eleventh rune; unholy; video

[deadelfwalking]

[He thought he could handle this situation on his own, somehow. He thought he would sort it out eventually, that it wouldn't matter to anyone but him -- these were creatures designed for his torment, meant to make him suffer. Their harsh murmurs tear at him more deeply and specifically than anyone else; unlike the others, he feels their burning claws slice into his back, their eyes boring into him. The demons curl around his ankles like unwanted cats; they settle in the chinks of his armor and hiss, their whispers as corrosive as acid. They don't tell him anything he hasn't heard before, which is partly why he's taken so long to say anything. He feels sure that the problem was contained--confined, even, to Koltira alone.

But recent posts on the network suggest that this is not the case.

Koltira stands in the center of his lake, on his platform of ice. Byfrost is stuck into the platform beside him, its blade completely invisible beneath the thick, writhing mass of miasma that envelops it.]

I apologize. If you have heard cruel whispers recently, or seen the shadows emerge from the dark and give chase, then I am to blame. They are demons meant for me, released by the evolution of my runeblade.

[He pauses a moment before continuing. His usually inscrutable expression is pained: his eyes are half-closed, his lips are thin, and his long eyebrows are drawn together in frustration. He hates that he has to do this, but there's no other choice.]

I cannot defeat them. They are reaching out from their own plane of existence, a realm of shadows.

[Another pause. He's getting there. It's happening.]

I ... I am powerless to enter this place. But if any of you are willing, I can send you to it. You could clear them away.

[His fingers close into a clenched fist over his chest. He exhales.]

Please.