Vaude

Hurst cackled a wicked laugh as he overheard Kolm's comment, lights glowing ominously from within the deep pits of his orbits as he braced for Kolm's attack. With such a rush on uneasy feet, the weapon was easy to predict and catch with his free left hand, holding the mace tightly in his skeletal grip. However, as he raised his right hand high to deliver a sword blow to the caught blood mage, he found his shoulder and arm inoperable, frozen solid by the runic magic. He could still channel magic, but he was unable to move his arm from the wrist up. The flames within his eyes shrank as he realised that he was the rat in the trap now, and not in reverse. He attempted to push his floating body forward with telekinesis and tried to overpower Kolm with extra force, attempting to push the mace back at the boy. If successful, he would aim an attack with the mace towards Kolm's neck before flying away a safe distance to lick his wounds. A soft white glow covered the frozen area. In life, he used qi, the body's life force, to restore himself of physical ailments. In death, qi was limited in use and took much time to restore himself completely. He eyed Kolm carefully, now more wary and mindful than to open himself up to attacks like that. ~~ ~~ ~~ Pang turned to look toward Ceres, at first with surprise but later with understanding and a weak smile. "I would appreciate that, Ceres, thank you," he voiced, relief flowing through him, and yet worry as well. "Watch out for him. He has doomsteel on him and can control flames, but I know you can handle both effectively." Yilwach laughed weakly from his position on the ground, fire magic wrapping his hands as he struggled to keep the fire controlled enough to use. Unfortunately for him, his utilisation of fire magic was strongly connected to breathed air, and his lungs were collapsed. He was not a threat any longer, but still he struggled to regain his strength and destroy the living. If not for duty, it was for revenge, and he glared at the two fiercely. Pang placed a large hand on Ceres' shoulder as a show of thanks before jogging towards Aprameia's location, ready to help finish what the others had started. ~~ ~~ ~~ Aprameia stirred in shock at the hex beast's regenerating is limb in such a short amount of time, the idea of Galla turning all of the powers of her assets into two weapons quickly coming to mind. It was a powerful ability, one which she still had yet to master, but she had little time to think about such things. The wanderer skeletal servant did not allow her much of a free moment to think, and she chiefly aimed to dodge the hefty blows of this swordsman, narrowly escaping having her whole hand cut off but losing almost half of it from a diagonal blow. Its speed had increased beyond that of a typical servant, she understood too late, but that did not prevent her from casting a close-range tornado from her remaining injured hand in the direction of the wanderer. If striking true, it could potentially blow the wanderer apart or knock him back a great distance, allowing her some time to recuperate if Henry did not declare an attack before she escaped. Then again, the descending hex beast had something to say, divebombing with a crushing assault with a debilitating field of sapping magic around it. She could not dodge in time and was smashed against the ground underneath the giant monstrosity of a beast, only the phylactery keeping her alive, the amulet lying in between the creature's ribs as a stroke of luck. Her breath was ragged. Every bone in her body was either disjointed, cut off, or broken except for those in her head. Her magic reserves were erased and would take a chunk of time more than what she could muster to restore enough to mend her wounds together to perfection. In short, she was out for the count, a mere broken body as she fought to stay alive. Pang soon approached, impressed by the sheer strength of Henry and Galla as they took down the leader of the undead horde. Upon closer inspection, he could see that this was indeed Aprameia, but her crumbled form was just as alien to him as it was familiar. Pausing to take a breath, fearing the inevitable, he stepped forward a little more, hoping to get her attention, as well as the others. "Galla, Henry, if you don't mind, I would like to end this myself, as well as talk with her for a bit. If . . . you don't mind." The words throbbed in his parched throat, fighting to be said and heard against the difficulties posed against him. His eyes never left hers as she looked up at him. The longer he did this, the more and more he found out that she did not consider him alien. Within the apple of her eye, she recognised him. ((I will post for the forest group shortly upon having more time.))

- Rufus, Free!~ - Rufus rose to his feet, unsure of what to do with himself among the hyperpowered assaults on everyone. He tried his best on Ahriman and found that he could not quash the magical strength of the man by much, just a small portion due to the immense strength of the Source. However, things ended abruptly under the draining attribute of the magic suppression field, powers fading into nonexistence at times and others into paltry forms of what they once were. As if things weren't bad enough, Ahriman snatched his much-hated lava lamp home and had the epiphany of making wishes upon it as well. He swallowed hard as he felt the eyes of the mad deity lay hard on him, wishing two wishes he did not quite expect, one after the other as an act of defiance to everyone around him. His hands moved against his volition, but his lips were fully his own. "Had I a way to control exactly where your aspect will go after your death, I will send you to the greatest pit of hate out there where you will buddy-buddy with Mr. Flame! Being as I can't, thou wicked proclaimer of wishes, your request is reluctantly given!" With the smell of strawberry-flavoured donuts and sprinkles mixed with waxy vanilla candles, an audible "YEA, VERILY" could be heard before Ahriman would feel the tingling sensation of forever-ness, a quiet, quaint thing of assured survival. The second wish, however, took him entirely by surprise, and his hands moved again in wild motions that drained him physically and mentally. "No! Not now! I must . . . fight . . . by providing wishes for everyone against you!" His pleas were for naught, however, as even though his will was strongly against it the driven forces of magicks beyond human ken were superior. Great forces strained his body as he contorted and twisted. In the end of five seconds, his shackles were broken, the tie from his hair ethereally connecting him with the lamp severed. Now the lamp was just like any other, fragile, pathetic, and no longer glowing with life as the wax lava cooled and floated downwards. Exhausted and pallid, lying on the ground panting, he raised his hate-filled eyes to meet Ahriman. A hand outstretched, he aimed to quell his magical forces anew, and to his and perhaps Ahriman's surprise, he did very decently. With his shackles off, he was able to channel the flow of magic more effectively, this time in the form of a siphon. "Everyone, I can keep him just as restricted as we are for a time!" he piped to all who would listen, lifting himself sluggishly to his feet and moving backwards in an attempt to keep away from Ahriman. He did not want to test exactly how mortal he was. "Finish him before he finishes us! Master of my prison for five seconds, your smug stupid dummy smugness will end soon!" ((Rufus now is free and can temporarily restrict Ahriman of 25-50% of his magical control, weakening his magical attacks and defenses. Like Kuni said before, let 'im have it so we can grace a world free from a grinning false god. The more physical and the trickier, the better, I daresay. This restriction will begin at the start of everyone's attack on him, for added benefit for all.)) - Ahriman, One against Many - Ahriman honestly could have cared less about the commentary tossed his way from Rufus (his eardrums were slowly healing from the damage from before, allowing him to hear muffled versions of everything said and , but he was not pleased by his slight restriction on his magic, feeling the sluggishness of energy as he attempted to force it to his whim. No, not pleased at all. What was the opposite of pleased? Right. Displeasure. He had much of it. Such displeasure was augmented when the forces of Soren, Mariel, and the beam attack intended for Yevgeni rushed towards him with driven resolve, Mariel first with a forceful punch which he parried with a sweep of his clenched arm, the attack sent high and its destructive forces spent mostly in the air but also on the impact area of his arm. Said blow would end up as a wide and deep bruise, but the deflected beam came in and barrelled into him simultaneously as the scything motion of her angelic wing, tripping him up and burdening him with a great amount of damage on his lower torso, rattling his ribcage and readying him for an assault by the lover of cupcakes, Soren. Falling awkwardly to the ground, he caught himself successfully shortly thereafter and put great effort into tripping up Mariel as well. A hooking arm from his uninjured side swung intently towards Mariel's nearby leg to cause her to tumble, and he rushed to his feet in order to shield himself from Soren's wild strikes of his flaming sword with manifested Void and electric energies. The knitted shield was fragile at best, and the heavy blows of the greatsword battered the shield deeply as well as his arm. Both arms injured by this two-pronged strike, Ahriman backed off with a look of frustration, his eyes darting towards everyone around him as he prepared his open hands for anything and everything inbound toward him (he lost his greatsword in his mad dash for Rufus' lava lamp). The lava beast known as Arthynn burst out of a nice pool of melted rock and cooled itself enough to keep it as rock armour, then rallied a tail swipe after a leap into the air. Ahriman did what any right- or wrong-minded fleshy being would do, rushing away from the scaly behemoth with a mighty backwards leap that now loomed overhead with lava dribbling down it and hardening. He snarled as much as the beast, eyes filled with irritation. "Die, beastie-boy!" he bellowed, raising his hands into the air and aiming a manifesting body of Void magic and malevolence to form over Arthynn's head, the intent to smash him from above with a crushing force that will explode soon afterwards under great pressure and eat into the combined form's armour enough to attack their real bodies. Blocking would be difficult but possible, as it was solid, but avoidance was probably the better option. That's when Elia, with her haste-bound arrow, proved extremely, extremely valuable. The kicked-off shot, further enforced by extreme precision from Stopga, launched the strike true to Ahriman's underarm, stabbing with full force into the fragile area and penetrating between ribs. That was not even half of the danger, however, as the bound spell unleashed within him, hasting his cellular regeneration and deterioration and expending massive amounts of energy within him as a result. He howled in pain and rage as the fought with the arrow, wresting it from the wounded area, but it was too late. The surging power within him would not leave, not without waiting the allotted period of time until it ends or it was nullified entirely. But how would he do so? He did not have a single idea, not within Odin's vast amount of procured knowledge, nor within the many, many years of experience from Nergal. Ahriman was left to his own devices here, but could he manage such an act while fending off against all these individuals. Breathing laboured, he glanced angrily at the wounded fairy, snarling in rage. "I will kill you in the worst way, diminutive fey, and all your kind, and all here! Forget the plan! None shall be spared now!" he shrieked venomously, manifesting five beams of light pronging from all five fingertips of his extended hand. While low in power thanks to Rufus and the consumed energy within him by Elia's magic, they rocketed off at Elia. She could dodge, but they would not be enough to break through Aqua's barrier magic even if they did reach her. If such happens, Ahriman would look dumbfounded at the results, leaving him open for further attacks.

Yeah . . . the battle is a bit protractive, that is for certain. Please rest assured that things will be ending quick, and I mean quick. I'll be posting shortly so things aren't dragged on for another week (after a nice bit of sleep, as my eyelids are sagging to the floorboards right now). Sorry as well for my part of the issue. I hope to remediate this so that everyone is contented in the end, even with all of these unforeseen pitfalls, so please bear with me a little while longer. On a separate note, I feel saddened that I may not have mentioned this, but the Sanguis Vindicta was very interesting. A blood defense is a bold and innovative idea, even if one of the mightiest flaws of the technique was a berserkergang of sorts, and I loved its implementation. Sadly I had no techniques to aid Mariel with Raiden/Odin gone, elsewise I would have attempted to assist.

Death. ×_× I am kidding, of course, but I think the comment might have been intended for Pang and not Henry regarding the patrician crumpled on the ground and Aprameia. I was puzzling over this myself.

- Pang, Yilwach, and Fitzjerome - Pang was shocked when he saw an anti-necromancy blade pierce through the battlefield and ending in Fitzjerome's shoulder, causing the undead to howl in rage as its arm was cloven off with healing, holy energies, decaying into nothingness. The rest of Fitzjerome was little better off. Decay occurred in a growing patch as the the magic surged even further into his body, and soon enough he was little more than a head and legs amidst armour, the rest of him gone and dusted. Silent rage burned within him as he stared up at both Ceres and Pang, the glow within his eyes dulling to a regular white. His teeth gnashed against each other as he moved his jaw in effort to speak, but without lungs or even functioning vocal cords he could only clatter. Pang stepped up to him first, as Yilwach could wait his turn. Enough damage was implemented to prevent him from moving very much. "Boastful until a second death, and filled with rage -- I suppose it is right for a monk like myself to give you the solace your body craves and inter you, half-dragon." More clattering could be heard from the undead head, face contorting with many emotions. Pang looked over to Ceres with a smile. "My thanks, Ceres. I would have had a difficult time with this one otherwise. Now, to business." Pulling his glove taut, he approached Fitzjerome and lowered his palm onto the large, chattering head over Fitzjerome's visage, grasping it tightly. The fire magic interlaced within the fabric of the glove did the rest, and the noise ceased. "One down, one more to go, and then we are off to the big prize. Aprameia . . . please let it be me that sends you off to your rightful destination," Pang murmured under his breath, more a prayer than anything else. - Winona, Hurst, and Nero - Kolm's great feat performed by blood magic escaped Winona's viewing thanks to the clever cover of Galla's smoke, and two new shapes appeared from within the billowing haze, supporting him in the efforts of trying to take down the one she was aiming for (Hurst). The other (Nero), a gloomy, unwoken firebrand of a man once feared by many, was quickly taken by surprise by Kolm and ended up being frozen in place, unable to move anything more than his sword arm towards Kolm before being incarcerated. He still exuded the black aura of unhealing from his body and the ice, but that stopped upon his shattering. Not even the undead can handle a hasty shattering upon being frozen, and a great amount of ice particulate scattered across the ground. The other patrician lifted an eyebrow in surprise at his companion's sudden departure to the afterlife, but that was all the expression he wasted upon him. Truthfully, it was Kolm that astounded him, especially the slit on his wrist that dribbled down blood, and his deeply pitted eyes lit up with intrigue. "There's a unique mage," he brought to whisper before being sidetracked by thrown shields and inbound spears gripped with two hands, as was vastly intended for the weapon. He dodged the flung defenses stiffly, using levitation to move about -- as he was telekinetic within short distances -- and brought out his blade, aiming a slicing blow upon dodging the first spear at the spearman's head, and deflecting the second with a well-timed strike to throw off his attacker. "Hmph, lesser undead hold no threat to one such as I," intoned Hurst, words of power streaming from his mouth. He stretched out a long, bony finger towards both attackers. "Greater Turn Undead." If their bond to Galla was not adamant, Galla's underlings would feel compelled to flee the field of battle, probably in the direction of the swamp where they would probably be lost to the elements. If they were immune, they had a moment of opportunity to strike out at Hurst before he understood that this was so. - Aprameia - Aprameia had a mild annoyance towards being shot at by an undead archer, one arrow whizzing past her chest as she narrowly dodged, and the other being redirected away from her in a freshly summoned gust of wind. This was enough of a distraction as the Hex Beast aimed new strikes in her direction, snapping its mighty jaws upon her and afterwards taking flight. Worse yet, Henry and the washing pole swordsman directed assaults at her in a pincer attack. She had to let go of the storm to be able to dodge this flurry of blows halfway through, and let go she did. The wind blasts Henry launched in her direction, mighty gusts all, which she dodged as Henry planned. Upon realising that he was close, she lashed out with a billowing surge of water and wind, but he dodged about her by somersaultng over her head. Wind? That was her specialty, and yet she did not have the capabilities that this swordsman did. She tried her best to keep both combatants in her sights as she stepped to the side of both Henry and the inbound skeleton, and when both lashed out at her, Henry with wind slashes and Skeletor with a mighty cleave, she was faced with a challenge, one she was ultimately going to lose. Bracing her hands up in both directions, she unleashed a shielding force of wind pressure that shoved the wind-based strikes Henry made up into the air. The massive boost of power given to the skeleton, however, was unprecedented, and his strengthened slash carved through the barrier of wind pressure and next through her arm at a diagonal. No blood was lost from Aprameia, being undead, but she clutched at her stump of an arm and backed away, ire smoldering within her gaze, and yet joy as well. It was as if she were begging to be destroyed, even though her body rebelled. The descending hex beast reminded her of the dire situation at hand and snapped her out of her dichotomy, and she raised her remaining hand towards the sky, letting the thunder rumble overhead before the collective energies of three chafing clouds caused a lightning bolt to strike downwards. If the Hex Beast could not dodge in time, a terrific amount of electricity would assuredly rip a hole into its lower torso and maybe a wing. If not, the lightning bolt was angled so that it would strike close to Henry, potentially stunning him with the sight and sound of a lightning strike. ~~ ~~ ~~ - In the Forest - Hogarth looked about for a time and smiled at the group's accomplishments within even an hour's time They gathered much of the necessary materials, fought a grave number of ugly plant people, nearly lit the forest on fire, and he managed to collect a few impure nature essences while he was at it, bottling them up for later when he can refine them. The most feisty ones were the giant arthropods, the grasshoppers springing left right and sideways, but with a few more of his tools he cut them down and picked up the remainders. Nothing said they needed to be alive, though he was certain they would lose some usefulness this way. Beggars cannot be choosers, however, and he made his way to the others. "All right, everyone, it is nearing the end of our time here. How about we make our way back? Being in my room snoozing seems mighty pleasant after spending even an hour in this wild and untamed forest. Any arguments from anyone?" he spoke to Rhiannon, Hektor, and maybe Reksis if he were near. He could never manage to keep an eye on that one. He moved too much, him and his Ghost.

- Ahriman, Paragon of an Unbalanced Mind - Ahriman looked on at his foes, seeing them enriched by power and feeling as if they could win. What imbecilic natures these lesser beings were, thinking that they could defeat someone with as much power as he had right now. He cackled as he slipped to the side of Helios' beam attack and ran towards him, hand outstretched so that it grazed the outside of the beam and gathered residual energies in his hand. What burns that lay within his hand was nothing to him, the pain a euphoric sensation as he skittered ever closer to the shapeshifter. "Return to sender!" he shouted with glee as he thrust his outstretched hand toward Helios, his attack aimed for the exposed neck of the being. The gathered pain of the energy will be reciprocated to Helios if he were struck, possibly injuring the poor Spriggan further with much raw strength behind the blow. Whether this was successful or not, he aimed next toward Soren, intending with great passion to correct the evils of his stabbing Ahriman in the back in full with his death. With a speedy rush of electricity and adrenaline, he surged toward the demonic cupcake lover and aimed a reckless assault with not one but two manifested blades of Void make, three strikes each weapon as he pirouetted overhead and rallied with another assault of two even quicker diagonal strikes aimed for his legs first and midsection next. Enhancement or not, he would give Soren a run for his money with an onslaught of blows. That's when the sonic blast made by Mariel and the rest of the heavenly hosts came into play, inspiring the newfound mad deity to look her way and sneer. What would a breathless angel perform against his might? he would think to himself, but upon feeling the brunt of the sonic blow and witnessing the shattering of his weapons he could quickly understand the sheer strength of her controlled cone. His eardrums burst under their cacophony, inspiring blood to well up from his ears, but eardrums to him were just another thing to grow, and he escaped the danger with more than a few ruptures in his skin, especially at his face and exposed upper torso. Eventually he would regain his ability to hear as they would regenerate, though it would not be immediate. For now he would have to bear with the annoyance of having to read lips and feel everything around him instead of hear it. "Old magicks, come forth and meld with new! Portato! Undignama! Feeblemind!" he shouted, firing off a stream of malevolence from the same hand as what he gathered Helios' beam with. This malevolence, this pitch-black force, would launch towards Mariel very quickly and, if striking, would drain her of sense, intelligence, and personality, preventing spellcasting and rendering her limited in thought for a time. This would be very dangerous for a debilitation, so Mariel had better find a way to either protect herself or dodge the attack outright. While fast, it could be dodged effectively with enough speed and quickness of mind. Yevgeni's stabbing maneuver came next, and Ahriman now turned towards him and aimed shattering strikes at Yevgeni's rapier, intending to cleave the blade of the rapier almost down to the hilt. The jump overhead took him by surprise, as did the casting of fiery pebbles and cobbles from beyond the earth. It did not cause significant damage, mostly creating a bludgeoning effect that bounced almost innocuously off of his radiant form. The reason for this was the sheltering wings that enshrouded him with protective see-through feathers, defending him greatly from the bounding rocks from the sky. Alderon charged in as well, aiming a cleaving strike towards the lesser god's legs, but that was thought of as less than threatening. A feeble claymore, electrical or otherwise, and wielded by a blinded one without powers, was nothing in comparison to what was seen before, at least to his eyes. He turned about and shimmied over the blow with enough of a leap to somersault sideways. An arm reached out in an attempt to grab Alderon by the breastplate and toss him face-first to the ground, but nothing more could be performed before the next assailant stepped forward. "Hello, beastie," he voiced, manically grinning as he slipped away from everyone nearby and gathered energy for the inevitable. The leviathan's energy was potent and new to him. Never before had he or perhaps anyone seen such a projected energy surrounding someone such as Arthynn, but that would not stop him from attempting to slice it up into a fine, fine energy pie. A grand sword forged itself within his hands, manifesting into something of great cutting power, and when the great ethereal beast sprang towards him at Jynn's behest he dodged to the side, just barely getting grazed by the sweeping beast and yet being blown back by the creature. This possibly would not be without damage to the beast, however. He aimed a dangerous slice at Jynn's side as a riposte, though he wondered if it would be enough to pierce the creature's potentially thick layers of energy and protections from everybody that reinforced him. And then there were the orbs to consider. "Raven's Rebuttal: Matador," he murmured as he ground to a halt, rushing towards each and every lightning orb with a black shield that seemed to absorb anything and everything in its wake. Concluding that he obtained all of the orbs within his vicinity, he performed something incredibly odd: he let loose the lightning orbs again, looking exactly the same as before, but with the opposite purpose. They would still be lured to him due to a mistaken assumption on his part, and when he saw them draw close he skirted away from them as a result, but instead of harming him it would harm the others and not him. If Arthynn continued to use them, they might be horribly mistaken if they thought the tactic was merely meant to gather all of the orbs to one location. Draw too close and Ahriman would use the lightning orbs upon their owner and everyone else next to them, delivering unknown amounts of damage back at them. The tri-pronged attack took him by great surprise, however. No amount of detection or feeling the surroundings can prevent him from getting struck from a potent blind spot in a simultaneous attack of three angles, and he screamed an unearthly bellow as, just before he could raise his sword in front of him like what was done with Lysander many a time, the spear shot through his chest, just like Soren's blade did. Hissing and fighting through the searing pain of the light-attributed spear, he fired off with a Flying General once more. However, since the blade was new and untamed from long years, the maneuver was not as full of usefulness as it once was, nor was it as fast. The mighty barrage of energies from the joint attack of the elementals above his head, as well as Aura's light attack, caused a mighty bout of powerful explosions and eruptions to happen about him, and he was tossed to the ground with a spear through his chest and an immense number of burns and lacerations covering what once could be considered a perfect body. "If you think you've won already, you're sadly mistaken," he commented from the floor, lifting himself up from it with his sword in stiff, zombie-like movements and plucking the spear from his chest, attempting to snap it in half. Regeneration slightly came into play as his small wounds started knitting themselves slowly together. His large one would take a considerable amount of time, however, as ichor dripped from the gaping hole. "My heart is not so easily pierced, my will not easily broken. If you truly wish to look upon a grave"--he cocked his head with an insane grin--"look upon your own six feet under! Death's Haze!" Three smokey clones of himself formed in front of him, intermingled with Void magic and malevolence. Kicking off, they would launch towards Rabiyu, Aura, and Sifrei and if struck or getting too close the clones would explode into a cloud of radiation. This was dangerous only if staying longer than two seconds in the cloud, and the cloud would quickly disperse within twenty to thirty seconds, being readily absorbed by the energy-rich air of the battlefield Alastor was a chore to deal with, the lightning adept summoning up quite the bit of power. However, as it was lightning-based, Ahriman had an idea, an awful idea. An incredibly wonderful awful idea. "Raven's Rebuttal: Matador!" he voiced, leaving a black "shield" up just before leaping away from the explosive burst of lightning energy. He attempted to absorb the entirety of the blow and rebound it back towards Alastor, using his own weapon against him. Best yet, he could not reabsorb it. Corruption wove inside of the attack, and would prove more harmful than helpful. If that did not work due to the magic's defense-breaking nature (I will leave this up to you, Scrap), the shield would be obliterated and unusable for two years or maybe longer, plus the explosion would rocket outward in an fiendish and distracting explosion worthy of the glory that is Ahriman, yet singeing him with its mighty blast. Those lightning orbs, however . . . he would have to deal with the old-fashioned way: running away and dealing with them later, maybe sniping them with long-range magic. He just did not have the time nor the patience nor the mindset to take them all out methodically like before. Skidding to a halt, he came to realisation that something was off, and his eyes and grin went wide with intrigue when he recognised who was back for more punishment, dutifully behind him as always. Henry unleashed a noteworthy attack once again, forcing him to dodge once more, no small feat considering the number of attacks he somehow managed to survive. Feeling a lick of invincibility (even though this was far from the truth), he slipped to the side of the triple burst of energy, but had little preparation for air-jumps made by Henry. The explosive chain of events surrounding the man encompassed Ahriman as well, bombarding him with obscene amounts of force and forcing him to close his eyes as he attempted to lash out at the man before being tossed to the ground. If Henry could not see through the explosions about him, he would probably feel a wild slice from an errant sword slash across the outside of his upper leg, or if so should be able to dodge it. Wounded, battered, wheezing air mixed with the bitter taste of his own blood, Ahri would finally end up with the annoyance of Bherna and Dawson firing even more projectiles at him and Dawson somehow making a sword out of crystal. He did not ask. He just grinned wildly and strafed the magic, caught the flying blade, and used Dawson's speech period to restore himself. His breathing settled, his burns and bruises mellowed. At Dawson's dash, he caught the weapon with the once-thrown knife and tried to swing his greatsword at him to no avail, as the fuzzy little critter burrowed underground through solid stone and resourcefully made his way to Jynn's adoptive daughter. Interesting? Very, but it was a clever tactic for someone who can do that in record time. ((All right, that should cover all attacks for now. Kuni, all yours for the next round. I feel like I have written a book that contests War and Peace in length for this post.))

All right, I have finally managed to send off my post in order to continue the events happening in the Aquafolk village. Apologies for the wait; there was a lot I wanted to say and not enough brainpower to put it into pen and parchment. I hope everyone has had a wonderful series of holidays if you celebrate Hanukkah, Christmas, New Year's Day, or more.

- The Aquafolk Village - Aprameia glanced backward in surprise as Henry somehow stood his ground, regardless of the forces enacted upon him. Not only did he do this, but his entire mien changed, as well as his appearance and strength. With two of her defenses gone, ending up as bonemeal-laden water and other necrotic material, she was open for an assault from behind thanks to Henry, and in the front she had further issues to take care of. In an attempt to keep her attention focused, she readied an assault on two of Galla's corpses, aiming two further tendrils at each of them. One flew overhead and withdrew sluggishly. The other aimed for a horizontal swing to knock the sacks of flesh and bone backward, the intent to destroy them in the rough and hardy foliage floating on the water. The Hex Beast was a challenging contender as she imagined, snapping its jaws ferociously at her, which she attempted to dodge with a leap out of the danger zone and countered with ensnaring water tentacles, but with Henry's latest actions the center of the barrier was destroyed and all control over the vast volume of water erased. Together, Galla and Henry forced the way open and forged a great possibility of success, and the water splashed harmlessly about them. Aprameia glared at the two, anger burning dully in those off-colour eyes. If one could read within those eyes, one could tell that she harboured both a desire to win and . . . something else interred within her, something that normally is not observed, but what would bring about this strange dichotomy? Speculation would have to wait as she merged together wind and water magic, creating an small, dark, and ominous cloud that flew overhead and increased in size. Storm magic had been observed in several locations, most chiefly around parlour magicians and tricksters who used it as a getaway or a spectacle, but this one had a dangerous side to it. With the right temperament, the manifested storm can change the weather from bad to fair, or from fair to bad. The dark nimbus cloud swallowed up most of its brethren as it reached the canopy of clouds overhead, turning them dark instead of a placid cotton white. Thunder rumbled overhead as hairs stood on end for a great many people in the vicinity. Someone had better distract her before lightning is called down from the heavens. ~~ Pang continued to be occupied by the two patricians, the smaller one proving difficult to land a good solid hit while the larger one was protected by the smaller. He wondered if he would be better off attempting to land a single charge of Quick Strike and Shatter Strike upon one or the other, but he felt that it was not quite time. When the thundercloud surged upward from Aprameia and became numerous, he looked up, as did his enemies. Now. Now was the time. "Would you look at that, Fitzj-" said Yilwach before being cut off by Pang, who came in with his quarterstaff held high and swinging down at him. Grinning, the patrician raised his weapon in a quick swing in an effort to cut the wooden staff. That proved disastrous as Pang activated both individual charges of his two powers, bringing in his quarterstaff mid-swing and aiming a thrust of its tip toward a chink in the corpse's armour. Yilwach snarled as the blunt weapon pierced shy of his shoulder and broke his left collarbone, through the leather lamellar that would have protected that area had Shatter Strike not been used. "You little . . ." he voiced on, eyes glinting with hatred as he remarkably tried to clinch the still-lodged quarterstaff with his shoulder, neck and open hand. He smiled triumphantly. "Fitzjerome, now!" His patrician companion would not make it in time before Pang ignored the restricted movement of his quarterstaff and delivered a palm strike upon his chestplate, crimson energy radiating from his hands as he augmented his speed and strength to dent the armour inwards and crush the ribcage of the corpse. Yilwach was thrown backwards, several ribs broken and considerably weaker. Unfortunately, the strike also amplified the draining force of Yilwach's doomsteel armour, sapping Pang of much of his energy from the strike and sagging his shoulders. He barely avoided getting beheaded by Fitzjerome's brute strength behind his sword, the quarterstaff soaking enough of the blow to delay the strike before it broke his weapon in half and sliced across his chin. "Only a little blood, but I'll make due," the half-dragon corpse muttered, stepping back and licking the spilled blood off of his sword with his lizardlike tongue. Green tattoos glowed upon his head as his eyes took upon the same hue. Pang swallowed hard. An undead sanguinary mage? This was way more than what the mission called for. ~~ Winona assisted Galla's warriors with the remaining two patricians, who sneered at the idea of undead fighting undead on the battlefield. They swung their weapons to match Galla's servants' ones, and Winona, stepping into position, attempted tossing a Gravity Vortex in their direction from her hand. The feat took effort, having done this once or twice before with mottled success, but while her targets dodged out of the way she managed to ensnare one of their swords and destroy it beyond repair under its crushing gravity forces. That was a plus. "This one has a fire within her," commented the patrician who went away unscathed and still with his sword. His gazeless eyes, white and featureless, seemed to pierce her regardless, as did his words. "Leave now, warmblooded ignoble one, before I trash you like I will these harmless nameless." "Not a chance, plus you underestimate Galla," Winnie enunciated, readying her spear and shield. "You both will be our combined quarry, and we will humble you with our combined might." The one with whom she spoke laughed spitefully for a time before saying, "Good. Do lend me your vitality when you die. I will use that to make me stronger." The other patrician wordlessly readied himself, a dark, unhealing aura being projected from him. He would be dangerous to fight up close if alive and well, but thankfully Galla's forces were anything but that. This would make the fight a little simpler, as long as he did not concentrate solely on Winnie.

- Rufus Contralto, Documenter of a Withstanding Ice Wall and Granter of Wishes - The djinni did not know what to do regarding the soaring black amalgamation of magic and malice as it continued to fly towards the icy barricade, but the quick thinking of three marvelous people saved the wall from absolute destruction. Sure, the blast did heavy damage to the outside of the wall, shattering the outside face enough to leave massive scars in its face, but everybody was remarkably saved through the combined efforts of a handful of excellent spellcasters, the interior wave of ice as wafting and innocuous as a freshly falling blanket of snow. Impressive. Rufus blinked in surprise of a sensation in his left torso, a pain that continued to grow. An ice shard embedded itself into him from the blast, and though it thankfully was far from fatal it caused him no small amount of shock. He was tangible, and from the blood he observed he was able to be killed. With this newfound sense of mortality, he plucked the ice out from him and focused on Eclaire, who seemed to spiel out all of her three wishes in one fell swoop. Wait, did she say three? Why, yes indeed she said three! The absorption of the fragment of his true self brought upon him the possibility of bestowing three wishes, which was great for everyone but himself, who wished to be human but no longer was capable of being so. "I don't know if I have the capacity to hold such power for everyone here but Stinky Butt over there, but I'll try. From the depths of my being, your wishes are granted! Now go! Fight! Win! And call me when you get back, darling; I enjoy our visits." The last sentence was spur of the moment. He still did not care much for the succubus hybrid, for reasons still hazy within his mind, but he felt an unspoken kindred that warranted another meetup. ((All right, and with that everyone (besides Ahriman) will get a surge of power beyond the surge of power they already had. This will only last the course of the battle in the case that Overworld will have a sequel, and your abilities will be heightened to new peaks. Sorry for the delay; holiday busyness and endless waves of requirements has left me sapped of motivation to write until now. It is all better now, thankfully. Music has a way of invigorating my lost muse. Kuni is next in line for posting for Ahriman, so I will leave the limelight to him for everything relating to this lovely ascendant but the wall's destruction. I look forward to it, bud. = ) It is good to get back into this, and I hope everyone is ready to get this rock a-rolling again as we get closer and closer to the end. Keep up the good work, everyone, and smoosh Ahri's pretty, pretty face into some dog doo-doo with your stat boosts.))

Happy New Year to you all! I too hope it was a great time for everyone and that lots of joy will be had within this year. The year 2018 been a miserable year for a lot of people, so make this one the best you can have.

((Nice work, everyone. The horde of lesser undead is brutalised (if I counted right, all or close to all twenty of them are taken out), and that means the entombed patricians and Galla remain as definite threats. Feel free to add more lesser undead in your posts if you'd like. I cannot complain about a good fight.)) Aprameia looked around in mild shock as the undead servants beneath her were quickly becoming eradicated by the opposing forces. Most, if not all, of the weaker undead were erased and became naught but bonemeal and necromantic essence, the latter of which was quickly drained from some of the zombies by a horrific, jaw-snapping necrotic beast. This beast, as well as others involved in the fight, would definitely be trouble for both her and the patricians that remained, but she felt that this was still a winnable fight. The peons were destroyed, but not the brains behind the front. She smiled at Galla's statement about the necromantic code of ethics, likely because she was precious little informed about the hazards of breaking its tenets, being a new lich. Her expression froze dead in its tracks as her eyes darted towards Henry, with his newfound speed and quick wind-based slice aimed for her. She slanted her body to avoid the attack as he skirted around the octopus barrier, dodging the attack by a narrow berth before countering with a buffeting wind above his head meant to send him earthward. Should it succeed, his speed and trajectory would put him on the ground, prone to the heavy, crushing attacks by her armoured water tentacles. She deemed two to be enough, and aimed one after the other in an effort to smoosh him into paste. The Hex Beast, like previously mentioned, was another dangerous adversary. It's ability to drink from her necromantic font was a very strong weapon, and she readied another attack. The armoured water tendrils not aimed for Henry opened outward like a flower, allowing ample space for her send a surge of cutting winds in the Hex Beast's (and Galla's) direction, three visible sets of vertical and strong air waves. Should any strike its intended target or others, the wave would threaten to cut the Hex Beast or the person involved in two. -- -- -- Pang had company. Two of the entombed patricians targeted him and sneered, one beneath an open helm of antiquity and another without head protection, the remaining thin strands of his long hair tattered by age and deterioration. They circled about him in an ever-shrinking curvature, their obsidian-tipped macuahuitl cruelly glimmering in the weak light and the shimmer of the surrounding waters. "Well, would you look at that, Yilwach? A fine beast head to mount on a wall, eh?" voiced the helmeted one in a gravelly pitch, his bulky physique lighter than what Pang originally assumed. "I don't much care for animal heads, Fitzjerome," said the other, his voice light yet sober. "I'd sooner eat my trophy than observe my trophy, though he does look fitting of either." Pang said nothing, instead glowing with an ambient hue of blue and green. The enemy took notice and charged in, knowledgeable that if they took any longer that things would get worse. Pang widened his eyes and parried a few blows intended to sever his head and stomach, the quarterstaff almost snapping in two under Fitzjerome's might and the sharpness of his blade. The largest price of building a charge of Shattering Strike is that one remains stationary. "You speak as well as charge in when the opportunity fits," Pang thought aloud, still rattled by the nearly simultaneous attack. "You even have names. You are a step above the rest of your kind, but not for long. We -- I -- will vanquish you and eradicate the threat of your existence. "How cute. Not only does the tiger dress like a person, but it speaks like one as well," Yilwach commented dryly, looking over to his ally. "He's a fast one. Don't take him lightly. He parried my strike." "While that may be, mine nearly severed his piddly stick. We'll see how it ends up the next round," voiced Fitzjerome, taking off his helmet and tossing it to the side. Pang was shocked to see a dragon brood standing before him. Draconic blood typically did not convert well with undeath, stripping the body of almost all but its skeleton, but something about the halfblood nature of Fitzjerome made the transmogrification different. He coiled up, preparing for a charge, but the other patrician surprised him with a masterful control of fire energy as three serpent-headed flaming whips spat out in his direction. If not for his speed and rushing out of the area with Supercharge magic, he might have been badly scorched. "Oh?" Yilwach intoned, surprised by the red glow. "You're a rainbow of surprises, aren't you? Any new colours up your sleeve?" "Just one," Pang replied, setting himself up in further preparation, "but you won't live long enough to see it. Let us battle." With a pleased grin, Yilwach met Pang halfway as both surged forward, each nimbly darting around the battlefield in a grave dance. Fitzjerome tried his best to keep up with the fight, but he could barely even swing his weapon to strike, let alone keep his eyes on them. Grumbling, he awaited an opportunity.

((After much thought, I think I'm in agreement with the triffids thing. It will be drawn out before too long, so let's just say we cleared the nest in the end and I'll provide an incentive when we get back to The Haven.)) The large collection of angry plant life soon turned into a small collection of really angry plant life as Solar Fire rained down upon them, as well as the Vortex Grenade thrust within the center of them. The unhealing darkness tore them to shreds, allowing Rhiannon to landfall on an especially unhappy one. The others did not seem to appreciate it as much as Hogarth did, and lunged at her with the ferocious power and fury of a yipping dog. Hogarth stepped in at that time, firing off more shuriken from his palms to cut down the assailing ones. The rest seemed to flee into the forest, screeching their way further and further into the natural haze beneath the trees, but this time they seemed less secure and more afraid than angry. In Hogarth's eyes, that meant good news. "I don't think we will see another posse of them for some time unless we actively seek them out," he spoke with a large ear-to-ear grin. "That leaves the mandrakes open for the taking for now. Let's hurry and grab them, and whatever other plants we can find too. After this, we'll be sitting pretty, y'know, for a Bronze-ranked mission. I'll see if I can snag some grasshoppers while we are at it. That way we can complete both missions." With that, one of his eyes left his socket again and buzzed off into the brush, seeking out further bugs to gather. Selene was kind enough to get a running start prepared for them. As his eyes were self-propelled and could hold a decent amount of weight with their whirlybird mechanisms, capturing two grasshoppers each with their miniature nets would be easy. The downside? Not very much battery power within them. They had a running life of twenty minutes max if burdened and in flight all of that time. He would have to charge up when he got back. "Ooh, a fine mandrake right over there," he elatedly called out, a small smile on his face. "Dibs." With that, he claimed it, digging the lovely specimen of a mandragora out of the ground and shoving it into one of his many pockets. ((That took longer than expected, for which I apologise. I hope everyone has had a wonderful holiday! I did.))

Jari eyed the present warily, seeing the lovely cape gingerly placed within the wrapping paper and finding out that it went downhill after that. Politely he watched until the very end, his eyes wide with interest as he learned the basics, and when all was said and done he was offered a chance to try. With the bottle out already, he was more than happy to try, but he licked his lips tentatively at the question. "It's a secret," he uttered, eyes darting elsewhere in embarrassment. "You know her. I'll leave it at that. Now, hand me that ribbon over there, would you?" He laid down the wine bottle gingerly on the side, guessed the length of wrapping paper, and fought the scissors long enough to grow frustrated and carve out the remaining half of the cut with his sharp fingernail. Next he placed the bottle's middle smack-dab in the centre so that the neck would be covered enough, and the bottom would be covered with a thick layer. When he did such, he looked very proud of his wrapping and taped it all up so that there seemingly was more tape than paper. "All set!" Did I do well, or did I do well?" he asked, his eyes filled with pride and accomplishment, and with him fully knowing the answer to be both. ~~ ~~ ~~ Raiden smiled at his draconic and angelic friends, performing a Mystran bow to both of them, having forgotten to do so beforehand. Old habits die hard, even among friends. "I would not miss one of Shiva's events for the world. It is rare that we can celebrate events like these together, and for the first time in countless years with the humans from the World Below to boot! It is exciting, and will be memorable for centuries to come, I am sure. As for something for the queen, I . . . well, I do not know what to give her. We have not met each other for almost two millennia. All I would know is what she previously liked, and that would seem old-fashioned and silly, I am certain." He scanned the shop, filled with all sorts of odds and ends, and espied a chess board with squares of carved ivory and fine blue stone, and pieces carved brilliantly by a fine artisan. Ritzy? Maybe, but he remembered that she had a fancy to chess all those years ago. It astounded him how that game persisted through the years. "Maybe a chess set? If not used, it would make a nice decoration. Thankfully she is the last on my shopping list. Everyone else is accounted for, including yourselves, my dear friends."

Jari snagged the gift from the winery with stars in his eyes, thinking that anyone and everyone was going to enjoy his motley of presents, all neatly tossed together into his charmed satchel of carrying. Who can beat a bag that reduces the weight of objects to 10% their original weight? Nothing, that's what. The entire bag sloshed behind him as he ran to the palace, up the steps, into the front entrance, and past the eyebrow-raising guards he greeted left and right with a jolly, cheerful smile. Then, he froze, eyes wide, tail drooping behind him. He forgot to wrap them all, or at least the important ones. He tested many doors and found them locked. Finally he tested the council chambers door, found it locked, and in a huff broke open his lockpicking gear. There was a light on behind there, he could tell from the keyhole and the scuffling. Surely somebody was within that room that could help. When the door opened, he was overjoyed that someone was! He ran up to Yev, tears in his eyes. "Merry Christmas, Yev!" he brought to full piping voice. "I have a favour of you to ask. Can you . . . teach me how to wrap things? Better yet, could you wrap them for me? I am wrap-challenged, especially since I have no wrap," he chuckled sheepishly. ~~ ~~ ~~ Raiden looked disturbed as he walked along the streets with an entourage of strange folk that looked very similar to him, hands buried deep within the pockets of his purple robe as he begrudgingly listened to the others behind him. "And that is why knowledge is the best food for the soul, not soup," spoke on a fellow purple-haired individual, tossing back his hair around his eyepatch. "I disagree. Murdering everything and starting new sounds more delicious to me, soul and all," said the other. "Would you both cut it out?" Raiden snapped, looking behind him. "I do not know why you both came along. Odin, maybe I can understand, but you, uh . . ." "Ahriman," voiced the second with vocal perfection. "Silly name, that, but yes, you. Where did you come from, anyhow? And why did you want to join me?" "I want to sing songs," vocalised Odin, his voice mighty and sonorous. "I feel the mighty impulse to dance," spoke the ever-impressive Ahriman, breaking down into a circular moonwalk around the others. "Fine, just keep yourselves under wraps," sighed Raiden. "I do not want people to know that I am becoming the next . . . well, you know who." "Suit of armour that makes many of himself? Yeah, I can see that as annoying for others to think. However, there may be a song and dance number in from us to--" "Oh, look, there is Ren over yonder! Hey, Ren!" he brought to voice, overjoyed to find someone to talk to beyond his selves. Soon he made his way into the shop with Mariel and Ren. "Oh, Mariel too! Good timing. I need to get another gift anyhow, but with your company that will be fantastic." Odin and Ahriman watched Raiden run off, looked at each other, shrugged and made circles with their fingers, and walked away hand-in-hand, already besties.

Pang's sad eyes very rarely left the sight of Aprameia, espying her for a while now as she stood in quiescent rage at the group of adventurers that stepped forth, him being one of them. He wondered, since her soul was still tethered to her person, if she would remember him and some of the other Haven members, but her eyes seemed fixated evenly on everyone who left the security of the gate. Swallowing hard, he focused his strength inwardly, steeling his nerves for what he was previously prepared to do. Winona looked at her with sadness as well, but also with challenge. She was not about to be outmatched by a lich, no matter how uncommon the strength or the resemblance to someone she knew first- or second-hand. Her feet dug into the spongy, saturated ground as she readied her spear and prepared for combat. Others beat her to the punch, Lucia with her hard-hitting lightning staff, incredulously dealing strikes to three of the common revenants, and Kolm firing off several ice missiles towards Aprameia's location. Aprameia wasted little time with a parry, water forming too behind her and spiraling into the form of octopus tentacles, with the grey powder of bonemeal remnants within them from the fallen comrades she had accompanied. Blocking all of the ice shards was no easy feat, but the concentrated nature of Kolm's attack made it relatively simple to block with one motion. The ice now buried in water, she directed the attack toward Lucia and fired off three icy projectiles with the currents within the watery tendrils, at a slower speed than Kolm's attack, but at an angle possibly difficult to see. Fortunately for Lucia, this means less power, and less accuracy, so this was easier to dodge or defend against if spotted in time. "All of you, leave none standing. Kill the living so that they may join the hordes of the undead." The patricians smirked and started forward cautiously, two on either side. The remaining, simple undead charged forward in an attempt to take down the main body with tooth and claw and very seldom a decayed sword. None of them seemed to wield magic or missile weaponry, like bows or crossbows. Meanwhile, the magic caster spoke anew with horrible intonations. "Bone, be bone, Flesh, render flesh, Let all that was provide again upon shaping." It was a simple necromantic chant, chiefly because all of the original materials meant for crafting the bodies of corpses were already available, but the method of crafting was different. The fine bonemeal hardened onto the outside of the water, constructing a firm build of necrotic armoured flesh on all appendages made out of the water. It would seem to some that she did not want to be approached, which Pang took slight curiosity to. She did this before, on her first real fighting mission, creating the octopus wall to shield her and attack at the same time in close- to mid-range combat, but the necromancy was certainly new. Was this still Aprameia, even if her eyes showed nothing for him? The Zouyu refocused on the initial fight, bellowing out a roar of a battle cry as he rushed forward and pounced upon the nearest undead he could find. He crushed an Aquafolk zombie's neck by dodging its claws and issuing a clothesline, then took out his quarterstaff and after a few seconds worth of dodging and parrying took out another Aquafolk revenant and a human revenant. Winona had a similarly great experience, swapping her spear with open hands as she fired off a gravity vortex from herself that took out two human revenants coming her way. The attack almost took out an Aquafolk zombie as well, managing to cripple it by powdering an arm instead, but she cancelled the attack after that, not wanting to strike Lucia or Pang or whoever else was at the front lines. ((Seven (7) less baddies and some excellent attacks in. I look forward to seeing more of everyone's styles. I will post for the other group once I have more time, as it is late in my time zone.))

I am in as well. This sounds like a fun mini RP!

- Elly Sanguine, Hyssop Town - "Thank goodness that's it," Freo commented with a sigh as he soothed his primed muscles into quiet submission. "If so, feel free to continue. I thought for sure that there was a g-g-g- . . . g- . . ." "A ghost," finished Xsira, tails swishing behind her as she sat. "Freo believes in ghosts beyond Ghost Types." "And whose fault is that?" barked Freo, his momentary stutter shattered by agitation. "You kept telling me about ghost stories ever since we were young." "And they were just that, stories," the Espeon replied with her can-do-no-wrong voice, grooming her front paw afterwards. Meanwhile, Elly smiled in response, still swaying her legs beneath her idly. "I'm the same way. Journeying and visiting place after place is a great way to find out exactly how different things can be. In Johto you have a lot of forests, lakes, and caves, but here it is almost tropical. I'm excited to see more places and . . ." She trailed off, looking worriedly over to the uproaring Gym Leader after the youth before him was bested by the battle limit. The man was a firebrand, a candle burning on both ends, it seemed, and someone stepped into the ring with a Sceptile in the lead. It was the man from before, with the Lucario. He must have been quite the bigwig to tell the Gym Leader to resign. Elly did not know much about officials in Johto or elsewhere, but if she ever was to realise that this was the champion of the region she would, no doubt, freak out. Freo and Xsira had their attention wrapped up in the situation as well, Freo especially. As Elly's self-proclaimed chief guardian, he watched the situation play out and kept a lookout for other dangerous or curious activity. No one will get past his eyes and ears, or so he believed deeply.

Hogarth perked up upon hearing the others' voices, glancing over to find Rhiannon and Hektor heading in his and the Fallen Reksis' direction. Thank goodness they were all right. The triffids greatly made up for their weaknesses with numbers, and the aura around both of them seemed to stave off the triffids, which stayed close to them as if to snap at their heels and get a lucky bite in. With bolting speeds, he fired off several thin, razor-sharp shuriken from the palms of his hands and into the remaining triffids, unveiling the fact that he had made modifications to his own body beyond his. "Good grief, what a mess. If only I knew triffids would be here. These plants are unbearably persistent. However, I agree. These creatures must be curbed. If we destroy enough of them, they will stop herding until they are large enough to attack big prey in the forest once more. Alas that my skills cannot help much in that area. My weapons are limited and not intended for armies. "Let's be quick and grab some mandrakes before we leave. I have a few gatherings of plants in my lab, but I am sorely lacking in mangradoras. They should be over there, about three hundred metres ahead, if I recall right from my (patent pending) Eyes in the Sky, ju-u-ust past that growing throng of evil plants." Even as he spoke, more triffids were surging towards the group in the direction he pointed, out for blood and manically screaming and tossing their roots, fly trap mouths, and leafy arms wildly into the air. If each mandrake were any larger than a one-year-old baby, maybe this gathering would have been scary to Hogarth and the others. Maybe. ((There are about thirty-five (35) of them. Feel free to eradicate them with all the love and tenderness an adventurer can provide. We can go hunting for one more batch of about thirty-five for a reward when returning to the Haven, or we can get the mandrakes and/or the rest of the supplies without worry of seeking out further battles. Let me know either through your characters or via out-of-character chat what you would like and I will happily proceed onward in that direction.))

I forgot to respond to this sooner, but don't worry about the wait. Eight days is not that bad for a timeframe, so you are good there. ~~ ~~ ~~ In other news, Endless informed me that he is dropping out of the RP for a time until he has more free time for it. Selene will be put on ice until then and kept until desired once more. If you, Endless or others, would like, a new character can be created by killing off one of your previous characters. The limit of two characters is still in effect, so you don't have to end a previous characters' life if not desired if you have one character.

Pang nodded appreciatively towards Ceres as she offered her services, his mind surging with ideas as she brought that up. Shield magic would definitely have been very useful in this situation, though Shield energy was brittle, which limited its usefulness. If she clove the volume of water in half parallel to the walls, it might loosen the wielder's grasp on the water behind the Shield energy, rendering it useless to the enemy . . . or dangerous towards them. However, two others -- Kolm and Henry -- stepped up to the plate and performed some high-level castings. Kolm dropped the temperature of the water to below freezing point, causing the water that crashed against the wall to freeze onto the wall and provide additional support. Furthermore, ice formed in the shape of bergs on top of the waves, collecting more and more until Henry pulled off his greatest move shown thus far. Henry's sundering strike parted all that was in his path -- ice, water, ground, and sometimes flesh. The magic caster on the other side of the wave, sensing the danger, leapt free from the dangerous slash, but in doing so lost much of the control of the wave as water and ice fell free from the almost spherical gathering of water. Knowing this was too much water to hold back completely, the caster parted the roaring waters into a large "V" with both wind and water magic around herself and the main bulk of the army of undead. The rest were washed away, ripped to shreds through the marshy plants and powerful shards of ice that tore through everything in its path. Covered by cold froth from the close call of the obliterating waves, the caster looked up. Her off-colour eyes shown with an inward light. Pallid, warped animal skins made from fell magics cloaked her sickly flesh from the elements, and fingerless gloves wrapped around her hands, entwined by arcane strands of etched ribbon. Her hair, once could be considered beautiful, were marred and tattered by a recent death. Whoever looked down from the wall would see her, Aprameia, glaring up in the direction of where the swordsman Henry was, a eerily calm irritation behind her gaze. On the other side of the gate, the Aquafolk general stood in shock. There were no sounds of crashing waves any longer, and the powerful aura he felt from these newcomers on the wall surprised him. Even if Lukkel's power was involving healing, their caliber of magic was higher than what his was. Winona, beside him and patting his shoulder pad hard enough for him to feel it, could not help herself from smiling as she passed him by. These newcomers really showed promise. "All right, general," she spoke up, "let's unfurl the gate and step out to crush this army of undead. The battering ram is destroyed, and it will take some time for them to make a new, similar one. Let's kick them while they are down while we can. Meanwhile, you gather as many of your mages as you can. You still will need to defend yourselves with everything you can against these foes." The decorated soldier bit back a response before nodding gruffly. He scanned the walls for the general of this wall, but finding him missing he took command. "This is Commander General La Croix. Open the gate and let this bunch out! They will combat this undead menace head-on while we provide support!" he barked, then glanced back towards Winona and the others. "I hope you are as good as you seem. It does us little favour if you die out there." "Wouldn't plan on it," is what Winona replied before moving on, still with a smile. "Everyone, are you ready? They will close the gate behind us, so we need you to be prepared." "I'm all set," commented Pang in reply, glad of the fact that he did not feel like a leader anymore. "Let's end this needless fight." The remaining Aquafolk on the top of the wall pulled on two separate levers simultaneously, and the gate creaked ever upward, fighting against the buildup of ice left over from Kolm's enchantment before the majority fell off and tumbled into the entryway. Deeming it safe enough, Winona stepped up to and through the gate, eyeing the scores of undead that awaited them outside. Looking for Aprameia was easy. Out of the great number of shambling corpses within the enemy force, including several named undead which onlooked with grisly smiles on their half-rotten faces, she was the most preserved, and had her phylactery exposed on a cord around her neck. Whether this was a death wish or an open statement of "You cannot touch me, therefore I need not fear you," she did not know, but she was willing to put them all down, no matter the method. ((This is it, folks, a final showdown with the undead, and additional information is necessary for this fight. Revenant corpses and entombed patricians can be fought like before, where you the player can control the enemy as an opponent. I will control the lich Aprameia. Feel free to start anytime, and remember to have fun!)) ((I will move on with the group in the Elysian Forest very soon when I am next able to post.))

- Rufus Contralto - Rufus lay there for a time, barely able to pull himself upright and stare bleary-eyed at the battle going around him. His eyes seemed unfocused and his muscles lax and untested for centuries, but they still held enough power within them to pull his upper torso free from the stone beneath him. Being incorporeal and without mass for a while certainly had its limitations. No longer can he freely move. The sensation of moving his body felt alien and sluggish and difficult. When Eclaire slipped his way, nearly slamming her feet into his aching body, he glanced at her too and nodded in response to her question. He felt more himself than ever before, now that he was close enough to being considered human. In fact, he felt more powerful than before, even with his present physical weakness. It was a refreshing change from feeling nothing at all to reality, and he kept himself still, arm propped up on one knee. "Aura has my lamp. Fetch it from her and I'll lend my power," he spoke through rasps, his dark eyes refocusing on Ahriman and a hand bobbing its way to face the so-called deity and his magical wellsprings of electricity and void. Eclaire left, leaving only a magic shield behind as she left him to a fate of fitful explosions. How kind. However, since he had to use his powers to unmake the energy tossed his way, he would have to rip apart the shield as well. "Null and void! Mudamudamudamudamuda!" he shrieked in some sort of weird tongue foreign to him, but he liked what was said regardless. The shield ripped open, now defunct of purpose, and the wild explosions facing him died down to whimpering pops and fizzles that barely lifted the hairs on the nape of his neck with their static charge. Nuchal hairs aside, he smiled and decided to lie low for a bit, maybe retreat to where the others were behind the wall of ice. He lifted himself up and migrated to safety, his eyes ever focused on Ahriman, just in case. - Ahriman - The newfound god focused much intent towards stopping the quick assault tossed in his direction, a dangerous joint attack by Henry and Rhea as they attacked on two sides. Flashing light waves rained down first, which Ahriman skirted away from with more than enough lag time, but the assaults of three arcing weapons would prove tricky if left undeterred. With his extending and strong great blade he swung full-force at Rhea, matching sword with sword as he attempted to either cleave her cleanly in two or bat her away with impressive force. Next he put his focus on Henry, that corpse who was too stubborn to die, who seemed to trail energy with every move he made. How did he, a human, gain such power that rivaled those around him? He did not know, nor did he catch on to how forceful the blows were that were launched in his direction until one struck his sword mid-block and cut it in half. Eyes narrowing, he kept himself and the remains of his sword clear from each of the enhanced strikes, dodging the last combo with a backwards leap. That proved to be a poor decision, as the blasting cone of energy struck him, wounded him with several bruises along his crossed arms and stomach, and launched him backwards a considerable distance, and yet again Henry was on his case. Face contorting into anger, he dodged to the side and performed a hilt bash aimed for Henry's stomach, taking advantage of his angled posture. Worse yet, if striking true, he would feel an explosive burst of small, grape-sized spheres that would send Henry flying and cause tremendous internal bleeding if left untreated. "Grapeshot," he muttered. His eyes snapped open as Alastor slipped in behind him, his power spiking from Henry's gathered energy. Was it a purposeful sendoff? It must have been. When did they make such an agreement, he wondered? They did not seem to agree on anything beforehand, but perhaps it was due to his concentration on other matters that his attention was split. This is bad, he internalised, but worse situations lie in my memory. My opponents will exhaust themselves faster than I will tire, and I will stand on top. Stretching his blade further, the cut end renewed, Ahriman shielded his body with a tight-knit defense of Force Armour, Void energies, and the energy projections of wings as he stood his ground against Alastor's rapid assault. This proved the better strategy, considering that the ground he would have walked on behind him was crumbling away, and he battered against the ferocious winds and arcing slashes with his own, slow flurry of parries and pulses. The forces of the blows were double-edged, however. His open left hand was battered and bloodied as the Force Armour actually bowed under the force and grew weaker, and rivulets of blood streaked up and down his arm as he swayed in a battle dance against Raiden's former friend. The two afterimage strikes were not taken into account. If armour was not made, he would have surely been killed. The draconic explosion was dealt with, the final dregs of energies of the Force armour dissipating the blast sent his way. Alastor, being known to be a very hardy individual, appeared unfazed by this great release of power. He, on the other hand was quite battered, his blood shed, his ire not satisfied. Ahriman glared at Alastor as he readied his incantation, halfway figuring out what he was doing and leaping back as a result. "You think the paltry sword you gave Raiden, that frail, wishful shard of a man, would heed your call? Let me enlighten you, that it will not--" He stopped mid-sentence, feeling the tugs of the link buzzing to life within him. The summons given to his sword was actually taking effect, even without his permission. But how? Why? The rules of binding stated that bound weapons would remain linked to their masters, and yet Alastor was able to beckon the sword into existence, the white-gold sheen of the Damascus steel of Zweishock appearing just in front of them both at Alastor's feet, propped out of the floor and ever rising. The majesty of the weapon was something to behold and filled Ahriman with gushes of memories old and new, particularly of the fight between Kilkes Seres and Mystras on that battlefield. He placed his bloodied hand on his head as the tie of the link was broken completely, ownership of the sword now belonging entirely to Alastor. "How dare you claim that blade back from me," he hissed in agitation, raising his eyes from the sword. "And how dare you look down upon me, Mariel, you being once a friend to Odin who came before me, a mere man more flawed than even I can list. I will dole out sufficient punishment for everyone involved, starting with those cowering behind that wall of ice." With a quick surge of power and a flick of his wrist, fell energies composed of heavily destructive forces launched forth from his hand towards the center of the wall. If left unhindered, it will detonate against or next to the wall with enough explosive force to destroy a hill, shattering the ice and possibly killing all of those behind it. Rufus, spying this from next to that very same wall of ice, tried erasing it from existence, but his abilities of antimagic could only erase a fragment of its power. This is because the energies were mostly not magic, but primal and almost unrefined energies, malevolence in itself. Someone else would have to stop it. "Next is you, Mariel," he commented, eyes locked on her as he held his sword to eye-level and very quickly rushed towards her with a Flying General attack, sword swinging diagonally in two slashes with tremendous force behind it. Afterwards, he held out a hand and brought to voice: "Erupting Emptiness." Void energies fired off from above him in Mariel's direction, wherever she went, it will be fired. The shots would be like geodes, hollow in the middle and yet crumbling and shattering within a person. It was an attack meant for bloodletting and cutting into vital organs, so if Mariel was not careful and prevented any from piercing her skin she would find herself in a painful situation. ((Phew. Done. You guys really know how to write.))

Winona glanced over to Lukkel who voiced his worries about disappearing with a mixed expression on her face. This was a similar question she asked when she was new -- in fact, perhaps almost everyone in The Haven had the same inquiry -- but it always had the same answer. "We could, and we might," she uttered slowly, eyeing Lukkel with a forced calm. "I do not know what would happen, but disappearances have occurred, and warnings have been instilled since the beginning. The higher-ups never mentioned what happens to those who disappear, either, but if becoming a lich is anything to do with it . . . well, I don't want to make any attempt of doing so, and neither should you." She paused, looking ahead, then behind. It seems that Galla slipped off to rejoin later, a dangerous but sensible venture. It seemed that she had an idea in mind. At the head of the group, the mage general looked particularly worried about the sounds occurring from behind the wall ahead of them, the gate becoming more and more visible on the other side of the tent-strewn town. Water came through the palisades with great force, bowing and creaking much of the wooden bracing behind the thick, spiked tree trunks that consisted of the outer wall. Surging waves battering the other side, if judging from the force of water lashing over the walls had knocked a number of Aquafolk off of the wooden platforms that were certainly not meant for such loads of force. Some were lucky. The majority, however, did not move, and the general cursed colourfully under the neck plate attached to his hauberk regarding their losses. The waves receded and crashed anew in a controlled and timely manner, and it was only a matter of time before the gate, as well as perhaps some of the wall, was torn free from its surrounding parts and entry could be gained. Some Aquafolk mages, gifted with lightning magic, danced electricity across the water in efforts of destroying the undead behind it. From the sounds of things, it was not working out in their favour, but rather the enemy's. Sparse numbers remained standing on the ramparts as they futilely attempted to fight back the forces of unnatural nature. Pang looked on with concern, pondering over what could prevent this water from destroying the wall and the gate. It was a slow process, but effective, as what could stop such a mass of water now that it has built to such a swell? However, there was Henry within the group, who with the help of his elementals could likely be a water mage if he wanted to. Perhaps that would be the key. "An excellent suggestion, Henry and companions," he remarked, with a smile on his face difficult to pull off. "However, we may need your skills, and others too if able." He pitched his voice louder to talk to the group as a whole. "Can you or anyone else among you use water magic? We need to put a halt to the wave on the other side. Ever heard of wave interference? We need to push the water back at similar force. If we can do that, the waves will stagnate and we can wash away the enemy army." ((One to two additional posts of mine, and the second/final battle of this quest can start. What Pang is proposing is only one way to tackle the problem of a watery battering ram (if our water mages are up to the task, this could work). If you have another possibility, have your character speak about the idea and we can attempt to make it work together.)) -- -- -- -- -- The triffids were like lemmings, in that where one went, the others, at least for the most part, followed. A great number had launched themselves into the destructive time vortices around Hektor and Rhiannon, with just as much effect as the first two that leapt into them. In other words, it was not at all effective. Much of the force of triffids died in this manner, but ten were smart enough to stop in their tracks and snarl angrily from outside of the time bubbles. Five stayed nearby. The other five ran for reinforcements, screeching their otherworldly cries out to the world in search for more triffid friends.

Very nice! Welcome aboard, Heart!

The white tiger smiled somberly and nodded his thanks towards Lucia first and Kolm second, though he dropped the expression and paused long before responding to the young man's question. "It will be complicated, but I will see this through. I owe her that much, and more besides." The wooden palisade gateway, overlayed with much interlacing bands of metal, soon gave way and creaked ever upward like a portcullis. Holes incised from the spiked points of the gate can be found on either side of a narrow wheel path in the middle, a defensive feature against siege-worthy battering rams and tunnelers. The Aquafolk soldiery from behind the gate jumped from over the holes and stood aside almost in unison, giving their guests a proper greeting and show of protection by placing one of their fists on their own chests. "Come, it is best that we do not tarry," informed the Aquafolk commander general brusquely, inviting them across the threshold of the gate and leading the way. Pang quickened his pace to match the swift, long strides of the decorated warrior. "Our brethren are fighting their best and giving their all on the other end where the forces are strongest. Haven members, we are counting on you to repulse these dead from our lands. Foul magic casters, creating life from the dead. If I had more of a say in the nation, necromancers and their ilk would not be welcomed here or anywhere neighboring us." Pang curbed his tongue, wanting to provide defense of Galla and her instrumental use of the dead against the enemy, but deciding against it. Instead, he merely growled and moved on. Now was not the time to enter a debate, nor was it time to be thrown outside of the grounds and complicate matters. Winona tarried behind with the rest of the group, looking at the confusion of Lucia and Kolm from before. Surely enough they would not have known about Aprameia, and she felt inclined to shed some light on the subject. "Everyone, listen in. This can be useful for the fight ahead, or just for your general knowledge. Aprameia's tale is a sensitive topic in The Haven. She was from an Aquafolk town like this and recruited within our community, her abilities praiseworthy in terms of control of water and wind magic. Every Aquafolk deals with only one kind of magic, typically wind magic. She had two, which made her very, very special. The strength of her powers were comparable to the first Haven members, in recorded history, anyway, but she was pacifistic." Winona furrowed her brow and looked to the side, eyeing the heavily fur- and vine-laden yurts on either side, built in the traditional circular fashion. Living in a swamp had its limitations of materials, but civilisation finds a way to make due with what it had. Narrow streets bobbed between rows of tents, but they were empty. The few visages one can see were small ones that popped out of the tent openings before swiftly disappearing inside, terror in their eyes. The escalation of battle are too much for young ears, she thought to herself. "She got along well with everyone," Winnie continued, "especially Pang, who seemed to be interested in her. However, she ignored the warnings of many and refused to leave Haven for a while. Pang, being a kind soul, tried to offer a mission with her. From what little he said to me, she accepted, but she did not leave for it in time. After twenty-one days, she just was . . . gone. Pang took it hard, but if what is said is true this will give him at least some closure. I worry for him, though." Pang seemed oblivious to the conversation behind him, his eyes and ears set upon the torchlight of the eastern gate where the path they were travelling down trailed. Many blasts of wind could be heard over the sounds of battle, as well as the roar of water crashing against large objects. There was little doubt in his eyes. He was certain that it was her, but what would he do when the time came? That question bothered him fiercely, and he ruffled the fur on his head with an agitated sweep of his hand. -- -- -- -- -- Meanwhile, far off in another universe, Hogarth was more than happy to witness the demise of even more plants as the abominable triffids chasing him were absolutely demolished by the fire-based shrapnel of his weapon. Triffids, as a whole, were very dry and kept the water they absorbed tightly inside, mostly in the xylem and the phloem. Due to this, the four beings were quick to light up like torchwick, and Hogarth stopped his running, puffing in and out many quick gasps for air. "Thank you, Reksis," he panted before standing up straight and holding out his hand. One of his inbound eyes, and then another one, descended into his palm and entered sleep mode until he inserted both into their rightful orbits. Feeling quite glad to see things normally now, excepting that one eye in the sky, he walked up to Reksis and sent an encapsulating shield made of Shield magic over to where the triffids were, the fire about them and wherever else the shapnel lay being quickly suffocated from lack of oxygen. "That's a nice machine you have there. One does not often see guns in The Haven. I can certainly say they're effective, though, after seeing them more in use. But where are the others? Where's Selene?" ((I will wait for the others in the forest before continuing on with the terrible triffid brigade.))

Sorry for the hold-up, everyone. I thought I was caught up for a while, and then I checked out the roleplay again and realised I wasn't. =P I freshly posted now, however. Star, do you need help with some additional Team Yami individuals? I cannot promise anything more than bare-bones character sheets, but I can assist, as it looks like you are maintaining all of the villains so far here.