Sir Amel
@Holmishire.

Arms crossed and brow furrowed, Sir Amel was a portrait of indecision. As Sir Toleus passed them by, his posture had tensed, ready to follow—but a wary look at the lord he would be serving forced him to hesitate. The sadness of a father, abandoned in his time of need, tempered by the anger of a king too arrogant to understand why.

"I was not aware of these troubles to the North," the knight muttered. As his gaze fell upon Captain Holdan, resolve came with it. "Loathe as I am to abandon Sir Toleus, the farmers' troubles seem more dire; we should join with Captain Holdan. More lives are at risk, and his men will prove crucial in securing the city."
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Arwen & Masawa

Made them all go away? Arwen's gears ground in her head as she attempted to process the information and the most logical answer before it hit her. Right, illusions. Trickery. Did she create a horde of goblins to scare the townspeople? Well, that was a letdown. Arwen had been ready to decorate those goblins with some arrows, but it seemed as if it had to wait for another day.

"Hey Arwen Masawa said in a disgruntled voice as the girl cast a glance at the jaguar that was actively attempting to avoid Lienne's hands. "Tell this creature that I'm not a cat!

"Well technically. . . You are a cat, just a bigger one," Arwen replied with a smile before following Torgrunn and the rest.

She didn't know who they were, but that didn't mean Arwen didn't notice that someone was following them. The half-elf had just arrived in the town, so she didn't recognize them to give them a name, but since they didn't seem to hold any malicious intent, she decided to let it go. However, her eyes wandered over to something else.

"Masawa. . . isn't that a--"

"--Dead rat," Masawa finished as both of their eyes locked onto the same small creature that was apparently alive, although half of its body was decomposed.

Arwen wanted to take a closer look, but the small rodent skittered into an alleyway before she had a chance. Though the appearance of "skele-kitty" was plenty to confirm that it had indeed been an undead rat. Torgun was right about one thing, with undead rats and skeletal cats wandering around, the town was not short of being a freakshow.

"A kidnapped lady?" Arwen echoed as she gave it a bit of thought. Well, it wasn't precisely the horde of goblin that she wanted to take out, but nevertheless, it was an adventure. Additionally, it didn't seem as if the others had anything against her joining, well, except the one with the quarterstaff that kept walking away from her and Masawa. Speaking of which, if she was to join them, then there was no better time than now to introduce herself!

"Oh, I'm Arwen by the way," she said to the entire group with a smile. "This is my friend Masawa. He may look scary, but he's very kind," Arwen introduced them both and petted Masawa's head as if to demonstrate how tame he was.
 
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Yazmina Boelner


Alive || Inside Lord Bornar's Keep || With: Everyone



The fighter looked from Wank to Jehan to Sir Amel, and her face screwed in a grimace as she weighed the options before them. She couldn't deny that the knight had a very good point, and the desire to not be stuck with Sir Toleus was pushed her to make her decision now and then. Despite his arrogance, the man looked capable enough and she was sure the lord's daughter would be in good hands - as long as he didn't fall to the same curse that had assaulted her and their two previous party members.

"I'm afraid I agree with Sir Amel here." Yazmina's expression softened and she nodded in direction of Wank. "He's right, you know. Healing potions only work if you're in need of healing. Keep it for later. And nice to meet you, Arwen. I think we have someone who's a little afraid of beasts with fur..." Her last comment was made louder, enough for Deidre to hear it from her distance. The woman had kept her distance for some time now, and the sneezing had began once Arwen and Masawa had joined them.

"I don't like the idea, but perhaps we should separate? If the promise of reward for finding the lord's daughter is too interesting to pass up for some of you, I won't stop you." Yazmina looked at her companions, strangers she'd be protecting and fighting alongside with, and waited to see if they'd make a decision or if someone would ever mention anything they'd discovered about whatever was going on in cursed Varden.



 
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Deidre Dydi

"I'm not afraid," Deidre countered, sniffling. "Only very allergic. If the stupid cat goes for snuggle, I'll be sure to crack it upside the head before I go down."

Deidre thinks for a moment, considering the group's options. On one hand, going to the North had been her original plan before being waylaid the first time, but at this point stubbornness insisted that she not let them stray from their current task regardless. She had confidently stated that she would be going after the Lord's daughter only a few minutes ago; and she wasn't going to undermine her own message by changing that now.

"We can do more as individuals than as part of a large group," Deidre says firmly. "Be damned if I'm not worth five soldiers, but that means poor to nothing in a battle of dozens. We said we'd get the Lord's daughter, and we ought to follow through."

She grins. "And the knight can claim leader and bulk of the reward all he wants, don't mean he's gonna get his way."
 
Deidre took the lead in following Sir Toleus after her confident assertion of intent to disregard the unpleasant man's statement of leadership. Wank, Jehan, and Arwen followed soon after, leaving only three remaining standing before the gates of the keep. "Well," Torgun spoke up as he went to follow them as well, "look at it this way. All those soldiers'll help up north, but it sounds like not many went west. D'you really want to trust the fate a kidnapped girl to the likes of Sir Toleus and Wank? I'm gonna go make sure they don't do anything painfully stupid, and I'm sure I could use the help."

The trip westward was largely uneventful. Uneventful, but long. The winding road down to the bridge across the river was close to empty, and unlike their trip to the keep there was nothing of interest spotted along the way. After they passed through the small section of Varden on the western side of the river, it took Arwen and Masawa only a couple minutes to find a promising trail through the long grass. It was in truth less a trail than a path of destruction that looked like a very localized storm had passed through to tear everything up, but it reeked of magic and was very fresh so they followed its course: a straight line heading directly toward the odd tower in the distance.

After following the trail for about half an hour, something strange quickly became evident to all the magic users in the group. There was a sense of everything being at once stretched out before them and squished into a shorter distance than it should have occupied; all of them but Wank had moments of confusion where the tower seemed to shift from appearing to be only a mile or so away one second to being far in the distance the next. Wank managed to see through whatever trickery was going on to recognize that the tower was indeed very distant, and it did not waver in his vision. It also stayed still in the eyes of those lacking magic, but for them it seemed close and didn't appear to grow nearer until they had been walking for well over an hour after the point the magic users noticed the strange distortion.

They were nearing two hours of travel from the keep when whatever illusion held the land around the tower finally broke, and the tower about a mile distant started to creep ever closer. The tower's appearance changed quite a bit as they passed that threshold. While it had looked plain and clean and new, built of light grey stone to all of them, its true form was much less impressive (except to Jehan, for whom the smudge only seemed to grow a little darker). The tower was dark with age and creeping vines growing over its walls, rising over a hundred feet into the air with only the tattered remnants of the wooden beams of a roof remaining where the illusion had showed fine blue tiles. None of the party could tell just how old it might be at a glance, but Torgun murmured an uncertain guess of at least five centuries.

The land itself also appeared to change: where it had looked much the same as the plain grassland rising slowly uphill as they traveled toward the west side of the valley Varden occupied, the mile or so directly around the tower was eerily flat and the grass was kept very, and its unnaturally vibrant green was offset by little pops of red and yellow and purple thanks to flowers that grew at random and just barely rose above the level of the grass. The furrow in the ground they'd been following continued on through this grass, but it looked like it had happened days ago and had been smoothed out by heavy rains. It was all clearly magical in nature, including the seven-petaled flowers that none of the party could name, but the pristine landscaping was somewhat harder to explain. Arwen spotted the answer to that: small magical constructs, discs about the size of an Orc male's outspread hand, that were clear like glass and hovered over the grass apparently trimming anything that grew too high, plus a handful of them sweeping back and forth over the line of torn up earth to put it back into place.

The beauty of the scene could not hold their attention for long, however, as a cry of pain rang out soon after they stepped onto the pristine grass. Sir Toleus mounted his horse immediately and charged toward the sound, and Torgun cursed under his breath and beckoned everyone to follow as he got to running. It took them all (minus near-sighted Jehan) no time at all to make out a battle underway near the base of the tower. Where before it had seemed to take them ages to cross minimal distance, the apparent mile to the tower was reduced to almost nothing, with each step sending the tower lurching closer at a nauseating rate. In under a minute Sir Toleus was charging into the fight with his sword drawn, giving out a battle cry that carried through the air without any distortion or disruption from the fact that to the others he appeared to be leaping forward dozens of feet with each step of his horse: "Die, foul demons!"

And demons they were. There were six small creatures with sickly green skin, about the size of Goblin children but with gnarled limbs and pairs of horns atop their heads and large fangs that made them far more monstrous than any Goblin. Two roughly Human-sized creatures were also present, beings with furry legs that ended in cloven hooves, torsos with more sparse hair that showed red-tinted skin beneath, and goatlike heads with beady red eyes and curling horns. The final demon of the lot was a hulking thing, at least eight feet tall, and it looked like a vastly muscular grey orc with a mouth full of jagged teeth and two stumpy horns protruding from its head; it was the only one carrying a proper weapon, a sword made of some dark metal that it wielded in one hand but which would be a rather oversized greatsword for a Human, and one spot near the center of the blade was smeared red with fresh blood.

The trio of adventurers from Alfhem were trying without much success to fight the pack of demons themselves. They had been nowhere in sight during the long trek to the tower, but the fight appeared to have started not long ago. Thal, the male Elf, had been fighting the largest of the demons and had also been the one whose scream alerted the group to the danger; he was laying on the ground beside a shattered sword with a large wound in his side, though with his hands on it and all the blood it was hard to tell how badly he was hurt. Tres and Whalebones were engaged with the goatlike demons, the former wielding two swords and the latter a large club. The demons seemed to be holding their own without much struggle, blocking each attack with hand motions that created little barriers of shimmering blue light. The pack of smaller demons were mostly jabbering in some unintelligible language, but they sometimes tossed little balls of fire that seemed to do little more than irritate the fighters.

Sir Toleus charged straight for the largest demon, but his horse was met with a brutal swing of the massive sword right into its chest, sending the knight flying forward over its head. His metal boots flared with brilliant green light for a moment, and his headlong rush to the ground was averted as the magic of his boots spun him around in the air to land on his feet, skidding a few feet as he landed but otherwise none the worse for wear. He charged the large demon again with a wordless roar, shield held ready and sword swinging. His arrival pushed the other demons to fight more actively, and it quickly became apparent they'd been toying with their prey as Tres and Whalebones were put on the defensive by blasts of magic from the goat-headed demons and more intense blasts of fire from the smaller creatures.

"Demons. I fucking hate demons." Torgun got his grumbling out of the way as he picked his pace up into a sprint, charging into the fray with his battleaxe swinging and a battlecry pouring forth in a bellowing roar that seemed far too large for the dwarf as he headed for the goat-headed creature fighting the female Elf. "Eat mithril, you festering cunts!"

With all the yelling and fighting going on, none of the demons seemed to have quite registered the other threats appearing, leaving at least a few seconds to maneuver and strategize as they wished, though those already engaged in combat did not appear to have long left before they would be overwhelmed.
 
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Yazmina Boelner


Alive || West of Varden || With: Everyone



"First an altar for the God of Sin, and now demons? What the fuck." Yazmina gritted her teeth and closed her eyes for a quick moment, taking a deep breath and gathering the inner force she liked to think of as her magic affinity. Like a rope, it went from being loose and wild to forming a straight line in her mind, and with a few whispered words the runes on her shield shimmered a dim light. The fighter felt a slight tiredness once the incantation was done, but it was easily shrugged.

The sight before her wasn't pretty. The six Imps could be easily dealt with, and for a moment Yazmina considered charging at them to get it over with, but their ranged magics was not something she would be skilled against. She opened her mouth to share her intent on attacking the two Satyrs, but by the time Sir Toleus flew off his horse the two demons showed their true colours. Well, fuck. This leaves... Her eyes went to the large demon. From the stories she'd heard, she knew it was a Legion, one of those soldier demons.

While fear slowly creeped up her stomach, something else bloomed in her chest that overruled any other emotion the fighter could've had at that moment: excitement. "I'll take the big boy. Can't fight magic users, but I can sure slash a motherfucker." Yazmina let out a similar battle cry as Torgun had and followed him until they diverted course towards different enemies. With her shield in front of her and her sword drawn and ready, she would try to get behind the Legion demon as to circle him with Sir Toleus. There would be a calculated order to her swings, her powerful arm directing the sword anywhere that looked like a weak spot, yet never hitting at the same spot twice in a row to ensure that she could keep her foe on edge.



 
Sir Amel
@Holmishire.

Torgun's belated consolation had done little to convince the knight, but he had followed nonetheless. And, to the dwarf's credit, he had not been wrong: the current threat would have been too great for Sir Toleus to face alone.

Sir Amel quickly picked up on the satyrs, tracking their shimmering blue lights—a defense he would have no trouble piercing. "I go for the goats," he called out, not wanting to risk any misinterpretation from the less educated among his companions. "Jehan, Deidre, pick a shield and stay behind it until we get close."

As he charged forward, sword and shield at the ready, he forced himself to keep wary—looking to deflect any magical projectiles headed towards him, or towards those who followed in his wake. It was only when he was a yard from the fray that his focus tightened, zeroing in on the satyr. Flanking Whalebones' opponent from the right, he swung the left-handed Lame toward's the demon's stomach while hefting Porce up to protect his front. He trusted that the unique enchantment of his sword would be enough for him to land the first strike.
[/hr]@HerziQuerzi @Greenie
 
“Dem’s some ugly sons of bitches, ain’t they?” Wank called in response to Yazmina, not overly concerned that he himself was - aesthetically - merely the next rung up on the ladder.

He concerned himself, instead, with the matter of target selection. The very, very obvious target of choice had been the largest demon, for the selection was fortuitous in a number of ways; firstly, the larger the foe the grander the glory, and secondly, it posed the ‘risk’ of ‘accidentally’ frying one Sir Toleus. To boot, Sir Toleus appeared to have lovely, lovely footwear - he’d simply have to cook him at the right temperature to preserve the man’s armors while melting the body within to loot if off him once the battle was finished. Alas, Yazmina’s approach towards the foe nipped his particular train of reasoning in the bud; she was a specimen of particularly honed hind-quarters, and thus best left un-roasted.

The other combatants were all rather suitable -- though acceptable was perhaps the more acceptable term -- candidates for friendly fire, although not in the same way as Sir Toleus, and as such, another set of adversaries gained his attentions and ill-intentions: those small preening demon fuck-heads that apparently thought they knew how to ‘do fire’.

They did not know shit!

Choosing to keep his distance, his fingers set to motion in some blinding flurry of hand-signing, before receding towards his heaving, diminutive chest, and pushing back out again. The motion was accompanied by an enthusiastic, lewd chant (“Ya’ll uglier than slug snot! Ya’lls burnt corpses'll smell like cockrot!”) and a roaring ball of flames that seared the air on the path towards the nearest few imps.
 
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After the two hour journey, it was almost a relief to be headed into battle. Or so it would have been if it weren't for their opponents. Once he was close enough to actually see, Jehan could name the demons as easily as he could name what he had eaten for breakfast. Having grown up in Estalla, surrounded by scholars and mages, such knowledge had been one of the many things he had learned. Unfortunately for him, however, he had never actually had to face one of these foul creatures in person.​
Thankfully he didn't have to worry about having to face them alone. Nodding at Amel's words, he took a split second before following after said Sir, pulling both his sword from its scabbard as well as his staff from its holder on his back. Jehan didn't like bulky shields, but even he had to admit that they worked very well against the fireballs being sent their way by the nasty imps. Well, others would have to worry about those creatures, seeing Amel was headed towards the 'goats' as he called the satyrs.​
Up close they were even uglier than having been portrayed in books, and drawings didn't do much justice. It was too bad he wouldn't be able to relay such knowledge to his father, but he supposed that was life. For now, he would try to aid his comrades in taking down these red skinned bastards.​
And so without further delay the elf swung both his sword and staff at the satyr's legs, hoping to stop its mobility.​
 
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Deidre Dydi

"No shield can keep pace with me," Deidre called out arrogantly in response to Amel, booking it towards the biggest, baddest demon. Finally, there was some action. An opportunity to let loose, and let her blood and muscles sing. As for targets, it was always best to start off with a warm up. Something big and lumbering, that she could easily duck and dodge around. The more spritely, projectile hurling demons could wait until she was fully in the groove.

Using her magic to propel herself forward, Deidre races towards the large demon, and as she draws closer, indulges in a piece of showmanship and leaps over Yazmina towards the demon. Ready to imbue her boots with magic to leap again in midair to avoid an incoming attack, and quarterstaff raised to bring down upon the demon's head, imbued with yet more kinetic force.

"Eeeeaaat diiirt!"
 
Arwen & Masawa

"Now this is what I've been looking for!" Arwen chimed to herself as she took the bow off her back and readied an arrow. The group split up to concentrate fire on the multiple enemies in front of her, which was a good idea. Wank was heading towards the smaller flame throwing minions. Jehan and Sir Amel went for the goat looking ones, while Yazmina, Sir Toleus and Deidre charged for the biggest demon. Arwen grabbed one of her enchanted ice arrows before aiming over to the smaller ones. Wank was the only one without any assistance, and since she was ranged as well, there was no danger of her getting caught in the crossfire.

"Masawa, go and help Jehan and Sir Amel, I'll help Wank out!" Arwen ordered the jaguar.

Masawa gave her a quick nod before stalking over to the biggest demon to assist Jehan and Sir Amel taking the goat demons down.
 
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Despite having the element of surprise on their side, the adventurers found the demons far too skilled to be taken down quickly and easily. As Yazmina and Deidre rushed the soldier demon from behind, it swung its massive sword and Sir Toleus proved unable to stop it. His shield buckled under the blow and he was sent flying back in a stumble that ended with him on his ass in a heap. As the demon raised its weapon to finish him off, Yazmina came from behind with a flurry of precise strikes that opened wounds in the creature's legs and back that oozed a tar-like black substance. As it turned to face the new threat, it ducked its head out of the way of Deidre's staff to take the blow on its shoulder, which took no visible physical damage from the strike. It swiped its empty hand at the airborne woman, but her boots allowed her to leap out of the way well before it would have reached her. Sir Toleus cursed and started pushing himself up from the ground, but for the moment that left Yazmina and Deidre facing the huge demon on their own as it lifted its sword for a swing at Yazmina.

Amel and Jehan fared much better against their satyr opponent. While Whalebones continued to be pushed back and was bleeding in quite a few places from his enemy's magic slamming into him, he did manage to keep its attention long enough for the other adventurers to arrive. Amel's shield deflected a couple stray blasts from the imps, and as he swung his blade at the satyr it quickly raised a barrier to stop it. Lame slashed through it like paper, and continued on through to sever the satyr's arm just below the elbow. It let out a bleating scream of pain, but it was quickly silenced: Jehan's attack to the legs was enough to sweep one foot out from under the demon and make it fall on its back, and Amel followed up with a quick downward thrust to the chest that silenced its screams for good. Whalebones gave the two of them a grateful nod, then took off toward the soldier demon with his club winding back for a full swing.

The other satyr proved a more wily foe, pushing Tres back with a series of quick attacks aimed at her legs that hampered her mobility greatly. Torgun's attack, with his loud shout giving plenty of warning, was fended off with ease: a barrier of blue glitter formed in the air to stop his axe, another flash of blue for a counterattack slammed into his mithril chainmail and dissipated without any effect, and one hoofed foot slammed into the Dwarf's face to send him reeling back with a bloody nose. Masawa had seen his ordered target taken down before he even got there, but the other satyr was still standing so he changed course and arrived just in time to slam into the demon and send it staggering backward with a shield raised in defense. A long, red gash along its furred stomach showed that Masawa had gotten a clean hit in, but it didn't seem horribly wounded yet. Torgun stalked forward more cautiously, and the Elf woman circled around the opposite way he went in an attempt to flank the satyr, but for the moment the demon held its defensive position while muttering something under its breath.

Though small and far from intimidating, the pack of imps were the only demons to go entirely unscathed by the initial attacks of the adventurers. Wank's massive fireball was easily redirected up and above the demons by the combined efforts of three of the small creatures, and they darted about to avoid Arwen's icy arrows without even letting up their fiery attacks. They were nimble, but their aim was little better than that of the adventurers. All six of them turned to the new threats and send a barrage of fire their way, but Arwen got away with only a couple scorch marks on her armor. Wank dodged out of the way of most of them, but one bolt of fire landed squarely in his chest and almost knocked him off his feet. For a larger and heartier person it probably wouldn't have been more than a painful wound, but for a frail Goblin like Wank it was a serious injury that would stand a reasonable chance of killing him if left untreated. The imps readied another series of fiery attacks, but the time taken to cast their spells left enough of an opening for Wank and Arwen to act.
 
Some part of Wank wondered about what was most painful; the blow to his ego, or the bolt of fire that soared into his chest. On one hand, Wank believed himself to be a thing-of-fire that nothing godly or godless could contest, and so being utterly humiliated by these ugly-scowlfucks was very close to crisis. On the other hand, the scent of singed goblin-skin was unbearable, he might literally die and…

the other part of Wank was very much screaming in agony, “AWWWW SWEET WHIP-BEARER OF THE ORC-LORD BALZAC WHO SKINNED THE FLESH OFF MY FATHER’S POSTERIOR; AH’M HEET, AH’M HEET! T’me, oh! T’me! Guard me with yer bodies! Splash me wit’ da milk of yer cherry-sweet health potions! Ah been kill’t!”

He rattled off words at preternatural pace, not merely because he was verbose -- in his own special way -- but because it helped center him against the immense pain of the flesh. Helped prepare him for the ensuing barrage of the ugly-twats. Gnarled… yet surprisingly dainty fingers clasped together and pulled apart as he gesticulated in wide circular motions, summoning into being a circle of flame that he floated aloft in front of his person.

A net to catch the flames, and -- given a chance -- to turn it against their masters.
 
Sir Amel
@Holmishire.

The satyr dead, Sir Amel took the opportunity to glance around the battlefield.

The other satyr was pushed back to a standstill. An attractive target: as before, his equipment should allow him to end that fight in seconds. Unfortunately, the hoarse screams of a companion made it clear that there would be other priorities. Despite his growing distaste for the goblin, he had no desire to let anyone die under his watch.

Charging past his allies dueling the satyr, the knight held his shield at the ready as he let loose a wordless battle cry. He had no intention of actually cutting down any of the imps as of yet. His goal was merely to draw their fire, so that Wank could fall back.
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Jehan was quite thrilled that his team effort with Amel had come to fruition. As he looked away from the now dead satyr to see how their companions were faring, he could see that the others weren't as lucky in their endeavors. However, there was nothing he felt he could do aside from concentrate on what was before him-​
Well, it seemed as if Amel had other ideas, heading out after the imps. Jehan supposed that was fair, seeing Wank was suffering from the imps fire attacks. It seemed as if the cat rider hadn't had much success there either, so perhaps it was for the better that the knight headed over to aid them. Hopefully Wank remembered he had a potion on his person- the one I stopped him from drinking, for which he should be grateful. It would probably do him good to drink it now...​
But that wasn't the elf's concern, despite the smug thought to himself. He looked to the remaining satyr and quickly noted not only the giant cat but Torgun as well as the elf woman were surrounding it. His dark gaze leapt back to the satyr and a curse escaped him. Was the demon going to cast some sort of spell?​
"Best finish it while we have the advantage!" Following his own advice, Jehan did not wait in attacking the satyr, using his staff in an attempt to knock the satyr down just as he had with the other. His sword he kept close to his side; while he was fairly certain it would have drawn blood, the elf couldn't be sure he wouldn't accidentally hurt his allies.​
 
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Deidre Dydi

Somewhere, Wank was yelling. An entirely mundane affair, Deidre was quickly learning. but still a noticeable one. Without looking, it was impossible to tell if it was celebratory, angry, arrogant, or fearful. Especially when Deidre couldn't even be bothered to try and make out the words.

She was too busy listening to her blood sing.

The earth greedily reclaimed her after her mid-air dodge, clumps of it kicked up as she skidded past the soldier demon. To what would usually be a stop, if Deidre had ever once in her life learned how to stop. Instead she slowed to a manageable speed before her legs kicked back into action, digging into ground to turn her back to the demon, a burst of magic abruptly reversing her momentum.

In the brief moment spend reclosing the distance, Deidre took in the situation. Mind racing with a dozen thoughts and none. Impressions and impulses, converted into action. Into movement. The demon readying another attack. Yazmina's armour. Sir Toleus's armour, and how well that had fared against the demon's attack. How ineffective her attack had been at toppling the demon.

How an arm weighed far less than a body. Winding back her quarterstaff, Deidre leaped at the demon once more, with a new target in mind. The lumbering sword, raised high to crush Yazmina. She may not have been able to topple the demon in a single blow, but merely diverting an attack? That, she felt, was something well within her reach.
 



Yazmina Boelner


Alive || West of Varden || With: Everyone



Counting herself lucky to have gotten a few nice slashes in, Yazmina gritted her teeth at the meagre results of her companions. She knew it wasn't their fault, of course - they were fighting a Soldier demon after all. It still irritated her that they'd barely managed to attack it effectively, especially with the screams of pain that came from Wank. Sparing no time in looking around to see how the others were doing, her eyes fixed on the demon's sword.

Instead of aiming directly for another hit, Yazmina raised Brauhm's Shield to protect herself from the upcoming blow. The fighter registered Deidre's attempt at distracting the monstrous beast, but it was better to be safe than slashed in two gnarly pieces. Her long black braid whipped behind her as she changed her footing and aimed her sword for the beast's descending arm, ready to chop it off as soon as it was within reach.

Despite their dire circumstances, there was a smile on Yazmina's face that could only be described as purely fervent. Even with the shadows that clung to her skin and hair, her teeth showed through her wide grin and she let out a thunderous battle roar. "OI! COME AT ME, YOU UGLY CUNT!" Hopefully this would provide a reasonable opening for Deidre and Sir Toleus to attack the demon while she had its attention. Yazmina sent a silent prayer to her Father, hoping that her Shielding magic, Brauhm's Shield, and her armour would be enough to let her live through this attack.



 
Arwen & Masawa

"Wank!" Arwen called out as the goblin is hit by a firebolt from one of the imps. The stench from Wank was already bad, but she was confident that it became worse when the source got scorched. Her eyes briefly glanced over to Masawa, only to check in on her Jaguar, though he was doing fine with Jehan with one of the satyr's dead. Good, that meant she could get her head in the game.

She drew a deep breath and readied yet another ice arrow, eyes fastened upon the imps that she had earlier missed. Those missed shots could be blamed on her excitement for adventure, but Torvald would be disappointed if he thought she wasn't taking it seriously.

Sir Amel charged the imps with a loud battlecry, and Arwen saw her chance. If they were to be distracted, then there was no better time than now to strike!
 
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Sir Amel's rush toward the imps proved largely ineffective as the small demons focused intently on bringing down the injured Goblin. One bolt of fire rushed toward the knight and left not even a scorch mark on his shield as it resisted the magic entirely, while five more streaked toward Wank. Two of the attacks slammed through his protective mesh of flame, but only enough to send harmless sprays of sparks his way. The other three were quite easily turned back toward their casters; as luck would have it, now they were turning toward the knight rushing their way, and in their distraction three of them were struck by the returned flames and killed immediately. That was enough to send the little demons scattering, but two remained close enough together that Arwen's arrow split the difference between the fleeing forms and hit the ground just in front of them. The ensuing blast of icy magic caught both imps and froze them solidly in place, and from their lack of any struggle it seemed they were dead as well. That left a single imp running away as fast as it could, hands waving in the air as it tried to perform some kind of magic that none of the nearby adventurers recognized.

The remaining satyr's spell casting was almost interrupted by Masawa leaping forward to attack, which was enough to shatter its shield, but it danced back away from the claws and fangs with surprising grace. Unfortunately, it danced right into Jehan's staff, which swept it off its feet onto its back much like the other satyr, and knocked the wind out of it. The magic forming between its hands dissipated entirely, and though the demon scrambled to try to erect further defenses it was not given the time to recover. As Jehan backed out of the way, Tres and Torgun pounced on the downed enemy with a ferocious flurry of blows, and the Elf's two swords and Dwarf's battleaxe hacked the creature into a bloody wreck in just a couple seconds. Tres immediately rushed over to her fallen companion without saying a word, dropping her swords as she knelt beside him to tend his wounds. Torgun, on the other hand, hurried past Jehan with a hearty pat on the back. "Nice work! Let's deal with the big fucker now."

As the soldier demon swung its massive sword in a deadly arc that could have easily cut a person in half, its trajectory was significantly altered by Deidre landing a forceful kick to its arm. The sword came down toward the edge of Yazmina's shield, and though the blade glanced off and buried itself into the dirt it had struck her shield with enough force to send some uncomfortable reverberations up her arm. That did nothing to impede her sword arm though, and she was able to hack into the demon's massive arm just below the elbow, but it was stopped by the bone rather than cleaving all the way through. Just a moment later, before the soldier demon had time to pull back in pain, Whalebones came in from the side and slammed his club into the monster's elbow with enough force to make it bend the other way. The demon roared in pain, letting go of the sword and swinging its injured arm wildly as it took a couple steps back.

Yazmina managed to tug her blade free and avoid the arm, and Deidre was well out of harm's way as she landed. The other combatants were not so lucky: Whalebones was hit with the broken and bleeding but still immense arm and was sent flying, and Sir Toleus had been surprised by the sudden retreat of the demon and ran right into its backside without being able to swing his sword in time. The knight went down and just managed to roll out of the way in time to avoid being stepped on, but his sword shattered under the crushing weight of the demon's foot, which also caused a small magical explosion that didn't bother the demon at all. Though wounded and disarmed, the soldier demon was far from done fighting. Its pained scream turned into a roar of rage as it grabbed Sir Toleus by his ankles with its uninjured arm and started swinging him around in a wide circle like the man was just a toy. The knight flailed and struggled for only a few seconds, then went limp in the monster's grasp. The soldier demon charged for Yazmina once more, this time bringing Sir Toleus' limp but heavily armored body down in a brutal overhead swing as if it intended to drive the adventurer into the dirt like a nail into a board.
 
Lookit these amatours! Kill’t with they own flames! Idjits!

Wank cackled as the lone imp fled, too captured by self-satisfaction to note its magicks, instead focusing on ensuring the pitch, tone and timber of his squawking were suitably ‘impressive’. Pained coughs interrupted his cackling, and he, with some disgust, resigned himself to turning to face the newly positioned Amel, who was - pleasantly enough - at the ready with weapon to guard his goblin-ness.

“Girl-thang!” He spat at the pretty-face, who was decidedly not a girl, “Aaaat attenshun, aaand lay yer handsies upon me with yer healing magicks.” He demanded at the duelist, who was decidedly not a healer.

He surveyed the rest of the battle, still eagerly anticipating the scion’s healing touch, eager for his next victim. What drew his eye however, was a man already thoroughly victimized; Sir Toleus, less a participant of the battle and more… an implement of it, being swung bodily about like a hammer.

Wank laughed from the pits of his dimunitive heart, and no amount of cackling could stop it.

He gathered a single bolt of flames, having been depleted by his prior assaults, and launched it at the soldier demon’s swinging arm. Ostensibly, he was attempting to preserve the life of the lady with the fine buttocks, but if he accidentally scorched Sir Toleus’ soon-to-be-corpse, what of it?
 
  • Haha
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