Beyond Light's Reach (IC)

[The Republic of Atria]

Theo

And with an admittedly impressive display of unexpected teamwork, the Dragon Killer and his ally plunged their weapons into the monster mere fractions of a second after he had. What fight that had remained in the creature left and it dropped with a THUD that one could feel. He was all too ready to jump back into the fray and move on with bringing the next massive demon down, but the warriors who were fighting them were better than he had expected, as the rest had been slain or were in the process of dying. The Dragon Killer introduced himself as Theodor. "Francis. Bloody Hunter." He replied in an equally short tone to the Dragon Killer.

"As far as I can see, most of them are either dead or dying." Francis replied as he looked over the battlefield. Many soldiers had lost their lives fighting. While he could fault their skill, no one could have predicted what happened. Ambushes have a habit of removing skill from the equation. He folded the long handle of his scythe back down, snapped the blade off to use as a curved sword. The battle seemed to winding down. Shortly after, the forces indirectly responsible for the portal opening had managed to seal it with a rather loud and unholy glass shatter noise, but it was sealed and seemingly gone.

He let out a slow breath as his heart rate began to relax. "What do we do now? I do need to collect payment from the captain, assuming he survived this." He was going to demand at least quintuple what he had originally charged. The job was to deal with potential trouble makers, not a demonic invasion.

[Tomia]

Quentin
As the earth shattering scream drew the attention of all in the cavern, Quentin was among those who stood in stunned silenced as the demonic portal shattered to pieces. Then the crowd erupted into cheers as the apocalypse was seemingly averted. The portal was gone, and now the demons were cut off from wherever it was they were coming from and without reinforcements. Now they had a clear chance to turn the tide and stave off extermination.

"Charge! Return to the surface!" Quentin shouted as the troops rallied and stormed back up the tunnels that had been opened by demons. The Knight did not join them however, as he turned to the clearly fatigued Chosen who had been the one to close the portal in the end. Once he approached he placed a hand on the young man's shoulder.

"Are you alright? All mortal kind owes you a great debt. When you are ready we must leave, there's much still to be done on the surface no doubt." While Quentin waited with the recovering Saelaam, Lena had joined the push back to the surface. Together the troops fought their way out of the tunnels and returned to the situation on the surface which was rapidly deteriorating for the demons. The numbers were now rapidly declining and without reinforcements their organization began to fall apart as the remaining forces of the surface races began to regroup and flank and encircle their now surrounded forces. The demons made one last push at the already worn forces who survived the tunnel attack, only to be interrupted by the thunderous stomping of hooves. The Knights of Shotarr who had previously been protecting civilians at their camp had now joined the fight in full force. Over three hundred men on horseback were now charging toward the demon lines and collided with them like high tide upon a sandy beach. The demons panicked and soon they had been entirely wiped out.

Humans, Elves, Beastfolk, and Dwarves alike had suffered terrible casualties that day and yet they had avoided complete disaster. The remaining troops who held their ground on the blood soaked field of Haden Hill let out thunderous cheers for their miraculous survival. As everyone piled out of the tunnels however celebration gave way to work. The bodies of dead soldiers were returned to their respective camps for proper burial, and the wounded who lived were being checked on by healers from all factions and races.

By now Quentin had made his way back up to the surface with Saelaam, and as soon as he was in sight his second in command Sir Ethan approached.

"Commander! Praise Shotarr you survived. These demons... How could this have happened?"

"In seeking the power of the temple, a great evil has foolishly been unleashed upon us." Quentin replied grimly.

"Well, because of you dear Knight that said crisis has been averted no?" Lord Sampson said, approaching with half a dozen Dascian soldiers by his side. "Still there is still the matter of the hammer your friend their currently possesses. It is Dascian property, and it is best if you turn it over."

"On no you don't!" A stout dwarf wielding a war hammer said, Tashar troops gathering behind him. Quentin recognized him as Commander Graystone. "You're not weaseling your way into getting that hammer, especially not when you just almost got us all killed with it!"

Meanwhile the elvish troops were beginning to stir as well, as arguments started to break out all over the field.

Quentin's blood was now at a boil. After all that had happened these people were content to just fall back into old arguments and rivalries.

"HAVE YOU ALL GONE MAD?!"

His voice boomed across the flat and echoing field as eyes suddenly turned towards him.

"We have just faced an ancient horror, one that only an hour ago we had thought was fictional. Soldiers died, elves, men, dwarves and beast folk alike, so that we can all stand here now, and before their corpses even grow cold you have the nerve to renew your fighting as if nothing has happened?" The knight was practically shaking in rage now.

"The hammer belongs to none of you. I am taking it into the custody of the Knights of Shotarr, until we can determine exactly what it is and what it does." He gave a deathly glare at all the commanders before him, daring them to challenge him.

There was silence on the field until Alexius turned to Lord Sampson. "You're wrong, this is far from over."

"Excuse me?" The lord replied, "And what on Eboris could you mean by that?"

"You have not just unleashed demons here, but across the continent. Fights like ours are raging all over, and unfortunately not all of them have gone so well."

"And how exactly do you know this?" General Holland of Dascus asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I am a Keeper of the Glass, by the divine will of Sualdir I have seen it." This seemed to stun the crowd, particularly the humans gathered. A vision by a Keeper was not something to be taken lightly. For Quentin, it made something quite clear. He was a man of humble beginnings, who was as unlikely to be destined for greatest as a chicken was destined to fly across the sky. However now he had a vision of what he must do, a leap of faith that would hopefully not see him fall into despair.

"Then we have only one course of action. From this moment forth I declare the Hammer of Eboris reborn. We shall seek out these demon invaders, and like our ancestors before them cast them out to the hell they have come from. You must all know ask yourself, how do you wish to be remembered? Do you wish it to be written that you turned your back when the world saw its darkest moments? Or will you fight with me, and protect the futures of all races together!"

There was silence for a moment. It wasn't what Quentin had been expecting. He thought he would get roaring applause, or quick enthusiasm but it seemed that the crowd around him was still unsure.

Meanwhile Lord Sampson scoffed, "Who do you think would join you on this fairy tale fanta..."

"I will join you." It was Lena, his oldest friend. "I will fight! For the future of Eboris!" She shouted before raising her blade in the air.

"So will we!" Sir Ethan called out. "For Eboris!" Soon all around Quentin soldiers raised their blades in the air, symbolizing their willingness to join. Across the field the chant could be heard as if one voice in unison.

"For Eboris! For Eboris! For Eboris!"

[Finland SSR]

Tenna

Quentin

Riki Farinhait

---

The elven woman was annoyed, the elven woman was hurt, but despite all that, she tried her best to stave off the demons approaching them both. Even though the blades she threw missed both of the creatures, only making her more frustrated, it had a vital purpose - it kept the demons focused on the elf, and thus unable to thwart Riki drawing with his knife on the ground and casting a chant. As soon as he completed the last syllable of the spell, the necromancer's eyes widened.

There's... a lot more bodies to raise than before... Was the tide of the battle finally turning? A faint sound of hundreds of hooves hitting the ground was starting to echo across the battlefield. So they finally received reinforcements... took them long enough. As many second chances as Riki could bring under his disposal, he could not stave off the demon horde all by himself. The creatures in front of him and Tenna heard the coming sounds as well, turning around, only to suddenly have several zombies leap at them from the bushes and start to rip them apart into pieces. A rather... gruesome sight, but it is what these insults to Datune's natural order deserve.

"...Thanks a lot." Riki muttered - the woman was already far from satisfied, so he figured maybe that could help her calm down. And, in truth, if he were alone there, he couldn't have taken on the approaching demons all by himself... "Let's go. Something big is about to happen."

She's yanked him by his arm before, now it was his turn. With the elven woman in tow, Riki stepped out of the forest and started descending down the hill towards the entrance of the tunnel. With each passing second, more and more littered corpses would start to rise from their rest, pick up their weapons and walk after their savior, the one who granted them a second chance to fight - by the time when the warriors gathered at the entrance of the tunnel came into view, a small army, over two hundred second chances strong, was marching behind him. Though they were not in formation, their feet marched in perfect unison, catching the attention of the soldiers below.

The sight was... far from pleasant to behold. Some of the soldiers could recognize their friends and allies, the same ones whose corpses they had been cradling before, marching among the crowd. Some others were disgusted at how mangled the horde looked - there were zombies lacking limbs, lacking heads, others looking like a bloodied, ripped mess. The fact that there were demons marching alongside humans in the horde would probably leave quite a few on edge as well - although it was also equally confusing. Riki, with Tenna in tow, stopped in front of the party and the knights who had arrived to greet them, saying nothing for a few seconds. He could understand it if the people before him were frightened or tense - a necromancer with a horde in tow was one of the most terrifying sights to behold on Eboris, at least before the demon scourge arrived to shake everything up. And, indeed, the tales of history tell that there is often reason to fear. There's a reason why this art of magic was universally hated, why people called it 'dark magic', even if there was nothing inherently 'dark' or 'evil' about it. With the power of necromancy by your side, it is easy to lose his way.

Riki let go of Tenna's arm, while all the zombies behind him suddenly knelt down, a showcase of respect to the warriors.

"For the future of Eboris." he calmly stated and nodded. "Riki Farinhait, Order of the Fading Butterfly. I kept the demons occupied while you sealed the entrance."

[Northwest Slobovia]

Archeno
Battle of Haden Hill, The Tunnel

Archeno clung to his hat as the wind from the shattering portal threatened to suck it in. He struggled to understand what his own eyes had just seen: a rippling curtain had shattered like thin ice and then blown away like a fog. It's going to make a hell of a story, if I can get anybody to believe it happened!

He congratulated Saelaam as Quentin helped him to his feet, but the Thalari was too exhausted to do little more than acknowledge Archeno's presence. But the Knight's call for a renewed fight? That was something for the fighting men; Archeno tried to clear his head after the hour's events. No, not clear it, I need to organize it, set it down before vanishes like the demon's portal, get the names of the heroes, get it right before making it sing.

He emerged, blinking into the sunset to catch the end of the renewed squabbling, and then the cries of loyalty to the new cause. “And if we had rulers equal to the heroes who fought here, we'd be better off for it”, he muttered to whoever was nearby. They'd be real weaknesses in this new demon-war.

[Lazarian]

"I'm sorry I couldn't help earlier..." Riki's voice called out behind Clive - the young necromancer stood up from his rune, covered in his pitch black cloak. Well, the good thing was that his ally was not dead yet - thought lacking one working leg. After a nod of acknowledgement, Riki turned back towards the battle unfolding before the temple. The demon ranks were finally getting broken and a spearhead of warriors, led by a powerful cavalry charge, punched through and started to make their way towards one of the tunnels at the base of the hill. Either the battle is finally coming to an end... or they're witnessing the foolish death of their last hope. It all depends on whether the spearhead has a way to close the portals below.

"I'm going to stay behind and cover those people's backs." Riki muttered, both to himself and to Clive. Those people were charging blindly, plenty of demons were still left across the hill and the battlefield, someone will need to mop them up or at least prevent them from charging down the tunnel to hit the party in the back. Fortunately, he still had somewhat of a horde left, and now that many of the human warriors left, there were less people slaughtering their own allies without knowing it.

"I suppose you're not really going to be participating in the fight any longer, right? I can get a few of my second chances to carry you into the temple, you might be safer there."

Clive shrugged, brushing himself off. The necromancer was right - he certainly was in poor shape. Blood poured down his sliced fingers, and his wrist burned. He'd taken the time to inspect his leg as Riki's undead were finishing the creature off - it was severely bruised and possibly stress fractured, but he could still walk on it. While there was no way he would be sprinting around the battlefield, he could still be useful.

"Damn blighter almost got me, but I'm not done for yet." he coughed, brushing dust off his coat with his good hand. "I'll stay on my own two feet, if you don't mind. It's unlikely I'll be able to protect you further. And quite frankly, even if I could, I wouldn't."

Riki looked displeased. Before he could reply, Clive interjected. Quite rudely, as he did.

"Oh, don't look at me like that." Clive scoffed, as he picked his mace off the ground with his good hand. "I'm no match for these demons, and I've got no intention of dying here today. Eboris has got plenty of people willing to die for it, such as yourself. You know, for a necromancer, you're not so bad."

He turned, and started walking away from the battlefield. Quickly, so Riki would be hard-pressed to confront him about it. After all, he had enough trouble pushing the voices in his own head down - and he was afraid that once Riki's was added to the mix, he wouldn't be able to. This was his one opportunity to make up for the suffering he'd caused, a chance to join something noble and brave, and perhaps be more than a mere fisherman or jaded loner. But it was also a death trap, and the former Street Crawler had one precept: his life came first.

"Good luck out there, partner." he called out, giving Riki a final wave as he painfully strode away. Gods, that hurt.

---

Ten Minutes Later

---

It'd been rough going, with his bum leg and all, but he'd done it. He'd escaped from the battlefield, living another day. Well, almost. He'd circled far around the hill, creeping through the woods and towards the Dascian camp. There would be the easiest to blend in, honestly. The Athelan pennant he had worn earlier was long gone, thrown into the woods as yet another fake identity into the mud. As a natural-born Dascian, it'd be easy to sneak into the camp and blend in. There were likely plenty of medics stationed back in the long baggage train, as well as all sorts of vendors and craftsmen. Plenty of opportunities were strewn in the wake of an army, after all. It was just over the ridge, as far as he could tell. Pretty unlikely there'd even be a perimeter guard, with all the chaos. Just step in, grab some supplies, and hit the road.

Inwardly, he cursed himself for being a coward. His one chance to redeem himself, and he'd tossed it to the hounds. Well, it was too late now. He'd made up his mind. Besides, even if he had rejoined the fight and died in some foolish attempt at cleaning his bloodsoaked hands, he'd be dead, and it wouldn't matter anyways. Probably end up as one of Riki's rotting soldiers. With a surge of effort, he strode over the crest of the hill, to see the -

- burning wreckage of the Dascian camp. Or what was left of it, anyways. A contingent of demons had clearly split from the main force to attack the weak and vulnerable camps. Wagons, tents, and carts were all set ablaze, as the horrid creatures scurried and strode among the camp. Screams and smoke filled the air, giving it a hellish atmosphere. Clive gritted his teeth. Damn it. So much for the supply stop.

This was a real damn shame, though. The soldiers out there at least knew what they were in for, to some extent. Every man who went to battle was aware to some degree of the danger that he faced. The possibility of the end. But the camp was filled with noncombatants and merchants, humble craftsmen and even farmers peddling their wares to the lords. These were his brothers and sisters of Dascus. Internally, his conscience and instinct of self-preservation fought fiercely, tooth and nail. It would be rotten to simply abandon them to their fate. Even for him.

Something at the bottom of the hill caught his eye. It was a woman, with her back to a blazing cart. She was beautiful. Dressed in a finery clearly out of sorts for a battlefield. Robes and silken garments. Most likely a healing mage of some sort. Her blonde locks were matted with blood, and she screamed in horror. A small group of demons had surrounded her - four or five of them. They were disgusting. Looked like a bunch of fuckin' barbarians, the uncivilized folks from the outskirts of Dascian lands, with their spiked armor and rotting teeth.

She was a mage, though, and -

And it didn't matter. Just as he didn't have the choice or opportunity to be born with magic in the blood...she didn't either. And while he had failed to save Alice, his beloved...it wasn't too late to save this one. These civilians didn't deserve to die. Riki had a point. If he didn't do something, who the hell would?

"Hey, you louts! Eat shit and die!" he howled from the top of the hill, before launching a bolt from his crossbow at the small group. It rammed into the toothy maw of the closest (and unluckiest) of the group, pinning it to the cart by the skull. The remaining demons stared up at him with murderous intent in their eyes, blood dripping down their fangs.

"You've really done it now, Clive." he muttered to himself, bracing himself for what would come. One good wrist and one good leg was what he had to work with.

But it'd have to do.

[Zarkenis Ultima]

Saelaam of Trelia
Haden Hill

---

---

---

The priest of Oadot breathed heavily as the adrenaline he felt before ceased coursing through his body. His arms and the rest of his body shook as a frigid sensation coursed through his back, his head felt like it couldn't stay up and his vision was dark and blurry, yet through some miraculous feat of willpower he managed to keep himself awake and alert. After all, this was far from the first time he had experienced arcane fatigue, but the condition was no less pleasant now than it had been the first time.

Suddenly, after several moments of blessed silence, the forces within the tunnel broke into loud cheers and thunderous applause, celebrating the closure of the dark portal. Normally he would have been quick to join the soldiers in their rejoicing, but in his current state, the noise felt like needless going through his head combined with a loud pounding coming from within his skull. Dropping the silver hammer for a moment, he took his hands to his temples, trying to shut out the noise with little success. It was only until Quentin rallied the men and sent them charging back to the surface that he was able to relax, little by little, lowering his hand and letting out a sigh of relief.

A hand was placed on his shoulders, and the familiar voice of the Knight of Shotarr spoke to him, with words of concern, of gratitude and of duty, all things he understood well. He nodded while continuing to look at the ground. "I-" He paused briefly. With the adrenaline gone, his jaw felt incredibly sore. I'll have to put up with it. "I'm fine, Sir Raeden. I... I just need a bit longer."

After a few moments spent kneeling with his eyes closed and resting, Saelaam took a deep breath and shakily stood up, grabbing the knight's hand when it was offered and using it to support himself. It took him a second to feel his footing was stable, but once he did, he nodded at Quentin, who began leading the way out of the tunnels. From the corner of his eye, the cleric caught the storyteller he had tended to earlier standing nearby. The man congratulated him on his deed, but he hardly felt like he deserved all the credit for their victory here, so rather than say anything back, he simply nodded and continued to trail after Quentin.

As the two emerged from the tunnels, the winged priest was met with a sight that inspired relief, but little joy. The warriors on the surface were no longer fighting, instead carrying bodies and helping set up medical tents for those who were still alive despite their wounds. The demons had been vanquished, but there was no time to celebrate, not when so many still dangled from a thread above the abode of Chtholes.

Suddenly a man, another Knight of Shotarr judging by his armor, approached Quentin, addressing him as a superior. A brief conversation ensued, in which Lord Sampson, the foolish noble that had unleashed this hell on Earth, claimed ownership of the silver hammer. This, and the squabbling that ensued, made Saelaam's blood boil. Hundreds lay dead because of their greed and they still continue this childish dispute?!

But it seemed he wasn't the only one who felt this way. Quentin's thundering voice silenced all the nobles and generals nearby, chastising them and refusing to turn the hammer over to any of them. The cleric's grip on the relic tightened as he heard these words - he may not have been a warrior, but he had as much of a duty to protect it as any of them.

Shortly afterwards a man stepped forth, claiming to be a Keeper of the Glass who had visions of this exact scenario happening all throughout Eboris. It was a disheartening prospect - the end times had really fallen upon the world. And yet, rather than show any sort of dismay, Quentin met this revelation with renewed valor, declaring the Hammer of Eboris reformed. Despite the nobles' protests, the hosts gathered around the Knight of Shotarr soon spoke up in approval, and before long a thundering chant filled the air.

It was at this moment that Saelaam approached the Knight Commander once more. "I will join you in your fight as well. I may not be a warrior, but... I cannot just stand by as Eboris is consumed. Oadot teaches us to be strong in the face of evil and to protect the world from the darkness - we must now heed her call." He stated, before pausing briefly. "...But first, I have many duties to attend to. Here is the hammer, I trust you to keep it safe from greedy hands." He said as he handed Quentin the relic found in the depths of the Haden Hill temple, while sparing a dirty look at the Dascian entourage.

With that done, the young man prepared to head back to the campsite where his fellow Chosen were undoubtedly tending to the wounded of all factions, protected by the Knights of Shotarr. Before he was able to do so, however, a man showed up in the company of one of the elves he had aided before, and behind him stood over a hundred walking corpses. Even as the undead knelt and the man introduced himself as an ally, Saelaam was utterly disgusted by the necromantic display. Per Oadot's teachings, it was an affront to life, and it took a lot of self-control for him to avoid using his prayers to attack the undead, futile as it would have been with so many of them around.

Instead, the cleric hastily left the place. He would've flown, had he not felt too exhausted for it - as he was right now, all he could do was walk away. After all, the necromancer's presence was a powerful reminder of why he had to work hard to save as many lives as possible.

[Theyra]

Ivaran Miaris

"They did it", he thought as he watched the portal shatter into pieces like it was glass. It was quite the sight of watching the portal fall apart and now that the portal that the demons were pouring out of was gone. Their reinforcements cut off and they can kill the rest. He heard a call to charge and return to the surface. No doubt to finally end this nightmare and he had joined them. Helping to cut down what demons had remained and when it was over. Ivaran joined in on the cheers and was glad that the nightmare is over but, joy turned to wonder as he thought, what now? The demons are dead and what about that relic that was almost fought over. He surveyed the bloody field and spotted what looked like the hammer that shattered the portal being held by the Thalari that helped to end this. A Knight of Shotarr was with him and then A group that looked like Dascian troops approached them. "That can't be good", he said under his breath and walked to the group.

Enough blood has been spilled today, and he was not looking fondly at another fight. As he walked towards them, more people had approached the Thalari and the Knight and an argument started over the hammer until the Knight of Shotarr gave a mighty shout to all of them. At that point, Ivaran stopped in his tracks and choose to listen from afar.

"What! He exclaimed as he was shocked at the news that this was not an isolated incident but demon invasions were happening all over. Plus, the one that delivered the news was the same mage that he had fought with. He is a Keeper of the Glass? Ivaran was stunned again, he thought the Keepers of Glass were just a legend and he just fought with one. He would have been skeptical about the claim but, that would explain why he knew how to end this battle and just hours before demons were considered a myth. Today was a day of revelation and when the Knight of Shotarr declared that Hammer of Eboris to be reborn. After everything that happened today and the knowledge that demons are invading the world. It was an easy choice for Ivaran and he held his glaive up high. "I will join you, for Eboris!

[Tomia]

Quentin
As men and women shouted around him, the knight saw a pack of zombies and visibly tensed up for a moment. Quentin wasn't as fanatical as the Enchanters or the Guardians could be, but he was still a bit uneasy around mages. He wasn't necessarily prejudice and didn't think all mages were evil, but the Knight of Shotarr had never liked how unpredictable magic was. One second someone could look perfectly normal and the next they could be shooting out a fire storm from their finger tips and burn down a whole village. Necromancy in particular was something that just seemed unnatural. It was clear that soldiers around him were just as bothered if not more as Riki approached with his horde behind and addressed Quentin.

"Well, I appreciate that friend. I have to say, today has been a lot of firsts for me. A horde of undead is certainly one of those firsts. I've met necromancers before, but none that ever used their powers like you do. Did you train in the Consortium?"

Then Saeleem turned to him and placed the hammer in his custody. What was once shining with magical energy now sat as an ordinary hammer. He wished the Chosen well as he headed off back to his camp and turned to the crowd. "Those who are joining me should return to their camps and pack. We are leaving in three hours." He would have his army no doubt, but where were they to go? Quentin had a place in mind, one that would provide them the protection they needed, presuming the demons didn't get there first.

Brialya
With the behemoth dealt with, Brialya found herself staying towards the back of the group as they charged out of the tunnel. She was much more useful as a distance fighting and she only had a few arrows left. Once they had fought their way outside, she heard Quentin's speech and while she found it somewhat melodramatic she realized this was now the man in charge. She needed to talk to him about what she had learned, even if it wasn't connected to the demons, something foul was clearly afoot that they would need to deal with. However there was a huge crowd around Quentin and his attention was clearly divided at the moment. So instead, she sought out the beastfolk that had come to her aid.

"Thanks for the assist back there." Brialya said to Neffy with a smile. "That was some impressive fighting you did back there. I'm Brialya, its good to meet you." She said offering her hand, forgetting that she was till wearing the armor of an Athelan soldier, which probably gave off a different impression than she intended.

[Galnius]

Tenna

Quentin

Riki Farinhait

---

The elven woman was annoyed, the elven woman was hurt, but despite all that, she tried her best to stave off the demons approaching them both. Even though the blades she threw missed both of the creatures, only making her more frustrated, it had a vital purpose - it kept the demons focused on the elf, and thus unable to thwart Riki drawing with his knife on the ground and casting a chant. As soon as he completed the last syllable of the spell, the necromancer's eyes widened.

There's... a lot more bodies to raise than before... Was the tide of the battle finally turning? A faint sound of hundreds of hooves hitting the ground was starting to echo across the battlefield. So they finally received reinforcements... took them long enough. As many second chances as Riki could bring under his disposal, he could not stave off the demon horde all by himself. The creatures in front of him and Tenna heard the coming sounds as well, turning around, only to suddenly have several zombies leap at them from the bushes and start to rip them apart into pieces. A rather... gruesome sight, but it is what these insults to Datune's natural order deserve.

"...Thanks a lot." Riki muttered - the woman was already far from satisfied, so he figured maybe that could help her calm down. And, in truth, if he were alone there, he couldn't have taken on the approaching demons all by himself... "Let's go. Something big is about to happen."

She's yanked him by his arm before, now it was his turn. With the elven woman in tow, Riki stepped out of the forest and started descending down the hill towards the entrance of the tunnel. With each passing second, more and more littered corpses would start to rise from their rest, pick up their weapons and walk after their savior, the one who granted them a second chance to fight - by the time when the warriors gathered at the entrance of the tunnel came into view, a small army, over two hundred second chances strong, was marching behind him. Though they were not in formation, their feet marched in perfect unison, catching the attention of the soldiers below.

The sight was... far from pleasant to behold. Some of the soldiers could recognize their friends and allies, the same ones whose corpses they had been cradling before, marching among the crowd. Some others were disgusted at how mangled the horde looked - there were zombies lacking limbs, lacking heads, others looking like a bloodied, ripped mess. The fact that there were demons marching alongside humans in the horde would probably leave quite a few on edge as well - although it was also equally confusing. Riki, with Tenna in tow, stopped in front of the party and the knights who had arrived to greet them, saying nothing for a few seconds. He could understand it if the people before him were frightened or tense - a necromancer with a horde in tow was one of the most terrifying sights to behold on Eboris, at least before the demon scourge arrived to shake everything up. And, indeed, the tales of history tell that there is often reason to fear. There's a reason why this art of magic was universally hated, why people called it 'dark magic', even if there was nothing inherently 'dark' or 'evil' about it. With the power of necromancy by your side, it is easy to lose his way.

Riki let go of Tenna's arm, while all the zombies behind him suddenly knelt down, a showcase of respect to the warriors.

"For the future of Eboris." he calmly stated and nodded. "Riki Farinhait, Order of the Fading Butterfly. I kept the demons occupied while you sealed the entrance."

As Tenna prepared to be ripped to shreds (but hopefully rip the offending creatures to shreds with her), the unexpected happened. The dead rushed out from the bushes in numbers that made the demon horde look insignificant. The ripped into the demons with weapons and their bare hands, shaking the elf to her core. If was horrifying. How did zombies even get here?

Shocked into numbness, Tenna didn't realize what Riki was saying until he grabbed her and rushed them around. As they moved past the zombie horde, she struggled to register that they weren't attacking. In her stunned state the obvious didn't occur to her as to why.

All of those hidden answers revealed themselves when Riki and Tenna arrived at the temple. The elf was jolted from her stupor ans pulled out of his grip in disgust, staring at him in fear and disdain. The one she saved was a necromancer?! Perhaps she should've thrown him to the demons, or drop him from the tree. Riki seemed so nonchalant about it to.

Well, Tenna wasn't having it. The elf once again drew her blades, pointing not-so-subtly at the necromancer.

[Finland SSR]

Francis

Saelaam of Trelia
Haden Hill

Quentin

Tenna

Riki Farinhait

---

Theo did not try to stand out from the crowd or otherwise get anyone's attention - he wasn't the type of man to do so. Once the rest of the party raised their weapons and chanted their allegiance to the Hammer of Eboris and the continent which it protects, the stoic Dragon Killer did the same, and then turned his attention towards the same sight which many of his peers were turning towards - the boy, the girl and the army of zombies behind them both. At the same time, with one ear, he was listening to Francis ask on what their plan was going to be now - the hunter was here on a mercenary contract and the way he spoke sounded like he didn't think he belonged here.

"When you figure out whether your captain's still out there, maybe you'll be interested in another contract?" Theo replied, resting his shield on the ground. "I'm sure Sir Quentin wouldn't say no to a hunter as skilled as you in our ranks - and his campaign is supported by warriors across the entire continent already, I'm sure we could gather you all the payment you need and more."

Riki observed everyone's reactions, quickly catching that they were... mixed. A flush of worry ran down his spine that he may have been too hasty. Far too hasty. No matter what his intentions may be inside his heart, the rest of Eboris will continue to view him with suspicion no matter what, and marching down with an army of zombies would only confirm them. Some of the soldiers were wincing, some, like a winged Thalari priest among their ranks, were departing entirely, seemingly out of disgust at the sight. Thankfully, at least the person who seemed to be the leader did not dismiss him entirely - he recognized Riki's effort, called him a 'friend' and seemed open to him overall.

"That's-"

Before Riki could respond to Quentin's question, however, his ears suddenly caught the sound of a knife slashing across the air, and his body, catching the glimmer of a blade heading his way, immediately jolted to the side. It was the Elven woman, aiming her weapon straight at his face, the tip of the blade locked in front of his nose. Two furious eyes bore straight into him, and even though she spoke no word - Riki was starting to realize that she was likely unable to speak at all - the necromancer understood her intentions immediately and clearly. Despite having just saved her from demons seeking to rip her apart limb by limb... she declared him to be an enemy regardless. Just because of the art of magic he was practicing.

"Hala izan." Riki muttered, the incantation cancelling his spell instantly. All the undead behind him collapsed to the floor in unison, returning to their eternal rest, as, according to everyone but him, the Gods intended. The necromancer covered himself with his pitch black cloak, his eyes glaring to the floor. The thought crossed his mind to simply give up and leave. He hasn't received a warm welcome by any means and it was unlikely to change, so is it really worth it to keep pushing on regardless? When Riki tried explaining himself to Clive, the man couldn't even get the necromancer's logic - he had been imprisoned and pushed around by the people he was trying to defend, they weren't going to respond in kind, they could fight off against the demons all by themselves and, even if they could not, he would only be better for it - so maybe the rogue was actually right?

And yet... As crazy and unbelievable as it sounds, Riki felt an obligation to continue. It might have been a thankless act, but, just like he told Clive - if nobody took up on a job like that, then the job would simply not be done. And it wasn't even thankless, either! For every Tenna and for every Saelaam, there was a Clive, or a Quentin, who knew to look past their first instinct and recognized that he was just here to help.

After all, like the Goddess says, doesn't everyone deserve a second chance?

"No, I did not train in the Consortium - I'm from Tashar, not Dascus," Riki calmly answered the leader's question, despite the Elven woman's knife still pointed at his face. "And... I can tell that seeing me here is a lot to take in, especially when I arrived with an entire army behind me. But, I can swear on my life that I don't mean no harm to you. I want to save Eboris just as much as every single one of you do."

[Zarkenis Ultima]

Neferis Lahari
Haden Hill

---

---

Her attack paid off, and soon the last of the behemoths was no more, its throat - if it could even be called that - split open by Archeno's blade. With a sigh of relief, the wolf Thalari walked over to the fallen demon and circled around it to retrieve Mala'kai, her hammer. She continued to hold it to her side, as even if the demons in the tunnels had been routed, there were plenty outside who would undoubtedly attack as soon as they tried to abandon the underground. Even if the portal was broken, they were not out of danger yet.

Soon Quentin called for a charge back out of the tunnels, and while she followed, Neferis decided to stick to the back of the group and pick off any demons missed by the front line that threatened the frailer assets at the back. Spearheading two charges was more than enough for a day, and even though she had managed to slay scores of demons by herself on that fateful morning, it was not without cost. Her strength was waning, her vitality, her energy, and that was without mentioning the wounds she had sustained and the blood she had lost. To throw herself at the demon hordes yet again would've been irresponsible of her, there was no use in endangering her life when victory was just within reach.

Before long, reinforcements from the Knights of Shotarr arrived, and the last of the demonic army was destroyed. The combined forces of Eboris hardly had any time to celebrate victory, however, when the heads of the Dascian, Tasharen and Athelaian armies began squabbling once more over the ownership of the relic at the temple. She scowled in disgust at their behavior, considering them little more than overgrown children with far too much power in their hands, especially Lord Sampson - it made her feel rather conflicted that she had thought to become an ally of his before the fight.

But they were soon silenced, and their childish words were replaced by the thundering cries of a holy order reborn, of hundreds of noble souls who sought only to protect Eboris from the invasion of the abyss. Roused by the speech made by the Knight of Shotarr, Neferis raised her hammer high, joining the warrior chant.

Not long after, she was approached by the Athelaian from before, the same one she'd assisted by throwing her hammer at a giant demon's face. She raised an eyebrow at the elven woman's kind words, but took her offer nonetheless. "It's rare for me to receive praise from one of your kind, elf." The she-wolf spoke bluntly. "But I appreciate it. My name is Neferis, and the feeling is mutual." She said, giving her new acquaintance a firm handshake before pulling her hand away. "Do you intend to join that man on his... crusade?"

[Tomia]

Brialya
Brialya noticed Neferis' suspicion, especially what was implied by her words. "Excuse my appearance. I'm not actually one of those stuck up Athelans. I just needed to dress like them in order to infiltrate their camp." Brialya insured her as they shook hands. She then thought for a moment as she was asked if she would join the Knight on his sudden crusade.

"Well I'll admit, I never thought much about the tales of demons and the Hammer. I always thought it was just a tale for children. Now that I know there's true to it though..." The elf found herself torn. She had a mission she needed to complete, and she didn't want to be restricted by loyalty to this new organization in achieving it. Still, this fight ahead of them was clearly bigger than anything else and if Purity really had something to do with the demons, the Hammer might prove to be her best chance at finding him.

"I think I will yes. This fight seems too important for me to turn my back. Besides, I can't help but imagine what kind of story this will back. So how about you, will you join?"

Quentin
The Knight was surprised to hear that Riki was from Tashar. He had never heard of a necromancer from Tashar before, that sort of magic was strictly forbidden within the Enchanter's Order. The path to becoming one could not have been easy. Suddenly an elf was holding a knife at the necromancer, who did his best to assure that he was on their side.

"I believe your words young mage." Quentin said calmly. "I'll admit I am not terribly comfortable with your craft, but this is far from the time to focus on our differences. If you want to help save this world, than that is more than good enough for me."

He then turned to the knife wielding elf. "I understand your fear of necromancy, but this is no time to fight among ourselves. No one else should die on this field."

[Northwest Slobovia]

"You have not just unleashed demons here, but across the continent. Fights like ours are raging all over, and unfortunately not all of them have gone so well."
[...]
"I am a Keeper of the Glass, by the divine will of Sualdir I have seen it."

Archeno had pressed his way to the center of the gathering as the cheering started. What the Keeper said worried him, frightened him. Professional concerns lurked in the corners of his mind as well: telling a story that is a drop in a thunderstorm is different than telling a story of the first drop of rain in the desert. But the greater implications were not to be set aside.

He took off his hat and held it to his chest as a matter of respect as he cautiously approached the Keeper. “I am Archeno of Kuria, in Tashar. May I ask you about what you have seen?”

Alexius gave him a thoughtful look. “You may, but I may not have the answer you seek. I see much, but not all, and not by my will alone.”

With a slow nod of acceptance, Archeno began. “You said 'other battles like this one'. Other portals too?”

“I saw demons emerging from the ground in distant places. That there may be other entrances to the surface world is a reasonable conclusion, but not a certain one.”

Archeno thought that over, absent-mindedly making funny expressions while he considered. “And the entrances are still open?”

“There were victories and slaughters, but I said I see much, but not all.”

Archeno recoiled as if he'd be slapped. “I-I-I don't mean--” He snapped his mouth shut. If the man thought him a fool, it was too late to change that. His next questions faded away: they probably lacked answers. Instead, he simply said, “I understand.”

He seemed lost in thought for a while, and when he blinked and glanced around him, he realized a crowd had gathered around them. Some faces he recognized: people he'd fought beside. Others were new. And the zombies were inexplicable. He groped for something intelligent to say.

He turned to the Knight of Shotarr: “I will help as well, though my greatest talents lie not on the battlefield, but on the stage, in the tavern, and on the town square.” With a nod to Alexius, he went on, “We'll need more heroes, more willing people. They must know victory is possible. I can help convince them of that.”

[Galnius]

Tenna

Quentin
The Knight was surprised to hear that Riki was from Tashar. He had never heard of a necromancer from Tashar before, that sort of magic was strictly forbidden within the Enchanter's Order. The path to becoming one could not have been easy. Suddenly an elf was holding a knife at the necromancer, who did his best to assure that he was on their side.

"I believe your words young mage." Quentin said calmly. "I'll admit I am not terribly comfortable with your craft, but this is far from the time to focus on our differences. If you want to help save this world, than that is more than good enough for me."

He then turned to the knife wielding elf. "I understand your fear of necromancy, but this is no time to fight among ourselves. No one else should die on this field."

Even after the words of the ever-optimistic knight the silver haired elf still didn't want to risk the necromancer having free reign. However, she still slowly, tensely lowered her blades. Eventually she gave in, storing them quickly with a huff. However, she dug through her many pockets until she found her chalk.

Walking to the nearest surface, she started writing in a crude, messy script. Want the knife. Won't keep it. Think he needs it for the magic. Want to be safe. I'll give it back when he needs it. Having finished with what she felt was a good compromise, she approached Riki, a hand outstreched. Her eyes were still narrowed in distust, and she was fully ready to plunge a blade into his stomach if he seemed like he was trying something.

[Ihsalihna]

Sayyida ul h'Ehlam
In a Dark Place

---

Sayyida slowly opened her eyes, looking down sadly from the shadows where she was sitting, hidden, her arms wrapped around her knees.

She wasn't a warrior. When the great towering engines of daemonic wrath had strode forth from the yawning black abyss, she knew she'd be of little help. The rest of the warriors assembled by chance and strategy had charged forth, despite the danger, despite the odds - they had rallied and fought together, and came out victorious. It had been... amazing to watch.

She wasn't a warrior. She was a merchant woman. She wasn't a soldier. She was an explorer, a scholar... She had scrambled up the wall of the tunnel and perched up above, nice and safe. From Sayyida's hands and come a few more spells, simple illusions and traps to keep any demons from attacking them from behind. But she'd saved one for herself, hiding above the battle... what would she have done if they had begun to lose? If they had fallen in the fight?

When the portal was destroyed, when the warriors emerged back out of the tunnel, Sayyida remained hidden. Her people were known for their honour and stubborn pride, their bravery... the only pride she now displayed was staying out of sight, forgotten, to hide her growing shame.

The woman, not for the first time, let out a shaking sigh and looked down at her hands, filled with doubt and uncertainty. The gods had directed her here, somehow, they she knew. But she never knew how this all was supposed to work. What had she contributed to the victory here? What was her place in all this? She had done what she had always done when faced with a challenge she could not face. She'd ran. Here she was, hiding.

In the shadows of the rocks around her she slipped a waterskin from her silken robes and lowered her veil to drink silently, suddenly parched with thirst. The water was warm and tasted of old leather, but she gave thanks for it anyway. In all things she saw the little lining of silver... always her spirits were high, her faith unwavering. At least that's how she made sure it looked on the outside.

After a while she slowly and carefully climbed down from the tunnel wall and slipped unseen through the wandering fields of slaughter, skirting the circle of assembled heroes. She didn't quite feel like she had a place among them. But she herself had told the others - there was no running from this. Unconsciously fixing her veil, she watched the knights and mages, soldiers and adventurers, all cheering. Ancient war had been revived. Old resolves had been unearthed. Maybe her obsessions with the past, with strangeness and mystery could aid them, but...

Sayyida knelt down slowly, and murmured a soft prayer in her tongue. Her hand passed across the pale face of a young, unblinking man, who looked up at the sky as if frozen in wonder and disbelief. Suddenly she missed her homeland and family terribly.

[Finland SSR]

Quentin

Tenna

Riki Farinhait

---

Despite all the distrust he had been receiving no matter how much he professed that he was on their side, the leader of the party was one of the few who was willing to accept him. After listening to the knight's assurances that he believes in Riki, the necromancer responded with a nod and a genuine smile.

"It's more than good enough for me, too." he replied. Unfortunately, the knight was only one man, and while he might have held trust in Riki, the elven woman still not. While she was no longer hostile enough to outright threaten to stab him, she continued to express this hostility in different ways - for example, using a piece of chalk to write on the bark of a nearby tree, stating that she wants Riki's knife for safekeeping. Again with the knife...

So she really is mute, just like I guessed. That would explain plenty of her mannerisms from earlier. Was he really going to concede and give up his only method of fighting for this woman to hold, though?.. Much like she could not trust his intentions, he couldn't exactly trust hers, not when she pulled a knife on him pretty much out of nowhere and kept up this hostility even after Riki tried to explain himself. Was he going to maintain this feedback loop of lacking trust or try to get out of it somehow? Well...

Riki reached into underneath his cloak and pulled out his knife, holding it up by the tip and pointing the handle towards the elf to not give any idea that he might be trying to stab anyone. He couldn't even stab anyone with it, but it's not like anyone else here would know that it's not sharp enough for that... The blade of the knife was ornate and complex, decorated with images of Datune, butterflies, and images from the long history of the Order, while the jagged edge was composed of a line of skulls, their jawbones sticking out to compose the jagged bumps.

"Don't bother trying to stab people with it, the edge is not sharp enough for it to be used as a weapon." the necromancer stated nonchalantly. "You're going to have to stick close to me, then - this is the key to anything I'm able to do. Mind writing me our your name since we're at it?"

[Tomia]

Lena
"For the last time Quentin, I'm fine."

"Lena you look exhausted, clearly using your magic during the day time drained you."

The Enchanter ignored the Knight's concerned look as she went about setting up a tent for the coming night. Along with the near a thousand people that Quentin had managed to rally to his cause, Lena had been traveling for a few hours until the coming of night necessitated that rest. They came about a clearing between a forest and a large stream and decided it was a good place to stop. It wasn't exactly secure, but with the potential of demon hordes running around, security wasn't easy to come by.

"I don't have time to rest. We need to set up tents, especially for the wounded, as well as make fires and collect drinking water, not to mention posting sentries to keep watch. Besides, the moon shall come soon, my energy will be restored then."

Quentin had a unsatisfied look on his face, "Fine, if you want to work yourself to death..." He stopped himself before sighing. "I'm sorry, it's just... I'm out of my depth here. I shouldn't take it out on you."

Lena finally turned to look at him. She did in fact looked drained of energy, but she managed a sympathetic look. "I know Wolf. No one expected what happened today." She said softly while using Quentin's nickname. "But now this is our reality, and we'll do what it takes to survive."

The knight nodded grimly, "Well, I need to go speak with Ethan about setting up a watch." With he that headed off into the heart of the camp which was starting to take shape. Fires were being lit and cots were rolled out. Meanwhile Lena suddenly started to feel dizzy, and stumbled forward. She fell onto her tent which strained from her wait before balancing herself and forcing her body to the floor. It was clear the effects of the strain of battle was becoming too much for her to bear.

Quentin
As he approached the center of the open field he saw a crowd gathering and heard loud shouting from all sides. He pushed through the crowd, only to see a mage and a Guardian fighting head to head. Small fire balls flying as the Guardian dodged and tried to get close enough to strike.

The Knight of Shotarr pushed his way through the crowd, however it was thick with people and unyielding. He worried this would soon turn to an all out brawl.

"Stop this!" He shouted, though he wasn't sure the fighting men heard him given the roaring crowd around him.

Brialya
Meanwhile the formerly undercover member of the faithful was on the other side of the make shift camp, far away from the riotous fighting. She had sought out the stream right as they arrived and found herself a covered area where she could bathe in private. After that she changed into a simple shirt and black leggings. On top of them she wore blue robes with white and sliver stripes all the sleeves that followed up to the hood. She was glad to out of that awful Athelan uniform. Simply wearing it made her stomach churn. Once she had washed and changed clothes the elven archer went about setting up shop for the night. She didn't have a tent so she simply laid down her cot by a fire and sat looking up at the sky as the sun began to set.

Alexius
The Keeper had already laid down his cot, and now had a small crowd surrounding him by the edges of the camp. His revelation of the demons and his role as a Keeper of the Glass made more than a few soldiers very curious about him. These soldiers gathered around, a fascinating look on their faces as Alexius described some of his more intense dreams.

"Once I dreamed I stood in the bowels of a mighty hurricane. A storm large enough to send whole villages to depths. The village it fell over was empty in my vision, thus it was my sacred duty to make sure they evacuated. Only I was left when the storm hit, water fell all around me yet I stood my ground..."

[Galnius]

Tenna

Quentin

Tenna

Riki Farinhait

---

Despite all the distrust he had been receiving no matter how much he professed that he was on their side, the leader of the party was one of the few who was willing to accept him. After listening to the knight's assurances that he believes in Riki, the necromancer responded with a nod and a genuine smile.

"It's more than good enough for me, too." he replied. Unfortunately, the knight was only one man, and while he might have held trust in Riki, the elven woman still not. While she was no longer hostile enough to outright threaten to stab him, she continued to express this hostility in different ways - for example, using a piece of chalk to write on the bark of a nearby tree, stating that she wants Riki's knife for safekeeping. Again with the knife...

So she really is mute, just like I guessed. That would explain plenty of her mannerisms from earlier. Was he really going to concede and give up his only method of fighting for this woman to hold, though?.. Much like she could not trust his intentions, he couldn't exactly trust hers, not when she pulled a knife on him pretty much out of nowhere and kept up this hostility even after Riki tried to explain himself. Was he going to maintain this feedback loop of lacking trust or try to get out of it somehow? Well...

Riki reached into underneath his cloak and pulled out his knife, holding it up by the tip and pointing the handle towards the elf to not give any idea that he might be trying to stab anyone. He couldn't even stab anyone with it, but it's not like anyone else here would know that it's not sharp enough for that... The blade of the knife was ornate and complex, decorated with images of Datune, butterflies, and images from the long history of the Order, while the jagged edge was composed of a line of skulls, their jawbones sticking out to compose the jagged bumps.

"Don't bother trying to stab people with it, the edge is not sharp enough for it to be used as a weapon." the necromancer stated nonchalantly. "You're going to have to stick close to me, then - this is the key to anything I'm able to do. Mind writing me our your name since we're at it?"

Tenna finally relaxed as the knife was not only handed to her, but was also confirmed to be required in his rituals. Perhaps it was paranoia or fear, but one necromancer without the ability to do anything was far more easy to trust than one who could act at any moment. It was due to this that the elf obliged the human's request. My name is Tenna she scrawled out, after once again pulling out her chalk. Satisfied, she reached out a friendly hand to shake. The elf knew that, for now, the threat was gone. The first chance to relax in days made her a bit more friendly than she normally would be. However, it was only a bit, as should the human except she planned on pulling him into a trip. There was no malice intended, but it was something he deserved for the fall earlier.

---

Tenna at the campfire
The encampment Tenna found herself at was rowdy, quite how she liked it. Fires were everywhere, and it seemed like a lot of people were releasing stresses through drinking, music, and general antics. The silver haired elf had made sure to stay close to Riki as he asked. That is, if you count dragging him along staying close. The recent demon attacks seemed to put the growing war on a hiatus, and that was all well and good. There was talks of the Hammer of Eboris reforming, but Tenna paid little attention to that. If she could make money and continue her own personal mission then she cared little for the rest of the world.

However, in times like these where one survived a near death experience not once, not twice, but 3 times and got at most a sore arm and a few scratches could put anyone into a partying mood. The knife obsessed woman spotted the other elf she had helped previously laying a cot near one of the many fires. Now that just won't do Tenna thought. Music filled the air and a momentary peace had seemed to fill this specific camp.No one was going to sleep at sunset on her watch. Not when the peace was so fragile.

Tenna approached Riki from behind, not even bothering to hide the impish glint in her eye. Grabbing him quickly, she pulled him over to Brialya. The two wallflowers were going to dance with her, and that was that.

[Zarkenis Ultima]

Saelaam of Trelia
Haden Hill

---

It was not a short walk to the place where the Holy Orders of the Pantheon present at the battle had set their camps up, especially not for a man worn out after aiding in the battle against the forces of the abyss, but eventually he saw the golden axe flags flying in the distance, and shortly afterwards he spotted a cluster of tents with the symbol of the full moon adorning them. Breathing a sigh of relief, Saelaam slowed his steps and allowed himself to catch his breath as he approached. It wasn't long until those outside the tents noticed him approaching, with many of the men and women wearing the white robes of the Chosen waving at smiling at him. They were his family after all, or at least most of them, his brothers and sisters of the grand sanctuary at Trelia. He felt a deep sense of comfort and relief as he approached, a relaxed smile appearing on his face.

As he arrived at the smaller tent cluster on the side of the sprawling knight encampment, a young woman only a couple years older than him stepped out of a nearby pavilion. She had raven black hair worn in a long braid, piercing blue eyes and a gentle face which smiled brightly as soon as she spotted him.

"Saelaam!" The woman happily called out, quickly walking up to the winged cleric and pulling him into a warm, tender hug. She didn't seem to care about the dirt and mud covering various parts of his robe. "I'm glad to see you safe and sound!" She told him, and he returned the affection shown, slipping his arms around the woman's back and embracing her for a few moment before pulling away.

"Thanks, Remilia." Saelaam told the priestess. "It was not an easy battle, but I made out alive." He said. There was no need to point out he hadn't actually fought the demons himself, they both knew that he was not trained as a soldier. He had simply done the best he could to aid those who did fight, with the tools he had been given by the head priest and the Guardian Goddess. The thought made him recall his duties, and the priest of Oadot looked around curiously, though it did not surprise him that he could not spot the person he was looking for on the outside - if he was around, he was surely inside the larger tents, tending to the sick. "Where is the head priest?"

"He returned to Trelia to get more support and supplies for the wounded." Remilia spoke. The reason he asked was not lost on her, and so she grabbed his face and made him look up at her. She was tall - she had been born a peasant girl, but she carried the genes of the old Tasharen conquerors. "Don't you think you should rest before dragging yourself back to work? You've done a lot already, many of the patients have told me as much."

Saelaam's face became nonplussed when he heard that. He assumed that most of the praise would go to the warriors, the ones who defended the temple, who charged into the depths, who battled the abominations. While perhaps it shouldn't have been unexpected, to hear that the survivors spoke of him as well was surprising. Satisfying, yes, and also encouraging, but surprising nonetheless.

Regardless, the duty of a Chosen was sacred, and in the wake of a battle so massive, he could not afford to turn a blind eye to the wounded. Taking Remilia's hands off his face, he offered her a confident smile. "Don't worry about me. I'm not too tired to help out my brethren."

The priestess sighed. He had been like a younger brother ever since she brought him to the sanctuary, so she could not help but worry. "Fine." She nodded after a short pause. "It's better to have you here than out there among demons, and we're understaffed anyways. Come on." She said, gesturing at the large pavilion she had come out of and then walking back inside, followed by the winged man. To either side of it, he could see a large amount of wounded soldiers of all factions: Tasharen, Dascians and Athelaians, as well as the various allies and mercenaries they had brought. They were all treated equally, and several Chosen were running up and down, praying to heal those that could be healed, and to alleviate the pain of those that could not be. Seeing how overworked they were, the young cleric quickly got to work alongside his fellow Chosen.

---

Some hours had passed since the fateful battle against the demons had come to its conclusion, and the stream of injured soldiers and civilians both from the battlefield and the camps had slowed down significantly since then. With the Chosen doing the best they could, taking only infrequent breaks to avoid burning out, many were saved, even if there were many others who were not.

Saelaam sat next to a cot where an older man lay, the red of his uniform blending in with the red of his blood and the symbol of Dascus still barely visible on his rent breastplate. The healer laid his hands on the man's chest and prayed, hands glowing white as the soldier's flesh mended and his pain subsided, albeit temporarily. Despite his efforts, however, it was clear that he would not make it: he had lost far too much blood, and it was only a matter of time before he passed. As great as Oadot's gifts were, there were some things they simply could not prevent. After all, Chtholes deserved his tribute as much as the rest of the Gods of the Pantheon.

Keeping his unease hidden behind a neutral expression, the cleric produced a small flask of clear, bitter-smelling liquid that he handed to the wounded soldier. "Here, drink this if the pain comes back. It will make you feel better." He said, forcing a smile. With some effort, the man moved his hand to grab the tincture and then observed it keenly, studying it for a moment.

"This... is Sualdir's draught, isn't it?" He asked. Dismayed that the man was familiar with it, Saelaam nodded. "So that means it's time, then..."

"I'm sorry." The cleric spoke. "I hope Chtholes' judgment is favorable."

"It won't be." The soldier spoke, before drinking from the flask. The cleric moved on.

After a bit longer, a man clad in the armor of the Knights of Shotarr approached the pavilion, announcing that Sir Raeden and the Hammer of Eboris would be leaving soon, and that any who wished to join them should head to their camp. After he left, Saelaam stood still for a moment, wondering what to do. He had promised to join them, and he wished for nothing more than to aid in ridding the world of demons, but there was still so much to be done here...

A hand clasped the priest's shoulder. "Go." Remilia said from behind him. "I'll handle things here. The head priest will be back soon with more people to help, and some of the knights are staying here with us for protection, so you don't have to worry about us." She gave him an encouraging smile.

"Thanks." Saelaam replied, smiling back. "Then... may Oadot watch over you." He said before taking his leave.

"May Oadot watch over you as well."

---

---

While normally a few hours of traveling would not have taken a toll on the winged cleric, he was exhausted. After surviving a demon invasion and spending several hours tending to the wounded afterwards, he could only be glad that they were setting up their camps to rest for the night, and that the moon would soon come out and revitalize him. Since he did not have a tent for himself, however, there was little he needed to do, so for the time being, he decided to simply sit down and relax near the campfire, letting the flames warm him as he waited for the sun to finally set.

It wasn't long until he noticed an elf woman approach and set up a cot next to the fire. She didn't seem to be a part of the Athelaian army, with her ornate blue robe, but upon seeing her face he instantly recognized her as one of the two elves he had aided earlier during the battle against the demons. Content to see a familiar face, he decided to approach her.

"You look a lot more friendly when you're not dressed like an Athelaian." He commented as he sat down nearby.

[Finland SSR]

Quentin

Theodor Arnulfsson

---

While the camp was being set up and the army under the Hammer's tenuous command was getting ready for a night's rest, Theo opted to take up on scout duty - he did not need much time to set up his own sleeping place, and instead took a stroll across the surroundings of their camp. Since Alexius informed them all that this was not an isolated demon attack, they could not discount the possibility of an enemy attack in the middle of the night. Hell, even if there was no chance of demons trying to swarm them, bandits and foreign armies all posed a risk already, Thankfully, their position was rather defensible - a stream on one end and a forest on the other. If they were attacked and needed to flee, they'd run into problems of terrain less than penetrable for a crowd as large as theirs, but if they stood their ground, they'd have an advantage. Perfect.

As Theo returned to the camp, planning to report about the situation as well as the information he collected from trails on how they might be able to reach the nearest town, he witnessed that trouble was brewing in the camp's center. As should have been expected when trying to gather all the nations of Eboris under one banner, conflict between them was starting to break out - a mage and a Guardian were in an all out skirmish, throwing spells at each other, while dozens were surrounding them in one thick crowd. There were already some rumbles here and there - who knows how long the situation may persist before they have a riot on their hands.

With one ear, Theo heard Sir Quentin's faint voice among the crowd - he was trying to order everyone to stand down, but to no avail, as his voice was simply overwhelmed by the yelling people across the whole center square. This is not good...

Well then. Theo placed his pavise shield on the ground. Perhaps this might help Sir Quentin.

"SILENCE!!!" he roared, with a voice so powerful that it rolled across the entire camp and continued through the forest for miles.

---

Brialya

Tenna

Riki Farinhait

---

Dear diary...

First of all, I'm sorry for not have spoken to you for almost a week. Also, you might notice that I'm writing to you through a different outlet, and probably will be from now on. The fact of the matter is... my old diary and everything I've written in it is probably dozens of leagues away from me by now, in the hands of some Enchanter official. I've managed to get a new one from a lady tagging along with us - she was nice, but, I tried to keep the conversation brief.

It's been a rough week. First, an entire avalanche of mistakes which led to me losing almost everything I've had, including my own life, after I've so painstakingly tried to give life to others. Then...

Well, then I got to witness the entire world getting turned around on its shoulders. Datune's domain is being challenged yet again. Its legendary foes are rising from the depths of Eboris as we speak. I'm not sure if the rest of the Fading Butterfly are mobilizing to defend the Goddess, or whether they are even aware of what is taking place, but for now, I've been holding guard against the demonic threat. I didn't bother to count, but today, I think I've slain at least half a thousand at least and commanded just as many as Second Chances.

I've joined a group of fellow defenders of Eboris, and while most of them don't look at me in any positive light, I'll try to bear it as long as I have to. I've gotten to know some of them more personally, too. One in particular has been latched onto me for as long as we've met, much to my chagrin. She calls herself Tenna - well, writes her name as Tenna - and, I'm not going to lie, but I'm not sure if I can-

"Eh?"

Riki had been sitting next to the campfire and writing for a good ten minutes, but his time alone was not meant to last. Suddenly, Tenna grabbed him by elbow from behind and pulled him away from the log he had been sitting on, dragging him through the campsite. Riki nearly spilt the ink bottle he had placed next to his feet and was forced to stash his diary underneath his cloak, alongside the feather quill he had been writing with.

Out of all the places which Tenna may have dragged him at, she just had to choose the dance floor. Riki hated dancing and parties in general - they felt like too much of a waste of time to him when he could be reading, practicing the necromantic arts, or doing anything more fulfilling than just... well, just dancing. What does it achieve? The white-haired elf shoved him towards a fellow elf who, as Riki guessed, must be a friend of hers. Against his instinct, the necromancer did not resist, grabbing hold of the archer's hand as soon as he got pushed into close enough range.

"...hi."

[The Republic of Atria]

Francis

When they finished, Theo mentioned that he should go talk to Quentin about joining the ranks of whatever was going on there. Which sounded good. More coin in addition to what he was owed from the battle. The group was already packing up their things to leave, Francis figuring he'd tag along until he could locate the captain that owed him money, and speak to Quentin when the opportunity arose.

Locating the captain that owed him money was harder than he thought when all the soldiers were wearing the same bloody thing. Another reason he had distaste for uniformed militaries. The idea of sending some poor sod off to his death when he looked the same as everyone... How could he be ensured a proper funeral or respect for his deeds? Maybe he was missing something. He did have no experience with being in one. Though he did hear of many officers who were full of themselves and often got people killed.

The group stopped after a few hours of travel and he even managed to find the captain who hired him. The captained threw in another fifty coins as payment, as opposed to the several hundred he was looking for, but he knew that he wasn't likely to get any more money out of him. Instead he opted to go look for Quentin. Before he made any progress, he heard someone shout. Loud. The voice sounded like the man he'd met earlier in the day, Theo. The bastard had a pair of lungs on him, that much was sure.

He bolted over to see what was going on, some Guardian had picked a fight with what appeared to be a fire mage and a crowd that looked on edge. As luck would have it, Quentin was among the ones investigating the fight. "What's going on? I heard him shout from across the camp."

[Theyra]

Ivaran Miaris

Ivaran would find himself in the company of his fellow Athelaians. Sitting down around the campfire with common soldiers rather than Guardians. They were relaxed and decided on telling each other stories to pass the time. While one, a tall black-haired elf, was telling a rather tall tale sounding exploit when a friend of his had shown up with a crate of what looked like alcohol. "What took you so long getting here Kymil? Get lost among the crowd?

The elf quickly responded, "I was just checking on Sontar, he is going to be okay and it took a while to get this". He placed the crate on the ground and grabbed himself of the bottles that were different from the rest. Tossing it to the black-haired elf and he caught it.

"That bottle, in particular, took most of the time since that is from our favorite guardian, Tanithil".

"Ha, that stuck up Guardian always hoards the best of the stuff", they laughed till one of the soldiers tapped the black hair elf on the shoulder and soon all eyes were on Ivaran. Now aware that he just admitted to stealing from a Guadian, Kymil nervously spoke, "You won't say anything about this right?

Ivaran with a neutral expression on his face as he stood up and approached Kymil. With a serious tone, he spoke, "That depends Kymil...", Ivaran eyed the bottle and his serious tone turned into a joking one. "I am sure that Tanithil will not mind and may I have the first taste?

Kymil was relived at the news and motioned for the black-haired elf to toss the bottle to Ivaran.

Ivaran caught it but, before he would drink it, he positioned himself in front of the group as the soldiers got their bottles. "Before we partake of these wonderful drinks, I feel that we should make a toast". Holding his bottle up high, "To the fallen and to those that stood here today against the demons". The soldiers happily toasted and Ivaran took a modest sip from the bottle and looked at it confusedly. "That was a surprisingly good drink, I guess this Tanithil knows on how to get the good stuff". Then he passed the bottle to the rest and as he was about to settle down again. He heard what sound like a someone shouted silence and he turned around to the sound. "I will be back", is all he said to the group as he went on to investigate why and who shouted that loud.

He came on to the scene of what looked like a mage and a Guardian about to fight. Ivaran sighed, "we just fought demons and now these two are going to fight after so much death? He thought tiredly and noticed that the Knight of Shotarr, Quentin looked like he was here too. Perhaps trying to stop this fight and he spoke to the Guardian and mage. "Stop that you two! We had enough death today without fighting among ourselves!. Cease and go back to your camps, no blood should be spilled now!

[Tomia]

Brialya

"You look a lot more friendly when you're not dressed like an Athelaian."

"Well believe it or not I take that as a compliment." She said with a small smile. "I'm glad to see you made it out of there... You know I realize now that we never bothered to exchange names. I am Brialya, thank you again for your help back there on the hill." She said offering her hand to shake. Brialya had great respect for healers, and given that Saal seemed serious about his profession that respect extended to him as well.

"It was you who was wielding the hammer no?" She continued, "So, I guess this means those legends I thought were silly are actually true."

Dance you Nerd

Dancing Nerd

A little while later Bria noticed the elf that she had encountered earlier dragging a young man behind her as the approached the seated elf. She seemed to have a determined look in her eyes and that made the archer raise an eyebrow. "Uh hello." She said to both Tenna and Riki. "Good to see you again Tenna, is something the matter?"

Quentin

SILENCE!!!

"Stop that you two! We had enough death today without fighting among ourselves!. Cease and go back to your camps, no blood should be spilled now!

The crowd went quite after Theo's thundering roar, even the two combatants paused in their fighting. After Ivaran berated the combatants, Quentin moved through the crowd and approached them. "Whatever your past allegiances were forget them." He commanded in an even tone before turning to the crowd. "The men next to you is not your enemy. Your enemy is an ancient and unnatural evil that will kill your world if you let it. You must accept those around you as friends, or perish as squabbling fools." His words hung in the air a moment before he continued.

"Now enough of this foolishness. There is work to be done, so see to it." With that the crowd dispersed and Quentin turned to Theo who remained.

"Sir Theo, I appreciate your assistance here. These men are afraid, and when men fear, they return to their base instincts and prejudices." He commented to the Dragon Killer. "I am glad to see you are willing to join this cause. We will need all the capable warriors we can muster if this coming war is to be won."

He then turned to Ivaran, "And you sir, you are a Guardian yes? I appreciate you standing up to your comrades, I'm afraid things like this will be common for sometime until people truly grasp the danger we are in.

"What's going on? I heard him shout from across the camp."

"It was a fight my friend, but it has been settled thanks to Theo here." Quentin said upon hearing Francis' question. "I do not believe we have met, I am Quentin Raeden of the Knights of Shotarr." He said offering his hand in greeting.

[The Anarcho-Syndicalist Commune]

Prax'ak Dor Molap

The great lion man looked up at his handy work. Unlike most other races, Prax didn't use a traditional tent. Instead, he had assembled a great pavilion out of a tembast skin. The large elephantine pelt cause quite a disturbance among the other soldiers of the Hammer, many marvelling at a creature completely alien to them. Prax then dug himself a small pit within the pavilion to sleep in. Satisfied with his new arrangements, he grinned, thinking of the days events. He had fought some demons, made a few allies, and now had the oppourtunity to win more honor than any Trar'el since the days of Ga himself. He found himself thinking of Vlad, the Tasharian soldier whom he had befriended on the field of battle. The two had exchanged words after the battle, before the Hammer departed...

---

"So you will not answer the call of Glory?"

Vlad chuckled and said "Nay, I'm much to old for it, especially globe trotting like that Knight seems intent to do."

"I thought you Tasharans were all about honor?"

"Honor, not glory. What glory is there in dying for what could one day be an enemy of the empire and losing everything I've worked to build for my family. You may not understand it hairball, but not everyone in the human world is born with a chance to rise."

Prax nodded solemnly "Well, then I wish you good fortune in the darkness ahead."

Vlad smiled and said "I've fought worse than demons. Have you ever seen a Liskovian Wood Eagle. Wingspan of 20' feet. I brought it down with a longbow and gained the name "Talon" for it."

"You jest."

"Maybe, but you won't ever know about it. Should you ever find yourself outside of Liskov, seek me out. I may not be able to give you much but I'm sure one such as yourself always enjoys good stew."

The two exchanged a quick shake and a nod, before Prax turned and walked off to join the march of the Hammer.

---

The Lionman sought out one of the various bonfires around the camp. Earlier in the day he had hunted down a large stag and skewered it, carrying it over his shoulder to the fire. After finding one, he sat down and began to roast his meal, growling at any soldier who attempted to take meat for himself. A shorter woman sat down next to him. The icy chill coming off her was one all too familiar to Prax. "Natasia Calinov."

"Cat."

Prax chuckled "It has been too long since Eckers. What possesed you to join the Hammer? Did ensorcelling and polluting the poor soldiers of Dascus grow boring for you?"

Natasia said simply "I joined this ramshackle mercenary band for the same reason I almost killed you in Eckers. My search for information. If this group is doing more caving and archaeology, I want to be the first to know."

"For your masters?"

"For my own purposes. You're as much a monster as I am. You know that we must have an edge to survive. Yours is your size. Mine is my mind."

"Just because I am a foreigner doesn't mean we are equals wight."

"But you relish in your combat, as I do."

Prax grew silent for a moment. "I enjoy combat for the glory it brings, and I give my opponents the honor of a good death. You enjoy combat for the perversion of bodies you get to perform afterwards. I may be bloodthirsty, but you are a harbringer of suffering."

"Let's agree to disagree then."

[The Republic of Atria]

Quentin

Sir Quentin explained that Theo had managed to defuse the fight with his rather loud shout. Understandable. Most of these people didn't look like the type that were much threat in the way of fighters. Not unless they had 10 others backing them up, then maybe. Francis gave a small nod to Theo. "Glad it's cleared up then, but since I'm here, Theo informed me that you're looking for those who're skilled with a blade and recommended that I speak to you about it." Francis explained. "you'll find my skill is second to none, with Theo able to back up my claim. I'm more than willing to prove it as well if needed." Francis boasted.

"I do have a few questions however. What is it exactly you're doing here? What is the pay, and how long do we expect this expedition to last?" He asked.