The Committee

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The strongest of an ancient kingdom, the Committee, head out to complete tasks for the Committee Head.

Fantasy / Action
Age Rating:

0| Conduit

Envoys of the Fifth Hell had found purchase. Ghastly spectres of flame found rest at pyres which were once called home by the now ashen townsfolk.

A boy of age five ran from the scene of his family’s culling. His legs gave out on the town square. Here, four wide pavements connected to form a vast empty space from which he would witness the scale of this incursion. Once calling this inferno home, only a few structures lay unscathed, waiting to be defiled.

The boy trembled on the ground, gasping at breaths of air through the ever-present smoke. He closed his eyes as tears rolled down his cheeks. He lay broken, his mind perceiving only the boundless void. Yet, he started to hear cacophony; a sound which seemed to rend the sky, growing louder without consideration for outside ears.

The survivor and the unholy things looked up, their eyes widened at the silver comet rushing across the dark veil. It halt to a stop right above the boy, and a short figure dropped from above.

Before her feet even touched the ground, the most perceptive of the demons screamed "Committee!". A rout ensued, a mad dash to the edges of the town to preserve their spark of life.

The space around the town seemed to briefly distort, as if ripples ran through a solid dome. It quickly turned still like glass; the hellbound took no notice.

The figure wore a white, silver-lined robe that seemed to shimmer with its colors even amongst the orange gazes of the flames. The robe concealed her visage well yet it granted her unimpaired vision.

“Never make deals with demons, or you’ll die just like everyone you have ever loved.”

The boy who had briefly gained respite from his tears, was pushed back into his sorrows by the forceful hand of the stranger's words.

The boy’s soul stung, not by the harshness of the words which he could not completely comprehend, but by the lack of care in her tone.

She panicked, clumsily pulling back her hood. The boy saw a very young visage that reflected not the age of its wearer.

“Hey, it’s okay! You’re too cute to die. Your town just did some bad stuff and went from hot to really hot!”

She pointed to a nearby pile of scorched corpses, “You see, now that’s hot.”

The roar of the fire was the only response. The boy continued his wails.

The quickest of the demons had met the transparent dome; they pounded at it to no avail.

The girl put her robe on the boy, touched one of the runes inside the sleeve and recited, “Float like a cloud, for I am Jackson.”

The boy was then propelled into the air by Jackson, he contacted not with glass, but a soap bubble that seemed to let him pass through with minor distortion, sticking to him only briefly.

Two long, metal pyramids with a three sided base, descended from each hand. On the top of the pyramids was a ring which allowed these metal weapons to be connected to chains which attached around Jackson’s arms. They had come from nothingness and manifested unto reality at direct command. They were thrown in opposite directions, seeming to extend nearly without limit.

Once the chains had extended to the radius of the town, the length of the chains remained constant as the bearer of these weapons then spun half-circle. The summoned metals seemed to pass through all obstruction as if moving through void, tearing through wood, stone and unholy flesh.

The remaining debris and gore was torn apart by the ensuing shockwave that crushed every splinter in the town; the ferocity of the destruction shattered the barrier.

Almost instantly after the deed was done, the pyramids were retracted. She caught the pyramids and the silvery metals burst into a flash of wispy lights that lingered only for a few moments.

The fires of life and wood had been extinguished in one blow. The town was levelled, yet the remaining lifeforce of the demons manifested themselves red, one of the demon lords had used his own death as a catalyst for a spell.

The red light freed itself from the powdery ground and coalesced, forming a rift in space. It let through a great and ancient dragon, his mouth agape, he menaced at Jackson. She could see the kindlings of his fire forming in the darkness of his throat, yet this did not matter.

Jackson charged at the monster, quicker than its body and mind would allow it to react. She knew her normal attacks would not suffice; she had not the patience to strike more than once; summoning a pentagonal silver pillar. It was thick and it would have been taller than its wielder if laid on the ground, she summoned this into her hand, and swung at the dragon’s head.

Remnants of blood were left on the pillar, the neck of the dragon no longer had a head. A dragon whose scales adventurers could try a thousand times to pierce yet fail, now lay lifeless

Jackson had to apply little effort when she retrieved the floating boy.

“Your name is now Leon.”
“But that’s not my name-”
Your name is now Leon.

Jackson called to her partner, and the three of them went off to the Grand Cathedral.

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