The world was a mess. With many of Revaliir succumbing to the illness thanks to the remaining Eldritch material, several of them had given up on their passions until they were basically the living dead - alive, but with no reason to live other than because that was what you did. Harker, cursed as he was, understood how much love meant in the world - his own lover had broken his heart, and left him a living statue himself. He was alive, he was mobile, he could still shapeshift, but he could not longer feel, his stone skin impenetrable by normal means (handy given his job as a Hunter) but it meant he could feel neither warmth nor cold nor the touch of another.
He had joined the masses at the Heartstone Camp, seeking out the Goddess to see if she was alright - they had met, and she had been able to cut his stone flesh… something no one else had managed before, even with magic imbued weapons - though he supposed that was to be expected given she was a Goddess.

In his world, Harker had been born a Druid - it was as much his race as his job - as such he had been at one with nature, with the living world, he was used to vicious plants and animals, but he had never feared such things for he was a part of them, just as they were a part of him. His curses had pulled him away from that, leaving him devoid of the ability to reach out and feel the rough bark of a tree beneath his palms, or caress the silken fur of a doe, it had left the man hollow, empty… far more like the stone man he had been turned into he supposed, mere rock and power but little else.

Angela had helped to satiate his hunger for the time being, which would allow the Hunter to complete his work and seek out this maleffect pearl and help destroy it, alongside the others that had found their way to Mo'Mey. Not one for working in a team, Harker had set out from the Heartstone camp alone - if he met others along the way then so be it, but he was not a man for small talk and camaraderie, not these days, not since Thalia had hurt him so. The man cast his golden eyes upward, brows furrowed as he sought the top of the tower. It was going to be a long and arduous climb, of that he was certain, it was doubtful that the Eldritch material wished to be parted from its prize, not know it had hold. Bo staff in one hand, the Hunter snorted and strode into the tower, ready for whatever was awaiting him.

It was almost time. While everyone had been fighting their way up the tower, Shiloh had turned her efforts towards buying them time. From the Clepsydra, containers full of powdered fungus blasted the Spire, hitting at random. The impact and explosions were what did the most damage than the contents, but it did discourage the malachite from focusing completely on the 'invaders' within. The problem with the stone was how easily it was recovering from the damage, though as long as it didn't expand its reach in the wastes, there was a chance somebody would make it to the top. For a while the hits had been aiming around the middle and base, but it was time to change up the program. If the eldritch residue had gotten too used to repairing damage down below, it was time to give it a rude awakening. 

One of her remotely controlled automaton shells was scouting the situation on the ground before it was time to open fire. Seeing someone who wasn't malachite-infested, the metallic form made a sprint to intercept them. "I highly suggest leaving this area." The distorted voice from the automaton warned the stone man. "Very soon things are going to take an unpredictable turn. All joining parties are to be escorted out of the blast zone prior to initiation." It was highly unlikely this person would comply, as who would be willing to turn back after braving the wastes? But she still was obligated to give the warning, as she didn't want more people to get caught up in what was going to happen. The Spire was likely to react violently to the nasty surprise it would be getting, and that would impact whoever was inside right now. Once the first salvo was thrown, it would kick the wheels of fate into motion. The next phase would be a breakneck race against time before the final shot was fired. The other gods were giving it their all, and she wasn't going to be outdone. 

'Captain, the canisters are now ready for launch. Shall we proceed?' This wasn't good, her crew had the spotted lactarius indigo powder already loaded. 'Standby for fifteen seconds.' She telepathically told the automatons up above in her airship. She couldn't make the decision until she heard the person's answer to her request. Because once the rounds hit–there would be no turning back.