Liliana Vess Defiant Necromancer

Liont woke up to the beautiful winter sun. Its faint light streamed onto his face, insisting upon his wakeful attention. Normally the shutters were closed to prevent such an early awakening, but he had forgotten to close them last night. One of the wooden shutters hung askew. I'll have to fix that later. He had a full day's work ahead of him, and he wanted to start.

His business was booming--never had his smithing been in more demand. He was at the forge or anvil for most of the day, and he was likely going to take a second apprentice soon. Ever since Avacyn's return almost a year ago, the demand for new tools and plows was high. And ever since the Cursemute, Liont was able to satisfy that demand.

The Cursemute. Everything had changed with the Cursemute, a blessing wrought by Avacyn's magic. Liont had been cured entirely, and he said his blessings to Avacyn every day. He was back with his family, back in his home. Able to travel to the town, and look people in the eye, and know no fear. The absence of fear was wonderful, the absence of dread and worry and weight, no more constant gnawing clutching at his insides. No more staring up at the moon, wondering if night would bring the darkness, the true darkness. All dissipated into the light, thanks to Avacyn's benevolent power. He had a life again. A life with his family.

( And because this is Innistrad, everything would be just fine. )

[Warning for NPC death and (offscreen) child death. Adapted and (lightly) edited from "A Gaze Blank and Pitiless" by Ken Troop. NFI, NFB, and, listen, Innistrad has several lovely qualities, none of which will be on display for awhile.]

Macher paced the cloistered courtyard in the inner sanctum of the church, an acid unease gnawing his stomach. The courtyard was normally a place of serene comfort for him. A lush, beautiful garden where he could retreat away from the world's horrors and pain, especially in the cool dark night when no other priest walked its paths.

But when the pain was inside the soul, no place offered succor.

( What is a god to a nonbeliever? )

Even through his fear and closed eyes, he could sense a luminescence drawing close. A chill shook his spine and he screamed. The scream subsided, and he heard a whispered "Soon," as a light, feathery touch brushed his face. A flapping of wings, and the luminescence vanished. It was a long time before he opened his eyes. He lay there huddled through the night, cloaked in terrifying certainty about the nature of his god.

[Taken, unedited, from "A Gaze Blank and Pitiless," by Ken Troop. (First section of that here.) NFI, NFB. Look, this is just what Innistrad is like sometimes, okay?]

The courtyard Liliana and her undead escort walked out into was beautiful. It resembled an ornate garden with stands of fruit trees and gold-and-white flowers clearly cultivated with painstaking care. Directly in front of them was the Tree of Redemption, an ancient, sprawling tree with crimson leaves. It was beautiful and welcoming - at least until one looked closely enough to see the nooses that dangled from the branches.

"This is where you'll end up with Avacyn's grace," the corpse of Kelse said from where she was flanking Liliana's left.

"Well, she should really get right on that," Liliana said, striding forward under the tree. As she passed under the boughs, the nooses burned with black fire and fell to ashes to the ground. A stupid waste of power. Rope was cheap and it wasn't like she cared about anyone who'd ever been executed on this tree. But it was the principle of the thing and right now Liliana's principles extended a hearty fuck you, to the Church and anything resembling 'Avacyn's grace.'

As they passed beneath the tree into the heart of the garden, the fruit trees gave way leaving an open view of the rest of the courtyard. The Kirch Falls thundered beneath them down into the Lake of Herons, but even the massive falls couldn't take attention away from the focal point of the back of the courtyard: ( The Helvault )

For a moment, all sound ceased.

Then cracks appeared in the Helvault, rays of light piercing through the night from within. Then a blast obliterated the ghouls, knocked the cathars to the ground, and flung Liliana and Thalia backwards off their feet. A helix of golden light streaked skyward from the remains of the Helvault, illuminating the sky with its brilliant glow. The sundered monolith, fell to pieces and ribbons of dark Æther flew away in all directions; a host of demonic entities now freed of their prison. A tall gray-skinned, white-haired kor woman staggered out of the remains of the rock and vanished in a resounding boom. Liliana raised her eyebrows - a Planeswalker had been imprisoned in the Helvault? And then a guttural cry sent shivers through their very souls as a ten foot tall demon with huge bat-like wings that seemed to blot out the sky and arms that ended in wicked scythes pulled himself free.

Liliana struggled to her feet, mouth forming his name, but Griselbrand didn't wait, vaulting himself into the air and flying away. She stared after him, mouth agape as her prey once more escaped her grasp, and only realized there was still one last being in the Helvault when the assembled cathars gasped and pushed themselves to the knees in reverence as a luminous being soared from the wreckage.

Avacyn, the Angel of Hope: pure, whole, and eternal.

"Rise, my cathars," she said in a voice like a golden balm, spreading warmth and healing to all who heard it. They did, all except Thalia, who stayed on her knees, head bowed. From the golden spiral that pierced the sky, hundreds of angels came pouring out, voices raised in song and praise, their despair thrown off at Avacyn's return. "Go, my sisters," Avacyn commanded. "I feel a wrongness in my city, our people need you." Swords held high, the angels turned and arced away towards the remaining undead army in the Outer Ring.

Well, Liliana thought. This might just get awkward.

***
"Oh, good," said Prompto, with a deeply exhausted sigh and a sway on his feet that wasn't even entirely dramatics, "the actual cavalry is finally here."

And indeed they were, and they were remarkably quick about it, too, in a way that made Gladio feel a flash of anger, though he kept swinging his sword to clear up what the angels hadn't gotten to yet. "About damn time," he murmured, shaking his head and taking a moment, to watch the swiftness of just how quickly this particular tide had turned. He was feeling pretty exhausted, too, but mostly just irritated, and he went to fill Ignis in on all that had been happening in the meantime, since he could only imagine what filling in those blanks must have been like for someone only hearing and feeling all of this and not actually getting to see it.

"So what now?" asked Prompto, still somewhat vibrating from the sudden shift in the rush of adrenaline and the relatively sudden cessation of it, or perhaps that was just a shudder from the sudden chill of aftermath. "Do we help? Find the survivors, make sure everyone's okay?"

"I feel like we've done enough cleanup for these guys," Gladio grunted, his sword swinging back to rest on his shoulders for a moment before looking over toward Ignis. "Specs?"

( See? Angels are useless )

[Yet another installment, though the next one is the last! Still, y'all know the drill: NFI, NFB, OOC is great, heap praises on the head of chef_chocobro! Bits taken nearly verbatim from Angel's Rise and Demon's Release by Doug Beyer, but others parts twisted, spindled, expanded and smashed back together. Follows this post and this post and is continued here]

(Excerpt from a letter to the Bishops of Thraben; 48th of Hunter's Moon, Ava. 716)

...The news of Mikaeus's death must be kept secret at all cost. He will be sealed in the Tomb of the Lunarchs with no ceremony. Church business must carry on. To this matter, I am summoning all of the Bishops of Thraben to the Cathedral to discuss how best to carry on without the Lunarch, as well as naming a potential successor. I remind you all, this is not the time to be politicking, we have work to do

As to the murderer, we have set our best inquisitors on solving this heinous crime. Most of the corpse was recovered, but the heart is unaccounted for.

Bishop Alwin

After their phone conversation this morning, Ignis had left Luke's and taken the first portal to Innistrad he could catch, meeting up with her at her manor and portaling to Thraben together, planning what to do now that they had the target in their sights. The early afternoon sun was surprisingly bright for all that it was still bitterly cold, and they'd readied themselves for a long, miserable day of searching for this 'Volpaig,' crossing the length and breadth of the city. And promptly discovered that no such intense search would be required. It did not take long for someone to recognize the name Volpaig; he was, after all, one of the bishops of the Church. Not a particularly high or powerful one, but one with name recognition and a quickly-growing influence.

( Upon hearing this, Liliana simply laughed, low and dark. )

***
Located on the eastern tip of the mesa, Thraben Cathedral towered over the rest of the city, tall and imposing, a constant reminder of the might and glory of Avacyn and her faithful. Though, on their way through the city, Liliana saw no vampires bound and starving to the Bloodless Wall, and few new fangs wedged into the Fang Wall, and felt that was a far better indication of how things were going in the archangel's absence than an oversized building's glimmering spires and brightly colored glass windows. Even more telling was the lack of angels in flight around jutting heights of Avacyn's Tower and the devastated protections on the Blessed Grafs; burial sites that took up entire city blocks around the Cathedral, dedicated to the wealthy, the noble, and the holy.

While Liliana had been narrating these changes to Ignis with an eagerness that some might quantify as 'unseemly,' her voice changed to confusion as they drew close enough for her to see that the Cathedral doors were shut tight. And then shifted from confusion to disdain as she discovered that not every angel had vanished from Thraben; there was at least one, resplendent in burnished armor and white surcoat, standing guard before the doors.

( Angels. Why'd it have to be angels? )

[Preplayed with the most amazing chef_chocobro, who I can't fangirl at hard enough. NFB, NFI, OOC tastes like candy. Follows this post and continues in this one]