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Fading Flame (In Character)



skinny legend


The elven child held on tight to Clanus's waist as they galloped through the forest as fast as lightning. The reasoning behind the sudden shift of plans was completely unknown to her, Clanus had informed her of nothing. Ko was nowhere to be found, the tiny butterfly was unable to hang on to the sunflower at such a fast pace, however, the young elf hadn't noticed. Pip had hidden on her left boot, while Tooth had hidden on her right boot. Leafa was extremely curious of why they were suddenly on the move, she held her tongue for as long as she could, which wasn't very long, merely five to ten minutes after they had departed, she asked Clanus about it.

"Hey! Why did we have to leave? And where are we going? | "Well y'see Leafa, we're goin'ta fight... a big bad 'un."

"Huh? Another giant spider? Tell me what it is!" | "Oh, it's uh... a Darkmage, Leafa. Big bad 'un with magicks, keep yer head down when ya see 'im alright? He's real dangerous."

"Nuh uh, not this time! Whatever it is, it doesn't scare me one bit! I'm staying by your side and I'm going to protect you, no protesting!" | "This 'un is the big one, Leafa. No jokin' alright? Keep ya head down on this one, an' stay behind me. Promise?"

Before she could argue any further with him, from the wolfhorse beside theirs, a petit woman with light peach hair intervened, she spoke calmly and reassuringly.

"Don't worry little one! Just listen to what he says, I'm sure you'll come out alright!" | "...but I don't want to just come out alright! I don't want to be-... useless... that's why I couldn't-"

She contained herself, reliving that moment was too painful for her to handle. As if trying to shake the thought out of her head, she shook her head a few times, causing the already fragile vine that held her hair in a ponytail to tear apart, freeing her long brown hair.

"Forget it... come on, just let me help this one time, okay Clanus?"

The petit woman simply gave a small nod, likely coming to the conclusion that she was unable to convince the elven girl to think otherwise. Clanus, more focused on avoiding trees and branches, gave her a barely visible shrug.

"Heh, guess that means I am helping after all-"
"Wait. My hair is... where's Ko?!"

Panicked, she begun to look back and touching her head, searching for any signs of the butterfly; nothing.

"Ko... Ko?! Where are you?! Oh, please come back..."



Not Quiznos

Taryn the Exile

Location: Ruins
Status: Injured/Slightly Relieved/In Combat

Disposition: Slightly Evil
Interacting With: @Kabboom
Mentioned: @Epiphany @KomradeTrappy @Master P @Unwavering Knight @Spireshade @Slop

Just one more damn beast and then I can make the mage pay for my wasted time... She watched as the Warden covered its head and broke into a clumsy run back towards the center. It looks like the Wardens finally figured out that her holograms were never the Succubus herself. That only makes her job harder. In a battle against such a large threat, distractions were vital to winning, otherwise, the beast's sheer size and durability will overwhelm the smaller contender. Taryn let her holograms dissolve; no sense in maintaining a useless trick that drained Light. Taking a brief moment to prepare herself for the slaying of the fourth Warden, Taryn reloaded Astaroth and readjusted the grip on the lance for better balance.

Taking a deep breath, she took off some distance behind the Warden. It was surprisingly fast for a beast its size. However, the Succubus managed to catch up when the Warden halted at the cathedral ruins. It was drawn towards its master, and that would save the Succubus the effort of having to track the mage down after she killed the Darkborne. Coming into the square, the Succubus saw that the cathedral had collapsed, with the Darkness that held it up giving way with some expense of power. That would have to be a later concern. For now, it appeared that three extra large Wardens were combating Aymeline, the Oni, and a half-giant. Wasn't the Inuin supposed to be at the Ridge? What was more spectacular was that the Dark forces were now bolstered with what appeared to be a herd of Rottapults, the intended targets of the ridge group.

The Succubus put the thought aside for now. There were others to deal with the threat. For now, she had to handle the Warden in her sights. Now that the beast was relatively still, Taryn was able to approach. In what a poor move, she dropped to a slide, passing between the Warden's legs just long enough to fire Astaroth into the beast's groin should be. Of course, this would've only been effective if Darkbrone had genitals, but Taryn had forgotten in the moment. Her quarry thrashed as the fire burned its flesh, swinging its massive weapon every which way. Taryn was hoping that the strike would ground the giant, granting her the opportunity to strike, but it appears as if she has no choice but perform a direct attack.

Holstering her expended flintlock, she ran towards Warden and shoved the lance at its head with as much force as she could muster. However, being a comparatively poor hand to hand combatant, Taryn's strike was parried by the Warden's thrashing cleaver, and when she attempted to bring the lance back around for a second strike, the Dark beast recognized her presence and brought its fist into the Succubus's chin, sending her flying back into the rubble. Taryn's invisibility was dropped as she spat a glob of blood out. She was now exposed and injured. There was no way she would be able to block or evade the next strike by her target.

As she prepared to die, a screech came form above. An owl swept down and began to harass the Warden's head with its claws. The small target was far to difficult for the Warden to strike instantly, buying Taryn valuable time to recover from the Warden's strike. When the succubus returned to her feet again, gone was the owl and now assaulting the Warden was a short male with a blowgun. Without the agility that comes with being an owl, however, his opponent was finally able to get a strike in with its cleaver, burying the blade into his body. A gruesome death, but Taryn had to take advantage of it. Taking her lance, she charged at the Warden once again. The beast attempted to swing its cleaver at her, but the body still on it hindered its movement, giving Taryn the opportunity to duck past its guard and drive her lance into the skull of the Warden, killing it. Finally...



Not Quiznos

Audun the Fallen

Location: Ridge
Status: Mildly Injured/Broken Wing/Very Angry

Disposition: Slightly Evil
Interacting With:
Mentioned: (Ridge Group) @Sybil @Beowulf @Epiphany @KomradeTrappy @Master P @Unwavering Knight @Spireshade @Slop

Audun felt the Darkness wrapping itself around his body when it rescinded, he found himself in a sort of ruins with the Rottapults and the remainder of the ridge group with him. This is, plus several large Darkbeasts as large as a giant. This must be the ruins the other group was investigating...and what is this? A powerful dark presence was emitting from nearby. The Nephilim looked over to see the collapsing tower oozing Dark, and a Dark mage standing there, brandishing staff and blade. Disgust filled Audun as the desire to crush a being that gave itself to the Dark so easily coursed through his veins. His veins began turn black, but before he could make a move against the mage, the Rottapults fired another volley towards the Guardians present at the ruins.

The Nephilim grunted and loaded the final shot into the cannon and let loose at the closest Rottapult to him. The cannon ball flew straight and true, tearing flesh and rupturing whatever infernal sac within it that produced its fire. The Darkborne crumpled to the ground, with its body melting at the heat of its own flames. However, its companion enacted vengeance by firing whatever it had gathered in itself straight at Audun. The fireball came hurdling towards the paladin, and with no time to evade, especially with his heavy armor and cannon, he could only hope to attempt to block it. His right wing came up between his body and the incoming projectile in a desperate attempt at defense.

The Rottapult's impact sent Audun to the ground. The mere wing could hardly stand against the force of the fireball, but it offered enough protection to cushion its owner from the impact. That is, however, at the cost of the entire wing's functionality. The hollow bones of the wing shattered under the explosion and the feathers that covered his wings were all but burnt away. Audun bellowed in pain as his wing hung limp on his body, burning. Standing up, the bloody and charred wing only drooped uselessly against his back. Audun let the cannon drop to the ground and drew his sword and the weapon he took from Taryn. Both of them were pulsing red and looked eager to slay all in its way. The corrupted paladin walked forward, issuing his challenge to the Darkmage with a strained shout, "Darkmage! I will tear you to pieces so that not even the Dark can restore you! Surrender and I will consider making your end swift!"


Unwavering Knight

Fool's Errant

"Ah, I see..." the knight emitted quietly as the Beast came at him again, destroyed leg used like a battering ram, the horrifying sounds of smashed viscera and ruined tendons accompanying each and every one of its movements. Sidestepping the savage maneuver, Pryonn readied his lance to strike the monster anew, this time aiming for its head, low to the ground at just the right height as it now was.

Instead, the Beast followed up its ill-fated ram with a lightning-quick punch, bear-sized fist smashing directly into the knight's front to send him reeling back with a surprised grunt and dim creak of armor. The monster came to a pounding halt, its mass-powered weight crashing the stone and earth around it as its devastated leg allowed for no proper grounding, whilst Pryonn stumbled back from the brutal force of its haymaker.

Just barely keeping his footing, it took the knight a few precious seconds as he shook off the effective concussion, helmet dipping as he mumbled "Little cousin..." Righting himself, the knight raised his lance "... like you I was taught the joys of pain." his voice carried inclination, quickly turning to exultation "A child’s lessons, a long dozen, all for needed gain!"

Flourishing his lance, the knight resumed his charge.


Master P

Pat watched as the team destroyed the dark creatures that had be harassing them all this time. A smirk made its name along his face before it turned into a snarl. He saw as tendrils of dark energy shoot out towards the group's adversaries, re-absorbing the dead ones and strengthening and enhancing the ones that were left. For the first time in a long time his jaw stood agape as he watched the dark beast managed to flip over Ay and throw her at the same time. "How the hell?" was all he could say before he realized that the beast was bearing down on him with terrifyingly deceptive speed. He barely had time to brace himself for a right hook from the depths of hell.

He was thrown back with immense force, felt his previously healed ribs protest as his armor took the brunt of the blow. Hey bounced a couple of times before he rolled to a stop "Holy fuck." was all he could manage growl as he struggled to get up. He saw a woman run over to him. He was already up to one knee before she grabbed his arm and tried to haul him to his feet. "I'm fine." he said as he staggered to his feet. He could take punishment like a champion and keep going, but that beast hit harder than an angry woman at a tavern. He looked around at all the destruction. He could feel the chaos around him in a tumult of raw, unfiltered power. It invigorated him. It felt like fire running in his veins, he then sighted the beast and had an idea. From what limited knowledge he had. He was in post of some kind of power that fed on the power of change, basically chaos. And there was a ton of it in these ruins. The more time passer he could feel it swell within him. Waiting to be harnessed.

He stumbled the first few steps but than began breaking into a run, then a dead on charge. His mind was surprisingly clear he remembered the way the knight lady looked. She looked pretty good. He thought to himself. It was very stupid and dangerous what he was about to try. Always was called that back in the company. He thought as the beast grew nearer. He heard Pryonn yelling in verse. Probably about to charge. he thought. That idiot doesn't know when to quit. He noticed a faint outline around his hands, glowing a dark crimson color. he sprinted with all his might to reach the beast and finally made it to the abomination.

He leaped when he was about three feet away from it, his hands and fingers sunk into the seething mass of exposed muscle, a putrid ichor flower wher he tore and ripped at the back of the monster to climb it. He finally made it to where he could grab at its eyes. He sunk his left fingers into its eye sockets, and pulled back, forcing the beast to look up and lose momentum as well as balance. He looked at Pryonn, hoping he was able to withstand what was coming. The the dark crimson flames danced around the outline of his body licking and extending, almost eager to be released. "Time to die!!!" he shouted has he curled forward, feeling the energy stored coalesce, the flames receded before he casted his head and chest out. The flames returned in intensity and expanded outwards violently, resulting in a powered explosion. A dark red shockwave emitted when the explosion, the same dark crimson color resounded. Impacting those in the vicinity of the blast.

Pat was slumped on one knee panting, he didn't expect the blast to take that much out of him. He slowly got back to his feet, and couldn't see the beast anywhere. Might've done the trick. He thought to himself. He learned an important lesson when he was a merc. Unless you see the body, it ain't dead. And he certainly wouldn't get complacent now.

@Kabboom @KomradeTrappy @Unwavering Knight
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The Cykablyattest of them all!

The band of merry men continued their hurtle through the woods. As soon as they cleared the spattering of normal-sized trees surrounding the outpost, the iconic giant pine trees of the Forest of Death proved to be easier to dodge, with the space between them growing as Jericho pushed on. He could hear his Wolfhorse huff and puff under the duress, but it's doing its best. If the outpost's men don't do anything funny with their rides, then the rugged Imperial steed will recover with a few sharp breaths.

The wind whistled a shrill omen as the group darted through the thick foliage. As included in the basic training process, the Imperial guardsmen rode single file, with at least two horse lengths between each other, which was probably the only reason why no one had rammed full force into a tree yet. Good. The last thing Audaton needed was incapacitated men stranded in the Darkwoods. And he had to keep the good work up, seeing as he's riding lead. The Wolfhorse had a habit of ducking its head way below its body - a gift from the canine side of its genetics - to dodge the multitude of branches that would've hit its face otherwise. As such, Audaton had become the master of the one-handed ride: one holding the reins, the other covering his face from the branches smacking him in the face. It was one of those moments where he really regretted not buying a full plate helm.

But alas, they were here. With a screech of the hooves against the sullied dirt, the band of 20 odd men now formed a defensive round formation on the exterior of this... wall... thing. Everyone was bewildered by it, mostly because of how... jarring it looked from the outside. Jericho's guess was that the Darkmage had directed the illusion spell towards everyone inside of the ring, so it looks kinda... fragmented? disjointed? That's probably the best word.

"What now?" queried Faeven, who had slithered down from her horse, finding more comfort on her own feet- er, scales. Everyone else looked to him for the answer.

Thank the Light for anti-magic potions.

"Men, get your anti-magics out, and prepare to make a horse portal on my mark!" Jericho barked, hurriedly grabbing his own potion. A horse portal was a rectangular formation similar to a door, big enough for a rider and his horse to make it through. "Make ready, everyone. The moment we get to the other side, expect all hell to break loose. Stick to the plan, don't break off to engage single targets, and stay with your comrades, and we'll all get out of this alive." his mouth started rifling off, since he didn't want to waste Experience Drip again. He'll need every ounce of energy he can get.

Lunala spoke some inaudible prayers, huddling closer against her rider, while Erik simply readied his arrows. Clanus whispered some words of caution to Leafa, and the rest of the men double-checked their plates before reaching for their potions. The snake Incruscan, however, had a pointed question for the Guardian leader.

"This is an awful risk, Audaton. You sure you can get everyone out alive?"

"I'm sure. My Shield Aura should protect all of you."

"And if it breaks?"

A brief moment of silence befell everyone. Jericho's Wolfhorse stirred and shook its mane, before settling.

"It won't. Now get back on the horse. This'll be bumpy."

With a nod, the guardsmen ready their throwing arms. On Audaton's count, the men tossed at the shadowy wall, smashing the potions against its corporeal form. Like water meeting fire, the two substances of synthesized Light and poisonous Dark clashed brilliantly, with bright blue lights sizzling and burning through the caustic blackness of the fog, and quickly 'burned' away enough Dark to create a hole. With the residual luminescent turquoise hues still lingering at the edges of the new portal, Jericho unsheathed his shortsword, and rallied the men.

"Charge!" A deft order ran through the ranks of the 20-strong rescue team, and they charged in.

Let fate decide who lives.

The battle had taken a turn for the better. A flicker across the walls could be seen for but a split second, as the perimeter had seemingly been breached by... someone. The Dark forces were certainly on the back foot, now that their numbers were dwindling down, losing their valuable units quicker than they could inflict damage on the frontline adventurers. The Darkmage was in a tight spot, and in more ways than one.

The Warden that had been almost effortlessly battling Buras had had its spikes crushed in through its head. Certainly not a good thing for the Warden, but not a bad thing either, as though it was devastating damage, it still left the thing alive. But as if on cue, its expert swings and throws were seemingly swapped altogether with a bumbling infant's movements, as the weary eyeless sockets on the head tries and fails to maintain a stare. It had been debilitated, but perhaps only for a moment. Without some quick strikes, it might recover, and the fight will be on again.

The brutish Warden that towered over Aymeline, however, was having a better time. It currently battled the giantess, with sharper moves, and faster reactions. Twice now had the Dark spawn narrowly miss Aymeline's neck with a well-timed strike, and thrice now had the thing punctured her armor, and put varying wounds on her arm, leg, and torso. It had apparently grown a brain, too, as despite its advantageous size, it opted to deflect and dodge the furious swings of the White Warcry, and alternating between punches and cleaver swings in order to push the seasoned Guardian into the defensive.

The Darkmage, stung by both the dogged counterattacks of the oni he clung onto, and the words of the insolent newcomer Angel, was beyond angered at this point. How dare this... impudent, overzealous mutt threaten him, even suggesting to him that the concept of surrender is acceptable for a Darkmage? The oni's boasts and threats, as well as the foolish berserker who had been knocked out by his precious butterfly, were understandable, calculable from such naive warrior oafs, but the galls of this one... was the pure overconfidence he could've only dreamt of tasting from the finest of Guardians. A worthy prey, and a bountiful feast for the serpents above. A plan was concocted, and executed.

With a jab, the Darkmage stabbed through the thick nape of the oni, putting a sizeable cut in the back of its neck. Not nearly enough for a killing blow, but it should be a good enough distraction. Grabbing its horns to reel himself in, the Dark master pounced off the being with his feet, and landed on the cobblestone flawlessly. The Warden engaged with Bron simply gave him a full-front shove to the nose with the shaft of the cleaver, and that was enough to send the stampeding bull-demon back, right into a Rottapult's fireball. The projectile smashed against Bron, knocking him off balance, as well as setting him on Darkfire. Again. Bad luck, Bron.

Darting off at full speed, the Darkmage flung his staff like a spear, striking the injured wing of the sky-child. Armor creaking, he depressed his feet into the cobblestones, leaving scratch marks on the worn floor as he sprung up into the air, swinging the arm with his disc-blade to the side. In an instant, the round weapon unfurled as if it were made of fabric, and solidified as if it were steel, forming an axe. Grabbing it with two hands, the Darkmage swung the axe downward, intent on splitting the skull of this overzealous specimen with a single strike.

The Deathwarden previously occupied with Bron had ducked away when the fireball hit, quickly lowering its overall profile. With a push from its massive legs, it went off at a startling speed towards the nearest target. This target had already slain the normal Warden, who had in turn caught one of the filthy Lightborne with its cleaver. Sidestepping at the last second to clear the dead Warden from its line of attack, the super-Warden swung its cleaver upwards, slicing Taryn across the torso and flinging her backwards. As the succubus landed, the Warden swung its cleaver around and brought it down onto the frail frame, intent on slicing it into pieces.

The Beast had taken most damage so far. With its dismembered leg serving as a hindrance, and its tunnel vision pointed at the shiny knight, it didn't even notice Pat charging at it. At least, not in time to do anything about it. All it could register was a searing hot hand grabbing it by the skull, before its vision faded out of its shackled mind. The Beast had been blown to smithereens, it seemed, and everyone around it had sustained major damage.

If a Darkborne was even capable of being knocked unconscious, then the Beast would've definitely been knocked out cold. It came to within a second of losing its consciousness, however, forced by the teething grizzle of the uncouth whips that propel it forward to stay awake. It was aware of the mangled paste that lay on the floor. It was the Beast's right arm, or rather, its remaining bits and pieces. It had lost its entire left torso, along with the left portion of its skull. Its remaining eye socket was barely holding on, and was now the sole porthole for its vision. Ahead, it spotted a silhouette, recovering from the explosion.

It recognized that being. And started making its way towards it.

It was amazing, what a being could still do with just one leg and one arm. The Beast had covered the distance between itself and the target. Its clawed arm reached out, and quickly grabbed Pat by his waist. Locking its grip, the Beast then moved with the power of an exhausted buffalo, and flailed the berzerker around, smashing him into the cobblestone. It will do this. It will do this until he dies, or it dies. Only one can remain.

@Master P @ElectricPizza @Unwavering Knight @SilverFlight @KomradeTrappy @Sybil @Epiphany @ShiyaRose @OrangePerson @Soviet Panda @Malphaestus @UnbelievableCow @Slop @SCSaya06



Kaelynn had been sitting in those Dark Woods, eyes closed, sitting in her knees with her holy symbol, a circle of five dragon heads, each a different color, clasped in between her hands. She had been praying to her Goddess, essentially giving her a progress update on what she done against the Darkborne.

"I understand that currently, we are at odds with both the Dark and the Light, my Queen, but once we defeat this menace we can worry about solving this current Light God problem... I swear by it. Yes, my Queen." She nodded. Nobody else was around her. "The last thing I see myself doing is abandoning you, my Queen-" A sudden roaring and shaking in the ground disturbed her from her prayer, severing the conversation she had been having with her goddess.

"Damnit..." The Incruscan said, rising with her bladed staff in hand. Her eyes opened, Amber canine eyes scanning for the source of the disturbance. She now picked up fighting, following the sounds and, as she got closer, scents, of battle. As she reached a clearing she saw a group of adventurers fighting a Dark creature. She quickly hid her symbol in her shirt, sending a quick prayer, closing her eyes. "Lady of Chaos, I call upon your services, grant me an aspect of your elemental powers so that I may slay our opponents." Her eyes shot open, what appeared to be flame trailing her eyes and coming off her hands, her blade suddenly sparking and catching flame, the metal looking heated. She then charged into battle to help kill this beast.

@Kabboom @Master P @ElectricPizza @Unwavering Knight @SilverFlight @KomradeTrappy @Sybil @Epiphany @ShiyaRose @OrangePerson @Soviet Panda @Malphaestus @Slop @SCSaya06 @UnbelievableCow

Unwavering Knight

Fool's Errant

Momentarily, Pryonn halted in his advance, his gaze transfixed upon the frightsome sight of the mammoth Beast handling the Berserker like a tantrum-throwing child would a puppet, the ruins cracking as the monstrum smashed Pat into them over and over. Not daring to hesitate any longer, the knight threw himself into a hasty charge, lance brandished as he ran at the raging creature, unwilling to see it fulfill the deed.

Neither bluster nor boast was called as Pryonn swiftly stepped through the Beast's rampaging strikes, feeble banner-tatters fluttering behind as the knight unswervingly aimed the metal-point at the darkborne construct's sternum. And true it struck, steel-tip ramming deep into the reinforced breastbone, the iron-apex unlikely to feel as more than a needle to the mammoth figure of the Beast. Grasping the lance with both hands, Pryonn's mind took ahold of the spear's tip, a harsh force driving the pointed metal to expand in a vertical line.

Metal shrieked and bone creaked, the sternum-ossein forced into giving way to a perpendicular line, a painful wound to any other, but barely a scratch to this creature. Tearing out the spear, discarding the weapon without a second thought, Pryonn rammed both his hands into the newly-created breastbone-slit, pulling and hauling with all his might. A seemingly-impossible task, a normal human, no matter how well-trained, fed or grown, would have been able to flay apart bone that had been purpose-built to withstand the blows of giants. The Beast's entire structure, every inch of ossein, ligament and sinew had been constructed to single-mindedly serve as an unstoppable killing-machine, to serve as an insurmountable obstacle between a Darkmage and his foes.

But Pryonn too was a weapon crafted for a singular purpose, his body reforged to serve, the limitations of the human brain that imposed mental blockers upon sinews and muscles so as to avoid self-destruction via exertion had been driven out of him.

Bit by painful bit, blood running from his finger-joints as his metal-yearning mind pumped his brawn towards execrable strain, reinforced muscles struggling against darkborne ossein, the knight tore the monstrum's ribcage open, baring the creature's insides to the daylight as an onrush of blood and viscera flew in foul rivulets from the horrifying wound. Any other foe would have fallen long ago, but the Beast remained mighty and fully intent on killing the Berserker in its remaining fist.

Wasting no time, the knight did what few else would dare; diving headfirst into the monster's innards. Unseen by any and all onlookers, Pryonn let his metal-matter run wild, iron fragments, steel plates firing off from his body in all direction, his form becoming the eye of a condensed ore-storm as the Beast's internal structure was torn to shreds from within, inner wounds so monstrous and numerous that not even this unfeeling creature could weather them.

Seconds passed, the sounds emanating from the creature's hulk having turned from the tearing of wet, solid matter to the splashing of roughly-hewn pulp, bits and pieces of the miserable stuff flooding from its wounds. The knight's fist punched through the creature's back, the iron-claw taking hold of the monster's spine to haul out his gore-caked form. Leaving behind an utterly-destroyed foe, his armored body took with him pieces of the Beast's backbone as he went.

@Kabboom @Master P

Soviet Panda

Red Panda Commanda.
Buras was no fool, and so when he saw the Warden's movements become almost child like, he closed in. Like an avalanche he charged at the Warden, and lowered a shoulder to knock the thing off balance before the true assault began. As the creature was cartwheeling it's arms to keep it's balance, Buras buried one of his axes under it's arm. The next axe was lodged where neck met shoulder, though the thick collar bone of the Warden kept it from dying. Wrenching the axe that was buried underneath the things arm out, he kicks the creature in the stomach causing it to bend over. Just enough for him to lodge the axe once more into the creature, this time squarely into it's neck. But Darkborne were resilient creatures, and though the attacks were devastating indeed, the Warden continued to live. "NOW!" he shouted at the human woman that had given him this opportunity to begin with, hoping she'd be able to see what he did, the head of the axe sticking out of the creatures neck and inviting someone to assist it in completing it's journey through this creature of darkness.


Tea Connoisseur & Certified Weeabo
Ezra, the Mad Scholar
Location: Mortal Kombat Final Boss Arena

As stoically as ever did Ezra stood by the war zone; thinking to himself how the ongoing massacre has far exceeded its allowance of his time, realising that the cost of ending the incessant, mindless massacre at hand; paid hitherto in the nonexistent final breath of the Darkbourne, later in that of the Guardians. Much as it inconveniences him to do so, the scholar knew all too well the gravity of his response to the situation, and the dire consequences that would proceed the continued belittling of the nuisances which had thrown themselves onto his comrades and himself; he had not a choice but to partake in the struggle, lest a premature end would befall the temporary alliance he was accustoming himself to.

Circumstances of such nature beget the need for Ezra to unleash a proper spell; one which reflects upon the epochs-worth of experience the mad scholar houses within his cranial lobe; an effulgent, scintillating, highfalutin, grandiloquent, magnificent display of mastery over the mystical arts. Alas, spells of the nature generally require extensive preparation and time; the latter being a currency his companions and himself were so jarringly short of. A compromise had to be made, and so one was.

Much to the Guardians' good fortune, Ezra's scanning of the battlefield yielded spectacular results, and a wonderful opportunity. A hulking paragon of barbarity and mindless violence laid bare and vulnerable; ripe for exploitation and defiling. The stage was set, and the only thing standing betwixt an upcoming spell Ezra had already mentally prepared and the actual execution of it is its cumbersome and time-consuming preparation. Fortunately for the scholar, his unparalleled mastery over the arts of mysticism afforded him an abundance of leeways and compromises which generally come with little to no repercussion.

In the midst of preparing for an endgame spell and conjuring intricate, disorienting spell circles surrounding the carcass of an erstwhile monstrosity, the violent urge to maximise the allocation of his time knocked on his conscience like a throbbing headache, until he finally surrendered himself to the abandon gushing through his veins, once again jeaprodising the integrity of his internal components and mechanical stability by steroidifying the ritual spell; cleaving down its preparation time from a lengthy five minutes to a mere five seconds - burning through half of his equipped cell.

Call of the Phoenix

With the slam of his cane, yet again did Ezra's spell come to life. A beauteous phoenix of sunlight orange seemingly thrust itself out of the carcass of the beast, incinerating it into mere ashes. It spiraled its way out of said carcass and into the clouds ere erecting its massive, magisterial, glorious body and wings further upwards, looking down upon the then mere land dwellers. As hastily as the flickers of flame which like feathers, detached themselves from the mystical beast did it re-cocoon itself; wrapping under its enormous wings its etherial, viscous body to prepare itself for yet another dive - this time back down onto the ground, and the militia of Rottapaults therein; setting ablaze the ghoulish manifestations of pure vileness, and then allowing them to dissipate back to whatever void of oblivion from whence they spawned.



Kaelynn's charge had far from stopped, the flaming blade twirling as she came upon the first Rottapult, jamming her weapon into with a searing hiss of heated metal on flesh. The woman smiled at this, giving her an almost manical look as she ripped the blade out. She danced gracefully around the beast of Dark, dodging blows and fireballs from it with elegant ease, despite having forcing her to temporarily withdraw. "Come on now, don't be so firey, that's my job!" She shouted at it, rushing up and jamming the blade into it's neck, vaulting over it's back and turning the blade like a can opener, effectively decapitating it. She steadies her breath as she looks around, spotting a phoenix doing a dive on some more of them. "Who's next?" She called out with a laugh, twirling her weapon.


Tende altum, volare altius
Bron felt the blade, the pain and in reflex summoned up stone skin. Thank goodness for that because in a flash he had been smashed in the nose (again) and set on fire (...again).
The pain was becoming a slightly dulled sensation now and he found himself thinking, as he patted the fire from his burning body, anger beginning to bubble in his chest, that these damn darkborn should not be able to move so effing fast. The wardens were huge! Nothing that big had any right moving the way they did.
He huffed, looking at the ruin of his pelt, one shoulder now completely bare, showing the dulled grey skin. Blood was dripping from his nose, which had broken despite his defenses, and from the deep wound in his neck, mingling with his smoking red mane. He snorted once to clear his nostils, spattering the stones in front of him.
Enough was enough.

Bron would not be in time to stop the darkmage's strike but for all the elemental magic in the world he wanted to see this bastard die. No sooner had the mage brought his weapon upon Audun Bron made a grab for the darkmage's ankle as he descended from his aerial attack. He heaved downward with all his might, then brought the top of the double-headed axe straight over the darkmage's throat, hopefully being strong enough to pin him to the broken stone.
"Oi, bird man!" He barked at Audun. "End him!"
Then a moment's pause: "Please." He finished politely.
@Kabboom @ElectricPizza
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Master P

Gotcha bitch. the berserker thought as he surveyed the battlefield after he had recovered enough. A smirk played it's way across his face, then he felt something hook around the back of his belt. His eyes widened in disbelief as he saw the beast, in shambles and barely still a function, then he saw a blur followed by pain as it began to thrash him against the cobblestones in the road. Every slam he was stunned and hurt more. He grabbed the solid bone fingers of the thing and started yanking on them. He felt the index finger of the beast break in between slams. He heard a tearing noise and he was dropped. His disoriented form looked at what seemed to be Pryonn tearing into the beast, literally. He then heard what sounded like an industrial wood saw cutting as the beast writhed in agony and Pryonn pushed his way through the beasts ruinous body. Pat made it back to his feet, armor severely taxed and cuts, gashes, and bruises all over. His face was covered in blood from a cut that had opened from his forehead. He felt his strength return somewhat and again made it back to his feet. Pryonn emerged from the ruined beast, covered in ichor and gore, the beast was now shredded as well as blown to pieces. Pat almost felt bad, almost.

He walked over to where pryonn had exited and regarded the knight. Even though his rhyming is stupid he gets the job done. he thought to himself. Th thing was the beast was alive still. The thing refused to go back to whatever hell pit it spawned from. Pat's rage was returning, and now it was time to finish this thing. He walked over to the arm that was still attached, he regarded Pryonn, realizing he would have to at least put on a display of his own in order to keep up with the knight. He grabbed the beasts claw, and with his vice like grip began to pull at it. At first nothing seemed to happen, but Pat felt the arm begin to give. The beasts unnerving cries of agony filled the air now, no doubt calling to its allies for help. "Come on, Scream for me!" he said as he revelled in the sadism, feeling the muscles tear and rip as he pulled is gigantic arm with herculean strength.He felt the arm give way completely as he held it aloft, which was no easy feat, the arm must have been solid, unnatural bone that the darkborne seemed to posses. after watching the beast struggle in its final pitiful moments he brought the clawed hand, now a fist, down, and down, and down... until all that was left was a bloody pulp of skull staining the Stone road.

@Kabboom @Unwavering Knight


skinny legend

The clash of colors left the elven child mesmerized, a mix of blue and turqouise lights shined through the deep black fog and revealed the entrance to... to the "very bad and dangerous place" as Clanus had called it. The young elf did not enjoy being left out, whenever she asked about the matter, she would either get ignored, or get told to scram. It left her furious, but their words, or lack of, meant nothing to her. Her mind had been made up, she was going to help, whether they liked it or not.


The very second she entered the "very bad an dangerous place" she understood why Clanus gave it that name. The freezing air hit her exposed arms and legs like a knife, and the general eerie vibe sent shivers down her spine. She had very little time to react however, not long after their arrival, they found themselves on the battlefield. "AAA!" Her sensitive ears immediately reacted to the loud screams that came from every direction. The urge to cover her ears was too big for her to handle, she couldn't help but to let go of Clanus' waist and cover them. To stop herself from falling off the wolfhorse, she wrapped her legs around his waist, and put the rest of her strengths into keeping her body straight.

Inside her head only pain resided, the pain in her ears grew by the second, and from there a headache hatched. Her eyes were shut tight and her hands pressed against her ears, she could only see pitch black. But in the middle of all the pain, she could hear something... a faded voice. A weak voice, almost impossible to hear, like the voice of thought. "To... where?" Her headache and earache made her unable to concentrate, the simple questions of "who are you?" or "why do you ask?" never ocurred to her. She simply thought of where she wanted to be most, above all else. "Home..."

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Phos SpessartiteLocation: Ruins
The living rock formation had no plan. No course of action. She had a payload, and enemies with only one real idea on how to deliver it, and even she didn't like the odds. This lack of a plan failed her, as soon the bulk of the enemy forces were swarmed by allies and being taken down, ultimately keeping her from enacting any of her ideas save for the one dealing with the rounded up living catapults. She may be dumb, but despite the minerals occupying where a brain should be, she was not braindead enough to throw the dynamite anywhere near the main action. Just slow on an action that takes more thought than punching something and with no direction given to her.

Thankfully? She knew how to punch, and that was all she needed as she charged towards the mangled dark flesh horror that expelled the pungent balls of flames. She jumped through the suppressing fire of her allies' Pheonix, her body shifting the dynamite inside her into her fist. It was not hard to hit the mouth of the creature, the gaping maw proving to be an easy target as she got in its face of a normally long range creature, plunging their solid rock fist into their gullet and extending the length of her arm. Once she plunged it deep? The hand would have the end of the fuse come just to the surface of her palm, and with flint moving to her middle finger and in her palm, she snapped her fingers. After that it was just the act of tearing her own arm off using the monster's teeth before she ran away, letting the explosive deal with the monster that she knew had some sort of ignitable fluid in it. That would be messy and she wanted nothing of it.

Interactions@Kabboom @KomradeTrappy


Not Quiznos

Audun the Fallen

Location: Ridge
Status: Considerably Injured/Broken Wing/Very Angry/Burnt

Disposition: Slightly Evil
Interacting With: @SilverFlight

The Darkmage's staff stuck his wing, shearing off a good chunk of its feathers, grazing already broken limb that held them. Wincing, he looked up to the Darkmage's aerial strike with the axe of his. The Nephilim began to bring his sword up to parry the blow. To his surprise...and annoyance, a horned demon grabbed the Darkmage by the ankle and threw him to the ground and held the figure down with their own axe.

"Oi, bird man! End him! ...Please."

Audun grunted at the demon's words. He wasn't one to take orders from an Infernal, but this was combat...and he had asked nicely. Who would've imagined that a demon was capable of such as feat? He gripped his black and red greatsword in his right hand and brought it up and swung down a mighty blow on the mage's legs, cracking the armor that bound them. Audun swung again, this time meeting flesh, causing black blood to seep form the Darkmage's wounds. A third strike and the legs were severed from the mage's body. With twisted scowl underneath his helmet, he drove the two swords he held into the shoulders of the mage, one at a time, exercising the bare minimum of care to avoid striking Bron.

With the mage crippled and pinned, Audun let the Darkness flow through his right arm, causing black chitin and bone shoot out of his flesh, breaking off the armor that bound his limb. As the shards of the dented plate and patches of chain fell to the ground, tendrils of Darkness shot out from his shoulders and began to wrap around his arm. The end result was a clawed arm bound in bone plates and Dark muscle. The Nephilim clenched his fist together, raising it and bringing it down on on the Darkmage's head hard enough to crush as normal skull, but this was no normal bone. It took two more moderately powerful strikes to break the bone and squish whatever the skull protected, given that the Darkness didn't consume their entire mind just yet.

Of course, when the wisps of life the Darkmage held were snuffed out, there was retribution. The moment the skull caved in, the entire body burst into flames and exploded in a brilliant flash of fire. The tongues of flame lashed out at Audun and Bron given their proximity to the mage. The Nephilim himself was engulfed in flames, his armor protecting him from the initial heat, but soon enough turning into a walking oven, conducting the heat of the fire and making the experience extremely unpleasant to say the very least. With the newfound heat, Audun began to thrash about, trying to find some way to relieve himself from the hot metal armor that covered him, ultimately having to wait until the air whisked the heat away.


The Warden continued to resist as Buras failed to end the miserable fiend in its attacks, leaving Maria in her struggle as the human held onto the Darkborne's neck in its enraged movements in obviously much difficulty. However, the Inuin did provide an opportunity, an axe lodged square in the neck of the Warden, and that was one opportunity the Guardian was not going to let go. After much preparation and patience for a steady moment in the Warden's raging, Maria made a leap, with the aid of her powers, to land on top of the Darkborne's distasteful 'head', leaving her pole-arm stuck in the Darkborne's nape. From there, she primed to put the prolonged fight to a swift end. Preparing herself for one last time, Maria kneeled, aiming her target, and dropped from the head of the Darkborne right in front of it. The girl swiftly channeled her powers as soon as she left the creature's head, and when her hands caught the Inuin's axe on the drop, Maria felt the thing tearing off the Warden's darkly, rotten flesh and the blade sinking a bit deeper into the Darkborne. Before long, her powers shown its effect on the enormous axe, as the weapon dropped onto the floor with Maria, its blade tearing the Warden from its neck to the pelvis, almost splitting it in half, and a nasty dark goo oozes out of the terrible cut.

Still, the Darkborne remained standing. "Tough bastards...", she swore, though soon enough, it began to falter, then losing its balance completely and fell forward, landing flat on its face. Maria let go of the enormous axe, before hopping onto the Warden's rear and moved to recover her weapon, still stuck in its nape as the corpse began to disintegrate into ominous, darkly sprites. She gave a tired chuckle to the Inuin, signalling a compliment, for a job well done, though Maria doubted she could afford using any more of her powers today.

@Soviet Panda

>Last(?) Warden finished off.


The Cykablyattest of them all!
With a sickening crunch, the Darkmage was vanquished. His hubris and over-aggression led to his fall in the end. His final parting gift, a bursting gust of Darkfire engulfing the oni and the Angel, seemed to crackle with the last anguished howls of the fallen one, thrashing infinitely into the void of oblivion. The battle had been swayed now; the last of the Wardens annihilated, the Beast and its Master both dead, and the Rottapults on their last legs. The whirling flame of a phoenix, along with the powerful dynamite explosion emanating from one of the Rottapults, have slain all but one of the hideous fireball-lobbing beasts in a spectacular chain reaction. With exception of the sole survivor who stayed far enough from its kin, the Rottapults were engulfed by the blast, internally combusting in a mist of darkened gore. Singled out, the enraged and burning Rottapult makes a frontal charge towards the abrupt newcomer, Kaelynn.

Other than that, the battle was decided. The Ruins are cleared. From now, it's all smooth sailing and cool looting. Except for one thing, though.

From the mashed and gutted corpse of the Beast, a paradoxically bright dark light shone out to Pryonn and Pat. A similar reality-defying light also shot out of the Darkmage's exposed skull, almost poking directly into the heads of the two brawling brutes near his corpse. What transpired was not a desperate last-ditch attack intent on dealing damage, but something that many Imperial scholars believed to be the Dark's attempt at directly sabotaging the Empire's finest warriors who dare to go against Darkmages. Letting their killers know the human side of the Darkmages have proven to be detrimental to morale, and is one of the leading factors behind why most Darkmages are killed at range.

Her father hasn't come back. Why isn't he back?

Renee coughed profusely as she hid behind the stage. Her father managed to sneak her in here through the backdoor, despite her worsening ailment. Someone might find the trail of dark-ish blood she left behind... Not good, not good at all. Where was her father? He promised to be back right away, he promised...

It was only a few months after her unfortunate misstep in the forest. Her friends had dared her to go far, and although Renee did win the dare, she cut herself on one of the sharp bushes. From then on, she hadn't felt so well in ages. It started as just a small itch, near the wound that healed up weirdly fast. Renee didn't feel anything other than that for a few weeks, although her father had been frantic. Every day, there would be a new stranger showing up to take a look at Renee. She felt like something was definitely wrong, but whenever she asked about it, Mom and Dad wouldn't ever tell her, and assured her everything was fine. Mom and Dad started arguing too, late at night. Renee stayed up to eavesdrop on them, and though she didn't hear much through the door, she knew it was about her. Mom was very upset with Dad. But why?

It got worse just this week. Disgusting blisters popped up on her arm! She started coughing too, that horrible irritating itch in her throat that never goes away no matter how much she coughs! Renee didn't feel so well. Her friends stopped seeing her after that, and the other grownups didn't like her either. Some of them even yelled at Mom and Dad late at night! Why would they do such things? She was just sick, wasn't she? Dad was becoming really frustrated and, he seemed sad. But, he keeps telling her that he's figured out a way to cure her, why is he sad?

Renee could hear the commotion coming from the stage. The villagers are preparing for the annual celebration of a good harvest. People keep saying that they were living in a harsh place, being on the frontier, but Renee doesn't see the danger? There's nothing here, except for the random forest dogs and occasional loose Wolfhorse. And if it really was that dangerous, why would they still live here? Dad would definitely have moved the family. He loves his family... Where was he?

She was so deep in thought, that she didn't even notice the snake creeping up on her. That dark, shiny snake without eyes.

She noticed it a bit too late, and it had bitten into her flesh. Its fangs punctured her frail childish skin, and soon, more joined in. Almost instantaneously, one serpent became many, and many became many more. Their bites mounted up in numbers, making her feel numb all over. Renee tried to scream, but to her shock and surprise, nothing came out of her mouth. Nothing at all. The numbing feeling across her body was becoming more powerful now, and she felt as if she could levitate. She tried to scream harder, straining her vocal cords and opening her mouth even wider, but no scream would come out. She could no longer feel the ground beneath her feet, or the air that she was breathing in. She could feel... nothing at all.

Why was this happening to her? Oh Lord of Light, why was this happening to her? She couldn't take this anymore. With some effort, she raised her heavy hands up, and opened the curtains to the stage. Everyone else could help her, they have to, right? She reached out to the nearest person she could find, uncle Raleph. He was performing a song for the harvest, and was busy playing the guitar before she came out. Renee grabbed Raleph, trying to ask him for help, but he was petrified. Why was he looking her like that, so afraid? She took one further step, and the stage collapsed.

Everyone started screaming, and started running around inside the stageroom. Renee stood up, but couldn't find Raleph anywhere. Didn't she fall onto him? Where did he go? Uncle? Father? Anyone? Please, help her! She can't scream or talk, and she can't feel anything! Please! Someone! Anyone! Help me! Is this a nightmare? Why can't I wake up? Mommy? Mommy, is that you? Stop screaming, why are you scared, I'm scared too! I'm scared mother, please don't run away, don't run away!

Everyone ran away from her in fear. She grabbed them, tried asking them for help, but after a while, they just wouldn't answer. They didn't even look at her after she grabbed them. Like they fell asleep. Why won't they wake up? She was so scared. Renee tried the village chief, as he was the last one she hasn't asked for help yet. He'd ran back into his house, and Renee went after him. The door felt so light when she opened it, but her arms felt so heavy. She tried to plead the village chief for help, but he wouldn't. He fired off a gunshot at her, right in the head. She felt so much pain, and thrashed around so much that she didn't know what came next.

But when she awoke, she could see her father again. Her sole comfort in the world. He looked so... different, but his voice was the same as she'd remembered. "Rise, my child. You are safe now." She knew she could trust in her father. Always. Renee knew he'd come back for her. He'd found out a way. He always did.

Curse it all.

His precious Renee was hurt. Denelik blamed himself for all of this, all of it. Ever since his precious daughter had scratched herself on the forest bushes, her Dark corruption grew further and further. It took him all of his concentration and sanity to keep it a secret from the rest of the village. Even his wife Movi was becoming increasingly erratic, insisting him to seek the village chief's guidance, but Denelik's word was final. They were not going to lose their dear Renee. Their only Renee.

The night when their daughter's ailment worsened was also when Denelik came into possession of a curious black egg. A pondrous thing that doesn't even crack on impact, yet feels light as a feather. Somehow, Denelik felt compelled to hide it, and keep it. He thought it might become of use one day. Denelik had sought out the Imperial mages and scholars nearby, all well-versed in the curing arts of the Light. They came at night, discreetly checking his daughter for ways to cure her. But blast them! Ryzhov, Mouten, Evans, and even Salazar, blast them all! Useless, every one of them. None of them could cure her.

"A pity." spoke the egg, on one dreary night. It was the annual celebration of the bountiful harvest, as is tradition in this frontier village. Denelik had sworn that he would do his father proud and explore the frontiers of the wild, and triumphing over the darkness, but now that his own daughter was at stake, he couldn't care less for the damn celebrations. He stirred from his desperate sleep, and conversed with it.

"You speak?" Denelik whispered to the egg.
"Why wouldn't I? Your daughter is sick." said the... egg.
"This... you, you're a Darkspawn! Vile being!" Denelik panicked, throwing it on the floor and taking a few steps back. He was only half-hearted, though. Whatever this... thing had to say, maybe... maybe it could cure his daughter. His beloved Renee.
"Whatever will you do now? Alert the village chief? Alert them to our presence? And lose the only chance for you to save your Renee?" the egg chorused his thoughts, in a tantalizing manner. Denelik could no longer stop himself from his emotions.
"...You can? No, you can't! Even the mages couldn't save her! Foul being, playing tricks!" Denelik resisted weakly. He felt his head flowing lightly, flying higher by the second.
"The rotten amateurs had no power in the first place. Do as I tell you, and your Renee will become strong."

That was enough to turn Denelik over.

He persuaded Movi to go to the celebrations, as per the egg's instructions. She went with minimal resistance, taking solace in the brief release of celebration. He led Renee into the stageroom through the back door, and put the egg down. His poor daughter looked so confused and lost in thought, Denelik doubted if she could even see him. "Now, put me down." commanded the egg. He complied without a pause.

Quickly, the egg hatched, or rather, transformed into a serpent, sleek black in exterior and completely eyeless. It slowly slithered up to his poor daughter, and bit in. The snake multiplied greatly in number, dividing into many more serpents in the span of but a second. A frantic frenzy of biting ensued on his daughter, but Denelik was not worried. The egg had warned him of how painful it might look, but it will bring his daughter back. They will be together again, whole.

But horror ran across his face as Renee's deformed hideously. Her jaw elongated and opened wide, emitting an earpiercing shriek of pain. Her feeble and frail limbs, festered with sores and bite wounds, begun convulsing greatly, with the blisters spewing ochre fluids, that soon solidified into skeins of muscle and sinew, engorging themselves around the frail frame of their host. Denelik watched in terror as his daughter's body lost all resemblance to the Renee he raised and loved, with a grotesque muscular form and a gaping maw adorning its now skull-like features.

"What have you done?!" Denelik barked in terror, as the millions of serpents now stared him down. Their chittering and hissing have drowned out even his monstrosity of a daughter's howls, and they enveloped him.
"You did your duty, as we did ours. Now... become one." The chorus of a billion throats cried out, and Denelik felt... pain. Searing pain shot through his entire body, the likes of which he'd never even imagined possible. His eyes blacked out, and in its stead, he saw only one vision. The skies, covered with ash and muck. The winds, lacerating his flesh with their sharp coldness, turning red with every turn of the draft, drawing his crimson red blood and weaving them among the winds, painting a bloodshot painting across the bleak canvas of the world. And above it all, hovering amidst the heaven or hell he'd found himself in, were the serpents. The serpents above knew all. Slither, slither... Denelik could feel them crawling across his skin, feel them tasting the blood drawn in the air, feel their freshborn eggspawn curdle up behind his eyes, feel them slither in his ears until he could no longer hear anything but the chittering of their scales. The serpents above knew all. They were all. They were him, and he was now them.

His corporeal eyes awoke to the vertical slits of ivory bone, and he could feel the last of the slithering serpents shift into place, and solidify themselves as his armor. As one. They walked across the broken and shattered stage room, with more serpents hatching from the bodies of the weakling villagers, slithering to his aid and becoming not only his boneclad suit of armor, but his own flesh and blood. They became... him.

As he found the exit, he stepped upon a familiar pile of mush. Movi, wasn't it? A pity she could not become one with them. Or could she? With ferocity, they ripped her bones apart, joint by joint at times. Together formed, their wife was now one of them too, a long serpent staff, capable of channeling great magic through it. As they were admiring their new brother, a gunshot rang off. The village chief's desperate last stand.

Their dear daughter, Renee, thrashed in the pain of her newly formed flesh and marrow, with a sizeable mark put inbetween her temples as a mark of the village chief's aim. How dare the impudent fool sully her looks? With one look at the ragged and defeated chief, there was only one spell suitable for the occasion. Darkfire.

As the flailing and ringing cries of the smoldering chieftain echoed through the now harrowed night, they could now wake up their daughter. "Rise, my child. You are safe now." And they were safe. This was their home. None shall hurt Renee anymore. They are, become one.

Meanwhile, Jericho's charge had come to an anticlimactic halt. A few of the guardsmen who remembered to bring a flintlock or two had fired off a hasty shot, but other than that, with one glance, the situation seemed under control. That was a waste of time and effort, but a waste of time is better than a waste of life. The horses quickly spurred down, while Jericho quickly leapt off his horse and ran towards the Darkmage's corpse. His Clarity skill activated soon enough, engulfing the two figures in a calming aura to spare them from the panic attack that comes after a Darkmage's memory release. Pryonn and Pat weren't so lucky.

@Master P @ElectricPizza @Unwavering Knight @SilverFlight @KomradeTrappy @Sybil @Epiphany @ShiyaRose @OrangePerson @Soviet Panda @UnbelievableCow @Slop @SCSaya06


Tende altum, volare altius
Bron watched as Audun took the killing blow, obliterating the mage's head with one swift crunch. He wasn't getting up from that. The wave of flame nearly caught Bron off guard again, but he had expected a violent reaction, when that much dark energy was released from its physical shell. The fire seared him through his stone skin and he summoned the sand from under his feet to coat the flames and blot them out. He offered to help put out the flames on Audun's body, but could not do much for the heat. The light that sprung up from the darkmage's corpse made him leap back in surprise, the new burns on his body screaming their protest, splitting skin and sending fresh rivulets of blood down his arms and torso, matting into the remnants of his fur. Bron had no time to react however before the memories engulfed him.
Even with the Clarity spell, Bron gritted his teeth against the waves of emotion that forced their way into his mind. He saw everything. Felt everything. The memories ran their course and Bron was powerless to stop it. When the visions finally released him he was on one knee, staring at the broken ground under his palm. Breathing hard. Regaining himself, he focused on that; the earth, cool and smooth. The pain. There was that too, and soon that occupied most of his thought. Carefully he sat down, trying to steady his breathing, raising his muzzle to the sky before looking around at the survivors of the battle. He didn't bother shifting back. Everything hurt. His allies could deal with him being an oni this once.
It was a simple word, but he thought it would be relatable in the given circumstance. It was only after a moment's pause, where all he could hear was the sound of his own breath, that his eyes fell upon the man he had followed up the hill to this bloody battle in the first place.
"Salazar. You knew this poor sod." It was not a question.
@Kabboom @ElectricPizza @a healer maybe



Kaelynn did a graceful dance around her new enemy, surveying the battefield as a fireball flew past. "Just you? Well this was not fun!" She mock complained, slashing at the Rottapult with her flaming blade, causing it to... Scream? Some sort of pained noise. She kept toying with it, knowing people were watching, and she took the moments to look over them. There were a good few, by her count, and once she had got enough about the new people from looking at them, she did a low roll and stabbed her blade right thriugh the throat of the beast, silencing it for good. She slowly rose, the flaming woman turning to face the newcomers, panting. She smiled and walked closer. "Could you guys have been any louder? I was meditating!" We're here first words to the others. It was a lie, but then again most would think the fact she was praying to some other god was a lie, and probably smite her for it.

Soviet Panda

Red Panda Commanda.
The battle was finished. The Death Warden that had tried, and almost succeeded, in taking his life lay turning into a vile pool of ichor with the rottapults doing much the same. When the human woman, Maria if he remembered right, spoke, all he could really do was huff in agreement. The fighting had taken a lot out of him. He had lost a lot of blood, sustained rather serious wounds, and what minor healing he had gotten previously had drained him even more. He was tired, so tired, but he had to keep going, at least until he reached the stronghold. Two steps, that is all the further he made it before collapsing and falling face first into the dirt, the trenches that the dark wolves had left when he ripped them off on display and no doubt the major cause for his exhaustion. He was still awake, and even begun to claw his way back onto his feet, but it was obviously a struggle for the large Inuin. And quite frankly, Buras would be all to eager to set aside his pride for help if it was offered.


skinny legend

"Home... Home..." As the noise had begun to subside and her earache lightly faded away, the vague image of home became more detailed as she regained her focus. Basic shapes became buildings, stick figures became joyful elf people, colorful spots became beautiful flowers... and the bright sunshine illuminated the entire village. "I miss home... the sun, the insects, ah..." Lost in her thoughts, she became unaware of her surroundings and unconsciously softened her legs, action that resulted on the abrupt ending of her happy moment, as she slipped off the still moving wolfhorse, and fell on her butt.

"Ouch!" The sudden fall snapped her back to reality, looking around her surroundings, it became clear to her that the battle had finished. In the middle of the crowd, she spotted a familiar face. "My butt- Rock Lady!" Excitedly, she got up and ran towards the rock made woman, but in typical Leafa fashion, another fall-inducing obstacle stood in her path, the enemy: medium-sized tree branch. And once again, in typical Leafa fashion, she lost the battle, and fell. "Oww!" "It hurts... I- huh? Was that a groan? It came from that direction... that... man? He can't get up... I could help, ooor I could have fun with this- uh, where did the squirrel go? ...ahem, Leafa to the rescue!"

"Hi! Are you hurt? Ooo! I want to be like that! How did you get that skin? It's really pretty!"

@Soviet Panda @Sybil


As the battle wrapped up, Maria allowed herself a moment of respite, and walked over to the defeated Darkmage as its body began to disintegrate into darkish ash-like dust and sprites, even his staff did so, as if itself a construct of Dark matters and energy. Nearby, their 'guests' - members of Salazar's party also gathered themselves and began to slowly lowering their arms as all foes in sight had been eliminated, keeping a watchful eye out to watch each others' back in the process. The Guardian approached their collapsing corpse of the Darkmage as the dust and sprites were blown apart by a calm breeze, to reveal a metallic object of some kind among the pile of remains. As Maria carefully brushed aside the cold dark remains and pulled out the peculiar trinket, it was revealed to be a brass cuff of some kind, with intricate, seemingly decorative texture along its surface, as well as some glyphs and a single finely-cut ruby on one side. The Guardian pocketed the item, and intended to give it a closer look some time in the future.

As she waited for the rest of her company and strolled around the perimeter of the site to keep watch, Maria noticed a stranger near a lifeless, disintegrating Rottapult, who was slowly making their way towards her and the others. She gave a whistle to alert others, and stood with her arm at the ready, and waited for them to make a move.

"Could you guys have been any louder? I was meditating!" - The stranger spoke up. As they approached, Maria noticed the flame-like matter coating this figure's appearance and their present blade, as well as features of an Incruscan. Somehow, we keep attracting strangers these days. The Guardian spoke up.

"First, identify yourself. Secondly, that is one curious choice of location for meditation. Do you live in this place?"

Interacting: @LoneSniper87
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Wow, took them long enough to notice her... However they were licking their wounds, she guessed. Her ears perked as a woman spoke to her, and her fiery eyes locked with those of the speaker. "Live here?" She asked increduously with another laugh. "No, that'd be suicidal. I was stopping here. Also..." She paused, eyeing her again. "You haven't heard of me? I would be hurt, but I can only assume you're new or not much for stories." The flames dropped from her blade and features, and she smiled softly. "Kaelynn Sinaran, Guardian, healer, fighter... You get the jist." She said to her. the red dragon head of her necklace poking out from her shirt.

"How about yourself? And you are~?" She asked.

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Maria slightly tilted her head as she listened to the newcomer's somewhat conceited introduction. The grip on her weapon relaxed, but still at the ready, should the Incruscan pull something suspicious. Eventually, the guardian voiced her reply to the stranger's query.

"Indeed, I have never heard of your titles. It seems whatever you've accomplished was deemed not that noteworthy, or simply had not reached Pyphorus. But again, it's not like I keep much attention on... others' business." Keeping watchful eyes on Kaelynn as she waited patiently for others to address the Incruscan, Maria continued. "I'm Maria of Drakenfort, daughter of the Drake King Aurellio Theodosiel, Guardian and, of course, a foreigner in this land." The Incruscan claimed itself to be a Guardian, but Maria couldn't afford to be so naive to simply take its word for it. She retrieved the badge from one of the pockets on her waist, and presented it before the newcomer. "What business have you around these parts?"

Interacting: @LoneSniper87 + Anyone within the vicinity
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