Round 1-Part Facade/Ice Reaver: Grand Hallway

[Solar Haven]

Begins March the 8th at 12:01 am EST. The fight ends March the 23rd at 12:01 am EST.

This is the Grand Hallway, everyone will be using this hallway to pass back and forth between the Throne room and Entryway, Unless they can teleport.

Participants:

Eiskalt:
Amber Eyes

BlueGhostofSeaside

black shadow

Hysteria

Devon Steel

Attackers:
Zack Blaze

Lady

Max Dirks

Echo_Naruga

Philomel

[Ashla]

Ashla leaned against the black, sleek walls of the grand hallway made up of Lividus Chalybs. The unique metal, only found in Eiskalt, was harder than steel and was pitch black. It also was slightly heavier, and it made the perfect metal from structures – the Eiskalt Castle was one of them. The castle rested on a large slop, right next to Lake Peaceful. Today was quite the bright day, only light snowfall had come on and the sun was out. Ashla could imagine the birds sitting on the gothic decorations of the castle’s exterior, singing merry tunes of this bright day.

However, for Ashla, today was not a bright and sunny day. War had broken out, in the other room, things were already quite violent. Ashla was the only one of the three leaders of this country around to find this. A deep glare formed in her eyes, Eiskalt was her responsibility. If war had broken out, she would defend her country at all costs. She was loyal, much more loyal than before, now was the time to prove it.

Ashla pushed herself off the wall and walked towards the throne room. The air around her was cold, Ashla felt that it was probably due to the horrific events taking place everywhere else. The round, arcing ceiling reflected Ashla’s image everywhere as if it were a dark mirror. She came up to the door, she opened it, she entered.

Ashla joins the Throne Room.

[Amber Eyes]

Kyla stepped through the doorway and into an elegant hallway. It was near twice her height and the walls were made of reflective black metal. On each side she could see her figure staring back at her, it's head cocked to the side in confusion. The echoes had come from here, the girl was sure of it. And yet, she was alone. A candelabra marked each yard of empty room and the lights shone against the dark walls.

Her mind raced with all the goings-on. Somewhere troops were locked in combat, led by Ozoric himself. Elsewhere her men stood toe to toe with members of the Cult of Blessed Torture and Misery Business. They risked their lives for the sake of the innocent. They held their heads high knowing they stood for all that was good and just.

Or is it all so that you can prove yourself worthy of following in Sei's footsteps? A voice inside her head taunted her.

No, she couldn't think like that now, too much had already transpired. Her goals here were just. At least in part, Kyla shook her head.

The girl stepped forward, careful to make no sound. Her heart beat loudly and seemed to grow louder as she closed her eyes and tried to focus on the world around her. Nothing good could come of being alone in a castle.

The girl's throat seemed to protest her movement and she forced a cough to clear it.

thump. thump. thump. Each beat of her heart marked a step forward. thump. thump.

Suddenly the hall echoed with the sound of splintering glass, loud enough to send shivers up the Mystic's spine. A wave of familiar laughter hit her ears and Kyla was off. Her feet hit the marble floor hard as she raced toward the end of the hall, sure now that something was terribly wrong. How could the opposition have made it here first?


Kyla enters the Throne Room

[Lady]

She screamed, and he groaned. He climaxed, and she faked it. Then, he gasped, and she smiled.

The royal guardsman's baby blue eyes grew wide. He arched his back, and the rosy color of his skin grew increasingly pale. Those bright, beautiful eyes rolled up and to the back of his skull. His muscles gave out, and an arm scarred with years of servitude to the Icebreaker family fell limp to the bedside.

"Done already?" the soft voice of the petite frame atop him cooed, "I was just getting into it..."

She pouted, then sighed.

"Oh well, you made for a delicious treat!" she exclaimed with a flick of her succubus tail. Her dissatisfied pout turned to a smile as she ran a slender finger from his cold lips, over the peaks of his muscular pectorals, and rolling hills of his abdomen. Lady, as she had been known for the entirety of her miserable life, lifted herself from her prey. Once she was rid of him, the succubus vaulted over the plush linens of the bed and placed her bare feet on the icy stone flooring. A prickle of goosebumps shot from her heels, up her back, to the tip of her tail, and stopped at the base of her neck. The chill caused her nude figure to quake ever so slightly. As though walked in upon, both her dainty arms crossed her glistening chest.

"How do you people live like this?!" she exclaimed, looking to the gaping mouth of the deceased lying on the bed. She paused as though waiting for an answer. "I don't care if you've lived here your whole life, it's just too cold!"

She turned to face her most recent feast, absent of life and soul. Again, a pause.

"Tch, you put on clothes! I do what I damn well want!" she argued as she jut her pierced tongue to the corpse. Immediately afterward, she spun on her heels and pointed her head to the rafters like a princess appalled with a gift from her father.

It was a regular lover's quarrel.

"Tell me to put on clothes..." she muttered to the eerie silence. Her bare feet padded to the ornately framed mirror to look upon herself. With arms that hugged the warmth to her breasts, she twisted to and fro to examine her form.
The succubus noted her small chest, frail arms, average rump, and long legs. All of which caused her to twist her face to dissatisfaction.

"Hmph, you were so quick to remove them you lecher. Not even five minutes and you had to cart me off..." she scoffed. "Fine Ferdinand, I'll put on some clothes. I liked what that hand maiden wore at the feast, I'll just put that on."

Her yellow eyes narrowed as she scrunched her face in glee. Lady lifted her arm and snapped two small fingers. A thick wisp of smoke appeared from her hand and grew. It began to swarm around her like bees at a hive. She lifted to her toes and a pair of black heels materialized from the haze. She examined her bare legs as black stockings tinted her already dark skin. Lady outstretched her arms and watched the mirror as a simple, yet elegant gown formed from smoke, then took to the shape of fabric and hugged her form. The long, navy skirt fell loosely to her ankles. Her hands covered themselves in white gloves and her ruffled, lavender hair magically formed itself into braids topped with a bun. As a mark of its completion, the smoke dissipated in a waft of air.

"How cute!" Lady commented as she swirled the gloved finger around her spiraling horns. "What do you think?"

She turned with a hop to the guard. His gaping mouth gave silent affirmation.

"I'm glad you like it! But this tail has got to go. Horns, too."

As though they were figments of the imagination, both succubus assets melted away into nothingness. She spun around, contented with the image. Then, she jumped at the starting sound of creaking doors. She snapped her exotic eyes to the oaken door leading to the grand hallway of the castle. The small door could not have made such a baritone growl. She gulped.

"Oh shoot, what am I going to do with you?!" Lady nervously spoke towards the deceased. "Um.. Uhh..."

She panicked.

"Oh, forget it! Casualty of war, just like the Demon wars! Zack said there would be attackers!" she spoke aloud with the clack of heels as she paced. She needed to leave the scene, and quick. She looked to her reflection, then noted her dark skin and yellow eyes. "That won't do."

The eyes became icy blue, hair became a blackish brown, and facial features grew younger - a gift of illusions through the demonic blood in her veins.

"Just like that picture of the royal family," she remarked to the likeness of Alshla Icebreaker in the mirror.

She nodded, then clicked her way to the door. Leaving behind the talkative guest she fed from, Lady exited the room quietly as if to avoid disturbing Ferdinand's slumber. As she slowly shut the door, another massive moan of oak sounded. Lady observed the source, and a stranger she had never seen quickly faded into the throne room with a loud slam behind her. Lady let loose a sigh of relief.

Lady enters the Grand Hall.

Also, please keep in mind that Lady always has the ability Sweet Scent (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?26719) active. Please read this in my profile before posting against her. It strongly affects PC interactions. Thank you! :)

[Philomel]

They entered as one, two lovers brought together in the horrors of war.

One in the form of a fox, only a foot high but looking as fearsome as a sabre-toothed tiger, and the other shrouded in a rough cloak, her back hunched, they came step by precise step. Philomel kept her eyes down, trying to keep up the visage of being a poorly old human woman up, somehow lost.

Yes, perhaps the whole image was ruined by the fact she had a pacing earth-spirit by her side, but that was far beyond the point. Veridian was there because he could not have bared to stay behind without her. And she could not have bared to face the possibility of death without him. They were born to be together, that was what each felt; their fates intertwined to the other like complexly knotted pieces of string.

Knotted, like her fate in this day.

Philomel stopped. Veridian stopped beside her, eyes flickering around. They saw firstly the man they had been following, standing or walking several feet away. And beyond that they saw a grand door leading to what seemed like the Throne Room. From that room smoke and loud noises were spiralling, like chaos and hell had made its home. The faun-whore winced slightly, but hunched herself over more.

The two of them stared, trying to make a decision between missing the fighting ... and facing possible death. It seemed an awkward choice, almost an impossible one. Glory or blood? Staying safe, or likely pain? Waiting, or charging in now? It was complicated, the decision, precisely balanced on reasons of keeping up this disguise, and cowardice. Or not cowardice, something more than that - fear. Anxiety. Apprehension. Worry. Horror. Blood, thick blood, a pool so deep you could swim in it.

Yet, before anything they saw a third issue come, a third happening. There was a woman, dressed in black standing at the other end of the room. ear the Throne Room. Her hair was black-brown, her features fair - she looked like a princess, or perhaps a young goddess. She seemed amused, or at the very least bemused, as if uncertain what to make of this entire situation. Curiously, though, it looked as if she had just come from a place to the back of the Hallway, a room off from it, something Philomel did not know that even existed. Was it that she was an enemy, one of the nobles? If so she was an easy picking, an irrestible target.

Philomel smiled, maliciously. Then, she hid that smile and began to stagger onwards. As if mentally linked to her Veridian ducked behind her, hiding in the shadows of her cloak, so that anyone who saw them approach would only see an old beggar woman - not a fox in tow.


Philomel is now in the Grand Hallway. She ran in, is still clothed in a hood and cloak, and huddled over like she is an old woman. She has seen Lady, and is heading towards her.

[Echo_Naruga]

" What the hell?!?" Echo yells as he is teleported into the hallway outside the throne room. He breaths in deep and begins coughing loudly realizing he had been breathing in the smoke from the throne room a wile. Echo leans on the wall he had ported near, and notices he had just been put on the outside of the door. His last thoughts were of the iron skinned warrior and a mysterious about to end his life. And suddenly Zack Blaze Jumping over to him and say that they were even now. Not sure what that meant Echo relived the past few minuets in his head, nothing he did was out of the ordinary. Echo had just fought along side his ally. Was there a special reason for his kindness or did he want the glory to himself.

Whatever the reason it was he was here and had a chance to catch his breath. Trying to clear his lungs completely of smoke he lets out a number of violent coughs all the wile examining the room. All the commotion from behind the door must have scarred out all the residents of the castle as only a few people were hanging around. A few he recognized as members of the MizBiz/Order army. Echo stands up off the wall, pats his side only to realizes that he had left his blade in the throne room. "Shit"

A wave of panic over comes him as he thinks back to the four enemies in the next room, only to pass when he acknowledges that there were too allies only feet from him.

" In the throne room! Zack is under attack by multiple enemies!" Echo says as he pants and tries to devise a plan. "Zack has set the throne room ablaze." hoping his allies heard him. Echo turns to face the door feeling better as he can breath clearly now.

"How do I get back in there?" Echo ponder his possibilities.

With one hand he motions for his allies to join him at the door when they are ready. "He is going to need everyone's help." he thinks as he begins to worry about Zack having to face down four at once. He has yet to see anyone skilled enough to do such a thing, but Zack has shown himself very resourceful.

[Max Dirks]

Dirks enters the Grand Hallway after breaking through the door connecting it to the Entryway
Dirks stumbled, but did not fall as he crashed through the Grand Hall’s southern door. He did not see the arrow that was shot at him by his pursuer fly harmlessly over him and into a stationary suit of armor. He did not hear the clank it made, either. After Dirks regained his balance, he immediately pointed his weapon at the cloaked woman in front of him. That’s when it hit him. It was a foul smell, comparable to the strong perfume a middle aged Radasanthian woman would use to mask her flatulence in the bazaar. Was it coming from the wench?

The criminal cringed, but advanced. He was about to pull the trigger when he noticed a small fox and goat hoofs peeking out from under the cloak. “Christ, is that you?” he asked, finally announcing his presence to the faun, Philomel. He lifted his hood and held the barrel of the gun to the ceiling in case she did not recognize his voice and turned to attack.

“Ah, forget it,” Dirks said, passing to her left. “There’s someone coming from behind us. I’m unsure if he’s friend or foe.” Before she could reply, a man appeared out of nowhere. Once more, Dirks gun was aimed and he ready to fire. The newcomer must have recognized someone in the room, as he quickly explained his current predicament. He spoke of allegiance to Zack Blaze, the leader of Misery Business, and “partner” in the Eiskalt affair. There was genuine urgency and panic in the man’s voice, leading Dirks to believe the man’s story was true. This man was a friendly.

Dirks hesitated for a moment, but eventually lowered his gun and continued his march down the hallway. “Wait!” he called out. “I’ll help Blaze. You two find out who’s behind me then fortify this area.” Dirks spoke with authority. His presence in the castle would seem more natural if he actually acted like the commander of the Order’s ground forces. The more Order operatives he could keep out of the throne room, the better. Combined with Zack’s blaze, Dirks might also be able to secretly rescue Kyla without Lye and the others discovering he committed treason.

“Here,” he said, reaching into his pocket. Dirks pulled out two small bullets, the last of his explosive rounds, and tossed them at Echo. “These bullets contain high powered explosives. Plant them on the door frame up there. If anyone - and I mean anyone - comes through there heat these up and blow them to hell. Don’t worry about me and Blaze. We won’t be coming back that way.”

After he passed Echo, he finally saw the young woman peering into what Dirks assumed was the throne room. He cussed, realizing this girl might have learned his plan. He raised his gun a third time. “You there,” he called out. “The castle has been breached. You need to go run and hide.” As he approached, the awful smell from before became stronger. Dirks grit his teeth and tightened his finger around the trigger.

This will be my final post in the Grand Hall for now. Lady may bunny our interaction. Upon Lady's post, Dirks will enter the Throne Room

[Philomel]

Insanely, the faun-whore leapt when she heard the voice. She had heard nothing approaching from behind her, sensed no presence. But then - her attention had been focused entirely onwards, forwards, into the fray of the blood and cries of agony.

"Christ, is that you?"

Veridian let out a sharp, startled bark; Philomel just jumped. Defensively she turned, tensing immediately with the suddenness of the sound, her hold around the hilt of her sword, The Bastard, tightening. As she did so the muscles in her arm contracted, instinctively, drawing out the blade from the leather sheath, sending a high ringing around the room, like the echoes of hail upon metal armour.

Vehemently she stared at her interrupter, then immediately relaxed. Her arm holding The Bastard fell, dropping the tip to the ground as she stepped back slightly, inclining her head, majorly out of respect. He was the man she knew as having the title "Dirks", a businessman in some respects, connected to the Order in ways she could not fathom, but nevertheless the equivolent to her Commander in this battle. She watched avidly as he ignored her for the most part and strode forwards. Just as he did so another man appeared, this time one she did not recognise.

The fox behind her tilted his head, let out a small, distinct nicker. Philomel sighed.

"Indeed, you are right, my love," she murmured, raising her spare hand. Working on the laces that held the cloak closed about her neck first, Philomel threw off the cloak with a fluid movement. She shook out her hair, throwing away the thin leather bands that had loosely bound it, and let the dreadlocks settle freely around her shoulders. Positioning her sword rightly she raised her left hoof, then the right; upon each raising she hooked the tip of the blade around the cloth that bound them and cut it clean away. The hemp fell to the ground, and the faun danced.

Clatter, clatter, her hooves clattered on the stone ground, her natural beat.

Swiftly she brushed off what dust lay on her shoulder guard, checked the leather holding it in place. Dirks, the man, called out, calling attention once more.

Philomel glanced up, rolling back her shoulders, glad now to be free of that restrictive huddled stance. Her belly moved with her, the ash tree tattoo that curled around her navel hidden just for today beneath a leather bodice designed for minor, if not any, protection.

"You two find out who's behind me," he commanded.

The faun-whore frowned a little, now looking up to the girl again. She seemed curious, sorrowful almost, and had a vague scent of something alluring coming off from her. It was similar to the scents Philomel had around her almost every day - the longing of sex, the stence of cum, the disguting aroma of men's sweat. For a moment she was distracted, feeling a powerful urge to go and seek what this woman was ... well smelling of but her common sense grounded her again.

No matter if I want the scent, she growled at herself, forcing herself to turn around, I have my orders.

She shook herself, her whole body, gritting her teeth and motioned for Veridian to join her. Rather bemused by the recent events her earth-spirit companion twisted to patter back towards the Entranceway door, Philomel now the one following.


Phi is still in the Grand Hallway, waiting to see if Black Shadow comes also. Lady, I hope what I said fits kind of with Sweet Scent.

[Lady]

Thanks for catering to me. Looks like I may have to reword some things in my next profile update, but I appreciate working with me.

The reflective, onyx metal that covered the walls shook in protest to the happenings beyond two large doors. A grey haze rolled from beneath their massive, ornate structure. The faint stink of burnt wood carried throughout the hall. Lady felt uneasy. She was unfit for combat and by the sounds that echoed through the halls, that room was a battlefield. Her petite frame, now a clone of the girl in the royal murals, wandered into the opening of the Icebreaker's Grand Hall. Her eyes darted from the source of the racket to yet another pair of doors. She took a deep breath, and stepped towards the more quiet of the two.

“Oh dear God!” she exclaimed as she suddenly found herself face to face with another. She clattered backwards and nearly rolled an ankle as her heel found a crack in the titles. The succubus barley caught herself against the wall, and knocked a painting off kilter. Lady found her breath and looked upon the stealthy newcomer.

With frame hunched, face hidden by shadow, and steps soft as feet upon the grass, Lady assumed the stranger w to be an assassin. Unable to make out the features and determine friend or foe, the young succubus attempted to put distance between the two.

“W-who are you?!” Lady asked with a nervous quiver in her voice. The fact she chose to wear the face of a royal to wear did not bode well. In an intent to throw off the enemy, it looked as if this plan were to backfire. The mystery character continued to advance. Lady’s heartbeat continued to quicken. She glanced for the door behind her, then to the stranger, back to the door, and swallowed hard.

The young succubus broke in a sprint to flee.

This time, a pair of men materialized out of thin air with a waft of thick smoke in tow. They just so happened to plant themselves in her path. Running in these elegant shoes proved difficult enough, but stopping mid sprint was beyond her competency with such equipment. Thusly, she quickly found herself on her ass.

“And who the hell are you two?!” Lady shouted with a wince of pain evident in her stolen features.

Icy blue irises feel upon the likeness of a Akashiman warrior, Echo Naruga. The other was Zack Blaze. Blond and battered, Zack vanished in the same manner he arrived. The madness had been brought to her. Lady felt anxiety wash over her. Some mottled words escaped Echo's lips about Zack Blaze. Lady perked up at the name, and attempted to rise.

“I-I can try to help,” she stammered.

“But really, what can I do?!” she thought. The easy life of seducing the opposition in favor of brute force drifted away from her. This was now a place for blood and blades. Espionage was no longer an option.

The frail demoness looked to the doors to which Echo gestured. The thick smoke pooling from beneath deterred her immediately, but he still made her way over. Her thin fingers gripped the iron handle.

“Hot!” Lady shouted with a jerk of her hand. While tendrils of pain shot up her arm, the door managed to give way slightly. Through the crack, the glow of fiery blaze and echoes of fierce combat leaked through. Lady began to panic.

“I can’t,” she muttered. “Not again.”

The images of the Demon War flashed through her mind. Fires of Hadia, her past prison, and roars of the demon horde fighting for their turn at her ripped at Lady's reality. The sound of steel on steel called forth the phantom pain of shackles binding her wrist and ankles. Her mind fragmented. She stepped back from the opening, muttering nonsense. The girl gripped her blistered hand and stumbled backwards. A voice, muffled by the altered state she drifted in, called out to her. She turned. Terror filled her lithe form. Yet another man appeared and this time, Lady found herself staring down the barrel of a forty five (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sz4ipOHyMd8).

“No,” Lady cried. The likeness of Ashla Icebreaker faded from her features. “Please, no.”

She crumpled to the ground. Her hands clambered her away from Dirks. His strict and relentless gaze burned into Lady’s mind. Her retreat halted at the base of an arrow pierced suit of armor.

“Tch, I don’t have time for this,” Dirks scoffed. He turned to the throne room, took a deep breath, and slammed through with trigger fingers taught.

Lady felt relief, but panic and hysteria still threatened to tear her asunder. With a tremor in her hands she managed to produce a small vial from the bosom of her leather corset. The glass rattled against her sharp claws and the battle with the cork could not end soon enough. Once open, Lady lifted it to her nose, and inhaled a some of the verdant powder within. The vial slipped from her hands and shattered to the cold tile. Her hyperventilating slowed, her tremors weakened, and she began to calm. Visions of her haunting past lulled and soon became lost within a smoke similar to what poured around her. Her orange eyes shot around, she gained her bearings, then braced herself against the armor to rise.

“I-“ Lady began, but stopped with a tremor. “I can help.”

Though she gripped the full plate display, it nearly seemed as though the lifeless knight aided the succubus girl as she rose. Lady looked to Echo, and the now revealed Philomel.

“I can help,” she reiterated.


Dirks has entered the Throne Room.

Lady has freaked out, collected herself, and is willing to assist.

[Zack Blaze]

Zack's good, left eye wide as he heard the glass break. With the sound came memories of being impaled by the trademark spell of the Mystic race; Mystic Protection. He knew that within mere seconds, a sea of glass would burst forth from the room and directly towards him. Zack had fallen once to the sharp sting of the Mystic Protection, and, ironically enough, it was at the hands of Kyla Orlouge then as well. He grit his teeth and felt the blood well up in his mouth. He spat the crimson to the ornate floor and reached for whatever was closest to his form. He would not become another tally on Kyla Orlouge's list of victims yet again.

He closed his eye as he heard the glass whistle by his form. Whatever he had managed to grabbed happened to cushion his figure quite well. It was not until he heard the moan that Zack realized he had grabbed a person. He opened his eye once more as he through the body to the ground and took notice at how its back still moved up and down. Whoever this person was, they were still breathing, and they were somebody that the street fighter did not recognize. He spit more blood onto the ground as he backed away, his instincts screaming at him to run. He turned around, a fear of Kyla Orlouge, Max Dirks, and Talen Shadowalkers combined wrath providing more than enough motivation for the boy to high-tail it out of the room.

"No..." Zack whispered as a trail of crimson slithered out of the corner of his lip, "Not without making sure...."

Zack turned around and uppercut the air several times in a row. Five fin like blazes of fire roared through the hallway and back into the throne room. Though the place was mostly metal, Zack had faith that anybody who wanted to escape would have to run into immolation if they retreated. "That oughta do it..."

He turned back to the exit and took a step, only to realize his legs throbbed with the pain of one thousand squats. He seethed in pain as he took another step, and slowly made his way out of Eiskalt Castle. Little did he know that Zack happened to grab a person very close to Ashla Icebreaker, a person that Kyla Orlouge injured severely with her recklessness. In the floor of the Grand Hallway laid the warrior known as Black Shadow...

((Conclusion post from Zack. Permission given from Black Shadow to use his character as a pin cushion))

[Hysteria]

The monstrous form of Talen burst through the door with a shower of wood and stone with him. His form, stretching six and half feet tall released a roar of anger thundering through the hall. Giant arms coated in dark metal tensed and untensed around the hilt of the giant metal maul. The creature's dark eyes didn't have a chance to take in the surrounds, instead seeing the giant arcs of flames racing towards him.

Rage, anger and pain flooded Talen, but his basic instincts on fighting had not abandoned him. The creature charged forwards, leaping towards flames. Just as they were about to strike his form disappeared, to re-materialise half way down the hall. There were other people present, but Talen didn't stop to see them. Instead he charged towards Zack, catching up to the lame street fighter quickly.

With a snarl of anger, the huge black form leaped into the air. His body twisted as he manoeuvred the huge metal weight of the maul with surprising ease. Focused on cleansing the world of Zack Blaze, Talen brought the maul in a large arch towards him. It was not a pretty attack, it was one made to crush Zach and his foolish ambitions. Talen put all his rage into the attack, easily enough force to rend away the streetfighter.

Talen enters the hallway, teleports towards Zack and tried to smash him before he gets away

[Philomel]

Brutal, cold and sharp.

Philomel heard the shattering of the glass, a splintering fall or rise of fortune, depending on how you looked at it. The world literally broke apart, bricks and mortar and glass flying in all directions as the large explosion ripped through the Great Hallway. Her eyes widened, at the first instance of the sound, and hurriedly she threw herself as hard as she could into one of the narrow alcoves.

Her hoof barely scraped into cover as the shards were scattered to the four corners of the room. The stones, like volleyed arrows, clattered themselves into the walls surrounding her, into portraits and the floor, and the windows. They were mercilessly peppered, the canvases shot full of holes, and the resounding booommm of the sound echoed all over.

Closely following, as the dust began to settle, a lithe figure entered into the Hallway. Philomel had her head partly covered in her hands, her sword The Bastard lying somewhere nearby but for the while forgotten. He did something ... magical with a hushed murmur of words, then scurried on his way. By the way his feet moved the faun-whore could tell this was some form of human warrior, perhaps a traveller. By his magic he had skill beyond anything she possessed, yet.

Yet.

Yet ... Veridian poked his nose out, and jittered. Peering around the corner of the alcove he sniffed tentitively a couple of times. Golden eyes peirced the now dimmer room of length and breadth, he paused, before nickering back to his companion.

Archer is dead, he corresponded, Man running.

Philomel perked up slightly, lifting her chin from her crossed arms.

"The Archer?" she questioned. "The... he is dead?"

The fox-spirit did not look around. He remained impassive, eyes out, surveying the new chaos with some sort of intrigued glee. Yet his stance ... he stretched out a paw and took a step into the Hallway purposefully and mightily, like a new god born to conquer.

Philomel fell back against the wall, sighing with relief. The Archer was dead. Dead as a doornail, impaled like a villainous vampire. The same Archer Dirks had told her to watch out for. Though not dead by her own hand but by another's, the relief was still present. Another enemy was down, another enemy less to destroy in this painful war.

Grinning slightly, the faun-whore stretched, reaching for the hilt of her sword. Joy filled her, quite unexpectedly. Something within her told her she had deserved this, for all her skill in disguise. As she began to stand Veridian took another paw length into the realm of destruction - then, WHUMPH,was abruptly slammed into.

Something large, huge, terrifying, thundered across Veridian's path. It was not much taller than herself yet it ran with so much ferocity it kicked at the stones in its path. One flew at the small form of the fox and butted him aside like he was some form of rag-doll. There was hardly any sound, just a soft thump and a light yelp and -

The beast-man-thing, covered seemingly from head to toe in some black, heartless metal, roared straight past. Uncaring, or un-noticing his movements caught the underbelly of the earth-spirit, and sent him crashing into the wall.

Veridian slight form hung in endless motion for a moment - Philomel watching with a pit of absolute horror and despair. Her body was curved like a bow, stuck between fear and screaming, unsure of what to do.

Yet - before long the fox slid down the wall and landed, twisted form, upon a pile of rubble.

Landed, unmoving, his mouth and golden eyes wide open in a soundless mewling.

Her cry was absolute, her emotions outraged. One glimpse at the form of her beloved, and she was livid. Her joy plummetted, sundered in one fell swoop, only to be replaced by intense burning anger.

"I FUCKING HATE THIS!" she screamed.

The Bastard rose up before her as a beacon of justice. Full of ire and deep-rooted loathing her breasts bore out like two fleshy piles of hate. Her mind raged; What is the point of this bloody war, honestly what is the point of this? When all it does is kill and slaughter and...

Knocking one hoof on the ground she barely looked at Veridian for much longer, before throwing herself into the fray. A cry roaring out of her chest the faun whore moved, ran, cantered, and leapt. Her muscles tense and her heart ricocheying off the scale of normality she rushed towards the metallic monolith, ready to slaughter him where he stood.


Hysteria, I hope the slight bunnying is okay. Just give me a message if its not, but I needed a reason for Philomel to get a bit ired up. Yes Talen now has a faun leaping at his back.