Beyond Light's Reach (IC Reboot)

[Awesomeland012345]

Tarkin

The alchemist reached the tunnel he had entered. There were two other people - wait, no, the human and the elf. The elf said that she would go to track down and kill someone. Tarkin was fine with that. Go kill someone else, and maybe that would be one less person trying to kill him. It seemed likely considering what had happened the past few minutes. He started to grow aware to the voice in his head. Throughout his fright and his battle with the beast, he hadn't noticed it. And there was another thing, those beasts. Before the dragon had destroyed his town, he remembered his parents telling him about stories of demons to scare him to sleep, with pictures almost identical to the real-life ones here. Demons? That was a bad sign.

You can't fight these demons. You'll lose like when you tried to kill the dragon.

"I - what? How did you know that? I killed one of those things. Shut up." he said to the man alongside him. "Wait..." With a shudder, he realized that the voice had not come from the runesmith.

That's right. I'm something else. You can't fight me. But I can help you fight. You'd be strong enough to defeat a dragon.

"What the hell?" He clamped his hands over his ears, trying to shut the voice out and glanced back up. The runesmith seemed to have the same problem. He seemed to be reassuring himself, and then waved at the exit, presumably to point the way and not get distracted by the voice. Tarkin sprinted past the man and his golem, leaping out the hole and -

Oh god. Tarkin could see everybody - even a large crocodile man - getting pummeled by the demons. Also not good. At least there was no more voice in his head. More beasts poured out of the temple entrance. One demon turned its head toward him. Time seemed to slow down. Tarkin darted away - too late. The beast roared a challenge and charged toward him. He wouldn't be able to grab his potions out of his pockets and throw them in time. Tarkin scrambled back into the temple. Hiding behind the golem, fumbling to grab his potions in case the golem got destroyed, he exclaimed,

"Protect me golem! Protect! Kill the demon -" he gasped for breath. "It's coming! It saw me!"

[Theyra]

Ivaran Miaris

One down two to go, Ivaran thought as the behemoth fell to the ground dead. Watching as Neferis crawled her way out from under it. Good things she was not crushed when that thing fell. We will need her to take out the rest of these demons and what? Ivaran heard Dulen call him Shiny and was slightly offended. Shiny? Really that is what this dwarf was calling him. Though with a battle going on with these large demons. Ivaran did not have to time to dwell on such things and focused on the plan that this dwarf had formed. Seeing Dulen score a hit on a behemoth and caused it to stagger backwards. Now, this was a chance to strike at this thing and Ivaran ran towards the behemoth.

Then he noticed an arrow strike the behemoth in one of its eyes. Taking it out and the behemoth turned its full attention on the unknown archer. Ivaran stopped and turned his glaze to find who the behemoth was now after, and spotted a human archer on a horse. That human is a good shot on that horse, he thought and quickly turned his attention back on the behemoth.

As the behemoth was distracted by the human archer and fired another shot at the back of its head. Ivaran rushed forward to the behemoth and charged with his glaive. Instead of blindly slashing at the behemoth's legs like last time. Ivaran aimed and pierced the behemoth's leg in one of the cracks. The behemoth howled and magma like blood flowed on to his glaive. This time Ivaran knew that he hurt a behemoth and the behemoth responded by trying to crush Ivaran with its fists. Ivaran barely managed to dodge out of the way and he looked around to see if anyone was nearby. "I could use some help taking this thing down."

[Zjaum]

Krook

Werakoya Eyeketrau

Well, this escalated quickly.
Elves popped up at the entrance of the temple. Drawn by desire for blood, Ylva left the party in a barbaric stupor and began brutally smashing some heads. And it was such a nice talk.
Then some mystery fiends popped up at the entrance of the temple. Drawn by desire for blood, Krook left the party in a barbaric stupor and began smashing some heads. And it was such a nice talk.

Werakoya nodded. She'd wanted a nice, quiet conversation. Well, good moments and lasting moments rarely mix, anyways. The goliath stood up. She was telling the truth when she said she had no martial training with her "primary weapon." Well, not in an official sense, anyway. On a practical, pseudo-professional manner, the Street Crawlers did teach her- well, command her- to break the knees of dissidents. She didn't train exactly; she just got really good through practice. Skilled? No. Effective? Yes. But something told her that she wouldn't last three seconds against Ylva's unconscious elven sparring buddy, let alone the literal demons approaching them.

She turned back. She couldn't change anything. Her head glanced over her shoulder. Well, the meat was going to go bad by the time they were done, in all likelihood. If it wasn't trampled or tossed onto the dirt by a horde of mercenaries, it could be stolen, or forgotten and left alone to rot. She grabbed a strip and ate one. Five remained. If the cook ever returned, those alone would sustain him. She was still chewing as she surveyed the scene. Well, now that she's here, and now that they're there, she might as well see what she could do. It doesn't seem like the big beasts would be the kind to lay traps, and she needed to earn her wage somehow.

The quandary was which demon was so incapacitated as to make the combat so easy that Werakoya could take it on. She surveyed her newfound opponents. Ah, there was Krook. And his captor was using his hands, and struggling to carry such a large foe. Perfect.

Still chewing, Werakoya grabbed her crowbar from mild concealment and walked up to the big red hulk. She swung the metal rod back and struck it against the demon's knee. The demon shook its leg but otherwise seemed unfazed. Hm. She'll try the other. She strolled around Krook to the demon's other leg. She threw back her bar and returned it forward, making a loud cracking noise. The demon howled, and his leg collapsed backwards against itself. The demon's hand lost its grip on its captive's neck, suddenly clenching again just out of reach. The crocodile man now had a split second to make his move, during which time the giant woman was going to get the heck out of there.

[Auropa]

Krook Tolasthes

Werakoya Eyeketrau

Ylva Pathmaykr
Outside the temple

When the demons broke out from the earth, Ylva was still among those fighting at the entrance and was nearly swatted completely aside by the first of the behemoth’s attacks. Whatever these creatures were, the fact they wanted everyone of them dead was obvious enough and by their sheer size alone, Ylva wasn't about to doubt their ability to do so. As her adrenaline began to spike and a crooked grin returned to her face, she clenched her hammer in anticipation when a stray thought crossed her mind. While some of the beastkin and their allies had taken to their new opponents with vigour and ferocity, the elves had been caught out of formation and while slowed down by their armour, were being mercilessly cut down by the giant beasts of stone and fire.

“Spirits give me strength.” She muttered to herself as she re-slung her hammer and charged in.

Ylva wasn’t the fastest of fighters but at times, like this speed was only so important. In her mind, what mattered most was having the will to act and the strength to carry it out without hesitation. Moving in like a charging bull, Ylva reached forward and grabbed an unsuspecting elven warrior. Clearly surprised at the sudden impact from behind, the elf seemed about to comment, protest or even attack before being cutoff when, with the force expected of a goliath warrior, Ylva threw him backwards and into momentary safety away from the lumbering mass of stone and destruction. “Fight’s over! If you can’t dodge their blows then get clear!” She called out as she reached down and began dragging another wounded elf away from the conflict. A battle was something to be appreciated and honoured, these creatures had tarnished theirs by attacking without warning and from within the elven ranks. While she was still determined to get inside and find her friend, she wasn’t about to let the warriors she had just faced die an unfair death in a cheated fight.

After working to cover and carry a few more scattered soldiers away from the battle, the goliath couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy when she saw the first of the monsters go down. It was then that she noticed a familiar crocodile beastkin caught in a dangerous situation. Krook, while making a considerable amount of damage on his own, had been grasped by one of the creatures and locked in its grip. When it all looked hopeless for the thalarian though, another familiar face showed up. As impossible as it seemed, Werakoya had simply walked up to the beast unnoticed and with a brutally simple set of attacks, had brought it to its knees before once again managing to fade away from view. Shaking off the absurdity of it, Ylva dropped the soldier she had been carrying and placed her hammer firmly in her grip once more. Opportunities such as this were a rare gift and she had no intention of wasting it.

Breaking into a sprint, Ylva bounded across the field and towards the toppled behemoth. As she got closer, she moved to the highest ground she could before taking a powerful leap towards her foe. For a single moment time seemed to freeze as she hung in the air above the semi-kneeling demon. There were many things about this that did not make sense and there were many questions she needed answered but for what little it was worth, this kill would be simple. As she closed in on her target, she let out an almost animalistic roar before swinging her hammer down into its head. With an echoing crack, the stone hammer met its mark and broke through, shattering the rock in its path and eventually coming to a stop as it bored its way to what was once the beast’s chin.

Covered in feiry entrails and standing atop the caved-in head, Ylva wrenched her weapon free and took a look across the battle field. With this one down only one more was left standing and with a number of fighters already converging on it, she didn't have high epectations for it lasting too long. Of course that still left the matter of where they came from, what they were and possibly most importantly, weather there were more on the way. Seeing no answers from the corpse she stood on, Ylva put aside her doubts and changed her focus to the now side of things, first turning to face Krook and taking stock of her new ally's situation.

“Sorry for stealing your prey. I saw the opportunity and couldn’t resist. ” She half-joked as she jumped down.

[Ceystile]

Essie barely registered Quentin’s hands shaking her, shouting at her to fight the demons. “Whatever it’s offering you, you can only achieve if you resist now!” Her daze slowly broke when she caught sight of the flaming abomination that the former mage had become. Did she want to turn into one of those things? No...that was no life to live. And Adrian, he wouldn’t want any of this. He would be devastated.
Come back alive, that’s an order. You hear me? You remember your promise to me, Essie? You promised you’d come back alive. She did promise...Thérèse Valsier was never one to break a promise. And certainly not to the people she cared for most.
“NO!” The word came hoarse, growling from her throat as she felt the voices and their influence leave her body, first thing she noticed was Sir Quentin being knocked down off his feet by one of the behemoths. “Sir Quentin! Don’t worry, I’ve got you!” She sent a rushing blast of ice from her staff, aiming it at the monsters closest to the fallen knight while Vissra and Firethroat were attacking with acid and blade merely a few feet away. The doctor looked up at the giant dragon man.

“You think we’ll make it out of this alive, my lord?” Vissra asked, tossing another potion at an abomination lumbering toward them. Firethroat cleaved at a demon with his weapon, swinging as hard as he could. “I certainly hope so. We won’t if we don’t fight, that’s for sure.”

[Tomia]

Brialya
Brialya moved deeper into the temple, watching her surroundings carefully to make sure no demons were approaching. She heard footsteps from behind her and knew it was that elf that had tackled her before. There didn't seem to be much going on in this corner of the temple. The floor was littered with the dead, some elves others humans. However she heard coughing nearby and approached a prone elf who was clad in golden armor. His stomach was pierced and was bleeding heavily. He didn't have much time left. Brialya recognized him. He was the commander, the one who started all of this.

"You fucking asshole!" Brialya shouted, as she leaned down and grabbed the wounded man by the collar. "Do you see what you've done?"

The man coughed violently before smiling. "We've done what needed to be done. Our world needs cleansing, to return to greatness."

Tenna flinched at the sudden shouting and her eyes started darting around. She wasn't sure if those things were close by, but they could come back at any time. The thief needed to keep them quiet, and one of them was already on the way to helping that.

Tenna pulled out a blade and held a finger to her lips, shushing the archer and glaring at her. Hopefully, that would be enough. However, Tenna had learned that you could never keep a dying man silent, so she brought the blade towards his neck.

Brialya grabbed Tenna's wrist, pulling her hand back away from the man. "No, I need him. He isn't worth anything to me dead, at least not yet."

Tenna glared at the archer and retracted her knife. She wasn't happy about it, but the other woman seemed to need him for something. Besides, maybe this other elf knew something the two women could use.

Brialya turned back to the elven commander. "You have two choices. Either you talk to me now and I'll grant you a clean death. Or I get you healed and hand you over to my friend here. She is very good with knives. She'll have plenty of fun with you before you die." She told the warrior, not really caring about if anything she was saying was true.

"Now, where is Pruity?"

"You'll never find him. We have infiltrated every aspect of Athela. He controls the military, the council, all of it. He will find the artifacts and destroy them. Do whatever you want to me, I will tell you nothing."

Brialya raised an eyebrow, he unknowingly let something important slip. She believed him that he would withstand torture and besides it wasn't her style. She turned back to Tenna, gesturing with her hand for her to continue.

The knife wielding elf thought for a moment as to what was said before obliging. With a flick of her wrist, she slashed his jugular. Still, Tenna thought that there might be something costly on him, and began rummaging about the corpse, forgetting the demons that could still be about. She had come here for profit, and she'd find something to sell damnit.

Brialya frowned as she watched the other elf loot the dead man. This woman was a thief clearly, likely driven by profit more than anything else. While Tenna was distracted with the corpse an abomination came stumbling over and hurled a fireball at the knife wielding elf.

"Watch out!" Shouted Brialya as she tackled Tenna out of the way. They landed so that Brialya was laying on top of Tenna and she didn't have time to move. Instead she sat up and turned to fire an arrow that was shimmering with ice. The arrow lodged into the abomination which howled before growing silent. Its head was frozen over as it toppled to the ground.

Brialya turned back to Tenna. "We have to get out of here. Now."

Tenna huffed as she stood up. When the call had gone out, she had turned in time to see the creature, but not in time to dodge the tackling archer. She wasn't fully sure what the other elf was capable of, so this turn of events was alarming to say the least. Tenna had effectively been taken out of the fight, and her life had been stuck in the hands of a stranger that had betrayed her own allies. It was sheer luck that Tenna was still alive.

Or...was it. The beasts head was encased in ice, and to her knowledge elves couldn't use magic. That meant...the bow? Just who was this elf? Tenna followed her now out of sheer curiousity.

The two elves pushed through the chaos, ignoring the nearby fighting as they made their way outside back towards the forest from which they came. Brialya turned to her strange acquaintance.

"I'm Brialya by the way."

Quentin
As Quentin struggled against the beast on top of him, he was aided first by Rudolph the Slayer and Essie the mage that he had helped break out of whatever these creatures were doing. He was relieved to see it work as she killed the beast Rudolph had managed to incapacitate by cutting off of its tail. He turned to Rudolph first. "Thank you Slayer, you came just in time. I need you to get to start searching this temple for survivors and get them out of here if you can. Whatever these things are, they don't seem to be the taking prisoners type."

Quentin then turned to Essie, "Thank you for your help my lady. I am glad to see these things have not managed to harm you. You must leave now, it isn't safe here. I have to see about clearing out these damn beasts." He then turned to the medic and beastfolk who accompanied her. "See that the lady here makes it to safety. Given what's happening we can't be too cautious."

With that Quentin headed deeper into the tunnel. There he saw a knight he didn't recognize and the Chosen who had accompanied him into the temple. They were fighting one of the beasts and the Chosen seemed to be holding it back with magic. While it was distracted Quentin raised his heavy blade from behind and brought it down upon the beast's back. It howled in pain but soon its struggle stopped and it fell upon the ground dead.

"Chosen, I told you to leave." Quentin said, clearly annoyed he hadn't been listened to.

Saelaam was initially relieved to see Sir Quentin alive and well, and even more so to see him deal the killing blow to the beast. But as the knight turned to him to chastise him for coming back here, the Chosen scowled. There was another person who didn't believe he could take care of himself.

"I'm not very good at following orders, just ask her." He stated, pointing the hammer at Gwen. He was breathing heavily - not only had all the dodging and running for his life taken a toll on him, his reserves of magika were starting to run low as well, exhausting him as a result. Still, he wasn't about to back down from his self-imposed duty.

"We can stand here while I explain to you why I came back, Sir Quentin, or you can help me close that portal and save what few people there's still left to save in here."

Caught in a rare moment of stunned silence, Gwen straightened her uniform and made a somewhat futile attempt to wipe off some of the larger blood stains. The wolf knight commander was something of a legend in the Shotarr knights, a long-time soldier renowned for his skill and who had earned more victories than she had years spent alive. The man was a hero, practically a legend and exactly what she wanted to become.

“I-uh-I. Gwendolyn Sirrade! I’m-I’m Gwen.” She managed to stammer out when Sael pointed towards her. “I told the Chosen to leave but he’s determined to stay. Though if what he’s saying is true and there’s even a chance, we can close the portal then I’d like to try sir.” She added with some internal screaming for stuttering.

Quentin gave a curious look to the flustered knight before him. He didn't recognized her but by her demeanor and armor her could tell she was a knight. He gave her a simple nod of recognition as he was far more interested in what Sael had said.

"Chosen are you saying there's a way to close this portal? How?"

Saelaam looked down at the artifact in his hand. "I... I'm not sure if it will work, but... there must have been a reason this hammer was here, a reason that the portal only opened when the hammer was removed from its pedestal. If there's something in this world that can close that portal, I fully believe this is it." He spoke with conviction, despite his uncertainty.

Though he was determined, his odds didn't seem very good, as even though all the beasts had been taken care of, the abominations that had formed out of the sorcerers present began encroaching upon the trio. A single person had no hope of making it to the portal alone. Knowing this, the crow continued. "I just need to get the hammer there."

Quentin nodded at the healer's words. They had to try anything at this point. Then he turned to see the abominations that were standing between them and the portal.

"Very well, follow me. I will get you to that portal."Quentin said as the grip on his blade tightened. It sparked with lightening once more as he fired a blast at the nearest abomination which shook and howled until it collapsed dead. As he advanced another approached and Quentin dodged a blast of lava before slicing the monster's head off with an angled strike.

"Gwen, to your right!" He called as another closed in on them.

Following suite, Gwen darted towards the abomination and with well practiced precision brought it down quick with an abrupt stab to the heart and head before immediately being put back on the defensive by another of the beasts.

“Whatever you’re planning Chosen I’d appreciate some haste!” She called out as she sent out a blast of magical energy to remove her attacker before continuing her assault while she still had the room to do so.

The healer rolled his eyes at Gwen's tone, but hurried up nonetheless, trailing behind her and Sir Quentin as the trio rushed towards the portal. The host of sorcerous carcasses resisted their advance, but the two knights fighting in tande managed to create an opening for him to slip through. Muttering a prayer in hopes that it would repel any would-be attackers, he slipped underneath the Knight Commander's blade just as it struck another creature, and continued forward on his own.

Several yards away from him, Saelaam could see the portal, a swirling black maelstrom from whence the demons had come to this world. Its ominous presence was powerful and intimidating, but the Chosen's determination was aided by his faith, and he pressed on, hurtling forward in a mad rush towards victory.

As he approached, time seemed to slow down around him, the corrior that separated him from the portal elongating, as if its presence warped the space around him - or was it just an effect of his mind? As if to accentuate this doubt, he heard once more the dark voice that had spoken to him before, the insidious voice of the unseen demon that sought to corrupt him.

No hope. No escape. No salvation.

The young priest gritted his teeth and continued running, his breaths growing heavier and more laborious as he felt his strength leaving him. Still his faith in Oadot, the Lady of the Moon, impelled him forward. She had sacrificed her form to protect her children from the night and its terrors - he would do whatever it took to protect the world as well.

NO HOPE. NO ESCAPE. NO SALVATION.

The voice grew louder in his head and Saelaam grimaced. His head was throbbing with pain and his heart beat so furiously he thought it might punch through his flesh and leave him, but he ignored the pain and stress and exhaustion in his body to reach the portal and end this madness.

NOHOPENOESCAPENOSALVATIONNOHOPENOESCAPENOSALVATIONNOHOPENOESCAPENOSALVATIONNOHOPENOESCAPENOSALVATIONNOHOPENOESCAPENOSALVATIONNOHOPENOESCAPENOSALVATION

The Chosen cried out in pain. The voice was deafening, overwhelming. But the portal was almost within arm's reach now. He just had to take one step more. Just one step more-

A pang of agony lanced through his entire body, originating from his left shoulder, and as he looked down with bloodshot eyes, he saw a black tendril that had cleanly pierced through it, summoned by one of the few abominations that yet lived in the wake of the two knights. Briefly stunned by the sheer pain and still overwhelmed by the voice in the dark, Saelaam screamed and tried to move forward, but he felt as if something unknown spell had him rooted where he stood. He tried again, and another time still, to no avail.

With no obvious way to complete his task despite being so close now, the young crow panicked. He could feel his consciousness beginning to slip, and knew that if he did not do something already, he would fail and possibly condemn all who still lived.

Not knowing what else to do, Saelaam summoned what remained of his strength and hurled the glowing hammer at the black portal. Crackling with energy, the artifact flew across the corridor, and as soon as it touched its target, the portal seemed to shatter as a mirror would, shards of black glass falling to the ground and then disappearing in small clouds of black smoke that quickly dissipated.

The fell voice suddenly disappeared, leaving him with an astounding clarity of thought that lasted for only a moment.

It has... been done...
The portal is no more...

And with that single last thought, Saelaam collapsed.

Quentin and Gwen finished off the last of the abominations before the former rushed to the healer's side, lifting the smaller beast into his arms. He was relieved the portal was closed, but he didn't want to see someone who sacrificed so much fall on his watch.

"Gwen we must get outside. This man needs medical attention." He told her as he pushed his way through the temple chamber, climbing back towards daylight. As he walked an unfortunately familiar voice crept into his head.

You have won nothing. We are free. You cannot stop us.

[The Republic of Atria]

Goliath lady

Seeing no other choice, and the fact that the lady was already moving towards the giant flaming death monster. He still wasn't sure whether or not to just bolt and skip regions. He had enough saved up, he still had his fences, the helmet concealed his face, he could drop off the face of existence and go back home with a pretty penny.

On the other hand, the lady knew his name, when he knew for a fact that he had never interacted with her, and she definitely wasn't within earshot. She even knew about his sword. No, he couldn't run. She had too much information and means of gathering it. He couldn't retreat with her still alive. By the gods, he wished he knew more about magic.

Lud was perfectly content to just let her handle everything, but then she called out to him, insisting that it was weakened. "Lady, that thing is three times the size of a horse and on fire!" It was rearing, and there were people watching. He hissed quietly and hesitated at first, but approached the injured demon, clearly uneasy. "Just... Just stay hurt for another few seconds you stupid monster."

Despite it's injuries, it recovered enough to swipe at him. Lud used the flat portion of the blade as a shield, but the demon's titanic strength knocked it out of his hands, as well as knocking Lud several feet back. He brought up his heavily armored arm, which shunted the worst of it. The beast stomped towards him as he looked and grabbed for his sword. The magical blade having flickered off after it left his hands.

The beast jumped just as Lud grabbed his sword. It pounced on him, snarling and dripping the molten demonic blood all over him.

Lud's fight or flight response kicked in, and he thrust the metal blade into the eye, causing the beast to roar out in pain and back up, trying to claw the blade out of it's eye. Lud, seeing that his sword was stuck in the creature, yelled the yell that sounded like the warrior he claimed to be, the blade igniting as he pushed it farther into its head. He grabbed it with his other hand, the blade's magic surging, Lud yelling, as the magic erupted from the creature, obliterating its head, as well as most of its torso as Lud himself, was thrown back with a death grip on his weapon, eyes closed. "Lady..." He spoke between breaths ", you sure you're not trying to get me killed?"

[Finland SSR]

Tarkin

Syn of Ashar

---

It was perhaps foolish to imagine that they were going to be safe as soon as they made their way outside. The outskirts of the temple had already boiled over into a massive battle, swarms of the demonic creatures flooded through the gates, facing the meager remaining defenders. If anything, compared to the narrow corridors and tight spaces of the temple, where Syn could just stand behind his Golem and remain out of reach, this was... even worse.

"Halt." the runesmith suddenly ordered. His contraption stopped immediately, its stature straightened - then Syn walked up to it and pushed in a key, splitting the back armor plate open and revealing a tight compartment inside. Him staying outside the Golem was only going to leave him in more danger - so, while he's still outside of any pathetic demon's sights and so able to...

"All right!" Syn yelled, his and the Golem's vision becoming one and the same, and the compartment closing shut. The armored runesmith immediately ran forward and drew his greatsword, plunging it into the face of the first demon which happened to cross his way - the poor thing didn't even get a chance to react to a nine foot tall behemoth of stone and steel advancing upon it. This drew the attention of several more of the creatures, the size of bulls and bears and twice and ferocious, all of which leapt at Syn one after the other - but their demonic claws and jaws fared poorly against enchanted steel. One after the other, he ripped the creatures from his body, slammed them to the ground, and skewered them with his greatsword.

The catharsis was unbelievable. The fact that these creatures were clearly not from this world and so deserved no mercy certainly helped.

A cry for help reached the armored runesmith from behind him. The same alchemist before was in trouble - despite having hidden behind the Golem, he didn't manage to escape the demon onslaught, and one of the creatures was now gunning after him.

"Stop yelling!" Syn's voice suddenly boomed from the contraption - its left hand grabbed the alchemist by the collar to get him out of clawing range, while its boot smashed into the demon's neck. The sheer force of the strike smacked it into the nearest wall, even if the kick's posture was terrible and looked more like the runesmith was trying to push a toy away. With the immediate threat cleared out, Syn once again placed the alchemist back on the ground.

"You're drawing attention to yourself! If you can't fight, then find a hole where to hide and wait while the others sort it out! Or climb a tree, I don't know!"

[Tomia]

Quentin
Quentin rose to the surface where the fighting had also died down. Dead were scattered everywhere and those who survived looked battered and shocked. Quentin felt eyes on him as he walked out of the temple with Sael in his arms. The hammer sat resting upon Sael. Quentin took the hammer and handed Sael off to his Chosen comrades who had smartly retreated into the woods when the fighting started. One of the Knights of Shotarr approached Quentin. It was a shorter man named Gregor.

"Knight Commander! Thank Shotarr you are alive."

Quentin nodded though it was clear he wasn't really listening. "Where is Lucius, I need to speak to him."

Gregor's eyes shifted to the ground. "Sir Lucius... is dead sir. He died in the temple. We... could barely identify him but his armor made it clear."

Quentin's expression grew stony. Lucius had been a good friend, and a better commander. He hadn't deserved this, to be torn apart in a dark basement for the greed of others. "I want a head count, everyone who survived and didn't, now." Gregor nodded and ran off as Quentin dropped down on a nearby rock, a pensive and dark look on his face.

Gregor came back fifteen minutes later and by this time a crowd of what seemed to be all the survivors had gathered outside the temple many of them staring off at Quentin.

"Sir I have the count. 50 survived most are mercenaries who were outside. Most of the leadership of the different nations are dead as for our own ranks... We were the only survivors sir."

Quentin rose to his feet, anger in his eyes. "The only survivors?!" He asked, his tone was a far change from his usual calm and commanding tone. His fist was clenched, he wanted to hit something to make someone pay for this.

"Knight Commander I demand an explanation of what happened in there!" A fancily dressed lord said. He was Dascan, Quentin could tell. "I am Lord Taraval and I demand that you...."

"What you are, is not important enough to have been inside the temple in the first place." Quentin shot back to him. "You have no authority here so back off."

A stout man in armor, clearly a dwarf came over as well. "Tashar will be claiming that hammer. With the harm that's happened here, we'll see it destroyed."

"It must be studied!"Lord Taraval countered in a shrill voice. Others gathered and began arguing among themselves before Quentin finally snapped.

"ENOUGH!!" He shouted in a booming voice. "One more word from any of you and I will see you sent to your gods I swear it. I lost good people today, soldiers who fought for peace. They died in agony, being torn apart by monsters that were supposed to be fairy tales. And you have the nerve to stand over their dead bodies and argue over a trinket?" He paused trying to contain his anger.

"Things must change. Can't you see the gods are testing us?! They have sent this foe to see if we can unite as our ancestors did. These monsters are not going away and I won't stand idly by as they tear this world apart. I Sir Quentin of the Knights of Shotarr hearby declare the Hammer of Eboris reborn."

A great murmuring grew among the crowd, Lord Taraval had a sneer on his face. "You over step knight. You think you can wield children stories to horde power? We don't even know if there are more of these creatures. I will not allow you to start a crusade for your own glory."

"There are more, you can count on that." A Goliath woman stepped forward to the center of the crowd. "The seal is broken, all over the continent demons slip from their prison. A hole has been created, and they seek to widen it." Yasema sethaid calmly as the crowd stared at her.

"And who exactly are you lass?" The Tashar dwarf commander asked.

"I am a Keeper of the Glass, Sualdir's will is in motion."

More murmuring from the crowd Quentin himself was stunned. He had never met a Keeper of the Glass before.

"Do you need more proof that something is happening here Lord?" Quentin asked his Dascian rival.

"Nonsense, I believe not in your superstitions."

The crowd was starting to argue among itself and Quentin feared another fight might break out.

"Enough!" He shouted again. "I have declared the Hammer of Eboris reformed. Who will stand with me? " He called out to the crowd. "Together we can save the world. Together we can prove we are worth saving!"

Dulen
Quentin?

He realized he knew the Knight of Shotarr who was at the center of this craziness. They had met at a tavern years ago, Quentin helped him out of a...situation Dulen had found himself in. He then heard Quentin's proclamation and found himself torn. He wasn't much for causes and crusades, but this seemed too big to ignore. Demons, a Keeper of the Glass...this will be legend. He thought to himself. Their world was truly in danger and he wasn't going to sit by and ignore it.

"I'm in wolf knight, if you're going to put an end to this craziness sign me up."

Brialya
Brialya raised an eyebrow when a Knight declared the Hammer to be reborn. Was this a power play or was he really trying to save the world. Brialya decided she wouldn't find out from the outside and besides this might be her best bet to hunt down Purity and stop whatever madness was planned.

"I will join!!" She declared loudly before turning to Tenna nearby. "What about you?"

[Finland SSR]

Syn of Ashar

---

Almost in a flash, the battle came to a close. Smashing through demon after demon, the armored runesmith soon noticed that a chilling silence set upon the battlefield - the last of the creatures either scattered or fell, the sounds of weapons clashing stopped, and only a battlefield strewn with corpses was left in the wake of it all. The Golem's back popped open and allowed Syn to step out, he wiped the sweat off his face as his first action. It was, obviously, quite hot inside what amounted to a human-sized steel can.

Whatever those creatures were, their advance was halted, but at a massive cost of life. For every one of the monstrosities laying upon the thin grass, one of their own laid nearby - be it human, or elvish, or beastfolk, they died all the same. When one of the few remaining leaders of the party, Sir Quentin - whose ranks Syn was technically a part of, as a mercenary follower - began making a headcount, it became clear just how terrifyingly few of them remained.

So much blood has been spilled. "Dear gods, that felt so great."

Syn had participated in a handful of battles before, but none of them were as vast and intense as this one. And the rush of adrenaline made the risk all worth it - especially just how loose he allowed to let himself go. The sheer might he had over these creatures, the feeling of being the center of action, he wanted to experience more of it, and it seems as if his wish was about to be answered.

Making his way to the survivors with the Golem following after him, Syn listened to the argument between Sir Quentin and Lord Taraval intently, making a mental note of each sentence. He cared little about the hokey pokey religious matters, the announcements of prophecy, and appeals to the divine, at least not before he could physically observe how real it all was - but the announcement that the Hammer of Eboris is reborn caught his immediate attention. He had heard of the legends of the original Hammer, and while it was rather rich to assume that a knight and several dozen followers from across the world can compare to that historical army, it meant they shall be challenging the demon hordes, getting into battle, and all of it allured the runesmith.

"If you need more swords to follow you, then consider mine to be one of them," Syn announced soon after Brialya, then knocked on his Golem's chestplate, smiling at the contraption. "If we'll be taking on the second Great War, I'll need to give you some improvements, though."

[Theyra]

Ivaran Miaris

The battle was finally over after a desperate fight for survival against the demons. Ivaran pulled his glaive out of the corpse of one of the behemoths and wiped his weapon clean of the demon's magma like blood. He did not land the final blow that killed the be behemoth but, he certainly did his part to kill the monster. Surveying the battlefield, filled with corpses of human, elf, and demon. He did not find many of his fellow Athelaians left standing. Most were killed it seemed and he wished he knew what happened inside the temple. Why they choose to break the truce and take whatever was in there for themselves.

When he went join the others that have before a Knight of Shotarr named Quentin he felt annoyance about the talk of what to do with the artifact. The bodies of the dead are still warm and we are still fighting over who gets an old hammer, Ivaran thought as he watched the back and forth.

Ivaran raised an eyebrow when Quentin declared the Hammer of Eboris reborn. What proof does he have that demons are returning in earnest? This could just be an isolated incident and Ivaran doubted that the gods are testing them. Then an unexpected guest among them spoke up, a Keeper of the Glass. A Keeper of the Glass? Here? Ivaran had heard of the Keepers of the Glass before, mages who serve and enforce Sualdir's will. If she is telling the truth that she is a Keeper and that demons are spreading throughout the continent. What will happen to his family and are they in danger? Ivaran shook his head as he thought about it, is this enough proof, he thought. Then an idea came to him, let where this Quentin leads him and if it turns out that demons are not returning and threatening the world. Then he will simply leave and make his way back to Athela.

Raising his glaive in the air and declared, "I will join".

[Segral]

Claire Dione

This battle may have been a victory to others, but Claire had been torn apart and wounded by loss, in the most literal fashion possible. She had been completely unprepared to be sprung upon by the horde of...abominations that had burst forth from that wall of black. She had been closest to that wall, and worse, her back had been turned. One of the most basic rules of combat was never to turn one's back to the enemy, to not show weakness and cowardice in the face of adversity by looking away, and yet, she had broken that basic rule, committed that fatal sin. And she had paid the price in wounds; a large gash across her forearm that seared and burnt, searing burns lying underneath her thin leggings, another spine that had been shredded, and a cut on her forehead, one that dripped blood into her eyes and lead to another raking at her hip. She had fought with every stab and thrust to send them back to the Hell that they came from, but their thoughts stabbed and thrusted back, twisting their way in and forcing evil thoughts into her head, doubts and woes that shook her off balance and interrupted her footwork, cuts multiplying with each misstep.

She did not want to recall those shameful thoughts.

However, she could recall other things. How the intrusion of those thoughts in her mind had finally made her realize that the abominations were demons, the evil creatures told as stories and folktales all across Zhoria and beyond. How that crow boy had snatched the hammer for himself and somehow slunk his way to the portal, attempting to "close it", or whatever his plan was. How she had made a lunge for him, hoping to skewer him with her pike and take the hammer for herself, for Tashar, only to be stopped by the spear of a massive knight that had been corrupted into another one of those demon, one that that caused the gash on her forearm. How her thoughts, and her dim eyesight had betrayed her once again, fumbling and stumbling back until she had been cornered, her cowardice apparent to the stone wall. She might not have even seen the blade of fire that would bring about the end of her life, had the crow not flung his glowing hammer at the portal, granting her eyes just enough respite to send a pike through her assailant's heart.

Still, it had not been enough to dispel the other two abominations that had forced her cowardice against the wall, swords and flames and swords of flames aloft and ready. It would have been an honorable way to die, fighting against the odds stacked high by her natural form and her broken weapon, dying in combat while serving the nation that had hired her, continuing to battle until the very end. It was not ideal; the most respected of Zhorians always died alongside their sisters, died while fighting in their own battalions, but surely, it was better than a death from plague, or from accident?

Few would have grieved for her anyways.

But, despite her preparations, her resignations, her prayers, the blades never came. The beasts crumbled before her very eyes, a sharp bolt of electricity ripping through their chests and causing them to crumble before her very eyes, as if being eaten from the inside by the same hellish energy that had ripped their gateway open. Death's embrace never came, and was instead met with sharp rejection, a shove back to life. At the hand of lightning. She knew who in that chamber in the room was a wielder of such storms on her heart, and her eyes fell upon him within seconds. The Knight Commander. She stayed staring at him for what felt like eons after, her mouth slightly agape even as he picked up the fallen crow boy that had pecked off more than he could chew, even as every abomination in the room was slowly dispatched, even as every other warrior began to file out of the room. Claire lingered, pausing to pick up the trident that she had cast off into corner of the trident, still miraculously intact beyond the fractured prong. Still, this small miracle was not enough to make her forget the one word that continued to float within her mind, flotsam on the murky currents.

"Disgrace."

At last, she managed to collect her woes and follow the procession of survivors to the outside of the temple, a battlefield that already looked similarly razed. The demons had not just struck in the temple, they had battled those on the outside as well, and, from the many corpses she could see, had killed many in their pursuits. She was so dazed, from both the vicious fight and the sudden brightness of the sun that overwhelmed her eyes, turning her vision from stark black wall to sharp white text, that she barely noticed Victoire and Sria bounding up to her, both with mixtures of relief and worry written upon their own walls.

"Claire! Thank Qoit, we were so worried!" Sria practically shrieked, gripping Claire in a tight embrace that she could barely return. It made her chest, her ribs, her back shriek as well, but she enjoyed the support. She felt as if she could fall over at any moment.

"Do not stop being worried, Sria." Victoire said, her expression serious and grim as ever despite affectionately clapping Claire on her shoulder. "Wounds cover her body as coral covers a reef."

"I'm fine, Victoire." Claire said with a wan, tired smile, prying herself from Sria's arms. "It was a difficult battle, my eyes were blinded by some fool's smoke bomb. My pike slipped, but eventually, it made its mark."

Victoire's eyes narrowed at these words, her hand shifting from Claire's shoulder to her own hips as a scowl began to form. "Smoke? If there was smoke, you would have been all but blind. You would not be standing in front of me right now, your body would lying in ravage inside that temple. How do you remain alive?"

"She is a warrior, is she not?" Sria asked, nudging closer to Claire in a defensive manner, her own scowl mirroring that of Victoire's. "Look at the blood upon her pike, she clearly must have slain something."

"There is a difference between slaying one and slaying a horde while your senses are ripped away from you." Victoire curtly replied, her eyes now boring with steel into Claire's mind.

"W-who said it was a horde?" Claire asked coolly, despite a slight tremble in her words. "I was not the only one in that cursed chapel, countless others joined me in that battle."

"And less than half of you returned." Victoire said with a grim air, fiddling with her blade. "My ruminations tell me that you were protected, even saved by another warrior, or perhaps a mage. Your wounds tell me that you had been struck down many times, and the dust of your locks tells me that you were pushed against a stony wall." she said, pointing to the streaks of dust that colored her long, red curtain of hair.

"Have you no shame!" Sria barked back, her furrowed brow matching Claire's. "That is an insult of the highest order, and if you have no written or real word to sign, you will take that back and spare your modesty!" she cried. In Zhoria, an insult indicating that one had failed or become weak in battle could start a blood feud between families. It was never to be taken lightly, and was never to be uttered without the strongest of proof. Unfortunately, Victoire's remarks were not as misguided as Sria believed.

"Sria, calm yourself." Claire said firmly, silencing the younger woman as she pouted. "I...I was protected, yes. It was not my intention. I had been locked into a corner of death by three corrupted men, and...I was blind, I could not see. I did not even call for aid. Before I could so much as blink my eyes, he had destroyed every o-"

"HE?!" Victoire exclaimed, her grim, stone-faced exterior breaking into one of shock and disgust. "You were saved by a man? Please, tell me that this is some sick comedy!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Victoire, Claire is a veteran warrior, she is aware of our Code." Sria said defensively, although her tone was somewhat apprehensive. "Right...Claire?"

"I...it's true. Theft is as large of a sin in our Code, and to lie would be theft of my sisters' truth." Claire said, looking down furiously at her hands, her arms, with their unsightly cuts and gashes. "It was a man who slayed my demons. But my will did not consent, only my Fate did. My will would never...never do something so heinous!"

"Who...who's blade is responsible?" Sria asked cautiously, eyes wide. Victoire remained silent, brushing a blond curl out of her eyes with a grimace, as her finger rubbed upon a wound on her forehead. Claire's was a decent gash, and it bled, but Victoire's was massive, a huge dry-blood caked slash that arced down to the left, barely sparing the eye. It would heal, but a scar was a certainty. Claire's wound was a guarded, protected one, a merciful act. And Zhorians did not accept mercy.

"It was...it was him." Claire said, pointing towards the nearby figure of the Knight Commander, bickering with two others.

"You fell into the arms of the Knight Commander?!" Victoire roared, taking several steps forward to come directly face-to-face with Claire. "Have you no shame?!"

"I did not have the chance to voice my shame, Victoire." Claire said stubbornly, refusing to back down. "I could not even see, let alone give a lecture on the Zhorian Code. I had prepared myself for an honorable death as tradition, only for this...man to destroy what I had so carefully planned!"

"And yet, your honorable plans have lead to dishonor, for you, Sria, and myself, as well as every Zhorian, all so that a cocky, arrogant "Knight Commander" may sit higher on his gold-silver throne and have his swollen head inflamed by his bawdy companions and his own ego, all because the temptress within you decided to swoon into that man's ar-"

"Look at this trident, Victoire." Claire said, brandishing her broken weapon so aggressively that it caused both women to flinch. "Do you see this broken prong? These stains of crimson? These scratches and splinters? I broke that prong when I ran an elite Athelaian warrior through by his neck, and it caught upon his swollen apple. Do you see this pike? Look at these stains, these scorched rays. I earned those by running demonic creates through by their stomachs. I fought twice as hard as half the warriors on this battlefield, and perhaps even harder than the remaining half."

"Well, while you were mashed up against a wall in embrace with Knight Commander, Sria and I killed five apiece, of both creature and man." Victoire said, pursing her lips.

"I killed six, you vixen!" Claire hissed, only to be cut off by a booming shout towards the head of the crowd. The Knight Commander, and a goliath woman, a...Keeper of the Glass? If she truly was who she claimed to be and not a subtle imposter, her words of demons rebirthing across the land...perhaps they were true. Had they not just seen the first awakening? Murmuring swam all around her, clouding her thoughts and turning them into a hazy whirlpool. Hammer of Eboris reforming? It sounded preposterous, and members of the crowd thought the same. She could hear Victoire and Sria snickering behind her, but all she could muster was a wan smile, which slowly wilted further as man after woman cried out in support, claiming that they would stand with the Knight Commander and his Hammer.

Claire looked back at Victoire, the gash on her forehead. Wide, gaping, raw, a true hero's scar. Claire's cut, which had once felt just a wide, gaping, and raw, now felt small, unimportant in comparison. She had not yet earned the right to call herself a warrior, to stand shoulder to shoulder with those that endured larger gashes. She had not yet reclaimed the honor that she had let slip between her fingers when she let the Knight Commander fight her own wars.

There was only one way to do that.

"I too, will join this Hammer!" Claire cried, lifting her broken trident aloft into the air. She knew that if she looked behind her, she would see Sria and Victoire with their mouths agape, eyes wide. Victoire would be furious, Sria would be saddened, but it was a necessary sacrifice. Her pride had been damaged, and until she proved her skill and paid back the debt she owed, until she had gained just as large of a gash on her forehead, she would fight and fight until her dying breath, her own moral code be damned.

[Absolon-7]

Quentin

Rudolph Thorbecke

---

Rudolph nodded to Quentin's request to look for survivors but it seemed that such a prospect was futile as there was hardly a soul alive left inside the temple with all having gone to join Quentin back above ground. The shattering of the portal grabbed his attention and as he stared at a shard of it dissipate into smoke he could very well relax that the battle was over. He silently went back above ground only to see the last of the expedition's survivors congregate around Quentin and get in arguments amongst themselves. As he walked up to the group the boisterous voice of the Shotarran knight boomed in its declaration of the Hammer of Eboris and a call to action for those who'd join him.

Person after person took his call to join but Rudolph said nothing for the moment. He was a Slayer in the guise of a standard mercenary as such he should have no more business here and slink away never to be heard from again. But it would feel like he was running away like he always did. One problem arises and off to run away to something else. Rinse and repeat it seemed. He gripped the handle of his sword as he looked upwards to see his crow circling the sky above them. He'd have to get a new shield sometime soon.

"You can count me in founding the Hammer of Eboris," stated Rudolph, "All I have is my blade but all I need is my blade."

[Zarkenis Ultima]

Neferis Lahari

---

Soon enough, the battle against the behemoths was finished, without any further intervention from the Wandering Wolf or her unnamed ally, the knight in black. Neferis sighed in relief - she had never been one to shy away from combat, and there certainly was honor in remaining stalwart in the face of adversity, but even so, only a fool or a lunatic would wish to find oneself embroiled in a conflict against fiends who had come straight out of legends from a millennium ago. It was no wonder, then, that she was content to have survived such a trial, and with a hefty kill under her belt to boot. She had acted as befitting a descendant of Sefnir and a member of the Lahari Dynasty, and she had come out victorious, there was scarcely anything more that could be asked of her. Traitorous elves and insidious demons alike lay dead on the battlefield while she yet lived.

Of course, even in victory, it paid to be mindful of one's surroundings and, especially, of one's allies. The she-wolf looked towards the mysterious knight clad in black, who had, with astounding strength for one of such a thin frame, severed the behemoth's leg with a single strike. She was still on her knees, using her blade to support herself as she breathed heavily. Whatever deity or force she had called upon for strength earlier, it had clearly left her drained.

I suppose it's no surprise that something like that would happen. The bodies of humans aren't meant to hold such power.

Shrugging, the Shi'el decided to do something about the demonic blood that still soaked a part of her - without a river or stream nearby, it would be difficult to do in this form, but there was an easy solution for that. Focusing for a moment, she used her connection with the Thalai and willed her beast form to briefly replace her current one, after which she immediately started shaking off the blood, glowing droplets flying off of her grey fur coat. It was far from perfect and she would still appreciate the opportunity to bathe within the next few hours, but it was good enough for the time being.

Shifting back to her original form and now much cleaner than before, Neferis stepped over to the knight in black and held out a hand to her.

"Come on, human, get up." The she-wolf spoke. "Being on your knees is a pose for worshipers and lovers, not for heroes." She quipped playfully. The slender Repentant looked up at Neferis for a moment before nodding and reaching out with one hand, the other still tightly gripping her sword. Once the desert woman had pulled her up, she retrieved the blade from the ground and promptly sheathed it. Her legs were clearly unsteady and Neferis noticed this, grabbing the woman's arm and pulling it around her shoulders to support her.

"You have my gratitude, wolf." The Repentant spoke, her voice much softer than what the Shi'el had expected - it sounded more fitting of an artist, a priestess or perhaps a noblewoman than it did of a hardened errant knight. "May I ask your name?"

"Of course!" Neferis' voice was as bold and confident as ever. "I am Neferis Lahari, of the great Antoran city of Amarkar."

The knight in black turned to look at her. "Lahari? The rulers of the great desert, correct?"

The she-wolf's eyebrows rose in surprise. In her experience, there were extremely few outsiders who cared enough about Antora's internal politics to know the name of the family that ruled over the desert. "Yes, indeed." She replied, impressed. "You know my name now, may I ask yours?"

"I am Chrysanthea." The Repentant replied. "If it's easier, you may call me Chryssa. It is an honor to meet someone of your stature, Neferis."

The she-wolf grinned slightly at the compliment. Seeing someone outside of the Gules Desert offer her that sort of deference was quite a surprise, but she wasn't about to complain. "Chrysanthea, you say? Are you from the Kritarchy?" She asked, and Chryssa nodded. "I thought so. You Sartharians do have the prettiest names." Neferis spoke honestly, before starting towards a nearby rock. "Now, let's get you somewhere you can sit down."

Fifteen minutes passed, and as the survivors gathered outside of the temple entrance, an argument broke out between the commander of the Knights of Shotarr and some of the few national representatives that remained. Neferis simply rolled her eyes at the ongoing conflict, but when the man proclaimed the Hammer of Eboris reborn, her eyes went wide. That mythical army, reformed as the demons return? Was this the purpose she had been looking for?

Before she could speak, however, Chrysanthea promptly stood up next to her. "I did not come here to follow a Knight of Shotarr of all people." She said with some clear disdain in her voice. After a brief pause, however, she continued. "But I am here to stop the demons. I will stand with you, Sir."

Neferis looked at Chryssa and then back at Quentin. "I care not for outsiders and their squabbles. But if the demons threaten to return, then I cannot turn my back on then." She spoke proudly, as any other Antoran surely would in her position. "The Wandering Wolf stands with you as well, knight."

---

Saelaam of Trelia

---

After his unconscious form was carried out of the temple by Sir Quentin, Saelaam was delivered to his comrades, who had thankfully escaped the massacre by heading into the nearby woods to keep themselves separate from the fighting as soon as the Athelaians had turned on the rest of the expedition. They did not return until they had the absolute certainty that the demons had been taken care of, and by then, they had plenty of work to do - although they sadly did not have much success in aiding those who were wounded by the demons, and most of the wounded perished despite their efforts, leaving the number of survivors at only around fifty, with the majority being those lucky enough not to receive grave wounds in the first place.

After a few minutes, Saelaam had awoken not in that dreaded crypt where the demons had returned to Eboris, but on a blanket laid upon the grass outside of the temple and the forest that surrounded it. Sitting up, he saw that he was surrounded by his Chosen comrades, some of them looking over him with concern, and a few others with wonder. Confused at why they might look at him with such eyes, he nonetheless ignored this in favor of something more pressing - he felt cold. Looking down, he noticed that his robes had been taken off, and he had only his trousers on and a bandage around his shoulder, where the black tendril had stabbed him. He noticed that while it felt sore, it didn't hurt much, certainly not nearly as much as it had when he was still down there, haunted by dark voices and assailed by the black gate's oppressive aura. He felt much better now, much... lighter, and healthier. His brothers and sisters had done a good job, but he had the feeling his improvement was mostly due to his separation from the portal.

"Brother, you're awake!" One of his fellow Chosen spoke, a stout young dwarf.

"How do you feel?" A Freelander elf asked him.

"Is it true? That you used that glowing hammer to close the portal?" A young priestess from Dascus inquired, more forcefully than the other two.

Amidst the torrent of questions and greetings that followed from the other Chosen, Saelaam found it difficult to keep up. He could only smile awkwardly as the white-robed men and women continued to address him, waiting until the din died down before speaking. "I-I'm fine, I feel much better thanks to all of you. And yes, I did close the portal. I-" He started, about to tell the story in order to quell the curiosity of his fellows, only to be interrupted as a Knight of Shotarr approached. This time, however, it was not Sir Lucius, and his armor was worn with the signs of combat.

"I'm making a head count on Sir Quentin's behalf, Chosen." The man explained. "Everyone in your delegation is accounted for, correct?"

"Aye, Sir Gregor." The dwarf promptly replied. "All of us are here."

"I see. That is good to hear." Sir Gregor nodded. "Come with me, the survivors are gathering by the entrance." He requested. "And don't worry about getting caught in a melee, after what happened no one is in shape for something like that anymore."

Saelaam scowled at those words, but stood up nonetheless, ready to follow the others towards the gathering. The Dascian girl from before trailed behind him with a set of robes - the burns and tears marking them as the Paragon's own set - but he didn't seem to notice her presence. When the air got too cold for his comfort, he simply unfurled his black wings, unrestricted by clothes, and then covered himself with them, enjoying the sensation of freedom.

Not long after, he and the other Chosen found themselves near Quentin and the other survivors, in just the right place to witness the bickering going on over the hammer, in spite of all the horrors that had been witnessed that day. Saelaam felt disgusted by the greed of Tasharens and Dascians alike, but said nothing as the Knight Commander silenced the squabbling louts and declared the Hammer of Eboris reborn. Initially, the young priest was stunned - despite what they had faced that day he hadn't expected Sir Quentin to take a page out of those ancient legends and attempt to form a force to drive back the demons. But as more and more people spoke up in support of the Hammer, he became convinced that it was destined to be.

Before long he too stood up and walked towards Sir Quentin, much to the surprise of his fellow Chosen.

"When Oadot walked among us, she made a sacrifice to save the world from the dark." He told the Knight Commander and anyone else nearby who cared to hear. "Now it's our turn." He spoke. Roused by those brief yet meaningful words, the other Chosen stood up and followed him to show their support.

Now it's my turn...

[Awesomeland012345]

Tarkin

Tarkin couldn't believe his eyes. The runesmith had somehow... become one with his golem? It picked him up by the scruff of the neck like a ragdoll, and yelled at him to stop screaming or he would attract attention. Seemed kind of hypocritical of him. Not that Tarkin cared. The golem was protecting him. It seemed like it was three people fighting at once; punching, kicking, bashing. The demon that had followed Tarkin was instantly decimated by a devasting kick to the head. It flew back, and smashed into the wall.

"Whoa..." He was lost for words. The golem put him down, and Tarkin stumbled outside. It seemed like the battle outside had calmed down. He could now focus on what the demons looked like. they had skin like rock and blood like lava. He shuddered. Those beasts couldn't be from this world... or could they? Considering what had happened today, anything seemed possible. The carnage was terrible. Demons lie scattered around the ground.

Only a few soldiers or mercenaries remained. At least the remaining were the ones who seemed the strongest. Unlike Tarkin. He seemed pretty helpless during the fight. Everyone was gathering around some knight. Tarkin marched forward. He mingled around the crowd. There were many wounds around the crowd. Unlike him. Tarkin wished he could be more helpful. His puny little dagger would barely be like a pinprick in the demons. Anyways, a knight had started to talk.

"Come join me, and protect the hammer of Eboris!" he exclaimed. Or something like that. Tarkin was too wrapped up in self-misery to pay attention. He started to listen when the golem-man said he wanted to join. Then a warrior. Then an elf. And more and more and more and more people.

"Wait, what? What's happening? I should've paid attention..." Tarkin mumbled. At least half of the remaining warriors had already pledged themselves to the cause. If he stayed there, there might be more demons that would come out. Then he would certainly die. But if he joined, there would be a bunch of buffed-up, powerful, 10 foot tall mercenaries that would protect him. Ok, well maybe not him, but they would protect the knight commander.

"I'm in!"

[The Republic of Atria]

""Fate has not shown me your death, warrior. Only what you are capable of with proper motivation and practice. There is a great battle ahead, and you will be a part of it.""

Lud blinked a few times as she gave him a... to call it vague would be generous. "What do you mean what I'm capable of with motivation and patience? There's always some great battle ahead, lady." Obviously, she meant the demons, which while he didn't have to worry about getting wrapped up in anything political, they were DEMONS. "Alright, listen." He said getting a bit closer. "I realize that things are a little tense right now, but the absolute first chance we get, we're having a lengthy discussion about... Everything. You know too much about me for what little information I gave about myself." He said in a rather hushed tone. He probably didn't need to worry about anyone hearing him, the battle was wrapping up and that one Shotarr Knight he saw a bit of when he arrived was giving a speech.

Something about saving the world, proving we were worth the effort. Lud was not much of a cheering man, but he needed to talk to the Goliath woman as soon as possible and it was obvious that she was going to join up with the group. Once an opening presented itself, Lud lifted his glowing sword into the air, loudly proclaiming, "I've naught but my blade. The services of Lud Ornn are to the Hammer of Eboris!" He said. His tone was bold, proud, and seemed perfectly acceptable. The Goliath woman probably knew different.

He wondered how hard it would be to fake his own death and escape...

[North Timeria]

Aymeri was relieved after the fighting was done. His heartbeat steadily slowed and he stepped off of Aquarius. His knees were a bit weak but he pulled himself up. He looked around at the chaos that had ensued at the Temple. Aymeri had not planned for anything like this and felt the need to be comforted by his mother. “I wonder if you truly call for your mother when you die.” he thought to himself as he went to recover his arrows.

As he pulled his arrows from the demon, its blood spilled over on to his skin. As he wiped the blood off he suddenly went into a trance-like state. The recurring dream he had of him being crushed by immeasurable pressure. He could feel the pressure on his shoulders as he quickly snapped out of it. Aymeri didn’t know why this kept happening but he was starting to think he should talk to someone about it.

As the fighting ended everyone seemed to gather around the entrance where a knight was speaking. As Aymeri huddled around with everyone else he couldn’t help but think of his family. If the demon horde was really coming his family would be in danger. How could this group of fighters save the world from incoming demons?

Aymeri then had memories of his brother going off to war. He wanted to fight, he wanted to protect his family, he felt a sense of responsibility. Maybe this was Aymeri’s war; his time to fight for his family. Just as his brother had, his father, and his father.

Before anything else, Aymeri needed to return to Halsha. There was still much he had to handle at home and warn everyone of the coming crisis.

Aymeri waited until Quentin seemed to be unoccupied and approached him.

“I wish to join you on this journey but I must return home to handle unfinished business and warn them of what is to come. I have some questions for the man that sent me here. He may have known more than he let on.”

[Ceystile]

Essie was glad to see Vissra and Sir Quentin alive and well, but that bit of joy quickly turned to sadness when she saw the pain in the knight's face upon hearing of the death of his friends. Vissra was checking some fellow explorers over for injuries while Firethroat came to the forefront of the group after the smoke seemed to clear. Quentin snapped in anger and disbelief when the various factions began squabbling over the hammer, even Vissra's face was in shock underneath her mask.

"What?!" she gasped out when each faction wanted to take the hammer for themselves. Cries of "it needs to be studied!" or "it belongs to us!" infuriated her. "Are you out of your fucking minds?!" the doctor demanded. "A lot of brave young men and women lost their lives today, hell we all nearly died! And instead of mourning or thanking the gods that we got to live, all you fuckers seem to care about is this stupid hammer?! Really?! Just throw the whole brain away, because apparently it's not working properly!" She then turned to the knight. "Sir Quentin, I stand with you..you don't need to worry about any of that. I came here because I wanted to save my town from plague, and if fighting whatever this is happens to be the best way to do that, I'll do whatever it takes!"

Essie spoke immediately afterwards: "Superstition?! I seriously doubt that what we saw back there was superstition! Superstitions don't come to life and try to murder you! I was very nearly possessed...you can take your superstition bullcrap and shove it!" She barely suppressed a shudder remembering the horror she nearly became, how she was so close to losing herself. "We're dicking around with forces we don't understand here, we don't know what this is but it's a hell of a lot bigger than whatever silly little conflict you lot got going on. Miss Vissra is right, I stand with you Sir Quentin."
Finally, it was Firethroat who looked at the knight-general with his green serpentine eyes and grave countenance. You could feel the gravity in his words before he even spoke them. "All I want is to protect my home and my son. If we merely stick our heads in the sand and ignore what's going on around us, none of our children will be safe." The dragon beastfolk then turned to the crowd. "I know you all have loved ones. Children, wives, husbands. Brothers and sisters, friends. They certainly won't be safe if we waste time here, if those things polish us off then what stands between them and this evil? Good sir knight, my sword is yours. Well, it's technically a halberd but anyway. As Lord of Fire, it's my duty to protect my subjects. I'm willing to give my own life to do so."

[Tomia]

At the Temple
Many spoke in response to his declaration. Some expressed doubt, others expressed enthusiasm at the prospect of the Hammer being reborn. Quentin listened but it was difficult to focus as so many voices spoke up at once. "Alright, those of you who are coming with us pack your things. We head to my fortress. It's a few days journey from here so be ready for a bit of traveling." Those who refused to join him scattered back to wherever they cam from and he was left with was seemed to be a little more than thirty people including himself. It wasn't an army, but it was a start.

Hours of traveling later the sun was soon to set and so Quentin decided they would camp for the night. They found a clearing in a forest by a stream of water and the Knight of Shotarr decided this is where they would stay the night. He assigned a few guards on shifts and then began setting up his tent for the night after attending to his horse. After setting up his tent he found himself sitting in front of it, head in hands.

What the hell am I doing? He thought to himself. Almost all of the men he had brought were dead. Was he leading these people to their deaths as well. And where was Shotarr? True nightmares were sprouting from the ground and yet the gods seemed nowhere to be seen.

"You doing alright?"

Quentin looked up to see a Dwarf standing above him, though not by much. "Dulen? I didn't even realize you were here."

"I often get that, its the height you know. Sometimes I get mistake for a garden gnome." He said with a chuckle but the knight didn't smile. "Look, things are bad I know. The things I saw... but trust me the gods picked the right man for the job."

"Did they now? How do you even know they picked me. I certainly don't feel their presence right now." The knight shot back.

"Well I don't see anyone else leading this band of misfits do you? Tell you what, take a walk around camp. Talk to these people, maybe that will give you a better sense of why they're following you."

With that Dulen headed off and left Quentin with his thoughts.

Maybe that's not a bad idea.Quentin thought to himself. He pulled himself to his feet and looked around wondering where he should start.
Quentin Tours the Camp Part 1
Quentin walked through the rows of tents and fires that made up his camp until he came across a very large wolf who was laying down in front of a tent. Assuming this was a person rather than a beast, Quentin approached.

“Hello, my name is Quentin, I wanted to thank you for joining our expedition. As a mercenary you could have washed your hands of the situation, that you did not speaks to your character.”

The grey wolf looked up at Quentin, letting out a slight growl before standing up. After a moment, the creature’s form shifted and reverted to that of a tall, dark-skinned woman in a desert garb. Standing a half foot over Quentin, she looked down at the knight and rested her hand on her hips.

“You have no need to thank me, knight. I may have come here as a mercenary, but I am Antoran first and foremost. If a threat as foul and vile as that of the demons has returned, then I am honor bound to join you in their eradication.” She spoke, as proud as ever.

“I am grateful to have someone who values honor so highly among us.” He said, standing tall himself and meeting her gaze, seemingly not intimidated by her height. “When I approached you in your wolf form, I wasn’t expecting such a beautiful woman to appear before me.”

Neferis let out a short, amused laugh at the knight’s compliment. “It does not surprise me. You humans rarely bother to see the beauty of the wild.” The Shi’el stated. “Still, I appreciate your words. I myself did not expect the leader of the newly formed Hammer of Eboris to be such a handsome little human.” She said, offering Quentin a wolfish grin.

Quentin chuckled pleasantly at being called little.”Well I am glad I exceeded your expectations. You know, funny enough it seems we have something in common. I remember you saying people call you the Wandering Wolf. I have a nickname amongst my fellow Knights as well. They call me the Wolf Knight.”

“Well, Sir, if you fight with half the ferocity that befits such a name, we will all be in good hands.” Neferis said with a nod. “Since you told me your name, it is only fair that I tell you mine. I am Neferis of the Lahari Dynasty of Amarkar. It is good to meet you, Quentin.”

Quentin bowed his head respectfully in response. “It is good to meet as well Neferis. Now if you will excuse me I must introduce myself to the others who have joined us.”

---

With that Quentin made his way to a nearby tent where a human soldier in plain armor sat polishing his sword.

“Sir Rudolph we meet again. I never got to thank you for your help back there in that temple. I must say I haven’t met many Slayers of the Crypt before, but I am glad to have one join us on our crusade.”

“Not a problem at all. I’m not very keen on standing by to senseless killings. Especially by traitors,” said Rudolph twisting his sword around to see light glisten off it after polishing it, “I’m sure my order won’t mind me having a break as this seems like a way bigger problem then some diseased vampire locked up in some old dungeon.”

Quentin chuckled at that. “Demons do seem like a big problem I agree. I must say I don’t know much about your order. You're a secretive lot if I may say.”

“Indeed. They’re even tight lipped to their own members. I think I need a decade under my belt before I get the really big secrets revealed to me,” said Rudolph, “As of now I just get targets and threats sent to me and that’s that.”

“Well, it’s good work you do even if the secrets are denied to you. I know what it can be like to feel like your superiors aren’t always transparent with you. But regardless we all fight for the same cause now, survival.”

With that the two men said goodbye and Quentin moved along to the next part of the camp.

---

Quentin made his way to the Chosen’s tents where they were caring for the wounded. There he found Sael, the healer who had closed the portal. “We meet again, Chosen, I am glad to see you are feeling better.” Quentin said with a smile.

Sitting beside one of the few Dascian knights that had survived the slaughter, Saelaam looked up at Quentin and promptly stood up, glancing over at one of his fellow priests and telling him to look over the patient before stepping aside. “And I’m glad I feel better, Sir Quentin.” The Chosen quipped with a smile. “What brings you to our humble tent?”

“I wanted to make sure things were going smoothly here. Healing is a most sacred thing after all. Besides I wanted to check on you as well. That was a traumatic experience you had. It shook me and I’m a soldier.”

The Chosen looked down and paused for a moment after hearing the knight’s words. “It was rather unpleasant and dire, yes.” He admitted with a nod. “This was not the first time I have stared down Chtholes, however.” He stated, looking back up at Quentin. “I believe that has made me resilient, though I would not want it to happen again.”

“Yes, it’s a strange thing to get used to isn’t it? But I suppose you’re right as a healer you are likely to have seen your share of gruesome. You showed great bravery however, I’d even say in another life you could have been a fine soldier.”

Saelaam chuckled at that comment. “Perhaps. It’s a vocation with honor, unlike the one I was born to adopt. But fate wanted me to give life it seems, not take it away.” He stated, before looking around at his fellow Chosen doing their best to serve the wounded. “Though, aren’t we all soldiers when our enemy is the darkness?”

“Well said Chosen, well said. I have taken enough of your time though, I do not want to distract from the wounded. I’m sure we will talk again soon. Goodbye for now friend.”

---

From there the Hammer’s commander saw a young man sitting alone in the corner of the clearing. Though he wasn’t exactly alone, rather a massive unmoving beast stood next to him.

“I must say, this is an impressive creature you have with you.” Quentin said as he approached. “I must ask, how did you come by it?”

Hearing the voice coming his way, Syn raised his eyes and lowered the notebook in his hands. The sketch of a new type of rune would have to be left unfinished, for now. “I didn’t come by it anywhere. It’s a golem - I constructed it from scratch by myself.”

“Fascinating… You must be quite a builder my friend. I am Quentin by the way. I’m glad to hear we have someone as talented as you among our ranks.”

“You don’t need to go throwing around flattery, not that I need others to affirm my talent,” Syn replied, folded his arms and leaned back. “Name’s Syn. You’re the one who went and declared that we’re gonna be the new Hammer of Eboris, right? That’s... kind of too big of a thing to just declare ourselves to be as, don’t you think?”

“I am, and I’m sure many will say that. I’m sure as we speak I am being called a traitor or worse. But you saw the demons back there no? It seems that big things are the only logical ones to do right now.”

“I guess if y’think of it that way... Traitor to whom, though? You’re a Shotarr, going outta your way to fight dark magic is kinda your thing anyway. But I mean, I’m not the person to ask about allegiances and the breaking thereof - not when I have none myself.”

“None? There’s no one you’re loyal to?” Quentin asked. “Where are you from? You must be loyal to your home no?”

“I don’t... have a home,” Syn responded bluntly and put down his notebook for good. “I don’t have a nation, home, family, I don’t even have a surname. I used to have a guardian, but... that’s about it. I guess, if I were just a bit more sentimental, I’d call the Golem my family, but that’s really not how this works in practice.”

“Well… I’m sorry to hear that. My family has mostly been my comrades myself. Maybe you’ll be able to find that here.” He told the young man. “Anyway, I didn’t mean to distract you from your work Syn. You’re free to carry on.”

“Nothing to be sorry about, I don’t fret over it myself. And besides, when you start out so low, there’s nothing to do but progress.”

Quentin smiled, “Don’t I know that to be true. Very well Syn, I shall you later.”

---

Quentin approached a uniquely armored man who sat around a fire. His eyes quickly narrowed on the man's sword. It was...unique and Quentin hadn't seen one like it outside the Knights. "Welcome to the hammer soldier, I must ask, that is a unique sword there. Where did you come by it?"

Lud quietly stared at the fire, pondering the day's events when his thoughts were interrupted by the Shotarr Knight he'd seen earlier, inquiring about his blade. "Ah, you're not the first to ask. It was payment from a wealthy noble."

Quentin nodded, still looking at the blade. "Must have been quite the job you completed for them. That is a powerful weapon.I'm sure you've got some great stories to share of wielding it in battle."

"I suppose saving his daughter would qualify. He was very grateful. And it is powerful. Quite so. As for its use in battle, I'd prefer not to brag, and I'd rather not think about fighting at the moment. The day has been quite hectic. I still can't believe the demons are real."

"Ah fair enough. I don't mean to bother you. I'm still struggling with the reality myself. But we find ourselves in times out of storybooks. Destiny calls us to act, so we can do little else."

Lud chuckled and nodded. "Aye, that we do. A time where myths and legends are spawned and written into the annals of history. I apologize if I've not been particularly warm. I rarely stay in one place for a job this long. And no other work has had me dealing with... Demons. By the gods... I consider myself a reasonably strong man. You look the part yourself, but have you ever been.. Afraid? Afraid of things you can't possibly know?"

Quentin chuckled at that question. "You mean like I am right now? I've been afraid ever since I was a peasant boy being marched into battle by some lord waving a flag. But I suppose you get used to it, though this new fear I hope I never get used to."

Lud relaxed a bit, leaning back on his hands. "I usually just deal with the odd bandit and occasional animal, but these... These monsters are something else. I agree with you sir, this is one thing I hope I never come to accept as normal. I'd loathe to live in that world." He said, and sighed. "Is there anything else you'd like to know?"

"That's all for now. Enjoy the fire soldier, and get some rest. We have a good deal of traveling before we reach our destination." With that Quentin headed off to his next destination.

---

Quentin saw an Athelaian guardian resting outside his tent. He seemed to be one of if not the only Athelaian in the crowd. Quentin walked over, trying to ignore that instinct of suspicion that was in the back of his mind. "Hello soldier, I am Sir Quentin. I'm glad to see you have joined us. Though I must say I'm surprised given... well what happened."

Ivaran was busy resting from the battle and planned on keeping to himself when Quentin, the leader of the group walked up to him. He looked up at the human with a tired look on his face, "Today is a day of unexpected events and I... do not know what my kin chose to... you know". Ivaran slowly got up and looked at Quentin, "That answer died with them".

"Hopefully not completely, there's another elf here. Brialya I believe she said her name was. She was a freelander who hid amongst your ranks. I believe she had purpose in doing so but we only spoke briefly. Regardless, I understand the difficulty of being disappointed by one's comrades. It was a dark thing they did, but if you are here with us I trust your intentions are good."

Ivaran raised his brow at the mention of Brialya and what she did. "There was a freelander spy in my kin ranks... that is interesting to know". A freelander spy in their ranks, what was her intentions? Ivaran though was most curious to what her mission was. Though she may not be willing to part with such information. "You can trust me to do my part. If demons are threatening the world then I will not be idling by".

"I am glad to hear that. You Guardians have quite the reputation in battle. And having a purifier among our ranks is likely to come in handy. You're likely aware that you're not to be the most popular person around here for now. If anyone gives you trouble, let me know. We'll have no time for petty rivalries if we are to end this threat we face."

"I would not be surprised if someone here thinks ill of me after what happened today. Which is why I plan on keeping to myself tonight. Better that way and sure, I will let you know if anyone ... is unwilling to work with me to kill the demons". Ivaran looked around the rest of the camp and while most were busy doing their own things, he could see some glares pointed his way.

Quentin nodded at that. "Very well, I will leave you to your solitude then soldier. It was good meeting you, I'm sure we'll be seeing more of each other soon enough."

---

A Goliath sat around a fire, and was soon approached by the man that was now the leader of the Knights of Shotarr. "Hello there, I don't believe we have been introduced. I am Sir Quentin of the Knights of Shotarr. It is nice to meet you."

The goliath looks the man over. Clad in armor. Clean shaven. He was high, high above her in status. Likely higher than anyone she'd met before. The fact that he was approaching her was enough to garner suspicion. She stood up and bowed, such that his head and hers were on the same level. "My name is Werakoya Eyeketrau, milord. What is the nature of your visit?"

"I like to know the people under my command Werakoya. And since you've agreed to come with us that includes you. May I ask, why is it you decided to join us?"

"Um... yessir... I..."

"The pay was good" probably wasn't an appropriate response to someone who could likely be her boss's boss's boss. This man didn't look like the type who cared much about money, anyways. Probably was also the type who could see through a lie. Think, Wera, think. "I've met a lot of new friends here... It's nice to get some fresh air while working, you know? And, and I do think that what we're doing is very important, sir! So it's not just that the pay is goo- damnit."

Quentin chuckled gently. "It's fine to admit you want to be, paid soldier. But I am glad to hear you have other motivations as well. I have a feeling before all is done all the gold in the world won't be enough to justify what we will face." He said, his tone turning a bit grim. "Sorry, no need to be grim. I am glad to have you among us Werakoya."

"And I'm glad to have you among us too, sir!... Uh... Sorry, sir. Say, sir. It looks like we're about to face a lot more combat in the near future. I was brought on to help with the traps and the trapping. I don't know how much help I'll be for the party anymore, and I know what happens to workers who aren't helpful. Is there anything else I can do to earn my keep?"

"Worry not, I'm sure there'll be plenty of work to go around when we arrive at my fortress. Besides, someone who deals with traps is likely to come in handy. For now just rest, we have a lot of traveling to do the next few days. Well, I have others I should talk to Werakoya, but it was pleasant speaking to you."

"And to you sir. Thank you, sir. Have a nice day, milord."

---

Quentin then saw a knight clad in elegant black armor. He recognized her as the Repentant who reluctantly joined his cause. She was resting now sitting by a fire and the Knight of Shotarr sat down next to her.

“Good evening my lady, I wanted to thank you for joining us. From what I’ve heard you did some incredible things back there against the demons. I am honored to have someone so skilled amongst us.” He said, knowing he wasn’t likely to get the warmest reception.

“Of course. After all, such deeds are bound to reflect nicely upon our self-appointed commander, are they not?” Chrysanthea replied, turning away from the fire to look at Quentin, her gaze lingering on his face for several moments. “There is no need to thank me. The Keeper brought me here to stop the demon horde, and that is what I will do. The good people of Eboris will never rest easy otherwise.”

“You are right about that. It seems we are aligned in our goals. Yet I can’t help but feel that you do not like me my lady. If I’ve done something to offend you I apologize.”

Chryssa chuckled softly. “You have quite silver tongue, don’t you, my lord?” She stated. “I suppose it is unfair of me to assume you are like your brethren, but I have never liked your kind, knight. Too self-serving. Too absorbed in the glories of great quests and warfare to care about the small folk.” She explained, before turning back to the fire.

“We’ll see, you may yet prove me wrong.” She said, stealing a glance at him. “I would enjoy that, I think.”

Quentin offered a small smile of his own. “I would enjoy that as well. I understand my fellow knights have not always acted honorably. But I believe that change is always possible. Is that not what Datune teaches us? My order serves a righteous cause, that we do that poorly sometimes proves only that we are human I suppose.”

“Yes, I suppose.” The Repentant admitted. “I’ll be sure to make it up to you if you subvert my expectations, Sir.” She told him. “May I know your name? It would reflect poorly if I did not even know my commander’s name.”

“Quentin, Quentin Raeden, and please call me that instead of sir. May I know your name, my lady? It seems even more poor a reflection for me to not know the brave knights that serve under me.”

The knight in black laughed softly yet again. “Of course, my lord. My name is Chrysanthea. You may call me Chryssa if you wish, but only if you continue talking so smoothly.”

The Knight of Shotarr smiled in response, taking a glance at the other knight. He found himself wondering what she looked like under her helmet. “That sounds like a fair deal, Chryssa. Well, I’ve bothered you enough for now. I shall see you later I’m sure, goodnight.”

---

The Knight saw a familiar trio sitting together around their tents. It was the mage, healer, and beastfolk he had met from before. "Hello there all of you. Essie I hope you're feeling better. I'm sure that was a... trying experience. And Vissra, I appreciate what you said back there at the temple. The callousness of some was truly appalling. There are some wounded being helped by the Chosen if you care to aid them. I'm sure they would appreciate the help."

He then turned to Firethroat. "And you, it's certainly comforting to have a dragon among us. I hope though that we may have at least some time until your services are truly needed."

Vissra took off her mask and gave Quentin a smile: "I thank you, sir...and it's no problem, I told them what they needed to hear." She hoisted her black bag over her shoulder when he said there were wounded that needed tending to, and walked toward them. Essie gave Quentin a piercing look. "Well yeah, it was...rough. But you know what, I'll be okay. We got bigger fish to fry at the moment, and I'm not dead so at least I got that going for me. Thanks for your help and all, I appreciate it." Firethroat smiled at the group, turning to Sir Quentin. "Not a problem. I hope that I won't have to use my full might either, but I did start this journey in order to aid my homeland. Turns out that I'm doing that by helping to save the world."

Quentin smiled at Essie, "It was a pleasure to help and I'm glad you'll be joining us on our quest to set things right. I know you were among the nobility of Dascus but may I ask what your title is? I'm curious how someone so young was sent on such a dangerous mission."

Quentin then nodded to Firethroat. "It does seem strange, that our goals and personal desires seem trumped by such a danger threatening us all. But I wish more were able to put nationality and personal allegiance aside in face of such a crisis."

"I'm the apprentice to the Royal Sorcerer, so I'll be taking over when he retires. I'm also an advisor to King Adrian, he didn't wish me to go on this mission at first but I eventually convinced him."

Firethroat smiled back: "If it spreads to even one land, it'll spread to them all like a cancer and won't stop until it's consumed everything, I can't let that happen."

"I understand wanting to be on the front lines of things my lady. That is certainly an important position you will one day hold. I'm sure you will serve your king well." Quentin said kindly before turning to Firethroat. "We are of one mind there sir. Whatever is happening here cannot be allowed to continue."

With that the knight bid the pair a farewell and continued on through the camp.

Brialya
The Faithful had set up a modest camp for herself and then headed off into the woods to ditch that annoying golden armor. She took it back with her and stuffed it away in her tent. She changed into leather armor that she wore under blue robes. She took some salted meat and bread out of her pack and ate a small meal by herself. With that done she headed out to find a specific person, the Guardian. He was the only Athelaian that had joined them and she wanted to know what happened back there. She found him sitting outside his tent and approached him. She didn't like Athelaians but he hadn't tried to kill anyone at the temple so that was something.

"You there Guardian, can I have a word. I want to know how exactly you ended up with a group of cultists, and if you learned anything while you traveled with them." Her eyes had almost a piercing quality but he tone was pleasant enough.

Dulen
Meanwhile after having talked to Quentin, Dulen took a seat on a stump in front of a fire. A soldier had been kind enough to hunt down a dear for them and now people stood around eagerly awaiting it to cook. Dulen meanwhile was writing notes in his book, trying to figure out how exactly he was supposed to describe what he had seen. People need to know, but will they really want to know? He thought to himself as he wrote. He suddenly had the urge to sign a song again, though this one not nearly as blasphemous.

"Shadows fall
And hope has fled.
Steel your heart
The dawn will come.
The night is long
And the path is dark
Look to the sky
For one day soon
The dawn will come."

A few people around him joined in, it was an old Pantheon song that was likely to be recognized by most across the continent. He smiled when others applauded him when they finished the song. Well at least I can do some good here.

Yasema
Yasema had seen the show Dulen put on and smiled though she didn't join in herself. She was sitting quietly in a meditative pose. No one had approached her so far. They were likely afraid. She didn't blame them, she had been at first herself. She wasn't here for companionship or for adventure though. She had a mission and she would see it through. She considered speaking to Quentin but thought against it. The less he knew the better. For now she would sit quietly if others wanted to speak to her they would surely approach.

[Theyra]

Ivaran Miaris

"Ah, another guest, and yes you can have a word with me", Ivaran said calmly. He was just in the middle of eating some food and had taken off his armor when the Hurelan arrived. Putting his food away and got up. He was not expecting anyone else to approach him and given what she is asking. She may be the spy that Quentin told him about. "I do not know what you mean by cultists and you are going to have explained that to me before I tell you anything about these cultists". Ivaran crossed his arms and got a good look at her. Maybe she will tell him what she was after and why she was in the Athelaian contingent.

But cultists? Does she mean the Athelaian contingent he was assigned to? They seemed normal to him though they did get strange when they were coming to the temple. And then when they were waiting for the group inside to explore the temple. Like with that one soldier he talked to that was impatient. Perhaps he was eager to turn to follow orders and turn on the others when it was time to do so. But, if he was assigned to a group of cultists then what do they worship and what are they after? Ivaran wondered and it seems maybe he can get some answers from her.

[Sil Arion]

KARRNA

Bare feet whispered over mossy stone and leafy floor as Karrna followed the trail at a loping pace, the quiet calls of nightingales echoing in the canopy above. The scents of his quarry still lay heavy on the gentle night wind, and sign of their passing remained plain upon the forest around him. Twenty-odd humans. Handful of elves. A few goliaths. And several Thalari, including at least one each an Ar’el, Ga’el, Hoo’el, Ko’el, Pter’el, Shi’el, Tyr’el. Little more than thirty creatures, an estimate in line with the intelligence he gleaned from questioning the survivors of that sorrowful affair at the temple now hours behind him. Perhaps he should’ve stayed and given more aid. But the fight moved elsewhere now and he couldn’t—

No. Not yet.

Karrna inhaled deeply, sampling again the air, parsing through the smells. Yes. Same composition. And growing thicker. Glances about his forward arc confirmed his suspicions—the scuffs on the moss and snapped stems were more recent, less than an hour old. He was near. Likely a camp, given the hour and number of humans who oft fared poorly in the dark without certain magics.

A motley band these sworn to the reborn Hammer of Eboris. Perhaps he’d find a place among them too.

His ears flicked, rotating about as faint sounds unnatural to the forest reached him as slowed his pace.

Speech. Likely the common tongue by its rhythm and phonemes. Too many and mixed to truly listen in though. Hm. Near a hundred yards distant then. He should be able to hear the sentries any—

There.

His eyes tracked the sound his ears localized—soft breathing twenty yards distant and ten up to the northwest. Karrna contracted his larynx and clicked his tongue for a beat of his heart. Another beat and he saw an image form in his mind’s eye—an elf, based on their ears and slender body, and wielding a nocked bow as it sat astride a great bough in a tree there. Clearly a watchful one. He smiled. Perhaps these were a motley and skilled band. That bode well.

He changed his pace, letting his footsteps become more solid, louder.

“Halt!” a melodic yet dour voice ordered. He heard the bow draw taught. “Identify yourself!”

“Greetings,” Karrna replied politely as he halted, hands raised in peace, “I am Karrna, an associate of Oadot’s Chosen and the Knights Repentant.” There was a low whistle like a nightingale’s call from the tree ahead where the elf sat. An answering call echoed from thirty yards northwest. Clever.

“State your business,” the elf commanded, tone notably soured. Soft footsteps murmured across the forest canopy from where that answering call came.

“I am here to join the Hammer reborn,” he answered, letting optimism color his tone. No reply from the elf at that. He continued, “My preceptors heard of the harrowing that befell the expedition and what we all now face. I was sent to assist in the quest to stop the demons given my skill at Purification.”

“You may approach slowly.” A brief silence as the footsteps above now stopped near him as the elf spoke sardonically, “Though know I will shoot to kill if you make any aggressive moves.” Karrna didn’t need night vision or echolocation to know the elf was smirking—all teeth and no kindness.

“As you will,” Karrna stated gently, walking forward with staff in hand and he ruthlessly crushed the urge to chuckle. Behind him, the second elf landed with languid grace and nocked bow pointed at his back.

“I will,” declared the second elf with mocking lilt, gesturing with her chin towards the sounds of speech he’d heard before. “This way.” She kept her distance from him as they advanced—just over ten yards. More than he could cross before she loosed her bow, but he’d—

No. Focus.

Barely ten yards more, and Karrn saw the edge of the camp. Low-burning fires cast long shadows from folk circled around them, and from the rows of tents lining the banks of the stream which flowed through the clearing. As he stepped onto the well-trodden grass, aromas of food and drink assailed him—vegetable stews, dried fruits and meats, and something stronger—spices. Southern spices. Curious. Many heads turned as he entered the camp proper under escort. Perhaps it was his stature or the hour he arrived. Or simply nerves, given all that transpired this day. He subtly counted and noted the folks present. His intelligence was accurate; near thirty, and as expected in terms of racial breakdown. Something not unlike giddiness surged in his breast at the sight of fellow Thalari, but he swiftly crushed that too. There was no telling how they might react to his introduction. No need to build expectations for nothing.

“Sir Quentin,” his escort called, “We’ve a—captivating guest. Says he was invited but I don’t remember seeing any invitation.” From between those mingling stepped a human male with tanned skin, his dark hair and beard neatly trimmed and streaked with grey. Tall and solidly built for a human—near Karrna’s chest. A veteran knight from his looks and bearing, much less the damirite blade he bore.

“Greetings,” Karrna offered once more, bowing low at the waist before meeting the man’s gaze with a soft smile. “I am Karrna, and I was sent by the Orders of Oadot’s Chosen and the Knights Repentant to assist in your endeavor.”

[Galnius]

Tenna

Tenna had no idea what the Hammer of Eboris was, or why she should join, so at first she was a little tentative. However, one thing kept springing into her mind, festering and boiling. Those...creatures. The knight had called them demons, and if he was right they would be popping up all over the place. Even in Tashar, endangering what she considered her family. With that knowledge, and the knowledge that she may find something she could bring back, she resigned her doubts and joined them with a simple nod.

Thus, she walked beside the others in her motley crew, and eventually made camp. Beside, though, as opposed to with. She doubted anyone knew of her allegiances, but mercenaries could easily surprise her. Her status as a Street Crawler was best kept secret, so she had taken to presenting the falsified papers of a nobleman's servant whenever asked where she was from. Still, the questions made her uneasy, and she distanced herself as much as she could.

Tenna did have one way to make distancing all the easier in previous missions, and she immediately put it into action. That is, find a strange person, make yourself seem close to them, create a bubble of familiarity that most dared not to intrude on. It was for this reason that she approached the man with the metal giant, a golem he called it, after the seeming leader of the group had left. She didn't do too much, but simply sat beside him, food in one hand and alcohol in the other. And, after a few minutes of silence, she simply raised her drink in offering. An invitation to conversation no one would mistake.

---

Ella

There was a late arrival amongst the ranks of the Hammer. She had not intended to join them, and honestly had no clue what was going on. Her travels had been easy, calm, and rather peaceful. She had found the encampment on accident, though she was happy she had. There was one of the people she had hired to run into there, singing a most familiar melody.

"Dulen, you old dog, don't tell me you are caravaning without me!" Ella called out, decidedly drunk, and joined the area that was growing around them. "That's not really fair. I thought we had a routine for this. You bring the stories, someone else brings the music, and I being the merriment. So, what is this? Pretty weaponized for a pilgrimage, but too small for an army. Though I must say, looks like most of these folks could use some cheerin' up."

Ella removed a keg from her back as well as a few smaller pouches. "While I have a bit of a head start, would you do the honors of choosing who here gets the first cup?"

[Finland SSR]

Syn of Ashar

---

Now that Quentin left him alone, Syn once again picked up his notebook and returned to his work. After recalling where his train of thought left off - the glyphs and drawings needed for a new rune his mind thought up - the runesmith continued drawing, with a pencil and a wooden ruler at hand. Throughout the past few weeks, away from unwanted eyes, Syn had been testing a selective assortment of strength enchantment runes, each one with their own peculiar method of drawing out Magika, to disassemble their glyphs, test them individually, and see which ones are the most useful.

The culmination of that work would be a new type of strength enchantment rune, composed of the most useful glyphs and tuned to the needs of a Golem. The creation of new runes was far from an easy task, requiring the highest precision possible - so, Syn focused all of his mind onto the task, placing the ruler with a milimeter's precision to draw new connecting lines for the sketch.

So he didn't even notice that someone else has just approached him, only the scent of a glass of beer offered towards him got him to notice that there was a girl standing next to him. The white haired elf he briefly noticed during the battle, huddled up with Brialya and saved from the jaws of a bull demon by his Golem. Turns out she survived...

"Thanks." Syn mumbled under his breath and accepted the glass. That's gotta be the second time he's been interrupted... but the runesmith figured that he'd manage. "Name's Syn... if you were gonna ask that. And since I assume you're also here to ask about the Golem, I built it myself, I didn't find it in the wild."

[Tomia]

Brialya
Brialya raised an eyebrow at the Guardian who seemed to deny any involvement with the plot that had gone on. "So you spent all that time with those men and didn't know what they were up to?" She said in a skeptical tone. "But fine, I'll play your game. Those men were following some called the Purifier, the name ring any bells? He's some corrupt higher up in Athela. I thought that he was just the typical officer, killing people for sport or for political gain. But I interrogated the commander back there at the temple and he revealed there was something much more nefarious going on. They released those demons on purpose. I don't know why or how they even knew they existed. You're telling me you had no idea about any of this?"

Dulen
Dulen watched as another one of his fellow Merry Men came stumbling into the camp. He recognized the woman as Ella. Oh boy, as if today wasn't crazy enough. "Ah if it isn't my favorite drunkard." Dulen said fondly as Ella approached. "Never expected to see you this far from an ale house Ella. But you're right this isn't a typical merry venture. In fact, the world has kind of gone to shit..." He took the next few minutes to explain to her what happened. The expedition to the temple, the betrayal of that expedition by the elves and finally the arrival of the demons.

"It was right out of the stories Ella I swear on Benthoral's grapes. They didn't even bleed real blood. They bled fire and lava. They were monsters straight from the underworld... Anyway what you see here before you are the survivors of the expedition or most of them at least. We're following a Knight of Shotarr. His name is Quentin, good man by the way. He declared the Hammer of Eboris to be re-established if you can believe that. We're heading to his fortress now." He said, sighing deeply when he finished the story. "I think I'll take that drink right about now Ella."

Quentin
Quentin was back at his tent by the time Karrna was brought to him. He raised a skeptical eyebrow when the beastfolk said that he was sent by the Chosen and the Repentant to aid the hammer. It had only been a matter of hours since they had left the temple. Word must have been spreading quicker than he had thought. "Leave him be." Quentin said to the guards who returned back to their posts. "You say you were sent here? I'm surprised to honest but I certainly can't complain. We won't be lacking for enemies in the coming days and so we have to take all the allies we can. Your fellow Chosen are here if you wish go help them with the wounded. But before you go let me ask, what were you told of our situation?"

[Sil Arion]

KARRNA

He listened as Sir Quentin spoke—half an ear to the man himself, another to the dozen other conversations in the small encampment. Too many to attend any in full, so tuning his mind for keywords sufficed. One caught his attention—that of an elf-maid all but interrogating a lone Guardian. Purity. Corruption. Athela. Nefarious schemes and releasing demons on purpose? That bode ill. And he knew of no such corruption or conspiracy when last visiting Athela or training with the Guardians abroad—though that was a near decade past now. Not long enough for so grand a design to develop in secret. Perhaps he missed the signs. Or more like, it was confined to a select few whom he never met. But to what end? And whom else was—

Hm. A question from Sir Quentin.

“I heard the expedition fared poorly,” began Karrna, face and tone solemn. “I arrived first at the temple and spoke with the survivors as I investigated the site. A party of Athelaians—but not all of their number—betrayed the international concord and removed the relic hammer from its altar, resulting in a demonic incursion. The expedition sustained severe casualties but succeeded in stopping the incursion here. You refounded the Hammer of Eboris and an attending Keeper of the Glass declared the seal on the demons’ prison is broken—and more incursions will occur across the continent. But many survivors remained skeptical of the events and your motives despite some great and terrible scheme obviously afoot to end our world.” He smiled softly then, eyes crinkling. “I am not them. I believe you.”

With a nod at Sir Quentin, Karrna spun on a heel and loped over to the elf-maid interrogating the Guardian.

“Greetings,” he spoke softly, posture loose and expression peaceable as he settled fluidly into a seated position, legs crossed, between and slightly aside the elf-maid and Guardian he towered over even then. “I overheard bits of your talk—” nodding respectfully at the elf-maid “—and find myself curious as to the extent and end of this secret plot,” he finished, nodding at the Guardian with imploring eyes.