Elementals 3: The White Rose (IC, Sign-ups only)

[Lazarian]

Unlike Katya, Alexei had no interest in socializing. Nothing against the group they were with, or anything. They were all fine. But this whole trip to the Thin Isles was a diversion, really. They were here to complete a task and return home. Katya was starting to lose sight of that. It was understandable, of course. This was all quite exciting. Though he certainly didn't mind wiping the Dark from this country, at the end of the day, he wanted to get the mission over with and make it home.

Looking sharply around the plaza, he looked carefully for potential marks. Colored hair, odd features, immense stature - all these were clearly identifiable marks of the Spellborn. They were the targets of choice. Normal mercenaries were fine, but Alexei figured that Katya's claim that the journey was ordained by the divine would appeal more greatly to those who were blessed. And they'd probably sign on for substantially lower pay, too, allowing them to stretch their coin much further.

Beyond that, he figured that if one was foolish or daring enough to sign onto this random crusade, they'd certainly be amenable to a long journey for pay. There was an odd habit among Spellborn of searching or questing for adventure. Perhaps it was that blue blood of theirs that made them so restless.

Meanwhile, a pale figure cloaked in a beast's skin pried itself from the bowels of the volunteer ship, desperately crawling on all fours across the deck, headed towards the bow. There, he took a mighty leap off the ship and straight to solid ground, where he landed on his feet with a resounding thump. The figure in question was tall and muscular, with long blond hair flowing in a wild, spiky mane. He wore the hide of a massive black bear as a cloak, with the creature's maw currently pulled back instead of covering his head, and one of his arms seemed to be made of smooth grey stone instead of flesh.

"Finally! I thought I was never going to leave that ship alive!" The man declared. He was clearly not a seafarer, unlike most of the party.

Alexei turned, hearing a loud thud behind him. His eyes lit up - two figures had just left the ship, and they were exactly what he was looking for!

The Earthborn was the first of the two. Tall, muscular, and broad, he would have likely been able to go toe to toe with Alexei even without the inborn advantages of an Elemental. Wearing the hide of a black bear of a cloak and bearing an arm that seemed to be covered in stone, he seemed worthy enough.

Behind him, a woman with crimson flowing hair walked down the pier. She seemed noticeably less enthusiastic, bearing a grim face and stern eyes. Perhaps a veteran of the war, searching for another campaign...though she seemed far too young for that. Child conscripts were rare in Garmiccia, as this was labeled as a dreadful sin, but perhaps the Gallians held no such views.

"Greetings!" Alexei rumbled, standing in both their paths. "I'm glad you made it off as well, Earthborn. I don't believe I've seen you two before. Who may you be, and what brings you along on this journey?" he said, looking over both of them.

[Zarkenis Ultima]

---

"Earthborn? That's quite a step up from 'bloody mountain savage'. Who-" The man in the bear hide cloak spoke as he looked at whoever had addressed him, only to pause as he looked up at Alexei - something he was not used to at all, as he was among the tallest men of his clan and men from other corners of Gallia were often shorter as well. An amused smile appeared on his face as he walked towards the Garmiccian. "By the Host, you're a big one aren't you! Where on Terestark's green earth are you from and what do they feed babies there? Bear milk or something like that?" He spoke, giving Alexei a friendly slap on the shoulder and confirming that, yes, the man was made of muscle and didn't just look that way for some reason.

"Ah, but where are my manners. You men of the south are all about that, aren't you?" He continued in the same easygoing manner before proudly smacking his chest with his left fist - traditionally it was the right one, but he wasn't in the mood to hit himself with the equivalent of a large stone club. "I am Hakkon the Stone Bear, son of Sigvard and Ragna, and future chieftain of Clan Valtivar of Balder's Peak. I descended from the peaks of northern Albrion to carry out the will of the Father of Mountains and help my fellow men in their time of need. An Elemental cannot ignore the festering presence of Tenaembra's loyal servants any more than a man can tolerate the deathly kiss of steel upon their heart, and so I have come to help rid this land of its would-be ravagers." He spoke in a surprisingly deep and solemn voice, a steely glare of resolution flashing across his face before being replaced by the same relaxed look from before, the stone-armed man loosening his stance and placing his hands on his hips.

"Well, there you have it." Hakkon said with a friendly smile. "I could hardly pass up the chance to join this expedition when it sounds like one that will be sung about for years to come, eh? Now, I don't know why the lady..." He gestured towards Vivienne, who remained silent so far. "Is here, but I'm sure she has a fascinating story to share." He stated, offering the redhead the same smile before turning back to Alexei.

"How about you? Who are you and what brings you on this journey, old soldier?"

[Tomia]

Vivienne van Laschiol, 19th of December, 1781 G.C.C
Vivienne exited the ship in a fairly unceremonious manner. She didn't speak as the group was addressed or try to draw attention to herself. She wasn't here to stand out or make friends. Her only goal was to burn watchtower to the ground for what they had done to her and prevent them from doing it to anyone else. During the fights both against the bird creatures and the sea serpent, Vivienne had stayed largely in the background. She helped fight, but didn't want to display exactly what she could do as she was still reluctant to trust anyone after her betrayal. Besides this, she didn't want anyone to get hurt. The Fire within her seemed to burn stronger day after day and every time she used it she risked the lives of everyone around her. It was the cruel irony of what the Elemental hating fanatics had done to her.

The young warrior's solitary surroundings were interrupted by a large man who was part of the expedition who wanted to know her name. "I am Vivienne." She said simply. She rarely liked to give anyone more than her first name and wouldn't divulge more unless pushed. "I am here to stop the Watchtower, as I assume everyone is." She said, again going as light on the details as possible. "What about you? I'm not sure I know your name..."

[Ameriganastan]

"You can't just use an honored servant of the gods as a cheap party trick, Eric!" Katya protested, though hints of a smile broke through her attempt at a stern expression.

"Oh, you wanna see her do a party trick? This one always kills. You give her a rolling pin and a little booze and-"

"Earthborn? That's quite a step up from 'bloody mountain savage'. Who-" The man in the bear hide cloak spoke as he looked at whoever had addressed him, only to pause as he looked up at Alexei - something he was not used to at all, as he was among the tallest men of his clan and men from other corners of Gallia were often shorter as well. An amused smile appeared on his face as he walked towards the Garmiccian. "By the Host, you're a big one aren't you! Where on Terestark's green earth are you from and what do they feed babies there? Bear milk or something like that?" He spoke, giving Alexei a friendly slap on the shoulder and confirming that, yes, the man was made of muscle and didn't just look that way for some reason.

"Ah, but where are my manners. You men of the south are all about that, aren't you?" He continued in the same easygoing manner before proudly smacking his chest with his left fist - traditionally it was the right one, but he wasn't in the mood to hit himself with the equivalent of a large stone club. "I am Hakkon the Stone Bear, son of Sigvard and Ragna, and future chieftain of Clan Valtivar of Balder's Peak. I descended from the peaks of northern Albrion to carry out the will of the Father of Mountains and help my fellow men in their time of need. An Elemental cannot ignore the festering presence of Tenaembra's loyal servants any more than a man can tolerate the deathly kiss of steel upon their heart, and so I have come to help rid this land of its would-be ravagers." He spoke in a surprisingly deep and solemn voice, a steely glare of resolution flashing across his face before being replaced by the same relaxed look from before, the stone-armed man loosening his stance and placing his hands on his hips.

"Well, there you have it." Hakkon said with a friendly smile. "I could hardly pass up the chance to join this expedition when it sounds like one that will be sung about for years to come, eh? Now, I don't know why the lady..." He gestured towards Vivienne, who remained silent so far. "Is here, but I'm sure she has a fascinating story to share." He stated, offering the redhead the same smile before turning back to Alexei.

"How about you? Who are you and what brings you on this journey, old soldier?"

Before he could detail the trick (And possibly get his neck snapped by his irate companion), his ears perked up.

"Someone say old soldier?"

He turned around assuming someone was addressing him. Whether they were or not (They weren't, but who cares) quickly became his secondary concern. The rather handsome fellow talking to Alexi was now his primary interest.

"Holy Hells, look at him. Alexi isn't really my type, but I wouldn't mind being the filling in the sandwich him and this guy made. If you'll excuse me Belle, I'm gonna go hunt me a bear. Rawr."

He slicked his hair back and borderline swagger walked over to the two of them.

"Hello there, handsome. Always happy to see some new, very fit additions to our motley crew. That's a neat arm you got there by the way. Lots of...potential with that thing. Oh, I'm Eric Lumen by the way. Charmed."

"You're old enough to be his grandfather you lecher!"

"No one asked you!"

[Lazarian]

Hakkon introduces himself

The Stone Bear was certainly a character. He reminded Alexei vaguely of Duke Sidorov, a thickly built mountain man whose ancestors sculpted a city straight into the cliffside. He was friendly, though rough around the edges in mannerisms and behavior in comparison to Tristan or the Federal Spellborn generals who accompanied them. Alexei considered that a plus, though.

"Well, there you have it." Hakkon said with a friendly smile. "I could hardly pass up the chance to join this expedition when it sounds like one that will be sung about for years to come, eh? Now, I don't know why the lady..." He gestured towards Vivienne, who remained silent so far. "Is here, but I'm sure she has a fascinating story to share." He stated, offering the redhead the same smile before turning back to Alexei.

"I am Vivienne." She said simply. She rarely liked to give anyone more than her first name and wouldn't divulge more unless pushed. "I am here to stop the Watchtower, as I assume everyone is." She said, again going as light on the details as possible. "What about you? I'm not sure I know your name..."

The redhead was quiet and brief, in comparison to the boisterous Earthborn. Perhaps this woman was not an Elemental at all. She looked at the ground, giving her name and a vague reason, quickly spinning the conversation back towards Alexei. Perhaps just mere shyness, or perhaps a checkered past. Alexei wasn’t about to dig too deeply into it.

"Aye, how about you? Who are you and what brings you on this journey, old soldier?" chimed Hakkon, looking over at Alexei with an inquiring stare.

“Well, I’m no Southman.” Alexei chuckled. “Not a Gallian at all, actually. I’m from Garmiccia. I was born in Vysok, a small village nestled in the heart of the Zakaleny mountains.” he said. “We don’t drink bear milk, no. Just a hearty diet of venison and potatoes, mostly. Local legend has it that we’re descendants of the Giants which founded Vysok in the Olde Times, before recorded history. Creatures that stood nearly twice as tall as a normal man.”

Hakkon followed along, seeming somewhat interested.

“Of course, those are just some old stories, so make of that what you will.” Alexei laughed, crossing his arms. “As to why I’m here? Well, I’m actually travelling with a young diplomat to the city of Auregen. We’ve been...somewhat sidetracked along the way, though I suppose this is as good a cause to be sidetracked for as any. Though, if you seek adventure, I have a proposition for y-"

Suddenly, Alexei heard footsteps behind them, and his voice trailed off into silence. That was the sound of a very familiar swagger of a walk, and he turned to face Eric, who was looking up at Hakkon like a fresh piece of bacon on the grill.

Internally, he was divided. On one hand, the champion held a divine sword, a clear and walking statement that the Gods were at their backs and that this was a journey worth undertaking. On the other hand, it was Eric, who was likely here to attempt to seduce that woman. Or perhaps the man. Or maybe both. Alexei was quite surprised that Eric had been in the Gallian Army rather than the Navy, all things considered.

He slicked his hair back and borderline swagger walked over to the two of them.

"Hello there, handsome. Always happy to see some new, very fit additions to our motley crew. That's a neat arm you got there by the way. Lots of...potential with that thing. Oh, I'm Eric Lumen by the way. Charmed."

"You're old enough to be his grandfather you lecher!"

"No one asked you!"

Alexei groaned internally, watching the chance of recruiting these two dissolve before his eyes.

"Well now, Master Eric, let's not get ahead of ourselves!" he said, attempting to save face. "They're just along for the military campaign in the Thin Isles, not the whole journey. Though...perhaps you could elaborate more about our trip to Auregen to this fine young man?"

He realized nearly as soon as the words left his lips that Eric probably didn't even know they were headed to Auregen. The man was simply living the journey one day at a time with little care or concern in the world. Which, while not a bad way to live, would not serve as a convincing sales pitch.

[Zarkenis Ultima]

---

---

The Earth Elemental listened attentively as the attractive redhead introduced herself in a fairly laconic manner and the bald soldier explained that he was not a Southemen mercenary, but a Garmiccian emissary, or rather, the bodyguard of one, and had somehow wound up on the opposite end of Gallia killing demons instead of heading to Auregen proper. The man was about to make an offer of sorts by the sound of it, when he was interrupted... by a funny-walking sexagenarian mercenary no less. As if the old man's body language wasn't suggestive enough, his words made it extremely clear that he was not merely introducing himself, but rather looking for someone to cross swords with in a friendly sparring match, so to speak. He wasn't interested, though Belle's comment made him turn his head, and the sight of the Angelle got a whistle out of him. There sure are a lot of redheads on this expedition.

Turning back to Eric, he didn't react with horror or revulsion at the man, instead simply laughing. He had met a lot of pent up soldiers who had heard strange rumors about mountain men such as himself during the Wide Northern War. If anything, at least this old man was more graceful about it.

"Oh this arm of mine has a lot of potential indeed. It can smash heads just as well as it can pick a lock, but it won't be picking yours, old man." Hakkon replied calmly, giving Eric a light pat on the shoulder. "Good to meet you nonetheless, warrior. I am Hakkon, prince of Balder's Peak. I could go on, but I already gave your friend over here- you still haven't told us your name by the way." He continued, glancing at Alexei for just a moment before looking back to Eric. "I gave him the whole spiel and it really wears you out having to repeat it constantly. It's no wonder the southern lords all have people whose job is to say it for them." He chuckled. Maybe one day he would have his own herald, but for now he would make do with what he had.

"So! You were telling me and lovely Vivienne here about your charge's mission." The mountain man spoke as he turned back to Alexei, resting his hands on his hips once more. "The city of Auregen, you said? The lands of Duke Bismarke. A great and powerful man, though a bit too grim for my liking. Always so stern and serious. Must be that stiff upper lip thing some Northemen have. Duke Brambur was far more personable. The man was afraid to take risks but at least he didn't seem like he had forgotten how to have fun... What business do you have there, again?" He asked after realizing he was getting sidetracked.

[Constaniana]

"Well, shut the front door. Good to see you again, Alfred. And I'm afraid Blue went her own way some time ago. But forget her. I got something way cooler to show you...I know you just went back, but could you-"

"Yes, yes. I swear, sometimes you treat me like a trained seal who does tricks on command..."

Rather reluctantly, she returned to corporeal form for Sir Veryll to see, wings out just to show off a little.

"Boom, my sword was an Angelle this whole time."

Blue, that was it! I knew it was one syllable, but I couldn't bloody remember what it wa...

Sir Veryll's thoughts were derailed as Belle revealed her true form. He certainly believed in Angelles, but he had never heard of one transforming into a sword. A soul possessing an inanimate object was one thing, but it was another thing entirely to switch between being an object and having a body of flesh and blood.

"Well, er, how do you do, Angelle?"

His suspicions were confirmed as the meeting ended. The officers from the Federation and from the Duke's household forces left with the Baron, and one of the Scarlet Knights of the Sun approached. His face did not immediately evoke a memory - Tristan hadn't been the only one to grow and change since then, after all - but his hair was strikingly familiar, and he immediately greeted them by name and went on to recount their adventures in the Memory Mountains.

"Veryll! So you became a knight? That's great news." Tristan said amicably. "As for the others, we actually separated shortly after that fight. Lis and I only met Eric and Erosen again just over a month ago in Carogne, and since then we've been tagging along with her on a diplomatic mission." He explained, gesturing towards Katya. "We took a detour to help with the Daemonne problem here in the Thin Isles, though."

"I'm glad to see you're all looking well. That's a shame your merry band broke up, though. I suppose that's how life is sometimes," said Sir Veryll, recovering his composure, "It reminds me of some scripture: 'Like unto the countless living things of the forest doth we roll into the lives of our fellows, and stay for a season. Then lo, winter cometh; behold the birds fly south, the fish swim out to sea, the flowers and insects perisheth, the trees and bears slumber, and the wolves and deer and squirrels are left alone. Yet spring shall return, with sweet blossoms and reunions, whether in the woods of this world, or those in Veridaelia's abode above.' It was written by...hm, who was it again? I can remember the whole bloody verse, but I can't remember what book it's in. Jings, that's going to bother me for weeks.

As she approached the remainders of the meeting, her eyes lit up. Tristan, Liss, and Eric were all talking with a group of knights. They stood out from the soldiers around them - somewhat more traditional, with finely trimmed suits of armor, crimson cloaks, and fine plumed silver helmets. A royal guard of some sort, if she had to guess. She attempted to pick up the pace, though the makeshift walking stick (a spear that Alexei had casually snapped in half with his bare hands) certainly didn’t help with that.

Rather reluctantly, she returned to corporeal form for Sir Veryll to see, wings out just to show off a little.

"Boom, my sword was an Angelle this whole time."

"You can't just use an honored servant of the gods as a cheap party trick, Eric!" Katya protested, though hints of a smile broke through her attempt at a stern expression.

"Well at any rate, a transforming Angelle-sword is more impressive than any party trick I've ever seen!" said Veryll, turning to look at Katya as Eric went off to flirt, "Forgive me for asking, mi'lady, but I don't believe I caught your name. Do I detect a Garmiccian accent?"

[Woodstovia]

Aerion d'Autriche
First and most beloved of Froenstia, heir to heaven, slayer of the heretics, wielder of the frozen lance of Ic'Fron, son of ice and father of cold, blazing heart of Galllia and Eresiln
The Devil's Luck


Everything ached for Aerion. His skin, his bones, his muscles, his head, even his soul seemed to throb within his very being. He supposed exerting himself in the battle aboard the Devil's Luck against the hated Watchtower had all been very heroic of him, but it hadn't been the most intelligent of moves for someone newly awoken from a coma and already dealing with injuries. What is worse he had disgraced his artistry, he was not a butcher like all the others hacking and slashing at his foes but a champion, a dancer, striding through the fray, combining the savagery of battle with beauty. In his wounded state he had become lesser, he had become like them, and that ate at his soul just as much as the injuries he had suffered.

The ship's arrival had been a subject of much joy and enthusiasm for Aerion. He had been dining on turtle soup, hard salted beef and wormy brown bread for far too long. The land was a place for relaxation which was not subject to the rocking of a boat, food that did not have to last for years, and a refuge from the god of the sea whose fury knew no bounds and would take Aerion's soul the second he dropped his guard. Although the god of the earth was not much better.

The uptick in spirits sent motivation coursing through his body, the promise and hint at something better. While the others disembarked he bathed and brushed out his pristing white hair, ridding it of the stench of salty sea-air and dousing it in perfumes from the east. He dressed in light blue velvet, a dozen grey snowflakes embroidered on his slashed doublet, a pure white cloak draped over one shoulder and was fastened with a sapphire brooch, as he strode upon the deck of The Devil's Luck he felt renewed. He breathed in the ocean's air and vowed this would be the last time as he made his way to a railing and his heart sunk.

He had never really considered where exactly they would be heading. Oh for sure he'd been told a dozen times but he'd never actually processed it. Their destination was dry land and dry land was good but he never considered it would be... This type of dry land.

They were in the North.

He bit his lip so hard warm blood filled his mouth and he glanced between the ship and the land. He could take the ship, slaughter anyone who didn't disembark, take it for his own, steer somewhere deep down south where he could spend the rest of his days. Bright green meadows, sun-lit days, ripe peaches and sweet honey, a summer that never ended. Or dull grey skies, bird-shit wherever you looked, sparse shrubby patches of grass which struggled for life, trees devoid of leaves, everything grey. This was not his home although he'd spent a lifetime or at least what felt like one in these wastes. His head was throbbing again. There were serpents and krakens and pirates afoul, he had little idea how to actually run a ship, all alone the water god would pick him off, and it would mean more salt beef, and brown bread, and turtle soup.

He disembarked, cursing quietly under his breath as the slick water of the dock soaked into his soft doe skin boots.

The knights were staring at him, staring as they all did, their eyeballs scraping their way up and down his flesh like maggots. Knights did not worry him, he had killed knights, made knights flee. His own eyes fell most harshly upon the bear that stood at the side of his "companions". These Notherners do not even pretend to be men anymore. He thought scornfully. At least the knights tried dressing as their betters. He had slit the throats of men like that once, but they were chiefs of small fishing villages, clad in sealskin, who lived in the bones of wales. The men of the mountains were something different, children, of the earth and ice.

Your bear-furs will not stop my blade. He smiled. Come the night when they were asleep this one would be upon them, fangs bared, hungry for man flesh and dark, rich blood. I'll let you have them and then carve you from balls to brain. I'll make a cloak of you and none will know.

A sharp bite of laughter bubbled from his stomach to his mouth and forced its way out. The knights shifted their attention to him and Aerion attempted a fake smile.

"Greetings Northmen. Take me to your finest tavern, if you have such a thing. I have a thirst for wine, or if you don't appreciate the stuff some ale. Me and my... Friends here slaughtered the Watchtower's pets at sea, saving your village from ruin and I mean to take my reward, I'm sure a few cups will do, I'm not a man who asks for much. Now come along." Aerion took a few steps, hoping to spur some movement from the others.

[Ameriganastan]

Aerion d'Autriche
First and most beloved of Froenstia, heir to heaven, slayer of the heretics, wielder of the frozen lance of Ic'Fron, son of ice and father of cold, blazing heart of Galllia and Eresiln
The Devil's Luck


Everything ached for Aerion. His skin, his bones, his muscles, his head, even his soul seemed to throb within his very being. He supposed exerting himself in the battle aboard the Devil's Luck against the hated Watchtower had all been very heroic of him, but it hadn't been the most intelligent of moves for someone newly awoken from a coma and already dealing with injuries. What is worse he had disgraced his artistry, he was not a butcher like all the others hacking and slashing at his foes but a champion, a dancer, striding through the fray, combining the savagery of battle with beauty. In his wounded state he had become lesser, he had become like them, and that ate at his soul just as much as the injuries he had suffered.

The ship's arrival had been a subject of much joy and enthusiasm for Aerion. He had been dining on turtle soup, hard salted beef and wormy brown bread for far too long. The land was a place for relaxation which was not subject to the rocking of a boat, food that did not have to last for years, and a refuge from the god of the sea whose fury knew no bounds and would take Aerion's soul the second he dropped his guard. Although the god of the earth was not much better.

The uptick in spirits sent motivation coursing through his body, the promise and hint at something better. While the others disembarked he bathed and brushed out his pristing white hair, ridding it of the stench of salty sea-air and dousing it in perfumes from the east. He dressed in light blue velvet, a dozen grey snowflakes embroidered on his slashed doublet, a pure white cloak draped over one shoulder and was fastened with a sapphire brooch, as he strode upon the deck of The Devil's Luck he felt renewed. He breathed in the ocean's air and vowed this would be the last time as he made his way to a railing and his heart sunk.

He had never really considered where exactly they would be heading. Oh for sure he'd been told a dozen times but he'd never actually processed it. Their destination was dry land and dry land was good but he never considered it would be... This type of dry land.

They were in the North.

He bit his lip so hard warm blood filled his mouth and he glanced between the ship and the land. He could take the ship, slaughter anyone who didn't disembark, take it for his own, steer somewhere deep down south where he could spend the rest of his days. Bright green meadows, sun-lit days, ripe peaches and sweet honey, a summer that never ended. Or dull grey skies, bird-shit wherever you looked, sparse shrubby patches of grass which struggled for life, trees devoid of leaves, everything grey. This was not his home although he'd spent a lifetime or at least what felt like one in these wastes. His head was throbbing again. There were serpents and krakens and pirates afoul, he had little idea how to actually run a ship, all alone the water god would pick him off, and it would mean more salt beef, and brown bread, and turtle soup.

He disembarked, cursing quietly under his breath as the slick water of the dock soaked into his soft doe skin boots.

The knights were staring at him, staring as they all did, their eyeballs scraping their way up and down his flesh like maggots. Knights did not worry him, he had killed knights, made knights flee. His own eyes fell most harshly upon the bear that stood at the side of his "companions". These Notherners do not even pretend to be men anymore. He thought scornfully. At least the knights tried dressing as their betters. He had slit the throats of men like that once, but they were chiefs of small fishing villages, clad in sealskin, who lived in the bones of wales. The men of the mountains were something different, children, of the earth and ice.

Your bear-furs will not stop my blade. He smiled. Come the night when they were asleep this one would be upon them, fangs bared, hungry for man flesh and dark, rich blood. I'll let you have them and then carve you from balls to brain. I'll make a cloak of you and none will know.

A sharp bite of laughter bubbled from his stomach to his mouth and forced its way out. The knights shifted their attention to him and Aerion attempted a fake smile.

"Greetings Northmen. Take me to your finest tavern, if you have such a thing. I have a thirst for wine, or if you don't appreciate the stuff some ale. Me and my... Friends here slaughtered the Watchtower's pets at sea, saving your village from ruin and I mean to take my reward, I'm sure a few cups will do, I'm not a man who asks for much. Now come along." Aerion took a few steps, hoping to spur some movement from the others.

"Hey, look who's up and at 'em."

Eric's attempt at bagging some beefcake being unsuccessful, he quickly diverted his attention to greeting his grumpy pal.

"A few cups? Nah. Me and you are gonna hit the nearest watering hole in this icebox and drink the place dry. After a proper monster slaying, you gotta get good and blotto. I remember after slaying this rampaging minotaur bandit near Visalcross. I hit the closest town's tavern and we near literally partied the place apart. Fun postscript: His wife came looking for revenge. You can guess how I got out of that one alive. Not my proudest lay, but I got out of there still breathing. If a little ashamed and sore in several places. Now, let's boogie and get sloppy!"

He swatted him on the bum and took off in the direction of what he assumed was town.

"Boy, that whole moderation thing really lasted long..."

"Moderate yourself. Nagging harpy."

[Constaniana]

"Greetings Southeman. Sorry to disappoint, Your Obtuseness, but I think we finished our stores of sherry last night with the oysters and sirloin," Sir Veryll cheerfully replied, having apparently taken a dim view of Aerion in record time, "Nevertheless, the pompous one has something resembling a point; no sense in having more of this conversation out of doors than we need to. Finding anywhere with an unoccupied bunk in Towraigth has gotten pretty tricky at this point...this town simply wasn't built to house the entire archipelago's population. It's done a good job so far, but if another settlement should fall I'm not sure where we could fit the refugees in here, and if that happens the cold might start killing more of these people than the Hellspawn. I suppose since you lot brought all those ships over we could use them as emergency quarters, but..." The knight shrugged, "Anyway, we can at least get into a hall somewhere with a fireplace for now."

With that the characters walked farther into the town. All around them was movement to and fro, undaunted by the night. Awed children, weary parents, and eligible maidens peeked out the windows or came out onto their doorsteps to catch a glimpse of the men in snappy scarlet uniforms and well-polished muskets marching down their stone streets. The horses seemed especially loud as the hussars and knights from the Duke of St. Veowulf's Own began patrolling while awaiting further orders, since there was no need for them to make haste to Mithsbow. Some doctors were talking to the proprietor of a mostly-empty shop, and appeared to reach an agreement with him to use his building as an impromptu clinic, as afterwards they grabbed some nearby local militiamen and could be overheard giving them instructions to start bringing injured people there. A few Federal musketmen appeared too unoccupied, and a sergeant shouted at them to go stand watch on the walls. Engineers from Pioneer Company, also from the ducal forces, were talking with a local official. All of them were looking at a map of Towraigth and its surroundings that one of their group was holding out in front of him, pointing at different spots. Judging from the shovels, pickaxes, mallets, and other equipment they had with them, as well as a few carts filled with tarps, lumber, and so on, they might have been trying to figure out where to set up a camp outside the walls for the brigade.

After several minutes they came one of the two taverns in Towraigth, a place named the Thundering Cabbage. One of the other Scarlet Knights with Veryll assured the newcomers that the establishment had decent food. Tugging open a heavy, thick door, they entered and made their way to the bar to see what was still available to order. It was crowded. The mood was somewhat jubilant, but still nervous about something. With plenty of enemy troops still out somewhere on their island and the islands next to them few people seemed willing to risk getting drunk in celebrating the victory they had won earlier in the afternoon. More cups seemed filled with some local drink involving a lot of goat milk or plain water rather than alcohol. Only the gaggle of young men hanging around the dart boards seemed especially bombastic. The Thundering Cabbage smelled of many things. It smelled of salt and smoke, with a piney smell from the logs on the fire. It smelled of blood and sweat from the men who still hadn't washed enough from their earlier battle today. It smelled of fish, and cautious optimism, an optimism that seemed to grow as the news reached them of a fleet from the mainland arriving and strangers armed to the teeth came through the door.

It also smelled of cabbage.

The characters would spend well over an hour in there, chatting, eating, or whatever took their fancy. As the minutes went by some other soldiers that were new in town trickled in, though they generally left after a short while, as they apparently had work they had to get back to. The locals were understandably eager to talk to the all of the newcomers, asking them all sorts of questions like how many of them there were, and thanking them for coming to drive off the Hellspawn. Hopefully they kept Eric and Aerion from getting too drunk, so that the former did not share his most disturbing sexual experiences to everyone inside and get them kicked out, and so that the latter did not murder everyone inside and get them put in front of a firing squad.

---

It was just after 6 o'clock that the heroes of this story might have felt the ground rumble, or hear some distant bangs from outside. A minute or so later the door flew open. Standing in the entryway was a trio of volunteers from St. Veowulf, weapons in hand, and looking somewhere between excited and frightened.

"Demons outside the walls! They're marching to Mithsbow!" cried one of them, a lad who appeared to be at the end of his teenage years, holding a buckler and short sword, "To arms!" He then bolted off without giving any more explanation.

"It looks like there's several hundred of the foe, though I haven't heard anyone getting a surefire count yet. Either way, we've been ordered to muster together and get in formation!" One of his fellows, appearing a year or two older, added with a bit more composure. He and the other adventurer then rushed off into the street after the first one. No doubt his halberd would get good use tonight. The patrons of the Thundering Cabbage seemed almost relieved at the news they had bore. At least now the dreadful suspense was done with, and they would settle things one way or another before the night was over.

"Well, sending Tenaembra's spawn back to their father below is just what I need to make room for dessert!" cried Veryll, having to raise his voice to be heard over the din of the crowd hurrying out of the tavern. He too sprang to his feet, scarlet cape swishing dramatically, "We'll have to come back here later tonight. Myself and the other members of my order are under a different chain of command than you lot, so I'm not sure if our paths will cross on the battlefield. May the Loyal Host be with us!" With that Sir Veryll and the other Scarlet Knights of the Sun walked out of the Thundering Cabbage. As soon as the traffic died down a bit the main characters would also exit.

Once more Towraigth was uncharacteristically busy, but now much more focused. Gone was the faffing about, trying to find where everything from the taverns to the toilets were. Now the snow crunched purposefully as handfuls of men condensed into sections, into platoons, into companies. Walking walls of pikes were built, with muskets protruding out from their centres. Hussars trotted westward down the street, five abreast, five rows deep. Horns blared and church bells rang in case there were any left in the town ignorant of the danger close at hand.

The characters followed the movement of the armed crowd to a square near a gate, where almost 300 Federal infantrymen had assembled into a pike square. In front of them the entirety of the Duke's hussars, 100 riders, were also in a formation, a wide, shallow line. Their one hundred knight counterparts were still gathering together, getting all their equipment on. On the flanks the infantry square there were the volunteers getting into as organised a group as their training permitted. Nearby the local militia seemed to mirror the formation being adopted by the Federal Army. Though they looked less uniform and more tired, Towraigth's forces had 300 pikemen of their own. A hundred warriors with swords, axes, or hammers were with them, and a hundred longbowmen. The latter wasn't such a surprising sight for a rural area like this. Gunpowder was finicky and pricey, and the weapons that used them too inaccurate for country sensibilities. Arrows that they could craft themselves would do just as fine for them as they had for their grandfathers, and presumably would for their grandsons. Their arms may have appeared antiquated, but their eyes held no fear.

"Ah, there you all are!" said a mustachioed lieutenant, briskly approaching the PC's, "Major Dukesword wanted to make sure you lot were right up at the front of the 1st Adventurer Company. I'd imagine it's so the rest of the troops don't get in the way of you casting magic every which way. Best of luck!" He pointed at the group on the left side of the Federal pike square, and then walked away just as briskly as he came. Major Skallagrim Achilles Dukesword was a common-born officer from the Duke's household. As the man given charge over the 1st Adventurer Company, one of two 150-strong groups the random volunteers from St. Veowulf had been sorted into, he was technically the party's commanding officer. They had been briefly introduced prior to setting sail, but hadn't spent any time around him on the voyage as they were on separate ships.

Nearly two dozen horses cantered into the crowded square. Most of their riders, fifteen to be exact, were lightly armoured, with only spears and sabres. Judging by the bushy beards among them they were locals, presumably retainers of the Baron. Lárentíus Van Hlojtur himself was with them as well, as were Colonel Firman and a few of his officers.

"MEN OF THE THIN ISLES, AND THOSE WHO HAVE COME TO OUR AID, TONIGHT WE REPAY THE DEBT OF BLOODSHED OWED TO US BY THE SERVANTS OF HELL! IT MAY BE BUT A FEW PENNIES WORTH FOR ALL THE HOMES THEY HAVE BURNED, THE INNOCENTS SLAIN, BUT WE SHALL BE RELENTLESS! LET THIS BE THEIR FIRST INSTALMENT OF PAIN, WITH THE REMAINING BALANCE TO BE PAID IN FULL ANOTHER DAY, WITH THE INTEREST DUE ONLY GROWING! WE SHALL DRIVE THEM FROM TOWRAIGTH AND MITHSBOW; WE SHALL DRIVE THEM FROM THIS ISLE, AND STROND, AND THE NEXT, AND THE NEXT, UNTIL WE CHASE THEM BACK TO THEIR HOMES, AND DESTROY THEM UTTERLY!" roared the Baron of Towraigth as he rode to the front of his men, the fifteen lancers following him. They all roared back in reply. Though the troops he were addressing included men from the most modern military in the world, his speech seemed like something better suited for a barbarian horde from the previous millennium.

Meanwhile, Colonel Firman rode to the front of his own troops. He spoke next, at a slightly lower volume, and with fewer capital letters.

"You heard the good baron, men! I refuse to let another town fall into enemy hands while we upon these isles! Besides, think of the embarrassment if the enemy beat us as soon as we arrived! Very bad form, very bad form indeed. I trust each one of you, whether a regular from the 53rd, or a reservist still honouring his obligation to his country, or a volunteer who bravely answered the call, to know the importance of your actions tonight. You know the duty you now have, and I trust you will fulfil it with all possible courage and zeal.

"Scouts have already deployed to better assess conditions. Hussar Company will ride out first, start harrying the hostiles. As they probably won't break from that, avoid protracted combat with any individual unit, or you'll open yourself up to getting swarmed. Both adventurer companies will move up from the main force's flanks, keep the enemy disoriented with skirmishing. All Elementals will be as close to the front as they can, to maximise shock value. Fire Elementals, set these buggers ablaze. We can't see in the dark or smell sin like you can; we need some more light if we're going to beat the tar out of these bastards. Furthermore, if we're to have the navy bombarding them then we will certainly require additional illumination. Next, 1st Battalion-A Company and 3rd Battalion-B Company will engage the foe with standard pike and shot tactics. Your Lordship, permission to incorporate your pikemen into mine?" Evidently the colonel and the nobleman had yet to properly establish a unified chain of command.

"GRANTED, COLONEL FIRMAN. MAKE CERTAIN THEY ALL STAB FIFTY DEMONS AND FIFTY HEATHENS EACH!" Lárentíus Van Hlojtur thundered, his bloodlust still raging. His men cheered again at that.

"To the best of my abilities, Your Lordship," replied the Colonel, "Well men, be sure to save some for our hosts here. Now, last of all Knight Company will deploy a bit outside the walls, so once the time is right they're close at hand to exploit a crack in the enemy formation and charge. Keep in mind it's a little over a mile to Mithsbow. Due to their ships getting hit particularly hard by those damn birds the 1st Battalion-B Company and 2nd Battalion-C Company have too many injured to be combat-ready. Third Battalion-C Company, as well as remaining support units and local forces will hold their position here in town. May the gods protect us all tonight, soldiers of Galllia. TO BATTLE!"

Once more a cheer went up, drumbeats began, and the western gate of Towraigth opened. The hussars set off at a brisk trot, saving their steed's energy for later. The Baron and his riders went with them. Snow flew up in the wake of their hooves, and their hot breath froze in the air. Only a few inches of snow had fallen, so mobility was thankfully unimpeded. Then it was both Adventurer Companies' turn to venture forth. Joined by Towraigth's unmounted fighters, they marched out into the night, through white snow that would soon turn red, blue, and black.

Walking from Towraigth to Mithsbow would generally take a little over twenty minutes. With the brisk pace they found themselves going at the group could expect themselves to arrive in a little over fifteen minutes instead. The road they took ran alongside the coast, overlooking "cliffs" 3 yards high that lead down to a stony beach. Few words were said; only the sea seemed to have much to say, continually sending forth a faint breeze onto the land. Lisoette was glad she had gotten her new white and green cloak in St. Veowulf; she hardly felt any chill with it wrapped around her. Given how thick it was, it might even have been able to shield her from an enemy attack.

Mrs. Frost had been in hundreds of fights by now, but she still felt apprehension as she walked alongside Tristan and the others. Thinking about it more, she reckoned it might have been due to this being a pitched battle. Beating up a few dozen Watchtower nutjobs in a laboratory or in an alleyway with just her and Tristan, or even fighting a gigantic lone monster on a beach, was a very different experience than a melee on an open field with hundreds fighting on both sides. She squeezed her husband's hand extra-tightly for reassurance. I'll be just fine. This just means there's more targets to zap...yeah, that's it. Goodness, I hope I don't hit anyone good by mistake.

As they drew nigh unto Mithsbow first the report of musketfire could be faintly heard. Next a general din could be heard of distant shouting, and the clashing of wood, metal, stone and bone. The more they walked on the more distinct those sounds became, and the more the air began to reek of something foul. At last, up ahead in the moonlight one could see the walls of a town, and a seething, violent mass of creatures. Taking a closer look at the horde now, it seemed that the initial report of it being "several hundred" was an underestimate. It looked closer to 3,000.

"St. Veowulf's mercy..." someone in the crowd of volunteers exclaimed at the frightful sight. They were now getting close enough to see how their enemies were equipped. The moonlight glinted off dark coats of chain mail. Long, thin pikes with misshapen blades on their end and chipped, rusted swords waved about in a frenzy. Even though it was night there was no mistaking the gleaming amber eyes, the silhouette of horns, or the infernal red skin. They were demons.

The hussars, the Baron, and his lancers had cut down plenty of them, but now the Hellspawn seemed to be organising themselves somewhat. Though the Baron was casting Earth magic, flinging the demons around and crushing their skulls, there were simply too many of them for a lone warrior to drive back. Seeing their fellow creatures get killed only riled them up more; breaking the morale of demons was a tricky matter that had plagued Gaiacan warriors for ages. It certainly did not help matters that the Daemonnes generally tried to breed out the capacity for fear from their servants, or the brain power required to understand that their miserable lives were in danger. The rest of the cavalry had been slowly pulling back as the easy pickings dried up, but upon seeing the next wave of friendly troops they remained where they were and began getting into formation again. A large group of demons, about 3 dozen, noticed the new arrivals as well. Something seemed to make them now go absolutely berzerk; perhaps it was the scent of so many Elementals bunched up together. Whatever the cause was, they charged full speed towards the heroes, waving their shabby weapons furiously.

[Ameriganastan]

"I'm not gonna lie, Belle. I kind of missed this."

The entire walk to the battlefield, Eric had been a few things he normally wasn't. Quiet, focused, not hitting on any attractive person in arms reach. Stopping to encourage the more afraid looking volunteer soldiers, offering proper tips on sword wielding to the younger volunteers, just very un-Eric like.

"I must say, you are acting odd. We've known each other for almost 20 years and I've never seen that look in your eyes."

The look in his eyes was best described as 'Steely'. Dead focused on the task at hand.

"Well, this isn't one of our usual scuffles. No, this is a proper battle. Brave men and women lined up to fend off a menace charging at their gates. And this time, I'm not going to be waiting behind the wall for them to come. No made up Godly magic is gonna stop these fools."

A foursome of monsters seemingly very excited for the rumble were already approaching. Right for him.

"Time to show these tykes how I survived all that soldiering."

With a small craning of his neck to pop a crick out, he suddenly moved like water. A less experienced soldier probably couldn't even track his moves. The first monster found his head lopped off as he raised his blade for an overhead strike. The one behind him swung from the side, Eric deftly moving Belle like she was an extension of his own arm as he sliced the beast's own arms off in one fluid strike. Three and four wisely decided to attack together.

"Pathetic."

He dropped down as they both swung at him, cutting them both off at the knees. He rose back up, wicking the blood off of Belle and beckoning for his next challengers.

"Anyone else want a go at me?"

[Zarkenis Ultima]

---

---

The march from Towraight to Mithsbow was cold, damp, and for many of the adventurers and soldiers gathered there to relieve the Thin Isles from their predicament, miserable. The Champion of Ice, however, found all of these factors less uncomfortable than the vast majority of the warriors around him. He had always found the presence of the cold a boon rather than a curse, and today was no exception; in fact, perhaps today it was especially important to him. He and the rest of the party were marching into what promised to be their largest battle yet, and for him, the opportunity to be more or less in his element during such a trying time was nothing short of a blessing. Froenstia willing, he would emerge victorious that night.

On his right hand, he held the shaft of Fenrirtusk tightly, while his left grasped his wife's hand just as tightly as he walked beside her towards the coming battle. More blessings, both of them, more than he thought he deserved. But as he marched under the shrouded moon, with nary a sound but the whispers of the sea, his mind began to wander and he began to wonder how common such a thing might be, to head into battle with your lover at your side. A quick glance around made it clear that most of the warriors on this expedition, whether members of the military or otherwise, were men, and there did not seem to be any two soldiers or adventurers that were quite as close as he and Lisoette were.

After pondering it for a few moments, he decided it ultimately did not matter. It was far from the strangest thing about his marriage, after all.

Although the minutes before their arrival to Mithsbow seemed to go by so slowly as to be almost painful, time as always was a fickle thing, and as soon as the sound of muskets firing and the noise of hundreds of men and monsters locked in a bitter battle for their survival, Tristan felt that the time for idle thoughts was gone much too soon. There was no use complaining about it, however. Now was not the time for that, now was the time to stand his ground and show courage, a trait he hadn't always held as he did now. It was not long until the enemy came into view, and as the moon's light fell upon them, it was plain to see that they were demons. Demons just like the ones he had fought in their own turf during his first adventure, when he followed his lovestruck friend into an Inferno simply so that he may find a lead to his childhood friend's whereabouts.

It was an amusing thought, that all of his greatest trials had come when he was fighting for another's sake. Whether one opted to believe he now fought in service to the Duke of St. Veowulf or the Baron of Towraight, tonight was no exception. The thought did not weigh heavily on him, however; perhaps it was for the best that his life was such that he could devote himself to lessening the strife of others instead of having to quell his own.

Rather than jump straight into the fray like Eric had done, he figured he might at least try to coordinate the group's efforts. With a group of demons as large as the one laying siege to Mithsbow, it paid to be careful. "Let's advance together. The demons will have less chance to pick us off that way."

Unfortunately, it seemed that Eric wasn't the only one itching to get the party started.

Not far from Tristan and company, the hide-clad man who had spoken with Alexei earlier that day marched at the front of the 1st Adventurer Company. He had remained completely silent throughout, seemingly immersed in his own thoughts as the volunteers trekked from Towraight to Mithsbow. As a man of the North himself, he was accustomed to the bitter cold that winter brought, and though the air he was used to was far dryer than this, he had little reason to complain. At the same time, as one who had been alone at the time of volunteering to go on the expedition, he did not have any previous acquaintances to converse with to pass the time. On top of that, the friendly, carefree disposition he had displayed earlier in the day seemed to have dissipated, leaving a stoic determination in its place that did not waver one bit when the demon horde was finally spotted. The sight surprised him, naturally, as these were the first demons he had ever seen, but he was not frightened. Compared to the beast he fought when he was but a boy, they were not as intimidating.

The largest issue, of course, was their apparent numbers, which dwarfed the ranks of the Duke, the Baron and the Colonel together. That only made it a more interesting challenge, though. One that he knew would be remembered as a part of the mountain prince's story one day.

While Eric nimbly began weaving his way through the demon horde and Tristan called for unity, Hakkon instead muttered a small prayer to the Loyal Host in an old dialect of High Gallish that had been preserved by the Valtivar of Balder's Peak and the other mountain clans of Albrion.

"Father of Mountains, I leave my life in your hands." He concluded in a solemn voice.

Then, suddenly, he stomped on the ground hard. A flat slab of stone came loose from the road under his feet, which had been buried by the snow, and he caught it as it fell back, using his Elemental powers to fashion a large shield from it. The mountain man then took a deep breath and released an animalistic scream of anger before charging towards his enemy. Those demons unfortunate enough to be caught in his path were sent flying back or shoved aside. As his momentum depleted, he instead planted his feet on the ground and used his immense strength to hurl aside no less than three unfortunate Hellspawn that happened to be in front of him. Though they were unlikely to die, they had lost their weapons and he was certain they would at least be disoriented by the rough landing. Perhaps broken bones were a possibility, but Hakkon didn't know how resilient these things were.

Of course, having rushed headfirst into the group of three dozen demons that had gone after them, he now had several demons circling him. One of them lunged at him, bringing his jagged blade down in an overhead slash, but the Earth Elemental simply put up his right arm in a defensive position, the demon's weapon failing to cleave through the smooth grey stone. Next, he bashed the creature's brains in with his shield.

As the fiend collapsed, Hakkon roared triumphantly before throwing himself at the nearest foe.

Tristan watched these events transpire with dismay. Demons surrounding a member of their group was exactly what he had hoped to avert with his suggestion, but it seemed some of the Elementals on board were too hot-blooded to listen to reason at a moment like this.

"Or that. That works too." He said with a sigh, before turning to Lisoette and kissing her cheek. "See you on the other side, my love." He told his wife.

Then, he too ran forward, following in the footsteps of his two comrades in arms. Rather than wait to get in melee range, however, Tristan reared back his left arm and focused his magic on the tip of Fenrirtusk before hurling the holy glaive forward. The weapon embedded itself on the ground by the demonic frontline and released the element contained within, leaving several of the fiends frozen solid. The Ice Elemental did not stop until he reached his weapon and pulled it free from the ground, just in time to block an incoming blow with its shaft, stopping the blade of a crude pike in its tracks.

[Kassaran]

The thick aroma of wood with years of rot and decay behind it filled Erosen's nose. His eyes were still sealed shut, crusted with thick layers of mud and dirt leaving his mind to reel within the hammering vice that was his skull. Blearily, warily, his eyes opened and he immediately screwed them shut again as the world turned to white sheets of brilliant pain around him. Sunlight streamed in through open holes in the roof of the strange shack he was in. A voice, soft and smooth as silk called to him from across the small space. It sounded... familiar.

"Oh, you're awake so soon," the voice said, and Erosen could feel a smooth, gentle hand brushing his cheek, followed by a damp cloth wiping the grime from his face, "When you washed up on the shore I wasn't even sure if you were alive, but you recover so fast. You must be so strong. Nobody's come back to claim you or see if you're alive. I think it's a shame whoever you were with before seems to have abandoned you, but you can always depend on me. I think you're very special, and I'll never let you go. I'll always be there in your heart. Goodness, I suppose this sounds so forward, but it must have been fate that brought us together, wouldn't you say?" If the Darkling ventured to open his eyes again he would see a vaguely familiar-looking woman kneeling at his bedside. Her skin was clear and pale, while her hair was long, straight, and black as coal. She was wearing a modest, pleasant peasant dress, but it was impossible to ignore the sinful proportions that were concealed within.

He shuddered, there was something strangely soothing about her touch, about the tones she used. He slowly let his eyelids flutter open again, as he felt his heart slowly grow dull and cold. He was alone, to an extent, and as he let his eyes explore the room, he had to force them to move from the woman, to the windows and about the small space. The cabin was well into its later years and yet the woman appeared to live here by herself. A widow? His eyes jumped back to her as she smiled plainly back at him. The dress she wore was tempting to further investigate, but there was something about her face that he couldn't quite shake. Something familiar. The haze in his mind began to return and he rolled onto his side to let a gut-wrenching dry-heave out.

He felt sick suddenly, probably too much movement, a concussion or the ilk. He looked at his hands, they were slick with... blood, or ichor, something that she had yet to remove from him. Or had failed to remove during his convalescence. Or had decided not to remove upon seeing his own condition and in her lack of fear, or horror, or revulsion, he looked up with a note of hope. She hadn't looked upon him as some beast and for a brief moment the faintest glimmer of a future perhaps here danced across his mind. It promptly devolved into another fit of hacking and heaving as he had attempted to get out of the bed yet again. He looked briefly at his arms, but the signs of his degraded condition had almost fully disappeared. There was, but to show for it, a simple series of scars which looked more ceremonial, or runic in their shape, but he knew their origin well. Cursework. He grimaced and laid back again, trying to steady himself and regain control of his frantically beating heart. Outside, he could hear the first peals of a distant thunderstorm begin.

"It sounds like there's a storm coming in. Don't worry, you'll be safe in here with me. Your old life might have been filled with rejections and pain, but with me you're strong and safe," the women cooed. Again she gently ran her hand upon Erosen's scarred skin. There was a rustling sound moving towards her, and a large black cat nuzzled up against her, purring. For a split second Erosen might have sworn there was a horrid serpent in its place, but after he blinked the feline returned. The animal's owner tittered at the momentary confusion that spread across her guest's face. "Oh, don't mind my pet, dear. He just likes some company, that's all. Zloivischpent, this is..."

She trailed off, evidently expecting Erosen to introduce himself to the creature. There came some bizarre screeches from outside, a dissonant mix of what sounded of wolves howling, mosquitoes humming, and rotten vegetables squelching, preceded by more claps of thunder. She walked over to the window, looked outside with annoyance, then slammed the shutters closed and pulled the curtains. It was now rather dim in the cottage, and she lit what few candles she had in her humble circumstances. The flames seemed to have a slightly green tint to them, but that was probably the colour of the wax itself.

"I'm sorry, I didn't introduce myself either. I'm Leilly. Who might you be, handsome?"

His head swam, something seemed off, but it quickly left him as she spoke. There was a warmth to her words and- the cat... It's tongue lapped out briefly, the eyes seeming to blink strangely before it wound back behind Leilly's legs. The act only sent another sidelong glance from the man up her form, until he suddenly felt a panic, a strange gripping terror and his mind turned to her words. The storm outside seemed only to be gathering in strength as the wood of the structure shifted again but what had struck him so roughly was the insinuation of his abandonment.

"I- I'm Erosen,. I, I was left behind? My friends, the ship, did they make it?"

He rolled into his side, a wave of nausea rolling across his body from the act as he tried to find his feet and roll out of the bed. His head ached as he fought the sensations of what surely had to be some sort of head injury. He didn't even remember washing up, unless she'd retrieved him from- where? Where was he? His head turned slowly back towards the now closed window, then back to the candles, and finally settled on Leis- Leilly? She looked so familiar and the cat, it was, strange, long and- no it was normal. This was all perfectly normal. He was safe with her.

"Erosen...what a handsome name," Leilly purred, with a voice as sweet as syrup...an excessively sugary one that just gave one a stomachache, "Well, darling Erosen, I'm afraid I didn't see a ship. You were all alone when you washed ashore. It seemed like you had been drifting in the sea for days..." Now she sounded on the verge of tears, her plump ruby lips trembling, "Oh, it's just too cruel to think about! How did you become so separated from them? I think they tossed you overboard, without even the decency to give you a boat! Those heartless fiends left you to die! If I hadn't found you those wretches would have gotten their wish!"

A vision appeared to the wildling for a few moments of a familiar ship with a familiar crew. They were consumed in debauched revelry, and seemed oblivious to a lone figure floundering in the waves, waving his arms and pleading for help. At last a slender young woman with light blue hair noticed, but all she offered was a pointing finger and a psychotic laugh. Quick as a flash Leilly's sadness disappeared, replaced by a bewitching smile. Under normal circumstances that would have been rather disconcerting, but for whatever reason Erosen's brain was struggling to make that connection. Thunder cracked outside.

"But you don't need to worry, my precious Erosen! You have me now, and that's all you'll ever need, forever. You were robbed of your past, but I freely give you your future, your destiny. I can make you so strong, and loved. You'll never be the lonely savage in the woods, terrified of men with fire. I can finally satisfy the hunger that consumes you. Every kind of hunger. I will reward your service as you truly deserve, not sending you from world to world on a wild goose chase. Pretty please, won't you swear yourself to me, Erosen?" Leilly implored with dulcet tones. There was a persistence reminiscent of a hostess offering a guest a fifth slice of chocolate cake. Another fleeting vision passed through the guest's mind. He was tall, handsome, and strong, as though he were carved from black marble. He was resplendent in a suit of armour as hard as diamond and dark as night. He had a palace all of his own, legions awaiting his every command. Knowledge of all manner of great and forbidden things filled his mind. Power coursed through his veins, making him feverish with its intensity.

Zloivischpent the...cat...was staring at the guest very intently, the way he might look at a fat mouse. The candles seemed both dimmer and greener now, yet it now felt as though they were much warmer, giving off a sultry, humid heat. More thunder snarled outside. The wind shrieked. A sickeningly sweet smell seemed to emanate from his hostess. For a moment the same blue-haired lady from before seemed to appear beside Leilly. It was as though she were pleading with Erosen, tears running down her cheeks, and clarity seemed to trickle back into his thoughts. The black-haired woman had a split second of irritation spread across her face. She waved her hand as though she were fanning away smoke, and the interloper vanished, and Erosen's mind was foggy once more.

"Be mine...forever."

His eyes were bleary, the oppressively sweet and warm sensation of her voice suddenly felt sticky and sappy, like the digestive system of a pitcher plant, and his mind cleared for a moment. It wasn't calm, or reason, it was something more primal that had slowly awoken through those words of Leilly's. In fact, as he began to swim through those memories, an image from years past began to slowly return and the haunting spectre that had chase him across the plane's of Hell and Gaiaca came into focus.

He blinked once and the cat wavered intensely and the room shook. The woman staggered and look d about, her face suddenly darkening as she suddenly looked not as sweet as she'd tried to appear before. Her features sharpened and her smile became a fierce snarl as the enchantment broke around them and the roof began to rattle ferociously.

He was being hunted, and he knew his pursuer, her face cruelly shifting from alarm and annoyance, to satisfaction in believing she'd cornered Erosen finally where he was most vulnerable. He didn't know how, but the sounds of the storm from outside he had heard only a few times before when he'd been in Hell. It had been within the Realm of the Mistress of Nightmares, his patroness herself, Leistella.

"I- I don't know... Augh!"

His head reeled from a stabbing blow that came from within. As he moved from his bed, the walls shook and trembled and wavered, the whole structure threatening to collapse and perhaps only the magic infused into the building had kept it from doing as much. As he tried to remember the face of the woman he'd seen beside Leistella for a brief moment, her laugh pierced his concentration and he rolled off the bed and onto a now cold and hardened ground.

"Oh, don't worry Erosen. We can spend all the time you want playing this little game. After your friends left you for dead, I had a few of my finest retrieve you. You really must be careful-"

He smashed his hands into the ground, a pulse of Dark Element rippling out from around himself, slamming into the walls of the shack and reverberating off of them, their strength petering out and slowly being dragged towards the towering daemoness where she now stood over Erosen. Her dress slowly began to shift into something longer, more flowing, and more suitable to a being of her status. Her hair coiling and flowing and the cat elongating into its true form left tendrils of Dark Element pooling about them in space to evaporate harmlessly as her hands brought Erosen's own power to bear.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. I thought that harlot trained you better than that? Is this how a fallen Elemental thinks? You had no one and I gave you everything and this is how you repay me?"

He didn't know how he knew, but that woman- her face, her name. He needed to remember it. Struggling to his feet, he staggered to the door. It was an exit in a way, and if he could just make it to an Inferno, he could escape. Maybe, if his luck held out, he could break whatever other enchantments she used but even as he thought it, the fog began to return as he reached for the door and his vision swam with tears as a headache coupled with Leistella's laughter rang out.

"You still seem to have some essence of Nature in you...after all, you keep trying to crawl away from me like a worm. Stop demeaning yourself like this. Let me give you your dignity back," Leistella insisted, "You can't escape my power her."

Without explanation the door inexplicably caught on fire and flew through the room into the opposite wall, and the shutters were smashed open, as if grenades were raining down around the cottage. The sneer on the arch-daemonness's face was replaced with brief confusion, followed by outrage at what had happened. Before she could apprehend him Erosen had managed to scurry through the door, out into the terrible storm.

"Oh my, you ditched me on our date? How rude," She fumed, "You're going to have to try harder than that..." Though there was now plenty of physical distance between the two of them, her threats seemed to come into Erosen's ears anyhow. The land outside was filled with gardens of sand, glass shards flying in the tempest, petrified tree trunks, and treacherous unseen pits. But a strange-smelling fog rolled in, and Erosen's surroundings changed to something more familiar. The air thickened and then grew familiar, as the salty spray of the sea filled his nostrils and he found himself falling out of a small and cramped barrel.

The docks were a teeming mass of demons and people, humans stood on every street corner fighting for their lives as the sounds of the dying filled the air. Some guards were pinned behind a throng of demons that were slowly cleaving through their ranks, fire and ash filling the sky with a hellish glow that illuminated the whole port. Erosen stood, trying to understand it all, the vague feeling of familiarity, and the heavy cloak which hung about his shoulders seeming to only weigh down on him more. Across his back was a quiver of thirty or so arrows and gripped in his hands was a long bow he'd strung and quickly brought to the ready. A young man ran past him, fear in his eyes as a demonic entity emerged from the smoke behind him and growled menacingly. The soft cooing laughter of Leistella spurred Erosen into action and the arrow was loosed before he'd realized he'd even nocked it. The haft of the arrow sunk deep into the thigh of the encroaching monster, but the pain seemed only to incense it to move faster. A second and third arrow came whistling through the air as Erosen backed up and the demons nearby finally turned to run at him.

He swung outward, a mass of dark element rippling from his cloak and sending the first grouping of demons flying as the familiar clacking footfalls of heeled boots slowly closed from behind him. Looking over his shoulder for only a second, it was the opening a daemonic sorcerer needed to hurl a curse at the momentarily distracted Darkling. The sudden compression of his chest as his ribs were forced against one another and the jarring sensation of being picked up and shaken like a rattle, filled Erosen with waves of nausea and agony. Landing spread-eagle and sliding a few feet, he quickly jumped back up, staggering and leaning against the burning wreck of a nearby wagon. Looking down, he realized he'd only gone a short distance from his start point, and there amongst the smoke and ruins was that single, lone figure still walking after him. Stepping forward, he stumbled over something, and rolling over, realized it was a familiar face, the man whom had run past him earlier, dead and pale among the many other corpses that littered the city streets.

"You can't save them Erosen, they're dead because of you. It's all you bring with these little temper tantrums of yours and you still fail to realize it. You know, when I first started helping you, I thought you'd actually appreciate me or something, but what was I to expect from someone who turned against their own goddess. I guess I'm just another tool for you to use, right sweetling? Well, that's alright, our master will sort you right out."

The world erupted around Erosen as Dark Element spilled out from Leistella and rushed towards him in a billowing black cloud of smoke and ichor. He coughed and blinked, the fog that had already hung over the scene had only grown acrid with the hellfire and soot. Tears streamed from his eyes and made mud across his cheeks as he attempted to navigate his way through the scene. His hands suddenly made contact with a rocky wall and he felt his way along, his feet plodding against stone flooring. He wasn't sure, but the intense feeling of familiarity only grew with each step as he made his way through the small alleyway, and looked up only to realize he wasn't in the town anymore.

The low cave roof was worn away by the years and proof of habitation was evident everywhere. His mind searched his memories for where it had all been seen before, but the lance of ice and fire that Leistella had sunken into him with her curse speared his thoughts and skewered them with an agonizing pain. He groaned and stumbled through the tunnel until he came to an old familiar scene. There was broken cages and vats. Men were laying dead and shredded across them, their tattered grey robes and clothing painted with blood. In the corner stood their murderer, but Erosen turned away, knowing what came next as the final man was slain. He blinked furiously, the pain and anger in his mind giving way to an intense shame, guilt, frustration. The soft clack of heeled boots on the ground behind him confirmed what he'd begun to suspect... or perhaps hope.

"Heh, you're not going to make this easy then? Fine, I'll find my way out of my own brain myself you miserable bi- auugh"

He groaned as another stabbing sensation of an icepick surged through his mind and he took off running. Her laugh rang in his ears as he wound his way through the tunnels, more and more hearing the snarling and feral growls of someone he did not want to remember, someone he never wanted to become... *again*. The sounds of fighting grew louder, his mind remembering slowly as images began to flash through his head, the world warping and tearing in nauseating whirlpools of color and sound. His stomach heaved as he felt himself double over and retch. Her damned curses were becoming stronger and the maze she'd made of his mind with her sorcery had begun to take its toll on his ability to resist her as that same sickly-sweet voice filtered through the cacophony of fiendish noises.

"Erosen, dear. Let's not be this way to each other, I could be so much better to you than that girl ever was. We could be so much more, together, for the dark father and rule in my realm as mistress and servant. You're only hurting yourself worse by resisting me like this, you're practically dripping with Dark Element and even so continue to resist the call, that strength of will is almost... intoxicatingly tempting."

He fell to his hands and knees, his groaning becoming a scream to screen out her words, but still that sound of her laughter, the soft footfalls in the Darkness and fog shrouding and covering him drew his mind into frenzied madness and panic as he lashed out. A slash across the void and the thin purple haze took form as an extended blade across the distance. The Daemonness deftly parried the blow aside and simply continued to walk forward, the very act seeming to be done with the desire to simply have something to do. As powerful as she was, she was still in his mind now that he'd been able to break free of her Charm, but it didn't mean he'd evicted her and he searched his mind for a name. A focus, a reason, someone who could help him and free him from this nightmare. His mind flashed with faces, emotions, expressions. There was fear and terror spreading across the faces of a crowd of children as he ripped an imp from their number and sent it screaming back to Hell. A mob of angry villagers demanding he leave after having destroyed a phantom haunting their ancestral burying grounds.

Then, there she was. The girl he'd seen, that had begun to break apart the demonic enchantment Leistella had cast, that had become some sort of beacon and yet for what reason he couldn't remember. Why had she been so important, why was she there, now, right here next to him? He was a monster, he'd murdered and killed and been spiteful and hateful. His pride, his wrath, it had been his downfall and he'd sunk so far into the wrong and dark ways of the world for it. She couldn't ever know, so why didn't she run? Why didn't she scream in terror? That face, it looked at him, not with the horror he'd known, but with a pity and... and... his chest wrenched and stomach clenched as Leistella's booted toe sunk into his ribs and the collapse of the Dark Elemental burst gathered round her leg sunk into him. Spinning through the air, he slammed against a stone column and fell to the ground.

*What's happening? He's seizing! Someone hold him down!*

His mouth filled with bile, blood, and froth as he choked on empty air. His lungs burned and his body ached as the feeling of the Void wrapped about him and Leistella's voice filled his mind with a disappointed tone.

"Oh, you poor thing, still reaching out for an empty hope? You thought you could be redeemed, but honey, you know that's not going to happen. Your soul and life belong to me. I saved you from that wretched little existence your goddess had provided. You were nothing before me, no one could love you, care for you, your own so-called friends abandon you or send you to die because they don't care. You're just a tool Erosen, nothing more. A tool that's been broken so many times, but I can fix you, the father can fix you and make you whole. He can make you how you were meant to be, more powerful than any of your friends, and more powerful than even that false master you serve. His little act of defiance won't hold out forever and you're but a disposable knife for him to wrench into the back of the friends he loves."

Erosen rolled, the sounds of his ragged breaths filling his ears, and he flung up both arms towards Leistella, bathing the Daemonness in a dark and roiling cloud of Dark Element that pooled around her. She lifted an eyebrow in mock amusement, or perhaps an appraisal of the act itself, before waving a hand and pulling the spell from the air even as Erosen had begun to mutter the Ancient Tongue, and rebound it into a curse of her own. His eyes widened, fear filling him and he struggled to take a kneeling position, hoping to weather some of the incoming attack, but the blow never came. Instead, he looked up and found that the hall of stone columns and pillars he'd found was aflame. Demons and humans battled one another, Daemonnic soldiers fought with great suits of armor and blades forged of dark black metal, cleaving through guards dressed in colors he didn't recognize.

At the end of the massive hall though, he recognized her once again, the girl was atop a large platform, an older man wielding a blade and whirling it about in an impressive show of force while light and wind whirled in a firestorm at the edge of Erosen's vision. At the center of the mob was a man with a great silver lance, and by his side lay the body of a young Daemonette. Her face was empty, vacant, but the expression told him she'd died scared and suddenly a cold heat rose from within him. Terror, fear, rage, anger, frustration, shame, guilt. He did it, he'd killed her, ripped out her heart and... the world shook and he shook violently as his eyes fell to his right hand, still outstretched where the young Daemonness must have stood moments before. Leistella was nowhere to be seen, but in his hand was a bleeding mass of flesh and-

White filled his vision as the silver lance speared through his chest and reached down to grab at the haft. Dark Element spilled from the wound, wrapping about him like some sort of living thing, his chest burned with anguish and he spun, the force of the action sending the man whom had plunged the weapon into him, flying across the distance. At the raised dais where the girl had stood, now were two other men alongside her. One was younger than the seasoned soldier and perhaps about Erosen's own age, but looked nothing like him. His vision had slowly begun to grow violet and crimson, the world shifting and stretching in unnatural ways as he heard a screaming he knew to be his own reach out across the distance. The last figure on the dais turned, black robes and Dark Element flowed out from him and his details were shrouded in the dark mists of the abyss. His voice was rough, choppy, short and he spoke a tongue Erosen recognized but could not- no, he did understand it. The girl looked towards him and raised her hands, but a wave from the figure in black sent her flying and for a moment seeing the act of violence against her, Erosen thought lucidly. The anger, the hatred, it did not cloud his mind, but sharpened it and for a moment he knew her name before the world went to crimson and his arms raised without his permission.

The limbs were changed, torn and shredded, new growth and muscle had pushed at the tattered flesh and created something new, something abominable from his body. Leistella's curse, this vision of what he would become and he shuddered violently within himself, trying to break free of it, but the nightmare continued as he walked forwards. The black robed man had dispatched the older warrior now, leaving only the man before what Erosen could now see was a broken throne. He was on his knees, begging for mercy and the man turned to regard Erosen as he stepped beside him. Black wings spilled out from Erosen's back, torn and ragged but massive and talons scraped the very stone blocks he'd stood upon. He was powerful, all-powerful, something beyond what any normal Dark Elemental could handle and he smiled wickedly as the pain fuelled his rage. This man beside him was a friend, his ally. They served the same master and his dark robes and Dark sorcery proved it. He nodded and turned to regard the pleading wretch before him.

He was an Elemental, disgusting and smelling of the Loyal Host. Erosen's mind sang with joy at the thought of rending the man from head to foot and so he raised an arm and cleaved down. From within the depths of his mind, the last vestiges of his shrinking consciousness thought only one name as he began to sink into the abyss.

*Katya*

---

"CLEAR THE ROOM! I MUST EXORCISE HIM ALONE!"

In spite of the many years of experience possessed by the medics attending to Erosen, what was happening to him was far out of their league compared to setting a broken bone or patching up a stab from a pike. Holding him down as he inexplicably had a seizure wasn't too different from holding a patient down for an amputation or extracting musketballs. What was highly abnormal for them was the patient suddenly coming out of said seizure by bolting upright, Dark magic covering his eyes, crackling around his clenched fists, and even tainting his breath as he panted like a sled-dog. This alarming state of affairs silenced any doctor who might have said a holy man should let them get on with their work. The fact that this particular holy man was taller than all of them, covered in plate armour, and had Fire glimmering across his body helped his case considerably.

With everyone gone in the room except the Darkling and the Messenger, the blazing paladin seized both of Erosen's wrists, juicing them with the faintest amount of magic possible. He had no intention of burning Erosen to death, but he knew a fleeting singe was pretty good at jolting him back to his senses.

"EROSEN! CONTROL YOURSELF!" the Messenger shouted, releasing his grip on one wrist to bring his blazing, gauntlet-clad fist flying towards Erosen's face. At the last moment before impact he halted it suddenly, hushed the magic, and gave Erosen a mundane, armoured flick to the forehead, "Easy, Erosen. No need to sink your own blasted ship. You wouldn't want to give that sea demon you tried so hard to kill the satisfaction, would you? Calm yourself, friend. You're awake again..." He sighed through his helmet.

Erosen's chest heaved with deep and shuddering breaths, his hair was matted to his face in thick and sweaty clumps which were now slowly beginning to slide back into place. He blinked furiously, the tears barely contained and his head aching as the last echoes of the nightmare faded. He was awake, for sure, and he registered the flick between his brows with a soft grimace and a sigh. His eyes shut as the light in the room began to return to normal, the Dark Element he'd released having slunk back to its caster and settled across his aura. He shifted in his cot and swung his legs over the edge, worried for a moment he'd feel the same nauseating sensation he'd had when he'd 'awoken' in the dream. No such sensation came again and he let his face fall into his hands, elbows pressed into the tops of his knees and simply cradled his head as he nursed his consciousness back to full awareness.

"It was her again, wasn't it? The Nightmare Queen...well, I probably didn't need to clarify, did I? I can practically smell her overbearing pheromones on you, and I don't think there's anyone else in all of Hell's depths that hunts our merry band with that same degree of obsession. She's only gone after my dreams a handful of times and it still makes me nearly vomit thinking about it; I can't imagine having her lying in wait every time I close my eyes. I understand why you always look so tired. At least when she goes for the Conquistador he has someone in there fighting beside him, but you've had to do it all alone. Maybe that's the trick for keeping that witch shut out of your mind, finding a better woman to dream about. Well, if we don't find the army-sized portal we need here, Loyal Host forbid, then we can still try finding you a bonny lassie, eh?"

That gave Erosen a spike of amusement, he was only just able to hold onto the last few scraps of the night terror, but in a way he figured perhaps he'd found one already. A few moments of silence elapsed, and the Messenger pulled off his helmet. Erosen's head lifted and his eyes searched the knight's face for a moment, the bleary-eyed haze that had settled across his mind having been burned away as fog before the sun, his wrists faintly ached but it was nothing serious. The Messenger's eyes similarly searched Erosen's own expression, trying to read what was going on, trying to understand and empathize with the Darkling, and finding the spark of life and intelligence returning to him quickly, nodded his head and continued. He still struggled to find words or his voice, as his tongue felt swollen and his throat dry, so he simply nodded and reached over to grab a mug of what he hoped was refreshments. He was fortunately not disappointed as the cool liquid poured down his throat and he glanced back towards the walking suit of armor and divinity.

"I was joking, as indicated by the position of my eyebrows and my so-called cheeky expression," he clarified, before putting his helmet back on, "How I am supposed to work on a sense of humour if I'm always stuck in this? The life of a Pioneer Knight is struggle unending, truly. Well, since you've settled down I figure I should tell you we've landed in Towraigth as of a short while ago. I told the others I'd stay here to keep an eye on you until you regained consciousness. Besides, I thought to myself it might be slightly easier keeping somewhat of a low profile if I wasn't present for the first wave of introductions between dignitaries.

"I'm not sure when the army we've come with will first move, but at least for now the Pioneer Knights should be able to get our bearings somewhat, figure out how we're going to get to and investigate this Inferno. Given that I had to get flashy with my magic in saving Sergeant Daegal the Colonel will probably want to put me at the front as a shock trooper, but you and the others should hopefully be able to position yourselves more as scout units. I can already feel far more magic from here than I had expected, of many sorts. This place is old, and I doubt it's the first time the hordes of Hell have besieged it. Do you need anything before I go out for some air and tell those medics you frightened half to death that I cleansed you of wicked spirits in the name of Pryastar, my friend?"

The soft, yet distinctly grating, if not wheezing sound of a rough chuckle that developed into a quiet laugh was Erosen's first response as his eyes screwed shut and he began to get up out of the bed. His legs were weak and loose about the knees, but he'd find his strength sooner than later if he kept searching for it with some stretches. Twisting and pulling at the various limbs, he felt muscles slip back into place and rubbed at where the knots were too stiff to easily correct with the simple motions.

"Yeah, I got a few things friend, but first... how bad was it? Anyone leave here walking as if they'd dropped bricks at the sight? I can only imagine how bad of a wakeup that was given she's only gotten more assertive and aggressive in recent months."

"The Federal doctors are a credit to their trade. I think they all managed to keep themselves from compete terror. Then again, maybe that's just because the flying monsters and sea serpent already scared everything out of their bowels. I'm not sure how they would have tried handling you if I wasn't here to intervene, though," replied the Messenger.

Erosen sighed as he began to search through the small footlocker under the cot and retrieved his various clothes, pulling them on over the tunic and breeches he'd been loosely dressed in. They weren't tailored fits, but they did the job adequately and he'd need to be preparing to fight rather than be comfortable from the sounds of things. Satisfied with how he'd arranged his belongings, he listened to the Pioneer Knight's response as he began to don his equipment.

"Oh, and the others, they take the trip alright? First time on a ship for most of them, no? I can only imagine how fun that must have been to watch, especially for Terrestark's chosen sod, can never remember their name... oh well. As for my Patroness, she seemed to be pretty adamant about catching me off-guard this time, something seemed almost desperate in how she did it, she got sloppy with some of the enchantment in the dream and it was all I needed to break through. Wasn't easy though and if she'd taken a minute more to spin something better, I don't think we'd be having this conversation right now."

"I didn't hear too many complaints over the trip. We've been through a lot worse in our pasts that the floor always rocking beneath our feet..." the Messenger began amiably, trailing off as he thought more about Erosen admitting how close to the edge he had gone. Please don't make me kill you one day, Erosen. I'm tired of seeing decent people dragged down and twisted by the muck of Hell into an irreparable monstrosity. "In my prayers before I sleep tonight I shall thank the Loyal Host for your personal devil's carelessness. Please be careful, my friend. Not that you don't already know that, but...you know what I am trying to convey.

The heavy coat Erosen had been enjoying since they'd left port was dried and had been neatly hung up alongside many others, standing out among the rank and file uniform coats that had been left behind as it hung on the coatracks of the medical ward. He walked towards it, the soft footfalls of his boots sounding against the floorboards as he made his way wearily towards the edge of the room.

"If I had to guess though, we're looking at something based out of someone else's domain, 'Leilly' as she apparently goes by up here... she would have come in person if the Inferno was anything impressive. If we're going to march that army out of Hell and right up onto the surface, we're going to need to make sure she or whatever warlord that had it isn't going to compromise the mission. The Conqueror's forces are going to need to be as well rested as possible before we enact that phase of our master's plan. Take me to the others, I'll coordinate orientation efforts with them, get them somewhere high up where they can determine a plan of attack and then I'll see about taking a small splinter to find the Inferno. I've got enough juice now to practically taste it from here and shadow-walking will only get easier when I near the breach."

"That sounds like a sensible plan. I would recommend seeing what you can do about getting a rowboat or something of that nature," said the fiery paladin as he and the Darkling left the room and briskly made their way up to the deck of the Devil's Luck, "Given what Isaiah had said about Watchtower having their local HQ in the northwest end of this archipelago I would imagine you'll need some form of water transportation. Hopefully you can still find something suitable that hasn't been either destroyed by the enemy or requisitioned by our allies. Oh, and perhaps think up an idea of what you'll tell your companions if they ask where you're going off to."

The pair now stood in the open air. The activity on the Devil's Luck had died down by now with most of her occupants ashore or still confined to their cabins below. Only some actual sailors were still up top, and they were far too busy with cleaning and repairing the vessel to pay the two landlubbers any mind. The Messenger looked out onto the town twinkling in the night, and gave his ally a pat on the shoulder.

"Off to work, then," the Messenger concluded. As Erosen looked out upon the same scene he thought he caught a glimpse of someone he halfway remembered. For a moment his eyes fell on a particularly curvaceous, well-dressed, black-haired woman. He thought he saw her flash him a knowing smile, with her amber eyes gleaming ominously. When he next blinked she was gone; where she had been standing was a Federal musketeer who quickly went on his way, leaving an empty spot.

---

He'd kept himself hidden for the better part of the time they had for the day, deciding to sleep near one of the many of small braziers that volunteers and soldiers had managed to set up for warmth. The atmosphere of the village was quite relaxed in spite of the coming fight. Against the backdrop of the civil war which had ravaged the continent only a few years prior, some of these soldiers were likely veterans of that conflict the nerves that came before any fight having long since been steeled by blood and battle. He turned his own thoughts inward, towards his mind and body, or more towards his mind as his own body was quite broken. His arms stung as the curse continued to eat away at his skin, what little there was at least. The doctors had tried to bandage them, but had been unable to determine its origin, but then again he'd been in a fight with so many fell creatures, no doubt there were ailments inflicted in that fight that would have the most talented of their discipline scratching their heads for years. None had ever considered they had been dealing with a curse of magic many orders of magnitude stronger than a mere bacterial infection.

Sleep evaded him as he sat with the memory of Leistella and her cruel game haunting his thoughts. He was happy that the Messenger had been quick to arrive, but there was little that could have been done had he fully fallen. Perhaps that state of mind he'd been in, as he'd slowly drowned in a sea of anger within that nightmare, was all that lay in wait for him. It was a daunting and terrifying prospect to Erosen and it was not long if a man of the cloth stopped by. He was not very old, and his uniform identified him as perhaps chaplain or a part of the chaplains corps moreover in the Federal Army, his face betrayed the experiences of his life however and Erosen knew him to be a veteran of the conflicts which he'd eschewed.

"Ah, you're the poor soul that was struck by serpent and left with its madness. I heard of your affliction from one of our surgeons aboard the ship you were on, how fares the curse?"

Erosen shrugged, the man was without much knowledge perhaps of the more sinister workings that had been done to him in the years past, and the Messenger's own standing in for him had spared him any closer examination or second-look. He gave a grim smile back and shook his head slightly," the beast struck me hard sir, but I'll be in right fighting condition soon. Perhaps all I needed was a good word from that holy knight. I best get moving now though, never know when-"

There was shouting and sudden movement throughout the village and Erosen mentally prepared himself as the news reached him. The demons and their Watchtower affiliates had manifested a few miles up outside the walls of another settlement by the name of Mithsbow. Standing up, he looked towards the cleric of the Loyal Host and found the man to have already departed for his likely cohort of fighting men and escorts. He bid a soft prayer to the man and grabbed up his belongings, making best speed for the roads he knew they would depart along and waited until the Volunteer Company marched past, catching a fleeting glimpse of Tristan with Lisoette and smiled at their presence, but made no further attempt to communicate with them. He could only hope what he was to do would only lead him to his own goal and those two would be key if that was the case. The Messenger too, and his Pioneer Knights fell in trail behind the squadrons of marching soldiers, slowly beginning to pass up the Federal Troops and Erosen fell in among them.

Such faith and fervent devotion found among their ranks was something he could only wish he'd known when he had been faced by his temptations all those years ago, but even now he'd not take any of it back for the purpose he now served. He wanted desperately to finally be there when the Conqueror marched forth to usher in a new age, one where the injustice of years prior could be washed away. He'd begun to lose his taste for the tasks he'd been given until the older Garmiccian had arrived and rekindled him through his constant goading. He smiled grimly at the thought of the man in combat, wishing him well against the demons, in spite of his own better judgement. It would not do to wish such ill tidings against a fellow teammate in spite of their antagonistic behaviors, justice would be fairly served in due time and all he had to do was wait.

Then his thoughts slipped to Katya, wondering where she would be in the formation when push came to shove, she was not a warrior, but she held the spirit of one and he could still remember her standing upon the deck of the ship blasting fell-gulls from the air. He'd seen only a passing glimpse of her in the formation and had kept his distance seeing Alexei close at hand. If his mission were to be completed without fail, it would be his best chance at protecting her, yet another reason he wished the older Garmiccian soldier luck in his fight.

The march itself was not long, at least to his own perception of time with all of this in his mind and more as they grew closer. He knew the Pioneer Knights were powerful Elementals in their own respect, he'd worked with them before and earned their respect in turn. This distant crack of musketfire, coupled with the distant din of battle soon began to pique the interests of all in the marching elements and slowly the rank and file of battle began to manifest. Erosen was impressed with the discipline showed already by the Federal forces as they mustered their courage and training to mind. As they came over a bend in the landscape, the distant walls of Mithsbow began to take shape and with it came the reek of Dark Element and demonic magics and sorcery. Someone to his right in the crowds exclaimed and there was a brief stir as the enemy began to take shape in the night.

Metalworking had fortified their considerably larger-than-estimated number. What should have numbered a few hundred appeared to now be a few thousand and Erosen's conviction in the importance of his mission became concrete and hardened as steel. This was a fight he'd worried about and with justification for those fears now having come to light, he readied himself for the inevitable fight to come as the two sides began to collide against one another. There was a brief silence as the Volunteer Company had begun to ready themselves, but the flashing of magics and Eric's blade broke the momentary stillness as the demons moved in a number of roughly a thirty, quickly thinned to twenty in seconds. If they could keep this pace, the battle would be winnable, but it came down to how long the Federal Forces could keep the main force's attention.

He cast a look and recognized they'd already begun to become stuck in, turning quickly towards the Messenger, he gave the man the signal through a long and loud whistle before turning toward the two nearest Pioneer Knights.

"You come with me. I need escorts for this mission and your leader already volunteered you, and bring your pets."

The Knight he'd addressed stood next to a pair of earthen hounds, the pair of canines looking similarly disheartened as the tall and armorclad warrior of Terrestark's virtue. The helmeted man turned towards the rest of the Pioneer Knights as they continued to march past, looking to become stuck in the fighting and lifted his hands in a gesture of frustration and resignation to the demand. That was what it had been, he'd known it was coming but hadn't expected it so soon. He nodded and fell in behind the Darkling as they slunk to the edges of the formation and Erosen began to skirmish with the pair of demons which had moved to intercept.

As he delivered a swift stab through the chest of the first, the blade of the second began to arc down, but the sounds of earth moving as a pair of jaws emerged from beneath the demon took it by surprise and it tumbled over, falling into the shifting soil as a beast the size of a wolf emerged. Teeth gleamed from within a part in its rounded head and as it lunged forward to deliver a killing blow, the demon moved to block it. A second mudwolf emerged from the ground beside it and latched onto the arm, stopping the demons bid to save itself as the first tore into its neck. The death was quick, but definitely not painless or merciful. The two creatures looked over their backs, short and stumpy tails wagging the bodies they were attached to and casting off small clouds of dust as well. The Pioneer Knight slowly approached, the casual boredom attached to his body language as he approached making quite evident his lack of amusement with the situation.

"They told me you were a skilled fighter. That one had you Erosen-the-Slayer."

Erosen winced at the name, but he shook his head and withdrew the blade from the now dead demon's chest, flicking the blade and sending a thin spray of ichor across the ground.

"We can't all be up front fighters, there's a reason I have that name, don't make me teach you why. Have your pets keep the way behind us clear, I'll move towards the Inferno so I can take my measurements and we can leave. You can-"

"-Watch for reinforcements and attack targets of opportunity as I see fit. I understand how things usually work with you Darkling, it does not take me by surprise that I was chosen given the nature of our mission, but do try to be less demanding. My babies have enough of a facsimile of life that their endurance can be waned with overuse and I'd hate to see that happen."

The look of distaste grew on Erosen's face, but he said nothing more, there was no breath to the mudwolves but that did not steady his nerves around them any more. They were killing machines and he'd seen what they could do to lesser demons in larger numbers, that this knight chose to use them was of a measure akin to unsettling. They were about as feeling as golems, but there was even schools of thought on what that amounted to in practice, to Erosen, he didn't care so long as they kept their distance. Such was his thought as one of the large beasts attempted to nuzzle his hand.

"Don't- don't do that. You should well know my own take on them, so please try not to antagonize me for your own pleasure. They're... weird."

The armored man shrugged and gave a thumbs up before suddenly whirling around and dropping a heavy gauntlet atop the skull of a demon that had had the presence of mind to not make noise as it had approached. The mudwolves set upon the creature quickly and its death was fast as the other's. Together, the small group continued towards the edge of the fighting until finally Erosen spotted a breach in their number they could push past and through.

"Here! Quickly, we haven't much time! Give the signal we're through and then head on past the breach! I'll meet you there..."

With that, Erosen seemed to fall forward as if he'd tripped upon something before suddenly being swallowed up by the ground and disappearing, the long shadows of the fighting having lent him the gap he'd needed to shadow-step past. Somewhere a short distance past the lines of demons, he had appeared and dropped into a low crouch to reduce his silhouette and avoid detection as the Earth Elemental Knight began to wade into a group of demons that had additionally broken off from the fighting and sought to engage the warrior in battle. Martial prowess, matched only by the dexterity and smoothness of his movements made short work of the beings and without further ado, he reached into his pocket and withdrew a small device. Casting it with a powerful throw, there was a brief pause before an arc of colored green and blue sparks flickered to life, landing among another small group of demons before flickering out. With that, the Elemental turned and began the journey to the far side of the enemy line.

[Constaniana]

"I'm not gonna lie, Belle. I kind of missed this."

The entire walk to the battlefield, Eric had been a few things he normally wasn't. Quiet, focused, not hitting on any attractive person in arms reach. Stopping to encourage the more afraid looking volunteer soldiers, offering proper tips on sword wielding to the younger volunteers, just very un-Eric like.

"I must say, you are acting odd. We've known each other for almost 20 years and I've never seen that look in your eyes."

The look in his eyes was best described as 'Steely'. Dead focused on the task at hand.

"Well, this isn't one of our usual scuffles. No, this is a proper battle. Brave men and women lined up to fend off a menace charging at their gates. And this time, I'm not going to be waiting behind the wall for them to come. No made up Godly magic is gonna stop these fools."

A foursome of monsters seemingly very excited for the rumble were already approaching. Right for him.

"Time to show these tykes how I survived all that soldiering."

With a small craning of his neck to pop a crick out, he suddenly moved like water. A less experienced soldier probably couldn't even track his moves. The first monster found his head lopped off as he raised his blade for an overhead strike. The one behind him swung from the side, Eric deftly moving Belle like she was an extension of his own arm as he sliced the beast's own arms off in one fluid strike. Three and four wisely decided to attack together.

"Pathetic."

He dropped down as they both swung at him, cutting them both off at the knees. He rose back up, wicking the blood off of Belle and beckoning for his next challengers.

"Anyone else want a go at me?"

Those demons closest to Eric were now ones wielding pikes. They seemed conflicted about treating him with caution. On the one hand, the old man had quickly proven himself quite dangerous to their kind, so changing their tactics as best as their small brains would allow was what their self-preservation instincts were saying. On the other hand, the presence of an Angelle, and one that had been blessed by the hand of Pryastar himself a month ago at that, even in the guise of a sword, sent them into a rage deeper than the rage they normally went through life in. One demon lost its battle against its passions, and charged at Eric, pike pointing slightly up to aim at his head. Four more demons took a few steps forward, their pikes lowered as well, but still out of reach of the old wanderer.

With its rash opening move the lone demon found Eric easily swatting aside the blade of its polearm with Belle Lame. With one foot Eric kicked some snow at the demon's amber eyes, then made a swing towards its neck, one of the few spots on its body not covered by chain mail. Perhaps feeling the searing energy of a Heavenborn approaching it, the demon managed to swing its pike back towards itself to block. Belle Lame severed the pike's blade from its shaft, rather than the demon's head from its shoulders. Now armed with a long, skinny club, the demon roared and charged again, making several heavy swings that Eric had to actually try to dodge. After the fourth swing its footing faltered for a moment, and the demon's opponent swiftly exploited the opportunity by slashing at the hands of the Hellspawn. While Belle did not cut the hands clean off, the resulting gash left the victim unable to grasp a weapon.

The other pike-demons inched closer. Two more had joined their formation while the wandering sage was distracted, bringing their number to six. Their wounded comrade charged a third time. Behind Eric, the three demons thrown by Hakkon came crashing down. They staggered to their feet, unarmed, but not unharmed. One fell to its knees a moment later, having broken too many bones in its legs. The two others seemed to have fared better. One had its right arm hanging limp, and the other had chipped horns and some missing fangs, but they still had enough energy left to also rush at Eric. However, while their legs might have still been operational, they were out of breath, and their speed was not as great as the Hellspawn charging at Eric from the front.

Not far from Tristan and company, the hide-clad man who had spoken with Alexei earlier that day marched at the front of the 1st Adventurer Company. He had remained completely silent throughout, seemingly immersed in his own thoughts as the volunteers trekked from Towraigth to Mithsbow. As a man of the North himself, he was accustomed to the bitter cold that winter brought, and though the air he was used to was far dryer than this, he had little reason to complain. At the same time, as one who had been alone at the time of volunteering to go on the expedition, he did not have any previous acquaintances to converse with to pass the time. On top of that, the friendly, carefree disposition he had displayed earlier in the day seemed to have dissipated, leaving a stoic determination in its place that did not waver one bit when the demon horde was finally spotted. The sight surprised him, naturally, as these were the first demons he had ever seen, but he was not frightened. Compared to the beast he fought when he was but a boy, they were not as intimidating.

The largest issue, of course, was their apparent numbers, which dwarfed the ranks of the Duke, the Baron and the Colonel together. That only made it a more interesting challenge, though. One that he knew would be remembered as a part of the mountain prince's story one day.

While Eric nimbly began weaving his way through the demon horde and Tristan called for unity, Hakkon instead muttered a small prayer to the Loyal Host in an old dialect of High Gallish that had been preserved by the Valtivar of Balder's Peak and the other mountain clans of Albrion.

"Father of Mountains, I leave my life in your hands." He concluded in a solemn voice.

Then, suddenly, he stomped on the ground hard. A flat slab of stone came loose from the road under his feet, which had been buried by the snow, and he caught it as it fell back, using his Elemental powers to fashion a large shield from it. The mountain man then took a deep breath and released an animalistic scream of anger before charging towards his enemy. Those demons unfortunate enough to be caught in his path were sent flying back or shoved aside. As his momentum depleted, he instead planted his feet on the ground and used his immense strength to hurl aside no less than three unfortunate Hellspawn that happened to be in front of him. Though they were unlikely to die, they had lost their weapons and he was certain they would at least be disoriented by the rough landing. Perhaps broken bones were a possibility, but Hakkon didn't know how resilient these things were.

Of course, having rushed headfirst into the group of three dozen demons that had gone after them, he now had several demons circling him. One of them lunged at him, bringing his jagged blade down in an overhead slash, but the Earth Elemental simply put up his right arm in a defensive position, the demon's weapon failing to cleave through the smooth grey stone. Next, he bashed the creature's brains in with his shield.

As the fiend collapsed, Hakkon roared triumphantly before throwing himself at the nearest foe.

In contrast to Eric's opponents, the fact that Hakkon had such acrobatic fury made it very difficult to keep him from getting past the effective range of pikes. Thus, the demons opposing him made use of either the crude swords they had been issued or the finely-honed claws and horns they had been born with. The latest demon to get charged at by Hakkon thrust its sword at his chest, but was easily blocked by the shield, and the sword's point cracked when it stuck it head-on. It let out a roar to match Hakkon's, spittle flying from its maw. Slashing away at the shield in anger only made the weapon more damaged, but weapon maintenance was not something that particular breed of demon was expected to worry about anyway. When the sword was quickly worn down to being uselessly dull and chipped it tossed it aside. The demon made one slash with its claws. Hallbjorn moved an inch to the side to dodge, punched its face hard enough to dislocate its jaw, and knocked it back with an imperious kick.

Stone seemed to cover every part of this particular prey, so the predators from the underworld abandoned any semblance of finesse. Immersing themselves in rage, they hacked, slashed, and scratched from every side, desperate to find some weak spot and then tear it apart. The ease with which the son of Sigvard Hallbrand kept tossing them aside only enraged them more, as if he was mocking them. They felt no fear, but they felt pride, and felt it being scorned by something they were instinctively driven to kill. How would an cat feel about a mouse laughing it? Thus they continued their mindless assault.

Tristan watched these events transpire with dismay. Demons surrounding a member of their group was exactly what he had hoped to avert with his suggestion, but it seemed some of the Elementals on board were too hot-blooded to listen to reason at a moment like this.

"Or that. That works too." He said with a sigh, before turning to Lisoette and kissing her cheek. "See you on the other side, my love." He told his wife.

Then, he too ran forward, following in the footsteps of his two comrades in arms. Rather than wait to get in melee range, however, Tristan reared back his left arm and focused his magic on the tip of Fenrirtusk before hurling the holy glaive forward. The weapon embedded itself on the ground by the demonic frontline and released the element contained within, leaving several of the fiends frozen solid. The Ice Elemental did not stop until he reached his weapon and pulled it free from the ground, just in time to block an incoming blow with its shaft, stopping the blade of a crude pike in its tracks.

The demon in question actually recoiled as Tristan raised up Fenrirtusk. Perhaps it could smell the traces of Heaven that lingered upon it, or simply feel the raw power of Froenstia suffusing the entirety of the artefact that she had personally given to her champion. Flustered as it was, Tristan would dispatch it very quickly. More demons foolishly rushed in to take its place. They swiftly found themselves smitten by more Ice. Thunder cracked as Lisoette sent a bolt of Lightning at one of the clusters charging towards her husband.

Mrs. Frost had followed Mr. Frost's path towards the Hellspawn, though she did not move as close to them as he had. Her opening move was peppering the demon army with simple quick spells. With so many targets to choose from in this chaotic open battlefield she didn't need to bother with Ultraviolet Seeker Harpoon. Using Static Hammer seemed like overkill to her, and she had a feeling it would be wise to save her energy for later in the battle. But there were more demons than it was possible for a lone Daemonness to strike down.

Some started to rush towards her. Lisoette's armoured hands swiped horizontally to send forth a pulse of lightning, which connected with the outstretched swords of four of them. From there leapt onto their bodies, and those demons fell. Others behind them continued unfazed. With her left hand Lisoette drew her machete to parry a thrust by the closest demon, then with her right hand she drove her leiomano into its neck. A Hellish pike sprang towards her while she tried to dislodge the weapon. Gracefully Mrs. Frost bent out of its way, letting the polearm also bury itself in black chain mail and red flesh. Her machete drove up in and out of the right armpit of her second attacker in a blur. With a final tug Lisoette pulled her leiomano free, and slashed it across her target's face.

Yet another demon attacked with a pike. The Daemonness hopped to her left, chopped the blade off with her machete, and dealt her assailant a flying kick to the head, showing off the acrobatic expertise she had developed in her dojo. Spawn-Maestros had bred many different features into their own particular breeds of demons, but one thing they had in all but a few cases been unable to do was make a creature's eyes not be so squishy, and so vulnerable. Whoever was responsible for this demon army's creation had likewise failed, permitting Mrs. Frost to drive her steel-shod foot into the demon's amber eye. The monster staggered back, and a passing hussar's sabre lopped its horned head clean off. An opportunistic demon tried impaling the horse from behind, but Lisoette zapped him. And then one demon was leaping at a young recruit from St. Veowulf who had fallen in the snow, so Lisoette had to spring into action to save the hapless youth. There were plenty in their ranks like him, young and inexperienced. Someone had to look out for them, protect them from these brutes until they got the hang of fighting themselves.

Meanwhile, the demons attacking Mr. Frost had fallen back. They gave a series of gargled barks, and after several moments it was answered by a low, long, phlegmy baying. Their ranks parted, and another demon came barrelling out in a hunched-over run, like a bear in a sprint. It stopped after a few paces and stood up straight. That might have been when Tristan would first notice something different about this particular demon.

The common demons were all about the height of an ordinary man. This one stood more around the stature of an Elemental, close to seven feet tall. While it was wearing black armour like the rest of the Hellspawn army, it was clad in plate armour of decent craftsmanship, better than what some of the human volunteers had come in. Its sword was certainly in better condition than those of the demons around it, with a longer blade and no signs of rust or cracks. Something the colour of ivory gleamed in the night, and Tristan could see that the demon held a shield with a large skull from some beast down below as the centre. Fitting a helmet on it would have been a very frustrating task. Six crooked, gnarled horns, with years of pockmarks and chips all along their curling length from many battles rose up and out from its head. Scars likewise dotted its face.

Equipment alone did not make it different from its comrades. There was more cunning intelligence in its eyes. As it raised its sword and shield it dropped into a proper stance, like Eric might. Common demons spent a few weeks learning facing movements, how to hold a sword or a pike, and how to stab with them. This one had spent months training with a master of the sword. Beastly thought it still was, it was a most valuable hound. It locked eyes with a pair of its inferiors, both wielding pikes, and shouted something unintelligible. They went berserk, and rushed at Tristan from his right side. A second later the demon sergeant sprang into the fray, charging Tristan from his front while he was distracted.

Elsewhere on the battlefield, the Messenger was in the thick of the Hellspawn as well. He had picked up two swords from his foes and was swinging them around in a blazing twister, exceeding the ferocity of the creatures that had originally held them. They were not crafted with magic use in mind, though. While channelling his Fire through the swords made them deal a lot more damage, it pushed them to their breaking point. Blocking the strike of one particular demon made one of the Messenger's swords shatter. He brought his second sword in for the kill before the enemy could react, lopping the demon's head off. He hurled the second, worn-out sword at the closest pike-demon and stole its weapon. The Messenger set the shaft on fire, crafting his own burning quarterstaff.

From the corner of his eye the Messenger saw a flash of green and blue. Though Erosen would be too far away to see it, the paladin solemnly nodded in reply, and wished him good luck under his breath. He lashed out at a demon, sweeping it off its feet and thrusting the blade of his pike through its neck once it was prone. Well, the colonel said the army would need some demon torches to better aim at the rest of them. The musketmen should be in position in a few minutes, so there's not too much time to set them up. The Messenger began to hum, red light condensing all over him, but not reacting with the weapon in his hand, which he continued swinging at any Hellspawn within reach.

[Ameriganastan]

Those demons closest to Eric were now ones wielding pikes. They seemed conflicted about treating him with caution. On the one hand, the old man had quickly proven himself quite dangerous to their kind, so changing their tactics as best as their small brains would allow was what their self-preservation instincts were saying. On the other hand, the presence of an Angelle, and one that had been blessed by the hand of Pryastar himself=== a month ago at that, even in the guise of a sword, sent them into a rage deeper than the rage they normally went through life in. One demon lost its battle against its passions, and charged at Eric, pike pointing slightly up to aim at his head. Four more demons took a few steps forward, their pikes lowered as well, but still out of reach of the old wanderer.

With its rash opening move the lone demon found Eric easily swatting aside the blade of its polearm with Belle Lame. With one foot Eric kicked some snow at the demon's amber eyes, then made a swing towards its neck, one of the few spots on its body not covered by chain mail. Perhaps feeling the searing energy of a Heavenborn approaching it, the demon managed to swing its pike back towards itself to block. Belle Lame severed the pike's blade from its shaft, rather than the demon's head from its shoulders. Now armed with a long, skinny club, the demon roared and charged again, making several heavy swings that Eric had to actually try to dodge. After the fourth swing its footing faltered for a moment, and the demon's opponent swiftly exploited the opportunity by slashing at the hands of the Hellspawn. While Belle did not cut the hands clean off, the resulting gash left the victim unable to grasp a weapon.

The other pike-demons inched closer. Two more had joined their formation while the wandering sage was distracted, bringing their number to six. Their wounded comrade charged a third time. Behind Eric, the three demons thrown by Hakkon came crashing down. They staggered to their feet, unarmed, but not unharmed. One fell to its knees a moment later, having broken too many bones in its legs. The two others seemed to have fared better. One had its right arm hanging limp, and the other had chipped horns and some missing fangs, but they still had enough energy left to also rush at Eric. However, while their legs might have still been operational, they were out of breath, and their speed was not as great as the Hellspawn charging at Eric from the front.

"What do you say, Belle? Gimme a hand here?"

"With pleasure. I'll take the back, you get the front?"

"Just like when those bandits cornered us outside Trodwood."

"Only you're not in drag this time."

"Hey, day isn't over yet."

The demons charging from the back were stopped dead when Belle appeared before them, grabbing the one closest by the throat and literally ripping his head off. She tossed it aside and unfurled her wings.

"It's a shame there are so many allies around. Because I'd love to go full power like with that sea monster. But I'd rather not incinerate our friends so I guess I have to hold back just a tad. Anyway..."

Before the other two could react, she was on them in a flash. Plunging her hand into the chest of one demon and pulling its heart out. The remaining one mustered what counted for bravery with his kind and tried running past her for Eric.

""I don't think so."

She grabbed him by the nape of the neck before he could get far.

"Be burned away, demon scum."

And just like that, the demon was instantly engulfed in Angellic fire. Burning his form to ashes in mere moments.

"I do hope you're watching up there, my love. I'm putting on quite a show if I do say so myself."

Back at the front, Eric beckoned his opponents to come at him.

"Come on, spanky. Just a little closer..."

When he could see the whites of the demon's eyes, he sprung his little surprise. A rock he'd felt under his foot. He kicked it up from the ground, caught it and buried it full force right in his opponent's eye.

"Now give me that!"

Using the momentary distraction, he wrenched the demon's pike from its claw and kicked it back.

"Okay, a pike. Only trained with this thing for a month when I was a recruit before I switched to the longsword. But I killed enough pikemen during my soldier days to get the gist of it...I hope."

He spun it around deftly, getting a feel for it at the now one eyed demon lunged at him in fury.

"Okay, small surface area for damage. Can't really lop off limbs..."

Using the demon's now lacking depth perception, he easily sidestepped its charge and sliced one of its leg tendons as it stumbled by.

"Man, this just doesn't feel right. So dinky. But whatever."

He sliced the incapacitated demon's throat, just in time for his two friends to make their arrival.

"...Nope, not feeling confident. Belle!"

His literal guardian angel flashed in front of him, taking the pike and ramming it through the top of one of the heads of his opponents. While the other one she quite literally bitchsmacked to death, smacking him so hard his head spun 180 degrees.

"It's times like this I wonder, why do I stay as your sword still? I could win any fight you've ever gotten into easily."

"Yeah, but that's not as fun. No thrill. Oh, speaking of thrill. I think this is a perfect time for the Holy Terror routine. We've got a literal Angelle here and frankly I'm not using your talents to their extent. Give these demonic flotsam a good scare."

She nodded and cracked her knuckles, taking to the air and inhaling sharply.

"Scare, but don't bathe the battlefield in flame and kill them and your allies. Simple."

And like that, the night was lit up by Angellic light, her voice echoing across the battlefield.

"DEMONIC SCUM! YOU HAVE ROUSED THE ANGER OF ONE OF PYRASTAR'S CHOSEN DAUGHTERS! FLEE! FLEE BACK TO THE PIT YOU CRAWLED FROM LEST YE FEEL THE FULL FURY OF MY HOLY FIRE! "

"That should scare off a good chunk of them. Man, I have a cool best friend."

[Zarkenis Ultima]

---

The claws and the swords of the demonic host left thin, superficial marks on Hakkon's towering shield and his stone-forged arm, but failed to cause any more harm. Yet, under such a relentless assault, the Earth Elemental, though unharmed, found it difficult to retaliate. It was quite the conundrum - his defense was adequate, but he had no intention of being held up here forever, least of all against such small fry. Making a decision, he turned the large slab of stone that was his shield into a no less massive gauntlet, with short spikes protruding from its side. The infernal creatures attacking him seemed far from surprised, instead displaying excitement at the prospect of finally causing harm to such a resilient foe. They lashed out once more with their swords and their claws, but Hakkon's gauntlet absorbed most of these attacks, only a few making it past and leaving thin lines on his flesh that soon drenched in red. Ignoring these wounds, the mountain prince used his free hand to deliver a devastating stone-clad right hook to the skull of an unfortunate demon. The sickening sound of bone cracking open echoed through the air as the creature fell to the ground, its skull sundered by such a powerful blow.

Taking a moment to admire his handiwork, Hakkon scoffed at the demonic host. "You fancy yourselves warriors, but I've yet to find a warrior among you!" He shouted as he suddenly yanked his gauntlet away, the demons' swords caught amidst the spikes and swiftly torn from their grips, leaving them disarmed. They did not relent, preparing their claws to tear their hated foe apart, but he did not intend to let up, either. As the first of the lot approached, he reared back his gauntlet-clad arm and then sent it barreling forward into the fiend's gut, chain mail doing little to mitigate the impact as he immediately felt something give way under his fist - a few ribs, no doubt. Another foe approached him from the side, but a swift backhand was enough to send it tumbling back in a daze. Hakkon moved in to finish it off, slashing at its exposed throat with the spikes from his gauntlet, but as he finished the motion and the demon's blood drenched the ground in black, one of its compatriots, leaped at his exposed back, etching several new scars on his skin to join the old.

"Wretched beast!" The warrior growled as he reached behind his back and grabbed the demon by the back of its neck, using it as a bludgeon to smash another incoming foe into the tainted snow. The ground beneath them was part of the road leading from Towraigth to Mithsbow, something that Hakkon used to his advantage, stomping on the ground hard and watching as a stone spike rose from beneath to impale both demons. Walking over, he snapped the tip off and casually threw it at another approaching fiend, before walking back to the first one, who still clutched its stomach, hissing and growling as it sputtered black blood on the ground, the Earth's Elemental fist clearly having done a number on its organs. Grabbing it by the neck with his right hand, he lifted the creature off the ground, slowly raising it until they were finally looking eye to eye.

"Is that all you've got?!" He screamed at it and the other demons, his grip tightening around his foe's neck.

Suddenly, his ears caught something. A low, animalistic sound, more threatening than the barking noises made by most of the demons on the field. Looking all around to determine the origin of that sound, the blond man quickly spotted the large figure that was now advancing towards a fellow Elemental, preparing for a titanic battle. Hakkon could not avoid feeling a tinge of jealousy at the sight. Was he not strong enough to warrant the arrival of a demonic officer? Was he not deemed enough of a threat, enough of a challenge to earn the right to a duel against one of those monsters?

Well, that just won't do. He told himself, resolving to participate regardless and beginning to make his way through the demon horde.

Elsewhere, Tristan found himself in a standoff against the forces of Hell. He had managed to fight off every opponent that had arrived to challenge him thus far, but now it seemed that the demons were reorganizing themselves, something concerning in itself. He was fairly isolated from his friends here, his only advantage was the thoughtless approach of the demons, who didn't seem to employ any sort of tactics. If they started doing that now... well, he didn't like his chances. Still, now was not the time for fear or cowardice, so rather than entertain thoughts of his own defeat before it happened, he observed his foes carefully. They still did not approach, instead communicating with each other. However, it wasn't long before something happened.

Oh... that's a big guy. Tristan thought as he watched the demon sergeant come barreling from behind its brethren. It stood over a foot taller than him, clad in black plates and wielding a wicked looking sword and shield combo. Its stance betrayed little of the animalistic fury its fellow demons fought with - the Ice Elemental had no doubt in his mind that this demon hated him and his kind just as much as the rest, but its was a cold hatred, and that made it much more dangerous. Still, as much of a threat as it was, the Champion of Ice knew that he could not simply ignore the other demons around him, a fact that was made painfully obvious as the sergeant ordered two demonic pikemen to charge him from the side. So that's how it's going to be.

Reacting quickly, he sidestepped the first pike while deflecting the second with Fenrirtusk's shaft, using this opening to reorient the holy glaive and then plunge the blade into the demon's face. As he moved to pull it back out, however, he noticed the demonic sergeant rushing towards him from the front, raising its blade for a powerful overhead strike. Almost too late, Tristan raised Fenrirtusk to block the blow with his shaft, his arms nearly buckling from the sheer force of the blow. He was clearly outmatched against the fiend's monstrous strength, and both of them knew it. To make matters worse, the demon pikeman that had missed earlier was preparing to attack again. Breathing steadily, Tristan focused on his element and created a small pillar of ice in front of him. It rose from the ground and slammed into his foe's wrist, taking the pressure off the Ice Elemental for just an instant.

There!

Taking advantage of that one moment of respite, Tristan quickly distanced himself from the demon sergeant and dodged the pikeman's next attack, swinging Fenrirtusk wide and slashing at its exposed legs to disable it. Still alive, the demon fell to the ground, seemingly no longer a threat. With that taken care of, the Champion of Ice could once more focus on the immediate threat, turning to look at the demon sergeant - and immediately jumped to avoid being cut in half by a horizontal slash. The towering creature followed up by a quick stab, and then another one, and a third, forcing Tristan to constantly dodge instead of mounting a counterattack. Another overhead slash followed, and Tristan rolled out of the way before attempting to stab at a chink in the demon's armor, but it was quick to react and blocked the blow with its shield. The next moment, it used that very same shield to swat Tristan away, sending him rolling across the snow and causing him to momentarily lose his grip on Fenrirtusk.

This isn't going so well... The young man thought as he tried to get back to his feet. His body ached from the shield bash, and his arms in particular felt sore after blocking that first sword strike, but now wasn't the time to give up. As he got up, however, he heard the barking voices of the demons very close to him, and looking up from the snow revealed that he had come to land near three of them, wielding swords instead of pikes. As soon as he got up, he found himself dropping to the floor again to avoid being decapitated. Fortunately for him, it seemed Fenrirtusk hadn't gone far - he'd seen it lying on the snow nearby. Rolling out of the way of a descending stab, he kicked up the holy glaive and then jumped to his feet, catching it just in time to send it straight into the exposed neck of a demo. He then swung the divine weapon at the other two, just out of reach. The snow around their feet solidified into ice and began creeping up their legs, solidifying into ice. Rooted to the ground, the two were unable to stop the Ice Elemental from finishing them off.

Behind him, the crunch of the snow underneath the demon sergeant's feet could be heard, and he turned around to face the beast once more. It was clearly a skilled combatant and a cunning leader. It was, perhaps, too powerful for him to defeat on his own. Is it time to use that spell again?

Before he could make a decision, however, a new voice was heard.

"Fiend! Prepare to face the wrath of a true Albrian!" Hakkon shouted as he charged at the demonic sergeant, jumping over its horizontal slash and slamming his gauntlet into the fiend's ivory shield with enough force to make it take a step back. A flurry of punches kept it on the backpedal before the mountain prince backed away, out of the reach of its sword. The demon howled in rage at this newcomer, swinging its sword several times in quick succession and leaving a pair of deep notches on his stone arm. Hakkon cursed, but nonetheless continued to defend himself and wait for another opportunity to retaliate - he was clearly having an easier time on account of his immense strength, but the demonic sergeant was still a formidable foe.

If I can find an opening... I can finish this.

Approaching carefully with Fenrirtusk in his grip, Tristan observed the battle intently, making sure that he was in a good spot to intervene if Hakkon was overwhelmed, while also looking at the fiend's armor with a keen eye in order to find a weak spot. There seemed to be one on its side, a space between two plates where a blade could easily slide in, if coming from the right direction. As the Northemen began retaliating against the sergeant, Tristan moved faster and faster, until he was close enough to thrust the blade of his holy glaive into the chink in its armor. Sure enough, the creature howled in pain and black blood began running down Fenrirtusk's shaft. Normally, such a wound wouldn't have sufficed to take down a foe as formidable - Tristan doubted he had hit any organs - but as the seconds ticked away, the demon sergeant's movements rapidly became lethargic. Its infernal red skin became cold and pale, its blood stopped flowing out of its wound, its eyes turned glassy and hollow. Froenstia's power had taken its life.

Pulling his glaive out, Tristan watched as the lumbering corpse fell into the snow. As he looked up, his eyes met Hakkon's, and far from annoyed or disappointed, the mountain warrior seemed pleased with this turn of events, giving the Ice Elemental a thumbs up.

"Interesting way to execute a demon!" He called out. "But don't let your guard down. The battle isn't over yet."

In response, Tristan simply brandished Fenrirtusk as he began walking towards what remained of the demon forces currently attacking them.

"Of course."

[Constaniana]

While the 1st and 2nd Adventurer Companies were by no means conventional military units, they were doing splendidly in their debut battle. The many Elementals in the vanguard were smiting Hellspawn left and right. Even the warriors who only had a sword or pistol and their courage were giving a good account of themselves, no doubt inspired by the thrilling idea of fighting alongside the servants of the gods against the forces of evil like in the stories they had all been told countless times, when going to bed as children, or sitting in church on Sundays. The spectacle of Belle Lame's Holy Terror only reinforced that feeling among the Gaiacan host. The Hellspawn, on the other hand, began scurrying back, leaving only the most enraged still attacking the party members and those alongside them in the front.

Lisoette had found herself near Eric as she fought her way through the throng of demons. She winced from the light as Belle took to the night sky, but not as much as the Hellspawn she was fighting against. Her tolerance for Light seemed to have grown since she could still see decently. True, Belle didn't radiate quite as much holy power as when she and Tristan had seen Froenstia, or whoever had brought judgement from on high upon the Watchtower base under the College of Bracksbure, but the Angelle was nothing to sneeze at. The encounter with Pryastar outside Carogne seemed to have supercharged her compared to her aura when she was just in sword form on their first adventure, or even at that initial reunion in the square in that same city. It was strange to think how the vast majority of people in Gaiaca went their whole lives without ever seeing one of the gods, and yet it felt as though half of her current associates had had an encounter with one of the Loyal Host somehow.

"Yeah, she's incredible, Eric," Lisoette said to the old soldier, catching her breath as the demons around them retreated. Some horsemen pursued them, felling the stragglers with their spears and sabres, but the Daemonness was content to stand there and observe her surroundings, at least for a few moments, "I think I would like it if I could do that kinda thing too. I wonder what it would be like if the two of us somehow swapped places, if Tristan had found me trapped in a sword like her and the two of you met in that Inferno...being an Angelle must be nice. She doesn't have to hide her wings."

---

"Sheesh, I need to have her teach me how to do that some day. She's making me look second-rate," the Messenger chuckled to himself in response to Belle's magic, killing the last demon close to him as he did so. The charred remnant of his spear was left buried in the foul creature. He had charged up a considerable amount of Fire magic by now, and took aim at the teeming mass of withdrawing enemies. The paladin brought his hands together as if he were holding a ball. The energy all over his body began flowing into the space between his hands, congealing into a scarlet marble at first, which continued to grow layer by layer.

"Lord Pryastar, immaculate font of flame, seated in Heaven over all! Favour a humble servant of thine in realms below thy glory, and answer his prayer in holy might and power! The enemies I doth rejoice to face in thy righteous service are many, and strong in the traitor-god's ways, but my faith is unshaken," The Fire magic had grown to the size of a pumpkin, but showed no signs of slowing down, "Though I am but one against eight, eighty, or eight hundred, one Elemental is all that is required to conquer any evil if his will and his patron's are one. Let my endless gratitude and renewed pledge of loyalty be a worthy offering in exchange for thy intercession in battle." Now the Messenger raised the great red orb over his head.

"Show thy hand upon this field of battle, and bring truth and righteousness crashing down! EIGHT-FOLD RED RIGHTEOUS METEOR SHOWER!"

The fireball flew straight up in the air about 20 yards, swelled one last time, and divided into eight spheres. The spell then began flying down towards the enemy army, the different fireballs spreading apart as they went like a shotgun blast. Though his voice had certainly not carried across the whole battlefield like Belle Lame's had, it wasn't hard to see the results of his handiwork. Eight explosions spread through the enemy ranks, two almost reaching their middle.

Silhouetted by the glowing red light from Pryastar's warriors one could now see long wooden sea monsters offshore, with spines rising high and white wings fluttering in the sea breeze; Federal warships, aiming their broadside at the enemy on land. Several seconds elapsed in tense silence. Out at sea an order was given that was too distant to be heard by the members of the party, before the Galllian navy roared at the Hellish army, and hurled a hundred cannonballs ashore. The bombardment continued in a more fragmented fashion as each ship began to fire at will. Under such conditions the order came for the Adventurer Companies to withdraw, lest they be struck by friendly fire.

The volunteers crossed paths with their professional counterparts. Individuals and small groups of tired and frenzied adventurers flowed like river rapids around the composed, stalwart rocks of 1st Battalion-A Company and 3rd Battalion-B Company, who were accompanied by the pikemen of Towraigth into an imposing pike square. Upon coming close enough to the enemy host Galllian officers ordered a halt, and the pikes instinctively lowered into a protective position.

"PRIME AND LOAD!" The Southemen musketmen put gunpowder and bullet in their firearms as efficiently as the mighty factories of their homeland.

It was here one could see an application of what was perhaps the chiefest of Galllian martial virtues. Some peoples in Gaiaca relied on sheer bravery and fighting spirit most of all to win their battles, foremost the Garmiccians and Calainites. The Yelhenneins or the Sahranjjites favoured quality over quantity with highly skilled elite warriors like the Queen's Chevaliers or the Eternal Dragon Guards. Lands like Beiriuk and Tyrnâth birthed guerrillas most skilled in surprise attacks, cunningly using the terrain and nature around them for bewildering enemies. Of course, one could find any of these qualities in warriors from any army in Gaiaca, but the various countries seemed to have their specialities.

"MAKE READY!" They brought their muskets up against their shoulders and aimed at the demons.

The Galllian soldier's greatest strength was his discipline, from Adrathur's day to the Federation and the Commonwealth. It was an iron will forged from fighting the ferocious beasts of the continent since time immemorial, by the harsh winters of the north where the empire began. When the gods gave unto Galllia her first emperor that discipline made her loyal and devoted, willing to follow Adrathur and his heirs across the seas to fight all manner of foes, and then fight the demons to a standstill when they tried to seize the world they had conquered. Where other civilisations would have tired, stumbled and been devoured in an apocalyptic war against Hell the Galllian legions held steadfast for centuries. While the Federal Army might not have been exactly as fearless and heroic as the tales told of the Scarlet Legions, they still possessed a fearsome portion of that discipline and tenacity. Colonel Firman had seen to it that his regiment measured up to that standard.

"FIRE!"

Dozens of demons dropped dead from the initial volley. No sooner had this happened that the front rank of Federal musketmen countermarched to the rear of their formation, and their brothers-in-arms behind them took their turn at monster hunting. With the sea breeze steadily blowing the smoke from their firing was carried inland. This permitted them to go on shooting at high accuracy, or at least as high as a musket would permit. Longbow traditionalists still insisted their weapon was far more accurate, and every so often some officer somewhere would write a treatise proposing the reintroduction of longbowmen somewhere in the army, whether in front-line formations, or skirmishers, or something else. The extensive use of crossbows by Watchtower, including reports of them having developed a repeating crossbow, had also recently stoked the flames of that debate. Nevertheless, those military thinkers were in faraway headquarters and academies, or wherever they had settled in after retiring; certainly not out in the cold and the dark clashing with Man's oldest foe.

---

"Jolly good, jolly good indeed. I should think this teapot is just about done brewing, old chap," Lt. Colonel Sir Basil Frederick Hennessy muttered, peering through his binoculars from atop his horse. With how softly the commander of the 1st Battalion had spoken and the lack of anybody else particularly close by the old chap in question was probably himself. His adjutant, Captain Ross Willis Steadyhand, heard the comment, but knew by now to leave the knight alone when he was in his thoughts like this. However, he snapped to attention at the sound of a different rider approaching.

"Good evening, my lord!" said Captain Steadyhand as Baron Hlojtur rode up to them with his retinue. The lieutenant colonel pulled his face away from his binoculars, allowing one to see more of it than a wrinkled forehead with a horizontal scar along its entirety and bushy eyebrows. The nobleman acknowledged the junior officer with a quick nod before addressing the commander.

"When are you bringing the Duke's knights from the rear?" He asked bluntly, "You can see how the Hellspawn are breaking. We've been grinding them down for weeks. At last we have a chance to hunt the bastards down and put an end to this! We should continue our advance and trample them, rather than let them fall back to outside the walls of Mithsbow and finish what they've started there."

"We can wait a bit longer, Your Lordship," Sir Hennessy replied, "Our brigade only has so many troops, and only a hundred of those knights, against a foe whose numbers haven't been properly estimated yet, at least as far as I am aware. Not to mention that reinforcements take a week to get to your islands, and I don't know for sure when the second wave is setting sail from St. Veowulf. Every demon that gets shot in the back by one of our muskets or crushed by a naval cannonball is one less demon that has a chance of making one of our men a casualty we'll be bloody hard-pressed to replace."

A horrid metallic screech pulled his attention back to the battlefield. Even without binoculars one could see a bloom of angry burgundy energy directed towards the Galllian forces and the explosion that followed in its wake. Another screech rang out, although there wasn't a flashy burst of colour with it. Lt. Colonel Hennessy brought his binoculars back up to determine what was happening. He grimaced as his enhanced gaze spotted the tightly-packed infantrymen had been knocked down, though at least they were staggering back up to their feet. How long they would be able to keep standing was uncertain. Turning his gaze more to the west he saw what he presumed was the source of this dire turn.

"Bloody rude of you to piss in my teapot, old chap," he spat.

---

Back in the fray the Galllian troops turned from firing on any target they saw fit to all aiming at the same hulking target. But whereas their musket-balls had pierced through the chainmail of lesser demons, they now mostly ricocheted off a huge, diamond-shaped shield, with some instead pinging off plate armour, and the remainder missing. In response to their attacks their foe swung a big beefy battleaxe into the ground, sending another concussive wave towards the pike square. The bearer of this seemingly-impregnable armour and mighty weapon stood six and a half feet tall. His hair was black and cropped close to his head, from which four horns stuck out. The ears on his head had a slight point to them as well. Another armoured figure, this one holding a halberd, emerged from the Hellspawn ranks and came to his side. He too had black hair, down to his spiked shoulders. The army had come in contact with their first proper Daemonnes.

Some music to accompany this fight.

"MORTAL FOOLS! HUMAN SCUM! DID YOU TRULY THINK THESE NEW STAVES OF SPARKS AND SMOKE OF YOURS WOULD DEFEAT THE HORDES OF HELL? HA!" the devil bellowed. The warships began firing at him as well. However, the technology didn't exist in Gaiaca to precisely aim a cannon at a single person, especially if that cannon was rocking about in the water. Most of them missed, or at least managed to hit some nearby demon pikemen. But then one lucky shot went straight for him. Darkness magic surged around his shield, and he brought it up to block it. The cannonball sounded like the loudest bell in the world as it struck the enchanted shield, only to bounce off and sink into the snow ignominiously.

"WHERE IS THAT ANGELLE HAG? WHERE ARE YOUR PRECIOUS ELEMENTALS? GIVE THE TERRIFYING MASTER EMTONAK SOMETHING WORTHY OF MY TIME TO KILL, WHILE MY SERVANTS CLEANSE THIS ISLAND OF THE RABBLE AND FILTH THAT DARES DEFY MY KING! FORWARD, MY DEMONS!" The Hellspawn units began reforming, presenting a problem for the Galllians. Their pike and shot tactics could resist the attacks of the demons, and send them back below with musketfire. However, with the Daemonne commander now blasting apart the Galllian formations, the demons had openings where they could pour in and drown their enemies in their own blood. He began charging up Darkness magic, and the ground trembled beneath the snow.

The PC's had reassembled after falling back with the rest of the volunteers. Slaying the villain seemed out of the question for almost everyone else in the army. However, Tristan, Eric, and Lisoette already had heroic reputations from before the expedition began, and everyone else had witnessed what their new comrades were capable of in the battle against the fell-gulls, fell-owls, and fearsome sea serpent. Worried eyes hopefully turned towards them. Some men turned away, ashamed to look upon them and beg them to fight a foe they feared to fight themselves. Lisoette looked into Tristan's eyes, and she quickly kissed him.

"I know you can defeat this dirtbag, whoever he is, Trista-boo. We've fought tougher bad people than him," she said. Mrs. Frost then looked at the rest of the group, her motley group of friends, "I know we all can beat him. Let's go pummel this loser."

[Ameriganastan]

While the 1st and 2nd Adventurer Companies were by no means conventional military units, they were doing splendidly in their debut battle. The many Elementals in the vanguard were smiting Hellspawn left and right. Even the warriors who only had a sword or pistol and their courage were giving a good account of themselves, no doubt inspired by the thrilling idea of fighting alongside the servants of the gods against the forces of evil like in the stories they had all been told countless times, when going to bed as children, or sitting in church on Sundays. The spectacle of Belle Lame's Holy Terror only reinforced that feeling among the Gaiacan host. The Hellspawn, on the other hand, began scurrying back, leaving only the most enraged still attacking the party members and those alongside them in the front.

Lisoette had found herself near Eric as she fought her way through the throng of demons. She winced from the light as Belle took to the night sky, but not as much as the Hellspawn she was fighting against. Her tolerance for Light seemed to have grown since she could still see decently. True, Belle didn't radiate quite as much holy power as when she and Tristan had seen Froenstia, or whoever had brought judgement from on high upon the Watchtower base under the College of Bracksbure, but the Angelle was nothing to sneeze at. The encounter with Pryastar outside Carogne seemed to have supercharged her compared to her aura when she was just in sword form on their first adventure, or even at that initial reunion in the square in that same city. It was strange to think how the vast majority of people in Gaiaca went their whole lives without ever seeing one of the gods, and yet it felt as though half of her current associates had had an encounter with one of the Loyal Host somehow.

"Yeah, she's incredible, Eric," Lisoette said to the old soldier, catching her breath as the demons around them retreated. Some horsemen pursued them, felling the stragglers with their spears and sabres, but the Daemonness was content to stand there and observe her surroundings, at least for a few moments, "I think I would like it if I could do that kinda thing too. I wonder what it would be like if the two of us somehow swapped places, if Tristan had found me trapped in a sword like her and the two of you met in that Inferno...being an Angelle must be nice. She doesn't have to hide her wings."

---

"Sheesh, I need to have her teach me how to do that some day. She's making me look second-rate," the Messenger chuckled to himself in response to Belle's magic, killing the last demon close to him as he did so. The charred remnant of his spear was left buried in the foul creature. He had charged up a considerable amount of Fire magic by now, and took aim at the teeming mass of withdrawing enemies. The paladin brought his hands together as if he were holding a ball. The energy all over his body began flowing into the space between his hands, congealing into a scarlet marble at first, which continued to grow layer by layer.

"Lord Pryastar, immaculate font of flame, seated in Heaven over all! Favour a humble servant of thine in realms below thy glory, and answer his prayer in holy might and power! The enemies I doth rejoice to face in thy righteous service are many, and strong in the traitor-god's ways, but my faith is unshaken," The Fire magic had grown to the size of a pumpkin, but showed no signs of slowing down, "Though I am but one against eight, eighty, or eight hundred, one Elemental is all that is required to conquer any evil if his will and his patron's are one. Let my endless gratitude and renewed pledge of loyalty be a worthy offering in exchange for thy intercession in battle." Now the Messenger raised the great red orb over his head.

"Show thy hand upon this field of battle, and bring truth and righteousness crashing down! EIGHT-FOLD RED RIGHTEOUS METEOR SHOWER!"

The fireball flew straight up in the air about 20 yards, swelled one last time, and divided into eight spheres. The spell then began flying down towards the enemy army, the different fireballs spreading apart as they went like a shotgun blast. Though his voice had certainly not carried across the whole battlefield like Belle Lame's had, it wasn't hard to see the results of his handiwork. Eight explosions spread through the enemy ranks, two almost reaching their middle.

Silhouetted by the glowing red light from Pryastar's warriors one could now see long wooden sea monsters offshore, with spines rising high and white wings fluttering in the sea breeze; Federal warships, aiming their broadside at the enemy on land. Several seconds elapsed in tense silence. Out at sea an order was given that was too distant to be heard by the members of the party, before the Galllian navy roared at the Hellish army, and hurled a hundred cannonballs ashore. The bombardment continued in a more fragmented fashion as each ship began to fire at will. Under such conditions the order came for the Adventurer Companies to withdraw, lest they be struck by friendly fire.

The volunteers crossed paths with their professional counterparts. Individuals and small groups of tired and frenzied adventurers flowed like river rapids around the composed, stalwart rocks of 1st Battalion-A Company and 3rd Battalion-B Company, who were accompanied by the pikemen of Towraigth into an imposing pike square. Upon coming close enough to the enemy host Galllian officers ordered a halt, and the pikes instinctively lowered into a protective position.

"PRIME AND LOAD!" The Southemen musketmen put gunpowder and bullet in their firearms as efficiently as the mighty factories of their homeland.

It was here one could see an application of what was perhaps the chiefest of Galllian martial virtues. Some peoples in Gaiaca relied on sheer bravery and fighting spirit most of all to win their battles, foremost the Garmiccians and Calainites. The Yelhenneins or the Sahranjjites favoured quality over quantity with highly skilled elite warriors like the Queen's Chevaliers or the Eternal Dragon Guards. Lands like Beiriuk and Tyrnâth birthed guerrillas most skilled in surprise attacks, cunningly using the terrain and nature around them for bewildering enemies. Of course, one could find any of these qualities in warriors from any army in Gaiaca, but the various countries seemed to have their specialities.

"MAKE READY!" They brought their muskets up against their shoulders and aimed at the demons.

The Galllian soldier's greatest strength was his discipline, from Adrathur's day to the Federation and the Commonwealth. It was an iron will forged from fighting the ferocious beasts of the continent since time immemorial, by the harsh winters of the north where the empire began. When the gods gave unto Galllia her first emperor that discipline made her loyal and devoted, willing to follow Adrathur and his heirs across the seas to fight all manner of foes, and then fight the demons to a standstill when they tried to seize the world they had conquered. Where other civilisations would have tired, stumbled and been devoured in an apocalyptic war against Hell the Galllian legions held steadfast for centuries. While the Federal Army might not have been exactly as fearless and heroic as the tales told of the Scarlet Legions, they still possessed a fearsome portion of that discipline and tenacity. Colonel Firman had seen to it that his regiment measured up to that standard.

"FIRE!"

Dozens of demons dropped dead from the initial volley. No sooner had this happened that the front rank of Federal musketmen countermarched to the rear of their formation, and their brothers-in-arms behind them took their turn at monster hunting. With the sea breeze steadily blowing the smoke from their firing was carried inland. This permitted them to go on shooting at high accuracy, or at least as high as a musket would permit. Longbow traditionalists still insisted their weapon was far more accurate, and every so often some officer somewhere would write a treatise proposing the reintroduction of longbowmen somewhere in the army, whether in front-line formations, or skirmishers, or something else. The extensive use of crossbows by Watchtower, including reports of them having developed a repeating crossbow, had also recently stoked the flames of that debate. Nevertheless, those military thinkers were in faraway headquarters and academies, or wherever they had settled in after retiring; certainly not out in the cold and the dark clashing with Man's oldest foe.

---

"Jolly good, jolly good indeed. I should think this teapot is just about done brewing, old chap," Lt. Colonel Sir Basil Frederick Hennessy muttered, peering through his binoculars from atop his horse. With how softly the commander of the 1st Battalion had spoken and the lack of anybody else particularly close by the old chap in question was probably himself. His adjutant, Captain Ross Willis Steadyhand, heard the comment, but knew by now to leave the knight alone when he was in his thoughts like this. However, he snapped to attention at the sound of a different rider approaching.

"Good evening, my lord!" said Captain Steadyhand as Baron Hlojtur rode up to them with his retinue. The lieutenant colonel pulled his face away from his binoculars, allowing one to see more of it than a wrinkled forehead with a horizontal scar along its entirety and bushy eyebrows. The nobleman acknowledged the junior officer with a quick nod before addressing the commander.

"When are you bringing the Duke's knights from the rear?" He asked bluntly, "You can see how the Hellspawn are breaking. We've been grinding them down for weeks. At last we have a chance to hunt the bastards down and put an end to this! We should continue our advance and trample them, rather than let them fall back to outside the walls of Mithsbow and finish what they've started there."

"We can wait a bit longer, Your Lordship," Sir Hennessy replied, "Our brigade only has so many troops, and only a hundred of those knights, against a foe whose numbers haven't been properly estimated yet, at least as far as I am aware. Not to mention that reinforcements take a week to get to your islands, and I don't know for sure when the second wave is setting sail from St. Veowulf. Every demon that gets shot in the back by one of our muskets or crushed by a naval cannonball is one less demon that has a chance of making one of our men a casualty we'll be bloody hard-pressed to replace."

A horrid metallic screech pulled his attention back to the battlefield. Even without binoculars one could see a bloom of angry burgundy energy directed towards the Galllian forces and the explosion that followed in its wake. Another screech rang out, although there wasn't a flashy burst of colour with it. Lt. Colonel Hennessy brought his binoculars back up to determine what was happening. He grimaced as his enhanced gaze spotted the tightly-packed infantrymen had been knocked down, though at least they were staggering back up to their feet. How long they would be able to keep standing was uncertain. Turning his gaze more to the west he saw what he presumed was the source of this dire turn.

"Bloody rude of you to piss in my teapot, old chap," he spat.

---

Back in the fray the Galllian troops turned from firing on any target they saw fit to all aiming at the same hulking target. But whereas their musket-balls had pierced through the chainmail of lesser demons, they now mostly ricocheted off a huge, diamond-shaped shield, with some instead pinging off plate armour, and the remainder missing. In response to their attacks their foe swung a big beefy battleaxe into the ground, sending another concussive wave towards the pike square. The bearer of this seemingly-impregnable armour and mighty weapon stood six and a half feet tall. His hair was black and cropped close to his head, from which four horns stuck out. The ears on his head had a slight point to them as well. Another armoured figure, this one holding a halberd, emerged from the Hellspawn ranks and came to his side. He too had black hair, down to his spiked shoulders. The army had come in contact with their first proper Daemonnes.

Some music to accompany this fight.

"MORTAL FOOLS! HUMAN SCUM! DID YOU TRULY THINK THESE NEW STAVES OF SPARKS AND SMOKE OF YOURS WOULD DEFEAT THE HORDES OF HELL? HA!" the devil bellowed. The warships began firing at him as well. However, the technology didn't exist in Gaiaca to precisely aim a cannon at a single person, especially if that cannon was rocking about in the water. Most of them missed, or at least managed to hit some nearby demon pikemen. But then one lucky shot went straight for him. Darkness magic surged around his shield, and he brought it up to block it. The cannonball sounded like the loudest bell in the world as it struck the enchanted shield, only to bounce off and sink into the snow ignominiously.

"WHERE IS THAT ANGELLE HAG? WHERE ARE YOUR PRECIOUS ELEMENTALS? GIVE THE TERRIFYING MASTER EMTONAK SOMETHING WORTHY OF MY TIME TO KILL, WHILE MY SERVANTS CLEANSE THIS ISLAND OF THE RABBLE AND FILTH THAT DARES DEFY MY KING! FORWARD, MY DEMONS!" The Hellspawn units began reforming, presenting a problem for the Galllians. Their pike and shot tactics could resist the attacks of the demons, and send them back below with musketfire. However, with the Daemonne commander now blasting apart the Galllian formations, the demons had openings where they could pour in and drown their enemies in their own blood. He began charging up Darkness magic, and the ground trembled beneath the snow.

The PC's had reassembled after falling back with the rest of the volunteers. Slaying the villain seemed out of the question for almost everyone else in the army. However, Tristan, Eric, and Lisoette already had heroic reputations from before the expedition began, and everyone else had witnessed what their new comrades were capable of in the battle against the fell-gulls, fell-owls, and fearsome sea serpent. Worried eyes hopefully turned towards them. Some men turned away, ashamed to look upon them and beg them to fight a foe they feared to fight themselves. Lisoette looked into Tristan's eyes, and she quickly kissed him.

"I know you can defeat this dirtbag, whoever he is, Trista-boo. We've fought tougher bad people than him," she said. Mrs. Frost then looked at the rest of the group, her motley group of friends, "I know we all can beat him. Let's go pummel this loser."

"Oh, man. I must be losing a step..."

The adrenaline had worn off slightly for Eric. And he was suddenly feeling his age as he caught his breath behind the line.

"I guess I'm a little long in the tooth for these big battles. Really more of a young man's game. Guy my age is usually giving out the orders."

He popped about 5 cricks out of various parts of his body, looking around at the gathered volunteers.

"Well, I may not be giving orders. But I can do what I know I'm good at."

He looked around the line, finding a man on a horse.

"Hey, skippy. Need to borrow your nag for a second. Hop off."

He didn't wait for a response. He simply yanked the soldier off and hopped up, getting a good look at the gathered rabble. He took a deep breath. It'd been a while since he used his commander voice. But it rang out loud and clear.

"What are you looking so scared for, huh!? You think big ugly out there is something to be afraid of? He's one, fairly large demon. I once waited behind the walls of Villdernheim for an entire army of them, an army even larger than you see out here. There were hundreds of demons that size approaching the gates."

Of course he was leaving out the part about never seeing the demon army, and was going by stories he'd heard from soldiers on the front line who'd survived. But they didn't need to know that.

"And like you, I was scared. But I'm a soldier, and I was prepared to fight. It's what we do. We fight, we possibly die, but we win the day. And we're gonna win this day, just you watch!"

Belle landed beside him, Eric pointing at her.

"Literal Angelle by the way. How many of you believe in Pyrastar?"

A sizable contingent raised their hands.

"Yeah, she's allegedly one of his Angelle's. So just to clarify, we've got a way better army than that fat sheep shagger. We're gonna kill him good, go home and tear the town down with the biggest party you've ever seen! What do you say, partner?"

He hopped off the horse, Belle nodding in agreement.

"Let's send this fat fucker back to the pit where he belongs. What are you thinking, the Trodwood Twostep?"

"No, I'm thinking...Maneuver F-O-Y."

Belle actually gasped.

"You know how risky that plan is? The one time we tried it, you nearly died. And not your regular nearly died, you were legally dead for like 3 minutes after it wore off."

"Well, desperate times. It's the best idea I've got. I need something super juicy to be of use against this big bastard. You trust me, partner?"

She shook her head.

"No, but you seem dead-set on this. So let's do it. Just remember, this was your plan. If this kills you, it's your fault."

She flashed into sword form, Eric taking a deep breath.

"Let's do it. You guys are gonna love this. Get a good look, cause this is the biggest ace-in-the-hole I got. Not something I can break out all the time."

He gripped Belle with two hands, the both of them glowing brightly.

"Okay, hit me with the juice!"

The glow became nearly blinding, soldiers shielding their eyes from it. As it wore off, Eric stood there. But he looked a little...different.

"Yeah, get a good look. Say hello to what I looked like in my prime. Handsome bastard, ain't I?"

He'd seemingly de-aged about 30 years. Standing there with not a speck of gray or wrinkle on him.

"Something about her pumping so much healing energy into me that it basically works like a fountain of youth. Hence, maneuver F-O-Y. Nifty, huh? We came up with this-"

"Story later, Eric. Remember this thing has a time limit before all this Angellic essence vaporizes you."

"Right, right. Let's rock."

He leaped...and we mean really leaped. Landing square in the middle of the battlefield in front of big ugly.

"Hey, how's it going? Name's Eric Lumen. And I'm here to kill you."

He swung Belle at the giant monster, launching a crescent of fire from his sword at him.

[Zarkenis Ultima]

---

---

Seeing as the demons in their immediate vicinity were quickly decimated without their lieutenant to guide them and hearing the roar of cannon fire and the orders issued by the expedition's commanders, both Tristan and Hakkon were quick to fall back as a wall of pikes and muskets made its way to the frontlines. The latter was somewhat irked by this development despite understanding its strategical soundness, hoping to get back into the fray soon, while the former was more than a little relieved at the chance to take a break from the battle. In any case, they soon reunited with the rest of the 1st Adventurer Company and watched as the Federal troops and the Baron's own forces took the field, mowing down waves of hellspawn with the aid of the fleet. While the roaring cannon fire drowned out nearly all conversation, the two Elementals could still hear the troops around them cheering.

Those cries of imminent victory were promptly silenced as the finest of Hell's forces finally showed up, two Daemonnes clad in ebony black armor whose strength clearly dwarfed that of the North born pikemen tasked with halting their advance. Tristan, while not surprised to see them intervene in a large scale invasion such as this, was nonetheless concerned. While he and a few others in the gang had faced Daemonnes in the past, in retrospect they seemed of lesser rank than the two before them, presumably commanders. He had the feeling that they would not be the last obstacle they would be facing during this battle, either, but until something else happened the best he could do was deal with them to the best of his ability.

Lisoette seemed to have the same idea, as she turned to him and kissed him before speaking words of encouragement for him and the rest of the party. Smiling briefly, the white-haired warrior nodded. "You're right, this guy's got nothing on the Black Beast, or the sea serpent from before. Let's take care of him and finish this battle." He said in reply, squeezing her arm affectionately - he would've held her hand instead, but between her machete and her leiomano, both of her hands were a bit full at the moment. "I would suggest we form a plan of attack before charging in, but-"

Just before he finished his sentence, the blinding light coming from Belle's metallic form reached him, causing him to turn away. By the time it was safe to look back, Eric had finished rousing the soldiers around him and leaped into the fray looking far stronger - and younger - than usual. Tristan simply chuckled at the sight. "...I had a feeling something like that was going to happen anyway, so let's just improvise. It's gotten us this far." He stated. "Let's try to help from a distance and not get in Eric's way, he and Belle are on a roll tonight." He said to anyone around who would hear, before finally taking off, a thin layer of ice forming beneath his feet as he skated away instead of running. Taking care to avoid any large formations of enemies, he maneuvered to the Daemonne's flank and swung Fenrirtusk in a wide arc, sending three jagged ice spikes towards Emtonak.

Meanwhile, a bit of a ways separate from Tristan and the rest, Hakkon observed the situation keenly. Though at the moment he wanted nothing more than to answer that foul Daemonne's challenge, stride up to him and give him a good smack on the back of the head, something held him back. Before, he'd thought nothing of throwing himself into the melee - they were fighting against a stray pack of demons, not their main force, and everyone in his group was more than capable of fending for themselves. But now, as he saw the Federal army's frontline in shambles due to the demonic onslaught, he knew he couldn't simply ignore that and take the easy path to glory. The men that brandished their pikes as they desperately tried to hold their ground, they were good men, good men fighting and dying for a just cause. No self-respecting warrior of the Gods could ignore that.

It was a hard decision to make, but rather than head directly towards the so-called Master Emtonak, the hide-clad Albrian headed straight towards the largest of the openings the Daemonne had created in the wall of pikes, pushing his way across Federal and local troops alike.

"Men! Behind me!" He shouted at the troops, his voice not quite as loud and bloodthirsty as the Baron's, but definitely far more bellowing than the Colonel's. He did not utter another word, but it didn't take much to convince the soldiers to comply - while they were certainly resolute in pushing back the tide, most were already attempting to retreat to a more defensible position before regrouping and pushing back against the demons, and the aid of an Elemental seemed like a pretty good deal. As they fell back and watched the mountain man expectantly, he suddenly crossed his arms in front of himself, his fingers seemingly grasping at the air. Underneath the bear hide cloak he wore, his muscles tensed up as if he were exerting a tremendous amount of force. A few moments passed with nothing else happening, the demon horde drawing closer and closer.

Then, with a mighty roar, he spread his arms.

"SEISMIC RUPTURE!" He bellowed, and suddenly the earth around him shifted, parting in front of him and creating a wide, deep trench in front of himself and the pikemen around him. The first wave of demons promptly fell face first into the rocky ground below, while the next seemed to think better of their situation and stopped just shy of it - only to be pushed in by the demons that came after them.

"Now, men of Gallia! Strike back! Purge every last fiend in front of you!" He shouted at the troops. While their morale had taken a hit after seeing the havoc caused by a single Daemonne on the enemy's side, Hakkon's intervention reminded them that the demons were not the only ones with the aid of a God, and with renewed vigor the soldiers brought their pikes to bear on the demons trapped in the trench below. Some of the hellspawn that had managed to avoid getting pushed in attempted to jump over the gap, but for most it was hopeless - they would either fall to the pit all the same or impale themselves on some lucky soldier's spear. One of them seemed like it might make it to the other side, but a gut punch from the Earth Elemental sent it flying back into its own ranks with all of its ribs broken.

"The Father of Mountains sends his regards." He said, to no one in particular. It would take much more than this to win the battle against the demons besieging Mithsbow for good, of course, but with this, he had at least given many good men a fighting chance.

[Constaniana]

Emtonak roared and snarled as he was caught in Belle's flames. Nevertheless, he managed to collect his wits and roll out of harm's way after several moments, though one side of his face looked a bit burnt. His battleaxe crackled with magic as he swung it towards the reinvigorated Eric. Lumen dodged it, but there was more than one Daemonne to contend with.

"Bekungirz the Endless Halberd, and I'm here to kill you first," snapped the other Daemonne as he jabbed his halberd at Eric. Eric chuckled scornfully as he dodged the attack, but Bekungirz had more tricks up his sleeve. Slamming the pole end of his weapon into the snow like a wizard's staff, he quickly scribbled a few small runes and glared at his foe. "Like the heads of a hydra, may the lord of all sin multiply my weapon! Chaos Armament Fractal!"

Red and purple ribbons of Darkness magic shot up the length of the halberd, and it shattered like a broken window. In its place was a shimmering, wispy ghost of a spear. Bekungirz threw it at Eric, and as he did so tiny portals opened around his target, from which six smaller black magic spears, axe blades, and hooks emerged, also swinging at Lumen. The Daemonne opened another portal in the blink of an eye and drew forth another ethereal weapon, an axe this time, and made another strike at Eric.

Emtonak looked poised to join his bodyguard in attacking Eric, until Tristan's ice spikes slammed into him, knocking him to the ground. He was on his feet two seconds later. The Hellspawn commander fixed his gaze upon the Champion of Ice, far out of reach and skating too quickly for him to catch him normally, even if Emtonak was more agile than most men or Daemonnes his size in plate armour.

"Stand still so I can slay you, boy," Master Emtonak sneered. Waves of black and purple began crackling along his form, "Temptation's Chains!"

"Oh no you don't!" cried Lisoette, hitting Emtonak in the back with her leiomano as he cast his spell. Seven tendrils of shadow burst through the snow to try grasping Mr. Frost, but six of them now sprouted around Mrs. Frost instead. Her machete made quick work of three of them. The fourth tendril latched onto her left hand, attempting to rip away the troubling blade from her grip. Lisoette shredded through the offending tentacle with her leiomano's shark teeth.

Emtonak quickly bashed Lisoette with his shield; upon a successful first attack he followed through with a heavier swing of the shield, knocking her back a yard or two. While still prone Lisoette fired off a quick bolt of lightning at her attacker, hitting him square in the chest. Tendrils #5 and #6 still pressed their attack, and Lisoette swiftly found herself pinned down. A bloodied, enraged Emtonak towered over her. The devil commander raised his axe above his horned head.

[Ameriganastan]

Emtonak roared and snarled as he was caught in Belle's flames. Nevertheless, he managed to collect his wits and roll out of harm's way after several moments, though one side of his face looked a bit burnt. His battleaxe crackled with magic as he swung it towards the reinvigorated Eric. Lumen dodged it, but there was more than one Daemonne to contend with.

"Bekungirz the Endless Halberd, and I'm here to kill you first," snapped the other Daemonne as he jabbed his halberd at Eric. Eric chuckled scornfully as he dodged the attack, but Bekungirz had more tricks up his sleeve. Slamming the pole end of his weapon into the snow like a wizard's staff, he quickly scribbled a few small runes and glared at his foe. "Like the heads of a hydra, may the lord of all sin multiply my weapon! Chaos Armament Fractal!"

Red and purple ribbons of Darkness magic shot up the length of the halberd, and it shattered like a broken window. In its place was a shimmering, wispy ghost of a spear. Bekungirz threw it at Eric, and as he did so tiny portals opened around his target, from which six smaller black magic spears, axe blades, and hooks emerged, also swinging at Lumen. The Daemonne opened another portal in the blink of an eye and drew forth another ethereal weapon, an axe this time, and made another strike at Eric.

"Oh, shit!"

Even temporarily brought back to his prime and pumped full of Angelle power, Eric barely managed to deflect the barrage of projectiles. One even slipped past his defense, slicing his cheek as it flew past him.

"Damn. If I wasn't all supercharged right now, that might have killed me..."

He wiped the blood from his cheek...and started laughing. Flicking the blood at the demon before the wound healed up, courtesy of all the healing energy.

"First off, the Endless Halberd? That is the worst nickname I've ever heard. And I once fought an enemy commander nicknamed 'The Black Vegetable'. So that should tell you something. That being said, not a bad trick. If I'd have been a second slower, I'd be a pincushion right now. I'm at the strongest I can manage, and you cut me. That means you may provide a challenge. I like a challenge."

He paced back and forth, dragging Belle across the ground.

"A true warrior needs no pompous nickname. It just means you're too scared to fight as yourself. The Endless Halberd. Feh. I bear no fancy-pants nickname or moniker. I'm simply Eric Joseph Lumen. And I'm here for a fight."

He took a step forward...and seemingly blinked straight to his new opponent, staring him right in the eyes. While his own eyes quite literally seemed to be burning with a fire behind them.

"So don't disappoint me."

He spit in the demon's eye and took a swing straight for his neck with Belle. While a few stunned soldiers offered prayers on high.

"And so, the Demons cried out in fear and the Angelles sang their foreboding song, for verily, the God of fire had given his vengeance a human form..."

[Zarkenis Ultima]

---

The so-called Master Emtonak didn't seem too happy about the ice spikes Tristan had sent his way, though luckily it didn't seem like the Daemonne had any means to reach the Ice Elemental, which meant he would be fine as long as he continued skating at a distance and continued to use ranged attacks against him. With that in mind, Tristan began focusing his magic to unleash a more substantial attack.

At least, that was the plan. But the white-haired warrior quickly changed gears when he saw his wife place herself in harm's way to protect him from the Daemonne's foul spell. Seeing the dire situation that Lisoette now found herself in, Tristan threw caution to the wind and began skating straight towards Emtonak, hoping that he could arrive before something happened to the undercover Daemonness. In his frenzy, he failed to detect the sole shadow tendril snaking across the snow-covered battlefield until it jumped out at him, attempting to bind him just like the other tendrils had bound Lisoette. Perhaps a second too late, Tristan began raising his glaive to protect himself, but it turned out to be unnecessary: before it could reach him, a crystalline arrow pierced through it before suddenly expanding into a mass of icy spikes that weighed down and further mutilated the shadow appendage.

What was that? The young man wondered, briefly looking towards the treeline, only to see a flash of scarlet moving between the snow-covered branches. He would've observed some more to get a better grasp on who was hiding there, but there was no time to waste - he could see the fiendish commander raising his axe to bring it down upon Lisoette, something that he simply could not allow. Using his pillar jumping technique, the Champion of Ice positioned himself above Master Emtonak and then focused his magic on the blade of his holy glaive as he swung it downwards, a massive blade of ice suddenly manifesting around it at the height of the swing, its weight empowering the descending force.

"Frozen Guillotine!" The Ice Elemental shouted. Surely the same technique that allowed him to take Kayarost's arm would serve him well here.

[Constaniana]

"And so, the Demons cried out in fear and the Angelles sang their foreboding song, for verily, the God of fire had given his vengeance a human form..."

So abundant was the magic surging through Eric that even his spit was saturated with Pryastar's power, making the spit sizzle as it struck Bekungirz's right eye. The Daemonne's remaining good eye widened as the flaming blade rushed towards the neck which bore it up. Bekungirz leaned back as if to dodge the high swing.

"Shadow-" He shouted. His voice was cut off by the screech of the fabric of reality, due to the fact he added an arcane touch to his movement. Bekungirz's latest spell opened a portal behind him that fit his whole body, and he fell through it. Not more than a second after he was into the Void did he reemerge, opening a portal several feet behind Eric. A tendril of Darkness coiled around the handle of his axe, and launched towards the wanderer, "Serpent Striker!"

Unfortunately, Eric's hearing was still as good as it had ever been, and was very familiar with the sound of someone trying to jump him from behind. Normally it was mountain lions, bandits, or jilted lovers doing that sort of thing, but a Hellspawn was close enough. With all the healing energy from Maneuver F-O-Y in him his joints were up to the task of spinning around in a moment. Lumen met his dark axe with Belle Lame, and it sounded like a stroke of thunder. The force of the colliding, enchanted sword and axe blasted the snow around them far away.

Back and forth the Daemonne whipped his weapon. Eric would knock the axe back after several blows and close some of the gap in the blink of an eye before Bekungirz swung his axe-tentacle back down. Steadily the wanderer pressed closer and closer to his opponent, until they were face to face once more, blades locked while Fire and Darkness crackling about the warriors. With a great heave Eric overcame Bekungirz, and the energy that had built up betwixt their weapons exploded in the Daemonne's face, launching him back twenty yards.

This Gaiacan is ferocious. I would have an advantage if I could keep him at bay with my halberd, but he can move quicker than I can see. Such speed leaves me too vulnerable if I were to use a more advanced spell with a longer incantation, not to mention that casting back to back higher-level teleportation-focused spells has taken a lot out of me. Most of my foes haven't survived Chaos Armament Fractal, and the ones that did generally fell soon afterwards. Only a handful have ever lasted long enough to warrant me using Shadow Serpent Striker. So, I'm left to use this axe at close range...where he definitely has an advantage with his sword...

Bekungirz paused his internal monologue to fire off simple beams of Darkness. Odds were that they would fail to strike down their target, but at least it might fluster him a little bit, and it gave him some cover as he finally rose to his feet. At least as this distance the flaming eyes of his enemy couldn't see him grimace from the bruising and probable broken bone or two his backfired attack had inflicted upon him, or how it was still too painful to open his right eye.

Well, better by far to die in glory on the shores of this world our race has lusted after for all eternity than be assassinated by some treacherous maggot or eaten by a Void-monster back down in Hell.

"Oh, you'll get a fight alright, Fire Elemental! Bekungirz the Endless Halberd has slain a score of mighty warriors as boastful as you are! Now then, Eric Joseph Lumen...DIE IN THE NAME OF HELL!" the Daemonne bellowed. He charged towards Eric. What Darkness magic he had remaining blazed to life about his form, cloaking him in a surging black and purple aura. Once he was nearly upon Eric Bekungirz brought his axe back. The ghostly weapon melted back into the particles of Darkness magic from whence it came, and in its place appeared a solid black halberd. The Hellspawn warrior thrust his armament of choice at his enemy, a large blast of Darkness firing from the spear tip as the blade drove towards Eric's torso.

"Frozen Guillotine!" The Ice Elemental shouted. Surely the same technique that allowed him to take Kayarost's arm would serve him well here.

Fenrirtusk struck Emtonak's axe with a mighty clang, and the dark weapon was knocked clean out of his grip. The nearby snow sizzled a little as the axe sank into it. Despite his beefy stature the Daemonne commander had impressive reflexes, and managed to bring his hefty shield up to meet the blessed glaive.

"The shield Nashzara was mageforged by one of the finest sorcerers in Hell! It withstood the blast of one of your Gaiacan cannons without a dent! I defy anything you have to break it, feeble Elemental in service to a feeble goddess!" Emtonak boasted. But the goddess Froenstia was mightier than a cannon, or the warship that carried it, or all the navies in the world. In response to his blasphemy the Frozen Guillotine shone brighter still, and its pale blue light surged into Nashzara, which glowed black in defiance. There came a crack from the shield that sounded like an iceberg breaking. Fenrirtusk drove through Nashzara at last, splitting it clean in half. There was no time for the shattered shield's wielder to do anything before the Ice spell penetrated his spiked right shoulder pad, down through the other layers of his armour, emerging from his back. Green blood oozed from the wound, and more of it was spat out a few moments later by the defeated Master Emtonak.

As his life-force ebbed out of him the shadowy tendrils he had conjured earlier disappeared, and Lisoette sprang back to her feet and raised her weapons in front of her. A cheer arose from the watching soldiers, and they began pushing back the demons with an even greater ferocity than before. Without the threat of Emtonak blocking their attacks the fleet restarted their bombardment in earnest also. In some spots along the front line the packs of demons began to fall back, and the pike squares they were facing off against slowly but surely moved to pursue. There seemed to be no other Daemonne to take command of the horde; there had been more of them in the chain of command earlier in the day, but they had perished in the earlier battle at Towraigth. Watchtower officers might have tried assuming control, but even this far into the battle no actual member of the cult had shown their face on the field. Lord Hlojtur had said that the enemy forces from earlier in the day had retreated inland to the island's forest, so perhaps they were still lurking in there.

---

The Baron of Towraigth gave Sir Hennessy another silent look. After a few more moments watching the battlefield the lieutenant colonel met his gaze and gave a nod.

"My lord, prepare your riders for one last charge. Captain Steadyhand, get Major Ramspring and Major Hlugosv to ready their units for the same."

---

Back at the centre of the battlefield the commander of the Hellspawn army glared at the Champion of Ice, the way an old boar might look upon the hunter who had finally brought him down. There was certainly profound rage, but somewhere in there was a hint of grudging respect. Emtonak coughed again; the mixture of his blood filling in his lungs and Ice magic spreading in his body from his grievous wound made it feel as though he was slowly drowning in a frozen pond. The Daemonne sluggishly threw a punch at the one who had vanquished him.

"This might be the end of me, but you haven't won this war just yet. King Carrion still has many more fighters than the force I see arrayed against mine. If he could last as long as he has as a warlord in Hell then he'll be more than a match for any soft Gaiacan army. I thought your world's only stratagem against us in this age was praying that Pryastar does the work for you like he did against Kayarost. But perhaps we'll have to break a sweat after all, even in this cold winter," The Daemonne chuckled bitterly.

"You're an awful lot stronger than you look, boy. I don't expect you, your woman, your loudmouth friend, or anyone else with you to survive this campaign, unless you flee tonight back to wherever you came from, but you'll be...most spirited prey indeed. My lord will have much to boast of when he is finally through with you. At the very least your heads will be mounted in the great hall of the palace he will build to govern his new kingdom in this world, if he doesn't have your corpses stuffed for all his court and visitors to admire. That glaive of yours will hang with pride in his treasure vault.

"O that the twin shards of Nashzara may be permitted to hang near them, in remembrance of me for dying in his service...alongside the many other proud warriors of Hell who I fear will share my fate before you are felled. I am hardly a soothsayer, though as a Daemonne we seem to have a certain predisposition to that...but I feel as though I can sense that much about your path, at least. Perhaps my soul's closeness to leaving this temporal body permits me to peer behind Jaehlhadon's veil of time. You didn't think a deity would give a weapon like the one you bear to an Elemental they expect to only go on one or two adventurers for a single season before retiring to a peaceful village somewhere far away from the great troubles of the world, did you? No, my boy, I see much more of this in your future, even if you do somehow defeat King Carrion. You will sit in councils in palaces, march with legions across continents, sail with fleets across seas, and bear witness to the forming and breaking of empires, of the turning of history itself."

Perhaps it was another gift from on high that Emtonak's premonitions only seemed to focus on the Ice Elemental, as if the Daemonness he had been about to kill was not even there, or obscured by divine power. Had he been concentrating on her there wouldn't have been any reason for him to not reveal her secret to all the spectators watching them, leaving this life with a most spiteful parting blow.

"I, Master Emtonak, ask of you a simple question, so I may be able to properly explain the circumstances of my death when my soul returns to Tenaembra. What is your name, Elemental?" he inquired at last. As his last breath crept ever closer his rambling monologue left him short of breath, and another coughing fit ensued. Through it all he still managed to remain standing tall. Far behind them to the east, over the sound of musketfire and melee combat came the faint, distant rumbling of many hooves, reminiscent of black clouds gathering at the edge of the horizon.

[Zarkenis Ultima]

"I am Tristan Frost." The white-haired hero spoke, strangely compelled to honor the dying Daemonne's last request. "Champion of Ice."

With that, the Ice Elemental pulled his divine weapon free from the fiend's body, sealing his fate. No spray of blood came out of it, as the Daemonne's green ichor had congealed in his veins due to the powerful ice magic that had finally taken the dark general's life. Though he had finally fallen, however, Master Emtonak did not depart from the mortal realm like most other warriors did, falling to the ground at the moment of his vanquishing. His lifeless husk continued to stand tall in spite of everything, like a great oak tree that no longer grew leaves or bore acorns and yet refused to become just another stump in a forgotten grove. Seeing that remnant of the infernal warrior's resolve, Tristan felt a trace of that same grudging respect the Daemonne had shown. Perhaps in time, Boaltist would send down a lightning strike to fell that forsaken tree, and the elements would topple Emtonak's body and reclaim his flesh. But the Ice Elemental felt it was not his place to partake in any of that. He left the warrior's husk alone, walking past it.

For even though the Daemonne's words continued to ring ominous within his head, for Tristan there was something far more important in his mind right now. Flicking his wrist to free his glaive from the traces of sickly emerald blood that remained on it, he put the weapon away and approached Lisoette. "Are you alright, my love? Did Emtonak hurt you?" He asked as his hands cupped the blonde warrior's face lovingly. Perhaps another Elemental would have called his fallen foe a fiend or some other such thing, but he could hardly do so given his beloved wife's secret, a secret that would spell trouble if it were to be found out by the Federal army, or the Baron's forces, or the Scarlet Knights of the Sun. Perhaps the nature of their relationship was part of the reason he had felt some semblance of respect for the fallen general, as well. It was not unreasonable to think so.

Still, an enemy was an enemy. And an enemy that brought with it nothing but ruin and threatened to take away that which he treasured the most in this world was not an enemy he was willing to allow in his presence for long, if there was anything he could do about it.

"I'm glad I could act in time to stop him. If something had happened to you because of my shortcomings, I... don't know what I would've done." He admitted. The two of them had certainly faced mortality before, both during their adventures with Aldraniri and the rest of the gang, and during their life in Yuelkelu. But as the two continued to spend their time together, Tristan was faced with the feeling that he had more to lose than before.

"Although..." He glanced back at the distant treeline, where he had seen a flash of scarlet moving along the snowy foliage after an enchanted arrow had struck Emtonak's foul spell. "It seems I had someone else's help. I'll have to thank them once this is all done."

Meanwhile, another figure walked up to the battlefield that had formed around the powerful Daemonnes and their Elemental opponents, an imposing one, albeit luckily it was a friendly face rather than another foe. The man clad in bear hide was covered in dirt and snow, and the visible parts of his arm and chest sported a few new scars from his recent bouts with the demon horde as he fought at the front of the pike wall, using his gifts as an Earth Elemental and moving the earth to form trenches and fortifications to help the joint Gallian army on their advance. Overall, however, he looked no worse for wear aside from a noticeable lack of breath as he moved towards Tristan, Eric and the rest, not wanting to stray far from his fellow Elementals and other assorted chosen warriors in case another powerful foe showed itself. He had missed this battle, but another was surely coming, sooner or later.

[Ameriganastan]

So abundant was the magic surging through Eric that even his spit was saturated with Pryastar's power, making the spit sizzle as it struck Bekungirz's right eye. The Daemonne's remaining good eye widened as the flaming blade rushed towards the neck which bore it up. Bekungirz leaned back as if to dodge the high swing.

"Shadow-" He shouted. His voice was cut off by the screech of the fabric of reality, due to the fact he added an arcane touch to his movement. Bekungirz's latest spell opened a portal behind him that fit his whole body, and he fell through it. Not more than a second after he was into the Void did he reemerge, opening a portal several feet behind Eric. A tendril of Darkness coiled around the handle of his axe, and launched towards the wanderer, "Serpent Striker!"

Unfortunately, Eric's hearing was still as good as it had ever been, and was very familiar with the sound of someone trying to jump him from behind. Normally it was mountain lions, bandits, or jilted lovers doing that sort of thing, but a Hellspawn was close enough. With all the healing energy from Maneuver F-O-Y in him his joints were up to the task of spinning around in a moment. Lumen met his dark axe with Belle Lame, and it sounded like a stroke of thunder. The force of the colliding, enchanted sword and axe blasted the snow around them far away.

Back and forth the Daemonne whipped his weapon. Eric would knock the axe back after several blows and close some of the gap in the blink of an eye before Bekungirz swung his axe-tentacle back down. Steadily the wanderer pressed closer and closer to his opponent, until they were face to face once more, blades locked while Fire and Darkness crackling about the warriors. With a great heave Eric overcame Bekungirz, and the energy that had built up betwixt their weapons exploded in the Daemonne's face, launching him back twenty yards.

This Gaiacan is ferocious. I would have an advantage if I could keep him at bay with my halberd, but he can move quicker than I can see. Such speed leaves me too vulnerable if I were to use a more advanced spell with a longer incantation, not to mention that casting back to back higher-level teleportation-focused spells has taken a lot out of me. Most of my foes haven't survived Chaos Armament Fractal, and the ones that did generally fell soon afterwards. Only a handful have ever lasted long enough to warrant me using Shadow Serpent Striker. So, I'm left to use this axe at close range...where he definitely has an advantage with his sword...

Bekungirz paused his internal monologue to fire off simple beams of Darkness. Odds were that they would fail to strike down their target, but at least it might fluster him a little bit, and it gave him some cover as he finally rose to his feet. At least as this distance the flaming eyes of his enemy couldn't see him grimace from the bruising and probable broken bone or two his backfired attack had inflicted upon him, or how it was still too painful to open his right eye.

Well, better by far to die in glory on the shores of this world our race has lusted after for all eternity than be assassinated by some treacherous maggot or eaten by a Void-monster back down in Hell.

"Oh, you'll get a fight alright, Fire Elemental! Bekungirz the Endless Halberd has slain a score of mighty warriors as boastful as you are! Now then, Eric Joseph Lumen...DIE IN THE NAME OF HELL!" the Daemonne bellowed. He charged towards Eric. What Darkness magic he had remaining blazed to life about his form, cloaking him in a surging black and purple aura. Once he was nearly upon Eric Bekungirz brought his axe back. The ghostly weapon melted back into the particles of Darkness magic from whence it came, and in its place appeared a solid black halberd. The Hellspawn warrior thrust his armament of choice at his enemy, a large blast of Darkness firing from the spear tip as the blade drove towards Eric's torso.

Oh, this is going to hurt...

To the shock of any warrior watching, Eric lowered his defenses and took a deep breath. Grimacing for what was coming.

"Come on!"

Bekungirz strike landed true, spearing Eric straight through the chest. He slumped for a few moments...and then coughed up a little blood, grabbing Bekungirz by the wrist with his free hand.

"Son of a bitch, that hurt. How close was he to my heart?"

"An inch to the right and you'd be dead already. You know I can't heal death, right? If he would have speared you in the heart, that's game over. My healing abilities do have limitations you know."

"Cripes, you even nag when I have a weapon stuck in my chest...oh, right. You."

He finally returned his attention to Bekungirz.

"You know, this armor isn't exactly replaceable. I gotta fix all these dings and dents and slash marks during my free time. You know what a pain that is?"

He squeezed his wrist hard, the sound of bones cracking audible to anyone nearby.

"I mean, look at this giant gash. I don't even know if that's fixable. Been wearing this same armor for decades, and now it might be done in because of you, you shite eating bastard."

He finally crushed the demons wrist like a twig, kicking him the chest and sending him sailing backwards. He ripped the weapon from his chest, tossing it on the ground.

"The proud soldier of Villdernheim treats his armor like a trusted friend. You take proper care of it, it takes proper care of you. And you hurt my friend. That pisses me off."

As the giant hole in his torso closed up, he stomped on the ground. The surrounding area rumbling slightly.

"And my other friends would be pissed off too."

He stabbed Belle in the ground, Bekungirz finding himself surrounded in a ring of holy fire. Which soon took the form of fiery humanoid shapes with equally fiery weapons in hand.

"Or the closest approximation of those late friends as displayed in flames."

The cadre of flame facsimiles raised their swords, all pointing at Bekungirz.

"It was fun there, Burgernuts. But I don't have a lot of time before I literally vaporize. So..."

He snapped his fingers and the entire platoon charged at Bekungirz.