Immortality's End: Return of Gods - IC

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"Oh... ok..." Archie mumbled as the halberd was taken off him. To be honest, he was a little relieved, as he hadn't really wanted it anyway - he wanted to buy it because he felt bad for the female blacksmith's apparent lack of business. However, he did look somewhat insulted when he was called an 'untrained warrior', his body hunching over a little in a sad manner.

"Hey now... not being able to use axe-spear not make Archie untrained warrior. Is nasty thing to say..." He protested quietly. "Archie knows he not graceful like swan, but he have his own fighty style. People undereser... esey... esis..." He paused, struggling to get the next word out for its complexity, "-underestimate Archie often. You are just like the rest..."

With that, the metal giant looked like he was ready to turn and leave, before yet another woman came out from behind him. Archie wasn't perceptive at all, so it was no big surprise even to him that he hadn't noticed. She was clearly Eastern, or as Archie called it: 'katana land.' She was dressed in somewhat revealing clothing like the ladies at the other stalls, but she seemed to have somewhat of a more refined aura about her that made Archie look down at her curiously. Her hair was also black - Archie's favorite - and it was hard for him to resist playing with her hair a little bit, but he managed to resist; he didn't want any trouble.

Archie seemed generally switched off in the whole conversation about 'katanas' and 'steel'. All he could hear was two people trying to say 'my weapon type is better than yours', which even Archie thought was pretty silly. Fights were decided by the skill of the wielder, not what type of sword they were holding, in his mind.

"Phantom Knights are defecting now, huh?" The Eastern lady said, poking Archie's armour. However, Archie didn't seem to react at all. He seemed to be more interested in the pipe in her mouth than processing what she said.

Instead of replying, Archie simply reached over and took the pipe from the girl's mouth in his fingers, looking at it curiously, like a child seeing a toy for the first time. Once he seemed satisfied with looking at the foriegn object, he reached over and gently placed the pipe back in the lady's mouth again. Only then did he actually process what she'd said.

"Umm... Phantom Knight? Archie not know Phantom Knight..." He mumbled with a confused tone. About twelve seconds later of deep thought, Archie's body suddenly hunched over in an insulted manner again. "...Oh... I see... you calling Archie stupid, aren't you..." He quietly said, his tone more sad than angry, gripping the bunny toy at his side for comfort. "...At least Archie does not dress like butterfly and chew strange stick. Butterfly lady may be smarter, but does not make Archie defect. He fight as good as anybody else..." Archie mumbled, his body clanking as he tried to scratch the back of his head, but remembered he had a helmet on.
 
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"What're ye foolin me midget? Man's Ollasian p-pure as day. Don't know nothin' bout any churches but I know fer sure they don't take midget ears. Gimme my pouch back 'n I won't bury ye in the mud,"

Good, it appeared the drunkard could think reasonably, even if his views were somewhat skewed. Regardless, Wolfram had the advantage he needed to get out of this situation. "Of course, my friend. There is no way I could condone such an act, none the less be involved. Thievery and desecration are two of the greatest sins one could commit and I dare not wish for such damnation."

"That true?" one of them asked of Ohma, "And who are you?" they said next to Wolfram, apparently suspicious of his being there as well. Perhaps it wasn't so fortunate they arrived.
Things seemed to be looking up with the arrival of the authorities; however, Wolfram wasn't entirely thrilled by how immediately they grew suspicious of him.

"Wolfram Kronschmidt, at your service." He began with a flourish and a half bow for introductions. "I am nothing more than a guardsman for an important Ollasian caravan who's taking in the sights during my break, although it appears I have been drawn into the conflict between the jovial one and the small one." The last thing he wanted was to be involved in this any longer than he had to, especially if Ohma was going to try and pin all of smallfolk's misdeeds on him. The faint sensation of dread told him that he wasn't going to like where this ended up.
 
How peculiar. Such a small child, yet she was incredibly knowledgable for one her age. And judging by her dress and the staff she carried with her, she was. "Perhaps. But ants should think twice before attempting sting someone so much bigger than them." Nyxia turned to face the young woman who had so casually approached her. But she had a feeling this young witch was not to be trifled with. Yet her small stature, and incredibly large hat made her appear almost... cute.

The girl asked about her magic. It's only natural, if her clothes were any testimony to her skill set, that she'd take an interest in such a peculiar sect of magic. But she couldn't exactly tell her where she found it. She looked down at the girl. Her face was so pale, it seemed she had spent all her time in a dimly lit library, where she performed her studies. Perhaps this girl would know something about her ring. She knew something for certain. At this point any information is good information.

"I'll tell you what I know. But first, I want you to tell me what you know about this. Tell me everything you know about what you just saw. If you can give me some valuable information, I'll give you some of mine.

She held her hand outward, indicating the ring on her finger. Of course, Nyxia would retaliate should the girl attempt anything unsavory. She had been searching for information for such a long time that she was getting a little more lenient. She also needed information on who this girl was. Such a young girl walking about on her own at a place such as this? There must be more here. It was a fair trade she felt. A question for a question, an answer for an answer.

"So then, who are you? A young witch here? You must have quite the story to tell."
 
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"Blade oil, check. Whetting stone, check-"
Lackluster imagination, check.
"You can shut your mouth. Or... Whatever it is you use to talk to me."

"Oh wait, I actually am sort of low on blade oil. See any sword artists?"
Sword... Artist... What in the world is a 'sword artist'?
"Blacksmith."
A- Oh... Well, my dear friend, I can't aid you in that manner. I lack proper the use of your eyes.
That isn't how this thing of ours works.

"Woah, you really are helpful, you have my thanks... Parasite."
Heh. Do You honestly want to talk to me that way, boy?
"Already did... Er... That's enough of the dialogue, go back to sleep... Or whatever it is you do..."
Heh.

Siegue rubbed his forehead as he made his way to what would be a sort of merchandise war between a family with daughters practically wearing bikinis to sell whatever they had, and a dark-skinned lady also showing a bit of bust. He found his morals strained, he'd be glad if only one of the two parties had blade oil. After a while of thinking he found himself looking back and forth between the two. "Darn it, Yiura just pick one..." He said to himself. "Maybe if I look at what they're selling." Siegue crossed his arms. He managed to wade it down to Eastern oil vs Western oil, but realized he honestly never compared them before, so he still couldn't choose. And... All three of the women had the type of merchandise that would draw even his eyes...

Siegue shook his head, initially going over to the family with eastern weaponsmith's kiosk, since they had more mouths to feed. Unless it was just a sham... Which it certainly did look like... This caused a taste of disgust to overwhelm him. 'What is this, indirect extortion?'
... But what if it wasn't? What if-
Siegue noticed that they made a sale, then another, then another.
Another one.
Another.
They certainly didn't need his coin, not at all... And the other one seemed to be doing well in sales as well. However one thing caught his eye... That armoured guy was Huge!
"Yikes..."

He looked at the half empty flask in his hand.
"..."
Siegue put it away so that he didn't do something stupid and temporarily mess up his hair colour, later placing his hand on his head. 'Well, half should last me for maybe a few more weeks... but, knowing my luck...'
He'd probably come across bandits.

This caused him to ponder his next action, perhaps he'd do well to return to Verdegris and honor his parents' graves. Maybe he could get some flowers here... "...Agh, forget it, I should just go get something to eat instead."
 
Catching the approach of a fifth presence in the corner of her eye, the Alkrisian officer glanced at the scantily clad newcomer with an appraising eye. Initially, Rue thought she was one of the sword-wielding girls hired to sell the competing stall’s weapons, perhaps to complain about the proprietress’ comments, but this particular girl seemed to different and far more confident. Older too, perhaps even about Rue’s age, if the white elf had aged like a human.

Although she had made a plentiful amount of comments, some observant and some maybe uncalled for, the silver-haired Akrisian stayed silent for the exchange that ensued between the Eastern woman and the Verdigris shopkeeper. Even when finally prompted with a price, she kept her mouth shut until the two finished. Toward the end, her foot was tapping, but intrigue was interesting, especially from the people that supplied valuable weapons to the armies of their respective nations. Indeed, if one of the Eastern nations could reliably craft their swords with Verdigris steel, or even out of an Alkrisian alloy, the cutting edge of those weapons would be nasty for one on its opposing end. In the end though, the katana was not a weapon type she personally favored.

“Would it, now? If it weren’t for the alloy of my sabre, I wouldn’t want to make contact with one of those blades forged with your steel.”

Immediately after, Rue snapped into negotiation mode. “How about forty five?” She was looking to get a discount, but she certainly wasn’t the mood to haggle, either. With seeing so little business, though, she was sure that the blacksmith would be willing to go a little lower.
 
As Captain Neron appeared from behind her, Elara simply shrugged, not showing any surprise at him sneaking up on her. At this point, she was rather used to the dour man's expression, or lack thereof.

"Ah, Captain Neron. Interesting question. Even if I had stepped in, what would be the point? The magics I prefer to use in combat aren't exactly tolerated in polite society, as you know." She shrugged at the man, her lack of care for the group of dark elves showing through. "Of course, things may have been different if the girl actually killed that pack of imbeciles, but that may have started a war, now wouldn't it?"

In truth, she wouldn't mind open warfare between dark and light elves. A pitched battlefield would be an ideal environment for a necromancer to thrive, what with corpses being freshly made by the second, ripe for her to reanimate. And yet, despite how much she wished for vengeance against the Alkrisians, she had a feeling that if her actions were to lead to open war, her government would not exactly be happy with her. Considering that the Compesian government were one of the few to tolerate her branch of magic, achieving her goal of vengeance would be rather difficult if her own people turned against her. So she'd bide her time. Ride this out until some other person sparked a war.

"Regardless of this motley assembly," She gestured dismissively towards the already-dispersing crowd. "Was there something you wanted, Captain? Am I being summoned?"
 
OHMA OHMADON
LOCATION: Festival | COMPANY: Wolfram, Drunkard, and the City Watch | MOOD: "Ugh. Now things are just getting awkward."
The drunkard wizened up quickly. He leered at Ohma and called him a midget. Tallfolk were all the same. Their sense of entitlement was as legendary as the story of the old gods. He barked out that the man next to Ohma was an Ollasian. Right, they were the religious tallfolk. Hm. The drunkard was sure perceptive, Ohma hadn’t discerned that at all. He narrowed his eyes at the other tallfolk. He supposed he could see it. Maybe. Honestly, he had no idea. There were small things that set people apart in terms of their geography and culture, but this tallfolk didn’t seem the overly religious type. Maybe it was the color of his hair, the shape of his face, the hue of his skin. Ohma didn’t want to strain his neck to take that all in, and so he didn’t.

The smallfolk was about to shoot back about how being from somewhere doesn’t mean one’s mental facilities were intact when the city guard slithered into the conversation. The drunkard accused Ohma again. Right. He should have learned his lesson by now about acting on impulse—just don’t. The smallfolk swiveled his head around to the Ollasian, only to have the man deflect the blame as easy as water off a duck’s back. Ohma should have seen that coming. Tallfolk loved tallfolk. Though to be fair to the Ollasian, Ohma had dragged him into it.

So, Ohma was just honest. “I don’t have your belongings,” he said. “Sir, are you sure you didn’t lose them? Maybe over by the fish barrels?” His voice lilted at the end of that, and he looked at the guards. “I saw the man careening over there before he came over here.”

Ohma considered patting Wolfram on the leg but just nudged him instead. “And I’m sorry for the misunderstanding. I do know Wolfy is an Ollasian. We have this game we play every time we see each other. We’re always traveling, you see, and we pretend as if we are strangers. We like to get each other in trouble, sometimes. I do realize that is rude, especially in the implication of your dearest belongings. So, here,” he said, digging around in his own coin purse which was far from being as girded as the Ollasian’s. “Some coin for your trouble.” Ohma was rarely so nice, but he also couldn’t afford to get hauled away. What if one of the information brokers showed up? What if Siegfried was around? Being stationary was not an option.
 
The carnival is spread like a web across the Bare Fields. Wider roads stretching from the center to the edges were maintained to decrease traffic, with smaller paths linking the slices together. At the center lied the political quarter, a space reserved solely for government officials and the places they rested. A tall but flimsy fence surrounded it, patrolled 24/7 by guards of every nation.

At the time, officials of Yismel were gathered in an informal meeting, perhaps moreso for geniality rather than true business. Of course, those of Alkrisia and Complies were nowhere to be seen. They sat inside a high-top tent, surrounded by servants who continually supplied the table with ever-expensive meals and drinks.

Two of Verdigris' Council were present, alongside six Mercrundyr statesmen, five cardinals of Ollasia, and two royal secretaries of two Eastern Empires. They are cordial with one another, and in their high spirits, welcome a newcomer in without hesitation; a Complesian, a dark elf, enters the tent cautiously. They are a general of the Complesian forces; one of the officials representing their nation. It seemed that the elves were finally ready to sit down for talks, or at least for the time being, to mingle with the other nations. It was a start.

The small party continued on for several hours before being interrupted by an ominous noise outside the tent. A low hum clung to the ground and vibrated within the tent. It was followed closely by a thin, black mist that permeated up through the dirt and coursed through blades of grass. A fire? Ollasian rituals too close to home?

When the walls of the tent were ripped to shreds, and with it, its occupants, they knew it was none of those things.


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@Jakers @Click This @GlassTrinity

"Oi!" the woman cried out as Archie took her pipe. She fumbled to take it back, reaching up with too-short arms. Eventually it was put right back where it was between her lips, and besides a glowering Archie's way, she seemed to forget about it in the end. "Wasn't saying you were stupid, matter of fact. You just have the look of one of them Baelwill Phantom Knights is all. Hair to heel, covered in armor. How'd you see out of that thing in battle?"

She shifted the pipe with a hand and puffed a few times, staring down Freya with an apprehensive look. "So you don't have any metal, huh?" She grinned and pointed the tip of her pipe towards the blacksmith. "What if I asked you to make a sword for me, then, hm? Think you could make me a curved sword with the 'right' technique? I'll pay whatever it takes. All I need is something incredibly strong. Strongest it can get. Can you do that?"

During Rue's stay at Freya's stall, Tiwht had seemed to wander off on his own for the time being, attempting to amuse himself other nearby stalls. His leave was only truly noticed, however, when the officer came running back to Rue's side in a fit of terror.

"Miss Selvare! We must return to the caravan immediately!" he panted. Any real awareness would have put context to his sudden fear; the crowd around them had suddenly dropped everything they were doing and begun to run.

Somewhere. Anywhere.

@CasketCase @Tyrannosaurus Rekt

The drunkard looked perplexed and scratched the top of his head like an ape before turning over towards the fish barrels Ohma had indicated. As if suffering of a disease of the mind, he walked away, forgetful of the entire conversation, presumably to the barrels. The guards however, remained put. One of them snatched Ohma's coin out of the air and quickly stuffed it into their pocket. The two guards, wearing full helmets that obscured their faces, glanced at one another before taking a stance that appeared far more threatening.

"We don't want your damn money thief! 'Sides, we ain't here on guard duty!" one of them sneered. At once they lifted their visors, revealing to Ohma exactly what he didn't want to see at the festival; two cronies of Seigfried, complete with their signature smug faces, grinning back at him. They quickly unsheathed their shortswords, startling the surrounding crowd. One of them extended a hand towards Ohma expectantly.

"Hand over the books and we won't have to get the real guards involved!" they shouted.

"No need to make a scene, Ohma. Just give it up. You can't keep getting away." The confrontation is seemingly cut short when the crowd behind the guards suddenly rushes past them, nearly knocking them, as well as Wolfram and Ohma, to the ground in their wake. Cries of 'something' coming for them surrounds the street. The two cronies of Siegfried don't seem to lose their intent, however, and straighten themselves up amidst the storm. They weren't going to forget their job, even as the festival seemed to end there and then.

The two guards rushed for Ohma, swords brought to bear.

@Reanimator Bob

"The smallest scorpion stings the hardest," the tiny witch said. She smiled courteously and tipped her hat upwards with a flick of her finger. Looking Nyxia up and down, it seemed she was appraising her, perhaps merely by her clothing and her expression. Her eyes narrowed with each pass before she finally spoke.

"Are you an information broker? I'm afraid I have little information to exchange. But if you consider your magic's origins secretive enough as a broker to need something in exchange... well that just makes it all the more enticing to know about!" Her eyes blinked at the ring she wore. The witch gripped her staff in both hands, using it as a crutch to lean forward and eye the jewelry closer.

"Ohommm..." she muttered, "I see... This ring afforded you that magic? Interesting." The girl sighed and stood up straight again. "Well it should be clear enough I'm a witch, no? Doesn't the hat give it away? Geez. Have we really been forgotten already? Unfortunately I've got little in the way of stories, unless you wanna hear some fairy tales my mother told me? I doubt those interest someone as gloomy as you. Her eyes seem to stare past Nyxia then, as if seeing something deep into the center of the festival.

"Perhaps we'll all have a story to tell after today."

@Psyker Landshark

"The war's already started, as should be clear. That would only hasten the inevitable blood being shed. Everywhere I go I'm already sure it's coming. There's litte we can do to prevent in. For now I'm merely keeping my eyes open for a paleskin that might think themselves brave enough to stab me in passing. It's the most I can do," Neron said, scratching the stubble on his chin. He cleared his throat and gestured with his head back the way he came.

"Indeed. Speaking of sparks, there's growing unrest around the political quarter. Alkrisians are stirring up trouble just outside the gates after hearing that one of ours is going to the talks this afternoon. Considering how makeshift the fences are, we can't simply rely on them to guard the interior. I'd like to have you back there, just in case things finally turn south."

A wave of screams draws near. Captain Neron draws his sword instinctively and turns to face the oncoming crowd of frightened people.

"Sooner, rather than later," he says.

@Ser K+ @ERode

The particular alley of food stalls Vaneil and Siegue found themselves in was of particular closeness to the interior of the festival grounds. The quality of the wares being sold was evidence enough that the more affluent were the primary customers there. Still, it wasn't the sort of stuff that one ate while wearing your finest clothes, served by expensive maids and placed on a platinum platter. Indeed, common folk could certainly eat the merchandise here, though they would be wise to select only a couple items at most, lest they expend their funds for the day.

There was far less advertisement here; sellers knew that their customers knew what they wanted. There wasn't any haggling here. Either you wanted to eat what was available because it looked tasty, or you simply didn't try buying it. Haggling was for those who needed a better deal, regardless of what they were buying.

Things were quiet. People purveyed the wares respectably or were shooed away by the much more respectable stall owners. Riff-raff were a rare sight in this street, though they could be seen at either end, perhaps dreaming a kind soul would notice their ragged clothes and offer them a meal they'd never experience again in their lives. Towards each end of the curved street, riff-raff were not the only poor sight to behold.

There was blood. The general chatter crescendo'd into a cacophony of screams and wails as each end compressed towards the center of the street. A wall of people collapsed in on Vaneil and Siegue, running from an unseen enemy.

"Ghosts!" they cried out, turning their backs upon each other to secure a spot further from the street's outer entrances. The cries of the murdered were drowned out by the living's fear, but even from amidst the sea of bodies, both could see blood, limbs, and viscera flinging into the air, tossed about like dirt dug by a dog.

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The carnival is interrupted by field-wide violence. Starting from the center and expanding outwards, down the largest streets and parallel into the side streets lining the way, a dark force massacres all in its path. Black figures wrapped in fog march unimpeded through the carnival, permeating each space like flowing water filling a container. They attack with supernatural force, felling citizens and guards alike with a grizzly apathetic nature. Pockets of resistance form around those more capable to defend against the black tide.
 
"Oh... I see... sorry for misunderstand." Archie mumbled when the butterfly lady apparently wasn't calling him stupid. Archie seemed to flinch a little when she mentioned 'Baewill Knights', his armour giving a creak as he shuddered a bit. When she asked how he'd learnt to see out of his armour suit, the huge man just kept silent and still, his breathing light under his helmet as if he was trying to ignore her question and push it away.

"Is long story. But... let's say it just... take a lot of practice." Archie eventually whispered, seemingly unable to move, and staring at the floor. "...Archie go now. Bye bye, butterfly." He added after a long pause, turning to leave, and returning back to patrol. He'd turned away from duty for long enough now. No more messing around...

~ ~ ~

It was after barely a dozen steps back up the path, however, when Archie's body stiffened at the sounds of screams and cluttered footsteps in the distance. The shouts of fear seemed to grow closer and closer, like a domino effect, until the very crowd around him started to sprint for their lives.
"...This not good." Archie mumbled, his fists clenching as his voice and stance grew serious. By the looks of things, people were in danger. Whatever it was, Archie was ready to do his duty. "GET BACK!" Archie screamed out to those who didn't look like what they knew what to do. "GET DAMN-HELL OUT OF HERE! GO! GO!!"

Pushing against the crowd in big, heavy, striding steps, Archie's ears rang at all of the chaos echoing around him. Children calling for their mothers. Men calling for their wives. And others just screaming to run, run for their lives. His breathing heavy, Archie's right gauntlet seemed to twist and fold in on itself, a slight glow coming off it as the man of metal reshaped the plates from his right hand and arm into a wide, sturdy shield. This wasn't just a simple thief or a simple stabbing. His quick walk turning into a heavy sprint that shook the ground with every step, Archie's worry seemed to turn to desperation as the screams grew louder, louder, louder.

And then, the Mecrundyr Guardsman saw the blood. Archie watched in horror as the people who couldn't escape the darkness ahead of him were cut into pieces. Showers of red sprayed from corpses as the darkness-consumed cut down any in their path, screams and bloody coughs of the innocent erupting as their last breaths. All of this murder. All of this bloodshed. Archie had seen it before, but never as bad as this.

The armoured man's body stiffened still for a moment. A pause came, before silent tears of pure anger seemed to drip down from the slit in his helmet, his teeth audiably scraping against each other in fury, the metal plates crashing as he clenched his shaking fists as tight as his body could muster. He was no longer a dopey man in a suit of armour. Archie Haulden was now a guardsman, with the intent to do anything it took to stop the onslaught.

~ ~ ~

The black fog approached, and began to envelop around a young girl as one of the dark figures grew near, ominous and merciless as it rushed to kill the crying child.

*CLANK!!*

The dark figure's ravenous slash stopped with a metallic boom, the towering figure of Archie standing in place of the girl just in time. A large dent in his shield, the pure strength of Archie's block was enough to send even the dark figure reeling back for a moment. Confused, the sniffling child looked up in confusion at the huge figure who'd got in the way for her. She whimpered, before Archie gently dropped his fluffy toy in her hands to calm her down, his shield and body held steadfast towards the dark figure.

"You run now." Archie whispered to the girl softly. "Archie will take care of it." The girl gripped the toy, rushing for her life as the dark figure began to recover. With that, the Archie turned back against the black fog, ready to do whatever it took to slow this onslaught. He knew he needed reinforcements. His shield had been dented in a single blow by this thing, indicating that it had great strength. But if his death could save even a handful... so be it. This was all he was good for.
 
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Was she lost? Yeah, she totally was.

Somewhere in between getting meat-jelly and heading away from the werefolk that she sensed, Vaneil had gotten lost, finding herself in an alley filled with food, drinks, and no weapons. There were so many delicacies, but at the same time, there was nothing that particularly caught her interest, not when her main objective was to get away from the werefolk and head towards the blacksmiths’ gallery. It was nice though, to see people enjoy what they generally would not be able to on a regular basis. Good food was the breeding ground for friendships, after all, and the raven-haired knight began humming a cheery tune as she searched for a way out. Occasionally, a particularly pitiful pedestrian received a few silver alms from the knight, but other than that, Vaneil ignored the riff-raff. They weren’t really her problem anyways. Most of them were Mercundyrian ‘citizens’, and there was, once again, no obligation for her to be concerned about them.

That changed the instant the smell of blood and guts struck her, the stench of iron slamming into her. Her sapphire eyes widened, her muscles tensed, and the knight rushed off. Screams of terror resounded in her ears before the merchants of the eateries could even hear it, and she followed her nose out of the alley streets.

Without a care for the wall of commoners running towards her, the knight grit her teeth and barreled through them. Pushing them aside, flinging them away, she cut a swath through the mortal masses on her way towards the chaotic epicenter. What stood before her was a massacre, a macabre festival that dark warriors reveled in. With black blades drenched in blood, they cut down all in their path, only a few groups of guards managing to withstand their onslaught. For a moment, Vaneil found herself wondering just where they had come from, and who their allegiance was pledged to.

But she was a merely a knight, not an officer or a strategist.

Casting aside those diversions, she dashed into the frenzy. Vaneil slid past the murder stroke of one of those shadows, her feet skidding on the bloodied ground. She wrenched a bastard sword from a dead man, narrowly dodged another strike, and retreated a few meters. The sword was foreign in her hand, too light and too soft, but she will use it regardless.

After all, a sword has no meaning except what its user grants it. And this sword, this shoddy, ill-maintained iron sword, will become a sword that cleaves through the black flesh of these cruel beings.

Another slash sliced a few hairs off the side of her head as her opponent lunged in. The being was definitely her match, at least in terms of physical prowess, and Vaneil found it harder than normal to outmaneuver it. There was something distinctly unnatural about its movements, as if it didn’t have bones or joints, and was simply a mass of shadows given corporeal form. Despite her specialization in evading attacks altogether, Vaneil was still forced to block many of those irregular blows. Sparks flew with each block, more and more nicks appearing in her borrowed sword.

And yet, an opportunity still presented itself, not through the flaws of this shadow-figure’s swordplay, but through the weakness of her own weapon.

Unable to withstand the force of a descent slash, the sword snapped in two, a shallow cut slicing into the heavy fabric of her combat dress. Reacting quickly, Vaneil struck the broken half with her fist. It hurtled towards the shadow, causing it to sidestep right into the remaining portion of her sword.

A slash that carved through its legs. A slice that dismembered its sword arm. A cut that split its stomach open. A thrust that pierced through its head.

Vaneil caught her breath as the shade dissipated, dissolving into the air. Wielding half a sword, she re-established her stance, hardened her resolve, and dove into the melee once again. These monsters were many times above the riff-raff that she usually defended Verdigris’s borders from, but even then, she was confident that she would be able to drive them back if she found her comrades.

Hopefully, reinforcements would bring her Starfall over as well.
 
Nyxia looked to the center of the town wondering what the hell this girl was talking ab-...

Black mist. Rising from the ground, spreading outward in all directions. From within, tall armored figures marched through melding into the shadowy haze, reappearing only to bring their blade down upon a citizen who had been running. Nyxia spent a moment standing in complete silence.

"It seems at getting the answers I've been looking for, but at what cost..."

Had they been tracking her down? No they would have found her a long time ago if that were the case. Out of the shadows a hand materialised, Nyxia barely had time to attempt to escape. The ring began to glow, as she attempted to make herself intangible, as a shadow.

It failed.

The dark knight was able to grab hold of her no problem. It had made itself Shadow Formed as well. Nyxia stumbled backwards from the force of the attack. After registering the fact she failed, she barely managed to escape fatal injury. His sword had cut her arm deep. She grabbed a quiver of arrows from the stall nearby, and as the being approached her, she drew one, thrusting it into his armor. The arrow broke instantly

The knight once more brought his sword downwards. Maybe she can't aborb the blow in shadow form, but she can dodge. The field of Dark mist was proving an advantage. Nyxia was already behind the night going for the kill by the time he finished his swing

*Clung*

Nyxia was sent flying into one if the stalls by the sudden collision with the armored fist of the knight. She spent the moment in a complete daze, as the being took a step. It was already upon her. A cold metal hand gripped her throat, tightening harder as he lifted her up off the ground.

This is not where you die...

Shadow Form would only buy her a second, but that's all she needed. Under the black haze she began to meld into the shadows. It was only for a split second, but it was what she needed to get free if his deathly grasp. She fell to the ground, landing on her feet. She backflipped, kicking the knight in the chin, he staggered backwards, his head tilted upwards. Nyxia saw her chance, drawing an arrow from her quiver. She lunged at the knight, thrusting the arrow into his chin, and kicking it further into his helmet. Half the shaft broke, as the arrow drove itself further inside. The knight fell to the ground. Nyxia ran to girl she had been talking to moments earlier, grabbing her arm, and dragging her along.

"We need to get moving. If you want to know the same thing as me, then we need to get to the bottom of this attack. I trust you can take care of yourself, so I expect you don't have a problem coming with me."

She ran through the screaming mob of people, trying to escape with their lives, until she noticed someone she recognized.

"Black Wolf!"

Nyxia jumped into the fray, standing back to back. Judging by the fact that she was currently equipped with half a sword, she would do better to have a partner-in-arms. Nyxia summoned her bow, sending an arrow through the air, and into the arm of one the knight.

"I do not know who you are, and you do not know me. You have no reason to trust me, other than we are all being targeted by these monstrosities. But I implore you to listen."

She shifted as another can at her, deflecting it towards the ground, as it retreated back into the shadows.

"If these being use the same magic I believe, then we have two solutions. Either we remove this dark mist, or we hit them with a strong light source."
 
This was...highly irregular. Elara hung back for the moment, simply observing the ghosts as she affixed her mask to her face. They seemed to be almost the physical equal of a skilled knight, if some of the people they were attacking were any indication. With a nod towards her captain, Elara turned and began heading for the makeshift city's political quarter.

The black wraiths were everywhere as she ran through the streets. Rather than engage every one she saw, Elara dashed past the attackers. She was given an assignment, and stopping to save every civilian in her path would only slow her down. Besides, a good portion of the civilians she ran past in this area had been light elves. There was no reason to come to the aid of trash.

One wraith finally deigned to get in her way, brandishing its blade at the masked, hooded woman. Elara frowned. Forget the civilians. Forget what they would think if they saw a necromancer in their midst. There was a foe before her, and she would see it dead. Just from watching them tear the guards apart, Elara knew that holding back against these things was tantamount to a death sentence.

With a twirl of her staff, Elara raised her hand as a black aura coated it, flowing out towards various freshly-made corpses in the area. The newly dead rose where they stood, groaning as they advanced on the black wraith. The figure tore a few ghouls apart with its sword, but eventually sheer numbers overwhelmed it, the ghouls dragging the ghost to the ground as they tore into it with magically-enhanced claws. With one wraith down, a few more turned to face this new threat.

Smiling viciously under her mask, Elara's only response was to raise more undead to stand against these creatures.

"I don't know what you are, but when this is finished, you will kneel before your better." She scoffed, pointing her staff at the wraiths. "Tear them apart."
 
Rue’s mercantile overtures were cut short by a frightening din, rising over the glee and glamour of the bustling blacksmith’s quarter. Turning to look about, the crowd had faltered and began to flee haphazardly. The security of the festival taking priority over her person affairs, Rue set down Freya’s dagger and began to break before she ran into the frantic figure of her executive officer at the entrance. Without responding to her subordinate, she assessed the immediate situation. Sparing no delay, she produced a flask and spilled its metallic contents before her, allowing it form up into an amorphous blob ahead of her position.
Only then did she respond, using her words as sparing as possible. “Tiwht. Situation?”

His response was unexpected. It was also alarming. The worse that could have been expected was a breakdown in discussions and unrest throughout the festival, but never in a hundred years had she expected magicked shadows to lay waste to the festivities. There was a need to know the actor, but now was not the time nor place. “Rally the guards if you can. We need to break to our camp. Cut down everything in our way.”

The pair immediately made their withdrawal, spearheaded by Rue’s metallic shield. Formed into a sloped V-shape, it acted as a plow as they cut through the frantic crowd. With their quickened pace of movement, it was not long before they saw blood. Ahead of them were nothing but the bodies of the dead. Dismembered, headless, torn to pieces, it was a gruesome sight. What persons still alive were streaming out of the area, several injured or dying. The smell of fresh death hit her, but it was not the sight nor smell that gave her pause. Ahead of them, Rue found the dark shadows playing their macabre game. Having slaughtered the civilians, they had begun to make quick work of the guards that had rushed to assist them. A group of Verdigris and Mercundryian forces had formed a ragged defensive line down a makeshift street and were barely holding out. Unfortunately for Rue, that was the direction that she needed to go.

Without further hesitation, she drew her sword, and Tiwht his lance. The metallic plow had once again formed back into a blob, rushing towards the hazy forms of the guards’ attackers. Moving forward with haste, Rue also engaged the wretched figures, shifting past one as it brought an incorporeal cleaver where she stepped moments ago. Together with Tiwht, they danced between the dark warriors, poking and stabbing towards the quickly faltering guards. Rue had been lucky; she’d caught one of them off-guard with her mercury wall, engulfing and crushing the form of one of the hellish warriors. As it dissipated in a cloud of black mist, however, it was clear that they met their match. Dodging and weaving between attacks, nicks slowly began to appear on her uniform, and she found a small scrape cutting into her arm. The white-haired elf was forced to recall her metallic familiar; the liquid form intercepted a blow too close for comfort as the three embattled figures continued to make their push to the other side.

The pair of officers finally made it to the other side. By then, it was clear that this was no mere attack, but one that was occurring on a grand scale. Right now, they needed to consolidate forces, regardless of race or nationality. Whatever was left out of the decimated ranks of guardsmen would not last a minute more when the best of the Alkrisian forces on station were forced onto the defensive.

“Guards, with me! Fall back! This line cannot be held!”
 
OHMA OHMADON
LOCATION: Festival | COMPANY: Wolfram and Siegfried's Men | MOOD: "I really should have seen that coming"

Ohma narrowed his eyes as the drunk wandered away without the coin and without any words. He was about to withdraw his hand of coin until he felt it snatched up by the guard. He leered at them as they deposited it within their coin purse. Something felt… odd.

They shifted from lowly street guard to something far more cruel. Shit. He’d been had. They only gave him a moment of panic before they shoved up their visors revealing Seigfried’s lackeys. Well shit! Ohma could mentally kick himself for running into this trap, but it wouldn’t do much in this situation. One guard called out for him to surrender the books before he got the guards involved. Right. If he just let the books go then they’d have no reason to keep him alive. Ohma would be lucky if the guards were actually called, and he wasn’t just skewered on the street.

The other stated that Ohma couldn’t keep getting away. Hah! He would show them.

At that moment, a flood of guards rushed past them. Ohma half expected them to stop and join what looked like their comrades in arm. Instead, they kept moving. More screams punctuated behind Ohma, but he had to ignore them if he was going to win this fight.

“Wolfy,” Ohma said, his hands quickly conjuring magic. “I know we haven’t been friends that long, but you have to believe me. These are bad people. No matter how they try to paint me. They are bad. I’ll pay you, or sleep with your, or whatever you want if you help me.”

Ohma blasted the closest of Siegfried’s men with an eldritch blast. It shot off in a light of blue and purple, hopefully stunning his target. He then manifested a blade to parry the next guard that laid upon him. The blade appeared in blue light and hovered around Ohma, attempting to block and strike at the man. Ohma lifted his hand crossbow and aimed it at the man. He released a bolt, hopefully harming his attacker.​
 
@Jakers

The shadows were slow, methodical, and yet seemed mindless. They were organized... too well organized to be living things. They shared their senses, turning to targets simultaneously, striking in synced patterns even the greatest minds couldn't hope to find faults in. Archie's opponent took a step back from his shield. Though it had been dented, it was not so weak that the barrier could be broken and made completely useless; it still served its purpose for Archie. Still, it was useful only so long as the guardian could intercept attacks.

As four other shadow knights enclosed upon Archie, it seemed as though his chances had become questionable. Their arms raised in tandem, ready to strike down from every angle. They were careful; Archie could not simply bait the strikes and dodge. They were waiting for Archie to make the first move.

There was a dull moan from behind Archie, and one of the shadow knights dissipated into black mist upon the blood-soaked dirt. The Eastern woman from before was revealed from behind the descending curtain of blackness, her hand held tight upon a sheathed sword at her side.

"You might look tough in that armor, but you ain't enough to take them all on!" she said. The knights shifted their attention briefly and seemed to reconsider. Two struck out against Archie with their swords, while the other two squared up against the woman. She attacked with blinding strikes, a curious style Archie had never seen before, but could easily chalk up to Eastern culture.

Those that were struck by the knights were unequivocally dead. They made no more sound. As the crowds behind them dispersed further from the festival streets, only the sound of a ghoulish, dead air blowing gently over the fields could be heard. That, and the low hum of arcane magic that haunted the ground.

@ERode @Reanimator Bob

The small witch seemed intent on something far different than merely surviving. Her eyes remained glued to the interior of the festival grounds, and she spoke to Nyxia from the corner of her mouth. Her voice had become uncharacteristically mature and serious. Even as the knights around her did battle with the archer, she remained in place and apathetic to the fiendish assailants.

"I have other matters to attend to," she said. The pale witch began walking off down the street, opposite the direction Nyxia seemed to take. The knights that took to striking at the witch indescribably vanished in a puff of smoke, the only indication of her defending herself being the abrupt and brief ripples in air around her person. She disappeared further into the grounds, turning at the street corner ahead and for the interior of the festival.

Where Nyxia had met with Vaneil, the people had vanished, replaced only by empty or ravaged stalls and the company of dismembered body parts. The shadows were gathering in greater amounts, coursing through the spaces between stalls, searching for souls to reap. At least a dozen surrounded the two girls, silently marching for their position.

A tent cover tore open behind Vaneil and a shadow knight surged forth ready to strike. A sword flew threw the air. Before the knight's weapon could cut into the girl's back, however, it split in two and flowed lazily as mist to the ground. The flying sword came to a halt just at Vaneil's side; a claymore. Her claymore. From down the street, she could see a comrade wounded and struggling to reach her; three black swords stuck through his chest, pouring blood into the already drenched dirt he crawled upon. His hand was outstretched in a throwing motion and a strained smile.

Knight Aewill collapsed onto the ground, having achieved his mission in arming a junior of his.

@Psyker Landshark

Though the bodies had already piled up for Elara, their disfigured, weak selves were still not quite enough against the number of knights present. The horde of zombies was cut through at an alarmingly quicker pace as soon as Elara had thought herself steady and immersed. Captain Neron followed closely behind Elara, defending the necromancer from flanking attacks with sweeping blocks and stabs. His side sword was constantly in motion and his feet darting to and fro across Elara's sides. While her makeshift army provided the fodder, Neron provided the finesse to get through to the political quarter.

As they made their way down a wide main street for the center, they found themselves approaching what seemed like a pocket of resistance. When they neared, however, it became apparent it was more like a pocket of devastation. Surrounding a small pale girl donning a witch hat were innumerable shadow knights. Try as they did to approach the girl, they only served as distractions. Even then, it seemed like they were failing in that job as well.

Neron gestured to the girl and exclaimed for Elara to follow. Prideful as he was of his own skills, the tiny witch seemed far more capable, and better yet, like a walking holy ground. They'd be safe nearby her, if anything. Neron dashed through a wall of knights, breaking their forms with a series of strikes and forming an opening for Elara to get through as well.

The girl paid little mind to the two as they walked up to her side. She continued her casual walk to the center, eyes forward and face stern.

"You must be a Burned Witch, no?" Neron asked. He kept his eyes active, of course unable to put his full trust in the girl's ability to ward off the darkness. "Where are you going?"

"Political quarter," she responded.

"You're not going to escape?"

"The spell is anchored to this land at the center. I'm going to see if I can dispel it," she said, nodding her head side to side. Neron looked ahead past the shadow knights that gathered at their front.

"Who did this? Do you know?"

The girl merely shrugged.

@Click This

The guards, a mixture of individuals either scared out of their senses or firm in their resolution, eventually all came through to hear Rue's command. Nary a moment was spent looking over her to see she was a light elf; even the eyes of Complesians seemed blind for the time being. They nodded, grunted, and rattled their weapons in affirmation, and began to encircle each other, facing outwards, before moving towards exterior of the festival.

A voice rang out among the crowd, feminine and valiant.

"Listen to orders! Move as one! We will regroup with greater forces at the outskirts and return! Verdigris! With me to the forefront!" A golden sword was raised above the helmeted heads that surrounded Rue, and there was shuffling of several warriors to make for the side that faced the festival's interior. A war cry sounded out as weapons met with the black swords of the misty knights that approached like creeping death.

Even as the Verdigrisians in her midst rallied to take the brunt of the attacks during their retreat, there were still many side streets to go as they fell back; many of the side streets had already become rife with shadow knights, who began to flank the gathering. Lesser guards shook in their armor or showed no fear at all. Warriors from every walk of life stood before the onslaught, but they all shared in one thing:

A will to live.

@Tyrannosaurus Rekt

The first of Siegfried's men took the orb straight to the chest and cried out as he fell over onto his back. Were it not for the terror of being trampled by the crowd that still flowed around them, he might have laid there for any more than the split second he did. The guard rolled back onto his feet and continued the assault just behind his comrade who had already clashed steel upon Ohma's ethereal blade. Occupied by the block, the mook was an easy target for the crossbow bolt that had quickly pierced his armor and chest. He was easily put down, falling over and into the next life.

The first of Siegfried's men took several swings at Ohma, each time being parried by the floating blade. Before he could make another attempt however, he was run through suddenly by a black blade from behind. Blood spurted from the wound in his neck onto Ohma as the guard choked on his own ichor and fell to his knees. A knight of shadow stood behind him and took no moment to offer Ohma the ability to run. There was no rest in the massacre for the unholy knights.

With a thrust far faster than that of the guard's attacks, the shadow knight aimed for Ohma's chest. The magicked blade intercepted, albeit only just. It struggled against the weight of the knight until finally it was shattered with a sharp punch from the black warrior.
 
Vaneil almost stumbled as that nickname resounded through the desolate slaughterhouse. Front flipping to evade the strike of a shadow knight, she lashed out as an arcane arrow pinned the ink-like being’s arm down. Another flurry of fatal strikes reduced it to black mist once more, as an unfamiliar face was revealed behind the disintegrating knight. A light elf that she did not recognize. A Mercundyrian archer? Why did she know…

Oh, must have been from that little bout with Welkins or whatever.

Leaping back a few steps closer to her new ally, the raven-haired knight replied, “Call me Vaneil. It’s not windy and the sun’s already quite bright. Don’t know any magic, so good luck with your solution. I’ll buy you time s-”

A shadow knight tore through the canvas before she could finish her sentence. Taken by surprise, Vaneil’s eyes widened as she raised up her broken sword, moments too late to block.

Ping!

Starsteel cleaved through shadowsteel, the shadow-warrior’s blade flying off as Starfall slammed into ground, clouds of dirt flying up from the impact. In that moment, Vaneil threw the broken sword at her assailant. The shadow knight caught it, dark tendrils forming a mystical blade over the shattered blade. It brought it up to block, and was split into two even halves as a result.

Another dirt cloud rose up as the tip of Starfall sundered the earth, Vaneil smiling ferally.

Reinforcements at last! The counterattack begins now!

Turning towards the direction her sword was thrown from, the Verdigrisian knight was about to rush in to regroup with her allies when an unexpected sight stopped her. There were no reinforcements. Only Aewill, three swords run through his body, his flaxen hair splatterd with gore, his armor broken. A strained smile on his lips. A hand outstretched, reaching towards his sister-in-arms.

Behind him loomed three of those abominations, tearing their swords out of his chest as he fell forward.

The knight fell on the ground, blood pooling from those grievous wounds.

Vaneil’s eyes hardened. Her spirit sharpened. Her veins bulged. Her knuckles whitened. Her blood boiled. Her muscles burst.

“AUROREAN VEIL: MOON RING!!”

The invisible blade that was the essence of the sword swept outwards as she swung horizontally. In a fifty meter radius, along a horizontal plane, everything was sliced apart. Even the shadow knights that surrounded her was no exception, the first few disemboweled as the others managed to block that unseen strike with their swords. Even with that, however, they flew back from the sheer force, loosening the encirclement.

Dashing forwards, gouts of paved earth flying up in her wake, Vaneil slammed into the trio, Starfall straining against the guard of her opponent as its shadowsteel boots made long tracks in the dirt. Before the knight could recover its composure, though, the Black Wolf swept its feet, before jamming her sword into its chest five times as it fell onto the ground.

From behind, the two others swung diagonally, forming a cross. Diving below the strikes, Vaneil rolled past the two shadowwarriors and reached Aewill’s body. Her fingers felt his pale skin and almost recoiled when she couldn’t feel a pulse. But no, that was just because she was wearing gauntlets. He had to still be alive.

She picked up his body, draped it over her shoulder, and ran off, legs pumping as hard as possible away from the gathering horde. Vaneil had to find the others as soon as possible. Amongst the Verdigrisian knights, there should be at least one person who had healing magic, right?

“Come on, Aewill! Verdigrisian knights don’t fight to die! So stop dying! Stay with me! I still need to get back at you for telling the Orcs about my nickname! Shit!”

She turned and dodged and ran, until finally, off in the distance, she could hear the voice of her commander, Captain Milthri Gartensia, ringing in the distance, a beacon of hope in this nightmare scenario. Shadows blocked the way to the congregation, but those were irrelevant.

With a battlecry, she ran into the madness, Starfall parrying and deflecting many strikes that fell upon her, while Vaneil ignored all others. A heavy punch to the side cracked her ribs, but she grit her teeth and beared it. A dark blade sliced her right thigh, setting it aflame with pain, but she remembered Knight Aewill’s wounds and ignored it. A jarring impact damaged her wrist as she blocked an axe strike head on, but it was fine. Her own injuries didn’t matter. Aewill’s treatment was more important.

And then, she could see her allies once more. Balor. Charlotte. Fareez. Rhell. Sarith. And so many others, ragged but fighting on with determination. Kicking off a stall, she leaped up into the air, landed into the center of the survivors, and shouted, “Anyone know healing magic? Aewill needs healing, NOW!”

After a moment, she turned to her valiant captain, and said, in a more subdued tone, "Knight Vaneil Swordbearer, ready for duty."
@Asuras @Click This @Reanimator Bob
 
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"I may be Ollasian, but not all stereotypes are true." Wolfram retorted, taking a few steps back from a situation quickly evolving into a full out brawl. Despite his mercenary ways, he was never one to directly involve himself into such conflicts. He was more of a "distract your opponent and suck punch him" kind of guy. Fortunately, he had just the thing to play to his strengths, and for what timing! The original harassers of the small kin lie dead on the ground thanks to a knight clad in black. If he had the time for such things, Wolfram might have pinched the bridge of his nose and rub his temples in disbelief of the shenanigans that had befallen him.

"Ye gods and goddesses, and you wanted me to enjoy this?" He said in complete exasperation as he recalled Ohma's first words to him about the festival. Retreating just a few more steps as the clash of metal and magical grew just a bit too uncomfortably close to his person, he would process to produce a flask filled with a pitch black fluid from his person. A light shake was given to vessel before the stopper was pulled with an audible pop, giving him the results he needed as the flask grew scalding within just a few seconds. Flinging the flask, flames spouted from the opened vessel as it spun through the air and smashed into the armor of the black knight. Glass shattered and the dark concoction, now completely exposed to its catalyst, oxygen, fully ignited and set the knight alight; however, one could never really know how someone reacted when set on fire, so Wolfram immediately set out to plan out his escape.

"I suggest we flee while the opportunity is ours!"
 
A heavy yet steady breath came from under Archie's helm, seemingly relieved for the backup from the Eastern woman. It was true Archie couldn't take on these for by himself, and he knew it. But amidst this chaos, was 'winning' even the objective here? Was 'winning' even possible? All these deaths... all these bodies... all this blood. Archie's heart felt like he'd already failed, and he felt like not caring.

But... no. There were still people that could be saved, like that little girl, and although Archie wasn't fully sure, perhaps forces were fighting the dark figures from other sides. And if these dark figures could think and breathe, then they would feel the wrath of Archie Haulden. He would make damn sure of that. He, alongside this Eastern woman, would do the best they could until more reinforcements came.

"Then... we will do it together." Archie said, his tone deadpan and metallic in response to the Eastern girl. "You take care of them two. Archie has your back." He said, putting his back to hers to fight and hold back two dark figures, whilst she unleashed her incredible flurry of attacks against the other two.

Both of the dark figures eventually lashed out at Archie, trying to get at least one solid hit on him by attacking from different angles. However, raising one shield to one slash to block it, the metal around Archie's shieldless left hand twisted and crunched, forming into a second, slightly-weaker looking shield used to block both slashes at once in unison with his other. The metal man's body twisting into an intricate position, both of the strikes gave a metallic smash against one shield each, denting them again, but it was still enough to get rid of most of the damage, and Archie's poise remained firmly unbroken.

But Archie knew he couldn't block forever. When his armour was damaged, he was damaged.
As the two dark figures recovered from both being blocked at once, Archie went in for a counter-attack, the shape of one of his shields quickly thinning down and folding into long spike, like a lance. Deciding to focus one down at a time, Archie stepped forward, aiming a thrust at one of the figures with incredible velocity. The thrust sent the dark figure flying, making it leave a trail of dark smoke behind it as it hit the ground, staggered. It wasn't dead, but Archie doubted it could survive more strikes like that.

However, the second dark figure took the opporunity after Archie's lance thrust, seemingly going for a high blow for his helmet. Instinctively, Archie raised his shield upwards, but it turned out the strike was a feint.
"...Huh...?! -Oof!"
Quickly, the dark figure took advantage to hit Archie's lower body, the blow smacking against his right leg and leaving a large indentation in his armour, and a tiny amount of some sort of greenish-red fluid seemed to trickle down his leg. The huge man staggered a little, but although he should've fallen, he remained steadfast, reshaping his metal boots in a way that stopped him from falling, but prevented him from moving for a while.

The dark figure didn't stop his onslaught, punching and slashing at Archie with relentless strikes. Not being fooled twice, Archie managed to block the majority of the onslaught with his shield, although it was getting somewhat battered. The dark figure reeled back for a moment, wound up for a power attack to seemingly finish Archie off, and let the terrifying swing loose.

Just as the hit was about to slash Archie's metal body across the side, however, his shield smashed and redirected the blade sidewards, parrying the attack perfectly. The dark figure stumbled over, and was helpless from its stumble from Archie's brutal stab right into its neck with his lance/hand. A spray of black splashed against Archie's armour, before the first dark figure was surely dead.

However, the second dark figure had long recovered by now, and had been waiting for Archie to attack its brethren. Archie was fully open to an attack from the side, and the dark figure knew it. Going in for a series of slashes, instead of trying to block, Archie just managed to take a few of the hits, his shield arm notably scrunched up and dripping red-green from taking these attacks, before he grabbed the second dark figure around the waist, his obscene strength showing as he managed to tackle the dark figure to the ground.

Kneeling on top of it whilst he'd bought it down and using his weight to his advantage, Archie grabbed the head of the dark figure, and slammed it against the ground repeatedly, each hit against the earth creating a small, growing crater in the ground. An furious growl coming from the metal man's teeth, Archie kept smashing, smashing, smashing, smashing, until the dark figure was no more but a crushed head atop a body, lifeless and still.
"Grr... ARCHIE HOPE THAT HURT LIKE HELL! DIRTY KILLER! DIRTY, FILTHY KILLER!!"

Getting back to his feet, a damaged and dented Archie took a slow, pained breath, before looking over to see how the Eastern Lady was doing. He could only hope she hadn't fallen. He'd barely managed to take out the two dark figures himself; he'd need a lot of time for his armour body to 'un-dent' and go back to normal. His whole body felt like it was on fire after that fight... but he'd gotten used to that by now. He could only hope the Eastern Lady had managed to clear out her two.

"Butterfly? ...You okay, yes?" Archie paused, his fist clenching and his body limp with grief as he stared at the many pools of red and viscera left in the aftermath of the dark figures' genocide. "...Please be okay. Too many death of nice people... too... too many death..."
 
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Ohma smiled wildly at his success, but that turned dower as he was attacked. He concentrated on his mystic blade, placing his hands upon Siegfried’s rapier. He wasn’t the best at assault, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t defend himself. Yet, everything happened so quickly. The first man went down from his bolt, and the other charged him faster than he expected. He winced in his final moments, a regret he could have in death. Yet, the final blow didn’t happen. The man before him crumpled as a black knight stood in his place. Ohma took a few steps back. He dispelled the mystic blade and instead worked on a protection spell.

The spell never succeeded, though, because the black knight went up in flames. Ohma watched as the figure became swathed in a sea of fire. He turned to Wolfram, to find the other’s pitching arm forward. The man had saved his life. Dammit. Well. He supposed there were worse tallfolk to be indebted to.

Wolfram yelled at him to escape. Ohma nodded. “That sounds like a fine plan, friend,” he said. He turned away only to find more shadowy figures and death. Shit. Their escape plan was crumbling around them. Ohma squeezed his eyes together and worked together a quick illusion spell. Suddenly a vision of the two of them spurt off in every direction. The smallfolk looked upwards. “You may have looked a bit fatter than you were.” He winked, but he tried to draw Wolfram away from the fighting. “I owe you my life. So, I can have your back as we flee this. Yes?” He smiled. “Though, I would still love to call you Wolfy.” The creatures were all around them, a few turned away with the illusions, and others were busy with the various other guardsmen, mercenaries, and fighters. That didn't mean, though, that they wouldn't turn their blades on Ohma and Wolfram at any moment. And while his tallfolk companion seemed capable, he was unsure how capable he was.

"We need to get out of the central hub of this area," Ohma said, looking around. "There." He pointed towards an area that was less covered in those creatures. It was possible some people had already carved through it, or that it remained opened from luck or chance. Either way, the smallfolk began to run that direction and hopefully out of the fighting.
 
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The appearance of the Verdigrisian commanding officer was both a boon and a burden. With two commanding officers, for all intents and purposes the same rank without synergy, diction of orders and line of battle would become a messy sort of thing. But the captain was actually a leader of the troops there and not an officer without troops to command as was with Rue and Tiwht. While it wasn’t ideal, the rallying of her Veridigrian counterpart allowed the pair of Alkrisian officers to take the spearhead of the retreat, pushing through against the magical abominations. They were making slow but gradual progress towards the military camps on the outskirts of the swiftly crumbling festival.

Leading the charge, Rue maintained their line; playing her strengths, the formless metallic blob had taken the shape of that of an armed maid, taking and soaking the hits for other guards as she and her subordinate forged forward. Progress was difficult; at every corner and every intersection, shadow warriors seemed to pour in from all directions, expertly enfilading their ranks and harassing the flank. Taking advantage in an eventual lull in battle, Rue doubled back slightly, finally allowed herself some time to make an introduction to the Verdigrisian captain that had been holding their retreat so far.

Holding out an arm in gesture, she greeted the golden-sworded knight. “Major Rue Selvere of Alkrisia. You’ve done a tremendous job holding our retreat. Would it be this meeting be under more favorable circumstances.”

Catching the frustrated calls to aid of what appeared to be a Verdigrisian knightess shouldering a wounded peer, she responded to her call. “The Alkrisian officer at the front was a field medic. It’s not healing magic, but seek him out if you cannot find a healer.”
 
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