Beyond Light's Reach (IC)

[Finland SSR]

In the Temple

Theodor Arnulfsson / Riki Farinhait

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The Shotarr and their allies did not stand alone against demons for long. Soon, reinforcements arrived from up the stairs, many of them warriors from Tashar, striking the demon forces from behind and surrounding them. Theo remained in the front lines, using his shield to push back the swarm before they could push past and impaling one after the other, while his fiery boon did its work as well. As soon as the last of the demons fell to the floor, the Dragon Killer spun the weapon in his hand and stood down, watching Quentin announce himself and request support in this common struggle, at which point several of their comrades stood to introduce themselves, some with flowery descriptions of who they are and why they agree to help, others simply explaining anything they know about the situation outside.

Theo's introduction was simple as well.

"I am Theodor, son of Arnulf. Representing the Order of Evruin, at your service, Sir Quentin."

There was a rainbow assortment of personalities who chose to join their ranks. Quentin and his men represented the Knights of Shotarr, Theo was here from the Dragon Killers, they had Elves, Dascians and Tasharen alike choosing to follow, a few beastfolk like the mountain of muscle of fur which called itself Prax and the scrawny young birdfolk who had gotten to trouble earlier. Even a woman which seemed to be... hardly alive, with a legion of undead minions at her disposal. So a necromancer, then...

And, though he wasn't aware of that just yet, there was an another one just outside of the Temple. Riki remained in the foliage of the trees, cloaked in his pitch black cloak and watching the skirmish before his eyes. However, with the focus of the demon horde pretty much dead set on the fleeing Hercynian beastfolk, he might as well have stood in the open and he likely wouldn't have gotten scathed even once.

"Door's closed..." the necromancer muttered under his breath as the heavy stone doors closed shut, leaving the horde of demons scratching, gnawing and striking at the walls. All sorts of spells from the corrupted mages among their ranks shot out at the door, such as balls of fire, ice attacks, and magical arrows. At this point, Riki was convinced that the abominations among the demons once used to be mages, or at least were not natural demons. No normal demon displayed an ability to wield magic, these abominations were nowhere to be seen when the battle began and only started popping up as the fight progressed.

Which meant that a mage such as himself had to be wary of engaging the demons head-on, not that Riki was ever planning to do that. However... the Hercynians left him plenty of material to work with. Pulling out his engraved knife, the necromancer started drawing on the trunk of the tree he had been hiding behind, finishing off a pentagram surrounded by a square, placing his hand upon it and muttering:

"Santa Datune, Mundu Ama
erregutu ezazu gu bekatarion alde
orain eta gure heriotzako orduan."

Suddenly, chaos started to erupt among the demon ranks, as their fallen comrades and enemies alike would start to rise from the dead and immediately attack the living. The horde had made the mistake of standing in the corpses of their former brethren, and their assault upon the front door came to a halt. Riki stared to the ongoing chaotic battle for a few seconds and then to his glowing arm to assess the result, then turned towards Clive.

"I assume you're not the type to charge at a horde alone, correct? If you have anything ranged with you, that would surely help..."

[Zarkenis Ultima]

Saelaam of Trelia
Haden Hill Temple

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Suddenly, as he and Sampson's guard continued to e locked in a standoff, a person he hadn't seen before - a fellow Thalari it seemed, of the thal'gol variety - rushed towards him, grabbing his arm and quickly undoing his grip on the relic. Saelaam cursed as he saw the hammer fall to the ground and then get snatched by the catfolk, who ran off, claiming to be working for the bank. Those filthy shylocks! Making profit off the suffering of thousands! Thought the priest of Oadot, preparing to go after him only to stop as he saw the predicament that Arwin had gotten himself into - facing a demon that had slipped past the frontlines, all on his own.

Fortunately for everyone involved, the bank agent managed to dispatch the demon, and then promptly crashed into one of Quentin's men and dropped the hammer.

Serves you right.

Saelaam took a few steps forward and pointed a finger at the hammer. "Afel." He uttered, and the relic disappeared from its place in the ground, only to reappear directly in the cleric's now open hand. He glared at Arwin for a moment before noticing that Quentin and his Knights had finished dealing with the demons who had invaded the temple - he was now motioning for the others to follow him upstairs. Saelaam nodded at the Knight Commander and then glanced at Sampson's guard.

"Make yourself useful and watch that thief." He stated, before turning back to Quentin. "Ara fel alak." He spoke as he took a step forward. The second his foot touched the ground again, he was standing next to the Knight of Shotarr and followed him upstairs, listening as he spoke up to rally the troops of the various armies that had gathered there and request information to try to gain an understanding of what was going on. He had little to add to that, having been in the temple when the incident began, and so, he went around offering his talents to the survivors of the battle - appropriate treatment would have to wait until after they had dealt with the demons, assuming they survived that, but for now, he could aid the soldiers by relieving pain and stopping hemorrhages.

As he did his best to help, Saelaam overheard a girl, an adolescent by the looks of it, suggest that the demons were coming from portals and then offered her assistance. The young man frowned at this. "The frontlines are no place for an apprentice mage..." He muttered, though he neglected to say anything more. Ideally, none of them would be in this situation, but now... he figured they would need all the manpower they could get.

Suddenly, a man in a strange outfit with a large hat stepped in accompanied by a Tasharen warmage, confirming the young apprentice's theory that the demons were coming from portals and indicating that there were multiple ones at the bottom of tunnels that opened up on the battlefield. It was good information, but Saelaam was more concerned with the state the man had arrived in - he was clearly wounded and dazed. The cleric walked up to him and offered a friendly smile. "You look pretty beat up, let me help you." He said, nodding at the woman accompanying him. With her aid, he got Archeno to sit down on one of the stone steps.

"Archeno, you said, right? The storyteller?" He asked, making small talk to distract the man from his wounds. "A colleague of mine once went to see you when you came to Trelia." He explained. While waiting for a reply, he placed his free hand close to Archeno's body and began muttering ancient words, prayers to the Lady of the Moon, a plea for her to restore that man's health.

[Ihsalihna]

Sayyida ul h'Ehlam
Pleased to Make Your Acquaintance

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"Well... You certainly aren't crazy, miss."

A brief smile tugged at her mouth beneath the veil, though it was short lived. For all that her casual joking tone carried she couldn't quite keep her heart from pounding in her chest — all this was wrong, all this was spelling the doom of the world. Had the Gods abandoned them? Surely not, but...

Sayyida followed the man's gaze, noting his knuckles whiting as he gripped his staff. Within her two conflicting emotions mixed, like venom and honey, a combination of paralyzing fear and immense wonder and fascination she couldn't shake even in the face of such horrifying reality. Was she looking upon the end of the world? She had never seen a battle like, never imagined it — watching dragons dive into masses of screaming, boiling men, hearing the collective cries of bloodlust, pain, death and despair of thousands upon thousands of men and women...

The merchant narrowed her eyes at a sound and glanced aside in time with the stranger — she should not have dropped her guard in a place like this, not now. She was lucky to even have a chance to react; she inhaled the brimstone and watched an imp-like demon lagging behind the rest dragging its foul butcher's weapon out of a camp-follower, an innocent woman caught up in their honourless looting. One glance at the twisted, grotesque faces and she knew instantly this wasn't a dream. Only the nightmare of reality.

"Oadot protect us from the perils we face," she breathed softly. The second the quiet prayer had passed by her lips the daemons let out an inhuman scream that sent shivers down her spine, her hand slipping instinctively into her silks — she was rewarded with the reassuring feeling of a hilt, and glanced backwards to ensure they had space to retreat - no tents to get tangled in like fish caught in a net, easy prey for a hunter's spear - before she turned to leap over a discarded cooking pit and spun in a whirl of robes to keep pace walking backwards behind the stranger, legs bent in readiness as she watched him set to work with wide eyes.

She took it as a sign of her prayer being heard that she was lucky enough to see the man in action, even despite being obviously taken off guard - magical playing cards, she noted with fascination and wonder, zipped through the air like arrows, no, more like gleaming flurries of small birds plunging into the foe... however fanciful the concept seemed she watched attentively as the cards found their marks and cut apart the daemonic interlopers as easily as a blade passing through the wings of a butterfly. She watched a shield splinter as if an invisible giant's club had glanced it, before an explosion of glimmering ice enveloped the unholy things — but even with this remarkable display the daemons were advancing.

Sayyida looked at the man, catching his eye among the whirl of his staff and the lunging blows of the imps - his smile and request for aid finally pushed aside what remained of her inhibiting fear. This wasn't any time to doubt, or question the intentions of the gods - only action would be seen as righteous in the face of death. Or, rather, only action would keep her from being butchered where she stood.

Two glimmering steel lengths flashed in the dim light filtering through the stormclouds above, and the modest merchant woman was suddenly plunging nearly a foot of gleaming steel into a daemon's skull, the blades seemingly extending from her very arms — she spun and punched forward again, splitting a daemon's pitifully ungodly face in twain before drawing back with a shower of glowing ichor. Sayyida blinked once, her blue eyes wide and as cold as ice as she drew in all the knowledge of her surroundings as calmly as one would pursue a library. "Who are we to deny assistance to a kind stranger?" she asked herself softly, back-stepping in time with Traven and lifting her katars defensively, the exotic weapons dripping with daemon's blood.

She leap forward in time with him to resume the attack - "Var Ihlām!" came a cold warcry from her lips, surprising herself at the bloodthirst in her veins, adrenaline running through her as she faced down the shield of an imp. Her katar split open like a metal flower, jerking sideways to catch the edge of the creature's shield between the blades — Sayyida twisted her body out of the way of the thing's cleaver, the daemonic steel brushing against nothing but her robe as she pried his shield arm down and punched her weapon into the vermin's neck.

It had been awhile since she'd last had to fight for her life, and she was glad to have had another person with her to remind her not to hesitate — this was no time to be alone, here, facing what seemed to be the end. Her fear pushed aside, her anxieties for now channeled into the fire running through her nerve endings, she would fight to the death if need be. Or... or maybe run. All she was fighting at the moment were a horde of diminutive daemonspawn, so she hadn't many doubts but in the end she was courageous, not idiotic.

For now though, she liked their odds - a gambler and a merchant together knew far more of Fate and chance than these vermin. Sayyida cried out "Vahid!" and raised a hand, slipping her fingers from the grips of her katar and plunging her now free hand into her cloak as her pet serpent lunged up and caught the free-falling weapon in his teeth. Her fingers slipped into the fabric about her waist and produced a large phoenix-feather quill, it's tip seeming to ignite against the air with a sound like flint striking, and in an instant she began scrawling the feather through the air in a bewildering series of arcs, tracing out flowing and overlapping runes and glyphs in the air before her as she walked backwards, the three daemons facing her down reeling back to avoiding the burning, bewildering hovering flames. Cautiously sweeping their weapons through the lines only produced showers of sparks and embers that blinded them further and seeded doubts in their mind.

The second one of the imps gathered enough courage to step forward into the burning, sparking calligraphy and lunge forward with his sword to try and skewer her, Sayyida caught the point of his weapon between the blades of her katar, twisting her wrist and yanking the daemon forward. Pulling him through the weaving fires to blind him before producing one of her black daggers, she put out his eyes with two firm strikes. Drawing the knife free, she looked up to see the other two daemons barreling through the cloud of burning calligraphy runes and snapped her fingers, causing the magic glyphs to explode in a shower of blinding sparks and stinging noise that added their screams to those of the dying, eyeless one crumpling to the dirt beside her.

She stepped back after mercilessly punching her blades into their throats, katar in one hand and her knife raised in the other with her quill tucked between two fingers, and bumping without realizing it into Traven's back. She glanced over her shoulder and looked up at the taller human, panting softly as she realized... things were a bit quieter now.

"That's all of them?" She looked around, still panting for breath as she relaxed slightly and looked at the disgusting imps littering the ground around them, their strange glimmer blood flooding into the depressions made by boot prints and cart tracks in the mud. "By the Seven Hells..."

Sayyida steadied her breathing and politely stepped away from Traven's back, closing the blades of her katar and slipped it back into her robes along with her other items. "It isn't safe here," she said quickly. "We need to get away from here, as far away as possible, before..."

"Wait... No." Sayyida had turned away but now looked back at the man, noting he was about her age. She cocked her head slightly and watched him in a strange way, almost looking through him - or into him - as she spoke quietly. "No. That's not how these things go, is it..? We could run, yes, but... this isn't something we can run from. This is not just Haden Hill any longer. This is all of Eboris now. This is legend now, written before our eyes."

"In the old legends people never ran away... or at least if they did so they didn't live long. But the temple... the temple is the test, where we'll find answers, maybe a way to stop this."

Sayyida's eyes shifted slightly and once more she was looking at Traven, not through him. "The Gods are watching, and that temple is where their eyes turn. You have heard the story, have you not? The Daemonic Wars and how they were ended? People do not lock up an ancient evil beneath something like that without... without giving us a way to stop it again. Trust us, we know old temples - may have accidentally almost set in motion an ancient prophecy or... or maybe two during our time - but that is not the story we live in right now."

The woman turned back to face him and drew closer, watching his face as she allowed a serpent to lazily wind its way around her shoulders. Vahid's tongue flicked the air as he watched Traven with the same scrutiny as his master - though perhaps a degree more unnerving. He lacked eyelids.

"Our Fate... is instructed by the heavens now, and there is no running from this. Do we agree? We must find a way there."

[Zarkenis Ultima]

Neferis Lahari
Haden Hill

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Ignoring the female Ko'el's attempt to taunt her, the great grey wolf continued running on towards the temple. Dozens and dozens of demons lay dead in a magma trail behind her, felled by her claws and her fangs, their bodies rent, torn and burned to cinders with flames that burned hotter than those controlled by common mages, walls of the stuff erected around the battlefield in order to hold the demonic tides at bay. Carving a path through their ranks had not been too difficult... but it had also not been without cost. Her hide bore scores of nasty scratches and marks where their weapons had reached her, dealing glancing blows to the racing Thalari. There were a handful of places where the nightmarish steel that the demons' weapons were forged from had succeeded in piercing her stone-like hide, blood streaming out of them and painting red lines across her fur.

As the combined group of Eshonies and Hercynians she was aiding made it to the temple steps, she rose to the entrance and then focused for a moment, returning to her human form. She breathed heavy, weary not just from the mad charge she had led towards the temple, but from the carnage that she had participated in before then. Her body was being pushed to its limits, and the magic she wielded through Qrodia's tears played a big part in it, as the magika required to use it as extensively as she had could not be supplied by the sun alone - it borrowed from her life force as well, threatening to wear her out quickly.

Taking a moment to catch her breath and recover some energy, the Antoran found herself surprised by the Hercynian captain's hostile approach, buckling ever so slightly and snarling at her in return. Arrogant bitch. She thought, but opted to let it slide - if the Hercynians had a death wish, then so be it. Turning back to the temple and leaving the winged folk to die on its steps, Neferis glanced at the apparent leader of the Eshonie tribesmen, a tall man in his own right, who seemed to have lost an eye in the struggle. A loss I know all too well. She thought, the black, red and gold cloth she wore on her face hiding the absence left by the eye she'd lost in service to the Foresters.

"I hope you've got better manners than our friendly bird-brain allies." She spoke, before heading into the temple.

Once inside, she let out a sigh of relief. Safe haven, for now. She thought, looking down to inspect her wounds. Drenched as she was in demon blood, however, it was no use - the only injury she could see was a nasty gash running down her thigh that was quickly seared shut with a stream of white-hot fire from her hand. It hurt, yes, but it was the only practical solution available at the moment.

Before long, the Hercynians returned and closed the temple's large stone doors, leaving the demons outside but locking them inside with whatever may lurk within the ancient temple. Hearing the so-called Dragoness speak, Neferis scoffed.

"You didn't seem very grateful back there." She said, crossing her arms. "I suppose I'll add it to my long list of regrets."

After a moment of staring her down, the Shi'el leaned back against the wall. "I am Neferis of the Lahari Dynasty of Amarkar, champion of the Holy Order of Fire." She said at last. She doubted her lineage mattered at all to these people, but it mattered not - it was her pride, even this far from home.

Suddenly, her ears perked up, and she looked down the narrow hallway that led deeper into the temple. "Someone's coming..."

[Aidannadia]

Food was prepared after another long day for the Thalari tribe.

Badar took a glance over to Vega, apparently reliving his war stories with a few of his followers. When the chief sat down, Vega took a more respectful position, but was still eagerly speaking to some of the nearby posse. Badar played with his food, nervous for his friend. While Vega was no doubt the strongest Thalari the tribe had ever seen, but the chieftain was experienced and guileful. He'd no doubt have anticipated that Vega would one day challenge him, and has devised a counter strategy. Badar considered under what circumstances he'd want to face Vega.... Well, in a duel of bows, I'd certainly win, but the others find that cowardly. A chieftain needs to maintain an image. He'd need to make it look like an even fight.... so he must rely on his speed and experience to carry him through the fight. Vega can leave himself open to retaliation if he overextends. What if he messes up... what if... Badar's thoughts quieted when Vega gave him a thumbs up from across the feast area.

That was when the food came. The third wife of the chief was the one who brought me my food. "Hello, Vera. How are you?" Badar spoke to her as she served the food. A few nearby men seemed to tense up at my asking, but Vera was Vega's younger sister. They had grown up together. It was not wrong to address her.

The girl smiled. "Well." She simply said, perhaps her tact getting the better of her. She was a sweet girl, but she was no fool. To speak to Badar was a mark of shame for most. He did not blame her.

Badar turned to see the second wife serving Vega. She smiled with her fangs at Vega as she placed her food in front of him. That was strange. Usually, the second didn't sully herself with care work such as this. As the meal began to finish, and the chief got up to leave, Vega stood to attention to the surprise of all those in the feasting area. His head raised proud, and he uttered the ancient words of challenge towards the chief. The chief greyed mane turned around to acknowledge him, snarling lightly.

"Very well, whelp. Prepare yourself and we shall meet on the sparring grounds, but do not be confused. This will be no playful match." The Chief huffed off to his tent to prepare, and Vega immediately turned to head towards the sparring grounds, grinning wildly with excitement. Badar gulped down the bite of food that was lodged in his maw and pushed his plate away. He'd lost his appetite. A few of the others went with him to watch the battle, though Badar's feet definitely dragged on the ground.

It wasn't long for the chief to prepare. He had his war markings on, customary for this sort of event. Red curves and spikes adorned his body, and his claws were bared. He stood confidently, his second wife to his right flank.

Soon, both Thalari were in a red circle on the ground, both unarmed. On one end, the chief and his years of experience. On the other, the fated chieftain, seemingly chosen by the Thalai to rule. The Final Epic Showdown.

Both charged towards one another, and in a flurry of blows, passed one another and stood, turning back face to face. Then the wounds appeared. Deep gashes in both opponents, and both fell to their knees.

Vega stood.

The Chief stood.

Vega fell, clutching his stomach.

Badar felt the world slow as Chief approached Vega. It all made sense.

Badar looked at the second wife. Then at Vega's hand to his stomach. Then at the wicked smile of the chief.

No. He couldn't let it happen. Not like this.

Before he knew what he was doing, he stood and ran into the circle. The wind followed his moves, and suddenly he was between the Chief and Vega. A power, old and powerful, awakened inside Badar. His hand reached out to stop the Chief, and the chief was blown back by a strange force.

The Tribe gasped, some clutching their weapons. The Chief was barely able to stand, but he pointed at the mage and spoke. "Badar, for your transgressions on the way of the Tribe, you have been banished, never to return. You walk clanless and alone for the rest of your days."

Badar barely heard him as he listened to Vega's heartbeat slow. The poison was not very fast acting, but it would prove fatal if not treated.

That night, Badar snuck back into the village, and gathered Vega's body, heading into the mountains in the cover of night.

[Tomia]

In the Temple
After Quentin addressed everyone, people started coming forward with information. One man rushed into the temple, and seemed worse for ware from the journey, still he proved to have some information. The demons were coming from next to the temple. That would make it so they didn't have to travel far to get to their destination. He shook his head at Archeno offer to join them however, "You should stay here friend. You're in no state to be risking your life like this,"

An apprentice mage from Dascus also came forward. Quentin frowned at this, she was still a child not even done with her studies. He wouldn't risk her rushing into battle. "That's very brave of you my lady, but you must stay here. What we're facing beyond that door is far too dangerous for an apprentice. I will not have such potential wasted under my command."

Then a mage spoke up, adding to Archeno's report and confirming the apprentice mage's theory that they were traveling through portals. She then suggested finding a way to close the portals.

"So you want to charge out into the heart of the demon army, without actually knowing how to close these portals?" Lena asked skeptically. "We don't even know what could be waiting down there for us. We have almost no information on our enemy. This sounds like a suicide mission to me."

Prax then introduced himself and spoke up in favor of Natasia's plan and Quentin now had a decision to make.

"They're right Lena. We might not have all the information we need but right now the forces of Eboris are being collectively slaughtered and we can't sit here until we have a perfect plan. We need information, and to do that we need to go to the source. I'm heading for the tunnels, all who are willing should join me." Quentin said before turing to Saelaam. "If you are coming with us, bring that hammer. If not, give it to me."

Lena looked annoyed at Quentin's decision, but nodded. "Fine, if you're determined to put yourself in harm's way, I'll have to be there to save you."

Quentin would have smiled if not for the demon invasion on their doorstep.

"Very well, everyone take a minute to prepare themselves for a fight when that door opens." Quentin said as he walked up to the first chamber. There he saw a group of Eshonie knights and several beast folk. These demons have created strange bedfellows indeed.

"I assume you sought refugee here like the others. Well, I'm putting together a party to fight our way to where the demons are coming from and put a stop to it. If you managed to make it here, you must be competent enough warriors. So, will you join us?"

One of the beastfolk present, a warhammer-wielding she-wolf drenched in demon blood, looked him up and down. "A Knight of Shotarr... I suppose your people won't have to fight their fellow mortals today." She said with a chuckle before lifting up her hammer with one hand and resting it on her shoulder. "I can't speak for these two and their troops," she stated, gesturing at Danica and Zog. "But I wouldn't mind going for another round or two. However, how do you plan on stopping the demons? I mean no offense to you, but I'm not keen on throwing away my life on a fool's crusade."

"I'll admit, we aren't sure yet how we will accomplish that. But the only way we will figure out a strategy is if we know what is actually going on. It's better than sitting here. This temple won't hold forever."

The Thalari laughed at Quentin's admission. "Is that all you have, the hope that we'll figure it out if we step outside where the demons lurk?" She shook her head. "I'm impressed."

"We also have this."

The new voice belonged to a young winged Thalari that had walked up next to Quentin, holding up the silver hammer they had retrieved from the depths of the temple. The woman raised an eyebrow at him, surprised that he wore not the guise of a warrior, but a cleric.

"The demons were released from the depths of Eboris when the Dascian envoy removed this from an altar. It was the cause of their arrival... but I think it could also be the only way to stop them." He stated. "The legends spoke of the Hammer of Eboris, right? What if... what if this temple was built by them? What if the hammer has the power to repel these invaders?"

Quentin thought for a moment. "It's possible. But I won't place all my faith in a folk lore. We have no idea what really happened back then. But the only way we learn more is if we head towards the source."

After a few minutes everyone who was joining the fight had gathered at the door, Quentin in front of the group, ready to open the door. "Once we're out there, keep close ranks, no one strays from the group. We clear out the entrance, and then make our way to the tunnels. Fight smart, and the day will be ours." With that he pushed forward on the door, some of the larger members of the group like Prax and Danica helping him.

With the door open the harsh sounds of battle filled the air. There were demons outside the doors but less than there had been before.

"Charge!!" Quentin shouted as they rushed down the hill towards the tunnel.

Alexius
As Alexius continued to cast spells at demons, and direct the troops around him where he could, he was suddenly approached by a purifier, who by the looks of him was Guardian of the Light. Normally Alexius would never consider aligning himself with such a person, but the arrival of the demons would forge new paths for everyone and old allegiances would need to cast aside if their world was to survive.

"Very well Purifier, it seems your craft can actually be put to good use for once." Alexius said as he moved to his right before shooting a blast of lightening towards the abomination who now lacked his magical abilities.

"You're a warrior yes?" Alexius said to the Guardian. "We must rally these men around us if we are to win this battle. I'm no battlefield commander, but you seem like a man they might listen to."

[Galnius]

Brialya
As the elven archer fought her way through the treacherous battlefield and after unleashing about a dozen arrows she had made her way to the temple. She was about to go inside when she noticed another elf nearby. This elf had somewhat of a strange look to her. She wore armor and had a suppressing number of daggers on her person. She had somewhat of a crazed look and at first Brialya thought she would just move on, but she noticed the elf was hurt. She likely wouldn't make it on her own without help. Brialya sighed, she couldn't just ignored someone in need, her oath with the faithful demanded she help the downtrodden.

Lady of the shadows, guide me as I guide others through the dark.

With that she sprung into action, firing an arrow at a demon that was preparing to assault her fellow elf. Soon Brialya had reached the woman, who was indeed injured. "I am Brialya, of the Faithful. We should get you off the battlefield so you can be healed. What is your name?"

Tenna the Mute
There was one thing Tenna always found difficult to deal with when hurt, or really any other time. That is, people trying to help. Needless to say, this is exactly what seemed to arrive in the form of another elf. They appeared to be an archer, and had arrived in time to pierce a demon attempting to attack Tenna. Rising, the mute elf looked at the other she-elf that had revealed herself not only as a Faithful (dangerous, really, considering there were many elves that may kill her just for existing on this battlefield), but also to be named Brialya. The knife wielding elf made sure to remember that name, in order to get any information she could about someone who very well may get themselves killed today for being too caring. It was due to his that Tenna, of course, felt she had to accompany her to ensure otherwise. After all, a Faithful indebted to a street crawler was a useful thing.

She found quickly, though, that who was to be indebted could soon be questioned. Demons it seemed did not understand the idea of resource management, preferring instead to utilize human wave tactics. Naturally, more seemed to be on their way over, and the temple was now sealed. Two elves against at least half a horde. It seemed fair enough. She drew one blade, gesturing to the oncoming enemies to the archer. With the other, she pulled out chalk and began writing on a nearby wall.

My name is Tenna. I'm fine, but we may both die soon. If we don't, forget the name. You may get in trouble. With a wink, she finished the last message and hopped up onto a nearby ruin. She drew one more knife, waiting for the lead of the demon charge to come into range. Perhaps, with any luck, she could down their mount and take out more than one. With more luck, the other elf would wise up and get into a better position.

[Gudmund]

Talion Hurst | Haden Hill, Outside the Temple

Following Talion's casual stroll towards the temple, the moment he stood upon its first step was when everything turned south, a distant horn annoncing the start of battle. It seemed the elves couldn't keep it to themselves afterall. Twirling round, Talion stood by and watched as two armies clashed into a moshpit of brutality, slowly backing up closer to the temple in the process. As the Dascian soldiers around him shared expressions of shock, Talion simply observed, assessing the enemy forces as they gradually revealed themselves. In situations like these, his master had thouroughly instilled that staying calm was the best one could do. Should the opposition appear to be overwhelmingly strong, and the chances of victory slim, it was best to simply flee rather than expend your life in a hopeless battle.

Reaching the doors of the temple, Talion chuckled at the hapless guards, who had yet to notice his invisible self. Looking back at the ensuing battle, his face scrunched in confusion as the very ground shook, overshadowing the minor rumble of stampeding armies. For a moment, everyone paused, only for the ground to rip open revealing a massive tunnel. Within the next few seconds a truly garish army of demons marched from the pits, joining the fray just as quick, their untimely arrival likely baffling everyone present.

"Demons?!" screeched one of the guardsmen, Talion himself reacting all the same, tripping backwards and landing on his backside at the sight of the charging demonic calvalry. Hurriedly scampering out of the way, Talion grasped his levitating spear, reduces his weight enough to leap almost twice as far onto a nearby boulder. "Well shit," he thought, catching a glipse of a few demons dashing into the temple, "of all the damned things that could appear. At this time of day, at this time of year?"

His mind racing, Talion dispelled his invisibility to better focus on the current battle, people from all the world now struggling to fight back against the unending horde pouring from the ground. "What could've... no, the moment they arrived something fluctuated in the temple, some idiot must've triggered something," surmised Talion, taking advantage of his position to fire condensed beams of energy at any foul demons drawing too close. A thin magical barrier around him blocking any arrows that found him. Minutes passed, but the demonic horde simply kept coming, no matter how fast and skillful the people of Eboris were. Just like ants, in enough numbers they could take down creatures far stronger.

At the thought of turning tail and fleeing, the temple doors suddenly burst open, a formidable looking Knight of Shotarr leading the charge alongside two Thalari and by many others. "They seem to know what they're doing," muttered Talion as he began blasting the demons blocking the path of the charging group, his beams burning straight through with minimal damage. It seemed even against such creatures his attacks would 'overpenetrate', with three or four shots being required to actually slay the target with his finger-width attacks. Their accuracy and effeciency far outweighing the deficits.

"This looks like the start of a looong series of events..." he complained, simoultaineously blasting an uncomfortably close demon through the noggin.

[The Anarcho-Syndicalist Commune]

Prax

Humans always intrigued Prax, ever since he had first seen a Treodori city shortly after leaving his home. They seemed to have an almost existensial dread towards both being alone, and being outside. Their temple's reflected this fear of the unknown, built like fortresses to last thousands of years after their abandoment. The Thalai was worshiped only in open air and without spoken words. Perhaps the Pantheon had the same fear as the humans who worshipped them, and thus could only be worshipped where they could be defended. It was a question for greater thinkers than Prax.

Regardless of the reason behind it, the doors to the temple were staggeringly heavy. Only among the older dwarven structures of Ashar had Prax ever encountered something similar to this. However, with the help of a few other members of the group, the doors eventually heaved open. Prax was rewarded with a demon to the face. Wrestling the smaller creature to the ground, Prax didn't bother drawing a knife from his belt, instead opting to rip into the demon's throat with his fangs. Stripping flesh away from the body, Prax rose up again, glowing orange ichor covering his face as he let out another roar. However, this one seemed to have more power, more weight to it as Prax felt the Thalai fill his body with it's strength. The charging demons faltered, their lines hesistating, while his allies became bolstered by the sound.

Rejoining the Tasharians, Prax drew his farx and leaped headlong into the combat, crushing several demons underfoot as he landed on the front line. With one swing of his blade, he cleaved a circle into which Vlad and his men streamed in. The old soldier finished off a dying demon, before nodding to Prax and saying "Full of nifty little tricks like that, aren't you?"

Prax cleaved another two enemies asunder and pausing for a breath responded "The Thalai grant's it's faithful numerous abilities to utilize and take advantage of. You humans seem to forget it, but there are several reasons why Antora has never fallen, not the least of which is your kind assuming our lack of mages makes us weak."

"I didn't ask for a lecture on the art of war. It was a compliment."

"One that makes light of something I take very seriously."

"Not much of a sense of humor in you is there."

"Just not when it comes to the Thalai."

Prax punctuated that sentence by cutting down another demon. Now, however, he noticed a large creature behind the initial demonic ranks. A massive hulk of flesh spurting fire from random holes across it's body. Grinning wide, Prax jumped into combat with the Abomination. Slicing what appeared to be the arm of the creature off, Prax quickly tried to dodge out of the way of a flame spurt. Feeling his arm flare up in pain, he knew he hadn't been too sucessful in that regard. Rage welling up within him, Prax shifted into his beast form, and pounced upon the abomination, fang and claw shearing piles of writhing flesh from the demonic construct that had once been a human. The victorious beast raised it's head from the body and unleashed another roar.

---

Nat

Meanwhile Nat was similarly cutting a swath through the demons with her honor guard. Like before, every demon they cut down added another soldier to Natasia's Legion. The Dascian's were like an axe, cutting through the demonic horde as they progressed forward. Screams from the various demons as Natasia's dread sword cut through them pierced the air, which turned into low echoey groans as the death spasms of their body turned into the animation of their undead forms. All was good, at least until the fire mage who had been with Natasia started to spasm.

His flesh seemed to bubble as he screamed, his body contorting and twisting into some form of monster. His screams were punctuated on a high note, as Natasia skewered him without a second thought. The inside of his body glowed deep purple from the necromantic runes of the instrument of his demise as Natasia drained his life force, and found the origin point of his transformation. A demon with glowing hands now focused on her, and in front of her, Natasia saw a floating figure appear.

It was her, the day she had appeared on her wedding day. A dress made of golden silk, her hair enchanted to a deep red color. A bouquet of Treodori Silver Roses in one hand, the other on the hilt of a captain's scimitar. The figure gestured for her to come closer, to join. Her soul, returned. Nat merely shook her head, and continued to walk towards the glowing demon. He seemed to become more and more concerned the more Natasia walked towards him. Not even the singing of the false soul, a sound she had desired to hear since the day she died could rouse her. Natasia raised her blade, and with a clean strike, decapitated the corruptor. The shade pretending to be her soul disappeared with the demon's last few breaths.

Wiping her blade on the demon's corpse, Natasia didn't even expend the effort raising the creature from the dead. Noticing that the charge had been going mostly well, Natasia decided to find a spot to recollect her energies for a moment. Spying a large tree on the battlefield, Natasia walked over to it to gain control over her magic. Leaning up against it, Nat noticed two other overworlders sheltering behind the tree. Nat didn't even look away from the battlefield as she asked "How has the battle been going out here?"

[Auropa]

Temple Charge

Cyradil Vask
Inside the Temple

Trailing behind the charging the knights and elves, Cyradil moved forward with her shield wall, pulling the wounded and fallen comrades behind them as her mace whipped out from behind her defences to shatter the foes still bearing down upon them. When the call of reinforcements finally came through, spirits renewed and the steady push turned into a ruthless advance as warriors from all factions doubled their efforts to clear the hall and reunite with the surface. As the last monster fell and the forces met, the lack of direction became oppressing, with demons bearing down on the surroundings and the armies in seemingly complete disarray the group had to decide on an action fast or be overrun by another attack. Likely noticing the danger, the leader of the Shotarr knights stepped up and revealed himself to be Quentin Raeden, the famous wolf of his order, and went on to call for the patchwork of forces to continue working together against the new enemy. After the mage from before offered her support, the unlikely companions began to raise their own voices and one by one, vocalized their support as they started sharing what little scraps of understanding they had and began working to form a plan. Cyradil meanwhile, stayed quiet. She looked back at the blood soaked hallway, now littered with the bodies of all races and returned her still dripping weapon to her side as she walked back to her charge.

“The way is clear m’lord.” She stated flatly with a short bow to Sampson “From here I will be accompanying the Shotarr knights in trying to clear a path. I recommend you do the same or use the next advance to cover a withdrawal with your remaining escort.” Whether he protested to her decision or not, it didn’t matter anymore. In a situation like this, the greater good took priority and between staying back to protect a lone man or assisting to end the invasion, the choice was clear. Not waiting for so much as a response, Cyradil rose from her bow, turned on her heel and walked back towards the growing patch work group. ‘Maybe this was what I was sent to accomplish…’ she thought to herself as her damp footsteps echoed throughout the chamber.

Returning in time to catch Quentin’s plan and the arrival of another handful of fighters and mages, she remained quiet as she slouched against one of the nearby walls and she waited for a decision to be made. She didn’t have the intel to properly interject and if past experiences had taught her anything, it was that she didn’t exactly have the best of leadership skills herself. Instead, she looked across the ragtag group they had formed. Despite all the death and danger, some part of her couldn’t help but feel some level of joy at the sight. If it weren’t for the emergence of these creatures then the group would've undoubtedly ended up fighting and killing one another in the field battle. If they really could manage to stop this threat here and now, then maybe some good could still be salvaged from this disaster.

Walking up to the door beside the door being practically dwarfed by those beside her, Cyradil lowered her hands against the frame and readied herself one final time. When Quentin gave the call, she braced herself and pushed hard, letting out a low grunt of exertion as she began to take a half step forward. As they heaved together, the door began to buckle and was was steadily forced open, as it's stone crept forward, the sounds of violence once again filled the temple as the raging battle came into view. Even after the initial waves, the sheer scale of conflict was borderline unthinkable. Three whole armies were now forced into a desperate defence against a seemingly endless grey tide dotted with specks of orange energy and mutant creatures within their ranks. Even with dozens of heroic charges and last stands cutting down vast swathes of enemies, the grey horde continued its advance relentlessly and endlessly. Looking out across the field a single thought ran through Cryadil’s mind as she continued to push ‘They must be stopped’. When the opening was finally wide enough, the black clad warrior tore her mace from its straps, pulled the shield from her back and answered Quentin’s call to arms.

Hearing the booming roar of the Lionfolk beside her as he tore through the nearest demon, she echoed his call with her own guttural war cry. As she shouted, her figure began to glow a violent liliac with sparks jumping across her armour and weapons as she began to move. Seeing the demons reel back for the briefest of moments, she surged forward and towards the central group. Gripping her mace hard and narrowing her eyes behind her visor, she looked past the demons and toward their destination deciding that no matter what stood before her, she would clear the way. And with that thought still in her mind, she slammed into the demonic horde with a thunderous clap as a wave of lightning shot out from her. Those unfortunate enough to be pressed against her were practically cooked in an instant while those further behind were sent hurtling back as arcs of electricity ran across their bodies. Unwilling to lose her momentum, she continued onward, her mace flashing around her, crushing skulls and shattering weapons as smaller arcs of power continued to burst from it's head with every strike and tear away at those caught beneath its blows. The press however, was not without its costs and as orange blood splattered across her armored figure thin trails of red could be seen trailing down as swords, spears and hammers clattered against her shield and plate, denting and slashing against her as some began to reach their mark.

[Theyra]

Alexius
As Alexius continued to cast spells at demons, and direct the troops around him where he could, he was suddenly approached by a purifier, who by the looks of him was Guardian of the Light. Normally Alexius would never consider aligning himself with such a person, but the arrival of the demons would forge new paths for everyone and old allegiances would need to cast aside if their world was to survive.

"Very well Purifier, it seems your craft can actually be put to good use for once." Alexius said as he moved to his right before shooting a blast of lightening towards the abomination who now lacked his magical abilities.

"You're a warrior yes?" Alexius said to the Guardian. "We must rally these men around us if we are to win this battle. I'm no battlefield commander, but you seem like a man they might listen to."

"Yes, I am a warrior", he responded quickly as he spotted another demon coming his way. Ivaran prepared himself as the demon held his warhammer high in the air as he was preparing to strike it down on Ivaran. Ivaran sidestepped the demon as the attack came and his warhammer landed firmly in the ground. As the demon was going to pull his warhammer out the ground, Ivaran struck first by landing a downward slash on the demon's neck. Nearly severing the demon's head and Ivaran spoke again. "You suggest I lead these troops? He had a surprised look on his face, Ivaran had never led troops into battle before. "I am not sure if humans would follow an elf but, given the right now...." Another demon came at Ivaran and he quickly dispatched the demon by a few well-placed slashes. "Sure" and he got a look of the men fighting around them. Ivaran hoped he was up to the task.

He spotted a group of Guardians and yelled to get their attention. "Guardians, suppress the abomination that the demons turned mages into magic and then move in for the kill". He turned to gaze to the left and found that the left flank was buckling. "I need anyone who is able to reinforce the left flank! Ivaran pointed to the direction of the left flank with his glaive. Those that could listen headed to the left flank. Ivaran could see the flank stabilize and spotted a group of demonic beast goring those near the frontline, "mages focus fire that beasts! As soon as he finished that command a demon came up to him. He parried the demon's mace and launched a fury of blows to the demon's torso before it dropped to the ground. "Close up ranks, make sure that no demons get pass you! He turned his head to Alexius, "Any idea to how we can stop the flow of demons since we can not hold out forever".

[Lazarian]

Riki Farinhait

"The risen under my control are assaulting that temple as we speak. I obviously know nothing about the specifics, but... I have a hunch that whatever summoned these demons must have come from there." The necromancer tightened his cape and pulled out his ornate ceremonial knife, the carvings littering its dulled blade glowing ever so slightly. "Oh, and... so you don't call me a 'necro' again - my name is Riki."

Clive Paxton

"Heh, you've got spirit." Clive chuckled. Mostly to himself. It'd almost be a shame to kill this one, honestly. Yes, 'Riki' was still a mage, upsetting the natural balance of things and disturbing the dead. But it was pretty rare to run across with a necromancer with such good intentions. After all, reanimated corpses were the perfect slave labor. They didn't complain, they didn't (or couldn't) ask questions, and they'd follow any order. Most necromancers were foul sorts, in Clive's opinion. Not that he'd spent much time among their ranks, but he did have one as a target before. There was one fellow who had tried to enslave the village of Brisby with a horde of reanimated dead, taken from the local graveyards.

He'd messed up pretty gravely. Brisby made Clive's favorite ale, and needless to say, he was quite aghast upon returning from Aletha to find it in such dire straits. It turned out that without his corpse soldiers, that necromancer was...pretty squishy, honestly. Too much time spent in musty towers studying profane scrolls, not enough time spent going on brisk runs or hauling nets of fish up from the seas. Needless to say, Brisby was thriving these days, albeit with one more corpse in their graveyards.

Clive watched as Riki raised the corpses of the demons among the horde surrounding the temple, sewing discord among their ranks. Was it truly profane if he was raising demons? This was a philosophical question which greatly eluded Clive. After all, the main evils of necromancy was the fact that it disturbed the peacefully resting dead...but did monsters inhabit the same plane as the resting souls? Surely not. Perhaps this was acceptable. He'd have to think about this one.

"I assume you're not the type to charge at a horde alone, correct? If you have anything ranged with you, that would surely help..."

Clive shook his head in response. He did have his trusty crossbow fixed to his back, but what good was one crossbow in the midst of all this commotion? He'd be able to sink a few good shots, perhaps, but it was honestly a waste of energy and bolts. The odds of him striking a demon were about the same as striking one of the necromancer's soldiers. Besides, firing from the trees would likely draw something's attention, and they had a good thing going on here. Nothing was trying to kill them at the moment, which was always a plus. Suddenly, Clive noticed a figure starting to walk towards the trees they were staking out in.

"Heads up, Riki. Something's coming our way." he said brusquely, clenching his mace tight. Sure, it didn't look like a demon, but even a Dascian soldier could cause an issue. Most folks weren't particularly fond of necromancers, and Clive was certainly standing close enough to be associated with Riki. Well, technically he was associated with 'em. For now, anyways. As the figure grew closer, it was a...dwarf. Looked to be a mage of some sort, judging by the glowing eyes and cloak. Mages sure did love their cloaks and robes. She saw the two, and didn't seem to be actively hostile, but Clive was still wary. It was good to be wary. Kept a man from gettin' stabbed more often than not.

"How has the battle been going out here?" the dwarf spoke as she approached. Her voice echoed strangely, in an unpleasant and uncanny way. Clive didn't care for it. Especially not with those glowing eyes and her whole getup. Sure, appearances weren't everything, but they usually didn't lie too often.

"Fuck off, midget!" snapped Clive, brandishing his mace threateningly at said midget. "Identify yourself and your allegiances at once. You got ten seconds, you hear me?"

[The Anarcho-Syndicalist Commune]

Natasia

The Dwarven woman looked out over the battlefield, watching the armies clash. Quentin's charge continued down the hill towards one of the tunnels, helped along by her Legion and her honorguard. Unexpectedly however, she heard a rather coarse and brusque voice come from one of the two figures behind her. Turning around, she had a good look at the larger man holding a mace. Cocking her head a little, she looked away from him.

Her voice echoed behind her towards Clive and Riki. "My name is Natasia. My allegiance at this current moment lies with the overworlders, as I imagine yours also does. That is unless you'd like these demons to kill all of us. Not that I'd mind. The dead are always easier to deal with."

Noticing another smaller group of demons coming up the hill to try and flank the Knights and the other groups from the temple, Natasia rose her arms and pointed her sword at them. Purple energy crackled around her as she let loose a bolt of energy at the demonic charge. A single word rose from her lips as she unleashed the spell "Thanagor..."

The spell impacted the lead demon of the charge, who collasped sputtering. Out of his body rose purple smoke, his life force, draining away. The other members of the charge likewise fell over and withered away as the now dense purple fog floated across the battlefield to Natasia, who absorbed it into herself. Any wounds she sustained in the initial charge down the hill closed and healed. Rolling her head around, she said "I don't suppose I could have the honor of your names while we're all sheltering here."

[Finland SSR]

In the Temple

Clive Paxton

Natasia

Theodor Arnulfsson / Riki Farinhait

---

The Dragon Killer listened intently to the conversation between Quentin, Saelaam, Lena and others. The winged Thalari, the same one who had gotten to a lot of trouble earlier, proposed that the Hammer he was holding in his hands could hold the key to shutting down the demon threat, and even brought up the fact that the Temple around them may have been built by the people who had stopped the mythical Demon invasion many centuries ago. However, Quentin dismissed the idea as simply folklore and instead ordered the small army at his disposal to march to the front door of the complex. The best thing they can do is break out of their fortress, assess the situation outside, and find a possible solution there.

Theo knew nothing of the Hammer of Eboris and his knowledge of demons was limited to mere myths, like everyone else, but logic dictated to him that if this Hammer was the thing which opened the gates for demon armies to march out, then it should also hold a key towards closing them. While the largest members of the party started pushing the door, Theo raised his shield and spear, getting ready for a defense, while also speaking:

"Sir Quentin, what we are dealing with had been myth until a few hours ago. I don't think doubting a possible solution just because it's folklore is reasonable at this point."

The heavy doors opened, revealing a chaotic battle outside - much to the surprise of Theo and others, however, few if any mortals could be seen outside of the temple. Instead, the demons were, for some reason, fighting amongst each other - this chaos meant that the charge out of the temple was deadly. Theo did not join the likes of Quentin, Prax and Cyradil, however, and instead held his ground, advancing slowly with his shield raised, keeping a short distance between himself and the fragile members of the group, and impaling any foolish demon which tried to charge past him.

Riki glared at his mark-littered arm while the battle at the entrance of the temple raged, until suddenly, he noticed that the marks started dying down faster than normal. It got the necromancer to raise his eyes and witness that the doors had opened and the defenders inside charged out, cutting down demon and undead alike. He couldn't fault them, it'd be difficult to distinguish between a live demon and a fresh corpse in the heat of battle... but it was seriously hampering his ability to help. It didn't take long for the first of the defenders to come across him and Clive, too - what they saw before their eyes was a dwarven mage, with glowing, unnatural eyes. She did not seem to mind Clive's initial hostility that much, introducing herself as Natasia and then promptly using a some sort of spell to drain the life force of a few stray demons into herself.

A necromancer? But of a different sort than Riki...

"Calm down, Clive, we don't have the time to be making enemies," the young necromancer calmly stated, while his eyes were locked onto the battlefield and his hand was using his knife to draw a glowing pentagram onto the bark of a nearby tree. As soon as he finished, over two dozen more demons rose from the ground - Riki could only hope that they would take out some of their peers before they get taken out by the temple party.

"My name is Riki Farinhait, I represent the Order of the Fading Butterfly." he spoke towards Natasia. At this point, there was no reason to hide his allegiance to Necromancy. "I assume you're from the temple group, correct? Have you figured out a way how to stop this onslaught, perhaps?"

[Lazarian]

Natasia

Riki Farinhait

Tragically, the midget did not go away. At least she identified herself, though. Wouldn't give a nation, though. Claimed her allegiance "lies with the overworlders." Clive was still rather wary, considering the three armies were just about to tear each other to pieces before the demons had crawled out of the woodwork. Sure, they were all on the same side together for now, but he'd bet a couple coppers that the sudden alliance would dissolve as soon as these creatures were driven back to whence they came. Yes, it'd be lovely if he was proven wrong, but he was a pessimist by nature, and it was safer to be that way.

As Natasia stole the life out of the leader of a group of demons charging up the hill, Clive scowled bitterly. Muttering curses under his breath, he shook his head. Another damned necromancer.

"I don't suppose I could have the honor of your names while we're all sheltering here." the necro midget said, looking over towards the two.

"Absolutely n-" Clive snapped, before being interrupted mid-sentence by his newfound partner in crime.

"Calm down, Clive, we don't have the time to be making enemies." Riki said calmly, as he revived a small detachment of demons. Well, so much for that. The Tasharen continued to introduce himself to the creepy dwarf, announcing his ties to some Order of the Fading Butterfly. Clive hadn't heard of it before, but he presumed it was some necromancer guild or other.

"Stop the onslaught? I think the only way this stops is if you block the holes they're coming out of." Clive chimed in, hearing Riki's question. "They're like rats in the sewers. It's either that, or we just slaughter 'em all. Regardless, we should get to the high ground at the temple. More easily defensible. If we can create a natural chokepoint there with the defenders, their numbers advantage doesn't mean anything. And as much as I hate your interference with the natural order of things, your blasphemous arts could likely help turn the tide. Let's get up there."

He finished, glancing up at the chaos that stood between them and the temple. For whatever reason, the defenders in the temple were making some sort of charge out of the fortress. What the hell? Throwin' away a completely good advantage for nothing. Shaking his head, he looked over to the two practitioners of the dark arts. Not his favorite company by any means, but not the worst he'd been among either.

"Any bright ideas?" he asked the two, squinting up at the massive brawl above. "I'm not about to try to run through that."

[Tomia]

Quentin and Lena
The temple group charged outside and fought their way down the hill through waves of demons. Quentin continued to slash any demon that crossed his path, lightening trickling across his blade with every strike. Quentin hadn't felt this much rush in battle in a very long time. He had been a commander for a few years now and didn't spend nearly as much time on the front lines as he used to. The last few wars he had fought in were uninspiring to say the least, but here surrounded by a horde of demon, the Knight of Shotarr felt a surge of purpose like never before. It was a conflicted feeling, as Quentin was never the type to take joy in death, but he didn't have time to dwell on it.

"Stay close! There are too many of them to let gaps open up between us!" He shouted just as they reached the bottom of the hill.

"Soldiers of Eboris rally to me!" He shouted out, brandishing his sword in the air as lightening crackled around it. Soon foot soldiers and knights a like started to gather around him and join the ranks of the temple group.

Lena couldn't help but admire his leadership. She was at his side, cutting through demons herself. Since it was currently day time she needed to rely on her sword for most of her fighting. Still she had enough stored magic to enchant her blade so that the demons she cut would occasionally freeze in place when they came in contact with her blade.

Soon dozens of soldiers were joining them, and their ranks were becoming a clear thorn in the demon's side as they attempted to take the hill. The longer this band of warriors could hold the demons' attention, the better chance the armies around them had to rally and retake control of the battlefield.

"Hold here! We defend the base of the hill!" Quentin shouted to the troops behind him, taking a defensive stance as another wave of demons rushed towards them.

Brialya
Brialya soon realized that the person she had helped couldn't speak, and proved to be a warrior named Tenna. Brialya gave a silent nod to the written message before turning to see the demons charging at them. Tenna moved to take the nearby high ground and the elven archer followed her lead. She quickly climbed a nearby boulder and readied her bow just as the demons approached. She let loose two arrows in quick succession that both made their marks. Still another dozen demons continued to charge and so Brialya enchanted an arrow and sent it flying towards a group of three of them. The arrow was glowing bright red as in cut into the earth in front of the charging soldiers. Soon it exploded in a blast of fire. It killed one of them who was right on top of it. But the others seemed relatively unaffected.

Damn, fire doesn't seem to hurt them much.

She thought as they continued to charge. Before they could climb up she pulled out her knife and lunged from the high ground. She slashed the throat of one of the demons, but the other one swung at her, making a shallow cut on her thigh. Brialya cried out in pain but her adrenaline pushed her through. She quickly swung around, her blade going right through the demon's hand. It howled in pain, as it dropped its played. Brialya proceeded to kick the demon square in the chest, knocking it on the ground before throwing her played straight through her foe's heart.

She quickly prepared for more foes but found that the demons had refocused their attentions and were now heading down the hill. Turning her head she saw what had caught their attention. A force of various warriors and mages were forming at the base of the hill, preventing the demon's advance to the temple.

"We should help them." Brialya said to Tenna, checking her leg to make sure it wasn't bleeding too badly. "Come on, strength in numbers right?" The archer said as she made her way down the hill toward the gathering force.

Alexius
The Keeper was impressed by Ivaran's ability to to pull together troops out of the chaos. More and more soldiers joined by for protection and out of habit for following orders. "I'm impressed elf." Alexius admitted before he was asked what they should do next to try to win the battle. The mage scanned the battlefield and soon his eyes locked on to Quentin at the base of the hill.

There he is. The man from dreams. Sualdir's will shall come to pass, and this man shall be his instrument.

"Do you see those soldiers gathering at the base of the hill? The man leading them? We must move to join him. He is the key to stopping this battle. No one else can do it." Alexius said, speaking with a certainty that made his words sound like absolute truths.

[Absolon-7]

Francis

Cyradil Vask

Rudolph Thorbecke
Rudolph smirked as his plan came into fruition and the demonic beast tripped and then slain by the stranger. He was tempted to laugh a bit at the stranger being pinned down by the beast like a giant glowing pillow but thankfully his Slayer training gave him a perfect poker face. In all honesty, this entire situation was just so strange. This giant army of creatures straight from folklore attacking a pivotal gathering of nation's armies was just too convenient. There had to be some mastermind who wanted something out of this but what? Rudolph headed over quickly to help the stranger out but he staggered a step before catching himself.

"Oh fuck now I remember why I feel like crap," whispered Rudolph whose morning daze had now begin to wane, "I got completely wasted on beer last night."

It was true he had masqueraded as an army soldier last night and had gotten drunk with some all too careless guards but it was better left forgotten. He shook his head and hurried to the stranger sheathing his sword. Rudolph squatted down to get a good grasp on the fur. He began concentrating on the underground's damp moisture drawing it to himself. This beast was already easily larger then a full grown ox so he doubted he'd be able to budge it but a little help wouldn't hurt.

"Wave's Dance!", he shouted as suddenly as twin short columns of water from his feet blasted him upwards still holding on. The dead beast rose several feet giving Francis a chance to escape being under it. As soon as that happened Rudolph turned off his spell and met with the scythe wielder.

"Alright there? Name's Rudolph by the way," he said to the stranger.

By this time, during Francis and Rudolph's running circles around the beast a band of warriors led by a particular Knight of Shotarr. They masterfully cut a clean swathe through the demons inside the temple, making it to the door, and even began pushing against the demon forces outside. All in and it seemed equally foolish yet inspiring.

"I don't know about you but going with people that can fight back sounds pretty good right now," said Rudolph to Francis, "I came here to escape those monsters but staying here's pretty much a mouse-trap. Anyway, care to join me?"

Whatever Francis' answer was Rudolph himself would run behind the ragtag group of soldiers. The main force following the Knight of Shotarr was headed towards a hill as they furiously fought for the bottom of a nearby hill. Rudolph ran right behind using them as a screening force but one lightning wielding knight that was straggling behind as demons seemed to be rushing towards them. Upon closer inspection though they were covered in glowing demon blood there seemed to be a concerning amount of red mortal blood oozing from many breaks and punctures in their armor. Rudolph rushed to their side and grabbing midway the length of his sword he thrusted it forward at the exposed neck area of a hammer wielding demon before it struck their head. Almost mechanically he repeated the action on the surprised demons as he bobbed and weaved under their weapons as he jabbed their throats. He spun around taking his sword out the last demon and he held up a hand to the warrior.

"Pace yourself now, from the looks of its your armor and body are just a few dings from going kaput," said Rudolph at the lightning wielder, "So is that Shotarr knight at the hill in charge? I noticed him leading from the front back at the temple's door."

[Galnius]

Brialya
Brialya soon realized that the person she had helped couldn't speak, and proved to be a warrior named Tenna. Brialya gave a silent nod to the written message before turning to see the demons charging at them. Tenna moved to take the nearby high ground and the elven archer followed her lead. She quickly climbed a nearby boulder and readied her bow just as the demons approached. She let loose two arrows in quick succession that both made their marks. Still another dozen demons continued to charge and so Brialya enchanted an arrow and sent it flying towards a group of three of them. The arrow was glowing bright red as in cut into the earth in front of the charging soldiers. Soon it exploded in a blast of fire. It killed one of them who was right on top of it. But the others seemed relatively unaffected.

Damn, fire doesn't seem to hurt them much.

She thought as they continued to charge. Before they could climb up she pulled out her knife and lunged from the high ground. She slashed the throat of one of the demons, but the other one swung at her, making a shallow cut on her thigh. Brialya cried out in pain but her adrenaline pushed her through. She quickly swung around, her blade going right through the demon's hand. It howled in pain, as it dropped its played. Brialya proceeded to kick the demon square in the chest, knocking it on the ground before throwing her played straight through her foe's heart.

She quickly prepared for more foes but found that the demons had refocused their attentions and were now heading down the hill. Turning her head she saw what had caught their attention. A force of various warriors and mages were forming at the base of the hill, preventing the demon's advance to the temple.

"We should help them." Brialya said to Tenna, checking her leg to make sure it wasn't bleeding too badly. "Come on, strength in numbers right?" The archer said as she made her way down the hill toward the gathering force.

As the demons clamored upon thse two elves, Tenna quickly lost track of the archer as her position was compromised. The first wave fell primarily to smaller, throwing knives. The 2nd fell to trying to reach upward. By the third she found herself having to leave her perch.

Mass combat was far from her best skill, at most ever taking on a few mercenaries people hired to challenge her sect of the street crawlers. However, she was saved, it seemed, by the existence of their mounts. No beast turns on a dime, and Tenna did her best to keep the spinning. She managed, luckily, until they seemed to lose interest and went towards the large group down hill.

Things did not end here for Tenna. In the confusion, her left arm had been kicked and possibly broken by a horse. Beyond the few scrapes and bruises, she definitely came out better than she expected. However, now the other elf, who it seemed was also injured judging by the cut on her leg and the near hobbling, was trying to rejoin the fray.

Now, Tenna was not a hero. This was something she knew, herself, deep down. She also was not against letting stupid people die. However something about this case just seemed wrong. Brialya seemed to be running headlong into suicide, as if dying a hero was the only thing that matter. Tenna decided, for some reason beyond her, to intercept her.

Catching up quickly yet tiringly (that leg injury may jabber saved Brialya's life in Tenna's mind), Tenna got in her path. She put one hand out to try and stop her, using her other injured arm to signal to both of their clearly hindered states. She countered the crazy idea of ruining up to help with a single finger, first holding it up as a one, then gesturing (with quite a sarcastic smile) to Bria's bow. Hopefully, if any divine cared at this point, the other elf would get the memo and listen.

[Union Princes]

Big Red Dog

The screams of dying men, the thundering hooves of charging cavalry, the clashing of metal, and the blowing of horns were sounds all too familiar with Randolf. The great knight could tell that the main army was beginning to arrive as more and more missiles whizzed by his head as it flew into the ranks of the demon horde. That was the only thing different about this battlefield: the legions of armored demons spawning out of the hole in the ground to attack the Dascus army and to seize the temple. Randolf didn’t have time to think what was inside that they were after as he was too busy cutting his way through the demon ranks. His massive size made him a marker that help the rest of the Dascus army to reinforce his flanks.

But now matter how many Randolf slew, more just kept coming. Even his retinue were starting to get worn down from constant demon barrages. Suddenly, knives flew out of the ether and struck down numerous demon soldiers that was about to overwhelm him. Randolf looked down and saw Calt.

“Lord Mage!” the knight shouted as he brought up his heater shield again and smashed it against the face of a charging demon, “Where’s your mages?”

[Zarkenis Ultima]

Saelaam of Trelia
Haden Hill

---

---

Suddenly, a young man in an ornate white robe with black wings sprouting from his back touched down close to Tenna and Brialya, just far enough from them that the wind from his landing didn't buffet them. He quickly raised his hands to show that he wasn't a threat: one of them was empty, while the other bore an ornate silver hammer, held with the head facing down to signify that he did not intend to wield it against them.

As soon as Quentin and his newfound allies had opened the temple's great stone doors to take the battle back to the demon horde, Saelaam had taken to the skies. He was not a fighter, did not belong in the frontlines, and yet he was uniquely qualified to assist others - he could move around the battlefield unhindered by the waves and waves of demons that crashed against the armies of Eboris, and he had both the power of magic to protect and transport others, and the gift of Oadot to aid those in need of healing. Thus he flew above the hill that housed the temple, looking for those who might require his help. The white shield that enveloped him was able to deflect the vicious barbed arrows that the demons fired from their bows, made of materials unknown to the surface. However, he still had to be careful around the abominations that dotted the field, knowing that even one of their attacks could break through his shield and spell his doom.

He had spotted Brialya and Tenna fighting off a few waves of demons and now, after a brief journey, he was here. After showing that he meant no harm to the two women, he approached, cautious but steady. "Are you trying to join Sir Raeden at the foot of the hill, or escape from this place? I can help you down, or get you to the Shotarr encampment to the north, but you have to decide. Staying here by yourselves is suicidal." He spoke hastily, before taking a better look at both women. One seemed to have a nasty gash across her legs, while the other's arm was far from healthy.

"I can also heal your wounds, if you'll let me." He offered, pointing to the white owl on his robe, Oadot's sacred animal.

[Skyggeheim]

Traven Faust
A Gambler's Bet

---

"Our Fate... is instructed by the heavens now, and there is no running from this. Do we agree? We must find a way there."

"I'm not sure if I'm a believer and all of that miss, but that does seem like a nice place to hide away. As impressive as you and I might be, I don't think either of us much fancy fightin' a whole army of these things." Traven said, kicking the limp corpse of one of the demonic creatures that had attacked them. They were no easy feat to kill; and though they died just like regular overlanders, they seemed much tougher to kill. It had taken Traven far too many cards to simply kill a half dozen of them, when usually a simple Fyris card would have done the trick. However, he had a sneaking suspicion fire did very little to these creatures.

He briefly recalled the mysterious woman's alluring dance of death. It had been something entirely new and unique to Traven. He had never encountered desert folk such as her before, and most certainly had never seen them fight. It was as if she was simply moving lazily through a river. Every motion was relaxed and wholly confident. He felt a swelling appreciation that she had been there to aid him in the fight, because he was unsure if he would have survived had she not. He looked around at the carnage that was displayed on the battlefield in front of him. The armies on the field were faltering against the weight of the demonic advance, their lines being pushed to their limits and their formations being broken by endless suicidal charges from a numerically superior enemy.

But yet, something stirred in the tide of demons. Lightning strangely crackled into the sky as dozens, soon turning into hundreds, of soldiers took up defensive positions on a hilltop not far from where Traven stood. He smiled, because wherever he could find allies in this fight, would be a good place to go.

"I think we might want to make some friends 'fore we go to the temple." Traven said, pointing to those who were fighting for their lives on the hilltop. He opened his book, waving Sayyida over to observe while he perused the pages. He figured she would be interested, considering the tome was what she was intrigued about in the first place. Muttering to himself, he finally found the rune he was searching for: the teleportation rune he had been searching for earlier. He drew a piece of charcoal from his coat and tugged out a blank card from his belt. Focusing intently, he slowly drew the rune onto the card, holding his breath. He would have to be precise, lest he risk ruining the rune and potentially endangering both himself and his most recent friend.

When he was satisfied with his work, he let out a deep exhalation. Slowly, he pressed his thumb onto the rune of the card. He pictured the hill as best he could, transferring his thoughts into the rune in his hands. Slowly, he placed the card on the ground with the face up. It glowed hot orange momentarily before a portal, about the size of a man, sprouted from seemingly thin air. Traven sighed; at the very least, the first half of the spell was a success. However, what came after was the portion he was unsure about.

"If you'd take my hand, miss." He requested, feeling the woman's hand slip into his. Gripping Kileshania in his other palm, he let out one rapid breath before stepping into the portal, "Here we go."

Teleportation was supremely uncomfortable. It simply felt as if you were being pulled in every direction at once, all while falling into an endless void. What made it worse was the relative distance they were travelling. A quarter mile of distance in teleportation could feel as if five minutes had passed. Of course, to any observers, the transition was immediate. The laws of space and time tend to...bend...in the spaces between realities. It was here that the fabric that held the universe together was weakest, a place where no living creature should ever go.

Soon enough, Traven felt the laws of gravity return. The land rushed up to meet him, and he landed on the face of the hill, still gripping the woman's hand. After getting his bearings, he heard a gravelly roar shake the earth from behind him. Wheeling around, he pulled Sayyida away just as the impact of a demonic sword cut a deep rut into the earth. Traven reacted by running two fingers across the length of his staff, letting it morph into a glaive. He stabbed the tip into the massive demon's stomach, tugging it out and stepping back. It would seem that the attack had no effect, as the demon responded with something similar to laughter.

Traven cut off the abomination's taunting by raising his right arm, pointing Kileshania at the demon's head. His entire arm crackled with blue energy, and soon it fired out of the end of his staff and through the demon's cranium. It left a smoking gap where the demon's head and shoulders had been. The rest of the onslaught didn't seem to have their attention turned to them, and so Traven sighed and turned back around, to be faced with three other overlanders who were making their way down the hill. Two were elves - one of whom was wielding a bow and the other wielding daggers - and the other was a slight-framed eagle-man.

"Well hullo there," Traven said with a charming smile, "I'm Traven Faust and could one of you possibly explain to me what might be the problem? We seem to have caught ourselves in quite the situation."

[Theyra]

Alexius
The Keeper was impressed by Ivaran's ability to to pull together troops out of the chaos. More and more soldiers joined by for protection and out of habit for following orders. "I'm impressed elf." Alexius admitted before he was asked what they should do next to try to win the battle. The mage scanned the battlefield and soon his eyes locked on to Quentin at the base of the hill.

There he is. The man from dreams. Sualdir's will shall come to pass, and this man shall be his instrument.

"Do you see those soldiers gathering at the base of the hill? The man leading them? We must move to join him. He is the key to stopping this battle. No one else can do it." Alexius said, speaking with a certainty that made his words sound like absolute truths.

What? Who are you talking about? Ivaran spoke puzzled and he turned to spot the man that Alexius pointed at."This man is key to winning the battle and how are you sure? Ivaran wondered but, Alexius sounded so certain that this man is the key to ending this battle. Ivaran looked around the battlefield and saw that while his forces were holding at the moment. That could not last forever and he had to make a choice. Stay here and slowly die and think of a plan or follow the mystery man that Alexius is talking about and hope that he is right about this. Ivaran thought about it for a moment and made a small prayer to the light. Speaking with a serious tone, "Alexius, I hope by the light you are right about this because I do not have any better ideas to end this battle".

Ivaran took a deep breath before speaking, "Men, I have received news of how to end this madness. We will fight our way to a group of soldiers at the base of the hill and follow them. I know that some of you may have doubts about this but, if we are to end this nightmare and see another day we must do this! If we do not stop the demons here then they move on to our homelands and wreak havoc upon our homes, our families! If you do not wish for this to past then follow me and let's end this! The troops responded with a war cry and started to fight their way to the base of the hill with a renewed vigor. He turned to Alexius, "let's go and finished this nightmare". Ivaran departed to join the troops and barked some orders, "Shields in front and move as one! Ivaran joined in fighting alongside his troops as they cut their way to the base of the hill.

[The Republic of Atria]

Rudolph

Francis waited patiently until the Slayer used his water magic to push the beast off of him and was polite enough to give Francis his name: Rudolph. "Thank you." He replied, standing back up, a notable puncture wound in his side from one of the many spikes that covered the beast. Thankfully there was blood aplenty. Demon or not, it was blood and running around with a gouge would do more harm than good. "Name's Francis. Give me a moment and I'll be right behind you." Some of the glowing blood shifted it's flowing and entered into Francis's wound, causing it rapidly regenerate and he let out a sigh of relief.

The fellow warrior mentioned that he probably had a bit too much to drink last night. "I'd recommend avoiding booze when you're going to be working." He often partook of it, who didn't, but he was always wary to make sure he never drank a day before he might have to do something important. Usually after a nice hunt or received a nice payment and was looking to burn some money.

While the pair was dealing the beast, more warriors, led by what he assumed was a Shotarr Knight, made their way through, carving up demons with acceptable efficiency. Though while he could point out plenty of mistakes made with their fighting, he could hardly fault their tenacity. "I was paid to make sure things stayed calm. So until every single one of those demons are corpses, I'm here to fight." Though he was going to go back and tell the captain that he suddenly upped his rate due to the unexpected demonic incursion.

Ruldoph broke off from the charge with the knights to help one that clearly had spent more time drinking than practicing as he looked badly injured. Rudolph was guarding him, but with more demons closing in on the pair, he opted to go help them out. He snapped the blade back into the handle of his scythe and swung the heft blade into an approaching demon's chest. He flung the body aside, feeling reinvigorated with the fresh blood in his system courtesy of the demon beast.

"Rudolph. If you can do something to help him, do it soon. We cannot afford to be bogged down right now. There are far too many of them and not enough of us." He reminded as a few more demons charged the trio with more soon to come. Francis readied his scythe and had the same half smile he had earlier.

Demon or not, they died like any other mortal. Though they seemed more than happy to charge straight towards an opponent with no fear of keeping themselves alive. That alone ensured that be it one or ten demons he had to fight, he would never treat them as anything less than something to be killed as soon as possible.

[Tomia]

Brialya
Brialya was on her way to the gathering army when she was suddenly stopped by Tenna who had caught up on her. It was fairly obvious that Tenna didn't want to join them and from her pointing at the bow she seemed to indicate they should fight from afar.

"Well, yes, but I can't just stand here and wait for them to charge at me while I fire arrows can I?" She asked, though her tone didn't really show annoyance or anger. In fact, it came across that this elf's concern was genuine. Just then however they were joined by an Ar'el beastfolk. Normally she might have been suspicious, but given the current circumstance she figured it was necessary to trust anyone who wasn't a demon.

"Speaking for myself at least, I'm joining the fight yes." Brialya was wondering why exactly he had approached them but when she owl on his robe she understood and felt a sense of relief.

"Well, I would appreciate you healing me Chosen, but how long will it take? We don't exactly have time to wait around while the battle happens around us."

Once again new people arrived, this time it was a women dressed in foreign clothes, and a man who had seemingly teleported them to the location. The man introduced himself as Traven and offered a charming smile. He gave off the feeling of a pretty boy con man and Brialya didn't trust him.

"Demons are spouting from the ground like wheat, and their armed to the teeth, isn't it obvious what the problem is?" She asked, a pleasant smile contrasted her biting words. "But if you must know, my new friend and I here suffered some wounds fighting the demons. So if you would be willing to cover us, while my other new friend here heals us that would be much appreciated."

[New Neros]

Aleksander Zog
The Battle of Haden Hill

As the doors slammed shut, the imposing tower of a man began to slide from his mount, lurching forward and lazily dismounting his moose. Far from the grace he showed on the battlefield, Zog hit the ground hard with his ankles, stumbling harshly to an exterior wall and bracing himself on it. His subordinates also dismounted, some taking their steeds elsewhere to make room for the others while two of Zog's men checked on their commander. He breathe was rattled and struggling, and his lieutenants urged him to rest and drink water. Zog turned to face the men and put his back on the wall, sliding down the rough stones until he sat fully, one of his warriors bringing a canteen to his lips, while the other inspected his wounded eye.

"The beast tore your eye from it's socket, commander." He spoke in a hushed whisper, "The bleeding does not cease, either."

"Any healing magic?" Zog groaned, looking at his man with his one remaining eye. He shook his head no, replying that their healer had perished somewhere in the waves of demons. "Damn." He said softly, his skin growing pale somewhat, the exhaustion, bloodloss, and shock catching up to his body. "I have an idea," He said, grabbing his subordinate and pulling his close, "Do not burn me with human magic, grab the eye of a demon and force it into my socket. The magma will stop the bleeding." The lieutenant looked bewildered, and then to his man-at-arms for guidance. Zog slumped back on the wall, the second man pouring water over his face and washing some of the blood away from his wound. "Eye for an eye," He replied with a grizzly smirk.

"Surely he's delusional." A third man stated as he walked up, looking his commander up and down. "We have some demon corpses here, but what makes you think you'll be able to see out of a demon's eye? We'll go find a medic and sow the eye lid. We need to move him somewhere where he can rest better, I hear these Tashans and beastfolk discussing plans to leave the temple." Zog raised his head from the wall, looking the man who came forth up and down as well, "Need something, commander?"

"You wish to issue out commands, cavalryman? We are exhausted from battle while your own sword is barely even drawn, you dare reserve your strength when half of our men perished, fighting to the bitter end?" Zog slammed his foot into the ground and pushed up from the wall, staggering to his feet, clutching his massive greatsword in one hand. "I'll see you die at my hand, tit-sucker coward." The man drew his own weapon in response, taking a step back from Zog, clutching his longsword tight. "Strike me, tribesmen, settle your dispute, take command! Do it!" He screamed at the Eshonie, who kept backing up as Zog advanced.

"I will not, commander." He stated in return.

"Do you disobey my orders?" Zog whispered, barely audible.

"No, commander, I will follow them to the letter."

"Good," Zog spat, "Fetch me the head of a demon." He turned to look at his two lieutenants, "You two will observe what I mean, and hopefully, you will never question me again." Sasha returned to sitting, taking deep and meaningful breaths as he did so, waiting for his unruly soldier to return. It took some time, but he did so, carrying the head of a demon by the horns, still dripping with molten blood, tossing it carefully in front of the Eshonie chieftan. "This will do, this will do just fine." He said, grabbing and examining the demon's skull. "Perfect, this is the corrupted body of a man, it simply masquerades as a demon, not a true hellspawn." With three fingers in a grabbing motion, Zog plucked the demon's left eye from it's socket, snapping the cord that held it in place at the back as well, his own men having to turn away at the sight.

Dropping the head, Zog used his other hand to force his own eye socket open, dropping the lava-blooded eye into his own with a sizzle and a painful grunt. Clutching both hands over his ruined eye socket, Zog clenched his teeth to the point of chipping them, and calmly whispered, "H̴̲̅E̶͈͒Â̴͓L̷̳̊" in his Black Speech, the socket under his eye smoking suddenly, and a look of relief washing over the general. Zog removed his hands, scorch marks surrounding his eye lid and cheek as well as some remnants of blood, his left eye firmly closed. "Good as new." He said with a chuckle, his entire vision turning dark and collapsing on the spot.

He came to relatively quickly, though, his armor was removed and he was laid to rest on a saddle blanket and soft bag. Zog reached out and clutched his greatsword, assuring himself that he was not disarmed while out. Still, it seemed that a flurry of activity was underway in the temple. "Lieutenant," He shouted at a mounted moose rider, who reigned his beast and stopped to listen to his commander. "Why are you mounted? Have demons breached the temple?" He asked, rising to his feet, collecting his daggers and looking around for his armor.

"No, commander, Sir Quentin of the Knights of Shotarr held a brief conference. The horde may be emerging through portals within the tunnels of the temple, and they may have a means of closing them. We are to assist them in their attempt."

Zog breathed a heavy sigh as he found his plate armor neatly stacked in the corner, haphazardly throwing it on and tightening it down, knowing battle was imminent. "No one thought to wake me?" He asked, "No one asked my opinion if I were to die for a Tasharan's plan? My men are to be put on the butchers' block once more and we all nodded our heads in agreement. The Knight had better be right in his 'maybes' and 'possibilies', otherwise, the demons could not tear me from his hide." He spat with utter venom, the cavalry commander having made much of his own battle experience in fighting against the legions of Tashar.

"They hold an ancient weapon, commander, the Hammer of Eboris!" He said with some excitement, "They are beginning to open the door, what are your orders?"

"Die for the Tasharans for all I care." He whistled, summoning his trusty steed, Spartak. Hopping onto the mighty war beast, who seemed refreshed and ready for battle himself, Zog continued. "I will live for the Confederacy, and become the bane of every hellspawn on this day." Zog and his battle brother making up the rear of the counter-attack after the doors had re-opened, faithfully entering the fray and slaying demons trying to flank the column, Zog's other mounted riders at the front, making a firm wall to advance with alongside the beastfolk. "Hopefully my men reach the tunnels safely, but I must admit," He began, turning to look at his companion after felling a lone demon, "My left eye hungers for battle."