IK vs PA Multi-Battle - City Hall

[Enigmatic Immortal]

This Battle will open at Midnight tonight!

I will be announcing who is participating in this before hand if I get both sides match ups in time. If by that time none is given I will assign the fighter. Remember that whoever posts first sets the parameters for the fight as well as the setting!

[Enigmatic Immortal]

This battle will start as Zach Blaze vs Bellator Magus!

[Zack Blaze]

“How do I wind up in these situations?” Zack thought out loud to himself. The company that Zack had been working for recently, Misery Business, had been contacted by Phoenix Ascendant to aide them in their struggle against the Ixian Knights. Since Zack happened to be the only agent of Misery Business in the immediate area, the people on high sent the order to the street fighter to assist. Considering the true intentions of Misery Business alone, the people of Phoenix Ascendant must have enjoyed the disarray that was the Corone civil war.

Then Zack had actually met some members of the group, and easily understood why they would oppose the Ixian Knights. Apparently, with the civil war raging, more and more people sought out alcohol to drown their sorrows in. Phoenix Ascendant was a group of alcoholics and a few bartenders, from what Zack deduced from the few members he met. Bad times all around meant booming business for the company. By preventing Sei Orlouge from attaining his goals, Phoenix Ascendant would continue to make an obscene amount of money, no matter how much they charged for their drinks.

At least, this is what Zack had concluded from meeting the people. The teen had no stake either way in this war, but he was hired to do a job to the best of his abilities, and he would do so. He was assigned to wait in the city hall of Radasanth, the people of Phoenix Ascendant thinking that it would be a primary target. They had way too much faith in Zack, who was to hurry and alert the rest of his ‘team’ should any danger come through the doors.

He was located behind a large redwood desk. Normally, there would be five or so city council members here to talk about bills, new business, old business, and everything else before adjourning and collecting pretty handsome pay. Zack sat in the middle chair, spinning around in it as he listened intently for the doors to open. This seat was normally reserved for the head of the council, though with the way this new war was going, it looked like there would soon be new council members altogether.

As Zack spun around in the cushy leather seat, he tossed up and caught an invisible ball. As a mime enthusiast, Zack had grown more and more attached to the idea of using his imagination to entertain himself. He began throwing the ball against the wall behind him, spinning his chair and attempting to catch it afterwards. It was a fun game, though the constant spinning was starting to affect the young man’s equilibrium.

When he finally stopped his game, and by association his chair, the whole room decided it wished to continue spinning. Zack wobbled his head back and forth as he tried to focus on the line of fold up chairs where the common people sat to speak their grievances. Zack placed both of his hands upon the desk, his right hand gripping the length of a gavel. The room began to slow its spinning pace as Zack lifted the gavel, focusing solely on it as an attempt to curb his dizziness. A slight smile crossed his face as he banged the small hammer onto the desk.

“Order in the court! In the case of His Lordship Zack Blaze versus The Spinning Room, the court finds the defendant GUILTY!” There was another hit of the gavel against the wood, “The room is hereby ordered to stop its twirling this instance, or be forced to five more minutes of making Zack Blaze nauseous!”

[Bellator Magus]

Footsteps clacked against the tile floors with a quiet resounding noise that calmed the young mage-to-be. Even still, he rubbed his temples, trying to calm the irritability that seemed to stay with him once he had left the Citadel. Bell, up until recently, had been sifting back into normal society casually, trying to integrate himself into the world and possibly get himself a life of comfort. But a week ago, a courier had contacted him, telling him he'd had a letter officially sent from Jya herself.

It had told him that one of her old friends had contacted her, asking if there was anyone to help him in his war to take over Corone. A shiver of fear went through Bell's spine when he saw that the Jya was not only aware of his presence in particular, but knew all about his past and why he'd been deported to Fallien. But she didn't want to reprimand him, but instead just asked him to help with the mission, as it seemed that he would play a role of some importance.

The teenager still hadn't wanted to go, even with the thought of a free pass from his crimes and the potential for greatness staring him down, but he didn't complain. Nobody turned down an offer made by the Mother. Even if she wasn't a benevolent ruler, her powers, both known and unknown, would lead most anyone on Fallien to listening to her every whim. Save the Kehlat’s, but none of those lived around these parts that Bell knew of.

So he found himself on a boat, headed for Corone, a mere two days after the letter, fearful and wary of the things to come, but hopeful that he hadn’t been sent to certain death.

Of course, when he arrived, his nerves were bunched up to the point where he was about to explode, so his first place to go to, immediately, was the Citadel; rushing himself into a non-fatal battle to clear the jittering butterflies for the possibly fatal one coming immediately after made great sense to him, and it did work a good deal to clear the fears that had been haunting his mind after the fact.

It didn’t make him any more liable to liking the plan, but he was ready to handle it.

As he was leaving the Citadel though, the thought suddenly ran through his head, that while he knew where the battle he was needed in would be – right here in Radasanth – it didn’t get him any closer to finding anything. The city was massive, after all, and for all he knew, he might even be best in the outskirts of the city.

Thankfully, after about a half hour of aimlessly walking the length of the city, he got a telepathic message from the same person who had compelled the Jya to contact him: a Mystic by the name of Sei Orlouge. He seemed to be speaking to all of the Ixian Knights and their accomplices at large, however, just generally listing what he was doing, which, for the present moment, was evacuating the majority of the common citizens into City Hall to keep them safe from the harm of most of the battle.

A Bell went off, pun intended, towards City Hall in a flash. If anyone knew what or where he should be best placed to aid the war effort, it would be the leader himself, wouldn’t it? Grinning at his own genius, he soon arrived at the wide doors, opening them with a large, creaking noise, and stepping inside.

Here, Bell checked to make sure he still had all his arrows, and strung his bow quietly. Bell’s mindset was that eventually the enemy would realize Sei wasn’t with the direct fighting, and would storm City Hall to try and get him to fight to defend the innocents. And if Bell were here to help also save innocent lives, that was an important job, wasn’t it?

But… first he had to find the people. “Where are they…?” he asked himself quietly. He moved down the halls at random, not knowing the least bit about the political center of Corone, having never once visited before. But as luck would have it, he started to hear a voice and, encouraged, ran towards it. It led him to a room labeled “Council Room”.

Certainly looked promising. It would have to be a large room, wouldn’t it? Nice and spacious, with tables and chairs and ways to keep their words muffled. He reasoned the only way he’d heard the noises at all was because of the sheer mass in numbers. Rejuvenated and positive of his success, Bell opened the door wide and saw, well, something unexpected.

The room was almost entirely empty, save for one man, a blonde haired humanoid, hands planted wide upon the desk, shouting to what he seemed assured was a crowd of people and a jury.

“…room is hereby ordered to stop its twirling this instance, or be forced to five more minutes of making Zack Blaze nauseous!”

“What.”

And now the ball was in his court, for Bell could find no other words to describe exactly what in the fuck was going on.

[Poison]

((just a note guys, the match ups thread says this takes place in a village, not Radasanth))

Poison slipped silently into the City Hall. She wasn't sure who or what she would find in here, but she was sure the odds would be much more in her favor than if she'd stayed in the Church. She walked slowly down the halls, listening for any tell tale sounds of other people in here. As she passed one room, she saw two young looking men inside. She paused and peeked in at the door, waiting to see what would happen next between them.

[Zack Blaze]

Zack looked at the man who entered the room at the end of his make-believe time. From what the dizzy street fighter could gather from the arrows that poked out from behind the man, he was an archer. He couldn’t have been much older than Zack himself, and just as feminine looking. In fact, if not for the small gruff covering his face, the warrior could have easily been mistaken for a girl. Zack grinned a bit as he thought about this, as well as the pale skin that seemed to defy logic on this boy.

“How embarrassing,” Zack said, a small flush of red growing in his cheeks. He stood up, his upper half wobbling forward a little as he did so. He regained his bearings quickly and hopped over the council desk, throwing some non-existent dust off of his shoulders as he did so. This stranger had the advantage of projectiles as opposed to Zack’s hand-to-hand specialty. If this man was with the Ixian Knights, and not Phoenix Ascendant, then Zack would have to get close in order to win any fight. How many archers were good at close-quarters combat, after all?

“My names Zack, Zack Blaze,” Zack proclaimed, holding his hands up in the air as he approached his possible foe. One of his hands slowly lowered down once he got within a few feet of the girly-man. The teen hoped to extend a temporary truce, at least until he could get within striking distance of this unknown person. “I don’t suppose you would believe that we’re on the same side?”

The lie was meant to be a way to gain the trust of this person, or at least know his allegiances. As Zack stood there with his right arm up, and his left pointed at the mystery man, his eyes caught a darkened shade hovering just outside the doorway behind his potential opponent. “Also,” Zack whispered quietly, unsure of whether or not the shadow belonged to a person, or one of the statues that stood guard outside the hallways, “I think you should know that we seem to have a guest.”

Phoenix Ascendant should have sent some form of dossier so Zack would know friend from foe. The thought passed the boy’s mind and was quickly dismissed. Even if they had briefed him with files, or even orientation, he would have blown the whole thing off anyways. It made things so much more interesting, after all.

[Bellator Magus]

“My name’s Zack, Zack Blaze.”

Bell blinked slowly, trying to bring himself back to reality. It was difficult, after seeing that strange whatever-it-was from this Blaze person. What did sink in, however, was that this wasn’t Sei. Eventually though, he decided that the man could be trusted, for now, possibly, and took his hand, watching the blonde human carefully, for any suspicious movements. But he seemed just as wary as Bell was.

“I don’t suppose you would believe that we’re on the same side?”

“Well that depends,” Bell started to say, before Zack suddenly looked past Bell.

Making sure his lips barely moved, the Blonde whispered, “Also, I think you should know that we seem to have a guest.”

Bell gave a slight nod of understanding, before turning around to face this sudden newcomer. What he saw confused him for a brief moment, but he recovered. A petite woman was staring back at him, youngish looking and a tad busty, he noticed, with the expertise of one who knew how to look without looking. But, then he realized… why, if she looked so young, was her hair such a silvery shade? It looked as if she was ancie—

Bell stiffened. It would seem that before him was someone who had the potential for immortality. Generally, from his rare dealings with them, they turned out to be extremely bloodthirsty. But, he still couldn’t be sure, despite the overwhelming evidence, so he went for the obvious approach.

“Hello, madam,” he said, bowing slightly and even tossing her a quick wink. “My name is Bell, and this here is my…” he hesitated, before settling on, “Acquaintance, Zack Blaze. But I cannot say I’ve met you. Might I catch your name?” He let his hand stretch out to this newcomer. He figured perhaps by shaking her hand, or by her refusal to do so, he might get some insight into what exactly it was he was handling.

A risk, considering both of these people could be threats out to kill him. But Bell was confident that he could at least take one of them down with him if worst came to worst.

Besides, he said, to calm himself down, it was probably just a panicked citizen who came here for safety, which would make him quite the knight in shining armor for saving her. Yes…

[Poison]

"You are both surprisingly observant," she said as she straightened and entered the room. "I have only one question for you gentlemen: which of you is working for those idiot Knights?"

She waited patiently for an answer. Each of her titanium sai was held deceptively loose and pointed at the floor. She could sense the blood pumping in their veins, but she had dined the night before. She would not need to drink from either of these young men. Of course, she wouldn't mind meeting either of them under other, more pleasurable, circumstances, but that was not to be.
It had been a while since she was with a man as young as these two appeared to be.

Perhaps once things have settled down... she told herself as she sized each of them up mentally. She doubted either would give her too much trouble. Besides, one of them was hopefully also employed with Phoenix Ascendant, so she would not be the one at a numbers disadvantage.

"Well? Don't keep me waiting too long for an answer, or I'll just decide you're both working for the Ixians."

[Amber Eyes]

((Kyla arrives from Church))

"I can't believe him! Accusing us of ransacking villages! As if the entire reason we are here isn't that we're trying to stop other armies from doing that exact same thing!" Kyla screamed the words at her temporary uncle with all the anger she could muster.

"You need to calm down until we figure out what exactly is going on up ahead" The mute rested his hand gently on her shoulder in an attempt to calm the young girl.

The mystic instead became more agitated as they made their way through the shadows. "And I know Sei apparently likes that Max guy, but he threw a bible at me!" Kyla continued her words as she began to see the light in the new room she approached. "Do you know what I would look like if I got hit in the face with a bible? As if we need another disfigured woman in this war." As the people in the room began to become clear Kyla gestured at the only female, who was in fact, rather pretty, but that didn't fit into Kyla's point. "See...just like that!"

The anger began to drain as she realize that she knew none of the people in the room. It appeared they were in an office of sorts. Two of the inhabitants couldn't be more than sixteen, and the third...Kyla didn't have time to wrap her head around that one yet. She glanced at the doppelganger nervously until she saw both the Gemini blades glowing softly, ready for battle. One look at her own gloved hand letting of a soft yellow gold and a cool calm filled her. Whatever waited, they were ready. "Hi everyone." The mystic smiled, "What exactly are we dealing with here?" Before allowing anyone to answer she smiled at the rooms other inhabitants, "By the way, I'm Kyla, and this is Sei...well...sort of."
Kyla just prayed that Max Dirks was strong enough to take the attack. Why wouldn’t he be? He was, after all, sort of related to the Orlouge family.

[Zack Blaze]

As the first girl entered the room, Zack scratched the back of his head. Not only did this girl dress like she was one of the kids Zack tried to avoid in high school (complete with what seemed to be a ridiculous dye job), but she also underestimated her enemy. The Ixian Knights were strong enough to waltz right up to Radasanth and knock own the front door, as well as intimidate the rangers into not engaging them. They were obviously more than just ‘idiotic’. To be so callous and arrogant when referring to an enemy of any type was a mistake too many warriors had made when engaging Zack, and those same warriors walked away worse for wear.

Zack twirled his finger in a ‘whoop-de-doo’ motion to the girl’s words. Obviously, she thought she could take on both the street fighter and the archer, or she would not have made such a bold statement. It seemed as though this girl, who had not even given them the decency of a name, was too arrogant for her own good. Perhaps after the war, Zack would have to dive deeper into this woman’s personal story, and teach her a lesson about talking down about a strong opponent.

“Does it really matter?” Zack asked, walking over to one of the nearby chairs and sitting down. The teen moved another one of the seats in front of him, proceeding to prop his feet upon it. “I mean, if you’re just going to make assumptions that we’re both playing for the same team, just do it already….that came out wrong.” Zack placed his hands behind his head, pushing himself so only the two back legs of the chair he was sitting on was on the ground.

Just as Zack had begun to think of a better phrasing, he was interrupted by the voice of another girl. The sudden introduction of this ‘Kyla’ caused the teen to push himself a bit too far, the chair (and by proxy, Zack) tumbling into the row of seats behind him. He groaned as he felt his right forearm, a bruise already welling up from the impact of hitting a steel bar. He quickly regained his composure and stood up straight, looking at the new girl with a slight smile upon his face.

Now she dressed more appropriately for a battle. Not any of that all black clothing that seemed to be all the rage for kids that would overdose on dangerous medicinal herbs. However, the introduction of ‘Sei’, when there was clearly nobody beside the girl made Zack question her mental stability. He raised an eyebrow, finally finding somebody in the room that had announced their allegiance.

“I hate to do this to such a cute girl,” Zack said, bowing a little as he looked towards Kyla, “but I have to follow orders. Hope you understand, good soldier and all that.” Zack smiled and kicked one of the chairs up from the ground, grabbing it with both hands and spinning around with it to increase its momentum. After two or so spins, the teen launched the seat towards Kyla Orlouge and her invisible friend.

“The name’s Zack Blaze, and I suggest you remember it, because it’ll be famous one day!”

[Amber Eyes]

A smile curled on Kyla's lips as she watched the young boy gallivanting around as though he had a leg to stand on in this battle. In fact, up until the chair came flying in her direction she had no intention of attacking anyone.

The mystic stared intently as the piece of furniture turned head over heels and back again on its way towards her. From what she could tell it appeared to be a sturdy item and it surprised her a bit that the kid could have thrown it as hard as he had. When it reached the peek of its arch it stopped.

Kyla kept her eyes glued to the chair but spoke to Zack. "Did you really just throw a chair at me? How cute!" With a nod of her head she sent the object flying back towards the lanky teen. "The sad thing is I'd really hoped we could be friends you know? Oh well, you win some you lose some."

She turned to 'Sei' to see his reaction only to realize no one stood beside her. "Dangit! Why does that always happen to me?" Her next words were spoken only in her mind and meant to make their way to her uncle's mind alone. "Well...I only have five uncles again, thank Thanynes, I really didn't want to have to buy an extra gift next holiday. Anyway, I'm with two kids and some creepy girl, and I don't think I'm making any friends here."

Kyla turned back to the room, holding her shadow sword tightly and waiting for anyone else to move. "Just in case you were wondering, this is one your going to lose."

[Abomination]

((Draug and James arrive from the Streets. Bunnying approved by Lionheart.))

The Homunculus and the knight found themselves in the halls of the building, James keeping a safe distance from his savior. That the monster would honor their agreement of banding together to fight a common enemy and therefore rescue him was incredulous to him, but he didn't have time to make new enemies. The knight's vambrace pained him, the weight of the battered shield apparent in every step. Of course, Draug had retracted the long arm he grew in the church to its rightful size, which required ripping off his arm after its original length, while the rest of it twisted and reshaped itself to look like an arm again. While regenerating his body took time and energy, simply manipulating it with a short period of time was a natural occurrence for the Homunculus.

While they approached the council room, which was likely where their foes would be, Draug noticed the Phoenix warrior's fatigue. Having to go up against the leader of the Ixian army was a tall order for anyone here. It proved easy to get lost in the passion of potentially ending the war or throwing the Ixians into disarray with Sei's capture, and perhaps he let the moment get the best of him. Draug wasn't particularly interested in ending the war, his presence was merely a message to Sei that Cassandra Remi was still around, and that he should never forget that. Still, Draug saw potential in the knight. While he could attempt to kill him now and take his belongings, he felt little gain from the Phoenix warrior's body. Maybe if he lived a bit longer, he would have something worth taking. This was the impetus on which he decided to talk.

"Broken armor is heavy," he said, slowly taking off his coat and throwing it aside.

That's all he needed to say. It was an observation, the closest he would come to attempting to help the knight. From slightly below both his armpits, he let two new arms grow out, skin and flesh and bone multiplying rapidly to create fresh limbs. He had dropped one of his swords when he made the climb to the church, but he had plenty more as he pulled three steel longswords out of his hips, two from one side and one from the other, and a steel mace out of his chest with his four arms. While the usual process of pulling weapons out damaged his body but covered his weapons in his infected blood, too much of that drained his stamina, so in times of patience and during the lulls of war he allowed them to slowly pass through his body, which twisted and contorted to make way for the decompressing weapons to harmlessly protrude from his body as if they were in clay. He still wanted them covered in blood, so he slit his wrist with one of the swords, letting the blood leak into all his weapons before the blood clotted. His incredibly thick blood allowed such a thing to happen so soon, but on the other hand a deeper cut caused him to bleed more heavily and faster than others.

He walked ahead of the knight, making it clear that he was to have the first move. They slowed their footsteps as they approached the council room. Draug decided he would make his choice of who to attack when he made it into the room. Raising his weapons up, his four arms gripping tightly on his menagerie of blades and the mace, he charged through the open door, ignoring the rest of the room's occupants when he spotted Kyla Orlouge. To him, Ixian Generals took first priority, so he bared his carnivorous fangs as he ran at the Mystic, intending to pulverize her body with all four weapons coming in at once. One sword went for her left side, one went for a stabbing motion in her heart, another came from above, and the mace went for her right side. Even if the attacks missed, there still existed the threat of the infected blood which only needed contact with her body to start her on the disease.

[Lionheart]

”Giving up already whelp?” Connall spat at the would-be knight, doubled over in exhaustion.

“We’ve been at this for hours,” he replied breaths coming in ragged gasps. “I can barely lift my shield anymore.”

Connall growled and lunged forward. The old fighting master’s boot caught the edge of the drooping steel wall, pinning it violently to the ground, an act which pulled his protégé from his feet behind it.

“What was that for?” he coughed, heaving breaths suddenly drawing in dust as well as air. The flat edge of Connall’s axe cracked painfully on the side of his head in answer.

“Armor’s no good to a dead man,” Connall snapped. “If it ever comes down to the two, then I hope to your damned lion god that you’re smart enough to know which to give up.” Connall’s foot eased off the shield. “Now get up and raise your sword, whelp. “

“We’re not done yet. Not by a long shot …”

James blinked heavily, forcing the city hall’s interior to snap back into focus. “Always the teacher, eh,” he murmured, looking to the ruined hunk of metal hanging limply beside him. Though he was loathe to admit it, the shield was only slowing him down at this point. Was his pride as a knight worth losing his life?

It was not.

James was too tired to bother with properly undoing the restraining straps on the shield’s backside and merely severed them against the edge of his broadsword. Besides, he mused as the remnants of his shield fell to the floor with a clatter, they had likely been the only thing not entirely rubbish after what that shield had gone through. The ache in James’ elbow began to ease almost before the crash of metal on the polished wooden floor faded, and he could even feel some vitality flowing back to his numb hand. If only the throbbing, muddy mess in his head could be cleared just as easily.

James leaned against the corridor wall as the council chamber came into sight and let out a sigh. Two more of his alliance had taken refuge here, one of them the monster that he had initially stationed in the church. Why was it that Elisdrasil had given him the band of miscreant to lead? It was something that he would have words with the Raiaeran about later, but for now it was merely another bothersome detail to put out of mind. There were far more important things to deal with at the moment, like defeating the Ixian Knights.

James took a second to assess the situation as Draug leapt forward. Of the combatants in the room only one was unfamiliar to him, and while the young man looked relatively harmless apart from the crossbow he carried, James had enough experience in these things to know that looks could be deceiving.

“Poison, assist Draug,” he yelled to the assassin, “try to keep this woman alive but be warned that she is one of the Ixian Knights’ generals and a user of magic. If she tries to escape via teleportation, kill her.”

James then turned and pointed from Zack to the other young man in the room, “Street fighter, this one appears to be specialized in range combat. Show him the folly of bringing a bow to a fistfight.”

Having given his commands, James slumped back against the wall with his sword held ready, glad to have a few moments to catch his breath while he directed his alliance’s war efforts. He needed to stop Sei and capturing the mystic's daughter would be a good way of starting that.


James is using his Tactical Commander ability. All members of his side may fight with a coordination and skill above what they normally possess while James is unengaged.

[Poison]

Good grief, how did such a child get involved in a war? She watched as the chair sailed through the air and shook her head. Amateurish...

She shifted her grip on her sai and stepped aside as the strange creature she'd seen when first entering the village came through the door, followed closely by James. A smirk came over her face, remembering Kyla's words about this being a battle they were going to lose. Hearing James' instructions, she nodded once in acknowledgement then began circling around the room. She would wait to see how Kyla handled her attacker before diving in. The last thing she wanted to do was get in the way of her current ally.

"You really shouldn't count your battles as won before you've even fought. This is a war; no one is here to make friends with you, girl."

Her feet made no noise as she moved across the floor. She watched Kyla closely, but also kept an eye on the archer. James' instructions had made it clear what side of the conflict he was on. But while the instructions had been for Blaze to take care of the archer, it would be foolish of her to not watch him

[Amber Eyes]

The young mystic's eyes widened as the number against her grew. When she entered the large meeting room she had never imagined there would be multiple enemies inside, much less that she would end up surrounded by not only the rooms current inhabitants, but also the knight from the church and something else she could not process right now. Her mind raced as she tried to decide with whom the others in the room stood. The silver-haired girl quickly showed her allegiance once she had enough backup, but Kyla still had no idea who the archer was.

When the new stranger began to run at her, weapons ready, the girl ran through her options. She stared at him as he charged; taking in his sickened appearance and all four of the deadly items he carried. When the knight gave his order Kyla knew for the first time where the archer stood in the battle and she reached out and grabbed his arm. "Trust me," She whispered the words as the glass surrounding her began to crack. Blood from the sickened man splattered across the sheet. From the outside it would appear the two stood behind a glass wall which quickly began to burn with blue fire. The glass shattered and spun as it traveled out in all directions, begging to imbed itself in everyone's flesh. Kyla could only hope the man was a sick as he seemed to be, infecting the others would only help her at this point.

When she was sure the spell had protected the young warrior beside her Kyla smiled at the teen, "Do you know how to use that thing? If so, get to it, I'm going to take out the one who seems to be giving the orders around here."

Kyla ran across the room, her eyes intent on the knight who at this point must be near immortal. How had he escaped Sei and Max in the church? She sent out a mental message to her uncle as she ran, "Come, please."

She tightened her left hand, feeling Sophia's mane begging her to take him for her. The mystic brought down her sword, hoping for a clean slash to the knight's front. Sophia's mane followed behind, directed at the man's left side. Her intention was to distract him with her blade while stabbing him in the side of his gut with the claws. "Forgive me." She whispered the words as she always did when she was prepared to take a life.

[Poison]

Poison curled into a tight ball to protect her face and neck as she saw the glass begin to shatter. She could ignore small cuts for a time like any person in a battle, but she did not like it. The fire concerned her more than the glass shards that blasted through the room. Fire did not agree with the vampiress at all. Fortunately, her clothing did not catch as the glass shards passed over her, (though it did make several small cuts in the fabric of her clothing) and she was able to spring up nearly unscathed and continue her job.

"Oh no you don't.." Poison muttered under her breath as she nimbly followed Kyla. She slid between Kyla and the knight, catching both of the Mystic's weapons in the tines of her own.

"There is no forgiveness, Ixian," Poison told her and kicked her hard in the chest to shove her backwards. She pulled her sai free of Kyla's weapons as she kicked.

"Come on, Ixian. Prove to me you're worthy to be called a 'general.' Right now, all I see is a girl with funny looking weapons who thinks she's stronger than she really is."

[Amber Eyes]

Kyla fell against the floor, stunned by what had just happened. The girl had appeared out of nowhere, somehow managed to stop her attack and avoid much of the infected glass shards at the same time. They mystic's mind reeled at the possibility, she must have underestimated this girl. Someone who could do all of that with no damage must be strong indeed. Her chest hurt but not nearly as much as her leg, which had landed on a sharp piece of the glass. Kyla took a moment and dug the shard from her flesh, wincing as she did so. A sharp pain seemed to radiate from the wound and while it seemed mostly harmless something was definitely strange about it. She quickly took off her damaged shirt and tied it around her thigh quickly just in case.

The mystic pulled herself from the ground, staring deep into the woman called Poison's eyes. She grabbed the chain holding the weighted necklace around her throat and pulled. She cupped the cool metal in her hand and tucked it into the pocket of her pants. Sophia's mane began to glow brightly as it sensed the increase in the power of its owner.

"I'm not going to argue with you about what me or these 'silly weapons' can do. I think you'll find that out soon enough." As Kyla spoke the words she silently lifted James' discarded shield into the air. When it was placed directly over the knight and just behind the girl, Kyla stepped closer, her leg screaming in resistance. She let the shield drop as she took a swipe with her sword towards Poison, hoping to push her back just far enough to be crushed along with her friend.

[Zack Blaze]

Naturally, Zack was stunned when Kyla caught the chair in mid-air without ever actually grabbing the piece of furniture. He was even more stunned when said chair came soaring back towards him. Finally, when the chair slammed into his face, sending him stumbling and falling back into the pile of seats he had made moments ago, he had reached maximum stunned levels. The blow was not too hard, though the fall had managed to make the teen cut himself on some metal pieces jutting out here and there, a long gash of crimson peeking out from the torn sleeve of his left arm.

“Aw, but making friends is what a wars all about, right?” Zack said, holding his now throbbing head and standing up, “what with the phrase ‘war buddies’ and all that, aren’t we supposed to laugh about this over a drink later? Maybe laugh about something else I can do even later than that?” Zack raised his eyebrows up and down in a provocative manner. The boy was terrible at trying to be seductive, but at least it was worth a shot.

However, his words fell on deaf ears, as Kyla had become distracted by some sort of four armed freak attacking her from all sides. Zack’s eyes widened as he heard the glass cracked around the body of the two Ixian Knights. “You idiot!” Zack shouted to the thing, raising a chair up in an attempt to block the coming onslaught, “Mystics have a natural def---“

The shattered glass flew outwards, small droplets of blood covering the crystalline fragments. The youth felt a sharp singing pain at his fingertips, pulling one of his hands out from holding the seat to find one of the burning glass shards embedded in his red tinged flesh. Furthermore, it was one of the shards that had managed to get some blood on it. Almost instantly, Zack began coughing, releasing the chair from his hold.

That was odd Zack thought, after recovering from his coughing fit, I didn’t feel sick before….

The youth shrugged it off as some dust in his throat and looked for the archer he had been told to take out. “Great idea,” the boy mumbled under his breath, “try to take out the guy who’s a good distance from me, equipped with a bow, in a fist fight. Who the hell thought you’d be a good leader, dude?”

Zack sighed as he stood up straight now, cracking his knuckles and charging towards ‘Bell’. The Mystic Protection spell had knocked several chairs over from its blast, but Zack found one still remaining upright and folded out. Jumping onto the seat of the furniture, Zack launched himself up in the air for added momentum, hoping to come down on Bell’s face with a devastating airborne jab. His fist ached from the burn it had gained from Kyla's spell, but hopefully taking out the archer would make this fight end faster, and allow Zack to find something to cool his hand down with.

Of course, the sudden rushing of his body towards his fellow youth was suddenly causing Zack Blaze to become strangely nauseous…

[Abomination]

The magical glass did not surprise the Homunculus as all his weapons drove into the shield, "One down." He had no other way of hurting these Mystics besides throwing himself at them until their defenses were depleted. Luckily for him, he had a few extra limbs to cover his body as he dropped to his knees and covered his body with his many arms and weapons. The burning shards embedded themselves into his arms, but many of them went through the edges of his limbs, including his knees and shoulders. The wounds immediately caused a splattering of blood, with many of the glass shards carrying the blood. As the attack passed, he pulled himself up. Many shards were embedded into his arms, a couple in his knee, while the rest had merely ripped apart his shirt as they cut off some of the flesh around his shoulders. His blood stained him in red, covering the weapons in the infected liquid as well. The cuts stopped bleeding relatively quickly, but not after shedding a decent amount of blood. He couldn't withstand too many of those Mystic Protection spells without running out of blood. The bones and muscles in his arms felt fine, although in one of his sword-holding arms he felt a distinct weakness in his grip, but he didn't have time to heal it.

He only knew of Kyla Orlouge from what he was told in the Cult, but there was a way to know more. With her being attacked, he saw opportunity. He would make no attempt to save his allies of course, not in order to pass up a chance for assimilation. He grew another arm out of his back as he charged at Kyla once more, attacking her with the four weapons in a similar manner as before. This time however, he had a hand growing out of his back, whose only purpose was to touch her if she tried to move out of the way.

[Silence Sei]

The mute nearly tore down the doors leading into city hall in an attempt to find his ‘daughter’. Just seconds ago, Kyla had pleaded that the mute come find her, leading Sei to make a deal with Max Dirks in order to find his kin. There was no doubt in his mind that the sound of all the chaos was where his little girl would be. Kyla Orlouge always seemed to be the center of attention, whether good or bad.

As such, the telepath ran into the room just in time to watch Kyla get kicked in the chest, and forced to stumble backwards. He watched her remove the necklace given to her by Sei’s brother, Ciato. For Kyla to be doing such a thing meant that the girl legitimately thought she was in grave danger. The limiter necklace subdued the girl’s power as long as it was on, a form of sadistic training from Kyla’s uncle. To take it off would increase her natural abilities, but also exhaust her after a time. That meant that this had to end, quickly.

Draug came charging at Kyla; Sei smiling as he finally had an opportunity to fight the walking virus. With a wave of his hand, several strands of seaweed shot up from the ground, attempting to take hold of each of Draug’s wrists and hold them in place. The homunculus and his knight friend had managed to evade the stone rain that followed Octopus’ Garden before, but in this small room, there would be hardly any room to maneuver past speeding stones.

“Why not come after the leader,” Sei questioned not only Draug, but every other Phoenix Ascendant in the room. The mute’s body wavered a bit, forcing him to lean on the door frame of the council room entrance. He had hoped to goad not only the knight and Draug, but also the girl seemingly defending the sturdy leader of the group. It was no wonder he had been able to take so many blows from powerful people; the knight appeared to be the commander of this small task force.

Sei waved his hands, a small ‘shout’ coming from his mind, while his body began to cough once more. “Come on, then! I’m right here” Sei had made sure to cut off his communications with Kyla and Bell, knowing that Draug’s disease would effect them in an unforeseen way if he had kept his mental connection to them. Then there was the fact that Victor Callahan may or may not be joining them, a contingency which Sei had managed to prepare for before coming to rescue his family.

[Bellator Magus]

"You are both surprisingly observant," she murmured, straightening up. She glanced around casually and let her weapons fall to the side before saying, "I have only one question for you gentlemen: which of you is working for those idiot Knights?" Bell raised an eyebrow vaguely. She was quite the arrogant character, wasn't she?

He wanted to go after her right then, but two things stopped him: first off, she hadn't actually said that she was with the Phoenix Ascendants. She could just be at odds with the Ixian Knights for some disagreement or other. The other thing that stopped him, obviously, was Zack Blaze, who never did state his allegiances.

"Well? Don't keep me waiting too long for an answer, or I'll just decide you're both working for the Ixians." Bell snorted softly, but still chose not to answer. Zack took the hint, and spoke up instead, but instead of saying what HIS allegiances were, he merely dodged the question haphazardly.

"Does it really matter?" he slipped over to a couple chairs a few yards away and got himself comfortable by stretching out across two of them pushed against each other. "I mean, if you're just going to make assumptions that we're both playing for the wrong team, just do it already."

Bell gave him a quick look. Perhaps this man wasn't nearly as smart as he'd assumed.

"...that came out wrong." So at least Zack knew he'd fucked up, there. But then out of nowhere yet another young woman appeared, talking about disfugrements and lack of good appearances, and pointed straight at the immortal as 'Exhibit A', so to speak.

It took heavy concentration on his part not to bust a gut, but somehow he managed. But then he was hit with yet another shocker. "By the way, I'm Kyla, and this is Sei," she gestured vaguely to her side, and added, "... well... sort of."

"I hate to do this to such a cute girl." Bell took a couple steps back as Zack began to talk. He didn't like where all this seemed to be going. It would appear that his only ally in this war effort was a mentally unstable child and Zack, who, well... he seemed amusing.

But then it turned out even he was against The Knights.

"...but I have to follow orders. Hope you understand, good soldier and all that." He picked up his chair, started to spin around with it several times, gaining momentum, as Bell noticed, and then-- wait, he is going to throw it at her?

He did.

"The name's Zack Blaze, and I suggest you remember it, because it'll be famous one day!" Bell snorted slightly, pulling out his bow. He'd started to make a move for the girl, but Zack seemed a tad too eccentric for Bell to really give him credit that the chair would even go near the girl, Kyla.

To Bell's quick and shocking surprise, not only did it head on a direct crash course for them, but it stopped in midair, halfway through. The girl spoke up once again, almost giggling to herself at how clever she thought she was.

"Did you really just throw a chair at me? How cute!" Bell quietly pulled out a single arrow, and checked the edge of it to make sure. He had blunt tips and sharp tips, and for this, he surely needed a sharp one. He didn't intend on merely bludgeoning someone who could kill little girls with ease. He did notice though,as he did that, to his relief, that the girl seemed to realize that Sei wasn't there.

Plus one point for her sanity.

He broke off the edge of the arrow as quietly as he could, watching as some unnatural creature appeared, followed by yet another person, who appeared to be completely in charge. Bell started sliding forward, though, still ignoring the proceedings to a large degree. It appeared to him that Kyla could handle herself quite well for the immediate time period,, which gave Bell a good distraction to run up and stab--

"...one appears to be specialized in ranged combat. Show him the folly of bringing a bow to a fistfight."

Bell grinned toothily. Aw, well. But, before he could really do anything, he was yanked to the side by Kyla, who quickly whispered in his ear, "Trust me." Bell started to say something, but before the words even formed in his mind, a wall of glass seemed to form and crack out in all directions.

"Do you know how to used that thing? If so, get to it, I'm going to take out the one who seems to be giving the orders around here." She left, just like that, racing out towards the general.

As this went on, Zack tried to get close to him, stumbling and mumbling and generally looking suddenly extremely sickly. Worried about whether this was a trap or legitimately an illness, Bell simply waited until the man got closer.

The human then lashed out as brutally as he could, kicking outwards towards his head as Zack fell, to try and force him onto his side. Bell leapt closer and stabbed out with his broked off arrowhead, stabbing three times as fast as he could. He couldn't tell you where he'd stabbed, except the vague chest area, or even if they made contact, because he was trying to work so fast, he just couldn't wait to see if blood began to spurt.

And just as he did, it seemed that this was going to be the battle of the war, because then Sei himself busted in there, and, as it looked like to him, was throwing out his hands and trying to look thuggin' towards the people of the Phoenix Ascendants, but yet didn't say anything. And yes, he's a mute and all, but he said quite a bit with his mind generally. Perhaps he was too furious for words though, Bell decided.

Oh, well. He took two steps back and waited for Zack to get up, or not. He seemed pretty bad even before he attempted to attack him...


OOC: Sorry about that, guys. Went into a vague sort of slump for a couple days. But I think that hopefully catches me back up.

[Lionheart]

Seeing the shield wall of glass forming around Kyla made James understand exactly what had happened before to him in the church and made him wish that he had kept his shield that much longer. As it was, he barely got his injured arm up in time to shield his face from the magical shield’s biting counterattack. His body was protected from the glass shards by his armor, though some of the soft spots at his joints were looking rather ragged, but while his vambrace provided cover to his the vital portions of his head and neck, the glass still stung a few hits on the back of his hand and at the top of his head. Fortunately, none of the areas that the glass struck were vital enough to make them flesh wounds, but he was already running ragged after his encounter with the Ixian leader and his ambusher in the church and every pain piled just a little more on top of what he could withstand. At least the fire on the glass had been considerate enough to cauterize them so that he only lost a little blood.

It was the small mercies in war that one most looked forward to.

”How am I supposed to fight an enemy that can’t be harmed?” His mind shifted gears, workied frantically towards a solution that would keep he and his team alive. But all his planning went out the window when he saw Kyla lunging at him with drawn blade. ”Damnation,” he thought, knowing that there would be no way to bring his sword to defense in time, only to be saved once again by an ally as the assassin, Poison, intercepted the shadowy blade and threw Kyla back. It looked as if his tactical appraisals were coming in handy, and he was glad that it was so. Unlike the Ixian Knights, he wasn’t immune to the ravages of combat and needed all the help that his allies could muster.

“Blaze what the hell do you think you’re doing?” he roared, suddenly seeing the street fighter ignore his orders to lunge across the room at Kyla rather than moving to intercept the archer. He knew then that it was wrong for him to have trusted the cocky youth, but the blame lie with him. He had met enough cocky teenagers who overestimated his abilities and sought only their own personal glory rather than the strategic advantage that came with teamwork. Zack Blaze was definitely one of those, though hopefully he grew out of that phase before it killed him.

Then James saw Zack get attacked by the very same man he had just told the street fighter to engage and knew that it was far from likely that it would be so.

“Leon preserve the idiots,” he grumbled, sucking in his breath and preparing himself to enter the fray once again to save the impetuous youth. He was grateful to have had some rest, short enough as it was. Then as he stepped forward something crashed into the back of his head, something beaten and oddly familiar. The blow landed right on the same sodden mess where his head had impacted the church’s brick wall and suddenly James was on his hands and knees, eyes trying desperately to focus on the blurry image of the wooden floor beneath him. He wanted to cry out in pain, wanted to curse, but found the words catching in his throat.

This was it then, was it? He was to lose consciousness and be trampled by the rampaging hordes around him? It was a pitiful end, a pathetic end, and somewhere in James’ mind his thoughts rampaged against it. Wasn’t he the hero of Amra? Wasn’t he the chosen of Leon who had defended the Grand Temple of Illium against the infernal sorcerer’s demon hordes? Hadn’t he sworn an oath to return to Amra once the demon had been tracked down and put to rest once and for all?

Golden light suffused James form as the righteous might of Leon poured from him. He was Leonine, the chosen warrior of the Lion God and he would be damned if he let it end that way. Uttering a deep, guttural roar that resounded like the cry of an enraged savannah cat, James grabbed his sword in hand once more and leapt to his feet, charging the young archer that he may save his companion and bring all his forces to bear on his true enemies.

[Abomination]

Draug's attack was cut short by the seaweed that reached out of the cracking wrists to take hold of his four wrists. Upon recognition of this ability, he caused the hand coming out of his back to go back into his body, to press against the flesh of his spine and for the skin to merge between them. He couldn't move, his arms held in place in front of him by the wrists. His eyes moved upward, knowing that the rain of stones would come soon to finish him off. Quickly, the arm attached to his back ripped free from its skin prison, ripping a dagger from his right shoulder blade. The arm brought itself around his body and stabbed at the seaweed, but to no avail. It was highly resistant to any sort of physical attack. He had little time, so he grit his carnivorous teeth and brought his dagger down in an arc, using his strength to chop off his own arms past the seaweed's grasp. The swords and mace fell to the ground, hands still holding them, and Draug jumped out of the way of the first few stones, which crashed into the ground and kicked up dust and broken stone.

His face turned pale as blood poured out of his stumps. He brought what was left of his arms inward, pressing them against his body to try to clot the blood faster. His vision started getting blurry, and his breath was in short bursts. That is when he noticed the glass shard that Kyla injured herself on. His instincts took over, diving for the dagger and letting it stab into one of his stumpy arms. The next moment, he felt a rush of memories enter his head, and what's more his body shuddered uncontrollably.

Something was wrong.

"Argh..."

He got back up, barely able to hear anything from the deafening sound of the stones crashing into the spot where he stood. They were not entirely accurate however, so the others were in danger as well, especially if any of the sphere-shaped projectiles ricocheted towards them. The bleeding stopped for now, but he noticed that the last drip of blood out of his body was blue. Veins emerged all over his body, and a dull pain coursed through them. His bloodshot, dark eyes glanced over at Kyla's anklet and his memories filled in the blanks. His body was trying to conjure both the powers of light and shadow simultaneously, and the combination was far more poisonous than the disease he carried. He felt little emotion, little pain, those feelings diluted down to almost nothing, but right now he couldn't deny the sensation of dying. If it wasn't for his regeneration replacing the poisonous cells with fresh ones and the fact that assimilation only mimics a fraction of the victim's power, he would be unable to move, writhing on the ground as the conflicting types of magic destroyed him.

Still, he had to get rid of the magic as fast as he could. He pressed his four stumps together, creating an orb of energy in front of him. Shadow and light mixed before him, leaving his body to create the dreaded Mystic Bomb. While usually he could use a wide range of his victim's powers in limited effectiveness, he elected instead to pour most of it into one attack. He looked at Sei, remembering his question.

"The Dark Mother cares not for killing you. Suffering... that is her great joy." He passed a glance at Kyla. He left the Mystic Bomb sitting in mid-air, jumping back and pressing his back against the wall, the extra hand on his back with the dagger shriveling up and falling to the ground, popping off his back like a bottle cap. With his remaining power, he cast Mystic Protection to protect himself from the blast. Unfortunately, this attack was also dangerous to his so-called allies, but that was none of his concern. A room full of body parts was ripe for the picking.

[Amber Eyes]

Kyla's mind froze as once again the strange blonde monster ran towards her.

She was in Sei's office, begging him to be allowed in this battle. "I'm a general for Thanynes sake! I can't just sit around while the men go out prepared to lay down their lives. You have to let me go!"

Sei's face had been clear of emotion, a blank page. "I know you think you're ready for this Kylana, but you aren't. You've only just come back, I won't put you in danger."

Fury had raced through her, "You think I'm weak, that I can't handle myself? I've stood toe to toe with William Arcus, some of the worlds greatest warriors in the Serenti, and don't forget yourself!"

Sei's forehead wrinkled and he gave her a sort of snear, "How many of those battles did you win?

It felt like someone had kicked her in the gut. Anger rushed from her body and embarrasment and hurt quickly took its place. "Point taken." The young woman stood and began her way accross the large room, trying to keep tears from her eyes.

"Wait." Another shot of furor charged through her as she turned to face him.

"Why, so you can point out that I'm not the strongest one here? I understand that Sei, I needed to know that you thought I could do this. Obviously that isn't the case, so forget the whole idea. I'll just stay here, locked away in my ivory tower and training for my moment in the spotlight that will never come. Are you happy? Your baby girl will be safe and secure and completely useless for the rest of her life." Kyla stared deep into her uncle's light blue eyes.

The mute rose, softness and hurt filling his eyes. "I just got you back. I can't lose you again." He stared at the ground for a moment, letting his words sink in. "You are a capable fighter Kyla, but there are horrors in war that you can't comprehend now. It isn't just a battle in the citadel that will be forgotten tomorrow, people die, or they become something different because of the things they've seen." It seemed like the words hurt as they left his mind, but he continued. "You may fight with us, but I urge you to think about your reasons. The urge to feel important is a silly reason to lay down one's life. I love you Kylana.".


As Kyla left the room that night the answer seemed so clear, of course she was going for the right reasons, Corone was in turmoil. She had to fight, to help in any way she could. Now, as she stood nearly crying from pain in her leg, she was less sure of her noble intentions. Had she come here for selfish reasons?

When Sei appeared and his vines lifted her attacker into the air it took everything in the girl not to run to him and cry in his arms like a small child. She watched as the man freed himself, running not for her, but for the piece of glass that she had pulled from her leg minutes before. Her head was beginning to feel dizzy, and she was tired, so very tired. She touched her fingers to her temples in hopes that she could somehow make her body behave the way it was supposed to. When the mystic bomb began to form in front of her she thought at first she had cast it without knowing it, but something about it was different. This was not her spell, it was so similar and yet she did not feel the power from it connecting to her soul like her own spells had. Could the strange man posses light and dark magic? She shook her head, as though she could make the pieces fall into place so it would all make sense.

Kyla Orlouge lifted her arm, moving it ever so slowly. She kissed Sophia's mane as a second white orb appeared near the Hommoculous. Black shadows began to choke the second ball of light, seconds behind the first. She made contact with her uncle, who nodded solomnly in her direction.

As the blast hit his words played in her head.

"You've only just come back, I won't put you in danger."

She had thrown a fit and gotten her way as always.

"I just got you back. I can't lose you again"

What had she done?

"The urge to feel important is a silly reason to lay down one's life."

Was she really seeking good, or just seeking attention?

"I love you Kylana."

She spoke to him, hoping her could hear her even as she felt herself losing conciousness. "I'm sorry Sei."

[Poison]

Poison blocked the swipe of Kyla's sword with her sai and stood her ground. She would not be pushed back so easily. She ignored Sei's attempt to draw her attention away from Kyla. She knew she would stand no chance against Sei, but against the girl before her? Poison was quite a bit more confidant facing Kyla than Sei.

Then several things seemed to happen at once. The creature with many arms had begun to act strangely. Her target seemed to freeze as she saw what the monster was doing. The orb of light and dark puzzled the vampiress, but she was smart enough to know that if worried her target as it did, then it must be very powerful indeed. She started running for a wall as she'd see the creature do, but she was not nearly as fast as she could have hoped. She covered her face with her arms as she felt a blast at her back, shoving her forward with incredible force.

She fell and slid along the floor on her belly, coming to rest near the wall.

[Zack Blaze]

As Zack glided for the air, clearly aiming his punch at Bellator, his opponent countered. In the air, Zack Blaze could have possibly dodged an arrow being shot at him; a quick turn of his body would have prevented any major arteries being hit. However, Bellator had decided to brandish an arrow tip, shoving the makeshift shiv towards the airborne street fighter. Out of the corner of his eye, Zack could see the leader of the small task force, James, coming to his aide. Before the knight could counter, however, it was too late.

Three jabs, a beautiful symphony of squishy sounds as the arrow slammed into the center of Zack’s chest, just below his left rib cage, and into his left pectoral muscle. He could feel the weapon tear through his skin, the blood welling up in his stomach only to come out in a violent retch. Bellator pulled his weapon away quick enough, and Zack’s body fell to the ground face first.

Rolling over, Zack took a hard swallow. He could hear the faintest of sounds of the pandemonium going on around him. A slight smile crossed his features, nodding a gesture of ‘well done’ towards Bellator. Turned out the kid wasn’t as much of a wuss as he had originally thought. His eyes quickly went back to the ceiling, blood drizzling out of the corner of his lips as his vision started becoming more blurry.

“It’s….okay, I suppose…” Zack spoke to nobody in particular, coughing up droplets of blood that just landed back on his pale face. “I mean somebody had to die….it’s a war, right? I just….wish….it hadn’t been….me…”

Zack’s face slumped to the side of the ground, crimson liquids flowing out of his new chest cavities and onto the floor. His allies in Misery Business would surely waste no expense at reviving him; it was a stipulation in the contract he had signed. This was the first time Zack Blaze had experienced death, however, so all of the sensations were quite new to him; the blood as it drained from his body, the strange scent of copper, the white noise in his ears, and the strange calm that seemed to come with knowing the end was nigh.

In those final moments, Zack Blaze had decided that dying really wasn’t for him.

[Silence Sei]

Sei stood in the doorway, helpless as the creature from the Cult of Blessed Torture attacked his niece with her own spell. He nodded when Kyla looked to him, knowing what the girl was going to do. However, Sei did not realize that the young Mystic was planning to form her own Mystic Bomb attack so close to her own body. Sei looked to Bellator quickly, casting Mystic Protection on the child as the first Mystic Bomb exploded, shattering the glass that the homunculus had used to cast his own version of the spell.

Then, the second explosion rocked city hall, the one that belonged to Kyla.

The sheer force of the blast in such a tight-knight area forced Sei out of the door, flying straight through a door directly across from the council room. Chairs were sent everywhere in a flurry of steel and padding, the doors to the room (as well as the door to the room Sei had been launched through) flew off their hinges, and clouds of smoke and dust filled the halls.

The floor of the room was strangely cold, and there was a familiar smell the mute could not quite pinpoint. Pushing himself up from the ground, Sei looked around the area. To his right stood three stalls, the two closest to the wall relatively fine, while the one closest to the entrance had caved in on itself thanks to the dislodged door. To his left were three urinals, and two sinks beyond that. It was now that Sei had recognized the scent of fake lemons. He had been thrown into the men’s room.

Sei groaned, or would if he could have. Every muscle in his body had an ache to it, and the mute could feel a small throbbing in his head indicative of a head ache. Checking himself for anything serious, Sei soon found that the only real damage to his person were a few nasty lumps on the back of his head. There was a good chance that the Mystic’s relative had inadvertently concussed him.

The thought of Kyla sent Sei’s body running back to the council room entrance. Despite the nauseous feeling in the pit of his stomach and the hurt in his joints, Sei arrived in the dust filled room with relatively no problem. His eyes quickly scanned the area, not even paying attention to who survived and who had not. Only one person mattered to the telepath at this very moment. When he saw Kyla’s body smoldering and blackened at the epicenter of the blast, Sei ran to her. Each footstep carried with it a memory of the girl that flashed through his mind.

The first step was the day they had met. At that point, Kyla had just been a girl curious about her past, thinking Sei could help her find a new life. The mute had not only helped the girl, but took the girl in as his own daughter, swearing to protect her from anything that would dare bring harm to her.

The second step was their first visit to Chateau Drantrak. It was there that Kyla had found her biological father, Sei’s brother Niche. Though the girl and her father had a tearful reunion, there was much distance between them. Kyla had taken the shadow trials, saving Sei’s life from an evil wizard wishing to claim the power of Mystic shadow magic for himself. Kyla had left with the mute to help nurse him back to health physically, as he had done for her emotionally.

The third step involved meeting the entire Orlouge clan. Kyla had snuck off with her ‘sister’ to take the light trials of Orlouge Drantrak. Once Sei had found them, he realized that Kyla’s body now hosted two magics that were never meant to co-exist. To save her life, Sei had given her a magic ring. This temporarily held off the feuding elements that now lived within the girl, at least temporarily. He could still remember the tears that filled his eyes when she thought she would soon die, the same tears that welled up in him now.

The fourth step brought with it the discovery of Kyla’s zodiac weapon, and its powers. With a simple jabbing of the claw that would later be known as ‘Sophia’s Mane’, Kyla had literally stolen the soul from a woman threatening Sei’s life. Several months later, Kyla was at the bedside of this same woman, now comatose, begging her forgiveness. As she had done this, Sophia’s Mane had restored the woman’s soul. Sei remembered thinking that the weapon was a reflection of Kyla herself, who could not only touch people’s souls metaphorically, but manage to make them better people in the long run for it.

The fifth step, the one that brought Sei to Kyla’s body, flashed the last conversation the two had before the war. The conversation where Sei had conceded to his kin, allowed her to join this fight. His words haunted his mind as he reached down towards her body, hands absolutely trembling with fear he would feel no pulse from the young lady. Sei unclasped the cloth draped over his shoulder with his spare hand, turning Kyla around and covering her form with Jomil’s Touch. Sei knew the object would not rot away Kyla, due to her being organic and Sei not wishing for the effect to activate upon her.

He placed his arms under the girl, every bone feeling as if it were on the verge of snapping as he lifted the body up. This was no place to check her life signs; they were both giant targets out in the open like this. The mute wrapped his arms around the girl’s body and began to run out of the doors, hoping that Bellator was a smart enough lad to either follow suit or cover their retreat. Kyla needed help, needed medical attention.

This war be damned, to Sei Orlouge, only three words mattered at the moment.

Family. Comes. First.


((Sei leaves with Kyla's body to the streets.))

[Max Dirks]

Upon arriving at City Hall, Dirks immediately went to work. Moving quickly around the outside of City Hall, Dirks found anything prone to fire—kindling, paper, exposed wood—and began pouring concentrated amounts of the uninfected oil on them. While he worked, Dirks could hear grunts and screams coming from within in the hall. It was difficult not to stop his endeavor and immediately rush to Sei’s side, but the knight and his imp friend had proven too resourceful to be stopped by a few bullets. Dirks figured most of the opposition would be the same. You can’t go to war against a major institution without bringing out the best.

Eventually Dirks circled around City Hall and ended up back at its doors, but before Dirks could continue his preparations, Sei Orlogue blasted through the front door carrying Kyla. The sight of Kyla momentarily stunned Dirks. She was torn apart and did not appear to be breathing. “Sei,” Dirks called out. “Sei, what happened?” The mystic did not respond, so Dirks followed him a few steps down the road. “Sei, is she dead?”

The question caused Sei to stop in his tracks. He turned on his heels and looked to Dirks. I…I…she needs help. Just watch our backs. Dirks nodded, and Sei took off. The criminal watched Sei until he turned a corner, heading for the edge of town. These opponents were far more intelligent that Dirks had originally given them credit for, especially after being forced to listen to the knight blabber on in the church. Sei had an obvious Achilles’ heel and that was his family. If Kyla did die, Sei would be back. He would be void of rational thought and would most assuredly get himself killed. To help his friend, Dirks would have to make sure there was nothing in this Hall to come back to.

Determined, Dirks ripped off a piece of his tunic, twisted it up and dipped one end into the vase full of infected oil. It was time to smoke his opponents out, and bring them down. With his Molotov cocktail in hand, Dirks positioned himself in front of the door to City Hall. He was about ready to kick in the door and send his present flying when he realized something: he had no fire to light the cocktail. “Shit,” Dirks swore.

((Bunnies of Sei approved, Sei has moved onto the Farm))

[The Cinderella Man]

((Though this technically happens in the Streets, I’m posting it here because Max is here and he’s my target))

His fingers were itchy, the palm of the hand holding Aicha sweaty by now. He took the pistol in his left, wiped the hand against his pants, then used his shirt to wipe the gun as well. By then another figure emerged in front of the City Hall, and this one Victor recognized even if he never met the man in person. Because Max Dirks had his face on many a wanted poster in Corone, and even from this far away his identity was unmistakable. More so if one counted in the twin guns. Everybody knew about Dirks and his twin death-dealers. The kids wanted to be just like Dirks, making pistols out of their fingers and pew-pew-pewing at each other, and the grown-ups used him as a cautionary tale, wagging their fingers and telling the kids that it was only a matter of time before this criminal was caught or killed or both. Victor didn’t care much about the man and the tales that followed him, but the guns were something he grew to respect, had to given how much he had been using his own.

That was why, when Sei burst out of the City Hall and Dirks sent him on his way, Victor didn’t go after the mute. He was well aware that Sei was a dangerous man, and that a single bullet well aimed could end him and his revolution, but looking at those twin guns, he didn’t seem like the real threat. Victor didn’t know what Sei could do, but he was well aware of what kind of carnage pistols could do. So once Sei disappeared around the corner and Dirks returned to the City Hall, Victor slipped out of his leafy cover and made a move towards the infamous criminal. Aicha was drawn and aimed, Victor using both hands to steady his aim as he made his approach. His steps were firm and fast, perhaps a bit heavy for a stealthy approach, but still not hasty enough to disrupt his aim as he closed the distance. He was still some twenty paces away, not enough to distinguish what Dirks held in his hand, when he called out.

“I’d drop that if I were you,” the bulky man heralded his approach. Again, his target had its back turned to him, and again he couldn’t force himself to fire away. There was something sinister about killing a man from behind, something goddamn awful in ending a life with such suddenness, that Victor lost taste for it after the first time he had done it. He needed to look at the face of his kill. Life was such a precious thing to steal away from someone that it deserved at least a introduction before it was done.

[Abomination]

The sequence of events in the council room of the City Hall couldn't have been harder to imagine. Draug stood, secure in the fact that the Mystic Protection spell he just cast would protect him from the Mystic Bomb, but then he saw Kyla cast the second one. The Homunculus could not move his body, the blue blood in his veins interfering with his basic functions. The feeling was fading as the assimilation was ending, his blood slowly turning back into its natural crimson color, but the transformation was not happening fast enough. He glared at the young Mystic, bits and pieces in his memory telling him that she used this ability once before. Casting it again was far more suicidal than anything Draug considered doing.

The next thing he knew, his own bomb exploded, immediately creating a sphere of cracked class around him that stopped at the wall. The speed at which the glass cracked bothered him, and as the glass shards flew in every direction, he knew what was coming. The blast had displaced all the furniture in the room, sending chairs flying at walls and overturning the redwood table in the middle. He tried to turn to his right to get away, but his body wouldn't listen. He took one step forward and then fell to a knee. He was a simple being with simple thoughts, and often his mind was in a state of deep meditation. Pure nothingness washed over him, and in that nothing he found Cassandra Remi, his mother. She was always the one to pull him out of the darkness, to give him purpose and reason.

The second Mystic Bomb exploded, and everything went white for him for a split-second before it turned dark again. In his head, he had a distinct memory, and when he opened his eyes he replayed the scene before him. Cassandra Remi stood over him in the hellish hideout of the Cult of Blessed Torture. She was the first thing he saw, and due to previously being a ghoul his mind had regressed to an earlier state in his life. He was an infant once more, and the first thing he saw was his mother. He reached for her, and she took his hand. It was the warmest feeling he had ever felt, and from that point on he thought of nothing but serving her. The memory faded, and all he heard from that point on was the sound of glass cracking once again, sending little shards of death in every direction including his own. Fortunately, due to him being on one knee and the overturned table being between him and the source of the glass, none of the shards from this one hit him, but the damage from Kyla's bomb was already done.

He stood back up, the darkness slowly receding to give him vision. He felt numb. His body returned to its red-blooded state, allowing him free movement again, but there was not much to move. He looked down and noticed that his two left stumpy arms were missing, as well as his entire left shoulder. His flesh was exposed all the way down from his missing shoulder to his knee. The ribs were visible. Part of the flesh on his lower jaw was torn off, revealing his sharp teeth all the way to the side of his mouth. Numerous gashes were on the left side of his face. A pool of blood grew at the base of his feet. To top it off, a strong sensation of fatigue afflicted him, a side-effect of using the Mystic Bomb. He had trouble keeping his eyes open, and as he took a step forward he found that he had a limp, likely from losing muscle mass in the leg from the blast. He was covered in blood, and while he started with twice the amount of a normal person, he likely had less than a fourth left. Not enough to grow limbs at his leisure.

It was still hard to see around the smoke-filled room. It was like a war zone, with cracks in the walls and broken shards of glass on the floor mixed with his blood. At this point, simply walking around would get someone infected with his disease. Every time he took a breath, blood seeped out of his mouth. It was likely that one of his lungs collapsed. While it was hard to see through the smoke, he could tell that that his primary targets, the Ixian Generals, were missing. While it was a bit absurd to think he could do anything to them now, he still rationalized that being here any longer was of no use to him.

He started limping towards the entryway, the room twisting and spinning around him as his head bobbed up and down with each step. His remaining two arms on his right side merged together, first skin fusing and then reallocating the muscles and bones. The skin moved down his arm, forming a bulbous tumor of flesh at the end of the combined stump. With a little time, he could rebuild the hand of his original right arm. The same nothingness that often enveloped him took over his mind, and in that nothing he heard a sweet voice, a lullaby. It was difficult for him to feel emotions, but when he heard that lullaby deep within the recesses of his twisted psyche, he felt a reason to go on. To return to his mother, to live another day.

[Lionheart]

James eyed Zack still, lifeless form and realized that his surge of righteous fervor had come too late. His thoughts turned to remorse and then anger. His remorse was for the many comrades he had seen slain before him in the many cruel years of war that he had been a part of. His anger was directed towards both the archer, for slaying Zack, as well as at the street fighter himself for disobeying James’ orders and leaping headlong into death because of it. But even though the youth had chosen his own fate, James could at least avenge him and see to it that the fatal favor was paid back to the Ixian Knights in full.

Before his blade could strike out and end the young archer however, a second blast akin to the one that had struck him in the church went off several feet away in the midst of the second combat going on in the council chamber. James barely had time to look over in surprise before the blast wave and ensuing shrapnel hit him, lifting him several feet off the floor and peppering his unprotected face with sharp bits of debris. As before, his heavy armor took most of the brunt of the attack, which was itself muted by its distance from him, but James had already been beaten almost to his breaking point by the day’s events and this was the final straw.

The Amran felt his righteous fury abate as he crashed into the opposite wall, leaving him weak and barely able to lift himself up. The pain in his head increased until the knight could barely see through it, and what little he could see down the dark tunnel that his vision had become gave him little hope. The entirety of the council chambers had become naught but glass shards, spattered blood, and surging magical energy.

Wait a minute, he blinked slowly. The recognition had little time to dawn on James’ shattered mind as the second bomb in the council chamber went off. Fortunately for him he had already been thrown well clear of the explosion’s main area of effect, but the council chamber itself hadn’t been quite so lucky. The timbers above the council chamber, devastated by a series of exploding magical shields and bombs, groaned painfully. James did the best he could, clawing his way towards some local elder’s personal chambers as the roof of the council building collapsed behind him.

Awash in a sea of dust and grit from the cloudy mess that the falling roof created, James lay limp in the personal chambers, wracked with coughing until his consciousness, mercifully, gave out.

[Max Dirks]

Dirks froze when he heard the voice behind him. After a moment, a light smirk appeared on the criminal’s face. The owner of the voice must be at least 30 feet away. No weapon the man possessed could cross the distance between the two faster than a bullet from Dirks’ Beretta. “Okay, I’m setting it down now.” Dirks bent over and set the vase on the ground. He stood back up, holding his arms over his head. “You're making a terrible mistake, you know?”

As soon as the words escaped his lips, Dirks had dropped forward to the ground. While falling, he reached into his chest holster and withdrew his ‘patented’ Beretta. Immediately after hitting the ground, Dirks rolled and took aim at the man. Two shots were fired, but only one came from Dirks’ gun. Neither shot hit its mark, nor did Dirks dare to fire again. Instead, his eyes widened as they fell upon his assailant’s semi-automatic pistol. “...Nice Toy.”

Instantly Dirks was on his feet, running for anything to serve as cover. Though it had been a long time, Dirks was no stranger to gun combat. The idea was to keep moving, keep firing, and pray you don’t get hit. As Dirks ran, he emptied his entire clip at the gunslinger, who had practically mirrored Dirks’ actions. Eventually Dirks came across a barrel next to the church. He dove behind it just as one of the gunslinger’s bullets tore by his head.

Once protected, Dirks took an inventory of his ammo. His ‘patented’ Beretta had been completely depleted, and he only had two bullets left in its twin. Cursing, Dirks peaked over the barrel. He could no longer see the gunslinger. In fact, he could no longer see much of anything. A sharp pain tore through Dirks’ head, almost as though he had been shot. Frantically, he felt all around his head searching for an entry wound, but found nothing. The pain grew more and more intense and Dirks fell to the ground. Was this some kind of psychic attack by his assailant?

At that moment, the ground started shaking. Or maybe it was just Dirks. A roar erupted from up the street as the shaking became more intense. Dirks looked up to see at least 50 zebras stampeding up the road. He watched them pass, and then violently shook his head. “They aren’t real.” Dirks mumbled. It didn’t matter though, Dirks melon was completely fried. Still convinced this was some sort of attack, Dirks forced himself to his feet and leaned over the barrel. All he could see clearly was the vase he had just set down. Though he doubted the disease would spread quickly enough, maybe it would limit the man’s hold on Dirks’ brain. Dirks extended his arm, took aim, and fired. The first shot missed the vase entirely, but the second hit home. Instead of merely breaking the vase and spreading the oil around though, the second shot released the Tap.

A vibrant blue light erupted from the vase. Any mage in the vicinity would be hit with the same sharp pain Dirks felt in his head. Ancillary to the psionic effects, the shockwave blasted off the top of City Hall's chimney. It fell away from the combatants onto the ground at the far end of the building. Though Dirks could not see it, hot air escape from the broken brick, heating Dirk's oil to dangerous levels.

((The bunny of Victor firing the guns is approved by Letho. FYI, Dirks was an unreliable narrator for the majority of that post, because he was taken ill by the ‘psionic’ connection explained by Sei’s post in the farm. Earlier, Sei cast the spell “If I would” on Victor. Because Victor followed Sei to City Hall, the random effect of the spell was set in motion. Sei used a number generator and came up with 7, 9, 9, 10. Anything above 7 is usually harmful Sei, so I made it so the result would have killed Sei. He used a word generator that contained the words “zebra, melon, arm, and tap” which I integrated into my post. The ultimately “random” action caused by the “If I would” spell was that the vase created a magical shockwave that would attack all mages in its path. The Zebra's weren't real))

[The Cinderella Man]

Usually, gunning people down boiled down to prioritizing your targets. Victor had been in countless shitstorms where his foes came at him with sticks and swords and spears and shields, and the most difficult thing he had to do was decide which one could get to him soonest and then put a hole in that particular enemy. Everything else was just repetition, the heartless act of adjusting the aim, pulling the trigger and see life blown right out of people. It was almost unfair, like a finger-of-death spell that some wizards supposedly had in their arsenal, only Victor had about a dozen of them per clip.

But shooting an elusive, moving target was an entirely different prospect, more so when that target had the audacious idea to shoot back. The first shot actually caught Victor with his pants down and his ass hanging out, the gunfighter not expecting Dirks to dodge and fire in such quick succession. If the criminal took a fraction of a second more to steady his hand, he probably would’ve had a clean shot at a mostly stationary Victor. But as it turned out, the shot zipped about a foot to the side, and then the dance began. Dirks went left and Victor went right and the bullets went everywhere, the thunder of guns sending them around like angry hornets. There was very little calculation to their movement; there was scarcely a time for a rational thought when every resounding shot could be the last thing you hear in your life. Every time Victor adjusted his aim and thought he lead his shot just perfectly, Dirks changed direction, pivoted, backpedalling and constantly firing. Such was the rapidity of the criminal’s shooting that for every one bullet Aicha unleashed, his opponent seemed to fire two, forcing Victor to roll to the side, scramble back to his feet, strafe to one side then the other. The dirt and gunsmoke filled his lungs, their taste thick and bitter.

In the end they both wound up a clip short, but none worst for damage. Dirks managed to duck behind a barrel, possibly to reload, and by then Victor was at the main entrance to the City Hall, back against the open door with Aicha billowing thin string of smoke from her barrel. Her slide was all the way back, the magazine spent in the mayhem. The empty clip slipped out after a soft click, but when the gunslinger reached for his coat pocked for a spare, he found nothing but lint. Some twenty feet from his position, a pair of clips lay in the dirt, the .45 caliber bullets giving off a faint sheen that seemed to mock their owner. Victor considered making a dash for them, but the moment he set foot from the protection of the doorway, a bullet zinged past his foot.

Bastard has me covered, Victor thought, looking at Aicha with a frown before he showed the pistol back in its holster. He still had a couple of shots in his sawed-off, but he could never shoot Dirks at this range before getting two or three holes as a memento. No, he had to close the distance, and do if fast before his opponent repositioned, and the best way to do it was through the City Hall.

The first thing that struck Victor the moment he entered was a wall of smoke, forcing a dry cough as he stumbled through the grey mist. The second was a headache the size of a boat. It shot from one temple to the other with such ferocity that for a moment gunfighter stumbled against the wall, reaching for his head with hands. He felt as if he just ate a bucket worth of snowcones and now they were paying him back with an icepick through his head. The hell... Bad goddamn whiskey... No time... Gotta move... The thoughts came in spurts, forcing their way through the pain, reminding him of Max and the barrel and the plan to take the criminal out. Somehow he shoved off the wall and covered his face with the crook of his left arm, pushing on through the ache and smoke, knowing he didn’t have to go far. The first door to the left of the entrance led to a windowless storage, but the next one was a large conference room that occupied the corner of the building. It had three high, arched windows, two opening to the front of the building and one looking down on the side alley. He approached the front windows as carefully as he could with a drummer banging against the insides of his skill, suppressing the instinctive need to cough, mindful not to disturb the curtains overmuch. The window closest to the main door of the building seemed to open just ahead of Dirks and his barrel, but the one closest to the corner gave Victor a clear shot at his target’s back. Well, not necessarily a clear shot, what with the gunman's eyes moistening from trying the keep the headache at bay.

Back again, a thought sneaked past the pain in his forehead as the barrel of his sawed-off shotgun slowly pushed the heavy red drapery aside. The latch on the window was locked, but it was old and loose and easy to move. Yet even as Victor gently moved it up, a draft showed against the window, pushing it outwards with such force that it almost went full circle before it slammed against the outside wall. There was no time to ponder on it anymore, no time for decency or courtesy or his goddamn conscience. The wind blew his surprise out just like the window and all it remained was to lean out and...

BLAM!!!

The sound of the shotgun was like an explosion of its own, only smaller and sharper, like the world’s largest firecracker. Whether the pellets turned Dirks into minced meat or missed completely, Victor couldn’t tell. Because even as he unloaded his shot and the shotgun spew smoke and fire out of its wide barrel, another jolt of pain went through his forehead. The headache had been subsiding gradually as he made his way through the building, but the sharp sound of the shotgun being fired inches from his ears brought it all back again, making him stumble back a couple of steps. Victor fell to one knee, trying to inhale deeply and getting naught but smoke for his effort and a cough that rattled his irritated throat. Only, once his cough calmed down, he realized that perhaps there was something else. Even through the headache and the buckshot still echoing in his ears and smoke filling the room all around him, he could've swore that he smelled petroleum.

((The headache is an effect of Sei's "If I could" spell, the effects mentioned in his post in the Farm))

[Abomination]

Draug was out of the room, the way in front of him tilted by his vision. Every time he blinked, blood dripped out of his eyes. Every time he breathed, blood spat out of his mouth. Every time he moved, blood spilled from his joints. He briefly considered taking stock of the smoky room to see if any body parts were available for his taking, but judging from Kyla's body the rest were likely just as roasted. Also, they didn't look like they had anything worth taking either. Maybe in a few years, but not now. The scene between Kyla and Sei mixed with his memories of her, from her point of view. That was the problem with absorbing memories. They were also the only thing retained after an assimilation, but they tended only to provide background information or long-term knowledge. A dull ache filled his head, a strange sort of pain that he couldn't associate with any part of his body. The pain grew and grew until Draug twitched with discomfort. It was as if the pain was being transmitted directly into his mind. Between that and the pain given to him by his body, for once he was genuinely feeling the hurt.

As he walked through the hall, he noticed James' kite shield among the scattered debris. He had no idea what had become of the knight, but now it didn't matter. The clump of flesh at the end of his right arm twisted and reshaped itself, visible knuckles protruding from the mass, followed by the division into fingers. He extended the fat fingers and thumb, the extra flesh receding back into his body as his new hand was formed. It was likely the last bit of body manipulation he could do for a while. He put the new hand to use by picking up the shield and sticking it onto his left side, the stickiness of his exposed flesh keeping it in place. It took the place of his left shoulder, but he could not really move it. He held it in place as he kept walking, letting his skin latch onto it like a steel trap.

"Daddy!" came a young voice from behind.

Draug turned around, sensing a strange familiarity with the voice, but nothing was there. His weakened state, the meddling inside his mind, and Kyla's memories... was he hallucinating? Was he thinking of his own father? No, that couldn't be. He only had a mother. Another possibility, a thought of his own invention, emerged within his mind- A son? Why he thought of a boy and not a girl was strange, but it felt like it held some truth to it. He never thought about his life before his transformation into the elite super-ghoul that was bound with divine essence. There was nothing to think about, as his memories were blank. He couldn't even remember his time as a simple ghoul, driven entirely by bestial urges like the rest of them. He shrugged off this thought as he reached the exit to the city hall.

Unfortunately, it was far from peaceful over there. Several loud bangs he now recognized as gunshots had preceded his trek, which he distinctly associated with the man in the church. Kyla's memories told him the man's name was Max Dirks. Apparently this was a rather recent memory. Another loud crash occurred when something big fell onto the ground outside. Pressing his hand deeper on the kite shield on his left shoulder, he grimaced from the pain, a rare sign of showing an emotion. There was a faint light of humanity in his eyes. Stepping outside the city hall finally, he heard the sound of the shotgun, which was the loudest thing thus far. This caused him to reconsider his previous assessment. He was somewhat familiar with this type of weaponry, if only from what he heard in descriptions and his stolen memories. After all, when he spied on the man in the tavern he saw a weapon that could produce such a sound. Could that man be fighting Dirks?

As he walked into the street, he started limping towards the source of the sound. He reached into his throat, coughing and pulling out one of his remaining swords. If the tavern man won, having a few bullet holes in his body would be the least of Dirks' worries.

((Taking the shield approved by Lionheart. Draug stays in the City Hall area due to the others being here as well.))

[Max Dirks]

Within seconds of the psionic blast, Dirks’ headache subsided. It was as though any psychic connection between the criminal and his mysterious assailant had been instantly severed. What the hell just happened? Dirks wondered. The whole ordeal had left him rather disoriented. Still leaning over the barrel, Dirks still took a moment to re-evaluate his position. And naturally, that split second nearly cost him his life.

The buckshot caught Dirks square in the back. At a distance of no more than ten feet, the force of the blast caused Dirks to burst through the barrel and land face down in a mixture of blood, oil and spilled grain. “Urgh,” Dirks groaned. Most of the shot had caught Dirks’ chainmail vest, causing him to feel as though a thousand needles had simultaneously been jabbed into his spine. But his shoulder had been severely damaged. Unprotected except for his trench coat, the buckshot had shattered his right clavicle and he was bleeding profusely from the wound.

Unwilling to die in a pool of his own blood, Dirks forced himself off the ground. Finding it somewhat difficult to balance on one arm, it took Dirks a moment to rise to his feet. Once stationary, the criminal stumbled forward. The blood loss had made him incredibly lightheaded. Dirks moved to the corner of the building and stopped. There, near the entrance, was the strange creature that had rescued the knight earlier in the church. Not wanting to give away his position, Dirks slid against the wall to hide. The pain from the movement was intense. It was like reliving the shotgun blast once more.

A moment passed, and Dirks heard a faint “fuph.” Unsure of its source, he kept his eyes focused on the front of the building ready to attack anything that came around the corner. Then suddenly a large wall of fire burst from the back of City Hall. Unknown to Dirks, the broken chimney had heated the oil and set it ablaze. Dirks looked to his left and his eyes turned bright. “Oh shit!” he exclaimed.

Dirks forced himself away from the building and started running into the street. The flame quickly engulfed the place where Dirks once stood and passed around the corner. Holding his hand against his shoulder to stop the blood, Dirks turned just as the flame passed under the weird creature. The fire had now spread all the way around the building, and had caught the grain and kindling spaced throughout. Burning hot due to the oil, soon the entire building would catch fire, engulfing anyone still caught inside.

Stuck in the open and nearly out of options, Dirks wondered how long he could continue to hold off the scourge of Corone.

[Poison]

The first blast had thrown Poison off her feet. When she had hit the floor, she'd skimmed across it floor until her body hit the wall. She lay there a moment, then as she started to rise, shaking her head to clear it, the second blast filled the room and she was tossed against the wall once more. This time, she was far enough away that she was able to hit the floor and elude most of the shrapnel and glass shards flying about the room. Several shards grazed across her back and shoulders and she grit her teeth against the pain. She knew her back was likely a mangled mess. It certainly felt like it. She also knew she would heal, but it would take her some time.

Damn Mystics and their magic...

Slowly, she got to her feet, leaning against the wall for support. The ceiling rumbled above her and she saw the cracks spreading quickly throughout the timbers supporting it. She looked around frantically for a place to hide and saw the knight making his way into a room. She followed him quickly, her face twisted in a grimace of pain at the forced movement. She reached the doorframe just as the council chamber ceiling gave way. She collapsed to her knees and only then did she notice the knight laying unconscious on the floor.

She stared at him for several seconds before she realized that her fangs had elongated. She needed to feed. It would help her heal more quickly if she fed now. But there was no time to waste. She could smell the wood burning and knew in an instant that she needed to get out of building. She crawled over to the fallen knight and shook him, trying to wake him. While she didn't care about the man personally, she was of the opinion that very few people deserved the painful end of burning to death.

"Wake up, Knight! The building is burning!"


She didn't try for long before she slowly got to her feet. The chamber had only one window that was miraculously still intact. She coughed as smoke was starting to fill the room. The heat from the flames consuming the building was becoming more and more oppressive. She took a chair and threw it through the window, grimacing as pain wracked her back as she did. She looked back once at the knight, licking her lips briefly. She could take a quick drink, but it would put her at a greater risk of being caught in the fire. Gritting her teeth against the pain in her back she bent and slid her arms under the knight's shoulders. She pulled on him trying to drag him to the window.

Come on, damn you! Wake up!

It seemed to take her forever, but she got the knight to the window. She panted for breath from the effort and coughed harder. It would not be long before the combination of the collapsed council room ceiling and the destruction the fire was causing to make the ceiling in this room also collapse. She looked through the window. It would be easy to abandon the knight and hope he woke in time to crawl out the window.

This would be a lot easier if he wasn't wearing so much damn armor...

Taking a deep breath she bent and lifted the unconscious man to a sitting position beneath the window. She might wind up banging his head on the ground outside, but a headache was likely far more preferable than death by fire. Trying to ignore the pain engulfing her back, she slowly lifted him until he was sitting on the windowsill.

"Out you go..." she said as she pushed him backward out of the window. She followed as quickly as she was able, then bent to drag him away from the wall. Little by little she dragged him across the small alleyway to the shade of the neighboring building. Panting and groaning against the pain in her back, she lay there, not daring to lean against the wall lest she injure herself further. At least now she and the knight were out of the building and a tiny bit safer. She could only hope now that anyone that found her would either be an ally or merciful and leave her be. She had no strength left to fight. She only wanted two things: a good drink from someone and then a very long nap while her back healed.


((moving to streets. movement of James is approved.))

[The Cinderella Man]

Victor wasn’t aware how much time passed until he willed himself back to his feet. Could’ve been seconds. Could’ve been hours. Pain had a nasty way of distorting time, making a minute seem like an eternity, especially when it was as implacable as the one wreaking the gunman’s head. But after a few moments spent on his knees with his head in his hands, trying to think of a happy place, it finally seemed like it was subsiding. Or maybe he was just getting used to that piece of metal stuck between his temples. Either way, it was enough to get Victor back to reality, and the reality greeted him like a cruel stepmother, all fire and brimstone.

The nose knows, Victor thought bitterly, remembering the scent of fuel from moments ago. Someone saw fit to light the petroleum – Letho suspected Dirks, naturally – and by now there was a wall of vivid flames blocking every window, the flames and black smoke slowly creeping inside. They ate away at the curtains greedily, then continued onto the tapestries and carpets and wooden wall cladding, turning the entire room into an oven. Or a Furnace, Victor thought, the memory of his time spent in the famous Corone prison of the same name flashing in front of his mind’s eye. The heat was the same as he remembered, pinching at his skin with a myriad of fingers made of hot iron and refusing to let go. Soon it would feel as if the skin itself was burning. He had to get out, get away, or die an agonizing death. He had seen people burned alive in the Furnace. There were few sounds as haunting as a wail of a man being burned alive.

Victor stumbled back out of the room, one arm across his face, the other close to the wall as he felt his way through the smoke and towards the exit. Once he entered the hallways, the air cleared up enough for him to see more than five paces in front of him, but the smoke still harassed his lungs, making him cough as he went. To one side, he could see the main doors through which he entered minutes ago, or rather what was left of them. The entire breadth of the hallway was engulfed in flames, the double doors barely hanging on their hinges and burning eagerly. This was an old house, Victor concluded. Only old houses, with their wood dried and settled long ago, caught flame with such haste. His father told him that once, and old man Hector was an architect; he would likely know.

The gunslinger made his way across the hall, shouldered his way past another door and entered what looked like an office, but the window at the far end of it offered more of the same. He scrambled back, tried another, tried every damn door that wasn’t locked, but wherever he found a window, he found the fire as well, and every time it seemed closer to the door. Second floor, that was his only option, he thought. If he was lucky, he could jump onto an overhang or even a nearby building. But luck wasn’t a lady today. In fact, as far as Victor was concerned, luck had never been nothing but a bitch towards him. By the time he found the staircase amidst of all the smoke and fire and falling beams and lashing flame tongues, the entire length of it was burning, the fire spreading from a nearby window and up the carpeted floor.

“Son of a BITCH!!!” Victor exclaimed in frustration. He tried to brave the staircase all the same, but by the time he got to the second step, he felt as if he boots were melting and could smell his singed hair. No good, find another way, thoughts flashed in his head. The adrenaline from his impeding and very grueling death superseded the headache, allowing him to think a bit clearer. He surveyed the foyer quickly, noticed the entrance to a privy and almost immediately made a dash for it. The place didn’t smell half as bad as some of the toilets in local taverns, but it was still far from pleasant, smell of fresh shit on a warm day. The back of it was also burning by now, but what he was looking for was closer to the door anyways. He picked up two water basins, still sloshing with water, got them out in the hallway, then went into the female washroom and picked a third one. There were no more tapestries or curtains left untouched by the flames, but there was a huge flag of Corone hanging above the receptionist’s desk and Victor tore it down as fast as he could. Wrapping it around himself as best he could (and making sure it covered his head), he uplifted the three basins on his head. The fabric of the flag was relatively thin, but it held water better than his leather coat.

The gunslinger paused for a moment, a thought of how he could’ve been in Saddle Ablaze right now with a hooker in his lap mocking his current situation again, and then the charged down the hallway and through the front entrance.

The water helped, but not much. Victor kept his eyes and mouth closed as he sprinted through the flames, which meant there was no way to see that the doors were still hanging on its hinges, even if they were little more than charred wood and embers. He struck the left wing with his shoulder, feeling it burning right through his clothes and singing his skin. The left side of his face got lashed by the flames as well, the flag tearing from the impact against the door. But by the time he actually registered any of this, he was out in the streets, sprawling past another shambling figure and down the steps, falling into the dirt. He rolled a couple of times, tossed first the now burning flag of his body, then squeezed out of his leather coat. Finally the gunman rose, his body steaming from the evaporating water, his visage half-singed, his eyes filled with wrath borne out of pain. It didn’t take those angry eyes to find the cause of all this mayhem. The man that he had blew past wasn’t Dirks and didn’t look like much of a threat; in fact, Victor was almost positive he was actually a part of the Phoenix Ascendant. No, his target was a bit farther down the line, finally caught out of cover and out of bullets.

“Time to die, Dirks!” he bellowed, yanking the sawed-off free of its holster and aiming it at the wounded criminal. Max didn’t look like he was in a shape to put up a fight. In fact, to Victor he looked like a man with one foot in the grave and the other on some very loose footing. It was only courteous to offer him some assistance and put him in his rightful place.

So Victor pulled the trigger, hoping to send him on his way.

((I figure this should probably continue in the Streets, so for intents and purposes, Victor moves to the Streets))

[Abomination]

After both men passed by Draug, he continued limping out of range of the now-burning city hall and into the streets.

((Draug moves to the Streets. I'll make the real post there.))

[Enigmatic Immortal]

Closed