Chronicles of The Omniverse Archived Lutetia City: Valentine Park

Crista stumbled back from the immense strength of the parry. Still, she stood her ground, kept her balance, and tightened her grip around the hilt once again. She glared at the impostor who deflected her blow with heated fury in her eyes. At that moment her usual cool blue eyes could have been mistaken for burning amber. She stood fast, preparing to defend or charge at the enemy again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When the bombs went off , Madison was knocked of her feet and left the ground for a moment before quickly meeting it again with a painful thud. She lied motionless on the ground for a few minutes, the force of the blast and the impact of the ground that immediately followed, knocking her unconscious. Soon Madison began to stir, groaning at the pain that throbbed through her body. Slowly she lifted herself from the ground, her hands, her knees, her flowered hair, and her pastel dress now covered in dirt and soot. The heat of the flames surrounded her and only upon taking note of it did she lift her head. Her eyes widened and darted about as she took in the destruction and death around her. She stifled a shriek, covering her mouth with her dirtied hands as she spotted the body of a civilian to her right. The cleric sat motionless until hearing a scream that dragged her back to attention. She sprung to her feet and started running through the blazing fair grounds, looking for any injured survivors she could help.
 
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The wave of heat surrounded Savien and other paladins. Assuming each knight was garbed in Monastic full plate, they would be provided at least marginal protection against the fire aura, the nomex and nanofoam beneath their steel warding off the flames.

Savien brandished his blade one-handed, tip poised forward and injured arm trained backwards. A fencing form. It was his strongest style, considering his impairment. He stepped to the side and circled the Dread Knight as Leon reach for his lawkeeper, intending to enact one of the oldest Monastic tactics on record - divide forces and have one group engage in melee whilst providing openings for another group wielding firearms. The trick was not getting too entangled in the fight to risk friendly fire.

As Leon took aim, Savien lunged, thrusting for a chink in Duval's armor beneath her pauldron.

"Come, die for your Wick!"

"You first, Oathbreaker," he snarled.

---

"Jimmy! Camille!" Aaro rushed through the crowds to catch up with his fellow proselytes. "Dude, we've got to get out of here. Where's Mia? Luca? Inarin? Arien..." He growled. God, a lot of their friends were still in the park. "Okay, who hasn't gotten out yet? We need to find them."
 
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Spinning the chamber of his lawkeeper to switch it to consecrated ammunition, Aurelion steadied his aim at Duval and let loose a shot at one of the cracks in her once pristine armour with a THOOM. He swore an internal oath that he'd not brought any armour piercing rounds with him today. He had two clips of consecrated rounds, one of explosive and one of scatter-shot loaded into his weapon, with a shock clip and another explosive clip in reserve. Of course, he hadn't been expecting to face a fully armoured paladin, of all things. He could only hope that the high-calibre of the shots would prove a match for the fallen knight's weakened armour.

"You've betrayed the Light, Duval!" Aurelion roared in response to her protests. "Look around you, at all these innocent lives that you once stood to protect! No matter your grudge with the Order, you cannot justify this!"


Yuri's towering form loomed over Aaro and Jimmy, and he shook his head with disapproval. "You go, we cannot protect you," he stated flatly. "We bring twins and Arien boy back, they go to find friend Inarin. You go to find them, you are only making likely more to die. The danger is beyond even strong children. I do not think myself could fight this battle, even."

"Y-you should listen to him," Elisa stammered. "Arien's- He won't die. You know what he can do, Jimmy, he'll bring the boys back safe."

"Fuck!" Another curse came from Adam, and Yuri's fists curled. "Tara, try and get to them, do what you can to get them away from it! Gods, when this is all over somebody needs to remind me why I agreed to babysit a pair of kids that a Caer has a grudge against." He rubbed at his forehead. "Yuri, Tara's going to need our help. Looking after these kids is all well and good, but we're not being paid for that. That thing is going straight for the twins, the ones we are being paid to look after."

Yuri nodded solemnly. "You should listen well to girl," he addressed to Aaro and Jimmy. "We will bring back safe your friends. That is our job."

"Any time now, Yuri!" Adam was already starting to move off in the direction of the horrific aura he could sense. With a final solemn look at the boys, Yuri jogged after him. Amber swirls began to fully overtake his eyes.
 
Jimmy snapped his gaze towards Aaro, glad that he was at least alright, but that didn’t account for any of the others. He hadn’t tried hard enough to stop Mia, the female having darted off into the fray without a word to anyone else. In fact, the only noise she did make was to scream twice before disappearing into the thick of the chaos. Growling under his breath at the notion of just standing around and letting others fight the battle, Jimmy knew that wasn’t an option, but more than that, he knew that Inarin would do the same for him.

“I can’t just stand back and let something happen to In. I’m sure Arien can take care of himself and possibly the twins, but I can’t take that chance with Inarin. He’s too good of a friend.” Sliding his fingers through his hair, he shook his head when told he should listen to the girl before the two remaining bodyguards left, assuring them they would bring back the others.

“Fuck that, I’m not leaving without In, Arien, Val, or Al and I need to see if Izaic is okay. You lot can stay here and wait.” Jimmy took off in the same direction, heading to where he last saw Inarin, hoping he wasn’t too late.

Mia didn’t know what she was thinking rushing into the thick of things on her own, but in her mind, that was exactly what a Proselyte should do. They were supposed to have training to be a hindrance to those that sought to cause harm to innocent civilians and while she didn’t have all the training necessary to do a whole lot of good like a Paladin, she could at least save some people from death. Grabbing a stick on her way towards where most of the action was taking place, she grasped it tightly in her hand and made sure to be on high alert to any danger that might be lurking around, determined to do some good in the world.
 
(Written by Script and CaerBear)

A sick grin spread across Nox’s already twisted features as he came to a halt, tattered boots that had failed to grow with his increase in size kicking up dirt and scraps of flesh. At the club where they had first met, the Caer had towered over all, a giant among the common folk, but now…? The monstrous undead stood nearly ten feet tall, but maybe if Arien was lucky, that was but a mere trick of the tension of the moment.

A jaw, slacken as it was would normally be incapable of speech, but neither Arien nor the twins would have any real trouble understanding his words. Or the laughter. Keening, wretched, foul upon the air. “You presume to command me, little one? How quaint. Tell me, kin, how do you propose to stop me from enjoying my sport?”

Harsh words, each one spoken with the stinging force of a bullwhip, followed by another round of rancid giggling. The Caer looked not at the vampire in his path as he awaited the answer that was sure to amuse him further. No, his eyes never left the Castellanes…

Arien winced at Nox’s words, clenching his fists. He was all too aware of his chances if this turned into a fight. The best he could hope for would be to inflict enough damage, and quickly enough, to allow him and the twins a quick getaway in the time it took Nox to recover. His best bet was in trying to convince the Caer to leave them be, whether with logic… or with something a little more compelling.

“Look,” he hissed. “You’re not supposed to be interfering with me.” He kept his words brief, conscious of the fact that his friends were unaware that - ostensibly - he and Nox were working on behalf of the same mistress. Not that he (or, he suspected, Nox) were overly loyal to her. He, at the very least, was of the mind that Sanina considered them both little more than tools, and was inclined to treat her with much the same contempt. “I need these two,” he went on. “Find your sport elsewhere.”

Talons would rake through unkempt hair, slicking it back with entrails and sanguine. A long, drawn out sigh would seethe through non-existent lips as Nox lowered himself into a crouch, making sure to remain just above eye level with Arien, so that if the younger vampire looked forward, all he’d gaze into would be the vortex of fangs and human scraps the Caeruleum called a maw. “Ah yes...The sweet lady. She did say that didn’t she?”

Fear would pour out of the ice demon like a tidal wave then, washing over Arien and the two mortals cowering behind him. “But see...I want them, boy. I want their blood. I want their flesh. I want their screams. All of it, its mine, do you understand? I will take their lives, after I relish in their agony. Will you try and stay my hand? You, so young and so weak?” At some point, Nox’s posture had shifted. It was a subtle change, but now he had the look of a predator about to lash out at his prey.

Arien took an involuntary step back as the aura of fear washed over him, his defiant stare wavering as his eyes widened with momentary terror and vulnerability. Behind him, one of the twins whimpered. Neither had dared say a word, or so much as move an inch, as their protector faced off against the monster from their nightmares.

For the second time in as many minutes, Arien considered running. Leaving the twins to their fate, and saving himself. His indecision must have shown, because behind him, Al spoke up - voice pleading. “Arien…”

He didn’t say anything other than his name, clamping his mouth shut immediately after out of fear that daring to speak out of turn would trigger the Caer’s wrath, but the unvoiced plea was enough. No. No. He wouldn’t give up his insularly perfect life here out of fear. He refused to be bowed. He refused to give up control.

“Weak…” Arien muttered, shaking his head and tightening his grip on his knife. “Fuck you,” he whispered, then again, louder. “Fuck. You.”

Jumping back a step to give himself the barest of moments to act free of retaliation, in the same motion Arien held his knife out, then plunged it into his own chest. A tide of crimson spilled forth over the blessed blade, beginning to burn with power before it even dripped free of the silver.

The Patriarch watched patiently, rising from his crouched position to his full height once more. “Good! Good! Strike back at me, seek to overpower me with all your might! This is how our kind should handle conflict! In the open, in full view of the meek and helpless cattle upon which we feed!”

Nox was prepared for any kind of offensive that might be unleashed upon him. Sliced and carved with hardened blades of blood! Impaled with sheer arcane force! Turn all the frozen life essence in his gullet into crystalline bombs! Anything! “Do it, Arien, try to destroy me!” The laughter rolled out his distended jaw, booming in its intensity, hungry is its lust!

The younger vampire lifted his gaze to meet Nox’s eyes once more, and this time his emerald orbs had been wholly filled with burning crimson light. When he spoke, his voice hung in the air with a power and a presence that was not his own, dripping with fel command - as much as he dared draw on. “Leave. Us. BE.”

The echoing words pushed back against Nox with their own tidal wave, a strength of will that - in this brief moment, for these few words - threatened to match his own.

...The mirth quickly seemed to die as Nox’s physical disposition slumped, and his head snapped down to stare at the grass and dirt and blood surrounding them, mind going numb as the bloodmage’s demand filled his subconscious…

Arien took a hacking breath, blood spraying from his mouth as he took another step back away from the Caer. They didn’t have much time, that much he was sure of. He turned, drawing a hand over his chest wound and wincing as he sealed it closed with another touch of blood magic, willing his own flesh to knit itself together. “Go,” he rasped. “We have to ru-”

The words were cut short as Nox’s fist closed over the back of Arien’s head, claws sinking into flesh and bone, squeezing, but not enough to do any sort of lethal damage. “You disappoint me, bloodmage. And you’re still in my way!”

Arien let out a short, agonised cry as the Caer’s claws dug into his skull, and his hands came up to claw at the monster’s grip with little effect. In desperation, he tried to draw once more on his magic, and at the same time Alvére took a half step forward, crying out the vampire’s name. But they were both far too slow.

It would seem to the twins, and to the very unlucky vampire currently in the Caer’s terrible grip, that Nox’s next movement took little effort. With a flick of a very disinterested wrist, the blood drenched monster would toss his foe, hard, with enough force to send Arien spiraling end over end through the open air.

A whistle would be Nox’s only verbal recognition of his own actions, along with a softly whispered, “Who knew he could fly…?”

The sudden jerking motion almost snapped Arien’s neck, and it was all he could do to give a strangled half-cry as he was flung carelessly through the air. He landed hard on the ground with a crack, far out of the way, and lay still.

“Arien!” Alvére cried out, staring after his friend in horror and then turning back to face Nox, his terrified pallor almost matching the Caer’s own pallid tones.

He felt Val’s grip tighten on his hand, and glanced across at his twin. Their hazel eyes met for but a moment, but some understanding must have passed between them, as Al nodded.

Though both trembling and fighting back tears, they faced their imminent death together, and extended their palms, drawing - as one - upon their necromancy, to make one final desperate bid for life.
 
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"Wick Praise, Arianne! This is not the time to pull me in circles!" spat Aderyn as she struggled to keep up with the other witch. She saw people all around who needed her help, but as she followed Arianne, she saw the crowd become thinner and thinner. Where are you leading me? she wondered.

That's when she saw it, towering over the rest. She had heard of it before, but she never expected to gaze at such a terror. She paused in her tracks, shoes skidding on the ground before she stopped completely. Her heart jumped into her throat. The sight almost wrestled another screech from her lips but she kept her mouth shut. Gazing into the abyss in Lornaine tried to turn her mad, but this monster was going to turn her into something much worse.

She wanted to run. She did. There was no way she was going to get near this infernal creature. She couldn't look, because the more she looked... the more she looked, the more she saw, the more afraid she became. As the crowd made an arc around Nox, she could make out the red carpet he created in his wake.

Bile rose up in the woman's throat. She nearly doubled over sick, but the beast before her kept her eyes on him.

It wasn't until her head was smacked forward in a feathery assault did she snap to her senses. The white bird zoomed past her, catching her eye before he ascended once more.

You cannot face him. There are others, said a voice in her head. Let me fight for you! Look only at me, not at the wyrm!

Aderyn followed the bird until he swooped over the head of a pale boy. She recognized him slightly, but she could hardly figure where. What she did figure, was that this child was not lost or panicking as the rest of them. Ice lay around him, and so did bodies.

With a gulp, she approached him, but help a safe distance. Or what she thought was safe. She held up a hand to him.

"Stop!" she commanded. Her voice wavered, her hand shook. This was not her forte. Aderyn didn't fight. Gods, she was a medic. Was she out of her mind?



Ghislain had done a lot of thinking while he watched the imposter fight. The movements were almost untrackable, everything happened a second earlier than they expected. If he struck, he would have to do so quickly, but even with everyone else trying their best, it just wasn't good enough.

He rushed forward as soon as Crista's sword was parried and began to push his blade forward for a jab. Just before it hit, trying to predict the early movements of his enemy, he flourished his blade and went for a side slash for the man's calf, instead.



As they reached the scene, Coralie suppressed another screech. She stopped at the stands, met with splinters, gore, frost, and flames. Everything was chaos. More was happening than she could keep up with.

She gazed at the crisped bodies on the ground, feeling her mind go blank.

"Abel... Abel we can't... we need to leave!" she cried. "We... we can't... what in Wick's name... I... we're going to die."



The sound of jangling plate and mail mixed in with the frantic footsteps around them. All were running away, except for his.

I heard your voice.

A red cape fluttered through the swarm of people, and everyone confused it for the Order's.

I told you I'd come back!

The clear sword at his side began to glimmer, then it began to flame. Warmth poured through everyone around, but it didn't hurt them. It grew until it towered several feet overhead, swirling until it began to make a form, two lights creating a pair of eyes within the spectacle.

Don't you dare, don't you dare-

The flames consumed the red-caped, armored figure in the middle of the crowd and lifted him slightly off the ground, enough for an empowered leap. The figure cleared over the heads of the twins and came stampeding down with the form of a flaming winged horse surrounding his body.

Don't you dare tell me I'm too late.

He held the sword toward Nox, this lithe, blonde-haired swordsman, and faced the creature with the pegasus between them.

"Well, aren't you a brute," he said in Terran. "Cayra?"

"A big boy. Keep me close, Lucian, or else he'll do to you what he's done to the people here," said the spirit in the same language. The light collapsed slightly and reformed into something more threatening. Cayra bared a pair of canines and flexed a set of claws before letting out a prideful roar.
 
(Written by Script and Sentry)

As the witch approached him, Nathan turned his eyes upon her, his frosty gaze seeming to chill the very air around her. The young boy's expression was hollow, emotionless. It was clear he took no joy in his task, not like his craven father, but neither did his eyes carry guilt. Only emptiness.

"I can't," he answered simply, his voice as cold and detached as his stare.

Aderyn took a step backward, but she didn't run away. "Yes you can," she pressed as she shivered. She retrieved a blessing from her bag. "We can help you. I'm a witch. I can heal you."

"No, you can't." Nathan shook his head. "I don't think anyone can."

As he spoke, ice began to creep menacingly along the grass towards her, slow but purposeful. The air grew colder still, winter's grasp closing inexorably around her.

"Well... not with that attitude..." mumbled Aderyn. She admitted to herself that it wasn't the appropriate time, but not treating it as seriously as she could gave her a little courage.

As frost crept towards her, the witch took another step back before grabbing her necklace with one hand. With the other, she retrieved her knife from her bag. "Beast of Glutton, aid me," she mumbled. She ran the knife down her palm, creating a nicely sized cut, and bled freely onto the pentagram charm around her neck.

A summoning circle lit up in front of her, the lines so dark it had no form. Just as the frost reached the edges of the circle, something slopped out of the blackness. It was indistinguishable until it pulled itself out of the portal completely, and when it did, a disgusting goblin-looking creature with a spaded, white head oozed out. It had legs like a dog, but a body like a beetle. When it opened its mouth, it extended the length of its torso. Where it stepped, the frost, the grass, the dirt, was all consumed.

"You have called. I have come," it rumbled in a voice like a growling stomach.

Aderyn grit her teeth from the pungent smell of rot that the creature brought with it. "Defend me. Incapacitate the boy!"

"Very well."

The creature turned to face Nathan. It was almost nauseating to look at, but after experiencing horrors at the feet of Nox, perhaps it was nothing to him.

With a leap, Glutton sped forward, mouth agape, tongue hanging from the side, aiming for the boy's knee.

With a rush of movement that seemed all the more uncanny when contrasted with his frigid posture of a moment before, Nathan jumped aside, spurred by instincts that weren't his own. Jagged shards of ice formed in the air around him as he landed, shooting towards the beast. "You have a pet," he remarked, straightening. "So do I."

He brought two fingers to his mouth, then, and whistled sharply. "Samson!" he called. "Here boy!"

The air tore open at Nathan's back, offering a brief glimpse into a void of all-consuming ice and snow, and a shape dived through. The rift sealed shut behind the form of a great white wolf, surrounded by a swirl of wintry frost that was - in places - indistinguishable from its fur. Eerie blue light radiated from the beast's eyes, its maw, and from markings upon its body. Samson padded a few paces forwards to stand at Nathan's side, and where his feet fell, the ground froze.

Glancing down at his companion, almost imperceptibly, Nathan smiled the barest of smiles - the first shift in his expression since Aderyn had approached him. Then the smile faded, and he turned his gaze onto Glutton to speak in tones dripping with cold malice.

"Sick 'em."
 
SKREEEE!

The piercing wail of metal against metal echoed through the park. Elisabeth had caught Savien's blade with the metallic claws on her left hand, carving shallow scores into an already well-used weapon and ejecting flowering sparks. The Caeruleum knight then began to twist her wrist to wrench the sword from Durandet's hand, when a sudden impact to her other side caused her to flinch. The holy ammunition fizzled and seared against the dent it made in Duval's armor, until she shoved one paladin's blade away and peeled the blessed metal from her armor and discarded it. While the burning Caer's armor looked weaker by normal logic, it appeared to suffer little to no actual degradation in terms of strength, as if it was no longer simply steel.

Her scowl only twisted further as the paladins spoke. Now, it was time to go on the offensive. She first thundered towards Savien, dragging her blade along the ground at first before twisting back for an upwards stroke, more sickly flames spewing from its trailing edge. From the corner of her eye she could see Leandre charging, shield raised, but his attempts were quickly and easily rebuffed by a shoulder check that sent the paladin stumbling back several feet.


Before long, Arianne was face-to-face with Nox. His presence shook her, but she did not crumble nor flee. She remebered what she was told, but she would not let this stand. She wouldn't be able to live with herself. She leapt forwards, not giving the Caer lord even a moment to see her before lunging towards him to plunge her faux-blade directly into his chest. If allowed to penetrate, it would likely slip effortlessly into his flesh, just how effective it would even be would be for the witch to find out.

Not far from Fabre, a serpent of black smoke raced along the ground towards her, silent yet swift in its approach.


"Alright, we're going," Abel's voice was shaky, but he needed to be brave. If nothing else, then at least for her. He pulled her along by the hand again, no longer heading towards the action, but away. As much as his honor screamed for him to return, to defend the people, he dismissed it. There was someone depending on Lachapelle, and he couldn't let her down now. He ran a hand through his snowy hair and took a deep breath. If somebody got in his way, he was prepared to kill them. Meekness was not an option.


"Master Lacroix!" James, a suit-clad figure bearing Camille's family crest pinned to the lapel, had finally managed to reach where Lacroix and some of his fellow proselytes stood. He tossed a saber to the noble youth, who briefly checked its blade to verify it was sharp. Camille looked to Aaro as he suggested looking for them, but considered the Castellane guards' warnings.

"James, is my family at least safe?" he turned to his own guard.

"For the most part, yes. Your father took a little shrapnel, but we've got everyone out." The blonde mercenary looked down and placed a hand on Camille's shoulder. His face was painted with shame, more than anything. Lacroix himself bit the inside of his cheek nervously, but remained outwardly calm.

"And the students?"

"We're not sure. Only about half are accounted for, and quite a few are hurt."

The color began to drain from his face. How could so many disappear so quickly?
 
THOOM. THOOM.

The long reach of Elisabeth's weapon would prove to be a double-edged sword, as it made the likelihood of her becoming too thoroughly entangled with either of Aurelion's brothers for him to fire on her much lower. Provided Savien kept his distance sufficiently, the end of the fallen knight's charge would be accompanied by another two shots from the younger paladin's lawkeeper, sustaining fire in the hope of one of the bullets finding a weak spot or a gap in her armour. What they needed here was power armour, but having been scheduled for the sparring, Aurelion wore only his standard plate.

"Get clear!" Aurelion yelled, turning the chamber of his gun to slot an explosive round. They had to work with what they had, but he couldn't fire while Savien and Leandre were still within the blast radius.


The twins gawked in unveiled shock as the glowing fire spirit and the unknown knight dropped down in front of them, eyes wide with stunned surprise. It was Val that recovered his wits first, tugging on Al's arm. "Come on, let's go!" he hissed.

The two of them turned to flee under the cover of the newcomer's arrival, running towards where Arien had fallen.

In almost the same moment, a jolt of arcane lightning seared from above towards Nox's position with a thunderous crack. Carried upon currents of magic, Tara had lifted herself into the air. She was already beginning to gather another bolt of magic between her palms as her charges fled, intent on covering their escape.
 
(written by Script and CaerBear)

The world greeted Izaic with a slap to the chest, a silent half-scream, half gasp filling his lungs with burning air and sand. At some point, he must have rolled onto his stomach. What...what was happening? All around him were the sounds of war. Flames. Screams. Metal on metal. Shouts of fury. Pleading.

Calm down, Swigelf. Calm down. Take it all in slowly, and be subtle about it. He reminded himself, giving himself over to his training. The animancer who wasn’t had...impaled him. But somehow, he’d be spared a gruesome death. No. He knew how. He felt its weight, light as a feather against his bare skin. Mithral. One of, if not the, hardest magically crafted armors known to man, had saved his life. Inarin had saved his life. Judging from how each breath came to the proselyte in a ragged wheeze, however, told Izaic that either one of his lungs were compromised, or several of his ribs were broken. Nearby, within arms reach if he crawled and stretched enough, his sparring blade lay broken. Jagged.

Taking a chance, he’d turn his head towards the closest sounds of conflict, and he felt them go wide beneath his dented half-helm. His brothers, his sisters, were fighting his attacker, the imposter Noah, and he was toying with them as Izaic himself had been toyed with. The scene set off a spark of irritation within the wounded youth. A spark that instantly grew into a bonfire of hate.

Proselyte Swigelf would begin to rise.

The not-Noah continued to weave amidst the blows and thrusts aimed for his form, though as was inevitable when fighting so many well-trained foes, a few strikes found their mark as glancing blows. Ghislain’s feint came quickly enough to graze his leg as he moved to avoid the telegraphed thrust, but far from slowing him, it prompted his grin to broaden. A thin splash of blood sprayed from the wound, and he retreated back a few steps, turning to clash blades with Estelle as a two-handed swing descended towards him.

He pushed her off, in time to meet a thrust of Perrin’s lighter blade with the carapace-like construct protruding from his offhand, contort himself out of the way of a strike from Luca and weave, dance his way to maneuver the proselyte between him and a renewed assault from Master Dufort and Inarin both.

In the heat of combat, with so many foes to keep track of, the imposter did not immediately note Izaic’s movement. Swigelf still held the element of surprise.

He swayed to his feet, finding it hard to draw breath and walk at the same time. Gritting his teeth, he’d taste the familiar coppery taste of blood mixed with his saliva. Why, he did not know, but it was coming from somewhere. Oh how Izaic hoped, prayed to the Wick, that he wasn’t bleeding internally, and it was only some cut on the inside of his cheek.

Slowly, but as quickly as he could force himself to, the warrior in training approached the frey. Each step came faster, rage soothing away his pain, replacing it with purpose. Both hands gripped the broken blade with all their strength, somehow without trembling. The edge of the two hander carried no cutting surface, nay, it never had. But the wrenched tip of the sword, where once hammered metal had been twisted and shattered, came to several wicked points. It would be those points that led a vicious lunge, aimed straight for the center of the false animancer’s spine.

Caught unawares though he was, the imposter was well trained, and his battlefield awareness saved him from being squarely impaled. Hearing the rush of footsteps at his back, he whirled, pure reflex throwing him aside and leaving the thrust to score a slash along his side. It would heal within but a few short moments, but the damage it had done wasn’t physical - his rhythm was momentarily offset.

And in those moments the first solid strike of the combat landed, a thrust from Crista that drove into ‘Noah’s’ back, impaling him. He staggered away from the blade, giving a grunt of pain and spitting up blood, but didn’t fall.

“Not bad,” he muttered to himself, not spared a chance to taunt them any further as he backpedalled further to evade a charge from Luca, gaining space to reassess the situation-

THOOM.

That had been a mistake. The imposter’s neck snapped back as a bullet flew from Perrin’s pistol the moment there was a clear shot and tore through his skull, straight through one of his eye sockets and out the other side. He hissed, hand coming up to clutch at the burning wound, staggering. Consecrated ammunition, that would slow his healing...

THOOM.

This time, he lurched to the side, his good eye having seen the paladin’s finger compressing on the trigger. The bullet whizzed past him, the holy energy scorching his cheek as it flew by. The advantage was lost, he needed-

THOOM.

The third shot took him in the shoulder, and he dropped his sword. That settled matters. Not giving Perrin a chance to steady his aim again, the false Noah turned and ran, a sprint that carried him away at startling speed.

Perrin swore a curse, unable to track the creature’s movements as it fled, and lowered his gun. It was at that moment that his attention was quickly drawn to elsewhere on the battlefield by the onset of a brilliant conflagration. And with his eyes drawn that way, he saw him. The Caer. His attention wasn’t on the proselytes, but on- “Wick and Wyrm!”He swore. “Proselytes, get the hell out of here!” he yelled. “That’s an order!”

His command given, he broke into a run, seeking to go to the aid of the Castellane twins and the unknown swordsman and the two women confronting Nox.

Dufort lingered only a moment longer. “Charron, Duval - see to it that your classmates obey that order, or I’ll have you all expelled for failing to follow the orders of a superior,” she barked. “Now go! Sorrel, stay with them in case that imposter returns, their lives are in your hands!” Then, without a further backwards glance, she too was running towards the towering beast.

Izaic’s teeth chattered in his skull as he tried to call out after both the fleeing shapeshifter, and then the master, but found he had the strength for neither. It quickly became apparent that the proselyte didn’t much have strength for much anything, as without warning, the ground came up to meet him.

He barely managed to catch himself on his hands and knees.

The world was swimming in his eyes, with flashes of bright white spots coming in and out of focus every time he blinked. The taste of blood in his mouth was stronger now, but he was sure it was just a superficial wound from where the metal of his helm had impacted the side of his skull and cheek. Without much more of a warning than a gargled “Urghk!” Izaic relieved himself of the kebab from earlier, as well as his breakfast.

“Izaic!” No sooner had Perrin and Master Dufort run off than Inarin was rushing to his classmate’s side, dropping down to kneel next to him. The younger proselyte had been slightly bloodied by the fight with the doppelganger himself, but was studiously ignoring the small cut on his brow and the shallow gash in his upper arm in favour of checking on Izaic. “Are you- How bad are your injuries? Light, I thought- When-” Inarin cut himself off with a frustrated growl, shaking his head. This wasn’t the time to be babbling incoherently. He had to remember his training. He could keep a level head in a firefight. And he would. “Nevermind, can you walk?”

At his back, Luca was pressing his hand to a slash across his front, wincing. There was a disconcerting amount of blood, but as far as he could tell it was nothing more than a flesh wound. “We need to go,” he hissed through gritted teeth, his eyes on the fight unfolding around the Caer.

“O-of fucking course I can walk, what do you take me for?” Izaic snarled, though without any real hostility. Climbing back to his feet proved harder than he though it would, and he had to grip onto the Nuvellon boy to make sure he didn’t go right back down. Once completely upright, he found that the dizziness filling his head leaving him. Not completely, but enough so he didn’t feel at risk for another session of upchucking.

“You’re hurt,” Inarin mumbled by way of answer, hooking Izaic’s arm over his shoulder to help support his weight, then turning to face Ghislain and Crista. “Ready when you are, Dame,” he addressed to the paladin.
 
Savien grunted as his sword met Duval's claws, twisting his blade in an attempt to keep from being disarmed. Leon's shot saved him the hazard, giving Savien a chance to reset his footing and take another vantage point on his foe. A .40 caliber shot from this distance would dent even Monastic plate, yet Duval appeared merely staggered. Her armor must be exceptionally strong. Consecrated rounds would be no good unless they could penetrate to the corrupted flesh beneath - they needed armor piercing bullet or explosive rounds. And at this proximity...

"Get clear!"

"Shit," Savien spat. There was no way he would clear the blast radius without giving Duval an opening. Before he could come up with a plan, the Dread Knight charged him. The paladin fixed his feet, his keen eye predicting the trajectory of her blade. He plunged his sword forward, thrusting it flat beside the flaming weapon. Sparks seared, jets of fire fumed where their swords met. It's wasn't a parry. Straining the muscles in his arm, Savien let his sword guide Duval's as it curved upwards, inching the blade to the side as it travelled and leading it away from his torso. Sweet Selene, she was strong. It took every ounce of his already depleted strength, but he managed to redirect the strike, the wave of flames following the steel and unfurling into the empty grass.

He didn't waste a second. His blade inside her guard, Savien made a swift slash downward for her knee before throwing himself forward, beyond the reach of her claws. He hoped the strike would at least momentarily immobilized her.

"Andre!" He shouted to his fellow paladin as he jumped. He landed in a roll near his comrade. Agony shot up his shoulder at the impact, his wounds screaming through the motion. The pain was so great that he was unable to spring back to his feet, rolling onto his hands and knees instead. Hopefully Leandre had understood his intentions and would put his shield between both of them and Duval - giving them the protection they needed to survive Leon's blast.

There was no way they would be alone for much longer. The park was crawling with paladins. Reinforcements had to be on the way. They just needed to hold on whilst Lutetia's defenders mobilized. Just needed to survive...

---

Aaro clapped a hand on Jimmy's soldier, grinning through his own terror. For as much as his friend had changed over the last month, Aaro was glad that Jim still held the same courage and conviction which had made them proselytes in the first place.

"We're proselytes," he looked over at Elisa and Yuri. "Self-preservation isn't exactly a part of our curriculum." For a moment, he looked as proud and noble as Saint Lemeux ... before the mask cracked under a shudder of fear and a goofy grin. "...or common sense, for that matter. You get the idea. Jim and I are going back in there." He nodded to them. "You guys should get out, though."

Aaro wasn't a paladin. He wasn't about to charge into the thick of danger to face his death fighting evil. But to rescue his friends? That was certainly worth death. Even a death like this.

Jim had already run off, and Aaro poised to follow him. He stopped just short of sprinting away and looked over as Camille caught his saber. The young Lacroix had a decision to make.

"Cam, are you with us?"
 
Not thinking twice about what might happen to him if he happened to run into danger, Jimmy kept his pace quick, reaching down to snatch a broadsword on his way towards the fray. He could see Nox nearby and his chest started to thud with fear, but he refused to run the other direction. No, his friends were this direction and he wasn’t going to flee from them. They were his only family. For a brief moment, he wished he could turn into a lycan because there was nothing he wanted more than to rip Nox into a million pieces

“Come on... where are you guys…?” Realizing belatedly that he had gone off without Aaro, Jim hoped that his roomie remained behind with Elisa, Adrian, and Cam. Clearing his head, his gaze snapped up when he spotted Al and Val sprinting nearby. Cursing, he headed off after them, attempting to avoid Nox’s area as much as possible, though it would be satisfying to shove the sword down the bastard’s gullet. “No… let them deal.” Jim muttered, meaning the strangers facing off against the Caer.



Mia soon replaced the stick with a sword that she found discarded on the ground, deciding it would do her better if she got into something sticky. Glancing around at the carnage, the Proselyte felt her heart sinking, though the sadness was quickly replaced with rage. How DARE someone do this to so many innocents! With that anger radiating throughout her body, giving her courage, she soon came across several battles happening at once. “Wick…” She muttered before sizing up each enemy, trying to decide where she would be the best help while also making sure nothing was sneaking up behind her.

“Going to make them pay.” She slowly circled towards the kid who reminded her of Jack Frost, her gaze shifting towards his very scary pet.
 
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Nox hadn't advanced a step towards the twins before he found himself accosted from all sides. The mask his face wore twisted sharply, filled with irritation and deep seated contempt. How many of these roaches would oppose his will before their spirits shattered?

The first to appear seemed to step straight out of the pages of some long forgotten mythos, like the stories the Matrons used to reach to him during his childhood. The blazing light, the scarlet cape, the celestial steed, all of it was so cliche that the undead lord found himself more bored than intimidating. With a wicked claw raised to his own face to block out that aggravating light and warmth, Nox would turn towards the blade this foreigner was pointing at his chest, pale luminescent eyes fixed on the filthy immigrant's neck.

The creature between the two of them seared his flesh, even from their minor distance. Not enough to even pain the Caer, so full of fear was he that his healing factor was working on over drive, but occasionally smoking potmarks of cracked, black skin would sporadically appear all over Nox's exposed face and limbs. They would not last long, nay, they already seemed to be petering out in their frequency, but still...It whispered to him that the pegasus-turned-feline may be an issue. And its damned aura!

With several steps forward, Nox would draw his own field of influence deep into his core, concentrating it, and then unleashing it in a violent, manifested torrent. Roughly a meter around Nox's feet would freeze in an instant as sickly grey waves poured from the entirety of his being! Cold, cold beyond anything mortals could comprehend, like all the heat was being snuffed out by an avalanche of fel corruption. Deep gouges would tear into the earth, ripping it asunder as he began his charge towards Lucian...

But then the second interloper came onto the scene. A bitch, carrying some arcana-rich blade, snuck under his field of vision and slipped her weapon between his ribs! It! BURNED!!

His charge would halt, and he'd swivel on his heels, claw clenched into an iron hard fist that would come smashing into the side of witch-foe's skull if not stopped or avoided.

As soon as his retaliation began, however, Nox found himself beset once more, this time from the sky. A bolt of lightning, called forth with Nature's fury behind it, struck the top of his head, almost forcing him to his knees, causing his blow towards Arianne to falter, if only a tad. With a defiant roar, Nox's aura would double upon itself, growing even more intense than it had been seconds before. The corpses of his victims caught in its field would twitch and writhe upon the ground...as their souls...ripped asunder...would begin to pool towards their murderer.

Flooding his maw. Sacrificing themselves to the monster, willing or not, pulled into the abyss of Winter that was Nox's monstrous jaw, fangs, and tongue.

"ENOUGH!!!" He'd roar once more, swelling in size, adding at least another foot to his gigantic form in an eye's blink! His already demonic features would exaggerate themselves further, growing more terrible to behold.

And from behind him, sensing their Master's ire...the remaining Caeruleum Spawn would flood into the park, seven packs in total, each pack numbering somewhere between five and seven abominations. They came from the sewers, from hidden nearby alleys around the park grounds, one pack having tunneled their way into the festival proper, bringing with them more death, more chaos, more terror, their shrill cries mingling with their Father's furious bellowing, drowning out the sound of mortal screams, if but for a moment...
 
Spots danced across Arien's vision as he lay sprawled and twisted on the grass, blood seeping into the earth from the gouges in his skull. Spikes of throbbing, piercing pain shot through his head, and he let out a groan of pain. He tried to put his arm down to push himself upright, but the spike of pain that followed told him that it was probably broken. Fuck. Can't just lie here. Nox...

It dawned on him that the twins were probably already dead, his face twisted in a bitterly angry grimace. All this power, and he was still nothing before Nox. It wasn't fair. He'd paid for his strength. He hated this feeling of weakness. Using his other arm, he finally managed to push himself up far enough to look back at where he'd been flung from. The figures still danced and shifted hazily, splitting into double or fading behind spots of blackness, but after a few moments he managed to focus...

...and froze.

What.

With renewed urgency, Arien shoved himself to his knees, pressing his hand to his broken arm and willing his blood magic to accelerate his healing. He was bleeding enough for it. The bone snapped back into place, some of the sanguine upon his face burning away as he drew on its power. He staggered to his feet in time to spot the twins rushing over to him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jimmy and two of their bodyguards too.

"Arien!" Al came to a halt at his side, his expression shot with worry. "Are you okay? Light, I thought you..." he shook his head, not willing to admit he'd feared the worst.

Arien just shook his head, mumbling, "I'm fine" under his breath. His eyes were still fixed on the unfolding conflict, disbelief swiftly being replaced by horror as at once, Nox's terrifying visage grew all the more so, and Arien became more certain of the identity of the man his eyes were fixed on.

No, no, no. Not here, not now. You can't. You can't.

People never came back. Why did that rule have to break now?

"Arien, what's wrong? We need to find Inarin and get the hell out of here!" Al shook his arm, snapping him back to reality. Val's eyes were scanning near the ring, and they widened when they spotted who they were looking for.

"There! He's okay, they're okay!" he exclaimed.

It was at that point that Jimmy would reach them, followed shortly by Yuri and Adam. "Time to get the fuck out of dodge, boys," Adam said hurriedly. His face was a picture of barely suppressed horror. The death knell of the souls that Nox had drawn into his maw was like a chorus of agonised screams to the animancer's mind. It was all he could do to avoid retching on the spot.

Al nodded. "Don't have to tell me twice," he muttered.

"Help us get them out, too," Val pointed towards where he'd spotted Inarin and the other proselytes beginning to make their escape.

"Sure, sure," Adam waved a dismissive hand. "Just as long as we don't take another step closer to- SHIT, look alive!" The bodyguard brought his gun up in time to loose a slug into the skull of a charging spawn. "MOVE!"

Loosing a growl that was as much wolf as it was human, Yuri stepped between the trio of teenagers and the incoming pack of spawn, slamming a fist into the closest and pulping its skull. He spread his arms and caught another two by the neck, swinging each as an improvised weapon against their sisters.

Swearing, Arien looked to Jimmy. "Keep the twins safe," he said. "Get them to your friends, and all of you get out of here. I..." He turned back to the fight, clenching his fists. "Fuck. Fucking idiot. I can't go yet, go, just go!"

Not waiting any longer, Arien started to run back towards the fight, going against every instinct in his head that was screaming at him to flee.
 
Crista looked at Dufort incredulously. How could she expect her to leave the battle just like that!? Then Crista looked back at the injured proselytes behind her. I hesitated for a moment before turning on her heal and running towards them. When she reached them, they were already on their feet, one being supported by the other. Crista assisted them, switching her sword to her other hand before pulling their arm over her shoulder.

"Come one, we gotta go!"

She took off swiftly in the opposite direction of the battle, along with Ghislain and the two proselytes.

Madison had been during through the burning fair grounds searching for any injured survivors. The cleric ran back and forth between the shelter she had found and the burning embers that were Valentine Park. With what strength she had she supported and carried the victims of the attack back to safety. In her bag she had brought bandages, stitching thread, plenty of gauze, and several bottle of salve. She was between treating the injured she had found and making runs back into the park to find others. It was then that she spotted the pair of paladins and the proselytes with them. One of them seemed injured. She raised her arm and waved them over.

"Dame Sorrel, over here!"

Crista looked up when her name was called and saw the cleric waving to the from across the way. She knew if she wanted to get these kids to safety, the safest place was with a cleric.
 
Lucian watched the monstrosity carefully. The sight didn't give him warm fuzzies, but he was familiar with it all. The Corruption in Aelora, the attack on Westeria... yes, he was very familiar with grotesque horror scenes, buy this one certainly didn't want him to feel confident with this display.

Cayra didn't hesitate as the witch stood between her and her foe. She rose up in the air and pounced over the witch's head, reaching for the monstrosity's face with claws like white-hot iron.

As the screeching commenced, the knight's eyes scanned the area and observed the Spawn spilled from the orifices of the city. His sword was held high, ready for what more Lutetia had to greet him with.


Ghislain looked Crista's way to exchange a glance and a nod before they would begin to flee. "I'm covering you!" he told the other two, sword at the ready. Any Spawn that came by might have a challenge getting to the injured Izaic.


In tears, Coralie followed Abel and watched the world around her fall down. For all she knew, Ghislain was on the ground, bleeding, dead, calling for her...

And she was running from him.


"Oh, shit."

Aderyn felt the odds pile up against her every moment. She had her own way to escape and she had Naaz, but she wasn't keen on using the bird until absolutely necessary. Plus, it looked like she had another ally sizing up the icy wolf and his master. She wanted to yell at her to run, but she kept silent. She would need to be careful. Aderyn decided to create a distraction.

With her bloody hand, she took a fistful of her long hair and swiped the knife through it. "Glutton!" she called.

"This would work better if you let me have your eyes. Or your heart!" he roared, bounding toward the white wolf before him. As he did, his form grew, and the white snout of his split into four sections, lunging for the white wolf.
 
Samson jumped back, maw opening and spewing forth a blizzard of bitter, unnatural frost that threatened to wash over Glutton and render him a statue of ice. The wolf snarled and growled as the ice spilled forth, freezing the very vapour in the air where it passed.

Nathan watched without reaction, instead cupping his hands together and beginning to form a tiny luminous blue sphere in his palms, glimmering and shifting as it slowly grew in intensity. He cradled it gently, like one might a snowflake caught from a gentle snowfall. It would seem that he had yet to notice Mia, his focus on the witch and her summoned creature.
 
Jimmy glanced around the moment he reached Arien and the twins, noting the bodyguards arriving too. He flinched at the sounds coming from Nox and wanted to be anywhere except right there, but like he said before, he wasn’t about to abandon his friends. What he wasn’t expecting however was the park to be swarming with spawns. “No! There’s still too many innocents!” Jimmy was torn between wanting to help his friends and wanting to protect those that had no means of saving themselves. “Damn it!” Snarling, he slammed the broadsword he had found into a spawn’s face before snapping his gaze towards Arien before just nodding.

“Let’s go already! We need to get to Inarin and then back to Cam, Adrian, and Elisa… and fuck, Aaro too.” Jimmy watched Arien running toward the Caer and was lost as to what he was doing, but wasn’t about to let anything happen to Val or Al. Thankfully with the bodyguards, they had a chance, but the swarm was huge. He stepped in front of them, wishing for armor and praying that he would be able to keep harm from falling on them or any of them. “Can you see where they went?” Jimmy questioned, meaning Inarin and Izaic. He slashed at another spawn, before glancing through the chaos, hoping that nothing else or no one else showed up.



He hadn’t noticed her yet. Could she actually get the jump on him and take him out while he and his pet were focused on the other creature and female? That gave her some courage and she grasped the word in her hand tightly, calling upon what training she had gotten since coming to the monastery. Saying a very quick and silent prayer and thankful for the distraction of the woman, Mia sprinted towards the boy, intending on cutting him down from the back. She quickly closed the space between the two and brought down her sword intending on slicing through his body, though after her motion was already on the downswing, she wondered if stabbing him would have been better.

Wick, please let this work.
 
Two more shots caught Duval. Though, since she was ready, one simply glanced off of her pauldron, and the other embedded itself near the first shot but shared a similar fate. Elisabeth growled as her slash was -barely, yet still- avoided.

Savien's strike managed to slice through a portion of the nanofoam and kevlar between ebony armor plates, though his blade did not find purchase in the caer's flesh.

"Durandet!"
Leandre both retrieved his footing and noted Savien's plan, and raised his greatshield above the pair of paladins. From behind the barrier he heard thunderous footsteps and the clinking of armor, and braced himself for impact.

The ember knight raised her blade high, looming over Montagne and Durandet even with a similar stature. She gripped her profane greatsword with both hands, causing the blade to glow a dull red, then a bright orange as she struck down against Leandre's shield.

It did not hold.

Duval managed to carve through the steel wall and shear off almost a third of it, leaving a half-melted edge on both pieces of the cut metal. Leandre's arm was spared by an inch or two at most, but he still stumbled from the force.


If it wasn't for Nox's distractions and flinching, he likely would have crushed Arianne's skull, or at least cracked it with a glancing blow. Thankfully for the witch, the caer was slowed just enough that she could duck away from his hand entirely.

The radiating energy diverted away from Fabre's ankles if only by a few centimeters, and while Nox gathered energy the witch thrusted her blade towards his heart. It was then when the cluster of smoke surged before Arianne and reared up as if defending the Caer, and her blade stopped dead in its place.

The smoke dissipated to reveal Tethys, pinching the tip of the ethereal sword between two fingers. A porcelain mask turned and craned up to meet Nox's quickly growing visage, and she spoke loud enough unintentionally that not only he could hear her, but that many others around her could also hear her words.

"We had a deal, and now we are leaving."

Arianne attempted to voice disapproval, but Tethys gripped the collar of her garment and the two of them 'fell' into the smoke, as if a trapdoor laid beneath them.



"Come on, we need to go!" Abel continued to lead Coralie along one of many cobblestone paths in the park. Trees and stalls alike were engulfed in flame, and now filthy Caeruleum spawn roamed the destruction, and one had just noticed the two youths.

Lachapelle let go of Duval's hand and pivoted on the ball of his foot as the goblin-like creature charged towards him with bared fangs. It leapt for Abel's face, to gouge and claw at his throat and eyes, but it did not arrive to do so. With a quick motion of the proselyte's hand, glowing ethereal chains burst from the ground and latched to the spawn, before dragging it to the dirt.

Abel's face twisted into a scowl as he slowly spread his hands apart, the chains slowly pulling and tightening, as the spawn shrieked and gurgled. First joints dislocated, then bones cracked, until the ghoul was torn asunder, each limb pulled free from its torso. He turned to Coralie and reached for her hand, when the familiar black smoke appeared beneath his feet. A hand shot out from the pool and grabbed his ankle, and all Lachapelle could do was yelp as he was pulled under. If Coralie gripped his hand, she would be pulled in as well.


Camille winced slightly as Aaro asked him the question. His proselyte instincts all screamed at him to go, to join the fray.

Yet, he couldn't.

He needed to see his family. While his classmates effectively counted as such, they weren't his real family. Two forms of duty stood before him, but he couldn't die here. Not yet.

Lacroix offered a half-hearted shake of his head, before turning and walking away. James accompanied the noble, ever vigilant now that the spawn were unleashed.

The Lacroix were not going to be the next to topple to the Caer. Not today, at least.
 
"Wick!" Aurelion cursed. With the shield rent and Leandre's stance broken, the cover the Fortress could provide himself and Savien from an explosive round was too little for him to risk taking the shot. He rotated his clip again and loaded another consecrated round, firing a single shot aimed for the side of Duval's head before holstering the weapon and charging. He shifted his own blade to a two-handed grip, and hoping that the shot to the cranium would have at the very least disoriented the fallen knight enough to give him an opening, he thrust it forwards in a high lunge towards the front of her helm.


Nathan's focus was split between the gathering orb of frost in his hands and the combat with the witch and her pet, and so by the time he distinguished the set of approaching footsteps from the rest of those running around the park, it was too late for him to react. The sword came down on his shoulder with its full weight, cutting through flesh and bone as it sank down into his torso.

And Nathan screamed.

For a moment everything shattered, and his face twisted with the unbridled agony of a child never before exposed to a pain so intense. His legs gave out, and as he was sinking to his knees still screaming, the orb in his hands rippled, distorted, and exploded.

Ice burst outwards from the shattered spell like a supernova, freezing the very air itself in a flash for several meters around Nathan's position. The ground, the grass - and both Nathan and Mia - were swallowed by the frigid blast, momentarily obscured from vision by the magic's light. When it faded, all was perfectly still. Both Nathan and Mia seemed frozen solid, statues of ice rooted to the spot.

But then Nathan moved. The ice fell away from him like it were no more than a light layer of snow as he lurched forwards, pulling himself off of the now-frozen sword with a whimper and falling to his hands and knees. The blood dripping from the wound was freezing before it hit the ground.

Where Samson and Glutton were still entangled, Samson let out a vicious growl, and another burst of frost from his maw, before retreating to Nathan's side to take up a more defensive position while his master recovered.


"I think Lacroix has the right idea," Elisa said hurriedly as spawn started to spill into the park. She grabbed Adrian's arm and started to tug him towards the exit with surprising strength. "One of the twins' security guys said they were calling a car round to the gate, I say we meet them there, not stand here waiting to be killed!"


"Yeah, they're over there, I see them," Val replied to Jimmy. "I think I see where they're headed, follow me!"

"Yuri, I'll take point, you cover our six." Adam instructed, loosing another gunshot at one of the spawn before moving around to the front to Al and Val's side, pressing a hand to his earpiece. "Tara, we're moving out but we're being harried by ... ghouls? Lesser vampires? Fuck, I don't know. We need your firepower to keep them off our backs!"

In response to this, the flying spellcaster turned from the fray with Nox and swept across the field towards where Jimmy, the twins and the other guards were fighting their retreat. She pointed her palms downwards and a ball of flame tore through the air, blasting the pursuing cluster of swarm and either incinerating or scattering them on the spot. "Will that do?" she quipped, drifting down to join them.

"Just keep it up," Adam replied tersely as the group started to move. "We're not out of the woods yet."
 
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