Pandemonium Those Beyond

[Baise]

Eretejva_pandemonium

The melting snow and mud clung to his clothes as he pulled himself up to his feet. At first he was surprised to find his shield and shield arm were still in tact. The beast had casually swatted him away. It reared up and threatened to break through the line. Before it could break through - and probably tear through him a moment later - the wolf that had come with the stranger darted in, snapping, snarling and drawing its attention.

Valthar put his axe to his belt. He felt unsteady on his feet but he rushed to intercept the woman rushing up with a bundle of spears. They were hunting spears. Shorter than he would have liked, but with two wings behind the blade to stop a furious beast from working up the spear to gore the hunter.

Turning as he heard a scream he saw a shower of blood spray a crimson arc across the criso, white snow. Swain was down, most of his neck and face taken away with a single swipe.

Valthar felt the shadow reach out to encapsulate him within its chill as the svalen reared up. There was no point running now. Shouting in defiance, he put all his strength behind the spear. The tip sank deep into the svalen's chest.

Valthar's arm trembled as its full weight was pressed through the shaft. He shield tumbled to the ground as he stubbornly held on with both hands. The svalen snarled and snapped at the air and Valthar screamed back. His feet started to slide through the snow, the shaft of the spear started to bow and creak.

 

[Sigrith]

She'd been part of that semi-circle, broken by the wayward swing of a spiked and clawed arm. Unlike her Faarin cousins, Sigrith did not wear plate armor, an a talon cleaved cleanly through the leather cuirass round her chest, slicing deep to the bone across her ribs. The witch flew backwards with the rest of them, tumbling through the snow to land in a bloody heap not far from Luna Slateforge and her own wounds.

This ... this was not good. Vand may have succeeded in taking on an one of these beasts in Withereach, but he'd had Doggrave there to help him. The Tusks were useful in that way - one would have been exceptionally useful now. Sigrith didn't think Faarin had any allied to their people at present, but if they all survived this perhaps that would change under the rule of the new Queen.

With a grunt she pushed herself to sit up from the snow, a hand moving to her middle where warm crimson slowly pooled. Roiling clouds of ragged breaths filtered from her lips as she watched San move in to distract the creature while the others regrouped. Even despite their numbers they were vastly outclassed by the shere size of the thing, and spears weren't going to take its head off.

The witch's eyes fell upon her longsword settled in the snow between herself and Luna, then swept around the battlefield looking for high ground. She found it in the form of a large rise of stone and slowly pushed herself to her feet. Careful steps brought her over to the stranger where she lay, a hand snaking in to check the pulse at her neck. Still alive. Sigi leaned to grab a handful of fresh powder and pressed it into her leg wound.

"Pack your wounds with snow," Sigi said to the woman, "I'll see that you're looked after when this is through."

The words may have sounded confident, but her expression didn't look it. Without another word, she turned, reclaimed her sword, and began to climb. From there she could see Valthar taking up a spear and, with some luck, he was drawing the svalen this way. As she neared the top, cold winds snatching at her hair and pelts, she watched and waited while the beast found itself impaled upon the young Norden's weapon.

Fingers gripping the hilt of her sword, she began to draw in deep, quick breaths, forcing air into her lungs and blood into her heart. Pumping adrenaline against the fear and the growing pain of her side. This wasn't a witch technique, it belonged to the shield maidens, and she was grateful for her upbringing in this moment.

As the creature drew down upon Valthar, Sigrith pulled in a great gulp of air, took a readying step back, and then launched herself into the air, sword held high over her head.

She flew. She roared. She swung her blade down into her fall.

Cleaving right into the svalen's exposed neck.

 

[Weylin Kyrel]

Something was wrong. Since before he had even woken while darkness was still lingering around he could feel that something was off. An unnatural thing. An invasive thing. The trees and animals whispered the same. They were scared. Even those not of the old folk should be able to hear it. Weylin normally would have left his camp to hunt or scout out the area then return once light had to spend some time training with his sword once more. A habit he had picked back up due to some unpleasant recent events. This morning he had done none of that. Instead he got himself ready. Ready the way his father had shown him how to those years when they waited for the orc raid on their area.

It was difficult for Weylin to say how long he had been just sitting there looking off towards the direction he felt the sickness coming from. Normally he would be covered more by fur, dirt, and leaves to blend in with the wilds. Today he actually looked like a militia man or low budget fighter. His quiver and father's sword were on his hip along with his hatchet and knife. His bow was in hand along with a very basic spear he had been working on lately. The spear was really more of a sharpened stick. Even so it looked out of place with the hunter who normally favored his hand axe and bow.

After Angela came hustling out of her tent calling for him, the two still hadn't given each other their names, Weylin just said in a weirdly calm voice even to him, "Here. You feel it too. Get ready. I don't think we will enjoy this."

White had sensed what her human had too and was as eerily calm as him. She just stayed quiet and never let her attention drift from the direction the wrongness came from. She was by Weylin's side and just enjoyed the idle pets as the two waited for the strange female and her far more competent companion.

Mabess Hath Charosh Rice

 

[Madame Valkery]

As everything erupted into chaos Valkery didn't even seem to flinch, she took in everything all at once her mind going into military mode. Demons attacked the outside of the circle, one for each mercenary. She could feel fear overcoming the mercenaries as their ranks began to falter.

"Steady men! Stand together, use your shields as a wall. Protect your fellow man. You are stronger when you stand together!" She called out and the line tightened as the men rallied behind her command, their moral rising.

The wizard was attacked and he seemed to snap, completely demolishing the demon that had harmed his familiar. The familiar seemed a bit worse for wear, blood spreading from a gash in its back but it was still able to stand. Without moving or even giving any sign that she was doing it she reached out with her magic and bosted the dogs own healing, slowing the bleeding so that it at least would not get any worse.

The redhead bard was attacked but the troll, surprisingly saved her, and he seemed to have a self-healing factor, perhaps it would be better to let the troll take out as many demons as it could, for now, they were in no shape to deal with a troll and the demons at the moment.

The conflict between Misty and the group of mages was going badly then suddenly the leader of the demons showed up and ripped out the heart out of the book worm mage. He looked Trajan head on and threw the heart into the center of the circle. It landed near Valkery, she didn't even flinch. She could still feel it beating weakly before going cold and still. She absorbed the aura from the lasts moments of life that the mage had left behind on the heart. She looked at the leader demon, her gaze unwavering. A small smile crept across her face. She tried to get a sense of what the demon was like, what it's weaknesses were, but these creatures were head to read. Then a warrior in full armor came charging in flinging a flail and attacking the head demon. Good, a distraction.

looking at the carnage of the two dead demons these creatures seemed to be made of a type of thick black blood but had organs muscles and flesh similar to a humanoid. She focused on their leader and using the aura she had colected from the heart she steadily began to lower its body temperature. Let's see if these things have any sort of resistance to cold. She thought.

 

[Hath Charosh]

Spine_pandemonium

The mists made it difficult to keep his concentration. Every direction looked the same and it was difficult to hone in on sounds. Mabess had chosen a direction and set off. Hath ran after the group as quickly as he could with his bow in his left hand and arrow in the right.

Mabess had chosen correctly. Hath skidded to a halt as a shadow appeared above him in the mists. It wasn't a wyvern or any form of airborne monster. The bloodied form of an orc landed next to him and went tumbling into the mist.

Hath took a moment to gather himself and ran on. He leapt over the body of one of the tribes mounts and found himself in the heart of chaos. Some of the silhouettes took form.

Misshapen brutes with silver-gray skin had formed a swirling melee with the orcs. No two looked quite the same but they were all larger than ogres. Hath picked one that was attacking several orcs who were now on foot. Its height gave him a clear shot. Hath drew and released in one smooth motion. The arrow thudded home, red and black fletchings protruding from the monster's shoulder. Hath reached for another arrow.

 

[Kalianna Romane]

It was, to put it lightly, chaos.

Everything seemed to lunge forth with a sudden bloodlust and violence, cracking the almost palpable tension which surrounded the group as much as the red mist they had ventured within, which Kali was continually reconsidering the sanity of. Mitsy attacked first; a stream of blue flames surging forth as she moved to strike the elven mage. A quick succession of activities followed suite, as the familiar hum and glow of magic permeated the area.

Taking a deep breath, Kali took one look towards the colliding members, creating a clang of metal from her weapons. Her voice flavored with auditory illusions to make it resonate across the area, she commanded, "Stop your fighting and open your eyes. There are more important enemies to be fought in the mist." She jerked her head behind her, at the prowling demons. Her voice seemed to echo, as though they were within a large cavern, seeming to be projected beyond natural possibilities. With a thought, the illusion subsided, her voice returning to its normally perceived volume.

As if to add insult to injury, the demons who were previously content to stalk them the way they came suddenly surged toward the mercenaries with newfound resolve. A few of the Band of Idiots had the right idea, fending off the demons to the best of their ability. She did not fail to notice the surprising display of ferocity from Faurosk, darkened blood smattered across his face and blade. The troll, Abriax, confirmed his position as their ally, at least temporarily, by aiding Rainie.

Nothing was attacking her and the unnamed woman within the center of the circle, which was a welcome notion. However, that safety wouldn't last, especially if the demons kept up their attack like this. She briefly considered the possibility of darting outside of the defensive circle's safety to tangle with the demons and provide some assistance to her fellow Band of Idiot Members, but the thought was cut short by a sudden scream.

Her eyes darted towards the noise in an attempt to discern its cause, when sure enough, she saw it. A hand plunged into the chest of the Bookworm, grasping a still beating, gory heart. Without any percievable amount of concern or care, the being tossed it into the party's center. All the while, its eyes were focused on Trajan, flaring menacingly. She took a step back, watching the demon with a cautious gaze. Her eyes shifted over to Trajan, taking in his appearance and posture. Quickly, she crafted an identical illusion to him, standing right where he is. If she was quick enough, she could hopefully make an attack towards Trajan end up aiming for an illusion. If.

Elbion_pandemonium

 

[Himitsu]

The concussive force of the quarterstaff sent Mitsy stumbling backwards, shaking her head to try and brush off the effects of… well. Booze, mists, and blowing-up-staffs, all of which were doing a number to make the world sort of pitch a doozy around her. Just as she’d given her head a good smack or two to clear the ringing in her ears that she was pretty sure wasn’t from the booze, suddenly the ground underneath her was shifting, mud sliding up to pile along her boots and crawling further up her legs.

A low snarl slid from her throat as she began to kick at the mud and jerk her legs out of the growing pile, though it rapidly slid up to nearly her hips. Her golden eyes slid to the elf and his chanting, the promise of violence bright in those orbs as she sucked in a breath to shoot a charm at him -- magic didn’t seem to be working entirely right in these blasted mists, but as long as it interrupted his concentration it’d do the trick.

Except, it wasn’t necessary, because a second later, his companion’s heart was no longer in his chest cavity.

Mitsy stared at the demon as it unfurled itself, feeling every nerve in her body squirm in utter revulsion. She’d grown up in the depths of the great forest, connected with the natural world around her, and never wanted anything else but it… this thing in front of her… It wasn’t anything right. It didn’t connect to the world around it but rather distorted in a way that rankled at her senses and … well, pissed her right off. Especially as it so casually tossed the heart into the middle of their Band of Idiots, and the smell of blood tanged at her nose and her fingers clenched into claws in the dirt as it stared at Trajan, a loud yell jangling through the mist --

-- wait, a yell? Into the fray came another idiot. This one a very handsome idiot wearing ridiculous armor and swinging a flail and hollering about Nua Nua. That sounded vaguely familiar, but Mitsy didn’t have time to contemplate because she shifted just her legs bigger then immediately smaller, packing the dirt just enough for her to pull herself free, none the wiser to her trick.

The man stumbled back towards her and greeted her and she sort of stared at him with this confused look on her face. “What?”

But she didn’t bother waiting for a response because he was bracing himself against an attack and the opportunity was just too good -- Mitsy surged forward, tonfa in hand, stepping on the back of the man’s leg then his shoulder, leaping up and over his shield. Into the air she coursed, driving the ends of her tonfa down towards the demon’s head with all the force of her momentum and her bodyweight behind it.

If, of course, it even landed and she didn’t get clawed to death. Very, very real possibility right now.

Elbion_pandemonium

 

[Trajan Meng]

Fluid.

Fluid was an apt word to describe their tactical situation now.

The woman in the hat had correctly identified the troll as the greatest threat. Clearly. It was a hulking monstrosity, coming right for them. But that would change.

Mitsy had rushed forward to attack the elven mage, to which Trajan could only spare a seconds long glance at. Surely nothing ill could come of killing him, or at least disabling him until they knew more of his purpose here. Her zeal--normally a more admirable trait--overflowed from her cup some, as she went on to attack the humans of the party. Battle could often be a more potent intoxicant than any wine or ale, and he grudgingly accepted that it made sense in Mitsy's case that she would be drunk on it. But Mitsy's fight, and Trajan's suspicions against the elf...that would change too.

Lightning quick. Another change, this one in the skulking demons. For Trajan saw them rushing the circle out of the corner of his eye. The men of the half-circle that faced the incoming demons from behind stepped backward, tightening the circle and their defense, keeping their shields up and in a wall with little to no gaps to block the vicious claws assailing them. Inspired, to great effect, by the booming voice of command from the woman in the hat. Once again proving herself a capable leader even in the most dire of times.

To see the unity of Mankind at its fullest potential was a thing of awe. The mercenaries held their ground against the demons, counterattacking with powerful thrusts and chops of their own weapons from over the tops of their shields. Faurosk, with an impassioned fervor he likely never even knew he had stirring his hands and his blade to action, took to righteously purging the otherworldly filth that had dared to attempt an assault his person. Even the damned troll shed its own monstrous way of being and prostrated itself before the radiant glory of Mankind at peak strength. And, to Trajan's utter yet delighted surprise, the troll served the interests of humanity by protecting Rainie from one of the foul demons, using its beastly power for a cause other than the satiation of its own hunger for once. And this in turn freed Rainie to deliver an expertly placed shot right between the disgusting eyes of the demon who had leaped high and sought to menace Dio, dropping it dead at Dio's feet--much to the young man's visible relief.

Trajan stepped back into his spot among the defensive circle. The spot in which he'd only taken a single step from, before the bedlam had ensued. The original reason for his departure, the troll, now an asset instead of a threat.

Trajan and the mercenaries of the other half-circle, facing forward and the group of four, didn't even need to break formation to help. And it would've been a foolish move to do so, lest more opportunistic skulkers rush them once they had all turned their backs to face the same way as their fellow mercenaries already engaged in combat. The instinct to help was powerful, yes, but discipline had to trump it, or they would all be ruined.

Nothing did come from Trajan's side. Yet. Nothing did skitter out of the thicker parts of the mist and attack Misty or the group of four she fought. Yet.

But the elf. That sneaky bastard. He was chanting something. And his magic was working! What trickery was this? The elves were formidable magic users, yes, and it was the grave error of many a good man and woman to dismiss the prowess afforded to elves by their long lifespans and the sheer amount of time with which they could perfect their craft. But perhaps it was the mist allowing him to cast his spell on Mitsy.

He could no longer stand idle.

"Hold the circle, brothers," Trajan said to the mercenaries on his left and right. They would have to hold without him. And then he stepped--

Again, only a single step. Before the tactical situation changed once more. For the worst.

A light. Around him. There and gone. Gone once one of the humans among the group of four suffered a horrific fate. A fate--dare he even think it--Trajan wouldn't even wish on the elf. For the thing that killed the poor man, ripped his heart from his chest...it was a wholly evil thing. Its malevolence palpable, like a biting shiver working its way under the skin, like oily claws sinking into the heart. Revulsion at the mere sight of it, even more so than when he had laid eyes on the troll. For this was a thing not of Arethil. And it was abhorrent beyond measure.

And it stared right at him.

And Trajan knew that this was his part in the battle. This was his duty. And that he would slay the fiend, or die with honor and glory in defense of humanity, hearth, and home. And if he should die this day, his only wish that his sacrifice may serve to ignite the righteous fury of his fellows to slay the fiend in his stead.

"Come then," Trajan said to the fiend. His face twisting into a deep scowl as he marched forward.

A man, a loud one, came from nowhere. A late addition, another solo adventurous type. Attacked the fiend. Good.

A mirror image of Trajan himself, marching alongside him. The work of Faurosk, the woman in the hat, perhaps even Rainie or Kalliana for all he knew. Good.

Mitsy, taking flight off the shoulder of the latecomer. Coming down at the fiend from one angle as Trajan approached from another. Good.

And Trajan clenched his teeth and arced his warhammer back and swung at the body of fiend.

Elbion_pandemonium

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

Alliria_pandemonium

Silver and magic might have done little to deter the monsters in the mist, but steel and brute force was adequate to the task. For each one that was felled the mists seem to shirk away from the group.

They were not, however, mindless beasts. Using the cover of the mists and darkness more came. Creatures with pale skin that moved with exceptional speed flanked the giant. They looked to get in close to the others that followed and tear them apart with the bony protrusions that formed blades across their shoulders and arms.



The group of naga that entered the mists would not immediately be assailed. However, they would be able to hear the others battling for their lives.

But how would the naga be received? There was a language barrier between them. Then there was the fact that every single encounter between human and naga to date had ended in violence.

All the time.
They had friends, families, lives, purpose. All she had was her bones and gold. She felt the will invading her mind latch to this. It wasnt right..They had everything...
The earth seemed to envelope her as the darkness pressed in. It wasnt right....
IT WASN'T FAIR!... She held on to her rage and sheer will to survive and adapt as she gave her self to the growing tingle and darkness.

"Ascend," the voice growled. It seemed to reverberate right to her soul. It sparked something deep inside and like a flash fire it spread to her extremities. It wasn't painful. There was pain but somehow the change made it a distant concern.

She was shy, yet fierce beneath that. Her skin cracked as small scales forced their way through. They reflected the light and made her form difficult to see. Her spine twisted as her body started to form a tail. Bones cracked and stretched. A spine started to press out from behind her hand. The spines, as hard as steel, had a deep rivet to carry venom from the glands that were being built inside her forearms.

Shy, hidden, but fierce when she needed to be. Slowly the form would start to resemble the soul.

 

[Rebecca Fourtuna]

Her new feline like tail grew hair to match her blonde dread locks.
A spiked spine much like the one's inside her forearms grew on the tails tip. She tried to scream as pain racked her jaw and her teeth sharpened like pieces of glass.
Her forearm spines retracted back inside her as she burst from the earth. She landed hard face down in the churned soil. She slowly pushed up. Her yellow catlike eyes darted around the mists and focused on the fighting behind them. She sat in a crouch feeling speed and power in her limbs. Her tail made a few practice stabs in the air.

She glanced at her captor now ally.
She did not ask for guidance as she sprang from her crouch and silently strode towards the fighting. She slipped past the giant as he waded through the demon horde. She focused on the group of rangers.
She saw Lia save a comrade before calling out.
"FORM TOGETHER!" and pushing him to his feet.

She approached them slowly creeping on all fours from the left flank of the giants carnage.
As she rose from her crawl Rebecca suddenly lost it.
Tears streamed down her face ,and her shoulders began heaving from genuine sobs.
Her tail slipping under her cloak as she called to Lia their eyes locking.
"Help me! It's Reb-b-becca! P-Please! L-L-Lia! Please..." She stuttered between sobs. Her arms outstretched to the ranger.

Rosalia Kahl

 

[Xoknath]

Like man mixed with beast, distorted mutations of both mixed together with savage design. To fight them, to kill them, was an experience the likes of which even the most mindless of berserkers did not quite match in their primal fury. Perhaps it was because for the mighty orc there were just too many unknowns, things that the enemy knew as part of their nature but he was ignorant of.

Fortunately for him and his allies they had iron, steel, might, and skill. The rangers knew how to work together for the most part, even through the fear and the uncertainty. The giant brought earth-shaking physical power that he used to crush the monstrosities like insects. Xoknath fell into some middle area between them, mightier than the rangers, more aware than the giant, but hardly as focused as either.

As he fought he found rhythm, and with that came comfort, then enjoyment for the situation. Each swing and motion seemed to force its way through the fog and cause the red to trail after him in subtle shades in the broken red. With his limited armor and great bulk he could hardly defend against every strike, but with brutal force and confidence in his movements he could fell or knock back enemies with a single strike, like sticks on a drum or some stiff yet methodical dance.

Occasionally some of the smaller demons would force their way past him, wanting to take the advantage of his larger size to slip through his arc of attack and get at the rangers behind him. For those he demonstrated the use of his battle axe and the design of its beard, interrupting his warrior's dance for just a beat or two to reach back and hook them by the neck before slamming their bodies with the blade of the weapon into more enemies, punctuating his strikes with a wordless grunt that stated his unwillingness to let them do what they wanted.

The pain he suffered, were he lucky enough that these vile beasts were not also poisoned, he could endure. His skin was thick and calloused, years of training, fighting, and hunting almost like a leather hide upon his bones and a mind honed for suffering, both to give and take. As long as he could keep his vitals protected, he could fight, and so far it seemed a struggle for the smaller enemies to even reach his neck.

Yet all the same, it allowed him little opportunity to break from the pattern. He needed to keep focused, to keep the rhythm, to keep attacking every enemy that he saw come near him while trying to balance out the status of his allies. The giant, for example, had demons working their way to his blind spot.

"Giant's ground!" Bloodeye roared at the rangers as he stabbed his orcish cleaver into a larger demon's chest before grabbing a smaller one and hurdling it at the enemies nearing Jair, trying to get the attention towards the swarming creatures actions. The throw earned him a cut on his arm, another on his back, both of which he retaliated to with a double-handed swing of his axe through the two attackers.

There would be no time to pick his blade from the body of the demon, but most of his weapons were tools and he liked to stay practical. With the swing complete, the mighty orc reached for the handle of his woodcutting axe, a simpler and more solid design than his already sturdy war axe, practically a blade with a tree branch shoved through it.

He roared again at the enemies, in pain, in frustration, in wrath, in anticipation, and most importantly in a sadistic glee at what was to come, "I turn my back and ya scratch it? Cut deeper or stand still while I kill ya!"

 

[Kara Orin]

A beast wounded Faurosk’s canine familiar. It reached for the mage’s leg with a snarl. Yet Faurosk threw himself at the beast and savaging pummeled its face. Black blood flew out. As Faurosk stood back up and turned to the chaos surrounding him, he might have felt a power in the black specs upon his face. Magic resided in the beasts’ blood and there was power.

Next to Faurosk was now an available source.

Once Abriax threw his prized corpse-weapon at the pair of beasts, one of them dashed to the side while the other got struck. The one struck rolled back on the ground and struggled to get back up.

The creature that attacked Rainie just barely managed a graze before being obliterated by Abriax. The beast Rainie subsequently shot dropped instantly before Dio.

The Elf looked upon Mitsy in surprise as she pulled herself out of the dirt. His breath was heavy despite not moving too much – a sign of mana exhaustion for a mage. He had no chance to respond to Mitsy using Cornelius to launch herself into the air. The Elf turned around to watch what followed next…

The Redhead slowly picked herself up just in time to see her comrade murdered by the new demon. Her eyes seemed vacant. Her hand, the one that grasped her shattered staff, laid limp at her side.

The demon that killed Bookworm glared at Trajan for a couple more seconds.

A̛͘͝N̷̷̵͜Z҉̸͏I҉͏͞A͏̴͜͠͞N͜͝​

A̛ņz̷i͝a̴ǹ ̕shook its arm to rid it of some of Bookworm’s blood. It shifted its to scan the chaos. It waved its hand. A burning sensation might seem to build in the wounds inflicted the demons. Even for those that healed, such as Nota and Abriax.

A second wave of beasts attacked the rear once more. Some more of their numbers remained in the mist and waited for their direction from A̡nz̶ian̕. Faurosk earned the honor of three beasts targeting him and Nota. Rainie and Abriax got the two that trailed the troll to go after them. Though in Abriax’s case, the creature wanted to distract him and avoid an outright confrontation.

Several beasts eyed Valkery and Kali as they remained in the relatively safe center of the circle. They began to burrow into the ground.

When Cornelius charged out from left field, Anz҉ia҉n ̸turned its head to the paladin and dodged his attacks. It took a few steps back and raised its arm as if it would retaliate.

Then, A͢nz̀ian ̷looked up to see Mitsy flying toward it. An̛z͘ian͢ lifted its arm up as Valkery began to work her magic. Its movement slow down and Mitsy’s tonfa struck Anzian.

CRACK

Its raised forearm now bent at a forty-five-degree angle.

Kara did not stay still this entire time. Once Anźi͞an ͝appeared, she steeled herself and attempted to find a good position to attack the demon. When Kara spotted Mitsy making her attack, Kara saw the opportunity to dash toward A̛nz͝i͟an̢ ͟and attempt to stick it in the gut.

An͟zian sluggishly moved its other arm toward Kara without turning its head. Kara’s runic dagger pierced Anz̸ia̸n͝’s ́palm as a result. Black blood trickled down the blade.

Then, A͢n̶ziąn ͠turned its head back toward Trajan’s direction. Its gaze first met the fake Trajan. It only turned to the real one once his war hammer struck its abdomen. Black blood spewed forth.

Yet despite the blow, Ąn̷z̀i͟an remained in place. T̶͡h̷̨ey͞ ̧́s̷h͝o̵͟u̢͜͞ld̀ h̡͟a҉v͘e͟ ̛l̸̶e̸̶f́t̸̸.̵

An͟z͢ia̛n’s ͟g̴l̡o͟wing̸ ey̨e̸s puls͝e͘ḑ. ҉T͝h͜e҉ soft gr̴o̸u̸n̵d ̀wi̶th͏iņ ą c̨o͠up̛l̨e̕ ̧me͟tér̕s o͟f ̧A͏n̴z̀i͟an b̴eg͠a͏n͠ ̀to҉ bu͘bb̸le.̷ It gra͜b́b͝ed̷ Ka̕r͟a’͘s ͢dagg̴er͘ ͝w͝ith i͟ts̢ s̀t͜abb͘e̶d͏ ͠h̨and͟.̕ It̵s͟ b̕r̷ok͢en͝ ͏f͝o͝r͜ea͏rm͘ ͘a͞t̛t͟eḿp͝t͢e̢d to͝ ́ẁŕap͜ ̶it̷sel͟f̀ ̛ar̴o̵uǹd Mitsy’͢s tonf̨a – ͝b́e̡n̷ding͝ at̢ ͜the po̸in̕t of̛ ̶f̸ra̕c͝t̵urę.̵ The͏ d̵ȩm͢o̡n͟’s͝ ͡ab͡s̀ ̵g̸rew҉ te͟n͡drils ͞that at͘temp̡ted̛ t҉o seize͠ Tr͠a̵j҉an’̷s͡ ͟war h͠ammer͏.̸

It͠ ̸d҉e҉͝m̴̧ą̷͠n̢͢ded͟ ȩ̸̡v̛e͢r̢͞y͢͢o͟͞n͏̴̡e̷̛͢ ̢t̶͜͠o̴ ̢͘s͏t̢͝a̕y.̧̀͟

Elbion_pandemonium

 

[Jair]

Jair loosed his heavy meteor hammer, and it wrapped itself around the giant demons arm, and he yanked it forward. The demonic target lurched forward in a stomping motion, and that's when the smaller pale skinned creatures made their move. The swarmed him, like so many bees. He roared in pain using the of his rope to swat them off, but they were too many of them, and the giant creature that Jair had lassoed, and could have trounced with nothing but skill was now a heavy duty threat to him.

For all of his might, he couldn't deal with swarms too well, it was giants bane. Zerg rush was no fun, when you were not a zerg. He kicked, and stomped as best he could the creatures scrambling up his legs and on his back. Arrows flew, most of them hit the pale creatures, some hit him lodging in his back, and knees. Luckily for him he had thick skin, but it still felt like dozens of needles digging into his back. It gave him an idea for giant sized acupuncture...but that would have to wait till after the current crisis he was in.

More of the pale little things were driven off his back just in time for the giant demons right cross to connect with the side of his FACE!!! He dropped the rope connected to his hammer, the giant demon was too close to fight with it. He danced on his toes, dodging a wild hay maker, and smirking. Ding ding round one.

He fired off two rapid left jabs into his opponents ribs, just enough to turn the giant demon, and followed up with a right hook to his opponents jaw.

The giant demon plodded back, rared back in a telegraphing way, and flung a heavy left over the shoulder punch, ducking his head between the shoulders. Jair dipped, and threw out another left, right series of jabs, and followed up with another cross.

Again the giant demon staggered back, and Jair felt that the demons power was dwindling, not being used to prolonged fights. As the demon staggered back Jair took advantage of his swift jabs, and turned its head. Jair twisted performed a showy wind up, and rocketed off a heavy right hook right into the demons jaw. It broke, and the Giants subsequent uppercut drove the demons teeth into its upper pallet, and brain.

And the gargantuan weight grand champion of the world is JAIR!!!!!

Oh crap more pale demons swarming at him!

Xoknath | Rebecca Fourtuna | @Rosalia Kahl

 

[Felix Armon]

Alleria_Pandemonium

Lionel's blade was razor sharp and had been his most trustworthy weapon for many years, but he could tell that the cuts his blade made in the flesh of the demon were treated as if his weapon were incredibly dull. His suspicions were confirmed, these demons were resistant to damage by supernatural means... it was like his brother always told him, "It takes a man to kill a monster".

His sword still did damage though, even if it was exponentially lessened by its supernatural components. And it was far from useless still.
He barely avoided the claws slashing the air in front of his face and he was about to backpedal to face the demons when he realized the demon he cut was still standing behind him. Instead he salvaged the situation the most creative way he could imagine. He tilted backwards, balancing on one foot while kicking the demon in front of him solidly with the other foot while he drove the tip of his blade through the back and heart of the demon behind him. His blade felt like it was stabbing through thick plate metal, but it got the job done. His kick on the other hand found the demon body to be soft and vulnerable to his attack.

He now had a strategy and he felt confident that this battle was once again well in hand. Yes, a battle... He could hear the sounds of screaming and combat off to the side. The huge heartbeat that he identified as a giant was moving forward, fighting and battling its way through enemies and shouting challenges at his foes. The humans were taking the hit and trying to stay together while fighting off the demons, they probably didn't realize that they were the most effective weapon against the demons that they had right now.

Lionel recovered his balance quickly to see the demon he kicked real back a bit with the impact, but he could see it was only angered and the shadows of other demons were quickly moving in on him. His sword was not useless, he used it to help in deflecting the clawed attacks of the demons as they attempted to push him back. But a quick sniff told him he was too late to save the girl from the demons corruption, it had already taken place and she was on the move. She wasn't human anymore and he could hear the sound of her heartbeat dying from his ears and her blood vanishing from his nose. He could no longer track her... But she herself was not silent as she called out to her allies.

He returned his focus to the demons attacking him, the mist initially made them difficult to see, but when they got close their appearance became known, not that it mattered. He was facing three demons at once and his sword flashed in response to their assault, deflecting their attacks masterfully on his "dull" blade. He called out to Vahki if he was still there and in ear shot, "These demons are immune to magical and supernatural attacks, but they are vulnerable to mundane damage! If you are still able I would send word to the humans. I get the feeling that this isn't our fight, nor the enemy we were created to face!"

 

[Madame Valkery]

an intense grin of satisfaction flashed across Valkery's face as she saw that her magic had worked, the head demon was slowing down. She readied herself to double her efforts but her attention was drawn to the rest of the combat. Several of the demons had been slain but now a second wave came at them an increase in numbers. She stopped feeding the spell affecting the head demon, though it would still take a little while for his temperature to return to normal.

"Together men! These demons are no match for our combined forces!" She called out in encouragement. Her word combined with the adrenalin and success of the last wave of attack inspired the mercenaries to rise to greater glory and face the oncoming wave with the combined force of mankind. Valkery noticed that some of the demons had begun burrowing underground. Most likely in an attempt to get at Valkery and the others in the center of the circle. She scowled and reached for the long silver pin, it was easily dagger-length, but faltered. She needed to keep up the pretense that she was human or the men's moral would crumble and all would be lost. Instead, she turned to one of the mercenaries holding the line on Trajan's side.

"Excuse me, good sir," She said drawing the short sword he kept as a sidearm from his belt. "I will return this shortly," The man started slightly surprised but did not challenge her. Valkery could feel the demon's burrowing beneath their feet.

"Careful." She called out in warning to the group "The demons are burrowing beneath us, Blond beard, Redhead, brake the circle and defend your comrade's backs, the rest of you close the circle, no matter what happens, hold the circle, we will defend your backs." She called choosing two of the mercenaries to defend the inside of the circle. The two chosen backed out of the line and turned inward the rest of their comrades quickly closing formation. Valkery readied her borrowed blade feeling where the demons were beneath them and prepared herself to stab the first one as soon as it emerged from the earth.

 

[Maude]

ERETEJVA

Gunnar Bergstrom

Spoiler

ERETEJVA

Queensguard commander, those words rang pretty loud and clear to him, he wasn't too surprised. Gunnar had come to trust Maude with his life and vice versa, for better or worse they had been through a lot of things together and he would never have simply walked in to the city if it were not for his confidence in her.

"Sounds like you're gonna make me do a lot of work huh." He mumbled, before adding in a clear vocal tone. "My queen." He said that with a slight smirk, he was still recovering from his wounds and honestly he felt like just drinking and fucking for a while but he could still do that on the road, or so was his hope.

He followed the queen wordlessly, giving a look at all those gathered. He wondered how many of them were truly loyal and how many of them simply wanted to get as much power as they could from the new ruler.

"It's fine, I know you won't go back on your word." He said as he considered the armory. "I'll make sure to get myself geared up as best I can and be ready as soon as possible to leave, anything you think I should take with me? Apart from a few bottles of drink and a weapon." He chuckled , giving a look around and giving her a tight slap on the rear.

"At least we won't be cold during the night right?" He was a brash and uncouth man and had no idea of propriety, or even considered the fact that she might not want him in her tent during this expedition.

The Queen's response was immediate and intense: Gunnar found himself thrown across the expansive hall and into a cold, unyeilding stone column. Maude glowered from where she stood, eyes black with a sudden flash of rage, features caught in the beastial throes of early transformation. A growl echoed through the corridor, fading with her fury into a sound of weariness.

She frowned, black blinking into green again, and lifted a hand to press at her temple where a deep and pounding pain had cemented itself.

"This is not a game, Gunnar," low words edged by frustration, "These are my people - your people. Arm yourself, get your winter gear from the tanner, and eat your fill. We march straight to Faarin - there will be no rest stops."

Whatever was happening to the hunting parties, it couldn't be good. Maude wasn't sure what troubled her more in that instant: their unexplained disappearances or her uncontrollable shift of mood.

"I need to see to Hugi. We make our leave tonight."

She gave pause, frown deepening, then turned and headed off towards the southern wing of the Frozen Halls.

 

[Luna Slateforge]

"Your debt is not so easily paid child."

The voice from the void licked her ear as her eyes snapped back open. Her wounds had began to heal as her book radiated energy gifted to her from Bastellen.
She saw Sigrith taking her swing at the creatures exposed neck and with a quick dive towards her she threw a layer of void energy around Sigrith's exposed face and neck remembering her warning about not allowing the tendrils to touch exposed skin. The energy fit like a thin mask ready to repel any thing that would try and latch.

With her left hand she threw out a whip of energy that snaked through the air and wrapped around the massive claw swing to swat The witch like a fly.
She dug her knees into the snow as she grasped the thick tendril of energy with both hands, the paw stalled as the line was pulled taunt.

The force pulling her left shoulder out of socket as she was yank forward landing hard in the snow but not before ensuring Sigrith had every chance to land this blow.
It was up to the witch now.
Luna drifted back into the world of darkness but it was more due to exhaustion than death.
Her energy was drained.
She waited for the witch to bring the aid she had promised after the fighting as their was nothing else she could do at this point.

 

[Sannoru]

Eretejva_pandemonium

Sannoru turned in his stride, the sight to behold was a mess of gore and squirmimg tendrils and growths. Eyes shifted up to gaze at Sigrith.

You nordenfiir work together, with your walls of shields and martial prowess. But what of when an enemy ruins a firm defence this quickly? What then?

Drastic measures and sacrifices.

Carefully assaying the location for further damadge, the gray wolf padded off towards Sigrith, sidestepping around the expanding gibbed mess.

 

[Eilasandree Ival]

Viktor Albedo Amankh Kaltar Grimr The Crimson Madonna TTamark Celeste Tenebrea Ynsidia
(Get up you lot. We're not letting some Demons take our place as the bad guys.)

The scouts spotted it first. A wall of red mist, their minds told Eilasandree as they quickly retreated back towards the main host of Undead. From what she had seen through the deceased orcish eyes, it stretched as far as the eye could see, and would soon be sight as the large body of undead moved towards it. A frown marred her ethereal face as the Banshee Queen mulled over the situation. She had never heard of anything like it outside of blood magic, and even then never on this scale. The art was rare. Rarer than necromancy, for certain, and the sheer power that would be required to create such a thing? It was all but impossible as far as she knew. A part of her was tempted to go around it, but it had stretched towards the horizon and they were already running very close to a schedule, any unexpected delays could cause all of her plans to potentially fail or worse, their enemies to get wise as to their ultimate goal.

Still however, it would be foolish to walk into such an anomaly completely unprepared. With a mental wave, she guided forward a few of the animals that had been foolish enough to get too close. Two savannah cats and four wolves that they had captured close to the beginning of their journey. The harsh sun was beginning to rot away the dead flesh of the beings, and she could see the damage to a particular wolf where one of her soldiers had gouged an eye out, leaving half of its face a ravaged mess. Bounding forward, the undead animals took their position a few dozen metres ahead of the column, even as the sound of rusty arms and armour being drawn and brought together filled the air, a cacophony disrupting the rythmic, in-time marching. Skeletal jaws rattled, and murmuring filled the air as the more intelligent that still had their vocal cords began to whisper to themselves in curiosity and worry. Many knew what was ahead, more didn't, and that scared them.

"Knight." She called, getting an almost immediate response in the form of steps that shook the ground as the titanic being of steel and magic stepped forward, forcing her to look up at him despite her undead horse. He was a potential threat later on, the banshee could already tell, but for now he would be perfect as a bodyguard. "I need you to stay close to me. I am not sure what magic drives this mist before us, but I do not trust it. Be ready for anything. Should I perish, our dream goes with me." "...It shall be done." Came the rasping, deathrattle response from the lich knight as he hefted his titanic shield and stepped close towards the necromancer.

The mist was almost upon them, growing larger with every second, and Eilasandree could swear her heart was beating, despite having stilled permanently almost eight centuries ago. There was something... off about the mist, beyond the obvious, and she didn't much like it. However, she had little choice. The animals bounded ahead, leaping and even snarling as she sent them into the red mist. They would find whatever was in there for her. For a moment she was tempted to call for Ynsidia, a blood mage that she had discovered a few years ago, but by then it was too late. The mist was upon them. "Stay close to me, my lady." Came the voice of Magnan from her right, as her first orderly row of skeletal soldiers were swallowed by the mist. One by one the red mist ate them, and then... it was her turn. Inhaling out of habit, she entered, knight at her side and ready for whatever may come.

Blightlands_pandemonium

 

[Faurosk]

The rest of the Band of Idiots had seemingly worked through their respective hardships, and Faurosk took the moment to stare down at his handiwork. Yes, he had succeeded in preserving his own life at the cost of the demon's, and perhaps if he hadn't, the wretched thing would have continued into his allies' ranks and torn them up from within the circle. Though once his anger subsided and took much of his fear with it, the only feeling left was one of gnawing guilt. Not guilt for the demon's life, of course- It had tried to kill him, after all -but rather for the fact that he had to kill to live. On many levels, the logic of the argument "kill or be killed" disgusted him.

But there was something about the corpse before him, with its skull blossomed out into a lotus of dripping black and fragmented bone; There was a power there, and it beckoned to him, strong and alluring and full of teeth.

D̸r̶a̵w̷ ̵f̵r̴o̵m̴ ̶t̴h̶e̶ ̴B̴l̵o̸o̵d̷.̷ ̷G̴r̵o̵w̴ ̶f̵a̷t̵ ̵f̸r̷o̶m̷ ̵s̷t̷r̴e̸n̸g̵t̶h̴.̸ ̵R̴e̸n̵d̷ ̵t̵h̶e̶ ̶F̷l̶e̸s̶h̴.̶

Another thought that wasn't his own, surely planted by the fog. No, that simply would not do. Faurosk wiped at his face, smearing the blood off of it and onto the sleeve of his robes. "I'm a magician," he thought, "Not some two-bit apprentice, meddling with dark magic..."

He cast his staff aside and drew his athamé in its place, holding it in strange juxtaposition to the blood-tainted dagger Mitsy had loaned him before sliding the latter into the athamé's newly emptied sheath. It hardly fit right, but it would have to do. Faurosk used his teeth to pull the glove off of his newly emptied hand, revealing countless scars across his palm and a number of arcane glyphs tattooed to the back of his hand.

Three more shadows approached swiftly through the fog, causing Nota to retreat behind his master and issue forth a low growl. The mage looked up from his hand and glared at the incoming demons, swinging his silver knife through the air and leaving shimmering lines of blue light in its wake. "Come on, then!" His shout came out higher in pitch than he would've liked, and he realized that he was still more than a little afraid of getting shredded by the obscured fiends.

The lines of arcane energy sloughing off of Faurosk's athamé solidified in the air when the somatic component of his spell was complete, forming a sigil in the air that cast bright light off in all directions and threw shadows behind the demons as they emerged full-tilt from the Mist. The mage reached out and pressed his empty palm into the floating symbol, forcing his willpower down his arm and into the arcane sign. He gave his creation a spark of energy, and it answered back with a torrent of its own; the arcane energies of the sigil cascaded up the mage's arm, flowing down his torso and into the ground below. The floating symbol vanished, and a thick vein of obsidian glass began to transmute out of the mud in the direction of the oncoming demons.

The glass shattered a split second later, sending shards of razor-sharp obsidian soaring into the air. Faurosk clenched his fist shut where the symbol was moments before, and the fragments simply stopped, suspended in the air. It was then that something seared at his wrist, as if someone had shoved a burning iron into the wound the first demon gave him as it struggled to tear out his throat. Despite his exceptional willpower, Faurosk cried out in pain, dropping his knife and grasping the cut. His mind screamed for the pain to end.

And yet his fist remained clenched, and the stones still hung in the air, much in the same way that bricks do not.

He looked back up at the demons, now a mere ten feet away and closing in swiftly. Tears and demonic blood ran down his cheeks, stinging his skin in their wake. One creature began to lunge for his center of mass, and the mage reacted in kind. He threw his hand forwards, splaying his fingers at the three demons and spitting out four quick syllables.

"LACERATAE!" The shards of obsidian erupted forwards through the air, entirely cancelling the forward momentum of the lunging demon and hitting all three with enough speed to strip their flesh to the bone. Countless cuts covered their bodies, sending them cascading through the air to land in the mud, each one an unrecognizable bloody heap.

Pain lanced through the center of Faurosk's brain, the arcane backlash of the spell amplified by exhaustion and the untold effects of the Mist. He winced momentarily, but the burning pain in his wrist quickly distracted him from the building migraine. "Gods damn it," he thought, tone full of spite, "Had to go and be a wizard-- Not a carpenter, or a cobbler, or anything else that doesn't result in daily abuse..."

Elbion_pandemonium

 

[TTamark]

(We're not letting some Demons take our place as the guys of undetermined alignment, potentially even being nice guys.)*

Steve wished he had brought more potatoes when he first caught sight of the red mist drawing nearer. Now that he thought about it, he would have also preferred if he had brought more of his friends along. Steve, as always, was ill suited for a fight relying on others to help him, and this mist gave him a bad feeling, like a bowl of stew, and a kind smile might not be enough this time. The only thing going for him was that he had finally caught up with the rest of Eternum. He had flown straight here from near the spine to check on Eternums progress as it had been moths since he had last heard from them, Steve honestly had begun to worry about them.

Because of the distance and his rush to check on them he had only packed the essentials, and now with the red mist he regretted that decision. He quickly went through what resources he had brought, and could use if it came to it: Only four sacks of potatoes tied to a zombie pegasus, his massive pot of stew tied below the chimera he now rode, and just thirty chickens that he had been able to fit on the two mounts with him.

As he landed behind the Eternum horde he watched as the mist grew nearer. He listened to what Eilasandree the self pointed leader had to say, so he could find where he could be of most help, but couldn't help to chuckle when he heard her say:

Should I perish, our dream goes with me.

He wondered to himself if she truly believed that, or if she only said such things in the heat of the moment. Either way it was a pleasant joke that had eased his mood, maybe he would reply with one in kind,

"I know not all of us can bring such a bright demeanour to the table, but if the torch of our hopes and dreams lie with you... Well we are doomed indeed. HAHAHA!"

As Steve adjusted the stew pot on the chimera, and sunk his teeth into a potato, the wave of red finally consumed him as well

Blightlands_pandemonium

 

[Baise]

Eretejva_pandemonium

Valthar slumped to one knee, feeling the cold kiss of the snow seep through his leggings. The tainted blood was spreading out through the snow. Much of it was already across his clothing. Tainted Svalen and witches battling in the tundra. Here he was, a fisherman with a shield and spear.

As he forced himself back to his feet he realised that was just a shield now. The haft of the spear was bowed and splintered. The Svalen must have been moments from tearing him apart when the Queen's representative had cut through its thick neck with her blade.

Valthar cast the spear down and stepped away. He pulled his braids back over his shoulders. He took deep lungfuls of air, the steam from his breath joining that rising from the bloody mess before them. The red mists seemed to have stopped crawling up from the gorge.

Turning towards the Queen's representative to ask if she knew what this thing was and to offer some thanks, he was interrupted by an ethereal cry. He turned towards the sound, from within the red mists, and felt his breath quicken once again. Shadows danced inside the mists, the receding sun playing tricks with them.

Then they took shape. Tall figures of jet black rushed out of the mists towards the group. Valthar tried to gauge how large they were, but from here he could only determine that they were crossing the open ground far faster than a man. All the stories told around the fire of monsters and demons and witches and warlocks had not prepared him for the sight of something so otherworldly.

"Hold!" cried his uncle. The strength in that familiar voice brought Valthar's focus back. He found his axe in the melting snow and joined the rest of his people in forming what seemed a very frail line against the darkness.

 

[Amankh Kaltar]

Viktor Albedo Grimr The Crimson Madonna Celeste Tenebrea Ynsidia (The Eternum calls for your prescence once again.)

Amankh Kaltar was no stranger to dark magic. Decrepit eye sockets, darkened in shadow and filled with a rushing sandstorm, observed the approaching crimson mist. Its apparent dominion was large, larger than any previous example of dark magic, at least of this variety, that Amankh had laid his gaze upon, both in life and unlife. It was an impressive display of magical prowess, wherever and whoever that may be. Whoever was responsible for such a display of magical ability was surely an extraordinary mage, perhaps even one to rival those of the old Sand Elf empire that now resided beneath the sands. He would be attempting deception if he were to say that he wouldn't be interested in uncovering the one behind such arcane acts.

He shifted his gaze to the army of the Eternum, evaluating their readyness for the venture ahead. They had attracted new members in the time it had taken them to travel all this way, the new additions coming both from their own self-interest and others from an unfortunate yet ultimately unimportant demise. The undead soldiers clattered and rattled in curiosity, mainly musing about the mist ahead. Some expressed fear, and others found interest in what they were seeing. None seemed to be facing cowardice at the moment. As for the more higher-ranked members of the Eternum, Eilasandree was readying for an attack, calling Magnan to serve as a bodyguard. Not a terrible idea, considering the still unknown premise of this magic.

A comment from Eilasandree seemed to spark some hilarity in Steve, atop his chimera-made-kitchen. Despite having a relatively expressionless face, Amankh showed a clear yet silent indication of exasperation and disinterest in the petty rivalry between the two. The doubt of Eilasandree's right to lead was a sentiment he could somewhat agree with, considering she was not the chosen of Abtatu. However, she was the one to raise much of the forces here, and was the main spark for the Eternum. "If such an event occurs, we shall see what transpires. Until then, there is no point in discussing this."

A solemn tone overtaking the undead Herald of the Sands, he rose a skeletal hand in front of him. Linen wrappings fell from the movement, revealing more of the preserved bone and flesh beneath. Sand began to depart, evacuating the ribcage which had held them captive. Wisps of the golden dust drifted in the air, encircling the outstretched arm like a desert snake enraveling its prey. The sand continued to flow, making its way to the hand of Amankh. Golden specks of the desert sand began to coalesce into a hand, pressing the palms together. The mummified undead set his gaze downward in reverence, murming a prayer in the ancient tongue of the old Sand Elves. The hand was blown away from the wind, dispersing upon the completion of the prayer. The sand circled the front of the Eternum, a river of gold in the sky, before eventually returning to Amankh. May Abtatu guide them.

Raising his head upward, he watched the mist come ever closer from atop his undead mount. His fingers tensed, his grip on the ornate staff tight in preparation for the oncoming wall of blood-like mist. And then, it overtook him, as his mount crossed the border between the regularly frigid and dry air of the Blightlands and into the domain of the mysterious mist.

Blightlands_pandemonium

 

[Vahki]

The flapping of wings penetrated Vahki’s hearing, and his swordstaff’s blade ignited in a magic ‘flame’, which he cast outwards - the flame solidifying into a blade and slicing at the source of the hearing as he flew towards it - and he repeated this two or three times. He could hear claws heading towards him, and turned, creating a platform to jump off of. When he did that, the creature turned towards his new position, but it was too late. Another platform, another jump, and the beast was impaled by the steel blade of Vahki’s swordstaff. It fell to the ground with a thump as Vahki kept pace with the Armon below him.

He headed downwards, and impaled the head of another demon - destroying it just as it edged closer to the Armon while he was dealing with other demons.

“I’m aware of that, now, Felix.” Vahki said, frowning. Well, he was now, at least, now that he knew for certain they were in the air. Vahki felt himself being pulled down right as he attempted to ascend, and was tossed to the ground. He gripped his swordstaff tightly, and created a platform to land on and bounce off of. He ascended back into the sky, and created an aether rope wrapped around the edge of his swordstaff’s pole. He tossed it around in a circle, the swordstaff carving through the flesh of another demon, then cutting another vertically - destroying its head - just as the swordstaff ascended upwards, and then back into Vahki’s hand. Vahki looked down to where Felix Armon was, and sighed.

The words of Lia in front of them called Vahki to within speaking range of her.

“My magic is next to useless in this mist, ranger.” He said.

“But, I think my blade may aid us in acquiring victory, if I am remembering how to use it correctly.” Vahki said, the swordstaff’s pole extending forward and impaling a demon a few meters away before retracting.

Vahki jumped on a series of platforms towards Felix’s location, and sliced at a creature. This one seemed to have armor. It blocked his first strike, but Vahki bolted it with a pulse of magick. It didn’t do much. The creature stumbled backwards a few feet, but that let Vahki jump backwards into the air, maneuver so his feet were horizontal and facing towards the sky, and them leap forward towards the beast off of a platform. He heard a crack, and blocked the strike of another creature.

“The two of us should be able to handle these, but we need to make sure they don’t get past us. If they do, the rangers will be flanked… and that won’t be good for any of us.” He said. Vahki let out a yelp of pained surprise as bone spines were shot across the distance and penetrated his left shoulder. His swordstaff shrunk into simply a sword, and he inhaled sharply.

“Careful. One seems to be able to launch their bones…” He said, deflecting another bone spine. This time, he recognized the sound of it flying through the air.

Alliria_pandemonium

 

[Kalianna Romane]

Kali watched the fight with fervent interest, allowing the illusionary Trajan to vanish once A̛ņz̷i͝a̴ǹ realized it was indeed a mere illusion. However, she wasn't done with her magic yet. Weaving invisible trails of magic in her hands, sewing the illusions into reality, it seemed as if every one of her allies currently being apprehended by A̛ņz̷i͝a̴ǹ had another arm, welding a copy of their weapon. Out of Trajan's arm came another wielding the warhammer, shifting and moving in way that matches Trajan's movement while not coming into contact with any incoming tentacles or his existing arm. Misty's arms seemed to duplicate, wielding tonfas identical to her own. They threatened to counterattack, gesturing aggressively but not actually moving to attack. Kara's arm, currently wielding the dagger impaling A̛ņz̷i͝a̴ǹ's palm, quickly had another retract from it, wielding the same dagger as before. Hopefully this would make the efforts to disarm them much more difficult.

She turned her head to the white-haired woman who was in the center with her, nodding her head to her warning. The demons were tenacious, that was a certainty. Kali began to pace around within the center, taking large and small steps to make it more difficult for the demons to burrow right underneath her. She did try to keep an eye on the fight to monitor for any developments and make her illusions act accordingly and avoid any demon tentacles, broken demon arms, or impaled demon hands of any variety. She readied her weapons, pointed at the ground in preparation for any incoming beasts.

A brief overview of the progress in the rear showed a surprisingly large amount of bloodied corpses, and an equally damaged Faurosk. She had seen a sudden streak of what appeared to be shards of obsidian, which she inferred Faurosk to be the source. Once this fight is over, assuming they all end up surviving, some rest will need to be in order. The mercenaries and those in the back have suffered quite a bit of punishment, punishment that doesn't seem to have an end in sight.

Elbion_pandemonium