Chapter I: Nyermersys

[Roy Tmofl]

From the shadows he watched the fighting in front of him. It was a good fight. More fun would come out of this then he first imagined.

He was walking slowly towards the tavern as was his way. Until he saw a large group of mostly armed men approach the dreaded pest pillar. He watched with interest a little ways away from the group.

He was about to leave this cold and boring place until his patience was rewarded. Soon after the group of people began to mess with the pest pillar many giant rats started to attack the warriors.

Oh yes they had fought well. Or at least against the rats. But when he saw the Demon come into play he knew that things would take a turn for the worse. He began to walk side ways in an attempt to cut off the demon.

Then he saw a man wounded around his head get attacked by the unholy creature. After that he saw a fool soldier attack the beast and get killed for it.

He truthfully did not care if any of these people lived or died. He only knew he could not beat this creature alone. He walked forward now knowing that he must join this battle carefully. One wrong move and he would die.

The man was obviously affected severly by the heat coming off of the demon. So he would have to combat that. But how long could he do it. Was there anyone else who could help himwith that? How could he hurt the beast? Fire ha that might only make him stronger. He could not fight well but perhaps he could help out the others. All of these thoughts ran through his mind in a matter of blinks.

He approached the demon from the side just as the foolish man was turned to ashes. He was about 2 fords away now using his magic to keep himself from burning up. As he reached this distance he pulled out a handfull of sulpher and threw it at the demons face. It fanned out as it was halfway to the demons face. Then it was lit on fire. Not a very hard task but it couldn't be to big as then it would simply burn up and not create a big enough "screen." Couple this with the massive amounts of heat he was reducing and you get a pretty difficult couple of minutes.

Of course Roy loved this. He hated to kill weaklings. Not out of pitty but their was just no sport. Now here was a truly powerful enemy!

As he threw the sulpher and lit it on fire he yelled out with a smile and slight laugh.

 "Come now you fools, face down the minion of darkness for I can not hold out forever!"

[Ridgen Sú'ufanán]

The blue-haired elf only remembered that the child was mute when he received no reply save for a grateful look - one soon replaced by another one of horror when the rat had recovered. Assuming a fighting stance, the elf's eyes locked onto the giant rat... and widened in surprise as something shot out of nowhere and... began to tear the rat to pieces. Despite his position, Ridgen almost felt sorry for the rat - until he'd remembered what it had done in the first place.

So this creature... was huge. Not as big as the giant rats, perhaps, but still. It was huge. The elf could not identify what it truly was, really, but whatever it was, it's looks rather out of place here. Even more so than he did, in fact. His mind went through itself to see if it could identify what could have brought it here... then stopped itself as the answer presented itself on a silver platter.

The child he had apprehended earlier, then saved, had stepped up to this out-of-place creature and hugged it. Yes. Hugged it. He didn't need the look from the child to know that the boy was the sole reason that this creature was here. Those two shared a bond - you could tell by just looking at them.

Relieved of the duty of finishing off the giant rat, the elf smiled - they could relax for a bit now, for even though there may still be rats aplenty, the presence of this new creature seems to scare most of them off.

"It risked its life to save yours... That's a very good friend you have there, kid," the magician went, the smile not once leaving his lips. "I'm afraid, though, that the normal rats may still be about... Keep your guard up."

No sooner had he said this than a giant rat had decided to approach them - its approach was halted, though, by something... something star-shaped that dug into its back, making it shriek in pain. It now turned and ran, joining yet another giant rat, in pursuit of a... could that possibly be? A Kasumari? His answer was again, handed to him on a silver platter. In a show of incredible skill and power, the person in question jumped into the air and spun, slicing apart both of her pursuers with nothing more than a large metal fan. Then she proceeded to draw a weapon known to be wielded by only the Ka'rii - the Moonblade, an weapon of deadly elegance. Ridgen knew he was going to see one eventually - but he didn't expect it to be in the hands of someone that could very well have saved his life. The two rats were done away with quickly.

An awkward silence fell when their eyes met. Broken by the sound of his voice not too long after. "Thank you, miss, you saved us a lot of trouble." and before he knew it, words spilled out of his mouth like water from a fountain, a smile forming on his face. Looks like even the presence of a Ka'rii couldn't stop him from talking for long. "I must say, that's a very impressive fighting style that you have there. I'm quite honoured to meet someone so great, even if it's in a situation like this."

[Ayaelia]

Powerful are the currents of the mind, where time is a streaming river always rushing toward the vast oceans of the past. Within that watery abyss, the mind can drown in memory--and it was here that the light-haired woman seemed to have slipped into the darker waters. Swells of sorrow and contrition pressed her deeper and deeper into the blackness of that churning sea.

"Thank you, miss, you saved us a lot of trouble" came a voice through the darkness, and she seemed to be lifting, out from the shadowy tides, breaking the surface of her own history.

"I must say, that's a very impressive fighting style that you have there."

Her mind was clearing, finding the air, guided by the elf's voice. Her thoughts were silver fish swimming forward in time, toward the sound of his words, away from the consuming undertow of the deep ocean of the past and up the streaming river of time to the present.

"I'm quite honoured to meet someone so great, even if it's in a situation like this."

Her eyes were lucid, and her mind settled like a leaf upon the shore; and yet she hardly seemed to understand the words spoken to her at first, for they were too kind and approbative. Her mind played tricks on her. Who was it that stood before her? Not the one her mind was reminding her of; his smile wasn't the same--and yet it was the first ray that had fallen in her shadows since...

Powerful are the currents of the mind,
where time is a streaming river
always rushing toward the vast oceans
of the past.

She blinked, as though clearing the memory from throwing strange mirages across her vision, and saw the elf who stood before her as though for the first time: His long, light blue hair, his white-silver eyes, the alacrity within them, and his kind smile. She regarded warily the feeling of trust evinced in her, for his semblance drew her back to...

Powerful are the currents of the mind,
always streaming back on the river of time
toward oceans deep and wide and vast:
tempestuous waters of the past.

The last word had only just left his lips when she felt her mind had returned to the now, and her lips parted like the petals of some soft pink flower, as though she would speak, but words flew from her like scattering shadows. Her eyes glanced down a moment, until she found her eyes wished to again look into the familiar face, and hers lifted once more: "I... " Her accent shivered even into that single syllable, like a timid wind. "... Thank you," she uttered at last, her voice diminutive and unrefined--as though each tone were the wild, flowering vines of some overgrown garden.

As her awareness of the identity of the individual before her bloomed, a dozen other awarenesses did as well, for it was as though spring had come to her consciousness all at once: the rats squeaking tremulously at her feet, the feel of the night air on her cheek, the crimson-soaked moonblade in her hand, and the wounds she had accumulated in battle. Through the dark shirt and vest she wore, the slashes of the first giant rat ran as a triad of parallel gashes washed in her own blood. Her internal wound, the broken rib, was throbbing.

The pain hit her, not like a rough gale or a sudden blow, but as utter confusion. She glanced down to the pain as her left hand pressed her right side, and the blood smeared her slender white fingers. It felt warm and gentle as it slipped across her skin, but it shone like weakness. Lifting her eyes to the Cyhallrhim cautiously, she took an uncertain step back. Her flighty nature told her go, but something else in her held her; she was a drop of rain suspended in air.

Powerful are the currents of the mind,
where vagrant fears and thoughts may wind,
and regard as strange the good and kind,
for the slithering past is close behind.

But here within the present's heather,
hope lifts each soul like a feather,
and against the shadows of darkening weather
hearts can hold out hope together.

[Fu Luft]

The demon stiffened at the new challenge. It seemed to sense that it faced someone unusual – not every day did it encounter a human who could withstand its heat so easily. When the sulphur flew and caught fire near its face, the demon even seemed to duck its head. For a moment, its deadly arm lost its terrible grace, and swayed limply by its side.

Then a curious thing happened. The burning sulphur ceased its flight, stopped in mid-air, and hung motionless in the space between the demon and the mage. It was a fire cloud swimming in viscuous darkness. The air around it sizzled, a sound reminiscent of oil burning in an overheated frying pan. A small of rotten eggs exploded out of the fire cloud and spread its disgustingness over the square, creeping into the noses of all people and animals present. Even the smaller rats, which had still been streaming to and fro among the cobble stones like confused waves under a crazy moon, stopped in their tracks, held their snouts into the night, and squeaked their disapproval.

The cloud of fire never sank, and even seemed to rise a nailsbreadth or two, until it was level with the demon's eyes. Then, and only then, did it begin to move in earnest. It had a presence now, a purpose to its flickering. There were no eyes, no face, no limbs – and yet suddenly, terribly, the cloud of fire was not a cloud of fire anymore, but a being made of flames, like a shapeless, boneless, skinless brother of the demon. At first, it floated slowly towards the mage, wavering, clumsy like a newborn cub learning to walk. But it had soon found its rhythm, its centre, its way of being in the world. With a crackling like burning twigs, it hurled itself at the mage, fireballing his face, engulfing his body in flames. For a moment, the night around Roy Tmofl was as bright as day.


The demon looked around, and its gaze fell on two warriors, at whose feet lay the bodies of two slain giant rats. The demon seemed to think that there was something comical about the pair, for the right side of its face contorted itself into something resembling a morbid smile. Maybe it was amused by the contrast in size between these two fighters, for one was twice as tall as the other. Yet  in truth, who knows what makes demons smile.

With a few steps, which took it further than the lengths of its legs should have allowed, the demon approached Azalahn and Thorgas. Its arm swung out, and its red-hot claws lashed out at the elf. Each claw left behind an arch of sparks that painted the movement into the night.

[Roy Tmofl]

Roy did not waist a blink. If he had he would have been dead. He saw the flames coming he saw that it was no longer his to control. Though while in mortal peril he still could not help but feel happy.

He had fought strange creatures but this was by far one of the strangest. In his maddened joy however he still recognized that he needed to act. 

In order to survive he needed to cast some powerful magic that may very well kill him.

As the beast was coming nearer him he lowered the heat once more. This was starting to make him tired and he needed all of the strength he could muster in order to defeat this.... thing.

As the thing was about to close around him he could feel his skin begin to burn and his clothes begin to smoke. Yet there was a reason that he was still alive today.

Right before the best was upon him he cast a sort of reverse fire ball spell.

Instead of the Rise flame spell a reduce flame spell. Of course this thing had a living car'all much harder to control than a normal flames. But none the less he was able to supress the fire ounia within its car'all and allow a few other less harmfull ounia to seep into it.

That was the easy part. He did this right when he saw the creature come at him. Unfortunately for him it took longer than he wanted and perhaps needed.

Now as the creature was so near to him that any nearer would cause major burns or death. He cast his reverse fire ball spell. He concentrated on the fire ounia within side of the creature particularly in front of him in a ball. Then he increased the properteis of animation around that ball in the same manner he would a fire ball spell to send it away.

The creature reached Roy and he screamed in pain as he was engulfed by fire. But only for a moment as the creature suddenly felt the affects of Roy's spell. It did not launch away as he may have hoped. But the ball or some such thing Roy concentrated on was sent backwards. The outside then follwed. It looked almost comical. Roy would have laughed had he not been blown backwards by the spell he cast.

The creature was somwhat distorted and it become less of a shape for about a minute. During that minute Roy was unconcious for about 30 seconds. When he awoke he knew that he must get up or die. So he did, it was however very very very hard. He was burnt, his staff blown away, completly out of energy to cast his most simple of spells, not to metion half concious.

Of course this was all very fun to Roy. He had so little chances to truly test his magic. If ever he could it was now.

So though Roy should have been on his knees in tears he was standing(barley) and was able to say with an insane smile. "Come you beast, I have faced down your fires once and I shall do so again. So hurry! the fight must not end is this truly all you can muster!

[Thorgas Ironforge]

A guard's valiant attempt to stop the demon proved futile. The thing held the poor soul, as if caressing him. First the head, then down to the face, then to shoulders; it's like watching a love making session between a chyrakisth orc and a roast beef. To the dwarf's horror, the guard suddenly took on an assortment of colors before igniting. In a few blinks, what was once a man defending others had been reduced to ashes. The dwarf had never seen power like this before. He watched in awe accompanied by terror.

Fortunately another bystander snatched the demon's attention from the others. His act of drawing its attention was somewhat noble though foolhardy. What chance could he have against a creature capable of manipulating fire at will? Then the dwarf noticed some familiar actions. The stranger threw something at the fiend, something that burst into flames very quickly.

"Either a mage or someone crazy," Thorgas muttered. "Ah well, he'll prove to be a useful distraction!"

But the demon merely brushed away the attack. He seemed to cause the flaming cloud to float still in mid air, and the next moment it exploded, sending out a wave of nauseating stench. Thorgas gagged and he could feel his pig struggling to breathe. Poor Buri! His sensitive nose was never meant to smell something this disgusting. The boar ran away from the source of the scent and kept a safe distance between him and the undesirable aroma. He covered his nose and mouth with his moleskin cloak and turned his gaze on the demon, anticipating its next move.

To his horror he saw the demon look straight at them -- at both Ahzalan AND him. It seemed to take an interest in the pair, looking this way and that and forming all sorts of faces. Its eyes never left the two.

Then it smiled.

"Waah!" Thorgas scampered backwards. The dwarf stood up quickly and stumbled his way behind the elven commander, a good distance from the demon. He clutched his staff, trying to find a way to perhaps stop this creature or drive it away.

[Roy Tmofl]

As it turned out Roy could cast a few more spells today. It was the overload of concentration on so many spells that put him over the edge.

As soon as he had a few blinks to recuperate he was considerably better. This of course did not mean that he was quite up to his normal strength. Quite below actually. But he did have the energy to fight of this beast. This he was sure of. Though of course the problem did not lie in could he fight it but how.

This thing could not be damaged and he did not have the strength or knowledge to completly douse the creature. So what would work? Then it came to him. When he moved the beast mainly disrupting it. It kind of went out of focus. This was intersting if only it had stayed like that. Unfortunetly It came back together.

Yet this gave him an idea. He could not withstand another attack that much he was sure about. So he would have to go on the offensive.

He did not need his staff as this creature was plenty full of ounia yet it had a living car'all so this would be harder than normal but it must be done.

He increased the properteis of animation within four parts of the creature. It was hard but he did not need to send the flames in any directions.

The creature began to move forward to him about a ped until it stopped. It was trying to keep itself together now and it was very strong. Roy increased the properties even more as he saw the beast coming back together.

It was now a battle between wills and neither was willing to lose.

[Azalahn]

"Ye say that thing's name be Yvan? Then tell it ta go away, by the beards of me ancestors!"

The abomination started to come towards them. He wanted to charge it and send it back to wherever it came from but his arms and legs just wouldn't move. It came closer and closer and then its arm struck out after him. The heat was unbearable. He managed to force his body to react to the commands of the mind again. He dropped to one knee and thrust his right sword towards the abdomen of this demon, he wasn't sure it had such a thing, The strike would gut a living humanoid and cut the spine in two on its way out trough the back. But there was nothing humanoid about this thing except that it walked on two legs. With his other sword he hacked at its clawed arm.

His parry was powerful enough to cut an ogre in half and both swords connected with something, but Azalahn never got to see what they connected with. The force from the clawed arm connecting with his sword hammered it out of its way, like it was nothing, and the clawed arm continued to come towards him, and tear his hearth out if it could reach him, in the last fraction of a moment he managed to twist his body, the clawed arm connected but only the arm, not the claw. The force though was enough to lift him up from his kneeling position, up into the air and send him flying backwards.

Both his swords were glowing red, like they had been in the fire of a forge for quite some time. The wood in the handles protected his hands from the heat for now. But his left side was totally different, his armor was also burning hot and glowing red, where the demon hat struck him.
The pain was horrible and he had to scream out. He was still able to fight, but how to fight this thing was a good question, if only there was a water mage then they could team up. Well the dwarf was a fire mage for sure perhaps he could do something although Azalahn had no idea about what.

He flew through the air for quite some distance and landed in front of the dwarf, on his back. He immediately rolled backwards and stopped in a kneeling position, then his instincts let go. He stood up very slowly and turned towards the dwarf.

"Master dwarf, this what is, I don't know, but if you make swords work magic or fire protection magic know then in Yvan's name help me now." He did not even bother to conceal his fear because only the insane would not fear this thing. 

[Manik Targin]

Manik heard the bearded man's plea to hold him up but it failed to pierce his conscious mind. He didn't even feel one of the smaller rats bite his leg as he stood transfixed by the form appearing out of the pillar. Manik had never seen such a beast. It was huge! As big as a man and obviously a rodent. The beast didnt move with the same patterns as its smaller brethren, it moved with deliberate intention and without hesitation. Fear slid down Manik's spine and he took a step back. The massive rat started forward quickly, but Manik's attention was once again riveted to the pillar as multiples of the first wretched creature began to appear. Manik's fear increased but this time it stirred him back to himself. He quickly swiped the smaller rats off his legs and then pulled his sword with his right hand, keeping his quarterstaff in his left. A tall man in flashy armour ran forward from the group he had been coming over to question and collided with the first huge rat. The beast didnt flee but fought and the others started forward to join. These people were in danger from these beasts, he had to fight them off. The problem was there were many of them with only Redrik and him.

"Redrik, run and warn the garrison!" Manik called. He spared a glance to see that the man didnt hesitate to obey and was already sprinting away. When Manik turned back to the pillar there was a swarm of the giant beasts and three of them veered in his direction and attacked. Maniik leapt backwards and slashed the first across the eyes. The rat faltered but the other two continued past running after Redrik. Manik could tell right away they would catch up to him before he even made it out of the square. Fighting alone they werent going to be able to defend, the rats were fast and agile. They needed to stick together. Manik ignored the first rat and turned and sprinted after the other two. His legs pumped as fast as he could move them, every muscle straining for more speed. He discarded his quarterstaff dropping it to the ground. He watched the two rats gain behind Redrik. And Redrik sensing them coming turned and crouched, bringing up his crossbow. A good solider the man was steady as he released the bolt. One of the rats faltered but continued on almost unphased. Redrik laid down his crossbow and drew his sword. He didnt run, he knew he needed to stand his ground. Manik was sprinting, his vision shaky with running as he watched the rats bear on Redrik. The one lunged up and Redrik crouched with the beast coming down half on top of him. A spray of blood burst from the rat's back and the end of Redrik's sword appeared. The rat should have been mortally injured and done, but still it ripped at Redrik with its claws. The second rat came on as well and Redrik's screams filled the night.

"Nooooo!" came Manik's growling yell as he cleared the last few peds. He brought the sword up and leapt bringing the sword down with both hands he drove it to the hilt behind the second rat's shoulders. The beast jerked and spasmed but Manik didnt hesitate, he jumped over and with a foot on the beast wrenched his blade back out. Black and red blood washed down the length of it. The other rat on Redrik had stopped thrashing at the man and was on it's side. Manik wanted to check his friend but he had no time as the large rat he had wounded in the face appeared salivating its hatred in a full run. He dove out of the way and rolled to his feet to start running back towards the crowd. He would  run a distance and turn and let the filty monster come at him. Adrenaline and rage filled him and he would have the thing's life.

[Movash]

Grown-ups are weird.

That was the conclusion that Movash arrived at, later, when the smell of the bodies of hundred rats had long been washed out of his clothes and his hair, when the luminous teeth of giant rats seemed like a nightmare of years gone past; when the memory of his fear was distant enough so that he was able to think about the events on Pest Pillar Square.

Grown-ups are weird.

Take the elf with the ice-blue hair. First he catches Movash as a thief, holds him by the shoulder while a dozen other grown-ups accuse him, scorn him, jeer at him, makes him the most miserable boy on the disk. Less than an hour later, the elf saves Movash's life, has nothing but kind words for him, and does not even flinch when Humbaba appears. Humbaba, the sight of whom makes most people draw their weapons, shove their children indoors for safety, shout at Movash to go to where the witches live. And that's only when she is calm and placid as a lapdog. The elf first met her when she was at her most ferocious –  but his eyes did not see a monster. They saw a friend.

That's a very good friend you have there, kid . Movash never forgot these words. In the relief of having been delivered from his nightmarish visions, of having been found by Humbaba, and having survived the attack of a giant rat, the elf's simple kindness took on a glow like the first ray of sun breaking through the clouds after three weeks of ceaseless winter storms. I am a kid, and I have a very good friend. To Movash, at this point in time, this expressed the sum total of what he could be certain of in life.

And then the other elf, the woman, with her silver hair and snow-like skin. Movash had not really seen her when she had fought, as his anxious eyes had fixed themselves on the battle between Humbaba and the giant rat. But when the elfess approached, the aura of death around her was unmistakable: the death that had threatened her, and that she had evaded; but more so the death that she had inflicted. Her movements, smooth as music, spoke of a terrible grace that even a young boy could not fail to see. And yet, when she approached the blue-haired elf, she was shy like a village girl, and spoke in stammered syllables that sounded as wrong as a botched harmony.

So. Grown-ups are weird.

In another corner of the square, fires were beginning to burn. A man clad in a robe appeared to be in a battle against a living fireball. One moment, man and flames seemed to try to one another; the next, they drifted in and out of existence, like a mirage that Movash had once seen walking on the edge of the Ráhaz-Dáth. Eventually, the fireball seemed to have won, engulfing the man so completely that it seemed impossible that he could survive. Yet a blink later the fire dissipated like a fog, and the man emerged, apparently in perfect health, brandishing a staff.

Movash did not see what happened next, as his gaze was drawn by another sort of fire. This had the the shape of a one-armed man, and it was attacking a tall warrior, whose silver armour reflected the flames, magnifying their light, sending flickering flashes of red over the square. Even the Pest Pillar, usually a shadow of darker grey in the grey night, drunk in the light and began to glow with an unsteady, filthy sort of pink.

At the same time, an infernal smell descended on the square, and Movash found himself coughing and gagging in disgust. Beside him, Humbaba fidgeted. Movash knew that she suffered, her nose being many times as sensitive as his. Then they both, boy and underwhelp, saw the man.

By his uniform, Movash knew that he was a guard. Movash had evaded men like him ever since he had managed to smuggle himself into Nyermersys on the back of an unwary farmer's cart, under a load of hay. Twice during the last week, Movash had had to separate from Humbaba and run in a different direction from her, to confuse the guards and save himself and his friend from being caught.

But this guard was not hunting anyone right now. He was the one being hunted. He was running at full speed. At his heels, just a few peds behind him, raced a giant rat, its snout dripping with blood (its own? Or that of a man it had bitten?). Its eyes were like glowing embers.

The guard ran almost straight towards the little group. To Movash, who was still kneeling and holding Humbaba. To the blue-haired elf and the snow-white woman. To the master, who was nearby also. The guard's path would take him on a course that passed Movash by but a few peds. Beside him, Humbaba raised her head. He hardly heard her growl, so deep was it, but he felt its quivering in his bones, as he pressed himself against her body. Humbaba the underwhelp was ready to defend her friend once again.

[Fu Luft]

Azalahn's sword entered the demon's body, and it should have pierced skin and flesh and bones, when the demon had still had such things. Yet that was minutes ago. By now, almost all hardness in the demon's body had been transformed into fire, flames feeding on nothingness, held together and shaped into two-legged form by the will of the Netherworlds. Only the arm, with its long claws, still retained some solid substance as it swung at the heavily armoured elf.

The demon felt its hit connect, and connect well. But it also felt the sword that had pierced its flames. It knew this sword. It knew the hand that held it. The demon's face flared up, as if a Golgnome had thrown sparkfire into it.  

”You!” the demon cried, as Azalahn tried to roll out of the reach of its claws, out of the reach of its heat. ”You took my arm. You took my hand.”

Azalahn struggled his body off the floor and came to kneel next to his comrade, the dwarf. The demon stepped forward in pursuit.

”You owe me payment, do you not agree?” Once again, the demon swung its arm. Like the rest of its body, the arm was all fire now. The claws of flame descended towards Azalahn's head. They had no substance but heat and hatred. No sword could stop them, no water extinguish them. And the demon's eyes – they were like fireballs, which sent rays of piercing light onto the elf warrior's breast. Their gaze was death, and their concentration was absolute. They had seen the one who had hurt them, and it was only him they saw.

They did not see the dwarf.

[Ridgen Sú'ufanán]

The only coherent response he managed to get from the one standing before him was a stuttered "Thank you," and, after that, not much more. And then, and only then, did she seem to be conscious of the situation she was in. Moving her hand over a wound, presumably from one of the giant rats, she took a step back, only moments away from taking flight. No, she should not do that. It's dangerous to go around like that.

"I'm afraid we may have some company," the elf said aloud to nobody in particular. Then, to the Ka'rii, he siad, "You are injured, are you not? I think that you should stay with us for the time being." The stench of something in the direction of the pest pillar was strong. It took Ridgen all of his self-control not to overreact in disgust. After all, if they were gagging and retching when the giant rat managed to get here, there would be some big complications.

[Thorgas Ironforge]

"Master dwarf, this what is, I don't know, but if you make swords work magic or fire protection magic know then in Yvan's name help me now."

Even the calm elf had now shown fear. Who wouldn't, especially since this unnatural fire creature casually tossed him towards the dwarf like unwanted trash. "I-I don't know.." The dwarf managed to mutter. The current situation prevented him from thinking clearly. He stared at the armor and weapons of the elf, the part where the demon struck him. Thorgas detected higher than normal levels of fire ounia on them due to the recent exposure to fire. He concentrated, lowering the armor's heat and bringing it to acceptable levels.

”You took my arm. You took my hand.”

Thorgas gasped and accidentally broke the spell. The thing can talk! He backed a little more, driven by fear of the demon and the stench of rotten eggs from the burning cloud. Just in time too; the demon strode towards the elf, probably to finish what he started.

Wait, something's wrong with the fiend.

It's like he transformed entirely into fire. He had no tangible body with which the elven commander might strike. The demon became one with the flames, morphing it into his former shape, with more malice than the last. The dwarf felt more hopeless. How can he harm fire with fire?

Then an idea struck the dwarf; the fiend is made out of fire -- if Ximaxian principles apply, that means he can be manipulated by a fire mage. It's worth a try, now that he's about to be killed by one of the netherfolk. As if by a stroke of luck, the demon did not seem to notice him, its attention fully occupied by the one who robbed him of his arm.

"Commander," Thorgas addressed the elf in a hoarse voice. The effects of casting multiple spells is draining him mentally and he had to kneel down to prevent himself from fainting. "If ye be able ta keep 'im away from me, I might be able to weaken him fer ye."

With that he stuck his staff to the ground and closed his eyes to help with concentration. Such action made him vulnerable to ANY and ALL attacks, but it's a risk he's willing to take. He waved his arms above him, as if pulling an invisible cloud toward him and started his desperate attempt to drain the demon of its energies. He targeted the fiend's fire ounia, trying to lower its intensity. If fire magic lore holds true, the resulting effect will reduce or even extinguish the flames that compose its entire being.

[Warrior Kaelan]

There was only a kind of awkward pause between himself and the drunkard before a tiny man burst in, looked up to the warrior, and was immediately imploring for help. Kaelan gave an angry grunt as he pushed past the drunkard and stepped outside. "Lead on," he growled at the little man.

It wasn't necessary, really. The sound, lights and smell led the warrior directly to the pillar, where men and women of various degrees of combat experience were engaged with who knew what. Corpses, fur, blood was beginning to mark the square, and Kaelan scanned quickly for a target, something to end this all. Two things struck him, and he paused for a moment to take it in.

First was the almost-human figure of flames that appeared to be having it out with the monied elf from the inn, and flanking that monstrosity was a dwarf, mage perhaps, the warrior presumed. Staff, abstract gesturing, either a mage or a poor dwarf gone spastic.

Secondly was the pillar itself. It looked... wrong, somehow. Different. Let the magic professionals take care of the magic, then. This thing was an issue, and let all of Nyermersys be damned. Kaelan quickly drew the bastard sword off his back, set himself low and charged past the crowd toward the pillar. If this worked, he would throw his weight into the weapon's pommel, slamming it roughly halfway up the pillar.

It was foolish to expect even that hit to dismember the pillar; rather, he supposed it would only anger whatever kind of opponent this might be. The next move, then, was to sidestep while bringing his weapon back to him, and slash downward at any form of appendage sticking from the pillar itself, whether that was a symbolic stone arm, the face of a rat, or anything. If it was pushing toward him, Kaelan threw every effort into cutting it off the pillar, then threw himself away from it completely to catch his footing and reassess.

[Altario Shialt-eck-Gorrin]

Gurrant stumbled about, ignoring the screams of rats, of those people with him, and even his own voice, which surprised him with its high toned pitch.  Well, if anyone here had a reason to scream like a schoolgirl, it was him.  Koraya's sake, half his scalp was barely hanging to his head.

Entering the mouth of the alley, he desperately tried to get his voice under control, and even managed to stop screaming altogether.  He saw the elf with her wolf in the alley, and his face colored.  He could only imagine her thoughts at the moment, seeing him.

"Like ye wouldn't be 'owling like yer damn wolf if'n yer scalp was near ripped off."

He noticed then that she appeared to be in pain, herself, but his pride would not allow him to apologize or take back his words.  He owed her nothing.  She would get nothing.

To his surprise, even if he had wanted to say more, Gurrant felt the collar of his coat tighten around his neck and he was forced to a stop, nearly pulled backward onto his butt.  He craned his neck around to see what held him, and it seemed this waking nightmare he experiencing was never going to end.

A blast of heat he'd never experienced before, and he had experienced many strange things in his life, hit him full force, forcing him to turn his face away again.  Still, the image of that creature had burned itself into his mind.  It was hideous, and something out of a nightmare.

Something else that was burning was his coat.  Where the creature was holding it, flame was licking at the back of his neck, and he could feel the heat all down his back.  As he struggled to free himself, he suddenly felt the creature let go of him.  Falling to the ground, he began to roll, hoping to put out the flames, as his fingers undid the cogs that held his coat together.  After a few feet, he simply rolled right out of his coat, which lay smoking in the street, the smell of burnt wison fur mingling with the burnt rat smell.

Not knowing why the creature had released him, he looked up when a scream of anguish erupted, and Gurrant watched in horror as one of the guards burst into flame.

"Oh, me mother's frozen arse!"

Turning away, he began to crawl toward the elf and her wolf.  Suddenly, he saw them in a different light.  Suddenly, they were hope.  Hope that he might get out of this alive.

" 'elp me, girl," he called out weakly.

Advanced search

[Members]

Members Total Members: 2850 Latest: thediscountcodes Stats Total Posts: 214570 Total Topics: 8053 Online Today: 43 Online Ever: 216 (November 30, 2006, 09:08:03 AM) Users Online Users: 0 Guests: 26 Total: 26

[Artimidor]

	Powered by SMF 1.1.21 | SMF © 2005, Simple Machines TinyPortal v0.9.8 © Bloc
Theme based on Cerberus with Risen adjustments by Bloc and Krelia Modified By Artimidor for The Santharian Dream