[Event Aftermath] Final Guidance | Fall of Lumbridge

[HurferDurfer1 2978]

Tulip gradually reconstitutes within the chamber where his phylactery lay, bemoaning the fact he would have to go and collect more flowers for his eccentric garb, after having been felled by The Oyashi Sniper Kato Ena.

[molly molly molly 1329]

A former Xionist, mustering a climb on the endless mountain that was 'redemption,' fled from the grand explosion-to-be. The Elverhilin Wizard petered to a stop on the frozen road far below the behemoth of Lumbridge, turning a centuries' weary gaze unto it. 

He felt like collapsing. So he did.

 

 

In Lumbridge's final moments, he reflected. He reflected on the past that kept him up every night. 

 

How many had he hurt, lied to, stolen from, killed?

Betrayed, in the name of Xion?

 

How many had it been, Greiret Elverhilin? Hundreds? Thousands?

 

He could not even remember anymore.

He could not remember. . . 

What is was all for.  

 

 

As Lumbridge exploded, these thoughts were quelled in an instant.

One glorious instant.

For eyes stared at what was a realization centuries in the making. . . 

A realization that this. . . For once. . . This felt right.

 

 

 

With arms held aloft in the freezing air, the Repentant shut his eyes, and bathed in the glorious feeling.

 

 

This was redemption. 

 

 

And so he smiled. 

[usercultist 148]

1 hour ago, lemonke said:

"BAHAHAKAKAAKAKAKA! It seems those who backstab have finally met their end. All it took was spreading lies, sowing hatred, and gathering just enough information to bring chaos within their ranks. Let this be a lesson for them—mortals are as useful as the dead. Life itself is a tool, meant to be manipulated, bent, and wielded to achieve greater strength and grandiose ambitions."

 

The High Priestess of the Black Church cackled, her laughter echoing with joyous delight as she took in the unfolding events. Nevertheless, she presented the news to the others in her horde. Her hatred for Mordring burned ever brighter, the desire to slay him festering and growing with each passing day. Yet, for now, her accursed gaze shifted to move toward the desert—where new targets awaited. She'd continue to use her mortal allies to pursue her dream of conquest.

 

"One by One. I will win, Aratakrast!"

 

  Reveal hidden contents

 

A particularly monolithic undead idly scratched its agape ribcage, a basket-woven skull crumpled in its palm. It still didn't quite understand its master's hatred for the place but it was happy nonetheless.

[Ninjay 1184]

The vagrant Jay Amaranth returned to the site, some time after retreating from the explosion and treating the wounds he'd accrued. In years past he'd happily assisted in terrorizing the Xionists, necromancers, and other ne'er-do-wells within, but looking upon the flaming crater where it once stood felt bittersweet.

On one hand, had was happy to see the place destroyed, and its residents scattered to the wind, even if only temporarily. He still recalled all the trouble they had raised over the years: kidnapping friends of his, attacking people, and what not.

On the other, though, he was quite disappointed that he had never managed to steal anything of great value from the place before it was obliterated. Seems the kleptomania would have to wait to be sated.

Above all, though, he wished his friend Conan would quit his silly trips and come back on at least some occasions, that they may go cause problems for others as they once did to Lumbridge.

[Fishy 2709]

Tsukinomiya Honda basked his strained arms in the pale hued light of Malchediael's flames. A long fight it had been, even more so with all the equipment he had borne. Well worth it in his mind, such were the customs of his people. A mask to cleanse the air one breathed, a blade oil to strike the incorporeal, and a gauntlet that clapped like thunder from the Heavens. What glee when his foe's sword crumbled to dust when bared against the weapon he wore. Curious still, however, was whatever propelled him to gamble his life before the amalgam of lost souls, a cruel grin cracking his features when it whiffed its sole attack upon him. Surely, it was as if the fates had ordained victory that day.

[MysticalWeasel 910]

Spoiler

 

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“Such might, to cleanse a festering sore. Yet to kill those without form, it is not enough to cut the cancer at the surface. Must expunge it all lest it spread elsewhere"

 

‡

Distant speech, of a pale rider. His own steed a putrid cycle of rebirth. Sacs heavy with fluid, and skin bulging with life festering underneath. King of Worms surveyed the aftermath, the constant sound of heavy heaving coming from his steed. His mind rattling, pondering if any true victory came from this. Or was it an act of petty anger. Trampling amongst the quaked ground, finding nothing but the steaming molten. No clues could feed his hunger for information, of the source of this power. Returning from whence the earth spawned his madness, the King of Worms finding no satisfaction in knowing that they shall merely spread elsewhere. Divine hymns summon him to continue expelling rot, elsewhere.
 

[JesterMilk 247]

Ryomen barely escaped with the Pale-Lord statue. He had stuck by him the entire time, defending it tooth an nail. Whether this was an act of self preservation; the Palelord being an intimidating deterrent as well as a sort of tank, or, an act of loyalty, not wanting the behemoth to come to harm, was uncertain. The Ronin's blades had drawn blood for the lord that day, he had lost no friends. The same could not be said for his enemies.