Worthy Core

Turning his attention toward the noble twins, Arlon addresses the half-elves. "Now, I wonder. It's easy enough to guess what the fury demon and her team are attempting to do here. Mind explaining your own purpose, my ladies?"

Speaking up before her sister can say the wrong thing, Silva answers the man. "I often perform a general divination every morning, as part of my usual routine. Imagine my surprise when the fates told me that there would be a crime of grave importance here in the woods today. We came to investigate, and it appears we managed to catch a party of thieves in the act."

"I see, I see. And you certainly didn't have agents telling you that we were expecting a vital delivery today? I also assume you were going to hand over the relic to us once you had retrieved it?" Arlon raises an eyebrow at the noblewoman, wondering just how she intends to play this.

"Oh, is that yours? Well, certainly, if it belongs to you then it would be returned. Of course, we would need to confirm its true identity and ownership before handing it over, just to be on the safe side."

Sansie snorts at that verbal maneuver. "And how long would such a confirmation take? Weeks, if you hire the slowest messenger in the town? Time enough to sabotage our arrangement with the dungeon? Nice try, Silva, but I'm afraid it won't work. We're here now, so if you'd kindly give the treasure over to us, we'll allow you all to just fuck off. Doesn't that sound gracious?"

Still standing next to a wincing Lyota, Randall twirls his dagger with a sneer. "Ugh, sometimes there's just too much talking. And possession is nine-tenths of the argument, so be a good girl and hand it over now, Silverstar." He turns back towards the demon, dagger raised, but Lyota leaps backwards once again - and this time she shouts out a command to her party, their hands already itching towards their weapons.

"Composition of Chaos! Passy, Lionel, now!" Raylin turns his attention towards the woman, wondering if he ought to try literally winging her with his bow, but in that moment of indecision he loses his shot. A sudden flare of light fills the clearing, blinding the entire assembly, but even as their vision turns to spots the sound of a flute playing makes itself heard.

The light doesn't last for long, and when it fades Gilda is already marching into the clearing with her sword drawn. "Alright, that's it! We'll take them down and then - Silva?" She pauses as she realizes her sister isn't marching alongside her, and as she looks back she notices a look of panic on Silva's face.

"That song! The fates are dancing - we're dancing, it's...oh, no." Without further warning Silva's enchanted eye flashes out with a light to rival Passy's solar spells, and for the second time in as many moments every Challenger present finds themselves blinded. Again, the light only lasts for a moment, but when their vision returns the clearing is truly filled with chaos beyond anything Lyota could have possibly anticipated when she told Lionel to cast his spell.

Dozens of individuals are now swarming the clearing, shouting, swinging weapons, and firing spells. Four different Lyotas and half a dozen Randalls each seem to still carry halves of the relic, and as several of the Lyotas begin to take into the air Arlon shouts out a command. "Redbeard! Sansie! Keep the demon - demons - grounded!"

"Yes, my lord!" Priest Redbeard's voice echoes as three of them respond, and they eye each other cautiously for only a moment before summoning the wrath of the Goddess of Storms. Combined with gusts of wind from at least one Sansie the sky above the clearing soon becomes a maelstrom of wind and snow, and both of the flying demons soon find themselves blown back towards the ground - one being tossed hard into a tree, a wing likely breaking against its branches.

For his part most of the Randalls don't hesitate to dive into the melee, backed up by Sweet, but as several of them turn their focus towards the Perlins a Gilda reaches for her sister. "Silva! What just happened!? Who here is real?"

"All of us! None of us! That - that damned Bard! He asked the fates to alter the odds of events, but - oh god, my eye." Silva clamps a hand over her artificial eye as a realization occurs to her. "My eye let them in!"

Both of the Gildas now looking at her do so with confused expressions. "What? Let who in?"

"The fates are normally limited to subtle shifts in the mortal world! But the spell on my eye allows them to display the canvas of possibility to anyone...and when enhanced by the Bard's song..." She trails off as it occurs to her that the song is still playing. "The spell isn't going to end as long as the song plays!"

"Then we're just going to have to - oh, gods!" Gilda pulls back in shock as a Sweet falls to the ground next to her, rolling in the snow to attempt to put out the flames currently immolating her. Before she can attempt to assist, another Sweet rushes up to the pair.

"My ladies! This is - this is ridiculously hazardous! I've already killed two kobolds and I have no idea if I've actually killed anyone yet! I strongly recommend we retreat!"

"Retreat? Now? This is our chance to secure our position! Come, Kalin, let us spill blood together!" Gilda raises her sword, running into the melee with two of her cousins following, as Gilda watches on with widened eyes.

"What? No! Somebody stop me! Why would I - oh gods what am I doing

!?" As she watches on in panic she sees herself rush towards a fallen relic fragment, and in the process she crosses blades with an Arlon attempting to do the same. The Arlon seems to be rather shocked to find himself in direct combat with a noble rival, but the Gilda does not, and quickly begins ordering one of her Duelist cousins around in order to help her flank him. Elsewhere another Arlon is battling a goblin while a third is hanging back to protect his party, but the one engaged in combat with herself quickly pulls back Gilda's attention. "We can't kill a Perlin over this! I'm not that foolhardy!"

Next to her, the closest Silva sighs. "Maybe you wouldn't be, but a version of you where you found a bug floating in your morning breakfast? Stubbed your toe on the hike here? You can't deny you have a bit of a temper."

"Really? Ugh, whatever - Sweet! All of you, help me find the damn incubus! We need to stop this!" The woman raises her sword and a pair of gnolls move in to flank her, one of them sporting a number of arrows jutting out of one shoulder. The three of them move through the center of the clearing, avoiding the Arlons and Randalls and Lyotas struggling in a messy melee, and begin to search for Bards on the other side of the fight. Unfortunately, that search is far too successful. There's at least eight copies of the man playing songs on various instruments or simply singing, and as one of her Sweets throws a blade at one, it simply passes right through him.

Giving a growl, the woman starts sniffing at the air. "Bardic illusions. A weak copy of the spell compared to a proper Mage's version, but - forgive me, my other senses are nearly useless like this. Some of them are flesh and blood, and I can smell him from every direction!"

Gilda gives a growl of her own as she pushes forward, blocking a magical light blast with her shield. "Then stab them all and we'll sort them out afterwards!"

On the House Perlin side of the confusion, Raylin finds himself with a case of choice paralysis as the Marksman has trouble deciding who his primary target ought to be. The Domain party started all this, and yet Gilda and Kalin have already wounded his cousin with their blades not very far away from him. At the same time an Arlon stands not five feet from him, guarded by a pair of very confused Taylims, and he's uncertain if he ought to be actually concerned for his cousin or not. "Arlon! Are...are you in trouble?"

The one next to him can only shrug. "I...might be? If one of me is slain, does that kill me when the spell ends? I don't know if I should come to my aid or not."

Another Raylin steps up next to the first with a dismissive tone in his voice. "Let's not be the ones to find out, eh?" He raises his bow and prepares to fire, but finds his weapon knocked aside by Raylin.

"Are you mad!? That woman is carrying my - our - my child! You can't kill her!"

The second rolls his eyes and recovers his stance. "Fine, fine - I'll do the other one, then." With that said he fires his bow, and in the center of the clearing a Kalin suddenly slumps over. Seeing her cousin slain, the Gilda standing next to him screams in rage - an opening which the wounded Arlon uses to stab her in the throat.

"Arlon! What have you done!?"

The one next to Raylin turns towards him with widened eyes. "I'm - I'm sorry! Normally I would have gone for a non-lethal - oh dear gods, what is that?" Raylin turns his head towards the other side of their grouping, where a pair of Sansies were exchanging magical blasts with the Domain kobolds, and quickly sees what worried his cousin so much. With the banging of weapons on shields, a number of Wetears begin summoning forth their mystical shieldbrothers - with extra copies for every physical goblin. Within moments there's at least twenty goblins charging the Perlins, a true horde of flesh and magic, and the party's Taylims all quickly move to intercept them.

Unfortunately, even with a few Arlons joining in it turns into a battle of five versus a score, and it's not long at all before some of them have gotten into the party's rear. One Sansie loses an arm, another her head, and it's only a quick swarm of arrows from both Raylins and a few lightning bolts from a Redbeard that keeps them from getting any further.

At least, until a Randall appears from almost nowhere and drives daggers into the necks of both defending Arlons. The Protectors shout in dismay, too distracted by summoned goblins to turn their attention, but as the smug-looking rogue turns to slip away he finds himself suddenly impaled on a giant dagger, courtesy of the gnoll who had leapt twenty feet to land behind him. Before he can utter any final spells a second dagger relieves him of his head, and the Bloodletter turns towards the remaining Perlins.

"My lords, we didn't order him to do that! We should be working together!"

The disarmed Sansie nods in agreement, but another with fire in her eyes steps towards the gnoll with her wand crackling with electricity, and in the split second it takes for Sweet to control her instincts a second Elementalist is relieved of a hand. "Ah! I didn't - she shouldn't have attacked me!"

Shaking his head, Raylin tries to find something to focus on. "Just - just find a way to shut off that damn spell!"

On another side of the clearing, two Silvas are attempting to do just that. "Can we use future-sight to determine which ones are real?" The other shakes her head.

"That's the problem, they're all real! Every future is equally valid until the spell ends and one is chosen!"

"This is the effect of a chaos spell - how about we remove some of the chaos?"

"Yes...by decreasing the number of players on the field? A possibility-prune? It would lock some down - but that damn Bard's a damn engine of chaos right now, it won't work on him!"

"Then we target his allies!" The other nods, and they both get to work on a joint spell, something which the Diviner rarely has the opportunity to engage in. Picking their targets from the opposite end of the clearing, they get to chanting, guiding the future of their opponents. It's a powerful spell, the ability to force a person onto a particular path, usually far too powerful for even two Silvas working together to manage. Combined they could perhaps chart a person's course minutes ahead, perhaps even only moments - but it's not the amount of time or even the specific path that matters. All they require is that only one path be present.

On the other side of the melee, Barny and Passy find themselves more than a little disoriented as their twins, living or otherwise, suddenly fade out and only a single instance of each of them remains. Intense headaches strike both of them, and Barny raises a hand towards his companion. "Gah! I'll try a purifying flame, maybe it'll help with whatever just happ - " The rest of his sentence is cut off along with his life as a Randall drives a blade into his chest, and Passy's cry is stillborn as Gilda's sword does the same to her. Looking up at her hireling, the noble's voice is filled with frustration.

"Can't one of your bizarre spells do something about this, 'Problem Solver'!?"

Annoyingly, the man answers with a smirk. "In the midst of all this chaos? So far, ending one problem has just led to another. Although...perhaps there's a way to solve this problem with a problem. One moment, if you would." With that said the half-elf begins to run towards the nearest Bard, but does so on a path that leads him right past a Lyota, one who's just finished punching out a Kalin. With him winking at her as he runs by, the Soul Lasher feels more than motivated enough to try and bring the man down before he can hurt any more members of her team.

"Fatestealer! Watch yourself!" Shouting out even as she pulls forth her whip, Lyota manages to lash it around Randall's arm, halting his dagger before he can strike the nearest Bard down. Unfortunately for her, striking the demon with his blade was never the man's intention. Even as Lyota's magic surges through the whip, sending a sensation of burning across Randall's soul, the rogue reaches out and grabs Lionel with his free hand, pulling him close. Close enough to bring him into contact with the magically charged weapon.

And while there may be many Lionel Fatestealers scattered around the clearing, they only possess a single soul.

The moment of searing pain caused by the lash only lasts a moment, with Lyota quickly canceling her attack, but it proves more than sufficient. With a brief scream of pain which cuts off halfway through, all of the Bard's songs and spells suddenly stop. One by one Challengers begin to blink out of existence as the fates chose their winners and losers, and those left standing find themselves left with expressions of horror at what remains at the end of it.

Barny and Passy lie where they fell, the kobolds' fates sealed by Silva's spell and the blades of her party.

Kalin Deepwoods' corpse sits in the center of the clearing, an arrow jutting from the Noble Duelist's skull.

A badly burned Sweet chugs health potion after health potion, attempting to restore her ability to climb back up to her feet.

Not far away, a battered Lyota Silverstar has collapsed to her knees, a wing almost shattered and her face badly bruised.

In the House Perlin gathering, Priest Redbeard moves quickly to heal the stump of Sansie's right arm, making sure the Elementalist doesn't bleed to death in the snow.

And a distraught Taylim howls at the sight of his failure, as the Noble Protector falls to his knees next to the corpse of Arlon Perlin.

Shocked into silence, the surviving Perlins barely notice as Gilda and Silva walk up to them, one half of the relic held in Gilda's hand. Staring down at her fallen rival, it takes even Gilda a few moments to figure out what to say. "I...I'm sorry. This...did not turn out at all as I expected."

Turning towards her with anger flashing in his eyes, Raylin begins to shout. "It was your damned assassin who did this! Where is he!?" An excellent question, as those present begin to search the clearing and discover that he's not the only one missing. No sign of the incubus Bard can be seen, or his goblin companion - or, for that matter, the other half of the dungeon relic. Noticing this, Silva begins to curse.

"They got away! After all that - and Sweet is in no condition to track them! This is so much worse than my divination ever suggested!"

Gritting her teeth, Sansie speaks through the pain of her lost limb. "Well, at least you'll be handing over that half of the relic now - yes?"

To her frustration, Gilda's expression grows stony. "...I would like to take this opportunity to negotiate." Even Silva seems shocked by her sister's words, but Raylin laughs, unsurprised.

"Of course you would. And what is your generous offer, Enchantress?"

Fixing his stare with hers, Gilda continues. "Your expedition is crippled. I will return this half of the relic to you - but you must throw your support behind House Highbranch for claim over these lands."

The Marksman laughs in her face, as he gestures at his fallen cousin. "We have no authority to speak for House Perlin, now. Arlon's father would never agree to that just for the return of something that's already ours by right, whatever our ability to clear the dungeon may be."

Gilda nods slightly as she adjusts her proposal. "Then...as representative of your house expedition, if not your full house, speak in our favor to the spirit of Worthy Dungeon instead. Gain us her support, and...and I shall also acknowledge you as the father of my child. Our child."

Raylin's eyes widen slightly at that. "Meaning what, exactly? Marriage? I have to admit, your acceptance of my proposal in front of the still-warm corpses of our kin was not how I ever expected this to turn out."

The half-elf grimaces. "We can discuss...marriage at a later time. But I will allow you a role in raising the child, at the least."

As Redbeard moves to assist Taylim in tending to Arlon's body, and a heavily-singed Sweet begins to restrain the injured Lyota, Sansie walks up to her cousin's side. "Do you want to consider this, Raylin? She's right - as the only uninjured noble member of our party, practical leadership of the expedition falls to you. It's your choice whether or not we continue our efforts in the dungeon. We do still have others who could assist you."

"But none as talented as you or dear Arlon." After looking to Sansie and then back towards Gilda, Raylin takes a long moment to close his eyes and exhale. When he finally opens them again, there's a steely look in his expression. "I agree to your proposal...in principle." Briefly, he pauses.

"...But we have further conditions to discuss."