Immortality's End: Return of Gods - IC

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This Black Wolf, or Vaneil rather... her style was very familiar, even with the use of such a large blade. Aurorean Veil. A sword art, focusing on jumping in and out of the targets effective range, only moving in to strike when the time is right. Nyxia had seen this in the arena many times, though only a few seemed so well learned in the style as this one did. However even as the knight called for a medic the onslaught continued.

More of the Phantoms closed in rushing at them. As Vaneil stood over her fallen comrade, Nyxia was never allowed rest from her bow string. A sword appeared from the shadows, forcing Nyxia to retreat slightly. She flipped backwards, sending a bolt into the eye of one soldier, who dissolved into the misty haze that shrouded the ground.

Nyxia did her best to keep the knights at bay, but there were just too many for her at this time. But it seemed reinforcements had arrived, even if only in small numbers. Nyxia knew wasn't ready to be a hero. Far from it. Her life mattered more than that of the others. She retreated to the back lines.

"If the life of this man matters that much to you, run now."

She turned to the Major who had just arrived, as well as the other officer beside her. While Nyxia never liked authority, she knew it was her best chance at getting to the bottom of this, and getting out alive.

"Well then Rue, you and your men keep these things off me. I'll see what I can do about removing this haze. They seem to be well-trained in the same magic as I, so if we remove the haze, their movement will be hindered significantly."

Nyxia Began focusing her powers into her ring as it glowed a dark purple. It was clearly taking some of the haze into itself, but it was not likely not nearly enough to make a difference. She knew that even just the slightest more light could help them finish this off. It wasn't much, but there was definitely a small area around the group which had been cleared of the haze.

"This is taking all the power I have to clear this space for now. Whatever is creating this is likely more powerful than just these phantoms. I suggest retreat if you would like to guarantee survival."
 
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"Terrible food." Siegue complains walking out of a foreign restaurant. "No wonder they didn't have any customers besides me... No, that's a rude thing to say... Maybe their competitors..." He notices a corpse on the ground... "Are..." Then another... 'Hm... This could be why... I should look for survivors... or maybe... follow the sound of fighting?' Siegue unsheathes his broadsword. He hated having to resort to using it, but this time and age was one that required one to be equipped. Which he typically was, unless he had to resort to using something so treasured. This was probably one of those times. "Maybe I should just watch..." -People die, yeah that obviously was something he'd let himself do. "..."

Siegue sighed. "Well..."
He hurries towards towards the sound of fighting, surely his sword could be of some worth.
And he wouldn't have to use-
"Oh dear, something seems to have occurred when I was in rest."
"Yeah, apparently."
"... So there are phantoms involved, eh? That changes things."
"Huh, how so."
"I can't read them as well as I can read others. And there are alot of others."
"So you're saying that right now you're pretty much useless?"
"Hey, when you say it that way, it sounds mean, Sieggy."
"Does it?... Wait, Sieggy? Please, don't start treating me like a child."
"...Just keep heading in the direction you're going."
"..."

After a few minutes he arrived to spot what he thought he would. Fighting. He however wasn't so sure about who to help. Everyone there looked a little suspicious. "Oh well... First things first..." He had to help thin out the phantoms.

Hopefully him jumping in wouldn't scare anybody.

"Manitou. Tell me when something or someone tries sneaking up on me." Yiura muttered. He steps up his pace and cleaves through a phantom. He loses a bit of his balance, thanks to a lack of resistance. One down, a ton more to go? Or... Did it just retreat to the other phantoms? Well anyways... "...This shouldn't be that hard... And so he figured, until he later found himself surrounded. "Mm..."
"Are you going to..."
"No, that most likely would not help me right about now."
"... Suit yourself."

Siegue positioned himself to parry his way out. Or at the least, jump off a phantom once they attack.
Only...
They just stood there, looking at him, awkwardly.
"Maybe I can just leave them..."
"What are you thinking? Hurry, kill them and get out of here before we both die!"

Siegue scoffed. Once he died, Manitou presumably dies too anyways... Or is freed... Or something, what does it matter to them. Siegue inevitably will die...
"Shut up and concentrate... They aren't attacking now that I'm surounded."
Siegue stood there watching the phantoms.
The phantoms stood there watching Siegue.
"This is strange." Siegue acknowledged.
"Indeed. They've suddenly become non-hostile, I'vent a clue whether this is because of you or not... Is there... Perchance a larger one anywhere?"
Siegue looked around. "If so, I can't see it." He muttered. He heard a bit of guttural growling. "But uh... They could be taking the time to somehow formulate a plan..." He kicked a phantom out of the way and started backing off. For whatever reason once he was out of the circle of phantoms, they swarmed him.

Maybe that was because he hit one...

Two rather...

Siegue very quickly became overwhelmed. "What the! Grrk!" He's knocked to the ground and generally beaten up. 'This got out of hand in a hurry!'
"Need some help?" Manitou asked in a plain tone. "It sounds like you need some help out there."
Siegue brings his sword down on a phantom. "Fine. Fine." He says, strained, punching a couple others off of him. He then gets scratched by a phantom, causing him to rear away.

Siegue lets out an exasperated sigh.
"... Thisreallyshouldn'tbeashardasitisrightnow..."

"You think it's because you're outnumbered and surrounded?"
Siegue shakes his head. "Nuh uh. It's me, I know it's me... Something's... Wrong with my stomach..." He mutters returning to a fighting pose.
"Maybe it's something you ate?"
"..."
"..."
"... I may need help..."

Perhaps he should have just, not eaten...
 
Elara stayed close to the Burned Witch as they ran through the city streets, straining her magics to raise as many corpses as her body and mana supply could withstand. With Neron as their main heavy hitter for the moment, Elara relegated her minions to screening duty, freely sacrificing their unlives to provide openings for Neron's blade and to shield her two companions. The girl seemed to be able to dispel the darkness somehow, but like her captain, Elara didn't put her faith in that lasting forever. Whatever magic the Burned Witch was using, it likely carried the chance to run out if the girl was too overzealous in its use.

As they fought through the city streets, the small group eventually came across a much larger collection of both Verdigrisian and Alkrisian knights. Despite pursing her lips in distaste at the sight of the light elves, the masked woman stepped in front of the group, motioning for her undead to stay behind her for the moment.

"Hold." She called out forcefully, slamming the tip of her staff into the ground. "Before you jump to any conclusions, know that I am fighting these wraiths just as you are. I have no idea of their origins, or of their goals. Can we work together for the moment? The girl with me is a witch that claims she can dispel this darkness if she reaches the city center."
 
@ERode @Reanimator Bob @Click This @Psyker Landshark

With each success, each block, each fallen shadow knight, and even each spillage of blood, the unified forces seemed to be all the more driven to exit the macabre carnival. Their total movements grew increasingly more synced and efficient as they understood one another, raising shields for one another, taking opportunities to strike where others had created them. If there was ever a representation of what the festival had dreamed of for the future, it was this.

Swords were extended to guard Vaneil and Nyxia's entrance, welcoming them into the folds of shifting soldiers and roused hearts. Towards the back, Vaneil was met with the unbroken smile of Captain Gartensia who quickly gave the knightess a traditional Verdigrisian salute; a closed fist held at the side and angled up towards her cheek.

"Good to see you here Black Wolf Vaneil. Join our glory!" Though Aewill was in clearly critical condition, the captain appeared no less energized. She offered a brief frown before nodding to Rue who had pointed the girl towards a supposed healer in their midst. "I've seen worse on men! Aewill shall surely live to tell the tale of this fight!" The golden-haired girl turned on her heels quickly and swung her sword to intercept a charging shadow knight. Her blade was a series of multi-colored lights that easily cleaved and dispersed the bodies of her enemies. The shadow knight had nary a second to bring its sword down before the longsword of light vanquished it.

Though Nyxia's ring appeared capable of sapping some of the fog from the earth, the perpetual flow of it from deeper inside the festival offered her no hope of staving the onslaught. Knights continued to appear from the woodworks, sometimes rising from the very ground in their presence, and no amount of patience on her part was going to change that.

Through miracles, more fighters and survivors showed up during their retreat, sometimes making it into the formation, and sometimes falling dead before they could reach the shaky safety. As they neared the outer streets, a group of three, walking unperturbed further into the festival grounds, approached them. Two Complesians and a small witch sallied up alongside the formation and offered a sudden and powerful boost in their defenses. Elara paused, prompting the witch to stop herself. Captain Gartensia paused her boisterous fight for a moment to speak with the necromancer. She eyed the witch, seemingly doubtful of her abilities, but nodded to Elara in the end with conviction.

"Knights of Verdigris! To me! We will escort this witch to the center and dispel this magic!" she shouted, raising her sword again. Her countrymen and neighbors alike responded with an equally aggressive cheer, and continued their campaign to live. The Verdigrisian forces split off with the witch, Elara, and Neron, leaving Rue to command the retinue of unceasing men and women.

A hundred feet lay before them, the ends of which showed no sign of black magic. Just a little more, and they would be free from the hell...

@CasketCase @Tyrannosaurus Rekt

The vacuous zone Ohma had taken note of only lasted for so long, as the fiendish warriors had already begun to collapse upon the imaginary path from each side. If they could just get through...

As they took their chances down the smaller streets, they found themselves walking in upon a scene of carnage in the larger festival street. A swathe of bodies trailed in the wake of a phalanx of sorts. The defensive formation slowly inched for the exit, plagued from three sides by endless knights. For the time being, they seemed distracted upon the retreat, leaving Ohma and Wolfram a moment to at least follow suit. The moment they approached or passed, however, they became targets of the knights all the same.

@Jakers

The Easterner fought swiftly and perfectly, each strike seeming like a pre-planned scheme hatched years before it was executed. She never seemed to block, resorting to side steps and intercepting slashes to kill the combatants before they could even take a swing at her. Her hands moved quicker than Archie could follow, sheathing and unsheathing the curved sword in split seconds. The woman's eyes never seemed to blink as she fought, even as her muscle-tearing movements continued.

Strike. Dead. Strike. Dead. Strike. Dead.

The woman was clearly more skilled than Archie; he could tell that much by how many knights she had already vanquished in the time it took him to take down two. She purposefully moved from Archie to take on those knights that had begun to gather around them. It seemed a miracle she was there to help; had she not been, Archie would surely have been killed by the horde.

Still, despite her efforts, the army wasn't about to disappear. The enemies were endless it seemed, and even she was beginning to falter. Sweat began to glisten on her forehead, and her gritting teeth, gnawing on her pipe, signified anger that had once been absent.

"We can't do this forever, Metal Man. I'm not used to fighting multiple opponents, believe it or not, and my breath's beginning to run dry. See an opening? We gotta scram," she said, eyes twitching side to side as she sized up the approaching five knights around them.
 
Vaneil let out a sigh of relief as it turned out that one of the Alkrisian officers could do some healing after all. With her own spirits energized by Captain Gartensia's assurances, the raven-haired knight ran up to the officer amidst the battle. "I'll leave my brother-in-arms in your care, sir," she said, saluting him, "Please do what you can!"

With that, Starfall once again was held in two hands, and Vaneil examined the situation. They were losing men, but they were also getting better and better at cutting down these shadow knights. More and more survivors were joining up as well, from Nyxia using her magics to temporarily drive back the shadow knights to a curious trio that claimed that the child they safeguarded could permanently chase off the foul creatures that emerged from the festival grounds. She didn't give it much thought, though, and simply nodded.

After all, though people were high in spirits, despite the carnage and the loss that surrounded them, they were low on actual solutions. If her golden-haired captain was willing to place her trust in these strangers, then so will she.

One hundred feet away was the city center, a minuscule distance normally, but an unfathomable one when swarms of black blades beset them at every angle. Despite the tight defensive position that the guards and knights formed, the shadow knights emerged from the very earth itself, prompting a flurry of strikes to put down the monsters before they could wreck internal havoc.

Blood still oozed from her injuries, but Vaneil ignored them.

She had debts to settle. She had duties to fulfill. She had burdens to uplift. She was a knight of Verdigris, and if her mission was to clear a path, then she will, for the sake of Aewill, who brought back Starfall, and for her comrades, who stood beside her in this maelstrom.

"Captain, allow me to clear the way!"

With a powerful stomp, Vaneil stepped up to the vanguard, Starfall pointing towards the dozens of shadow-knights, parallel to the ground.

"I am the night sky. The winter moon. The northern stars. The herald of daybreak."

With a feral light, Vaneil channeled her soul into her sword, her veins bursting as she pushed all her strength into her arms.

"With my spirit in my hands, my comrades at my side, and my ancestors behind me, I proclaim this."

And, with a burning soul, she roared out.

"AUROREAN VEIL: THOUSAND GLINTS!"

Starfall became a blur, countless flashes lighting up in front of Vaneil as the sun bounced off the godspeed blade. Blood vessels ruptured underneath her gauntlets, the shock of pain and stress ignored by the Verdigrisian knight. Destruction was wrought in a fifty meter radius before her, the shadow knights blown asunder by the vicious, distance-ignoring strokes. For three seconds, hundreds of blows rained down in the area, reducing stalls to rubble and scarring the earth. With the wrath of a war-god, she single-handedly opened up a path with Starfall.

"Go," Vaneil spat out, a final horizontal swing driving away the shadows for a second or two longer, before she sank her sword into ground, spent.
 
Archie blinked under his visor, unable to comprehend how many of these dark knights were popping out of nowhere. Where were they coming from? Was it an army? To say the least, Archie was confused and bewildered. But, as if she were sent from the very heavens, this katana-wielding lady was slashing these knights in single swings as if they were peasants. Archie watched in awe as this woman was saving him, a Mecrundyr guardsman. And whilst he was grateful, Archie still felt somewhat humiliated and ashamed.

Still, as good as this woman was, the opponents just seemed to be infinite. When she suggested a retreat, Archie looked around. The dark knights were literally attacking from every angle, forming a circle around them. However...
"Archie can not see an opening," He began gravely, but the side of his body clenched up tight. "But... he can make one!"

The side of Archie's body quickly became reinforced and spiked, turning him into what was essentially a human battering ram. Having just enough space to take a few steps back before the dark figures came within melee range, Archie charged up, before storming directly into two of dark figures, shoulder barging them out of the way like bowling pins.

"COME, COME!!" Archie yelled out to the Eastern lady. It wasn't anywhere near enough to kill the two he'd pushed out the way, but for a brief moment, there was a gap in the circle. Archie wanted to keep fighting, but... even his simple mind could comprehend this was some sort of spell, summoning an infinite supply of these dark knights. Catching his breath and putting his armour back into normal shape when he'd cleared a good distance, Archie turned back to the Eastern Lady.

"...You not hurt... good. Is good..." He muttered. Archie seemed relieved for a moment, but his body hunched over as he was reminded of all the people he'd failed to protect. "Archie has fought werewolf, bandit, dark mage, but... nothing like this. ...Today is bad day. Very, very... b-bad... *sniff*... day..." It was discreet, but it was still obvious to tell that the massive man was crying. Shedding a few tears, Archie gripped the front of his helmet with his gauntlet, shaking it to pull himself together.

"A-Am sorry. Ignore Archie. We still have time to do what can." Archie mumbled. "Problem is... Archie thinks his fellow guard is... gone. We must group up with other force..." Mecrundyrian guards were inexperienced compared to most. There were a few, like him, who held great experience and were valued. But compared to the other nations here... Archie doubted many of his fellow guards were still alive against something like this. He couldn't rally them. Not that he was much of a leader, anyway.

Archie looked stumped and lost in the carnage. But suddenly, like a ray of hope, he heard a scream in the distance, followed by an explosion-like sound that seemed to shake the very earth.
"AUROREAN VEIL: THOUSAND GLINTS!"

Seemingly thousands of flashes of star-like light blasted around an area in the distance, the excess light flashing off Archie's armour, causing him to look up like an amazed child seeing a meteor for the first time. He kept silent in awe, before finally saying,
"...Archie hopes that sun was fired by friendly. Is beautiful as the Southern stars..." He paused, before adding, "Either way, Archie thinks we should going there. Power like that could give us upper tunity." He murmured, clearly mispronouncing 'opporunity'.

Raising a shield, Archie looked back to the Eastern Lady.
"If you want come, please stay behind Archie. ...Me know you can take care of self, but is better if you survive instead of Archie. Dirty knight could jump out at any moment, no matter how trained butterfly's sword arm is."

With that, Archie began to head to wherever the flash of light came from with the Eastern Lady, unless she had any better or alternate ideas on where to go.
 
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Wolfram made a face similar to one would take if another had requested to sleep with his mother. "No, only the women I bed may call me 'Wolfy'. In fact, you should address me as Mr. Kronschmidt for saying that." Had their situation not be so life-threatening, he may have said that in jest, but he had neither time nor energy to bring up a laughter in his breath. Thankfully, the small one's illusions were able to mask their escape for the time behind, but he noted that each step they took through each alley brought the risk of being trapped. With his Ignis flask already used, he was left with his mace, a sanguine dervish, and that thing. Maybe if he had time, he could scrounge up the incantation to some spell that could boil these knaves in their blackened armor or something, but it was hard to do any research while running.

"I fear the central hub is the fore-bearer of what lies throughout these grounds." He noted aloud, eyes fixated on the bodies, the gore, and flames left in the wake of these demonic assailants. It didn't take much longer after that before the two of them found themselves on the verge of alerting these knights of their approach and despite himself, Wolfram chose to let Ohma determine their fate.
 
Luck seemed to be on their side, if only for the moment. The entire area was filled to brim with these knight-like monstrosities. They moved from one emptied path to another, each one smaller than the last. Every time they took a step forward, their previous footsteps were practically trampled over.

Ohma tried not to panic. He'd gotten out of tougher scrapes, he kept telling himself. Yet, the nature of that thought was based purely on lies. This was all unnatural, all surreal, and all acutely terrifying. Yet, the smallfolk swallowed down those thoughts. He'd have time afterward, once he'd made it out alive, to quiver, quake, and question the nature behind such an attack.

Another turn and they reached a street where the bodies of the knights had been hewn down like so much wheat. Ahead were allies, possibly. Ohma didn't know, but what he did know was that they were not the knights. "Finally," he said, breathily—and far too soon.

The wake of bodies left by the people ahead was much like viewing a shell covered shore before another wave crashed upon it. "My father's rosy ass," Ohma cursed. "If we're going to get to those people up there, we need get past these knights—and fast." Considering they were not moving the way of him or Wolfram, they were cutting forward. Right, Ohma needed to move—now.

These knights were heavily armored. There was no way that his illusions could abate all of them, and more so, that power was more useful to confuse and control his enemies. This street didn't offer much in the way of control, and there was not much for Ohma to use as a defensive position. So he had to make a fast and flashy offensive and hope for the best. "Alright Mister Kronschmidt, if you truly are the religious type, give the powers that be a little wink and nudge for us. We're going to need it."

Ohma loaded another bolt in his hand crossbow and spread his fingers out before him. He released his Eldritch blast. It fanned away in multiple balls of glowing light. They were definitely noticed, now. A few of the knights were taken aback by the blow and stunned, if momentarily. While the ones that weren't, focused their attention on the small folk. He knew he couldn't lose a step, and so he pushed forward, using his size to slide underneath a heavy swing and shoot a bolt into the back of the knight's head. It crumpled, albeit there seemed to be something wrong. Ohma didn't have time to fixate on it.

The next knight took advantage of Ohma being turned away and swung. The small folk jumped out of the way, but just barely. The blade's tip nicked his enchanted clothing, and while it didn't pierce it Ohma became acutely aware of the power behind that blade. It could easily bypass the clothing's enchantment if it was thrust at him. Ohma released another blast, this one concentrated, at the knight. It may have been the light or the power itself, but the knight reeled back, and Ohma used that moment to load another bolt and launch it directly into the face of the knight. It fell as well.

Ohma knew he didn't have enough bolts to dispatch all these knights. He needed to rely on his others weapons. The smallfolk was already feeling fuzzy from releasing so much magic at once, but he pushed through it. He should have enough strength to get past these knights—or at least he hoped so. He conjured his blade, probably the strongest spell in his arsenal, and drew Siegfried's rapier.

The knights didn't give him much reprieve as he moved forward. This time, two came him. Ohma hoped Wolfram was behind him and well. The smallfolk sent the blade towards one of the knights, and he parried the other knight's blow with this rapier. Ohma tried to roll underneath the legs of the knight, but it apparently expected that and caught him in the side hard with the flat of his blade. Ohma landed sharply on the ground. The knight raised his sword and swung down. The manifested blade caught the knight's blade and held it here long enough for Ohma to get up. He dispelled the blade momentarily, using the momentum of the knight against itself. It fell to the ground. Ohma conjured the blade again and poured enough magic into it that the blade thrust down and through the knight's armor. The other knight that had had the blade's attention first moved on Ohma. The small folk sent the blade towards that knight. Its attention on Ohma allowed the blade to spear it's back. It crumpled as well.

Ohma pulled himself up. He touched his side, and it stung. Shit, he probably broke a few ribs. He was almost there, though, he could see the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel and the literal group of soldiers ahead.

That was when yet another knight, stood before him. It was taller than the rest, less bulk, and wielding a long, sweeping sword. Ohma paused, hoping the knight would go first. It didn't. Ohma didn't have time to wait, though, those that he and Wolfram (hopefully) dispatched behind them would be replaced by two or three more. And those that he'd stunned and dodged, well they would figure out exactly where their quarry was in a moment. The smallfolk ran forward. The knight used his blade to quickly cut into the ground right in front of Ohma and swing dirt into his eyes. It stung and he shut them. Dirty fucking trick.

His ears perked and swiveled, though, catching the clang of his manifested blade against the knight's sword. Or at least he hoped that was what it was. That gave him enough time to wipe the grit from eyes and open them to see a watery figure before him. The manifested blade was holding him off, but the knight was moving fast. Ohma swung Seigfried's rapier in a wide arc in front of him. The blade was sharp, possibly magical, and managed to lob the knight's arm off. It fell to the ground with a disinterested thud, and the knight turned back to him. Ohma had known something wasn't right, but this made it all the more real.

Ohma's eyes were clear enough that he could see the blade coming at him. He sidestepped, but the sharp edge caught him in the arm, piercing through the enchantment, and slicing his skin. It took a few moments for it to bleed and a few more moments for it hurt. That blade was insanely sharp. Ohma mentally nudged the manifested blade to play offensive, not caring if got chipped away by the knight's quick prowess, he needed attention off of him. The knight figured that out, though, and ignored the blade, allowing it to work away at his armor. It did deflect the magical weapon, though, when it came too close to being fatal. This only gave Ohma a few moments to think through a plan.

Fortunately, a far larger distraction came in the wake of a blur of light and a faint voice erupting before him. It looked as if the darkness was dispelled around it, and the group that Ohma was trying to catch up to was responsible for it. It was enough for the knight to take pause. And that was enough for Ohma to leap at him, rapier forward. The manifested blade took to the knight's neck, and Ohma took the knight's chest. The tandem attack worked and the creature collapsed.

The way was clear before them to the soldiers. Ohma quickly dispelled the blade, his brain practically threatening to bleed out of his ears. He sheathed his blade and ran forward, though slid another bolt into his hand crossbow in case things were not what they seemed. His legs felt like jelly, and his arm and side ached something nasty. But he was alive and safe—for now, at least.
 
It seemed survival was in their grasps now. Her attempts at clearing the haze proved capable of removing some of it from a small area but only for a short time, before the endless dark crept in once more. She had since returned to taking out their assailants with a flurry of well placed arrows. She had to work in tight spaces, being in the center of the huddle. Each arrow flew through the huddles of survivors, with shields and sword poised for combat.

They were almost at the edge. It was a clear sprint to freedom, as the haze ended so abruptly. Whatever was causing this had set a specific zone around the area. It all was centered at the war tent. They were after the leaders at the summit. It was painfully obvious looking at the signs laid before them. The rest of the group was beginning to break, as the forerunners retreated out of enemy lines. Nyxia however stayed with the others, holding off the soldiers as the others ran. Maybe it was a change in heart, maybe it was to get information, maybe it was simply a wish to redo that day she should have been killed. She was stronger than she was then thanks to them. Now she needed to prove it. She was now more free to move around, her impressive displays of acrobatics has become a staple in the arena in her home land, having passed it on to those she trained. She leaped from enemy to the next, with each kick, flip, and punch, another arrow found it's home in the ghastly figures.

Everyone had almost escaped. Nyxia in the mean time was surrounded by the knights in these final moments of battle. Many had fallen trying to make it to their line, let outside the festival grounds. She was not about to be one of them.

She clenched her fist tightly, as the mist began to swirl around her, shrouding her in darkness. She moved so fluidly through the air that it seemed nothing could stop her. She pulled her bow string back, and knocked down another, giving her a path out. The shadows giving her strength, she pushed outward, sprinting towards freedom.

As she exited the field of haze, she turned back, pulling back her bow string for one final strike, siphoning the haze she had shrouding her into a single magic bolt. It glowed a deep purple. As she released the string, it soared through the air, piercing several knights as they dispersed into the mist. They were safe now.

As the stragglers exited the battle field, Nyxia approached Rue, seeking to hear it her experiences on the recent event.

"How ironic that I'd be fighting alongside the Alkrisian Army, let alone an Officer of your caliber. I never thought I'd ever return, and yet here I am, standing by your Phalanx."

 
Elara was in her element. As the living fell and died around her, a wave of her staff and a flow of magic ensured that they would rise up to fight once more, keeping the allied line stable. And even better, the superior equipment these knights and guards were wearing rendered them far more useful as undead than the civilians she had been raising before, ensuring that they could both take and inflict more damage against these shadowy knights.

As she had before, she used her undead as meatshields in place of the living, taking fatal blows for her allies and continuing to fight until the magic that sustained them ran out. There was no time to worry if the dead's comrades would take offense to her use of their men. They were dead anyways. Their soul was gone, so what harm was there in using what meat they had left to actually accomplish something?

Elara fought with her own two hands as well. The earth beneath the wraiths began to decay, necrotic energies writhing up from the ground to root and slow the shadowy knights down.

"Press the assault." She hissed from behind her mask. "We've almost reached the city center."
 
They had made it to the final stretch. With the thanks of the Verdigrisian knights, they had made impeccable gains in territory in a short time. While there were losses, the battle no longer seemed like a one-sided slaughter and more like a real fight. To the their luck, small reinforcements joined up with Captain Gartensia and Rue's makeshift forces. In the thick of battle, even she found herself ignoring the dark skin of the elven reinforcements, merely grateful for bodies to replace those of the fallen. If there were Complisians, necromancers, servants of hell, so be it, as long as they were fighting on the same side against the creatures so hell-bent on dismantling the festival.

With the new men, the Verdigrisan knight commanded her counterattack, leaving the task of a coordinated defense to the Alkrisian commanding officer. With only a hundred feet of fighting to go, with renewed vigor, the battle-weary soldiers made their final push with Rue's small Alkrisian force leading the spearhead.

In the end, she'd lost another third of her force since ordering her retreat. Making it out to the clearing, she immediately moved to form up the group's uninjured at their rear to protect their flank. Using the untouched space as a makeshift camp, Tiwht began to set up a triage, treating the injured, beginning with Aewill. One of the guards had been carrying a banner the entire time. While it was Mecrundyrian, Rue had it affixed to the highest point in the area to show their lasting resistance and as a beacon for the others to see and rally around. At the same time, she sent a series of messengers to attempt to break through to the camps of the various nations to rally together at her location.

In the course of these duties, she chanced upon a fellow countrywoman, an archer by trade. Surprised to see another Alkrisian fighting alongside the unlikely army, she gave a waving greeting.

"Well met. As it is, you are not fighting alongside just the Alkrisian Army, but the combined forces of all the nations here. What is your name? Even through the chaos of battle, your aid was invaluable to our success. Thank you."
 
Wolfram didn't have the heart to tell Ohma that he wasn't religious at all.

Conflict was inevitable -that was fairly obvious- but he still couldn't help but feel a bit guilty forcing the smallfolk to charge forth into the gauntlet of blackened knights. He couldn't help but be impressed by how well Ohma fell into his role; not so much as bait, but rather becoming the focal point of the knights' attention. By the time the small one had downed the first with his crossbow, he would have already caught up, slamming the heft of his bar mace into the side of one knight's helm. Even if the strike had not crushed the piece of armor, the force of the blow was more than enough to drive the head aside at a horrific angle.

A glint of steel warned him of the sword heading towards his face, forcing Wolfram to nearly throw himself off his feet just to avoid having a bloody trench in place of where his face once was. The knight's attack spent, he pushed himself pass the kill radius and brought the bar mace down onto the wrist of the knight's swordarm, mangling the limb. Slipping past his disarmed assailant, Wolfram sought to catch back up to Ohma's position having caught glimpses of the small one having difficulty up ahead. Light flashed ahead, distracting the knights and ultimately, allowing Ohma and Wolfram their opportunities to exploit them.

Caving another ebon helm in, he eventually caught up to his companion-in-arms who appeared to be worse-for-wear. "A fearsome grave robber, you've proven yourself to be!" He declared, just about nearly snatching Ohma off the ground as he helped the small folk hobble forth towards their supposed salvation.
 
@Jakers @Reanimator Bob @Tyrannosaurus Rekt @CasketCase @Click This

Two parties drift from one another as driven as the slow trudge of continents across oceans. One seeks safety and life, while the other seeks resolution and answers. The rear phalanx, commanded by Rue Selvare and championed by such figures as Nyxia Sarius, Ohma Ohmadon and Wolfram Krosnchmidt, retreats closer to the edge of hell, where black mist dissipates into the grass. Knights press into them like the very atmosphere and are confronted with increasingly greater fervor; the sight of sanctuary spurs them into fits of inhuman ability seen only in those men who have every bit of intention to live.

A pair of distinct figures enters the street to their side; a great steel man and an exotic woman losing her strength. They fight their way for the safety of greater numbers as the man of steel barrels through scores of knights like a great war elephant. Slowly, surely, they inch to the end. With every step a limb is lost, a heart taken, a life given in the name of brotherhood. The ultimate purpose is altruism; general success at any cost. It comes closer. There it is. Life. Life. Life.

The first man takes the step and thinks twice. His mind is too far gone into the eternal plane of war and camaraderie. He turns back to the realm of hell and helps his fellow warriors to reach the same achievement. Soon a wall forms, ushering each and every fighter to the edge of the nightmarish ring. The last man steps past, and at once, they dash backwards, avoiding the final swings of their assailants.

The shadow knights pause at the edge, unable to continue. They stand there, silently, ominously, and give up. All they can do is watch as their prey erupts into cheers and laughter. The retreat, a shred of its former self, rejoices in their victory. In the distance, a great crowd of people still looms; the ones who had escaped the fastest. Even amidst their boisterousness, the crying of women and children can be heard.
​

@ERode @Psyker Landshark
Meanwhile, closer to the center of the diabolic carnival, the troop of Verdigrisian knights and company continue their relatively unimpeded quest for the source of the apocalyptic magic. Vaneil's mighty onslaught paves way for a faster motion forward, albeit only temporarily. As the shadows disperse into shreds, their scraps seed the ground for more to rise. The knights take opportune swings, dashing out of the safety of the tiny witch's unseen protection to take glory for their own before returning to the safety of unknown magic.

Soon they make it past the collapsed and flimsy fences that once surrounded the central section of the carnival. The knights here are sparse and appear content with their place. They linger in place, frozen in time, as if their duty had been complete but their time on this world still was ticking on. Their heads nodded up as the group approached, and soon enough they became reanimated, a new mission spurred within their arcane minds. The witch paused before the scene, eyes falling upon the telltale source.

At the center of everything, the carnival and the inner section itself, a great pillar of darkness rose like a maleficent oak, it branches stretching up and outwards before fading in the air abruptly. Dark mist fell from it and pooled before spreading out across the fields. The tiny witch stamped her staff upon the soft earth and glared.

The knights approached leisurely, and suddenly, in an instant, were torn asunder by a grey arcane energy that emerged from the air between them. A massive creature fluttered in the air like a flash of light, one split second there, and another invisible to the fighters. Whatever it was, it did not like to be seen longer than the merest strip of time a man could perceive. The knights were vanquished all at once, leaving them alone with the grim tree of darkness.

"They'll come back in a moment unless I put my effort into halting a portion of this spell," the tiny witch said. Gartensia rested her sword on her shoulder and her other hand upon her hip.

"What do you need us to do?" she asked, eyes trained upon the tree. The tiny witch slipped a hand into her sleeve and pulled out a small and vibrant ball, barely the size of a grape. She quickly threw it into her mouth before gripping her staff in both hands. In between chews she responded,

"Whatever defenses trigger, you must fend off," she said gravely. "Prepare your men, Captain Whatever." The girl extended her staff towards the tree and stared deeply, muttering unheard words to herself. The tree shuddered, and its surface began to drip off, becoming thinner and thinner.

From the peak of the tree's center, a shadow emerged even longer than the tree itself. A massive sword of shadow, big enough to strike fear into giants, rose from the center and hovered there before attacking without warning or mercy. The disembodied sword swung at the group of knights in a flash, knocking aside those who were fast enough to block, and cleaving the others into two vertical halves.

The defense had triggered. The witch needed time to fully dispel the true spell.
 
Bolstered by her companions, Vaneil, exhausted as she was, fell in line with the others. Even her strongest technique only dissuaded the shadow-knights temporarily, their shredded remains merely pooling together and forming new entities of massacre. Staying close to the safe zone of the young witch, the Black Wolf breathed raggedly, gathering up the vestiges of her strength, recovering as much as she could for when her sword and skill was required once more. Starfall rested heavily on her right shoulder as she followed the rest of the group.

It left a bad taste in her mouth, watching the necromancer at work, but giving another chance for the fallen knights to exact vengeance upon their slayers. Many of her comrades may still be breathing, and her Captain may be doing a good job leading the charge, but at this point, in such a situation, Vaneil had no issue at all with entrusting some of the burden of their duty upon the dark elf's undead thralls.

Soon, the group made it to the central section of the festival, merely a collection of broken down fences, stalls, and dead bodies now. In the epicenter of the devasatation laid the root of the madness, a tree of evil that desecrated the very earth that it erupted from. Vaneil stared into it, and could see death incarnated in the dozens of faces that emerged and sunk into the black void. The malignant arcane structure seemed to suck in all her attention, absorbing her consciousness, when a shockwave and bath of viscera snapped her out of it. In an instant, a dozen knights were torn apart by a beast she couldn't even perceive.

Vaneil turned around, looked for answers, and received nothing, only an instinctive understanding that the witch was now handling it. Overhead, an invisible war was being waged, while, on the ground, a giant-cleaver emerged from the surface of the sin-black tree. It split the earth with a single swing, the ground shaking violently. Vaneil only barely managed to evade its cataclysmic strike, skidding on the soft earth as she drew out Starfall once more. Already, so many knights were slain, but the gargutan weapon had no intention on staying.

Swinging horizontal, it swept the entirety of the central area. Legs unwilling to listen to her commands, it was all she could do to raise up Starfall once more, taking the full brunt of the slash. Like a ball, she was thrown back, flying through the wooden wreckage of the festival. Vaneil skipped off the ground, tumbled thrice, and finally smashed into the corpse of a horse.

Her body a wreck of broken bones and cuts, the Verdigrisan knight could only watch from a distance as the demonic blade rioted, a destructive dance that ravaged the earth. Her mind was clouding from pain, crying for the painless reprieve of sleep, but Vaneil persevered.

She will witness the end of this, no matter what else she had to suffer.

After all, Vaneil would have to share this story with the others who had prematurely left the battlefield, once all of this was over and she had a good meal.
 
Standing before the Major now, it was quite the honor, even for one who lived by no laws but her own. After all, Rue was a fantastic warrior. And when it all came down to it, that was what Nyxia respected the most out of someone. Besides, seeing that these knights were the same that attacked her back then, it would prove invaluable to make acquaintances with someone who had as much political power as Rue did.

"My name. It has been so very long since I have spoken my true name to another elf, dark or light. Nyxia Sarius is my name. Back in our homeland however, you may have known me as the Pit Archer. I'm certain there have been many like me since then, but I happened to be the creator of that particular style."

She looked back at the battlefield. Many had died, but such is the way of life. Life will always be simple. For one to live, another must die. Nyxia looked back at the crowd of survivors. While the soldiers celebrated, they wept.

"This is not my first time, facing these knights... In fact, that is why I came to this festival. I came to learn more about them. It seems that I did."
 
His shoulders covered in specks of black residue after helping fend off, and his armour dented and damaged, Archie gave a pained sigh as 'safety' had been reached. He hadn't wanted to retreat to safety, but yet his legs had bought him here in his confusion of the whole situation. He just wanted to stop all of this.. to kill all the dark figures for what they'd done... but he knew he was no more than a washed up piece of metal commanding dead bodies in a situation like this. Archie hung his head. What could he do?

One little girl. That was what he'd saved. But if he was paying more attention, that number could be a lot more. Sure, he'd helped the Eastern Lady escape somewhat, but it was her that had saved him in reality. Some 'champion' he was...

"Well... we made it, butterfly. Barely... u-ugh..." Archie mumbled to the Eastern woman, his voice softening to its usual tone, the man gripping his head that was aching profoundly. "...But why there cheering..." He muttered under his breath. "This not over. This far from over... people still dying... sky still feel black... darky figures still roam, an'... and..."

Archie just stopped talking. Moping about wouldn't help anything. All he could do was merely hope there were champions out there who could do what he'd failed to. That beam of light...

"Whoever out there, you can do it." Archie said under his breath with gritted teeth. "No matter odds, you can do it. Give up only when heart stops beating... because thousand voice whisper for your success today." He whispered. He wanted to go out there and help whoever was left fighting, but he couldn't just walk back outside. All he could do was say something like that.

Standing up as properly as he could, Archie scanned the crowd through his visor. He could only see a few other Mecrundyr knights, most of which were injured and recovering. At least 80% of his fellow guard force were missing or dead... killed out of nowhere, and thrown aside. He did see another familiar face, too. There was that white-haired elf by the blacksmith's stall earlier, standing beside a bow-wielding elf with very pretty hair that Archie had never seen before. It was nice that she'd made it alive, but... that lady who'd ran the stall was probably...

Just thinking about it made Archie feel sick. To try and take his mind off it all, Archie did his best to converse with the Eastern Lady.
"Um," He began unsurely. "Thanks for saving Archie. He be scrap metal without your sword at his back." Archie paused in thought. "If you mind, what is name and where you from? Is strange for woman of your skill to be travelling alone."
 
Ohma exhaled as they made it to safety. He couldn't imagine having to fight anyone else. He was tired, injured, and needed time to heal both his ego and his body. He watched as people erupted into cheering over their win. He also watched as the woman that inadvertently saved him, plunged back into the darkness. He wished her luck. Honestly, Ohma was in no condition to help. He'd probably cause more harm than help.

He turned to Wolfram and cocked a lazy grin. "I'm not a grave robber. Just a cut purse. And that purse I cut had weird remnants of someone's grandmother. Which is disgusting." He was happy that the other man didn't think it prudent to question him about their initial confrontation with Seigfried's men. That reminded that Seigfried's mercenaries may not have been alone. He did a visual sweep of those still alive to find that if he had other paid help, they were too busy welcoming their continued life to notice him. Still, didn't mean that he sought to frolick off by himself.

A loud squawk and flutter of wings caused his tail to bristle until he realized it was Pietro. The bird landed on his shoulder and nuzzles into his furry ears. He'd sent the bird away when he'd entered the city. As bad as it sounded, he was afraid that people would try to snatch the avian beauty and use him for food or a new duster. Pietro did enjoy hanging around in the woods, though, and Ohma didn't feel too bad about it. He petted the bird's head, sliding his finger down its back across its tail feathers. "Glad to see you're fine, sweetie." He leaned into his bird and Pietro chirped happily back.
 
Well. This was going pear-shaped quickly. Very quickly. Whatever magical defense could conjure a sword of shadow was something she had no experience with. As was the same with everything else she'd seen today. After all this, Elara vowed that she would definitely have to consult with the witch girl on her knowledge.

But there were still the defenses to contend with. Elara swept her staff across the air again, raising the knights that had just fallen. Well, those she could, anyway. The ones that were utterly bisected were hopeless for her to work with on the spot. With enough time, she could mend them together so that they'd be combat effective, but that was time she didn't have at the moment.

Still, all they had to do was buy time. And her skills were very suitable for that. As before, Elara focused all her efforts on defense, raising undead to take blows in place of the living. At this point, the sheer exertion of raising so many undead was beginning to take its toll on Elara, and her efforts suffered accordingly. Her undead began to slow down in battle, and the number of undead that rose were steadily decreasing, as the process slowed. Panting and visibly sweating under her mask, Elara nonetheless grit her teeth and continued to raise and command her undead.
 
It seemed that the shadowed warriors would not pursue them further. Allowing herself to relax just a bit, she listened to the words of the Alkrisian ranger standing before her. She had been quite capable and had proven herself well in the retreat of the guards, and the respect that she had for Rue was mutual. The tired Alkrisian officer was thankful for her aid.

"Indeed? Well met then, Nyxia Sarius. I'm no archer by trade, but among the soldiers, many have spoken of such techniques."

Rue paused, looking back at the chaos and smoldering remains of the city that they had fled from. The situation back there was still grim; from the screams sounds of weapons clashing in the far distance, it was evident that the fight for the city was not yet over. But for their small force, their condition and size did not lend itself being of much use if they threw themselves back into the fray. She looked at Nyxia with mild surprise at her last words.

"You have encountered those fiends before?"
 
The titanic sword was frighteningly swift, cutting through the air like a diving dragon. The air rumbled with each swing, shaking eardrums even as it missed the lucky few who were nimble enough to roll out of the way. Trenches were cut into the earth, creating a precarious situation where one had to be careful not to trip into one and have their head summarily sliced clean away by the follow-up of the sword. With its size and arcane nature, it seemed impossible to take it down, much less slow its assault. All that was left to the gathered warriors was to dodge and, in the case of Gartensia, to deflect the blows when they strayed too close to the witch. Despite her ability to do so, Gartensia was nevertheless pushed to her limits in attempting to block the massive blade. Her heels slid in the earth and her arms rattled as the weapons clanged together. With every block, her teeth grit harder and harder, threatening to shatter upon themselves. No matter the times, her strength persisted, ignorant of the exhaustion her body was truly feeling.

The witch continued her chant as the tree of shadow began to twist and mangle in upon itself. The distraught faces that sprouted from it surfaced at an ever faster pace, releasing dismal moans into the battlefield. Soon the mist that clung to the ground began to seep inwards into the tree. The witch's brow furled into a glare as her eyes closed, and she seemed to be struggling with whatever spell she was weaving. Stars of darkness exploded around her, summarily intercepted by that unseen familiar of hers in flashes of grey light.

The sword stopped short of cleaving a knight's face in twain, though the blast of air behind it lurched his head back a few inches. The festival grounds erupted in a loud, booming groan, and the earth trembled even beyond the reach of the shadows at the edge of the site. The tiny witch lifted her staff on high and an arcane rune spread across the sky, dropping a wall of light around the festival's borders. In a flash, the rune above spun into itself, bringing with it the wall of light to collapse upon the sword and shadow tree.

A battle of light and dark erupted within the tiny cylinder of magic, pulses of blackness pushing the arcane fabric outwards like a beast trying to escape a prison of thin steel. Eventually the battle finished, and darkness lost. The wall collapsed into a thin needle of light before dissipating into a cloud of bright mist.

The grounds were left as shadow-free as when it had first begun.

The tiny witch sighed and lowered her head. Gartensia fell upon her knees, sword stuck into the ground. Her arms were shaking uncontrollably and her forehead dripped with sweat. The knights around them were a mix of dumbstruck and satisfied, some of them only just then understanding what sort of massacre had just transpired. A few of them found their way to the Captain's side and helped her up. Others offered a helping hand to Vaneil, unsure of her condition. Neron put a hand upon Elara's shoulder, seeming as though he had never even fought.

"R-Regroup outside..." Gartensia managed to utter, head bowed. The knights accompanying her dragged her from the festival, while the witch remained there for a few more moments, staring at the spot where the tree once stood. Eventually she too turned back and exited. Her face indicated something was on her mind, plain as day.

"No doubt this will change things considerably," Neron said to Elara, "Verdigris will have their war with Baelwill, and I am sure many of us will be roused to follow suit."

-------------------------------------------​

At the outskirts, the Eastern woman took the moment of respite to plop down and re-light her pipe, eyes dull with exhaustion. She took a long drag before speaking to Archie from below.

"Name's Kotone," she said, "I came here seeking... big game." She made a sort of gesture indicating she wasn't being upfront with her description of 'big game', but it seemed clear she wasn't about to elaborate either. "And to be frank, I would have been toast without you to charge me through that hellhole too. I'm a duelist, not a warrior. I didn't adopt a fighting style to take on multiple people... at least, not for very long. You surprised me though. What sort of suit is this that you're wearing? Living metal of some sort? I've never seen anything like it."

A bright light burst in the sky, followed by a massive arcane circle that stretched across the festival. Just as soon as it had appeared, the wall of light that formed dove inwards to the center, and the magic was gone. Kotone exhaled a puff of smoke as she watched, not quite surprised by the sudden grandiose display.

"Someone solved it, it seems," she said out loud to those gathered. She stood up on her feet and brushed off the grass and dirt that clung to her behind. "I don't wanna know the damage report." As if it were a signal flare, those that had fled further away began to return to the outskirts of the festival -guards and civilians alike. They curiously approached, aware of the now-gone black mist that had once served as the breeding grounds of death knights.

The massacre had subsided, but the greatest sense grief had yet to come.
 
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