" Once it ended, he would take in a deep breath and glance around in confusion.

[ThumperJack 927]

Mountain Druid Norik grips his head as the voice rockets through his mind, he draws his waraxe and begins hacking at the air around him, then as it ends, he drops to the ground, his axe clattering against the floor beside himself

 

"Wot darkness breaches moi mind.."

 

He remains lying there for several hours later, before standing, sliding his axe back into his belt loop, grapping his staff, and walking off, whispering theories to himself.