Fantasy Hunter's Moon: Ascendancy [IC] [CLOSED]

[Infab]

The cluster of Annen and Wraiths continued quickly down the tunnel amidst the chaos, the Imps providing the perfect distraction for the various guards and other assorted demons that filled the tunnels and rooms of the Living Collections. As they proceeded on, they noticed more and more rooms had been filled to the brim with jewels and other precious objects and items. It was highly likely the central intersection itself was awash with treasure. But that wasn't were they were heading.

A few guards managed to get in their way, but were dispatched promptly. Either by Annen, with her graceful bloodletting, or by one of the Wraiths looking to get a little action in before they reached the tomb of the Seraph. There, they would unleash true terror upon the demons that filled the Living Collections and beyond. Hugging the right side of the tunnel, avoiding a wraith demon that was wildly swinging in an attempt to get a dozen Blood Imps off of him (whom were biting and clawing away without remorse), they eventually reached the necessary tunnel. Leading straight to the room which housed the tomb.

As they entered, they would find that treasures lined the walls here as well. But as they proceeded further down this more narrow tunnel, they found that the gold began to shift in shape. From solid coins and chunks to a more smooth, fluid look. And the air seemed to get thicker. Hotter.

Was the Seraph giving off so much heat that she was literally melting the treasure around her tomb?

Annen's eyes narrowed. This might complicate getting her out of her tomb. The heat could boil the blood she poured into the lock, and render it useless. She'd have to worry about that when they arrived. And after a few minutes of walking cautiously through the winding tunnel, they finally arrived.

The iron box that would be the tomb of the Seraph sat in the middle of a circular cavern room, the stone around it widened to allow for several people to walk around. For the moment, however, the box was surrounded by treasure... which looked nothing like it probably did when they had brought it in. Now, it was all simply a lumpy blob of gold and silver. Some objects jutted from the mass, which hadn't melted due to the extended exposure to the heat coming from the box. And the box itself, made of enchanted iron, was practically glowing a faint orange. The enchantment was holding, it seemed. Mazgith must have also enchanted it so that the metals would allow for the Seraph's heat to pass through without melting it.

The wall of heat was damn near unbearable for Annen, and even the Wraiths. But they had to press on with their work. "Watch the exit. We don't need anyone slipping in." she stated, looking back to the Wraiths. She then turned back about, and moved into the room. Careful to step over the liquefied gold and other precious metals.

As she neared the box, Annen soon heard a voice. "Another visitor? Have you come to simply dump more of your treasures around my sarcophagus?" they said. A female voice. The Seraph.

Annen smirked. "No, mighty Seraph. I'm here to free you." she responded as she neared the door. Pushing her way through the heat pouring from the box.

"...You wish to hasten your death? Is the battle above going so poorly that you wish to end your misery?" responded the Seraph.

Annen chuckled. "No, Seraph. I am with those that are winning the battle. I fight in the name of Lady Tariun, former advisor to the previous Abyssal King. We seek to end Taranoch's reign and return order to the Abyss."

Annen would slice her hand yet again, drawing the dagger from her back once more and dragging the blade across her hand. A moment later, she poured the blood that dripped from her hand into the lock fitted to the door of the box.

The Seraph went quiet for a moment, seemingly pondering what Annen said. "...Do you expect me to assist you in this endeavor? I've no love for the Abyss or its denizens. I slaughtered as many as I could when I was first cast down here."

Annen focused, pointing a finger at the lock as she tried to manipulate her blood through its inner workings. With little effect. "No, we don't expect you to do it as a kindness. We expect you to do it because your lord Raziel requests it of you."

"Raziel? The very archangel that sent me here? He, who denied me the chance to swiftly put an end to Taranoch?"

"Yes, Raziel. His wish is for you to remain here for the moment, to assist us in retaking the Abyss from Taranoch, the Icons, and their minions. In exchange... you may finally come home once it is done."

"...Home?"

"Yes. Home. Now, if you intend to do as he asks...I need you to take five steps back to the rear of the box and calm down. The heat you're giving off is preventing me from unlocking this door."

There wasn't any movement for a moment, silence filling the room, but a minute later they could hear footsteps coming from inside the large iron box. And soon, they felt the heat radiating from the box begin to receed. Apparently the heat was manifested by the Seraph's sheer rage, aimed at her captors.

"...Do you have proof, demon? Your words may yet be as honeyed as all the other liars of your kind." they soon heard the Seraph say.

"I do." was Annen's response. "And I shall give it to you once you are free from your cage. You likely feel the auras of Wraiths in here with me, as well. They are also allies. Do not harm them, please."

Eventually, the group heard a click. The lock had been picked. Annen fumbled with the chains and now-unlocked lock, unraveling it from the door's numerous loops and its two main handles. And once they were fully removed, she tossed them aside and quickly stepped back.

"You are free, Seraph." she said simply, before dropping some more blood onto the ground next to her. She then pointed a hand down to it, forcing the droplets to form a wide pool.

As Annen worked her magic, they heard footsteps. From the back of the box to the front. And then, the door was pushed open. Flickering light shown forth, as if a torch was being held inside the box. But they would soon find that it wasn't a torch burning.

It was the Seraph's head.

Her blonde hair was like a golden fire, the strands and locks waving to and fro. She gave off a natural light, pure and heavenly. A near blinding halo was affixed in a perfect position just behind her head instead of above it. On her back, a pair of four wings with pure white feathers. Her skin was tanned, a few shades lighter than bronze, and piercing blue eyes darted between Annen and the Wraiths as they watched her emerge.

And they soon noticed she was practically naked. Keggoth must have had her stripped before tossing her in the box. She was surprisingly more muscular than most angels that Annen had seen or heard of.

"One moment." said Annen, holding up a finger as the Seraph approached her. The heat in the room seemed to rise a few degrees, but hopefully that was simply because she was now out of the box and not her getting angrier.

Eventually, a white and gold chest rose from the pool of blood. The Seraph stopped, watching the chest as it appeared from the pool's red depths. And once it had fully manifested, Annen stepped away from it. Allowing her to examine it.

"Raziel sends this as a gift. New clothes, armor, and your weapons. There's also a note inside, but it's in an old variant of Angelic. Even I can't read it."

"Good. You shouldn't." responded the Seraph, as she walked over and knelt next to the chest. She soon opened it, inspecting its contents carefully before taking the note from inside that had been tucked into a pocket in the underside of the lid.

She unfolded it, soon reading it briefly. And she surprisingly smiled. "Thank you, Lord Raziel." she whispered softly, before soon taking the clothes from the chest and slipping them on. A few minutes later, she was ready. Her silver and gold armor gleamed in the light from her halo and firey hair, and a longsword was gripped tightly in her hand. A heavenly blade, the weapon almost gave off a glow of its own.

"Thank you. What are your names?" asked the Seraph, as she looked up to Annen and the Wraiths.

"I am Annen." responded the blood demon, before motioning to the Wraiths. Each introduced themselves as well.

The Seraph nodded, before motioning her free hand to herself. "I am Sariel. Daughter of Hasriel. Seventh Seraph of Heaven. I am Heaven's divine fury made manifest."

"Pleasure to meet you, Sariel. Now that the pleasantries are dealt with, I have orders for you from my leaders." said Annen, before pointing towards the tunnel they just came through to get to the box. "There is quite a veritable army of demons just outside this tunnel. They have fortified their positions inside this area, known as the Living Collections. You may kill them all, as none of them are aligned with us. They serve Keggoth, and by extension Taranoch. Once they are dead, we need you to head up towards the surface and venture to the tall tower on the eastern side of the city. That's the Hoarding Tower, where Keggoth used to keep all her things. There are two demons there known as Mariette and Neroph. They are allies. Assist them however they need you to."

The Seraph cocked a brow inquisitively at the name Mariette, but soon nodded as Annen finished. "Understood. I shall work quickly then." she soon responded. A moment later, she began her march. Past the group and down through the tunnel they had entered through.

And a moment later, they heard cries of sheer terror from the demons in the main tunnel. The Seraph had been unleashed upon them. They would soon hear her shout in a loud, powerful voice.

"YOUR DARKEST FEAR STANDS BEFORE YOU, AND YOU CHOOSE TO FLEE IN TERROR INSTEAD OF RISING TO MEET IT IN GLORIOUS COMBAT? THAT WOULD HAVE GIVEN YOUR DAMNED, WORTHLESS LIVES SOME MEANING. NOW, ALL YOU WILL GET IS A CRUEL, BRUTAL DEATH!"

And not long after, the Seraph's slaughter began. Annen and the Wraiths quickly moved through the tunnel back towards the main one, as the cries of fear and pain rang out. As they emerged, they bore witness to the Seraph tearing a demon's spine out with her bare hands. Blood had already spilled over most of the dirt floor before them, massive red splotches as they surrounded the mangled and broken corpses of several greed demons. Oddly, there were no signs of Annen's blood imps.

"Ah, you have a spine. With the way you ran, I thought otherwise." she muttered, holding the bloody spinal column in hand as she gazed down at the greed demon's corpse at her feet. She simply tossed it down atop his body afterwards, before looking towards the central intersection ahead.

"I count three dozen greed demons, thirteen palace guards, ten wrath demons of large stature, and some sort of massive demon... it bears the aura of Wrath, but is far larger than the others. By several feet." soon muttered the Seraph, before glancing over to Annen. "Blood demon, can you tell what it is? My years of being trapped in that iron cage have dulled my senses a bit. A problem easily rectified, but still."

Annen glanced to where Sariel had been looking, before nodding. "'tis an Archdemon. A fairly new creation of Mazgith, meant to serve as a sort of heavy hitting demon to place among their rank and file troops." she explained, before waving a hand to the side. "We can help by carving up the greed demons, if you wish to focus on the palace guards and the big ones."

"Fine with me." said Sariel, as she soon started to move towards the intersection. Annen glanced to the Wraiths, before grinning. "Told you there would be lots of blood."


The dark tunnels beneath the tower seemed to still be intact, even after the years of weathering. Cassandra carefully made her way through the tunnel before her, continuing down deeper and deeper into the dark depths of the tower's sublevels. All the while, she continued singing. Luring the dark specter that used to be Rayne Devonshire to her.

She honestly wondered how their meeting would go once she arrived. Years had passed since they last spoke. Years in which her specter was trapped here, wandering in search of her killer. Or someone else. Cassandra knew who had killed her already: Mariette, by sabotage. She had set off Rayne's trap while she was in it, in order to eliminate her and the trap so they could rescue Rosanna.

But Rayne didn't know that. She likely blamed Cassandra for everything. Which was fine. Cassandra was to blame for a lot of things.

Eventually, Cassandra came to a stop. A dead end lay ahead, but a doorway to the left lead into what appeared to be a large storage room. There were broken, rotted crates and barrels inside, and some destroyed furniture. She could duck inside, and loop around the specter when it came in.

She darted inside, sneaking about in the dark corners of the room, untill she soon saw something move in the doorway. The faint shimmering form of Rayne Devonshire. Tinted a pale white, eyes blank and featureless, the dead necromancer looked dead at Cassandra as she moved about.

"...There you are, you pureblood whore." breathed the specter, its voice as smooth as smoke on the wind. "Why did you return here? To mock me? To laugh at my now pitiful existence? You're the very reason I'm stuck here, in this form."

Cassandra smiled. "Rayne! You still look as lovely as ever!" she said. Keep her occupied, Cass. Till they destroy the grimoire. "What's it like, being... you know, actually dead?"

Rayne's spectral form seemed to vibrate, shimmiering for a moment as her face twisted into an expression of anger. "Funny. Really funny. I can show you, you know?" responded the specter. "You're long overdue for the true death anyway. Allow me to provide it for you. After all, you're the one that provided it for me."

Cassandra chuckled. "No thanks. I've had my fill of it. Besides, I've other things to tend to." she responded.

Rayne then said something that caught her off guard. "Like your two friends that you came in with? I know they're going after the grimoire. Did you really think I needed it while I'm trapped in this form?" breathed the specter. Cassandra's smile quickly faded, as Rayne continued. "Even in this form, I'm still powerful. I can still raise the dead. I can still cast powerful dark spells."

The specter then pointed a hand towards Cassandra. "I can still do this." she breathed finally, before a bolt of something errupted from her shimmering fingertips. It darted across the room, barely visible to the eye, and collided hard with Cassandra's chest. The pureblood was sent sailing across the room, colliding with the stone wall and landing hard on her side.

What the hell was that!?

Elsewhere, Royland and Xiaòzhou continued down what tunnels they assumed would lead them to the grimoire. And they were making progress, growing ever closer to it with each turn. But suddenly, they would find themselves stopped.

A mass of zombies and skeletons soon blocked their path, packing the room containing the grimoire to the brim. The groans and creaking bones shifted, seeming to look in their direction. And soon, the group began to move towards them.


The roof of the library was indeed quite spacious, with the trio being allowed onto it after the librarian opened the door for them. Rebecca looked about, before eventually nodding and looking back.

"Ma'am, do you happen to have a metal sheet of some sort? Perhaps a baking sheet, or a simple metal roof tile? Anything of that nature?" the Saint asked.

The librarian gave her an odd look, which forced Rebecca to chuckle and elaborate. "This book will be struck by divine magics. I do not wish to set your roof on fire, so I need something to set the grimoire on." she said. The librarian soon nodded, before disappearing back downstairs.

While she was gone, Rebecca looked to Rajko. "How versed are you in the prayers of Saint Marcus? I believe you know a few at least, thanks to your inquisitor training." she asked, before strolling over to the most open spot she could find on the roof. Away from anything potentially flammable.

 

[Worthlessplebian]

The spacious roof did not serve to calm Rajko's nerves, it might have done the opposite. Too exposed, no cover, and the wind is colder by a degree or two. Still until a trap is sprung or disturbance grows too great, Rajko will have to go along with this. But he questions if this paranoid feeling is his alone or the will of the tome? Can a tome even possess a will, Rajko wonders.

Rebecca's gaze turns to him, he stands at full attention. Upon the Saint's request, Rajko nodded. "Well enough to serve this, if I follow your line of reasoning as to what we're doing." Rajko followed Rebecca to the spot where the tome will be undone. Whilst waiting, the inquisitor repeated the prayers under his breath. Confidence is grand, but certainty is no fool's folly.

 

[Dmaster]

Camille took up a position near the edge of the library's rooftop, overlooking the town as she found herself drawing a deep breath. Though she was not in that stuffy building for long, the open night air and the slightly higher altitude came as a relief to her all the same. Passively listening to the exchange taking place between the trio behind her, she placed a hand on her hip as she looked upon Tresomin from this vantage.

Camille's lengthy shawl of dark plumage gently blew about the wind while found herself reminiscing to a time she was looking down on her home city in a similar fashion. She could only hope the war hadn't reduced it to rubble like it did to her estate. The huntress saw no issue in turning her back at the moment, and was prepared for what was certain to be a grand spectacle of holy power. However, she was not really taking an interest in the accursed tome unless it or one of its minions leapt up and tried to stab her suddenly.

 

[Breadman]

When the wraiths entered the final room, they could feel the fear finally make its way through their bodies. Eventually they would see what was invoking the primal fear in them. Even behind bars the Seraph's words filled them with a sense of dread. Each of her words loaded with venom and hatred for their kind. Somehow Annen convinced her to spare their lives and to help them. She had come prepared and the group would be thankful as it meant that they had no reason to worry. For now.

The Seraph left her cage and looked towards them. There was an unease as Annen presented her with a golden box that contained something very dear to the fallen angel.

"Thank you. What are your names?

I am Annen.

"Lozon of the Hanging forest, my lady." The old patriarch bowed his head. Some show of respect was needed.
"Connor" The large man was uncharacteristically timid. Looks like he had some sense in him still.
"Boris, angele." The bear growled softly.
"Eh...Constantine, your...radiance?"
"Tiloc." The blood priestess bend in a bow towards the seraph.

After they introduced themselves it was time to step aside as the angel of death would get to work. They heard the cries from down the halls they came from. As they walked back, they were relieved as they were not objects of her wrath and would be spared. The sight of the corpse pile didn't shock any of them. The casual attitude the angel had with her brutality did. They had never imagined that any servant of the heavens would act like that. A brief conversation between her and their commander established the plan going forward. She would go and decimate the legions still holding the city and they would wipe out whatever is crawling around trying to escape. Not exactly a glorious duty, but they're not the rebellion's fist.

Told you there would be lots of blood.

"I don't think anyone doubted that, lady." Constantine answered, now relaxed in his tone. He made note of the grin Annen gave them and looked to his right. Sure enough their blood priestess was making a similar grin. "Well, you heard her. A killing we go." He said as he walked forward.

"Oh, Vulture...why so happy all of a sudden?" He didn't stop to answer her. Instead he walked over to the now spineless greed demon and kneeled down. After some inspection he grabbed spine, making sure it was still attacked to the head. Any needed motivations were done with his boot knife as he cleaned out the unneeded bits from the bones. "Are you taking a trophy?" Tiloc crossed her arms as she looked at him. He was acting completely out of character. The grin on his face was...unnerving.

"I'm more than happy." He held the head up and with a gloved finger he pointed to it "She just wasted this ugly sumbitch. Bastard is responsible for 200 shades in the Abyss and I'm gonna take his head back to camp to cash it in." He looked to Boris and Connor "You have your treasures and what not." He waved them off as he saw them look to the treasures a bit too interested than they should. "Me? I'm having a feast!"

"Right then." Lozon chuckled "Lets see who else is on our bounty list."
---
Under the tower, Royland rushed to the grimoire. He felt the cursed tome nearer and nearer with every step he took. Xiaòzhou was near him and would provide any help he could of course. The knight hoped he wouldn't need it, but the necromancer is a crafty creature. Any number of traps could be awaiting them. In the distance he could hear that the singing had stopped and instead Cassandra was having a confrontation with the specter. He'd have to hurry if he hopes to join her in exterminating it.

They made a turn around the corner and stopped. A mass of undead was barring their way and preventing their advance. He glanced back to make sure his companion was still near and then turned his attention to the zombies and skeletons in front of them.

"May the lady grant me strength and to grant you mercy as I have none to spare." He spat out as the chains manifested on his arm with a morningstar attacked as its head. "Stay clear." He swung it over himself as he moved forward to dispatch any undead that get in his path.

 

[Damian0358]

Xiaòzhou followed swiftly behind Royland, feeling the grimoire's twisted aura grow stronger and stronger as they got closer. The hermit was practically floating off the guard to rush towards it, but the two of them would find a nasty surprise at the tail end.

Xiaòzhou considered his options as the undead before them began their approach. He could use fire as he had outside, but he remembered how fire acted differently in closed spaces such as these, and there was also the issue of the skeletons. The oni had already drawn out his staff, so he instead opted to do as he had done earlier - he charged his staff with qi as Royland headed forward with his chains and morningstar.

Watching Royland's swings, he began his offensive in tow.

 

[K0mori]

Valghem backed away from the sacrificial pit. "I cannot undo the kettle's enchantment to keep and hold any powerful essence which is dropped inside it," he explained, knowing full well that Azathor's favored witch could do it without his help. "Knasus created the spell, I was merely meant to trigger the disaster..."

"So be it," Neroph replied, impatiently. "Mariette, I do not want to do this," he implored, even calling the witch by her name, "unless we are certain the moment is right. What if we take on the burden of Trzichnar's essence, only to burn our own souls to ash searching for our enemy? How would we know where to find him?"

Mariette looked up from the pit, and then at the far wall for a moment, squinting, as if trying to make sense of something in the distance. But she wasn't looking at anything in particular- she was feeling it. Feeling him, getting closer with such overwhelming power that it might as well have been the sun dropping from the crown of the sky at midday and embracing the world in fatal, sweltering heat. "I don't believe finding him will be an issue," she observed.

Neroph could sense it as well, and gave a deep sigh. "...Fine. How does this work?"

Downstairs, Knasus walked through the empty chambers of the Hoarding Towers, destroying any living being in his path, like a slow-moving cannonball. He entered the central chamber where the kettle and the remainder of Mariette's mages were standing guard, and with a single wind-up, snapped a punch which cavitated the air in front of him, pulling the mages into the vacuum before ripping them apart with shards of jagged ice. Their flesh, their blood, and their gear became pinned to the walls to decorate the room anew. There was not even enough time for them to scream.

All that remained was for Knasus to fly or scale the side of the kettle and drop his degrading body into its interior, to be fully consumed by the blast that it would create. My name will live forever... etched into the annals of history, he assured himself. All who seek to oppose Taranoch will know the name Knasus, and know that it means obliteration.

At that moment, there was a hiss which became a roaring howl, as if the kettle had begun to falter prematurely. Pain wracked his body as he briefly lost focus on controlling the immense well of power within himself and searched for the cause, quickly sensing the essense of Trzichnar rocketing from the kettle's depth into the underside of the sacrificial pit as if it were erupting from a geyser. Beyond the veil of raw power there were two auras he knew and despised, and with each passing moment they grew in strength and radiance. He screamed in inarticulate rage as he grasped the air and jerked his arms toward himself, causing the tower to be sealed as he originally intended, beyond the means for any aside from himself or an icon to open, trapping Mariette and Neroph inside with him. He would not sacrifice himself for nothing!

Above him, Valghem dashed toward the stairwell, intending to climb upwards, away from the battle which was soon to come. As he passed through the archway onto the landing, Knasus exploded through the floor itself at the far side of the room. Without a word, he sliced his arm through the air, creating a long blade of ice with which to decapitate the two lieutenants, but it passed harmlessly through them instead. Before he could even consciously perceive that he had fallen for an illusion, Neroph was upon him, bashing against the icy blade with his sword in a flurry of lightning-quick aggression.

However, Neoph was only carrying half of Trzichnar's essence, while Knasus held all of what was once Kyrend, and with a grunt, Knasus simply caught his foe's blade at his first opportunity. Ice instantly sheathed his entire arm, freshly regrown from their previous encounter, and engulfed the blade from the tip down to the hilt.

Just before it could reach, however, Mariette's blade landed in the space in between, glowing with a violet malice and heat which radiated up Neroph's sword from the opposite direction. As the two lieutenants leaned in, the ice receded before the heat, dripping away in glowing droplets which corroded the stone flooring as if they were acid. They were not; the same power which lapped and tore at their souls would simply destroy anything it touched. The trio made eye contact, knowing the peril of their battle as they broke apart from this impasse. Their eyes had become empty black pools.

"Knasus!" Neroph shouted, "you're all alone, now. Your plan has failed, your lieutenants are all dead, your army has crumbled. No one is coming to save you!" The words fell on deaf ears as Knasus threw his arms about, creating pockets in the air that contracted and exploded with ice around Neroph and Mariette, who circled each other, back to back, knocking the shards away with their blades, psychic powers, and waves of hellfire.

"The kettle is damaged," Mariette warned, her voice seemingly coming from behind Kansus' ear. He jerked around swinging at the afterimage, but his fist met nothing but air as the wall beyond exploded from an invisible impact. "It couldn't possibly be refilled with all you wished to use." Again, she seemed to be right behind him, and this time, with a windmill motion, the tips of his fingers caught the paldron on Mariette's shoulder, which exploded into fragments that left gashes in her face. As she slid backwards from the impact, the slice stitched itself closed faster than it would have ever healed otherwise. She ran her thumb over her cheekbone where the wound had been and flashed a toothy grin at her foe. "We can hold this power longer than you can hold yours," she taunted.

Knasus barely turned in time to catch a downward strike from Neroph in the palms of his hands, the invisible, psychic strike slipping through and impacting his face down the middle, leaving a gash that bled a black, smoking ooze instead of blood. Mariette was right; if he did not finish this fight quickly, it would not be either lieutenant who would kill him, it would be Kyrend's essence. And if she were correct about the kettle, there was no longer any hope of destroying the grand army with his sacrifice. He touched his face, feeling as the flesh struggled to mend itself as the black ooze dripped to the floor below, eating away at the stone. An immense sense of futility washed over him.

"Have you nothing to say!?" Neroph barked at him, blasting him with one invisible strike after another, which Knasus deflected with successive walls of ice, like summoned shields. How could he have been so unfortunate as to be abandoned by the leaders he had shown nothing but loyalty to? To be betrayed by Kyrend at the very moment victory was within reach? How had the grand army known when to bring forth Xager and Mazkas when they did, to exploit the perfect opportunities they needed to overrun the city while he was chasing the traitor down?

He glanced up to Mariette, that lowly servant and witch that Sazak had shown so much mercy toward, as she stood on the opposite side of the sacrificial pit. One hand on her sword, and another in the air, fingers tracing arcane gestures. Knasus looked around and quickly spotted embers floating in the air, just in time for Mariette to clench her raised fist and transform them into fiery blades. With a downward thrust of her arm, she pulled the blades in onto Kansus' body, and while he countered clumsily with ice, his timing was poor and he was rendered a pincushion, pierced half a dozen times from as many angles by the glowing, ethereal weapons. For a moment, the fight came to a halt as his arm fell limp to his side and he let out a groan.

"Alors!?" Mariette shouted, echoing Neroph's intensity. There was a hidden reason for their impatience- although they were not being harmed by their borrowed power as quickly as Knasus was, all three would be doomed to death unless they could expel all of the power they carried, and there was little chance of this happening if they stood around talking for much longer. Knasus lifted his head again, hatred filling every ounce of his being as the witch cocked her head at him. Finally, Mariette smiled devilishly and pulled out the bundle of cloth she had been carrying for nearly the entire battle. She unfurled it, grabbing at something gnarled and disgusting inside and holding it up beside her face.

It was Knasus' charred and disfigured arm- the one Neroph had chopped off during their previous encounter outside the wall. Mariette turned it so that the open, lifeless palm was nearly touching her ear, mimicking the same "I can't hear you" gesture Knasus had given her at the outset of the battle.

Knasus practically vanished as the fiery blades were destroyed, reappearing within an arm's reach of Mariette before slamming her into the wall behind her. He pummeled her with all the strength he could muster, blasting holes through her armor and stabbing her multiple times with icy daggers. "I MAY NOT BE ABLE TO DESTROY YOUR ARMY AND END THIS REBELLION, BUT I CAN KILL YOU AND NEROPH BOTH. I WILL BRING THE HOARDING TOWERS DOWN ON TOP OF US. NOT FOR KEGGOTH. NOT FOR TARANOCH. FOR ME! ME! ME!!!"

Outside the towers, the other lieutenants were arriving with Xager, having followed behind Knasus when he departed Keggoth's palace. Sariel had almost single-handedly carved her way across the city all the way from the Living Collections to the Hoarding Towers. There, they could hear the thundering blows as they landed, like muffled explosions, as they searched for a way in, but it was no use. All of the doors had been sealed by powerful magic, the sort that Marette was best suited to overcome. However, that did not prevent the others from trying as Mazgas reluctantly took up position at the door. While she prodded at the arcane seal, the others attempted brute force, only to find that not just the doors, but the entire surface of the towers had become a kind of magical barrier. It would be impossible to break in without toppling the entirety of the towers.

Back inside, Neroph ran Knasus through with his sword, only to be bashed away so effortlessly that he had lost his grip on the weapon, flying through the air bouncing off the solid stone of the opposite wall. Mariette, meanwhile, had taken numerous blows which would have been debilitating otherwise, but thanks to Trzichnar's essence, she was continuing to fight back, clawing at Knasus' face with her gauntlets and further mutilating his skin. Knasus paused, grabbing Neroph's sword as it still protruded from his abdomen, and yanked it free, providing Mariette with an opportunity to cast a more powerful spell.

Putting her hands together, she twisted her wrists before slamming her palms into Knasus' gut and letting loose a concussive blast of hellfire that burned straight through his body and exploded out of his back, the flames stretching and curling in mid-air into the shape of a skull before dispelling against the ceiling. Knasus dropped Neroph's sword, which fell at first before flying back psychokinetically to its owner's outstretched hand. Neroph was already in mid-leap, coming in with another vertical slash which Knasus tried to catch with one hand, only this time, the force of the swing was so great that the icy gauntlet shielding Knasus' hand was shattered by the impact, taking the lieutenant's fingers with it.

Before Neroph could hit Knasus again, the latter jumped back to create some distance. "Mariette, are you okay?" Neroph asked. She nodded, grimly; she could still fight, despite the agony Knasus' beating had left her in.

"I have to break the seal," she said. "We have to warn the others to get away from the tower."

Neroph looked to Knasus, a gruesome, maimed creature dripping with corrosive black essence, and yet sustained by malice alone. He nodded. "I can guard the kettle. Go."

Mariette darted through the opening Knasus had created when he burst through the floor at the outset of the fight, and then raced through the chambers toward the main entrance to the tower. Between the wounds Knasus had given her, the weight of Trzichnar's essence, and the general exhaustion of the day, she felt as if she would lose consciousness even as she flew. At last, she reached it and, staggering to a stop, she placed her hands on its surface and closed her eyes. Every arcane trick and ward she could consider raced through her mind as she felt her way around Knasus' labyrinthian design.

Upstairs, Knasus had set his sights on the sacrificial pit, and slowly shuffled toward it with his decaying body, delayed only moments with each of Neroph's best strikes. "YOU'LL HAVE NOTHING!" he screamed, bashing Knasus backwards with a loud crack as his sword made impact with icy armor on his foe's neck. NO ONE WILL REMEMBER YOU."

"I will have this tower as my tomb," Knasus replied with chilling conviction. The two wrestled with each other all the way to the edge of the sacrificial pit before Knasus gripped onto Neroph and dragged him into the hole. A moment later, they emerged above the kettle's opening, and in the split second chance he was given, Neroph summoned the last of his psychokinetic power to pull both of them sideways so that they would bounce off the rim of the kettle's opening and tumble all the way to the floor of the central chamber.

Then, Mariette opened her eyes.

The doorway opened toward her as her exhausted body fell and crumpled on itself. She had defeated the seal, but now nearly lacked the strength to explain to the others what was happening. The burden of Trzichnar's essence had nearly consumed her when she felt a hand upon her head. There was a strange impact, as if someone had struck her with a pillow, and all at once the overwhelming weight was taken from her shoulders. Xager and Annen helped steady her and keep her from falling over backwards as she looked up in confusion at the angel which had just saved her life.

She blinked a few times, blood trickling down her chin. "B- Bonjour," she said.

---
​

Kirill spoke afterwards. "Yes, we vampires don't have to feed on humans. Though, the ones that do are the ones you hear the most about."

"I have some familiarity with that. Ask the Escarians what they think about Daristinians," he joked without smiling. Zehra's appearance and greeting made him slightly uncomfortable again, despite her smile, but he was reassured when Claire joined the group soon afterwards. He did notice, however, that Claire seemed to dampen Kirill's spirits a bit. Whatever was happening here, Sebastian was certain that he didn't understand the half of it and, having been content in his ignorance until this conversation began, felt keen to avoid asking any more questions for now. "I'm headed back to my room, but please extend a friendly greeting for me to the others once they arrive. You all have quite the fashion sense and taste in firearms," he remarked, heading toward the inn.

 

[Infab]

The battle inside the Living Collections proved to be rather swift and quite violent, with the Seraph leading the assault against the greed and wrath demons that had been tasked with defending Keggoth's hoard of treasures. As Annen and the Wraiths focused their efforts on the greed demons that had been brought down, Sariel focused on the Palace Guards that had defended Keggoth's palace as well as the larger wrath demons. Including the imposing Archdemon.

As Annen and the Wraiths fought the greed demons, they would sometimes catch glimpses of the Seraph in action inside the large cavernous intersection area of the Living Collections. At one point, Sariel was cleaving through the heavily armored palace guards with her longsword. The angelic blade cutting through their armor's plating through a hot knife through butter. And it would cut equally well through the flesh beneath. Some were sliced in half, while others would find their limbs or head removed in graceful swings. A few were dealt with in a more intimate way, Sariel using her bare hands to break spines, necks, or skulls. But these were the palace guards of Greed. Basically just greed demons with better training and armor.

The wrath demons were dealt with in a far more brutal fashion.

Annen and the Wraiths would soon witness Sariel moving in to deal with the imposing demons, who's unquenchable rage was something to behold. They'd fight harder than these greed demons, and that seemed to be what Sariel wanted most out of the battle. A true fight, even though she was far more powerful than these lowly demons around her. And with a wide, almost disturbing grin, she set upon them.

She would bring her angelic abilities into play, cutting loose as she maliciously beat her way through the ten wrath demons that she charged into. Bones were broken, limbs were removed. Heads were crushed, guts were spilled. One demon was even obliterated with a burst of heavenly fire, his body reduced to ash in a flash of bright divine light as Sariel stood before him. Another was killed by her angelic wings, as she used the four of them to slice him to ribbons with blinding speed. Blood stained the white feathers, but not for long. With a flick, she removed most of it. The rest was burned off with another burst of heat from her form, the charred remnants of the blood flaking off onto the ground.

Soon, the only demon remaining was the large Archdemon. Imposing in every sense of the word, Sariel gazed up at him for only a moment as he stomped towards her. His left hand had been mangled, fingers removed and what appeared to be a massive spiked mace head had been grafted onto it. The right one had nails driven through it's palm, allowing it to stab those it grabbed as it squeezed. It likely would have roared as it moved towards her, but its jaw had been wired shut. That was a head-scratcher for Sariel as well as the other demons, but it did not matter in the long run. He wouldn't be alive long enough for them to figure out the reason.

Sariel's eyes glanced around the room, taking note of the gold in the room having begun to melt due to her bursts of heat and heavenly fire. And a cruel idea popped into her mind. With a swift movement of her arm, she drew her longsword again. Her wings flapped twice, and a moment later, she had disappeared. She hadn't teleported, but instead had simply moved at an immense speed. And had sliced both of the demon's arms off.

Where she stopped was just atop the demon's shoulders, weapon sheathed and hands ready. Annen and the Wraith's would then witness as she knelt down just low enough to slip her fingers in between the wires of the demon's mouth. And with a jerk, she ripped the demon's entire jaw off. His jaw and a portion of his neck went sailing through the air, eventually hitting the ground with a wet thud as she prepared for what was to come next.

A wheelbarrow, full of gold, was quickly snatched up from nearby. Using her wings, she flew up and forced the end of the wheelbarrow into the demon's now open mouth. And by simply placing her hand on the bottom of the wheelbarrow, she soon melted the gold It contained. It flowed forth from its superheated container, the boiling precious metal flowing down the demon's throat. Unable to force Sariel away, it was helpless to defend itself.

Soon, it collapsed. It's insides were cooked by the melted gold that it had been force-fed, and the evidence was ever obvious. The boiling gold melted through the creature's stomach, soon bursting and spilling out onto the floor beside it. Sariel, satisfied with what she had done, tossed the hot wheelbarrow aside. It was melting anyway, thanks to her intense heat.

"Shall we depart? The Hoarding Towers await." she soon said, looking to Annen and the Wraiths.

Annen soon nodded, before looking to her Wraiths. "I'll go and check on the others. Do a sweep of the Living Collections, then head up topside and secure the entrances." said the blood mage. "You're more than capable of handling yourselves without me. Plus, I need to make sure Sariel doesn't kill any of our allies by accident."

Sariel chuckled lightly. "Would you really be able to stop me?" asked the Seraph. Annen simply cut her a look, before motioning for the angel to follow as she proceeded back up towards the entrance.

Minutes would pass, as Sariel cleaved a wide and bloody path through the city to the Hoarding Towers. Annen followed, making sure that friendly demons were kept clear of the angelic rampage. She was starting to find herself particularly thankful that the Seraph was on their side.

Soon enough, they would encounter Xager. Alone. Xager eyed the angel as they approached, her piercing eyes locking Sariel's own. And as they walked up, Annen spoke.

"Commander Xager, this is Sariel. The Seraph." said the blood demon, motioning a hand towards Sariel. She then looked to the Seraph and spoke again. "This is Xager, second-in-command to Lady Tariun. She's assisting in this operation."

Sariel nodded simply, her eyes soon giving Xager a once over. "An ascended one. Interesting." soon said the angel, "I assume Tariun is the same?"

Xager shook her head gently. "I am only partially ascended. Lady Tariun is fully ascended." said the wraith demon, "We are all on our way to a brighter path. Even Annen here, as much as she may resent it."

Sariel glanced back to Annen, who shrugged. "I like being a true demon. Sue me. Besides, blood magic doesn't work well with ascended demons. Its not a particularly holy course of magical study." she said, before motioning ahead of them. "We should continue. I assume you're leaving your followers here to secure the palace?"

Xager nodded. "Yes. They'll secure the palace while we go after Knasus." she responded, "He murdered Kyrend, absorbed his soul, and is now heading towards the Hoarding Towers where Mariette and Neroph are. What he intends to do, I don't know, but that's a lot of power he now has."

This alarmed Sariel, whose expression shifted to one of total seriousness. "He's going to blow himself up and take as much of the city with him as he can. Absorbing that other demon's soul has turned him into a bomb." she spoke. A moment later, she was running towards the Hoarding Towers. "I can stop the blast, but we need to hurry!"

Annen and Xager cut a look to each other, before quickly following after Sariel. And on the way, they soon found themselves joined by Mazgas. And within minutes, they were standing at the doors of the tower.

Which were enchanted, preventing them from venturing inside. They could hear the fighting above, in the upper floors. Hellish blows landing Here and there.

"Stand back, I will force a way in." spoke Sariel, to which Xager quickly responded with a "No."

The Seraph glanced to Xager, whom explained her reasoning. "Yes, you're powerful enough to do it. But you'll likely knock the tower over in the process. The barrier is strong, and this will take a few moments. We have to cancel the barrier out instead of just breaking in the old fashioned way." Xager stated, before looking to Mazgas. The demon lieutenant had already approached the doors, and was seemingly inspecting the magical barrier before them. "Mazgas, do you have any ideas?"

Mazgas held up a finger, as she focused intensely on the barrier. This really was going to take a few minutes.

At least, until they noticed a powerful aura on the other side of the door. They wouldn't have to break the barrier, as it seemed this being on the other side would do it for them. The doors eased open, revealing Mariette on the verge of collapse. Now was the time to act.

Sariel darted in, and grabbed Mariette immediately. Her hand placed on Mariette's forehead, palm flat against her skin. Sariel's eyes began to glow brightly, suddenly covered by a golden sheen. And moments later, Mariette's aura showly shrank in brightness until it had returned to its normal appearance.

"That's one." muttered Sariel, soon glancing upwards to the other's above. And when Mariette spoke, Sariel's attention shifted back to to the demon she had just saved.

"B- Bonjour."

Sariel raised an eyebrow. She's from the Escarian region, judging from the accent. This must be Mariette, the former human. "Greetings, Mariette." responded Sariel, "I am Sariel. Excuse me a moment."

And without another word, Sariel's four wings flapped. Proppelling the angel upwards and further into the room. She was on the move, going after the other two. Xager was quick to chase after. "MAZGAS, ANNEN, GET MARIETTE AND THE OTHERS AWAY FROM THE HOARDING TOWERS! QUICKLY!" spat Xager, looking back to the trio briefly before continuing her chase.


Whatever Rayne Devonshire had done to Cassandra, it had really scrambled her senses. The room was spinning, her vision blurred. Purple translucent spots floated across her field of view. A dull pain was felt, deep in her chest. Almost as if it was deep in her soul itself. And a noise, faint but slowly growing, was now ringing in her ears.

It sounded like mocking laughter. But it wasn't Rayne's.

"Oh, did that hurt?" asked Rayne, her voice oozing hatred. "It looked like it did."

The specter floated slowly towards Cassandra, her hand still held out. Fingertips pointed towards the stunned pureblood. "Dark magic hurts everyone. Everything. Living. Dead. Undead. It eats at you. Corrupts you... Destroys you." she spoke, "...I, and my sister, were masters in its use. We knew its secrets. The twists, the turns. The legends and myths. It's strengths, it's weaknesses."

"I-Is there a point to this rambling? I'm bored already." muttered Cassandra, as she slowly pushed herself up the wall till she could stand. "You and your sister were also dull, dreary, smelled constantly of rotting corpses and shit, and frankly idiots. How else could you have died the way you did? At least I was ripped apart by a god and tossed into Hell. You were deep fried by your own tr--"

She was then hit by another bolt of dark magic, forcing her to recoil and bounce off the wall behind her. Falling flat on her face. The laughing in her ears was still growing louder.

"Shut your fucking mouth." spat the angry specter. Her form shimmered in the darkness, as she inched closer. "I know how I died. Someone set off the trap I had set, in order to prevent anyone from rescuing that damned dullahan. They just happened to do it while I was in it. I bet it was that amateur. That Escarian witch. Mariette."

"It was!" said Cassandra, rolling over onto her back and coughing. "She just slipped a little magic in, and set it off. I heard it was pretty spectacular!"

"Ah... then I know who to hunt down now." muttered the specter. "I'll find her. Wherever she is. And I'll destroy her."

Cassandra laughed aloud, trembling on the floor and forcing the specter to stop. "Find her?! KILL her?!" she said, as she paused only briefly. Another bout of laughter hit.

"What is so godsdamned funny, you blood sucking piece of shit?!" she angrily spat, leveling her hand down at Cassandra.

Cassandra grinned wildly, fangs exposed. "You can't kill her because she's already dead! She's down in the Abyss! She's been turned into a demon, and she's waiting for my inevitable return!" she replied, before laughing again.

Rayne froze, dumbstruck by Cassandra's response. Mariette was dead, and was now a demon? Rage soon rippled across her spectral form, forcing her to shimmer brightly and violently.

And another bolt of dark magic collided with Cassandra's chest. The impact forced her to slide across the floor into the wall. But it didn't stop her from laughing. Really, it made her laugh harder.

Matching the laughter in her ears.

"I'm already damned, Rayne! I'm going right back to Hell when this is all over. Maybe I'll see you there? I'll show you around!" she said between the laughs. "Not your sister, though! She's completely gone! Absorbed by the great lich Ethraeil, while trying to avenge you!"

Another dark bolt hit Cassandra. Then another. "SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP!!!" barked Rayne, pelting Cassandra with several more bolts of dark magic.

Cassandra only found herself laughing harder and harder.

Elsewhere, Royland and Xiaòzhou pushed their way through the undead into the room where the grimoire rested. They sensed it, its evil aura stemming from the far corner on an old rotting table. But there were still several zombies and skeletons between the two and the book. The undead needed to be put down for good, and they soon would be. With Xiaòzhou's taps with his staff and Royland's mace bashing, the undead were no match.

And as the last zombie fell to a tap to their forehead by Xiaòzhou, Royland quickly scrambled for the grimoire. They could hear Cassandra's laughing echoing through the tunnels, as well as the specter's angry shouting.

They needed to destroy the grimoire as quickly as possible, and kill this specter. But the question was how to destroy the grimoire? It was likely warded, so Royland would need to use some divine magics.


Eventually, the librarian returned. And in hand, she carried a metal baking sheet. "We usually set books on this when we're inspecting them for damage. It might work for whatever you intend to do." she said, as she walked across the roof to where Rebecca was standing.

Rebecca smiled and nodded. "Ah yes, that will work perfectly." she said politely, as she took the sheet. She then motioned for the librarian to step away. "It would be wise to stand back near the door."

The librarian did as instructed, as Rebecca set the sheet down on the roof of the building. Then, she placed the grimoire atop it. She took two steps back, glancing to Rajko as he continued his prayers, before removing her sword and tossing it aside near Camille.

"Focus on the tome, Rajko." she said softly. And as she finished, her eyes began to glow as they had before. As the golden light emerged, a simple look up would grant a view of gathering of dark grey clouds. Almost black. Lightning began to crackle between the clouds, leaping to and fro, as Rebecca began to move below on the rooftop. She took a wide stance, and began to move her arms gracefully about. Almost as if she performing a strange dance.

The lightning intensified above, as her movements began to increase in speed. She herself began to pray as well, her mouth moving but no sound escaping. Eventually, it culminated in her throwing a hand to the sky. And a massive blue bolt of lightning struck her hand, before surging down her arm and into her body. She quickly began moving again, seemingly directing the lightning around her form with each graceful twist and turn of her arms.

And then, to finish, she pointed her opposite hand towards the grimoire. And a far larger bolt of lightning erupted from her palm, colored a golden yellow. The electrical energy hit the book in a bright, powerful flash. The lightning seemed to hit some sort of barrier, a green flash bursting forth from around the book. But soon the flash was gone, and the lightning hit the book's surface directly. The grimoire, still quietly resting on the metal pan, was obliterated the moment it was touched. Reduced to ashes, and leaving a massive scorch mark on the pan where it once sat.

Above, the clouds began to part. Rebecca soon straightened up, smiling. "It's done." she soon said, as her eyes returned to their normal look.

"I'm headed back to my room, but please extend a friendly greeting for me to the others once they arrive. You all have quite the fashion sense and taste in firearms,"

Kirill nodded, giving Sebastian a smile, before returning his gaze to Claire. Claire's gaze had shifted to the horses that the vampires had seemingly arrived on. Taking note of the weaponry that they had brought. "You really do have interesting tastes." said Claire, as her eyes shifted back to Kirill.

"The houses prefer to maintain their own identities, correct? We stand apart from the others in various ways. Clothes, weapons, and so on." he soon replied, which Claire responded to with a simple faint grunt.

Eventually, Claire continued on towards the Inn herself. "Have a pleasant evening. And do mind your manners." she said as she walked. Kirill simply tipped his hat to the enforcer, eyeing her as she moved.

 

[Damian0358]

With the last of the undead slain, Xiaòzhou turned his attention to the grimoire and to Royland. Given the situation, it would be best for Royland to be the one to deal with the grimoire, but he considered how he could help.

"If you require any additional power for the grimoire, do ask," the hermit said with staff still in hand, "otherwise, I will keep watch in case we get ambushed," he remarked plainly.

 

[Breadman]

The undead that were standing in their way were no longer a threat thanks to the combined efforts of Xiaòzhou and Royland. While the knight was sure in his abilities to deal with the corpses, he found the help from the oni greatly appreciated. Whatever energy he saved, he could use to spare the world the existence of the grimoire.

If you require any additional power for the grimoire, do ask, otherwise, I will keep watch in case we get ambushed.

"Aye, keep watch." Royland put the morningstar and chains away. He stepped closer to the book and placed a palm on it "When the deed is done, the specter will surely know. If Cassandra doesn't have her full attention, the one responsible for its destruction may become her next target." He turned his head slightly to look at his companion "Would rather not taint your aura with what happens." He looked at the tome again and picked it up with both hands. "Whatever you do, no matter what you hear from me, do not intervene. Please."

There was an earie silence for a scant few moments, until Royland started to talk. It sounded like a prayer like any other, but if Xiaòzhou recognizes the abyssal tongue, he'd hear something else.

"...open the gates and let the sin flow through the vessel and may its content provide the fire with fuel for the purge to come." Royland's arms were set aflame and he let out a grunt as the tongues made their way from his shoulders to the tips of his fingers. The grimoire began to burn with the same fire, the pages and cover turning to ash, but it wasn't over just yet. A swirling energy shot out from the ashes. Its unearthly glow illuminated the room they were in as it began to take form. "As your evil cannot be dispelled with the divine by one such as me, nor can i banish you like a demon, I turn to the power that be to listen." The ball of energy seemed to be 'listening'. The knight removed his helmet, revealing the horrid visage "I accept my role as the sin eater for the author of this tome and for those who held it since. May their victims know peace once the tool is destroyed." The energy shot towards him and forced the wraith to take a few steps back before he balanced himself.

The flames surrounding his head began to burn a bright green as he held his head with both arms. The stoic knight let out a howl as he felt the energy ripple through his body. The pain was searing and forced him to bend over with how intense it was. But he would not falter. He let out another pained scream as his entire body now burned with the same flames. He took a step back and nearly fell to his knee, but caught himself in time to stand back up. Soon after what felt like hours, the flames would cease. Royland stood up again, albeit shaky in his stance. Whatever the ritual was, it left a mark on him. Another in a series in his service to the Goddess.

"...I'm...fine...The specter...we have to get rid of it." He said as he turned around. He started walking towards the entrance they came from, not bothering to place his helmet back on. "Come. Cassandra will likely need some help."

 

[Damian0358]

Xiaòzhou nodded, moving aside not just to keep watch, but to heed Royland's wishes for non-intervention. As Royland went through the procedure, he once more had to note the similarities of the sounds spoken by the wraith to his own native tongue, though per usual he couldn't actually understand a thing. But what he could understand, however, was the amount of pain and pressure he was putting himself under, especially once the grimoire's energy emerged and was 'eaten' by the wraith. The hermit, ever briefly, thought of healing, but then he remembered the plead.

The oni grasped his staff tightly, gritting his teeth in anticipating, as he felt the flaming aura engulf Royland and eat at him. He sighed in relief however, as he felt it dissipate. He approached softly as Royland stood up shakily.

"Are you alright?" Xiaòzhou asked simply.

"...I'm...fine...The specter...we have to get rid of it."

Xiaòzhou merely gave a soft smile in response, as he used the response to begin passively healing Royland. After all, he was clearly heading out of the room now, and it is better to run steady than shaking.

"Come. Cassandra will likely need some help."

The hermit chuckled with a nod, rushing after Royland. He did agree with him, but with what he's seen from higher-grade vampires, they can take a beating. What's the worst that could be happening to Cassandra right now?

 

[Worthlessplebian]

Soon the librarian returned with the metal sheet, Rajko continued on reciting his prayers with hands collapsed. Watching the world proceed whilst the Saint applied the finishing touches to their preparations. Her words, soft-spoken as they were, pierced the inquisitor's ear commanding his total focus on the tome. His lungs swallowed a last gasp of air, before his eyes and mind turned to the tone. His voice rose from a flicker to a pyre with the certainty of a well-forged blade.

Even as the dark clouds loomed o'er head, as the Saint began to twist and turn in harmonious fashion, as the lightning jumped down from the heavens to the palm of the living Saint, Rajko did not dare to flinch or shudder or falter.

The bolt struck an emerald barrier, spell-woven for security, producing a flash. It licked Rajko's heightened eyes with liquid fire or what seemed like it. The light so bright, a blight to the eyes. Until it dissipated and Rajko's vision, murkier than a bog, glimpsed jagged lines of blurry motion shattering an emerald sphere. The trepidation washed away, obliterated as the grimoire had been before him.

With the ritual done, Rajko's hands unclasped to massage the weariness out of his eyes. Through the darkness, Rajko heard Rebecca saying it is done. "Aye, quite..." Rajko stammered over his words. "Quite a display." Spoken with the reverence and admiration of a lowly acolyte, despite the minor discomfort. Rajko's hand fell away as he looked, still blurry but not as incomprehensible as before. Rajko retrieved the scorch-marked metal pan, returning it to the librarian. "Thank you for your guardianship of this tome until now, ma'am." He then looked to Camille and Rebecca. "That is one tome terminated, what's next?"

 

[Infab]

"Thank you for your guardianship of this tome until now, ma'am."

The librarian simply nodded. "Going to be a lot less tourists, but its for the best. Shouldn't really have something evil like that around anyway." she said, before turning about. And soon, she disappeared through the doorway, heading back down into the library.

"That is one tome terminated, what's next?"

Rebecca motioned towards the door. "We should get back to the inn. We'll give the others a little time regarding the other grimoire. If they don't return in the next few hours or so, we assume the worst and go looking for them." she soon said. She glanced to Camille, before making her move. Strolling across the roof of the library, and through the doorway back into the building itself. Rajko followed, along with Camille, and soon the trio were strolling back through the streets of Grimsby.

As the night itself had settled in, the walk was far quieter than it had been before. They would occasionally see movement on the supposedly empty streets. A single person, or pair of people, moving along the sidewalks and disappearing in alleyways. Rebecca pointed out whom was supernatural and whom wasn't with relative ease. Auras giving them away. Most were vampires, having to move about at night to protect themselves from being burned alive in the sunlight.

They were obviously a bit skittish, spotting the trio as they walked. A paladin, an inquisitor, and a known huntress aren't the best of things to see wandering around your town. Especially if you happen to be of the supernatural type. As they neared the inn, however, they would notice a trio of other vampires. And these weren't skittish. Not in the slightest.

Kirill greeted them warmly, giving them a wave and a smile. The others did as well, but Kirill was the one to speak. "A paladin, an inquisitor, and a huntress! My, what a party!" he said, adding a chuckle at the end.


The trek back through the dark tunnels was far easier this time, the pair of Royland and Xiaòzhou quickly darking through the halls and turns enroute to where they sensed Cassandra and Rayne were. They could still hear Cassandra's laughter, but in lesser bursts now. Whether that was a good sign or not was questionable.

"All of this is your fault! And I will make you suffer for it!" spat Rayne, as she pelted Cassandra with more bolts of dark magic. "If it weren't for you, slithering your way into the mountains to Black Hollow, we would still be alive! We'd still be revolutionizing the black arts, and creating a necromancer's haven! But you, you ruined everything!"

"Don't forget Ashwood and Sazak! They were involved too!" responded Cassandra. The pureblood was now forcing herself to stand up, even as she was hit by more black magic.

Her eyes were burning red, her lengthened fangs clearly visible as she gritted her teeth. She was forced to use her pureblood powers to endure the punishment, but it was still unknown as to what kind of toll these bolts of darkness were having to her soul. The only sign that something was wrong was the steadily increasing laughter in her ears.

She knew what it was. It was her. The old one. Laughing away inside her skull.

She felt the aura of the grimoire vanish. Good. Rayne seemed to feel it as well, which was likely why her rage-filled torrent of dark magic bolts were increasing in volume. She soon felt Royland and Xiaòzhou approaching, quite quickly.

Cassandra soon grinned again, straightening up. "For what its worth, I was against coming to recruit you two. I protested the idea, but you know how Ashwood was." she said, "And Sazak didn't help things. The bastard convinced Ashwood that you'd be a great asset to his plans. Sazak certainly has a way with words."

Speaking on Sazak, she thought back to the numerous encounters she had with the demon during their time with Ashwood. He always had an ulterior motive, but at the time she didn't know just what it was. But a nagging thought ate at her, way in the back of her mind. As if she had met the scheming demon long before their association with Ashwood.

As Cassandra attempted to focus on that strange thought, the laughter in her skull oddly seemed to grow quieter. But she soon cast the thoughts aside, as she felt the two auras of her friends in the tunnel outside.

"Well, guess its time to settle this, eh?" said Cassandra, a toothy grin appearing on her face. And as Royland barreled around through the open doorway, Cassandra vanished. Her intense speed coming into play as she avoided another dark bolt of magic from the specter.

But Rayne was prepared for their guests. The specter spun about, and a dark bolt of magic errupted from her hand. Hitting Royland squarely in his chest, and sending him sailing out of the room into the far wall of the tunnel outside.

A blade, however, soon sliced through Rayne's torso. It was Cassandra's, the silver coated edge of the saber causing a visible white gash to appear in the spectral form of the dead necromancer. Rayne let out a horrific wail, the specter darting forward as she recoiled from the blow.

"Guess silver works." muttered the pureblood, cutting a glance to the doorway where she saw Royland climing back to his feet. "Hope you got something to put this bitch in her grave once and for all!"

 

[Dmaster]

Camille had no intention of watching Rebecca obliterate the grimoire with her holy powers, as she thought that the saint didn't need the gawking or commentary from a godless peon such as herself. However, the deafening crack of lightning and the blinding clash between dark magics and divine smiting got her to recoil on reflex, a twist of her head transitioning the huntress' body to face the spectacle as it transpired. Such resistance from the corrupt tome was enough to get her on her guard, as she suspected this process to be relatively instant. Fortunately, the ward on the grimoire was felled easily and Camille found herself lowering to a more relaxed position once the flashing light faded. Like Rajko, she found herself blinking rapidly as her eyes adjusted.

Rajko was wise to ask what the next task of the night would be, and she gave a nod to Rebecca's plan before they walked the streets once again. The saint using her ability to call out who was supernatural among the passerby gave the huntress some pause. In a way she found herself a touch jealous of the ability, having to rely on much more granular evidence to be able to classify a person as a vampire or beast.

Yet it was the thought of the applications of such a boon that had the huntress think of her home once again. Though some vampires were wise to retreat into the shadows after the summit, she could not help but think of the bolder fiends who sought to exploit the chaos brought on by the war. The thoughts of vile opportunists seeking to prey on the panicked and helpless would likely keep her awake tonight.

Seeing the trio of eccentric vampires roused her from that tangent, yet Camille's eyes looked through them rather than studied them. "Sadly you will find my capacity for merriment lacking, monsieur," she replied flatly.

 

[Worthlessplebian]

Rajko as well nodded to Rebecca's plan before descending down the library to street level. The pit of paranoia that gripped him before the grimoire's divine obliteration had finally given ground to calmer pastures of his mind. Intense suspicion is what got Rajko through life since his adoption by the huntsman, though at times he would admit that it is not all good. To feel weary and on guard to people around him. That's why he smokes those mollifying herbs during moments of rest.

Traveling through the streets, the Saint used an ability to distinguish the difference between normal citizenry and supernaturals. It raised an interesting observation in Rajko. Supernaturals by certain merits are differentiated by their aromas, his keen nose even in human form could distinguish that. But the Saint isn't sniffing out these preternatural individuals through physiologic or chemical differences, but likely with a spiritual slant. A few sniffs on the air and Rajko concurred with her findings. If comparisons must be made then he would be three to five seconds slower than her divine intuition. Not factoring wind direction and resistance; sorting through odors, perfumes, natural scents; and distance from the target. "This town is certainly peopled by more eccentric, using the term loosely, individuals than I expected." Rajko idly commented.

As they neared the inn, an opposing trio of vampires had met their arrival. The others were noticeably skittish, a touch fearful of the three but these vampires did not budge in their place. One of them even greeting them warmly.

"A paladin, an inquisitor, and a huntress!"

Said the vamp. Rajko's eyebrow arched as he mumbled. "Walk into an inn, the innkeeper says we don't serve animals. The inquisitor waits outside." The private joke aside, Rajko folded his arms to coincide Camille's clinical reply. "I echo my colleague's sentiment, but what is a trio of... Partygoers such as yourselves waiting out here for?" Surely not for us. Rajko mentally adds onto his statement.

 

[Breadman]

Hope you got something to put this bitch in her grave once and for all!

"Aye...that I do." Royland said as he got back on his feet. The blast of dark energy was more painful that he anticipated. Likely due to the vile contents swirling within him right now. As he said, he had a plan. The chains materialized on his arm again. The head this time was a hook for what he planned to do. Rayne was reeling from the slash that Cassandra gave her, so she wouldn't notice the attack as of yet. He swung it again and the blade of the hook cut into the 'flesh' of the specter. "Not silver, but the Abyssal magic works as well."

Despite being hooked, the specter wouldn't just give up. She spun towards him again and shot another bolt. This time hitting his shoulder and forcing him to take a step back. Mistake as it opened her up to another attack by Cassandra. The silver edge cut another gash across the necromacer and forced her to let out a pained scream. It gave Royland a chance he needed. He wrapped up part of the chain around his hand to get a tighter grip and pulled. The hook didn't tear away, but got the specter close enough to him. It trashed about trying to escape, the attempts to cast magic being interrupted by a hit from the vampire and the oni. The wraith was grateful he wasn't doing this alone. Not in this state.

"You have evaded you judgement long enough, scum!" He growled "But the Abyss demands your soul for what you've done." He grabbed the chain with the other hand set it aflame. The same type of unnatural fire that had engulfed him earlier. The vile energy was leaving his body and traveling towards Rayne through the chains. It took a moment for her to realize what was happening as the flame shot towards her, but by the time she let out a scream, the specter was on fire. "Whatever form you have in this world is gone! Your anchors now pull you bellow! Leave and never return to haunt these ground!" The knight proclaimed as the necromancer turned to 'ash'. The banishment was quick, but not painless. There was a final screech of pain as Rayne's soul was damned to the Abyss. The chain that was connecting her to Royland clanked on the ground as her form burned away, leaving him to fall to his knees. Exhausted. The tome's energy was gone, but it and the black magic that had collided him him left their marks. "If you have any healing." He turned to Xiaòzhou "It would be...appreciated."

 

[Damian0358]

Xiaòzhou could sense Cassandra and Rayne as they approached, and while he had asked himself only rhetorically, feeling the former made him wonder what was actually going on, as it felt familiar but... different, in ways he couldn't describe. She needed help, that's all he knew.

As the two of them rushed in, they proved the ideal distraction... or at least Royland did, as he got launched by the specter's strike. He maintained his healing on the wraith as he got up, all while watching Cassandra use the opportunity given to her at that moment. With Rayne chained, the hermit gave Royland a knowing nod, as he rushed and circled around to help Cassandra as well, maintaining his sight on Rayne. With a bit of healing handed to the vampire, the two of them aided in preventing Rayne from countering Royland's exorcism with swift strikes.

And with that, Rayne's screeches filled the room as she was banished to her final resting place. The oni quickly rushed over, though keeping his distance, upon seeing Royland fall to his knees.

"If you have any healing, it would be... appreciated."

Xiaòzhou smiled warmly: "Always do."

He began passively healing both Royland and Cassandra, though concentrating on the former per request. He turned his sight to the vampire: "Are you doing alright? I can still sense how hard you've been hit."

 

[Infab]

As Cassandra watched Royland perform his duties, binding Rayne's spectral form in his infernal chains before lighting her ablaze, a rather toothy grin reappeared on her face. A hell of a way to go out, being burned to ash and banished to the Abyss. Would she go the same way? Or perhaps a white oak stake would be preferable? She could simply walk back, through the gates in Daristein. But then, she'd still technically be alive.

Once it was over, and Xiaòzhou began his post-battle healing measures, Cassandra slipped her saber back into its sheath. She straightened up, her grin shifting back to a simple smile. And then, a question was posed by the Oni monk as he looked in her direction.

"Are you doing alright? I can still sense how hard you've been hit."

There was a small twitch, ever so faint. Cassandra rolled her shoulders, then sharply tilted and twisted her head to the left. An audible, and quite loud, pop sounded from her neck. Then, her burning red eyes shifted about in their sockets, her gaze soon falling upon the Oni.

"I feel as right as rain, dear boy. Though I am a tad hungry." she said, in a rather upbeat tone. "I appreciate you asking, however. Tend to Sir Royland, since he needs assistance far more than I."

As she finished, she spun about. She had noticed, while she was speaking, that her hat had been knocked off her head during the tustle. Across the dark room, lying on the floor, was her wide brimmed inquisitor's hat. She strolled over, and scooped it up.

But she didn't put it on. Instead, she simply gazed down at it. Eyes tracing every feature and flaw. Every detail marking the surface of the hat. Scuffs, scratches, dirt, holes, and so on. The others couldn't tell what exactly was going on in her head, but soon she spun about.

"I think it's time for a change of clothes. And a bath." she said, walking towards the exit. Holding the hat by its crown instead of wearing it. "After I feed, of course. I should have some vials of lamb's blood stashed away in my things."

It wasn't long after that she disappeared around the corner of the open doorway into the tunnel, her footsteps echoing as she continued her trek towards the exit back up into the tower.

"Sadly you will find my capacity for merriment lacking, monsieur."

Kirill went to speak, but was interrupted by the other leather clad Eshaxian vampiress, Zehra. She pointed out Camille's garb, before making a jesture with her hands. Mimicking a bird in flight. And she said but one word. "Raven."

Kirill looked between the two, before taking a particularly good look at Camille's outfit. "OH! You're that famous huntress from Escaria! My, you're far from home." he soon said, placing his hands on his hips.

Zehra spoke again. "She's not the friendly type, Kirill. Don't piss her off." she said, returning to her horse's saddlebag. She drew a few items from it, namely her rifle and a few personal belongings.

Kirill nodded slowly. "Right. Apologies, Raven." he soon said, before shifting his gaze to the other whom had spoke. The inquisitor.

"I echo my colleague's sentiment, but what is a trio of... Partygoers such as yourselves waiting out here for?"

"Oh! We're simply waiting on the rest of our caravan before we continue on to Peltragow. Fleeing the battlefront to the east." responded Kirill. He then shifted his gaze to Rebecca. Mainly down to her armor. "Spare us a blessing, my lady? For good luck, at least."

Rebecca smiled warmly, before holding up her hand in an odd religious gesture. She said a simple prayer, one relating to Saint Julian, before letting her hand fall back to her side. "I hope it helps you and your caravan." she said afterwards.

 

[Dmaster]

Camille eyed the trio of vampires with only the slightest amount of scrutiny to her somewhat narrowed gaze. Typically she found herself exceedingly paranoid in this sort of company, yet between her tempered experience and the horrors of the purges she saw no reason to be too dour in the presence of refugees. If they were trying to flee the chaos of the fronts, she could not imagine them to be the type of vampires for her to worry about. At least, not at this moment.

"My reputation does seem to precede me, for better or worse," she answers with a shake of her head. "No apologies needed, really. My greeting to you was unnecessarily coated in barbs, so maybe disrespect is what I am owed in turn." The huntress' tone now carried a slight tiredness in her voice, the day's trials having caught up with her and now aware of how her previous train of thought had made a poor impression.

She rolled her shoulders with a sigh, putting on a weak smile. "I can be friendly, though much weighs on my mind. Constant vigilance both socially and martially have kept me alive this long, after all. Still, I'm not so cold-blooded that I would find reason to hunt a caravan of people getting their distance from a battlefield. You all have nothing to fear from me."

 

[Worthlessplebian]

Rajko could not help but sigh at the vampire's plight. Pity and relief wash over him as the barriers of vigilance did not need to maned at this time. The werebat sympathized, maybe even empathized with their troubles. If he had not been taken by the right person, he too would've been on that end of the threshold. A persecuted being simply because of his nature, now fleeing the war efforts by their parent countries.

He watched as the situation relaxed, loosening his shoulders and guard. "It is not much, but I hope your travels go safely. This war's a plague on the world, hopefully it ends soon for better or for worse." The tone is understanding but neutral, not tinted by a semblance of tiredness like Camille's. "You've also nothing to worry about from me. Despite this garb's reputation." Pointing with his fingers towards the inquisitorial uniform on him.

 

[Damian0358]

Xiaòzhou's eyes twitched at Cassandra's ever-faint twitch, before she gazed upon him. The moment they made eye contact, what was momentarily a serious expression softened to his earlier smile. He merely nodded upon her mentioning Royland needing more attention, and concentrated on him further, though keeping an eye as she gazed upon her hat. Soon, she departed.

As the hermit stepped closer to Royland, he thought about Cassandra. He considered the aura Cassandra was putting out up until she had twitched. It was... darker than most times he had had the pleasure working with her. Could the twitch have had something to do with the aura? Before he could switch the topic in mind back to Royland, a familiar voice spoke in his mind.

"[...that twitch is far more concerning that you think, Xiaòzhou,]" Zazriel remarked.

"[...how much so?]" the oni responded.

"[...if that twitch had caused her aura to return to normal, could it not return it to darkness too?]"

Xiaòzhou squinted at the prospect. He felt compelled to get back as soon as he could, just in case getting her fed might help stave off such a prospect for now.

"...do you need help up, Sir?" he asked the knight, close enough to put the wraith's arm over his shoulder.

 

[K0mori]

Sariel covered the distance between the main entrance of the towers to the central chamber swiftly, stopping only once she had passed the threshold and could see the aftermath of the three demons' battle: the kettle, drained and damaged of its destructive potential, lay dormant and surrounded by the fallen and charred masonry from the partially-collapsed ceiling. Just as she entered, Neroph slammed into the outer wall, just to her right, and as she turned to look upon him, her eyes traced the blur of the greed demon's own sword as it, too, careened across the space and embedded itself in the stonework via Neroph's neck. A spray of black blood erupted from the wound as he clenched onto the blade with his hands, weakly struggling to get free.

She looked back on the source of this violence with disdain- Knasus, or what was left of him, was barely recognizable. She knew him only by his aura, which was so badly consumed with corrosive power that it was no small wonder that he hadn't already succumbed. Instead, he carried on, his flesh a blackened, oozing substance that threatened to peel away from his bones with each passing second. Yet despite the fleeting nature of his final moments, he still stood and gawked at the angel's entry in a mixture of anger and disbelief, or so she assumed, given that he was now without eyes or a mouth to denote emotion.

He turned away wordlessly, shambling toward the exterior of the kettle, smearing it with his putrid, bleeding hands as he levitated upwards toward its hatch. Neroph, meanwhile, choked on his blood, his gurgling voice pleading with the angel to do something, anything, to prevent the coming disaster. Sariel stepped over to Neroph and yanked the blade out of his neck, causing his body to crumple to the floor. She stooped and placed her palm on his head, immediately ridding him of the burden his flesh could barely contain. "...Th- thank you. But he..." Neroph managed to sputter as his eyes returned to their normal golden color. He limply gestured to the hideous creature at the lip of the kettle before falling unconscious.

Sariel scowled at the pathetic display. She turned around just as Xager entered the room, the wrath demon arrested in her path at the sight of Knasus' decaying body. "He survived, like the other one," Sariel said before winding up as if to throw Neroph's sword. "That just leaves the tar-fleshed cretin over there..."

"Wait!" Xager blurted out, afraid that the angel might impale their foe against the kettle's wall and kill him, presumably releasing all of Kyrend's essence in the process. Instead, the blade's broad edge struck Knasus like a blunt weapon and crashed his head against the wall. In a delirious state, he fell to the floor, arms outstretched toward the dark portal in the ceiling, and the amplifying chamber beneath that was just beyond his strength to reach. His body began to convulse and emit a black smoke from the voids in his face, as some horrid, far-off sounding shriek sounded from his chest. His death had arrived, taking him fully aware- or so he thought.

Sariel had rushed across the room in the blink of an eye, placing her hand on Knasus' forehead and suppressing his overflowing aura. Her eyes glowed white in the moment, which seemed to last far longer than it had taken with the two lieutenants, but eventually she stood and looked upon her neutralized foe with contempt and disgust. The unholy black humor which sizzled on her fingertips and on the stone flooring disappeared into a puff of foul smoke, slowly receding until the true, mangled flesh of Knasus emerged. "Do you feel that, demon?" Sariel asked, to be answered only by the disgusting, squishy gagging of Knasus' closed throat. He was unable to speak, but even if he could he would have nothing to express but agony. "That is divine punishment. It is the suffering I would bring upon each and every one of your unrepentant, repugnant kind, if not for the providence of Heaven bestowed upon your enemies. You will not die, do you understand? I will not allow it. You will linger and suffer and wish for a permanent death that will not come so long as you are in my sight."

Xager, relieved that disaster had been averted, now cautiously walked over to the sadistic display and gazed down on Knasus' eyeless face. It was true- there was simply no way a body so badly maimed would persist in living without divine intervention. Sariel was sustaining him, perhaps even healing him, to prolong his torturous, decrepit state. She smirked, as she considered the opportunity this now presented. "That he survives a bit longer is all too convenient; the army deserves to witness his death firsthand, and to have it come from a seraph could only serve to undermine their confidence in Tariun's leadership."

"So you intend to show him the mercy of a final death yourself?" Sariel asked, visibly disappointed.

Xager shook her head. "This entire operation was led by Mariette. She should have the honors."

A gurgle of disapproval emerged from Knasus' slowly healing throat.

---
​

Sometime later, as the grand army took stock of the survivors and prisoners, the loss of supplies and the spoils taken, the lieutenants set up a temporary command post in Keggoth's palace. Neroph had regained consciousness after being carried aloft by the most esteemed of his unit, who retrieved him at the Hoarding Towers and before depositing him at the new headquarters, and seemed a bit melancholy at the state of the city around him. He paced slowly, gazing out the windows at Erebus and its streets filled with debris and gore. Mazkas had departed once the camp was established, seeking to make contact with as many officers as she could around the city to gain a clear understanding of the army's current level of organization, and found that most units had endured well, aside from a few notable exceptions such as Mariette's mages, whom were decimated by Knasus in his final, desperate charge for the kettle.

Mariette, having regained much of her composure after feeding on some of the abundant blood of the fallen, sat with Annen preparing a detailed report of the battle and its aftermath that could be taken back to Tariun, a task they assumed would belong to Xager. They were unable to confirm this with her, however, because she had remained within the Hoarding Towers to ensure that Sariel was true to her word and that Knasus would be healed enough to provide a satisfying execution. While it wasn't overtly stated, the lieutenants correctly assumed that Mariette would do the deed, a thought which gave her mild trepidation. Setting down her quill, she closed her eyes and ran her fingers through her hair, tracing a path down the length of her recently-regrown horns.

Annen, amused, chided her. "You're afraid of receiving recognition for this victory, aren't you? You think it would be vain to take the credit? You can't win battle after battle and still remain a shadow, you know."

"It's not that I'm afraid that I'll be known; I'm already known," she replied quickly. "I'm afraid that I will begin enjoying it, and be undone by it. I have thus far succeeded in spite of my sins, and I do not want to jeopardize any of it by changing my ways. I will not repeat that fatal mistake-"

Rolling her eyes, Annen interrupted her. "Yes, yes... You've made it clear to anyone who will listen that your guilt is what drives you. But you should have realized by now that if mortals are capable of changing irreparably toward the worse, that they can also be irreversibly reformed. You will always feel that remorse in your heart, and that is exactly why you won't repeat your mistakes."

Mariette gestured plaintively. "But how can I stand before them with my fist aloft, cheering "victoire, victoire" as if I need them to cheer with me, to celebrate me?"

"Hell is meant to be full of suffering," Annen replied. "This conversation, for example..."

Just then, Xager entered the room with Knasus bound in iron chains, gagged with a bloody rag to prevent him from interrupting. In the time since their battle, Knasus had regained his eyes, and could now glare at everyone and everything around him since he was incapable of anything else. Xager dropped him on the floor as if he was inanimate, like a bundle of firewood. "I know that look, Mariette," she said, almost as critically as Annen, "and I agree that you should take the simplest viewpoint you can on the matter. Do you enjoy being a demon?"

"No."

"Do you want to be known across the realms as a fiendish embodiment of sin that torments the likewise wicked?" she asked again, with embellishment bordering on mockery.

Mariette jumped to her feet and took several steps away, overwhelmed with discomfort. "No, no... I do not want this. But I see your point, both of you. This growing fear I have for my past weaknesses is rightfully tormenting me, and hopefully it always will. But if it doesn't,"

Xager crossed her arms. "We'll kill you without hesitation," she replied, flatly.

Annen smiled, once again amused at both Mariette's predicament and the fact that she seemed relieved at Xager's promise. "Perhaps it would be beneficial if you laid into this persona, then, to further separate it from the mortal soul beneath it all. You've avoided taking a demonic name, as Mazkas has, because you did not want to embrace a new identity. But treat it as an additional identity instead- and keep your own, true name alive for those who know you, like Cassandra..."

Mariette visibly relaxed, thinking about her distant lover. Her return to the Abyss someday would bring an intimacy and familiarity she sorely missed, greatly decreasing Mariette's suffering. But unlike the great fear she had just spoken of, Mariette felt her relationship with Cassandra was pure and selfless, and did not reflect an indulgence in vanity. That is to say, it didn't bother her. "I never considered that possibility," she admitted. "I had been so against the thought, I hadn't even considered what name I could give my demonic persona. Do either of you have any suggestions?"

Annen gave a sly smile, as if she knew the question was coming. "As a matter of fact, I do. You once told me that you come from a place called La Cygne. Two things surprised me about that. The first is that I had already heard about your wine- from whom, it doesn't matter. The other was that there was once an Icon of Vainglory, many centuries ago, known as Lisykna. You are a demon of vainglory yourself, so it seems apropos." There was a beat of silence in the room as the lieutenants considered the name, interrupted only by Knasus' muffled groaning.

"Ce'st ça," spoke Lisykna.

---
​

By the time Mazkas had completed her rounds, the grand army had been divided into two distinct entities within the city. There were those who still considered themselves on duty, and those who were in a far more celebratory mood. It made for a strange mixture of somberness and revelry. To her chagrin, her own unit had fallen into the latter category, with many having broken into the stores of alcohol found throughout the palatial villas they were sent to take stock of. After doing her best to whip them back into shape, at least so that they could show more decor than Annen's wraiths, she gathered the best of her officers and told them to report to Keggoth's palace for a debriefing.

There, they joined the remaining organizational leaders of the rest of the grand army. It had shrunken since the battle's beginning, of course, and a new wave of bitterness swept over them as they recognized the absence of some of those they had stood with since the beginning of the rebellion. Even as the blood was drying across Erebos, they burned inside for vengeance. Inside, the lieutenants met with Mazkas, incorporated her report into their own account of the army's status, and made their plans for the next stage of the war.

The palace doors opened wide and the lieutenants stepped out as a group, bringing a hush over the assembly as the gathered masses noted the maimed and chained presence of the one responsible for their rage. A mixture of hatred and unbridled joy swelled out of the crowd from those who wished for Knasus to meet a grizzly end, and those who knew that it was coming. By now, rumors had spread that Knasus had planned to destroy the entire city, and that the army had only narrowly avoided obliteration. Xager once again dumped him onto the tiled steps of the palace before taking a step back, allowing Lisykna to address the crowd. She raised her hand and conjured a fireball, which soon rocketed forth from her hand to explode in the sky above, just as she had done to commence the battle. Now, however, it marked the end, and once again a silence fell over the crowd in anticipation.

"Hear this!" she called out fiercely. "We came here to deal a crushing blow to Taranoch's forces, and by the blood we used to repaint this city from top to bottom, it is abundantly clear that we have succeeded!" A rumble of excitement formed, but the commander's expression remained stony, or even wrathful, as she raised her hand for attention. "Erebos may be ours, but there are a great many mountains to surmount if we wish to restore the rightful order to this realm, including - as we learned today - the sacrificial loyalty of a few of our foes. Knasus, as you may have heard, had always planned to die for his misguided cause, but he meant to take all of us with him. He took the lives of his equals, unwillingly, in some cases, to grant him the power needed to do so. He is thus twice condemned, by his own cause, and by our recognition!"

Now, a roar came back from the crowd as Lisykna took out her sword and stepped up to Knasus, turning him over with her foot so that she could look into his eyes. There, she found that the hatred of his gaze had been replaced by resignation as his eyes settled on the burning blade in Lisykna's hand. He was broken at last, and a sense of righteousness pooled in her being at the sight of it. "Knasus, I relinquish you of your abyssal soul," she said, driving her sword into Knasus' chest and burning him from the inside out. His body thrashed against the chains in muffled agony until, after five or so seconds, his flesh had been reduced to a pile of ash and bone. Knasus was no more.

Inside herself, Mariette steeled herself, trying not to look upon the masses and attribute their elation to her own doing. It was not Mariette, the mortal, the countess, the vintner who was celebrated here. It was something new, something fabricated: the role she was damned to play.

Lisykna lifted her head and met the crowd with a cynical grin. "In time, may all their ilk meet the same fate!" she spat, to a fresh round of cheers. "That said, you all wish to know what comes next. I will tell you: first, as your commander, you will address me by my mortal name no longer. We will mark this triumphant battle as the moment I finally earned a place among your kind. As such, you shall call me Lisykna." She paused a moment, allowing the officers to process the declaration, before continuing. "Second, I shall soon leave you. Xager has informed me that I am to report our victory to Tariun in person, after which I will be tasked with creating a new, elite unit. Some fifty of you shall accompany me, selected based upon your merit as leaders and warriors.

"Third, Neroph's unit will be detached from the army and be permanently stationed here, in Erebos." This announcement brought on a roar of approval. Although it was quite predictable that Neroph would be selected to inherit the Lands of Greed upon the rebellion's victory, his new station in Erebos was the first official step in the transfer of power. "Fourth, the remainder of Azathor's forces shall report to Mazkas as reserves, as she will now take command of the grand army herself, with her unit positioned as its core. You shall make preparations for the next offensive over the coming weeks, as we challenge Taranoch for possession of the Lands of Gluttony!" There was one final roar of approval as Lisykna sheathed her sword and the other lieutenants stepped forward.

As Neroph began to discuss the immediate need for cleanup across the city and Mazkas waited for her turn to broach the need for discipline among her and Annen's units, Lisykna entered the palace with Xager. The latter seemed perfectly relaxed, and complimented her on the speech. "As always, you are quite the performer," Xager mused. "It wouldn't surprise me if we could launch the next offensive today, given their high morale. But that isn't our concern anymore."

Lisykna nodded. It would take time to train the "new, elite unit" she had spoken of, and she did not expect to rejoin the main force for some time. "Perhaps I could rejoin the main force in time for a later project, such as Envy," she replied. Xager, however, shook he head. It took only a moment for Lisykna to process what was happening. "...We're forming a second army, then?"

"Sazak's forces have been a constant annoyance in the east, and the problem is only growing by the day. Our scouting parties have reported that Kellea is in the area and might even be leading his forces in the field while he traverses the mortal world with Taranoch," Xager explained. "She is your first obstacle."

Mariette stopped in her tracks. "To what end?"

"You will take Vainglory," Xager replied.

 

[Breadman]

"No, I just need a moment." Royland felt some relief as the healing was applied. "The specter's blight is cast back into the Abyss and the tome is gone. The cost was damage to my body, but I wouldn't be serving the Lady faithfully if I didn't have the will for sacrifices." He got up after a few moments. "I thank you for your assistance in both. I don't think the result would have been positive if it was just me." He may have felt physical relief, but there was something else that didn't feel right. Perhaps it was from the grimoire's leftover energy or the dark magic that was used against them. Cassandra seemed to have suffered something as well. He would have to meditate on it later. First they needed to leave the tower. "Let's not keep the others waiting. We still have work to do."

 

[Infab]

"I can be friendly, though much weighs on my mind. Constant vigilance both socially and martially have kept me alive this long, after all. Still, I'm not so cold-blooded that I would find reason to hunt a caravan of people getting their distance from a battlefield. You all have nothing to fear from me."

"You've also nothing to worry about from me. Despite this garb's reputation."

Kirill and the other more dressy vampiress smiled. "I'm glad. And thank you. We'll try our best not to disturb you during the night. Just because we're awake all hours of the night doesn't mean you need to be." he responded.

Soon, however, the leather clad female spoke again. "Kirill, we still need to see if Master Lucas needs anything. Where did you say he went?" asked Zehra, whom had walked around her horse and stopped just at the end of the sidewalk leading to the front entrance of the inn.

"The Purple Rose. His usual place when we come this way." he replied flatly, without glancing back to her.

She simply nodded in response, gazing at Kirill before glancing back to the others. "Well, I wish you all a pleasant night." she stated softly, eventually giving them a smile before continuing on towards the inn.

Rebecca cocked an eyebrow. "Purple Rose?" she asked in a confused tone. During their walk through town, they hadn't seen any establishment named that.

Kirill chuckled. "A vampire's bar. Well, mostly vampiric. Its open to all supernaturals. Hard to find unless you know what to look for." he soon said, smirking.

As he finished, they soon began to hear horse hooves clacking upon the coblestone street. Slowly growing louder, as if they were approaching. And as they looked about, they would find the source. Cassandra, Royland, and Xiaòzhou, returning on their horses. Cassandra looked oddly happy, a smile adorning her face, but her eyes were gleaming a blood red. Royland looked a bit roughed up, but Xiaòzhou looked fine.

As they walked up, Cassandra dismounted gracefully. "It seems we have guests!" she spoke rather cheerfully, as she gazed upon Kirill and the other woman. "Cassandra Bainbridge, at your service!" She followed her introduction with a bow, before tilting her head as she inspected Kirill's outfit.

"...Ah, House Konstantinov! I'd know that duelist outfit anywhere! Still dressing like that, are we? You do know that fashion has evolved since the 1600s, correct?" she said, her smile shifting to a sly grin. Her fangs gleamed in the light of the gas street lamps. She straightened up, soon turning her attention to Rebecca, Camille, and Rajko. "So! How did things go? We destroyed a grimoire and killed the specter of a dead associate!"

Kirill looked as if he had seen a specter himself, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. The same could be said of the more dressy female next to him. But Kirill would be the one to speak. "C-C-Cassandra B-Bainbridge?!" he stammered, his hand moving to the top of his head. As if he were holding his hat in place. "Th-They said you were dead!"

"Well, as you can clearly see, I'm still very much alive! Don't believe everything you hear." she responded, holding a hand up to her mouth as if she were whispering it to him. "Though some people here would love to see me dead and buried. Or turned to ash. And have even tried to make that happen!"

Her head shifted quickly towards Camille, and a more wicked grin appeared on her face. "But, the past is the past! And enemies can become friends! At least for a time, however brief it may or may not be." she stated, without averting her gaze from the huntress.

 

[Dmaster]

The huntress had crossed her arms across her chest as Kirill proved himself to be properly amicable, showing that her initial judgment of him had been entirely wrong. She's seen enough of the faux-polite act from vampires in her time to be keenly aware of when it was being used on her, and this was not one of those times. "I imagine yourselves adept at being quiet during these hours, yet the reassurance is appreciated," Camille replied, her brow raising at the mention of this Purple Rose. Were she here on more typical business, she would certainly want to investigate the location somehow, yet she knew well enough to remain concerned with their primary task.

When Cassandra, Royland, and Xiaòzhou arrived, Camille could immediately tell that something was off with the pureblood. Those gleaming red eyes were enough to get her to drop her hands to her sides slowly, a deliberate motion for keeping her weapons in a few inches' reach.

"So! How did things go? We destroyed a grimoire and killed the specter of a dead associate!"

"... Rebecca has tended to the removal of the other grimoire," she answered, her lips tight as the warming tone she had been giving Kirill turned frigid once again.

Next those eyes locked on to her as Cassandra spoke with a subtext thicker than the coagulant blood she probably enjoyed gorging on, and Camille grit her teeth while slowly placing a hand behind her feathered cape. "For your sake, you should hope that you do nothing to make such stints briefer," the huntress replied, her eyes narrowing with malicious intent.

 

[Worthlessplebian]

Rajko nodded at the exchange between Rebecca and the refugee vampires. A hand swam up to scratch his chin in speculation before the inquisitor spoke up about his hypothesis. "Cassandra could be aware of its existence, Saint." At the very least, Rajko figured that the infamous vampire assassin would've heard of such a place. Kiril and his traveling companion, Zehra proved to be properly mannered, he admits them being snobbishly obtuse wasn't out of the purview of possibilities. Give a person supernatural longevity, suddenly they have a penchant for blood wine, long black cloaks, and unconditional contract to be impertinent to unaffiliates.

The entrance of Cassandra (along with Royland and Xiaòzhou) caused Rajko to flinch away as an irritable yet all pervasive idiom wormed into his head. Talk of the Devil and he doth appear, in this situation, she.

The crimson in her eye did not alleviate the inquisitor's suspicions. The step in her words, the conduction of her character deepened the paranoia like a thumb pushing down a clay surface. It seemed as though that Camille had noticed this as well, Rajko judged from a quick look to where her hands were. Rajko raised his cloak around his form while landing a hand on his Luger pistol. The stench of subtext between them, coy as it is, was not entirely lost on the inquisitor.

"But, the past is the past! And enemies can become friends! At least for a time, however brief it may or may not be."

"For your sake, you should hope that you do nothing to make such stints briefer,"

Rajko sighed, smacking his lips. "Ah, the serendipity that would be." Rajko commented aloud, casting a long shadow with the light of a gas lamp behind him. His head leaned a finger's length forward in curiosity. "And why are you so cheery?" She did not seem one to lose herself to the dreaded combat high that afflicts many after a hard won battle and Rajko's initial impression of her contradicted this behaviour.