Devil's Last Dance

[Arianwen Chandell]

*Arianwen nodded and smiled a greeting at the woman who had identified herself as Diseera. Still supporting Daeryn on one shoulder and nursing the baby on the other, Arianwen began to lead both Daeryn and Diseera away from the raging earth behind them. She had no idea of the magicks being used around them, but she knew that a powerful being must be at work to cause the ground to split in the way that it was. Fearful that her small group would get sucked into the ground below, Arianwen picked up her pace as much as Daeryn and the baby would allow as she headed towards what she hoped was a safe space. She was aware of danger approaching them from behind, but she was too scared to turn around and look.

Instead, her brilliant blue eyes fell upon what appeared to be an elven archer standing on a rock. Although she had never seen him before, she felt instantly at peace and safe and she hurried towards where he was, only to see him vanish before her eyes. Halting slightly in confusion, Arianwen gasped out loud as the face of a faun popped up out of the ground and told them to hurry and that they needed to come this way. It appeared that he wanted them to go underground, and Arianwen found her feet resisting to this notion. Just as Diseera began to usher them forward, Arianwen let Daeryn follow her while she and her brother stayed put. Arianwen had had a bad experience in an underground cave once, and the cave in was still fresh in her mind as she eyed the small opening in the ground.

Just then, she was aware of that brilliant light once more and she looked up at the sky above, only to shield her eyes for fear of being blinded. Fearing for the baby’s eyesight, Arianwen went against her better judgement and followed the others underground. She stayed near the entrance however, and was able to watch as Gwydion appeared nearby in a crater that displayed his awesome power. Once the dust had settled and she could see once more, Arianwen rushed outside, the baby nestled in her arms, and her brother by her side. Running over to Gwydion, her delight at seeing him again was written all over her delicate features. With her free arm she wanted to hug him, though she suddenly grew shy at being so close to him once more. Studying him for any signs of injury though seeing none, Arianwen chewed on her bottom lip anxiously as she gazed up at him.

~Gwydion…came back… for.. Arianwen?~ *

[Ouranos]

'His heart thudded in his chest, sounding like thunder to him. A flash of light in the middle of the streets ejected the tall, muscular framed man from it and right into the side of a building, dazing him. Another thunderous beat echoed in his ears. His eyes flicker open, the silver in them seeming dull for a moment before he blinks and it almost solidifies like metal. Another beat. He rolls over and stands quickly, tall, handsome, as though sculpted by the gods this paladin was. His blade is drawn, a bastard sword that is wreathed in almost cold-blue flames. Heartbeat. His shield is strong on his arm as the man, clad in what appears to be perfectly linked silver scales for armor, starts marching down the street, chopping down any demons that come near him, the beasts not simply crashing to the ground, but practicly disintegrating at the touch of his consecrated weapon.'

'He senses other holy beings, other supernatural beings, and great powers at work here. He looks up across the street, seeing a church tower with an archer in it, apperantly friendly. Good, he thinks, covering fire. He looks across the street, noticing a woman surrounded by foes. He knows not where he is, his Gods never tell him to where he is sent, merely snatch him up and send him on his way, but he can make afew guesses, and demons are definately a good reason for his presence.'

'With a battle-cry shouted, his charge begins, a song on his lips, a song of battle, of praise to the Gods of battle as he tears into the rear of the mob that is after Moridanu. He hacks his way through them, bashing some out of the way with his shield, his keen silver eyes practicly aflame themselves, as he channels holy power through himself and banishes one demon without even touching it. Once he's cut through, he joins up with Mori, introducing himself mid-fight.'

Greetings, m'lady... 'Block, swing, swing.' I am Sir Ouranos 'Block' Helaine, Knight of Helm.. 'Swing swing' and Shield-Bearer of Torm. I assume you can direct me to... 'Block, thrust, jab' whoever is in command here so I may be.. 'Thrust, block thrust' most useful?

[The Demon Auditor]

His head bowed as Mori forgave him over the events which began the battle. As Mori's hands touched his spiral-tattooed cheeks, he felt as she felt, and knew they would have many more days together to share their thoughts and feelings. His hands touched her sides as she embraced him briefly, the flames burning all around, and in that moment, his resolve was steeled.

Mori charged ahead, and for a moment he paused, bringing his hands in front of him and closing his eyes. Shadows crept out of the sleeves of his trench coat, writhing across his tattoo-laced fingers, before quickly jumping into a line and solidifying into a long object in front of him. In a matter of seconds he held a black, five foot long bardiche in front of him, the blade gleaming in the firelight with a spiral design matching his own markings. At the base, a giant set of eyelids opened, revealing a red jewel embedded into the hilt, its center darker than even his coat.

"If I remember correctly, the pointy end goes this way..." he mused to himself, brandishing the blade with both hands at the enemy with a smirk. Taking off in hot pursuit of Mori, orcs and goblins fell to either side of his path. He caught up with her in a matter of moments, and just in time as an orc soldier dripping with blood flanked her. Its falling blade was halted by a sharp gust of ice cold wind, freezing the entire beast. Lowering the jeweled end of his bardiche, he took a quick moment to admire his handiwork, before bashing the frozen statue of the orc to pieces and kicking one of the larger chunks of ice into another enemy's chest and knocking it flat on its back.

"Heads up, orc snowballs!! ...I'll let the connotation of that one sink in for a bit," he chuckled, tearing into more demons around them as the valiant paladin charged up and made introductions.

[Gwydion Shadowbane]

Gwydion smiled warmly, and without hesitation threw his arms around Arianwen's shoulders and embraced her. "Praise Solanasia! I feared for your safety. When I felt you... I came as soon as I could, but you weren't at the cabin. And..." He pulled back, his face a portrait of relief and joy.

His gaze then turned to the babe cradled in Arianwen's arms. "You didn't tell me you had a whelp of your own!" Gwydion reached a finger out toward the child. "Look at you! So brave. I bet you make a fine soldier one day." He grinned slyly at Arianwen. "Or maybe a cleric, eh?"

Gwydion was suddenly, and quite acutely, aware of the massive flame-wings that snapped and fluttered behind him. "Some things have changed within me, and without as well! I would love to tell you more, but... " he smiled a bit sheepishly. "I'm not entirely sure what I could say. But right now, we need to find a place to shelter you and your youngling." Gwydion cast a glance at Arianwen's "brother" and held his hand out toward him, an invitation to approach. "Not that you aren't well guarded now, but I would rather you were away from here." He scanned the sky above the city. "I would gladly carry the two of you from this battlefield, but the sky is no safer than the ground, it seems.

"Do you have a place to go? And what of your companions?" Gwydion gestured to the rock under which the others had disappeared.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The spectral image of Gwydion rose, a smile on his face. "Indeed! Wisdom arises from peril. There are as many names for the Goddess as there are lands touched by her glory. But no matter the form she chooses to take, we all want the same thing-- peace for all, and safety for our loved ones." His face hardened. "So, let us do war, that we might bring peace."

"The image of Gwydion dimmed as Moridanu absorbed the energy it shed. He could sense her need, her weakness, and without a pause focused his energy into forming a mystical connection to her, a channel through which thoughts, strength, and mystical power could flow easily from one to the other. As he poured the might of Solanasia into the Queen, brilliant specks of light were pulled from the air and absorbed into his being. Faster and faster, the motes gathered, until Gwydion's form was of pure, blinding light. At last, the light faded away, and Gwydion stood before Queen Moridanu in the flesh. He smiled and bowed once more, and then summoned his flaming brand, a ray of pure sunlight made manifest.

"The time is now!" Moridanu cried, and Gwydion's wings burst into being. "To the inn it is! Let us close this portal!" Gwydion threw himself into the air, gliding behind the charging Queen and her escorts. As she and her two retainers entered the fray with the hordes of Evil, Gwydion drew a fistful of crushed mirror shards from a pouch on his belt. He infused each piece, each speck, with the the light of Solanasia, Goddess of the Sun, and cast them into the air, a spray of sparkling flecks that hung suspended for a heartbeat, before exploding outward. The pieces of mirror streaked away in all directions, each leaving a trail of light behind in a display like fireworks in the sky. Each fleck reached its intended destination, and as one they burst again.

The result was spectacular.

Each shard of the crushed mirror had become a reflection of Gwydion. The air above the battleground was filled by them, a legion of fiery-winged beings wielding brands of pure sunlight and filled with the fury of the righteous. In unison they raised their brands and gave a mighty war cry, a fierce chorus of paladins crying praise to their Goddess and destruction to the wicked. As one, the legion descended upon the ranks of their foes like avenging angels bearing divine punishment.

Their blades passed through their enemies without resistance, doling out burning death to all that they touched. Beasts fell from the sky, wings or limbs severed, to fall upon their ghastly allies below. Avatars of Solanasia's Champion hovered or swooped above the heads of the wicked hordes, cutting the life from the army of Darkness.

Gwydion himself floated behind Moridanu and her retinue, slashing and kicking at the enemies below. The Queen Moridanu rushed forth, carving through ranks of vile flesh. Enemies set upon her from the sides, attempting to surround and engulf her, but her retainers batted them back. There were so many! The beasts closed in again and again, and Gwydion's legion set into the enemy's rear. The avatars would fight their way to Moridanu from the outside, in, leaving no enemy standing.

Above the din of battle, Gwydion shouted, "These are all just petty minions! Where is the head of this ugly dragon?!"

[Discord Lasarythe]

<>Of considerable size, very few things looked down on Discord. Though this 7ft wave of earth was one of the few, it had her beat by but a few inches and she threw herself at it at a sprint, springing into the air at precisely the correct moment to land atop it and push off for even more height. She threw out her arm and with a flick of her wrist had the writhing, black whip extending towards Oona’s neck to curl around it again while she descended on the woman like Hell itself. If the whip found its way around her, she’d be pulled forward into the boots aimed at her chest with enough force to drive her ribs straight through her lungs. She pulled this maneuver off all while giggling madly. She had an idea.<>

“Digging a hole, Food? You keep digging you’ll see where Dissy lives. Bring you home for dinner. Down isn’t the only way though. No…no….not the only way….”

<>Regardless of whether or not she connected with Oona, Discord opened herself to dark energy so readily available in the air around them. Once more the whites of her eyes clouded with unnatural darkness as she welcomed it in. It seeped in the gashes covering mangled hands and from them the black acid that was her blood began to gush with startling enthusiasm onto the ground. It pooled and sizzled, but did not sink into the dirt as other liquids would. Instead, as if sentient, the pool thinned into a narrow stream and stretched as it moved to encircle the entire battlefield. Unseen, it darted like an impossibly long snake around obstacles both living and otherwise to meet up with its opposite end, feeding on the endless flood pouring from Discord’s wounds. Once the ring had formed it began to crackle and spark and was suddenly mirrored in the darkening sky, as if a shadow of the one below. Inside this ring the wind picked up in a circular motion that would steadily increase though would likely go unnoticed by those engrossed in battle below.<>

[Queen Pruaga Sorrow]

The Sky was still dark and turbulent; the clouds above were moving far too fast for it to be a natural occurrence. Ash and soot rained from the darkening clouds, but strong rays of sunshine were beginning to penetrate the clouds. It seemed Solanasia was finally answering her servants call.

It didn’t take long for the sunlight to once again be hidden. Black specks began to feel the sky, to the point where there was no light at all. A massive shadow was cast over the battlefield. War cries could be heard in the distance, a mix between a bird of Prey and a woman’s scream. As the figured got closer it began clear what was approaching so rapidly.

The Harpies of the North had finally chosen a side. Queen Pruaga Sorrow was leading her army into war. Pruaga was truly one of the most beautiful creatures ever created, crafted by the old goddess herself, she was like a statue, flawless. The Harpies were of the old world, almost extinct but ever living, immortal.

Pruaga had soft honey coloured skin, her dark eyes were as black as her heart, Once in the old world her heart was full of love and happiness, but witnessing how the world and her race had changed had purged any happiness she once felt, she was a woman deranged, cold and infuriated. Like all Harpies from the North, they looked like a regular highly attractive woman, be it tall and statuesque. Along there muscular arms sprouted millions of long powerful feathers, generally matching the colour of their hair. Instead of human hand and feat, the Harpies had long bird-like fingers and talon, razor sharp.

Pruaga’s long wavy red hair danced around her shoulders. She wore a silver breast plate and a short leather split battle skirt. She held a thick wicked black lance. The end of the blade was almost as sharp as her talons. When she was close enough the battle her booming, bird like voice penetrated the sounds of death.

‘The Harpies of the North have chosen a side, For Lucien!’

She called out with a shrill shriek, the rest of her army screamed in reply and the army fell from above. Pruaga herself flew through the ranks. Her long black talons tore through soldiers. Blood and Gore streaming behind her. She saw her mark.

Her long claws grabbed at Gwydion's wings and armor, she shrieked loudly and expertly spun her lance aiming for the Paladins throat.

[sabis]

'Birds. Lots of birds. Harpies, to be exact, but birds nonetheless. And like any good ranger, hunting of birds is simple sport to him. Arrow after arrow, bolts of lightning all, fly into the sky, each one felling a bird-creature, puncturing a burning hole through their bodies and dropping them from the sky. With a roof over his head and ample FIRING angles but few angles for counterattack provide him a nearly perfect killing position.'

'Between his mighty bow, the enchantments upon it, and his never-ending arrows, the ranger could fell every one of them if he has the time. But he knows an ARMY of such winged beasts will wreak havoc if he has to shoot them down afew at a time, so he begins chanting the words of a spell. It's going to take him afew minutes, considering his other focuses, but the mighty magical power of Nature he's invoking may turn the tide. Between shots he pulls out one arrow, a lonely one that had sat in his quiver unused since the battle was joined, and places it within a crack in the wood so he can grab it easily for the finish of his spell. It's head is heavy metal, it's body specialy shaped and strong, made for long, high flight. His eyes get their electric glow back as he channels immense energies into his spell, his mouth never slowing as he continues his incantation, and oddly enough, the rain has started to grow harder at the same time.'

[Oona Ondessa]

Oona could hardly believe her eyes, she knew the Demon was spry, sure, but this was ridiculous, she evaded the wave with little exertion whatsoever. The spell had taken a little bit out of her, she could feel a particular heaviness in her chest, but her considerable energies were not spent yet, not nearly. Discord moved like a flash, Oona swung her head backwards, arching her back; she instinctively lifted her hand to defend herself, the acidic whip wrapped around her arm, tearing her flesh. She gritted her teeth but was pulled forward. Hitting Oona was like hitting a brick wall, but apparently brick walls meant nothing to Discord. Oona’s face exploded in pain, her neck cracked back sending her body spinning backwards.

She landed in the mud with a groan, she managed to open one eye, lying half buried in the mud was a dead solider, she pried the soldiers sword from his cold dead hands and used it to slice through the whip, the metal immediately began to melt. Silver blood covered the side of Oona’s face; few creatures in the world had managed to spill the elves metallic blood.

Oona cursed herself for being dazed for so long; she heaved herself up onto her feet, stooping slightly. She could feel the dark energies crackling all around her, her own eyes clouded with a pale purple haze, she needed to be able to see the magic and see it she did, she gasped audibly. A black sacred circle was forming; the power was so intense it almost hurt.

‘Discord... no...’

She muttered and spat on the ground. Oona spun around, standing up straight and ignoring the pain.

‘RUN! EVERYONE RUN!’

She called out loudly, as loud as possible; the sky was full of Harpies screeching.

‘RUN YOU FOOLS, GET OUT OF THE CITY!’

She opened a connection to Moridanu concentrating hard on the queen, if she was too engaged in the battle using magic’s of her own; there was a chance she wouldn’t be able to pick up Oona.

<< Queen, you need to run, get out of the city! >>

Oona picked up the blade she had dropped a second ago, its end was melted and jagged, still sharp, she raised it like a dagger and charged at Discord, aiming for the Demons black heart.

[Dark Lord Lucien]

The tide was turning quickly, much quicker than Lucien had planned on. There was a great deal of planning that went into every movement in this War. Years spent, even. Yet it was so ridiculously easy to bring that foundation down. Moridanu was defending her home with all the power she could possess, and her never-ending stream of allies would eventually stall the advance of his party. The demons, trolls, and orcs in this battle would be scattered once the defenders found their backbones. He could not hope to keep them all on task, but he did not need to either. They would cause enough chaos trying to escape, too stupid to realize that the very portal in which Lucien had used to bring them there would reject them upon his command. Their purpose was to die here, and as a pleasant note they might take many of Moridanu's soldiers with them.

Moridanu had launched yet another attack. Her powers were being horribly taxed, yet still they were not her uttermost. She was reserving strength for something decisive. And no doubt her role as a leader and not as a duelist complicated the fight. She had to hold back, for fear of hurting her allies. He smiled, grim and cold. That was her undoing. He had baited her, hoping she would tire easily and leave her too weakened to prevent him from killing those closest to her. So far, he had been right in that in her desperation to protect her city and loved ones, she had expended more energy than she normally would have to defeat him. What he had not counted on was the timely arrival of many allied forces to help the Morthikans. It... complicated things.

Still, he could make the most of this dashing raid on her city. Despite his best-laid plans crumbling under him like the earth had only moments ago, he was elated. His dark heart, which was not moved by much in this world, had wings. This was his element - chaos, revenge, domination. Those who are coldest in the heart often make the most of brief moments of heat. Passion explodes within them, causing them to live for real, even if only for a bit. Lucien was like that. A true loner, he had no idea of the feelings of others save for that they were convenient tools to be exploited. Himself, he chose to believe he lacked those lesser failings. But when the passion had ahold of him, he was an entirely different being. His dark eyes glinted in the fires, his white teeth seeming predatory in the vivid light.

Let them come, he thought. I shall cast aside my allies and show them my true power. Let them grovel as they should. Let them know death and fear and let it be seen as my face in the dark. Together, they feel as though they can withstand the darkness, but it is coming. I am power incarnate. To defy me is to defy Fate itself!

In his fervor, he barely noticed the ash elemental appear. A being of smoldering heat and soot, it loomed before him like an oppressive shadow. Nearly as wide as it was tall, it was like a living brick wall come to prevent him from attacking further. The black claws came across, ash streaking in the air. Lucien ducked instinctively, the force of the blow nearly staggering him. You nearly had me, Mori, he thought. The elemental's red eyes burned like the pits of Hell, and it emitted a thick smoke from its rasping maw. Lucien fell back, knowing that he had to tackle this foe carefully. He could still feel the presence of the dragon circling above, waiting. He was boxed in quite cleverly.

The ash creature came on for another attack. Lucien focused a bit of his mental energy into a field in front of him, meaning to absorb the impact of another melee attack. He snarled in his efforts - each mental attack sapped a decent amount of the pool of psionic energy he had at his disposal. Unlike most psionics he had learned to supplement his reserves by feeding on the minds of others and by storing excess in an amulet he wore under his armor. That very same amulet glowed a dim blue as it expelled some of its mental energy to assist his defense. He could not keep this up forever, and expending energy to destroy the elemental without getting blasted by the dragon was going to be difficult. Very difficult.

Contrary to popular belief, Lucien was not a magician. He did not even have the basic talent for magic like your average court magician or a traveling wizard. Afflicted from birth to be essentially crippled in the art to practice magic, he instead had come by his current mental gift. He recreated many magical spells and effects through the use of his mental abilities, twisting the very elements to make a fire, or to crush a rock, or to spin the winds at his command. But in the end, he knew he could not hope to use the very natural weave of magic innate in most beings to make such things happened. He was forever at a disadvantage here. So he learned to hone his psionics to a level not seen before, surpassing even the mindflayers of the lands below or the monks of the High Pass. His one true passion was obtaining that power which was wrongfully denied to him. In his lifetime, he also expended much energy and time to acquire magicians for his armies, and magical artifacts he could use and exploit. Generally, he learned enough from his magicians and the artifacts to duplicate their powers with his own, and only used them as backups or not at all. Like unwanted toys, powerful artifacts littered his study.

Some, however, he kept on his person in case they were ever needed. Despite his pride in his abilities of the mind, Lucien was too practical to avoid keeping some artifacts around in case of emergency. Before his raid, he had hand-picked among them a few which he felt might come in handy, mostly for theatrics. He had not expected to use any of them in combat. How he wished he had chosen more creatively. Imagine how much fun it would have been had he brought his lich's ring about? Or the stone which could cause insanity in those who looked in to it? Or even the dart which pierced through all armors and always came back to the hand which threw it? His toy collection would have made short work of this elemental. But alas - he was under-equipped for the outing.

The force of the mental barrier absorbed the next strike, the ash elemental's claws gliding off amidst blue sparks. The creature roars in outrage, determined not to be denied its satisfaction. Lucien's right hand dipped into his armor and pulled out a single charm - a black diamond, wrapped in what appeared to be old bone. A curious gem, he spoke a command word and blew on the stone casually. A black cloud began to emanate from it, building up and into the clouds. The ash elemental's next blow jarred his defense and drove him back, his black boots digging into the soft ground. But the action had been a success, and he was not worried about tackling the elemental anymore.

In the skies, Mitredaur circled, ever anxious. The great dragon was wise, and well battled, and knew its position in this battle was crucial. The opportunity to end the War was close. But victory was denied the dragon this day as the cloud from Lucien's charm ascended into the sky and began to take shape. The dragon was not stupid, and reared back to get its bearings. The cloud gathered quickly, taking a definite sinister shape. The otherworldly figure became solid in a few blinks of an eye then, and a horrible shadow extended out as it spread its wings. A shadow dragon had been called from the Netherrealm. Onyx-eyed and evil, it shrieked like the voice of Death itself before swooping forward to engage the venerable Mitredaur.

Lucien laughed, everything once again leveling out in his favor. The surrounding setbacks of his forces did nothing to ruin his mood, even though he was aware of the presence of paladins, and the winged folk supporting her forces. He knew that the Harpies would come to play soon, and they would be fine partners indeed to help spread more chaos. He concentrated more of his mental energy into the psionic barrier, sapping the amulet under his armor entirely, its blue light going dark due to lack of reserves. The force of the barrier pushing back caused the ash elemental to vanish and reappear behind him, claws coming up for another attack.

Lucien brought his hands up above his hand, and with a tremendous crash brought his gauntlets together. The stored mental energy released like a burst bubble, the shockwave extending out from around his body and shooting up the ground all around. Nearby soldiers and his troops alike were tossed by the kinetic energy of his attack, the very ground beneath him blasted and cratered. The elemental fell back. Despite the strong spell keeping its form together, the point-blank range of the attack had nearly maimed it. Damaged claws receded back into the soot-filled mass, a howl of pain carrying in the air above the destruction. The elemental came on again, relentless despite the attack, and Lucien grinned.

"You should run when you are beaten." He said simply, while conjuring up some more of his mental reserves. Tapping his own powers was noticeable in that he showed some restraint. One wrong move could mean leaving himself exposed and weakened. No, another kinetic barrier would not work. He needed to improvise.

Bringing his mailed fists together symbolically, the ash elemental found itself encased in a sphere of mental energy, completely benign and thus needing little energy from the dark lord. Confused, the creature attempted to swipe its way out, the actual size of the sphere restricting the creature's attacks. While Lucien was certain the sphere would not hold out much longer from the blows, he also knew it did not need to - he already had a plan in motion. He raised the sphere, levitating himself. The two climbed into the air as casual as though it were in their very natures to float up and away. Hovering above the battlefield, Lucien spread his hands, his fingers fanning out. The psionic sphere trapping the elemental spun like a top, and with a twist of his hand, was sent spiraling dangerously at the line of concentrated paladins lining up to defend the Morthikans in their retreat.

A pity,, he thought. Retreats always make for such good slaughters.

The imprisoned ash creature flew into the concentrated ranks, smashing through them and using up the focused energy which maintained the shield which kept it trapped. Unsettled and loose, the ash elemental's nearness to the troops jeopardized the defensive line, and caused chaos as intended. Lucien fell easily to the earth under his own power, smiling in satisfaction.

A good show, he mused. And I have the best seats in the house, naturally.

[sabis]

(Posting as Ollan)

'His warriors were holding their lines, using tight formations and their honed tactics to fight back the hordes of orcs, trolls, and demonkin. But that blow from Lucien tore one of his flanks apart, and killed more then two score of his warriors, his brethren. His kin. And while not truly of dwarf blood, a dwarf he was raised, and to dwarves, kin and kind above all else.'

'His eyes go bloodshot his rage intensifies so much, and with a roar and a swing of his hammer, his boys launch a counter-offensive. He leaves a hundred of his best to help cover the retreat, the remaining two hundred, ten score dwarven warriors and their support, charge forward into the ranks of foes, packed tightly into a wedge and splitting apart the opposing army. Several fall, always replaced in the tight lines by another. A war commander makes his way to the head of the line, and with a great roar to Moradin, Ollan lets his long legs speed him up, the immense man leaving the pack and heading straight for Lucien.'

'He's tremendous for a man, nearly the size of a giant, with the strength of any two giants one could meet, and a hammer that could shatter anicnet, thick oaks. His eyes are nearly red with rage at the one who killed so many of his kin, his rage nearly blinding him of everything else, save for his focus on Lucien. Any foe in his way is slain, easily and usually with a wide sweep of his maul. Once he has a clear enough path, he starts his battle charge, hammer raised, rage-filled, his muscles tightening into big, thick cords as he lets out a shout to his Gods, bringing the hammer at the man with every intent of splattering him across the ground there and then, not even thinking about spells, trickery, or even his own defense. He has but one goal, one focus, one NEED in his life now, to kill Lucien.'

[Gwydion Shadowbane]

The harpy's claws passed through fiery wings, their incredible heat enough to melt steel and incinerate the flesh of wicked creatures. The ebon lance passed easily through the back of the paladin's spine, bursting out the front of his throat. The paladin hung, transfixed upon the point of the beast's weapon, and shuddered briefly...

...before shattering into a thousand pieces of mirrored glass, the shards raining down into the ranks of battling warriors below. A single mote of brilliant energy drifted slowly toward the killing grounds below, before being caught on a breeze that carried it off into the distance.

The harpies' charge swiftly caught the attention of the mirror-legion. As one, they turned to face the new threat with fierce cries and raised weapons. The avatars rose up, flaming wings drawing them skyward to take the battle to the enemy. Furious combat ensued. The sound of shattering glass mingled with the screams of dying bird-women as the two forces set into one another ferociously.

Drifting above the Queen Moridanu, Gwydion felt each avatar's destruction like a blow to his own body. Each mote of light that emerged from the ruined glass returned to Gwydion, and these he directed to Moridanu, to bring her fresh energy and life. His eyes fell upon she who first destroyed his avatar. He watched her beautiful, terrible form spread destruction even as his mind drifted back to a lesson he had received in his days at the Temple of Solanasia.

"...thus, we do not hate demons. They are spawned fully-formed, without free will or say in their creation." Lord Hielbrast paced before the assembled students, his drooping mustache swaying with each step. His lectures were the subject of much controversy among the more learned members of the Order; rather than strictly teaching Church-approved material, he would include his own ideas and reflections, which the Ministers would frown on. Hielbrast was too well-respected among the militant branches to have his position threatened, and cared not at all what the scholarly had to say.

"It is not our purpose to eradicate evil." A few of the young knights in attendance gasped or muttered under their breath at this, but were quickly silenced by a glare from the proctor. "If we ever succeeded in doing so, which we cannot, the Balance would be forever upset, and the world cast into rigid, unbending order. Without Balance, life cannot thrive. So says the Goddess."

"However..." Hielbrast paused, one hand stroking his mustache contemplatively. "There are those that are created evil, brought into the universe for the purpose of making evil. And then there are those that are not born evil, but choose evil." The proctor's voice took on a steel edge. "These wretched beasts are worthy of our hate. Harpies, for example. Created as figures of joy for the human form made capable for flight, to be living testaments to the ingenious creativity of the gods of Good. And still they choose to walk the path of darkness, hearts full of spite and malice. Hate the harpies, my boys, and all their ilk."


Harpies... Gwydion heaved a sigh, his heart heavy with sorrow. These were once creatures of light, but chose to wander forever lost in darkness. He did not hate the beasts, as Hielbrast had said he should. Gwydion pitied them greatest of all, and mourned for the beings they used to be. The light of his brand flickered briefly, then flared again, bright and hot. Gwydion set his jaw and steadied his nerve. If these misguided beings chose to do battle this day, he would bring them release from their miserable existence. The legion of mirror-paladins cried out, again as one, and redoubled their furious assault against the harpy flight. Gwydion himself remained by Moridanu's side, determined to defend her from the approaching Darkness, but concentrated his efforts on bringing peace to the troubled souls of the harpies.

[Queen Pruaga Sorrow]

Her sisters fell.

Pruaga’s heart thumped rapidly, each of her sisters had a story, had lived for eternity. Harpies were quite unlike any other creature in Morthika, the old gods had created them in a time before there was magic, before man and there metals and tools. As a result they were highly resistant to all forms of magic, they were immortal of course, at least to age. When a Harpy reached a certain age, she would know if it was time to lay an egg, the egg would gestate for 3 months, the Harpy lays the egg and cares for it for another 3. The Process is so taxing Harpies are only able to lay one egg there entire lives, to try to lay another is almost certain death. Pruaga hadn’t decided to lay her egg yet, perhaps she never would. But her sisters were dying around her. They were all family, all connected.

Harpies didn’t wield magic, due to there resistance to it, but they did possess there own type of ‘magic’ it was what kept them afloat, not there wings, be it powerful. Pruaga’s talons raked across the Paladins wings, she hissed in pain, lifting her burnt feet up, she lifted higher off the ground, clenching and loosening the savage claws in pain.

‘Sisters!’

She called, her deep raspy voice, loud and booming.

‘Let’s show these mortal fools the full force of a Harpies war cry!’

She screeched loudly. When the old gods created the Harpies, they created a sister for her, the much maligned Sirens, not many of them still existed in the pure form, they shared a skill. Pruaga began to shriek, her call sounded like a mix between a human scream, a whistle and a bird of prey, but the sound was immensely loud, all the Harpies joined in, the sound was terrible, deafening. Loud enough to confuse and pop ear drums. The Harpies were rising higher into the sky.

‘The Archer!’

Pruaga called out through the shrieks, her sisters didn’t have to hear her to see there target, the sky was blanket as hundreds of lances flew towards Sabis.

[Camus]

Camus couldn’t wait any longer, if any of them were going to make it out of town alive, they needed to move fast.

‘Quickly, back into the tunnel, you’ll be killed and so will that babe!’

He urged the wolf girl, his voice rising in panic at the thought of that baby being slaughtered. They weren’t in the heart of the battle, but Goblins and ogres were stupid creatures, many had wandered off to pick at the carcasses. Sometimes they were more dangerous separated than together. Camus urged the wolf girl forward, before lowering the enchanted boulder over there exit. Immediately they were shrouded in the darkness.

‘Whis’watch Tum’charra’

Camus spoke softly. Immediately the tunnel was illuminated with tiny green fireflies that flitted at the ceiling. The ancient tunnel was fortified by large beautifully crafted chunks of lumber, each inscribed to provide a certain enhancement.

‘Let’s go’

Camus said softly, taking the lead, he followed the group through the winding tunnels; his hooves thudded gently against the soft earth below. The earth above and below began to rumble, a faint red glow could be seen at the ceiling, slowly making it’s way down the tunnel, debris began to fall from the ceiling.

‘Discords spell... whatever she’s doing, it’s big- ‘

Before he finished his sentence, a large quake from below knocked Camus off his feet, a large chunk of the ceiling collapsed, several Goblins fell through, they were eating the carcass of what looked like one of Moridanu’s soldiers. The Goblin salivated at his new find. The closest lunged towards the group. Camus still on the ground, lifted his power hoof upwards, catching the Goblin in the chin, his neck cracked backwards. Camus quickly got to his feet and spun his staff, he brought it to the ground and tilted it towards the Goblin, his earth red tattoos began to blow around his bare shoulders. Large thick roots sprung from earth and wrapped around the Goblin, dragging him towards the hole in the ceiling, the Goblin was held in place, dead and blocking the hole.

‘We have to keep moving’

He said urgently, the tunnel was still rumbling and shaking severely. They didn’t have far to go however, at the end of the tunnel was a large circular silver and gold door. It was metallic. Camus knocked on the door three times. A voice called from behind the door.

‘Each of you state your names!’

[sabis]

'He continues his casting as he dodges through the bell tower. It's large enough that it could provide him nearly total cover if he had to, but that would defeat him as surely as the lances would. The shrieking hurts, it would likely fell a less sturdy man, but Sabis is no ordinary man. His kind are too strong for that. He keeps his chanting up, ducking and dodging the lances as best he can, until he roars the final word of his spell, a shout powerful enough that it drowns out the shrieking for a moment as the energy provided by his own nature and Mother Nature combine.

'He yanks his special arrow from where it lay and strings it, rapidly, and aims straight up. When loosed, it doesn't even touch the roof of the tower, but blasts it apart before striking, rocketing straight for the sky above the center of town. Though he has no cover and now has to contend with the lances himself, his duty is done. The arrow is heavily enchanted now, and nature will do his will. And his will, is a storm. A storm unlike any other. The arrow disappears in the clouds he created earlier, and a dull rumble of thunder rolls first, followed seconds later by a BLAST of thunder, not only loud and powerful, but with enough sonic force to knock even the nimble ranger to his feet momentarily. Following that blast, comes the lightning. Not simple sky to ground bolts of energy. This is a directed storm. The first blast of lightning to emenate from the slouds tears a great hole in the center of the highest density pocket of the harpies, frying several and severely wounding the other nearby. The ranger looks up at his work with a smile before a lance hits him in the back of his left shoulder.'

'Knocked prone, the ranger gets another in the left ribs, from the rear again. He manages to push himself up and races hard as he can for the ledge, leaping free... and getting another lance in the back, this time above and towards the spine from his right hip. He makes it free of the tower, but the thirty foot fall to the ground is certainly not enjoyable, nor is the hard belly-flop that leaves the man still. His aura greatly diminishes, but the supernatural beings that fealt him before could feel him still, though now only at a range of less then a hundred yards, opposed to the nearly half mile he had before.'

*Edit: 'But his spell continues on without him. The lightning is growing strong, more frequant, and is apperantly intelligent. Not only is it's aim deadly, but it's targetting is brilliant, firing off only at dense pockets of harpies.... or at least inside town that's all. Outside, past the lines of the town's defenders, the lightning blows great chunks of ground away as it rages across the fields, destroying vast amounts of demons, orcs, trolls, and their ilk at Lucien's side. While such a spell may not kill the great demon king, it certainly diminishes his army greatly.'

[Diseera Lefond]

Diseera watched as her surroundings were enveloped in darkness. She blinked, her eyes not used to the darkness. She could hear the faint whispers of the faun when the tunnels were suddenly illuminated by bright green fireflies. Diseera shielded her eyes because she had begun to grow used to the shadows and the sudden light blinded her.

Diseera blinked a bit trying to adjust herself to the green glow when the faun began urging the group to walk once again. Diseera, knowing there wasn't much she could really do now and not knowing where the tunnels led to, followed after him. His hooves hitting th earthy ground soothed her a bit but when the ceiling began to shake, she had to place her hands on the wall to support herself. Whatever was going on was something big. The creature leading the group began to speak but before he could finish his sentence, the ceiling caved in and a group of goblins fell through gnawing on a carcass of a soldier. Diseera winced at the sight but then grabbed at her bow and arrow. There wasn't much she could do as the faun took care of it but she kept the bow in her grip in case anything else jumped out at them.

They continued walking down until they reached a door of gold and silver. It was circular and metallic and put Diseera in a state of awe. A deep booming voice suddenly rang out asking for their names and Diseera remained speechless. She wasn't sure whether to give her name or not. What would happen if she did? What if she was not supposed to be there? All these questions flooded her mind and left her quiet.