"- We can't leave them to die! They're kids, Wenduag!"

(Seelah nods firmly.)

"Lann thinks that if he can find an angel's sword nobody could ever turn up before, he could get more people killed."

Vann nods thoughtfully. "If the only way to the surface is through the Shield Maze, then we need to head that way anyways. Let's see if we can find the sword first, though..."

She turns to Lann. "Where have you looked already?"

Wenduag looks murderous.

He gives her a yes-excellent look. "We just did back here. This whole area's a new section..."

"Okay, let's spread out and look!"

She's going to take this chance to prestidigitate Camellia's armor clean, along with anyone else who wants the same. 

Then she'll start looking near Wendaug, and attempt to strike up a quiet conversation.

"I want us all to get through this alive. Who are you worried about Lann getting killed, if not just himself?"

"Everyone," she hisses when Lann's out of the way. "He thinks he's some sort of crusader. If he can find the sword he'll wave it under Sull's nose and demand he takes the whole tribe into the Maze, and they'll all throw their lives away trying to save some young fools who are dead already."

Camellia appreciates it. She abhors looking like a butcher.

Ok, yeah, taking a large group through a dangerous area does sound like a great way to get people killed!

She casts message on Wendaug so they can keep talking while they search.

"You're right; that is a terrible idea. I'll talk him out of it. It might have been his best chance of getting through the Maze before we showed up, but a smaller and more experienced group has a much better chance at getting through. If the rest of the tribe wants to come to the surface, we can run rope down the chasm we fell into once we make it up there - that'll be much safer."  

She continues picking through the rubble. Angel sword, angel sword, where are you... 

Wenduag nods, apparently mollified.

There's lots of rubble here. The worked stone looks like an old crusader shrine, but it's been wrecked by the Deskari-induced earthquakes. None of Venn's companions can find it anywhere, though they all do look.

... Hey, what's that shining behind that lump of rock - 

Oh! She reaches out to touch it - 

Her chest is bleeding as the wound Terendelev healed tears open again, blood staining her shirt.

She is the Angel Lariel and he is dying, and his crusaders are dying around him. It wasn't even demons who'd done it; it was the angel's own men. Why? What spells had been cast, what lies spoken, to make them so throw their afterlives away? The betrayers are lurking out of range of his truesight. Even now, it is fear that drives them, fear more than any hope...

(The thoughts are very clear in her mind, as if she was thinking them herself. Is she Venn or Lariel?) 

There is one crusader dying by his side. She'll meet his friends in Heaven, tonight, but for himself he is spent, his power and his magic depleted, his flaming sword barely guttering. But he still has a few last moments left, here in these caverns beneath the city, and every moment is a chance to do what's right -

Augh - it hurts so much - both the pain and the knowledge that they've been betrayed by their allies, knowing that she'll die without knowing why... 

 but the pain isn't what matters, right now,

every moment is a chance to do what's right

she pushes herself up and then leans towards her dying ally. Her magic spent, she does what she can to tend to the wounds with her hands, despite the horrible pain she's in. She sings softly, to hold her composure, an angelsong of hope and light and tomorrow. 

And the wound fades and the woman wakes, and then blanches in fear.

It's an alien thought to Lariel, but it is an alien sensation; a feeling of the world warping around him. It is a Power gathering, and though Lariel is a Power, too, he is far lesser. The horror can only be seen in shadow, and then an outline - and then nothing but a nightmare. The mere sound of it pierces through flesh and bone like a heated spear; a rustling, rasping noise of insects and clicking metal. The traitors are prostrate and the creature approaches, giant and monstrous and the connection struggles - what Lariel sees is almost impossible for mortals to comprehend, and the [sight/sensation/translation] is itself a new agony -

Deskari... no...

"Run..." she croaks to her former allies, because it's the only chance they have, and then she's shouting, tears streaming down her face, the pain and horror overwhelming, 

"Run! Run until your legs give out! You mustn't give in! You can't let the Abyss claim you!" 

They remain prostrate in horror and worship, as Deskari moves unnaturally fast, lifting Lariel by his throat to stare him eye to eye -

"Where is your goddess now, angel? Where her proud herald, where her great hosts? How is it that she leaves you here, to die in the dark?" Deskari is not speaking to him, Deskari is speaking to be heard. His voice is not one; it is a young man's confident shout and an old man's quavering voice and a new mother and a warrior and more besides, every one of them speaking slightly off the others and all of them formed of the rustling of myriad myriads of insects.

(Lariel's sword is still in his hand.)

She grips the sword tightly, and tries to push as much of her power, her essence, her very self into it, and 

if they see that even He can be hurt, maybe, maybe then - 

she takes the last of her strength and swings

The blow sears Deskari's flesh and the sound of the blow is a discordant shrieking and grinding as Deskari's armor plates warp and shift together, his form twisting to cover the injury. The more noise of it is enough to make the last crusader (trying to run, now) vomit, as the cultists stare in horror. Deskari hurls Lariel aside and raises his scythe in both hands for the killing blow. 

Lariel stabs his sword deep into the rock, burying it there up to the hilt with all the power invested in it, that someone (some hero) may some day draw it from there again, and with his last words says -

(The vision is fading as Riftcarver falls)

"We'll never stop fighting you. A-and someday we'll wi-"

The vision breaks and she's back in the physical world again, the wound in her chest closing without even a scar. The only evidence it was there is the blood staining her shirt.

The sword - the soul of the sword - is in her hand. She can call it whenever she needs it.

"... You all right, Venn?" She was just glowing.

She gasps, eyes incredibly wide. "I - Lariel - "

- acting on instinct, she raises her hand high and reaches, calling out to the soul she knows is there.