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

[Damian0358]

Xiaòzhou was relieved like the others that things ultimately turned out well with the Konstantinovs, rendering him capable to fulfill his usual routine without worry, and being amongst the earliest to get ready to move onward with their former would-be assassins. During his roughly century-long stay on the continent, he had passed over today's Daristein often. The north of the country, along with Tsavania, reminded him greatly of parts of home.

Arriving at the old castle, the hermit admired it with the same look he gave most ancient structures, having managed to survive so long through whatever conditions to survive to this day. The worksmanship needed for that was something to be admired. As they may their way through, however, he began sensing the auras they were approaching along with his fellow supernatural peers. He merely watched as the others discussed, as he prepared for the worst.

 

[Infab]

A week and a half ago...

The Lunar Cathedral, St. Gwyndolin
Nocturne, the Nocturne Isles


"So how many does that make since this war started? A few dozen from Polidori, around fifty from le Rouge, I think a few dozen more from Morgan... Its like they're just jumping ship and running away."

"Maybe they're gathering up to start a new house."

"In northern Daristein?"

"What's wrong with Daristein? The Karnsteins, Ruthven, and Visconti have lived there for centuries."

"Nothing's wrong with it. I just would have chosen somewhere less isolated if I was founding a new vampiric house."

"Well, a crowded city is better. Easier to blend into, compared to a towering castle or fort on the side of a mountain."

"Eh, well. Did you hear that the Enforcer is snooping around? One of the houses is actually helping the demons."

"Oh, right! I heard about that. If she finds out who it is, they're in for a full fledged cleansing."

The trio of well dressed vampires stood off to themselves, sipping from glasses filled with a crimson liquid and gossiping about the latest in vampire society. A useful thing to have around, as one of Aleister's standing would have the dirt on the vampiric houses of the mainland. Both the ancient houses, as well as their newer descendants.

However, he was more interested in the details of vampires going missing from Nocturne. Word was floating around the constabulary as well as the general public that groups of vampires were coming to Nocturne, only to leave with other vampires. Departing and heading for that very same place that the trio were talking about in Northern Daristein. He had heard it described as a castle of sorts, but built by the ancient dwarves.

As he listened in on their conversation, standing quietly and reading a letter from one of his cells on the mainland, he would soon notice that they had stopped speaking. He looked up, gazing across the central hall of the Cathedral towards the group, and noticed that they had shifted their attention to a new presence. A woman had appeared in the cathedral quite suddenly, dressed in a black dress. She wore a cloak, a black hood over her head and a blindfold-like veil covering her eyes. A powerful aura emanated from them, drawing the attention of others in the cathedral as well.

Aleister instantly recognized the figure as Undite.

 

[EdwardDewey98]

"A dwarven castle..." Jakob muttered as he gazed upon the upcoming building, the other detectives looked at the impressive, ancient building with wonder and curiosity. "And the old lady wanted me to sell naval insurances. Look who's the big shot now, mom." said Markus with a large grin on his face, Sheila rolled her eyes but smiled.

"If only ol' Oleg was here." said Billy, referring to dwarven detective and mountaineer Oleg Hrongersson, Jakob looked back at his fellow southerner with confusion. "Oleg? He hates dwarven history." Billy nodded. "Yeah, that he does! I'm just sayin' he would love walkin' through these mountains... besides, I'm sure he would have no trouble namin' the darn castle." Jakob smiled and laughed at the response before looking over his shoulder at the Konstantinov assassins, the thought of Oleg reminded him of his sister and daughter, who were currently in Eternis alongside most of the detectives from the Red Gorge branch of the agency.

"Remember, everyone... once we get the artifact, you sh-" Began Jakob before being interrupted by Sheila. "Head back to Eternis and update the stuck ups, aye, we know boss." Jakob smiled, but shaked his head. "You are forgetting one thing." He said, forcing Sheila to look over her shoulder at the Konstantinovs. "...Do we really have to help them?" She said, still angry at the assassins for their idiocy. "Yes, we will, I want you to gather a small posse and head to Eshax, as we've planned." The other detectives looked at each other, sharing some skepticism over the idea of helping those who wanted to murder them before, but Jakob is the boss, and he calls the shots.

When the group approached the fort, Jakob, alongside the other supernatural members of the group detected something within the frozen halls of the keep, Jakob pulled out his revolver, before looking back at his crew. "What's goin' on boss?" asked Billy as he prepared his rifle. "Vampires, hundreds of them... You should go to Eternis now." Upon hearing the amount, the detectives look at each other again, but then, Sheila pulled out his coach gun. "We ain't leavin' ye boss, not 'till ye or the saint get the artifact." Jakob frowned, but before he could say anything, Markus pulled his two automatic pistols and gave the head detective a smile. "C'mon big shot, youse gonna tell me you don't trust your chums? You think of us as chumps?"

Jakob then turned his head towards the old man, who silently gazed upon the fortress. "Do I even bother asking you to leave, ol' man?" asked Jakob with a grin. The Gravedigger smiled in response. "I am here to fight, my friend, and fight I will. We have your back, Jakob."

 

[Emperor Sagan]

A week and a half ago...

The Lunar Cathedral, St. Gwyndolin
Nocturne, the Nocturne Isles

The cathedral at this time of day - sunset - was effectively early morning for the vampiric citizenry, and by extension, their not-so-distant kin who had opted to settle on the islands with them in a safe refuge. Society was not ruled by the bitter sun here, but rather by the delights of the moon. Still this was no worry, for the youthful city had built itself in a manner most becoming of those shunned by the solar tyranny, shielded by slate and brick and thick awnings. It was perhaps one of the few true cities where a vampire could stroll at any hour of day beneath the sun and not risk sight of its light. This did not mean windows, for example, were absent. Within the great cathedral, the vaulted chambers were seen to by clerics and acolytes gone to remove the heavy daytime blinds from the stained glass. As the last rays of the sun disappeared and the moon grew more energetic behind the misty clouds of the northern sea and rocky isles, life gradually emerged as the supernatural denizens awoke.

Few had yet to find business in the cathedral yet, however. For those that had remained religious over the dire years, services were still held, but the great cathedral that seemed to always expand was every bit a government building for councilmen, national officers, and the residences of central government figures. There was more space for offices and telegraph receivers than seating for prayer, some complained. In the darkness of the earth, more and more chambers were dug and furnished, complete with public classrooms and heated pools for all. There were even rumors that more levels beneath the ground were planned, to send the city plummeting downwards instead of upwards as was so traditional of most settlements. Many businesses and homes were already underground, connected by streets that were likewise buried. It was not merely protection from the sun, but from the cold that stole life from mortal bodies.

Of those already in quiet attendance within the grand hall, a hush rapidly fell. Several figures who were traveling by their lonesome stopped in their tracks, taken aback at the sudden appearance of a woman. Such bizarre actions were not the woefully unexpected circumstances of the previous years, but something more known to all; but this was no mere magick that tricked and wondered the mind. Undite, as one of the only recognized figures of the breakaway church, had an unmistakable aura that sent many into quiet supplication, kneeling or bowing in thanks for her patronage even in difficult times. Religious fervor had been an immutable buttress for establishing Nocturne, but it was a fire that had been quickly tempered as the seasons passed and a time of firm resolve was needed over the heat of fury and contempt. A time of industry and bureaucracy, not reckless abandon.

A lone vampire stood near a series of wooden public letterboxes in the central hall, examining an article of paper from afar that had been sent, subtly, through a public channel to avoid suspicion. He was restless this sunset as he often was, unable to rest well. There was so little life left within him these days that he often thought of himself as the papier-mâché cutouts seen at the children's street shows - a figure of great grace and beauty constructed by careful hands, yet that was all. The depth was gone. Thin as paper. Should he turn, stop presenting himself to the public, and they would see him for what he was. A doll. Nothing. A mere construct that stood for something but did not stand for itself.

He did not turn when the cathedral went silent. His eyes drifted to the shape of a shadow upon the marbled floor which had not been there before, now being drawn larger as the moon grew brighter by the minute with the setting of the sun beneath the horizon. He stared at it with a tense expression, his eyes sharp as knives. When he at last turned, he looked at the figure briefly, the expression growing only harder, like the steel of a freshly minted cannon for war. When he looked away, he strode deeper into the cathedral and up a set of stairs leading to an elevated section of officers, where shuttered windows looked out over the main hall. Another shadow seemed to follow him, a vampire in a crimson coat with black hair and smoldering blood-red eyes, and this figure lingered beside the doorway that was now left open.

"She is coming this way," the vampire said softly, glancing into the office at his master. Dominique could recall a similar scenario what felt like an eternity ago, keeping the door when such a visitation had first occurred. Times had been... worse back then.

"Of course she is," the remaining vampire said, his voice just as low and cut through with venom. "Of course she is," they said again in a whisper.

The offices had been changed over the seasons, but it was the first - and last - place they had met here. Where one desk once stood, several were neatly placed together, workspace for clerks assigned to local dealings and happenings. A small table occupied the opposite side of the room beneath a blackboard overwrought with timetables, missives, and the odd doodle or two. No oil lamps burned here as they once did. Instead, little glass bulbs had been fitted to the ceiling, connected by thick wires. Electric lights were far safer for all involved, and risk of electric shock was less concerning to a vampiric technician than a mortal one.

When Undite at last entered the old office, passing the quiet figure of the black haired vampire at the door who merely watched in silence, she could see her query standing in the back of the room at the table, his back turned. When her steps continued to approach, the vampire at last turned to look at her fully.

Aleister Germain looked about the same as he always had, his ephemeral beauty his greatest strength and focus. His clothing remained fine and fabulous, if perhaps a little sober, and his blonde nearly white hair was groomed to absolute perfection with not a single lock out of place. Indeed, his personal care made him seem younger than he once was, so vibrant and well-cared for, his face soft and awaiting an eager smile.

No such expression came. Beneath the fluttering and buzzing electric bulbs, there was darkness beneath his eyes, creases born from stern eyes and smileless lips. His cheeks more closely resembled that of a marble statue - impeccable yet without movement, neither breath nor smile, neither frown nor excitement. A figure which seemed so youthful and faun-like in countenance was a clear front to one such as Undite, for hidden to the physical world but not to her was the broiling depths of an endless pit standing before her, a figure who once had a soul as colorful as the great northern lights now doused in pitch and stamped out. To look upon the man she knew as Aleister was to look into the bottomless shaft of a dead mine, the caverns picked clean of ore and left to rot, abandoned, yet forever etched into the stone of the earth. It was known that at the center of great hurricanes there was an eye of calm. Here before her was to look upon such an eye to life - not a window into peace, but a window into pure, bleak emptiness.

Aleister stared Undite down as she at last stopped before him. Slowly, and as if the gesture took a great deal of effort, he blinked. "Why... why have you come back? Is our torment not complete enough? I have nothing left to say, to give, or to show you. I am as you see," he said, raising his arms to either side. His eyes barely moved, showing no life, dull and placid. "I desire no more of the divine. No more entanglements. Let the continent fall to hubris. We... I... desire only quiet."

 

[Infab]

"Why... why have you come back? Is our torment not complete enough? I have nothing left to say, to give, or to show you. I am as you see," he said, raising his arms to either side. His eyes barely moved, showing no life, dull and placid. "I desire no more of the divine. No more entanglements. Let the continent fall to hubris. We... I... desire only quiet."

Undite didn't respond. She herself seemed different than she had when she first came to Nocturne; Before, she had been openly emotional. She had worn lighter clothing. She had even hugged Aleister first and foremost. Now, she was silent, clad in black and seemingly gazing more at the floor than at Aleister. Her hands didn't move from her sides, no visible signs of affection presented.

"I... never meant to torment you, chère." she said softly, in almost a somber tone. "...I have always cared about you. Loved you, even. From the moment I met both you and Mariette on Grimtham Isle, I have loved you both as I have loved others. As I would have loved my own children. Why would I willingly torment you?"

She then finally moved, taking a step forward. Instead of a hug, she simply reached for Aleister's right hand. As her fingers touched it, Aleister noticed something far different than the two other times that Undite had blessed him with her touch.

It was cold. No warmth, or life, flowed into him as it had before.

"...I would seek solitude and enjoy the quiet too, but alas... Fate has other plans for me, as it does for everyone else I care for. And Fate isn't known to spare someone its cruelty." she then said, as her hand enveloped his. She gazed down at it, as she flipped it over and placed her other hand atop it.

She simply held it there for a few moments, before releasing it. "...I'll spare you my rambling... and give you facts." she then said, before looking up to his face. "...Both my love of loves, Gyasis, and Thiasis are dead. The Icon of Vainglory, Sazak... that wicked bastard that you know quite well, whom cursed both you as well as the others that night atop the castle... has somehow acquired godhood from an artifact... He slew them both."

She paused for a moment, then spoke again. "...Afterwards, he slew the Abyssal King, Taranoch. Now, as the new Abyssal King, he has his Icons searching for the other artifacts. Likely to make sure that we don't get them first and devise a way to kill him."

The tone of Undite's voice started to shift, her voice wavering.

"...This entire war on the mainland and on the oceans... is the doing of that demonic filth. It is meant to throw the continent into disarray, so that he and his ilk may snatch up the artifacts and begin his conquests without resistance. Everything... Everything that bastard has done over the course of centuries has lead up to this. Watching. Waiting. Ploting and scheming. Making his little moves here and there, just to line things up perfectly for him to assume control. First, he'll take Adonia, then the rest of the Mortal realm."

"...But you know how he is. I don't need to explain him." she whispered, "He ruined your life, through Velin. He's... currently destroying my life, now. Everything and everyone I care about is being ripped away... and snuffed out."

 

[Emperor Sagan]

Aleister remained quiet for a long time, his gaze occasionally shifting from one thing to another - away from Undite and across the tiled floor, settling on some place close yet very far. The situation was as he feared, if not worse. She wouldn't have come here unless it was necessary. There were a thousand reasons why he wished to remain here, lost in the shadows of another night. None of them mattered in the face of what would eventually come this way. Sazak was true, immutable evil. Only Velin in his mind rivaled him for being worthy of such contempt. Yet even if this were not the case, anyone who had obtained artifacts to slay gods couldn't be left alone in this world. Anyone who actually dared to use such artifacts were too dangerous to let live.

A strand of hair finally fell across his face, which he brushed aside as if awoken from a deeper place of existence. His eyes remained closed for some time, but the growing frown on his face was soon joined by a pair of eyes that held a spark of fury beneath its melancholic veil of quietude. Undite was in as bad of a state as he was, and she didn't deserve to look in a mirror for coming all this way.

"... I'll do what I can," he said at last, straightening slightly, his weight supported by the table he leaned against. "But you ask so much and I can offer so little. I'm sure that fiend has agents out there. I can tell my people to find and eliminate them, or otherwise damage their plans. Yet what am I to do? If the continent can't even pull itself together in the face of that fiend, what am I to do? Entire armies are being bled dry, and I am one man. I am... not who I used to be. Not any more." Aleister ran a hand over his face, unwilling to recall the warmth of the past. Even the slightest hint would burn worse than a thousand suns, for the glory of those days could never be obtained again. And in the presence of Undite who likewise could not bring such warmth, it seemed all the more hopeless.

He considered for a moment if this would break him. He knew not what would happen in the following weeks if not months, nor what he was capable of. So many called him a savior yet others considered him worthy of only damnation for the things he had done - things to secure a livable, peaceful future for his people.

 

[Infab]

"I am... not who I used to be. Not any more."

"I know... None of us are." responded Undite, her voice nearly a whisper. She looked back to the floor, before continuing in a slightly more audible voice. "...Valeria suggested that you join the group that Adona selected to locate the artifacts. They found one of the artifacts already, on Grimtham, and have already slain two of Sazak's Icons as well. The newer Icons of Pride and Wrath. They were fledgling Icons, however... The other, older Icons will be more difficult to defeat."

"Adona... Adona agrees. He sees the threads of Fate... and they are kinder to the entire world with you joining in the endeavor. I was against it, not wanting to put you through more of... all of this again. But it was two against one, and so... they eventually convinced me to offer you that chance. The Living Saint, Rebecca Witlocke, leads the group. Your former companions from the Grimtham inquiry, Jakob and Camille, are also with her... as well as a reformed Cassandra Bainbridge. I do not know how Jakob and Camille will take your presence among them, but Rebecca will defend you should you tell her that I, Adona, and Valeria sought your assistance. As for Cassandra... she knows and understands what she has done. She wishes to help put a stop to Sazak once and for all, then she shall return to the Abyss.... I pray you shall be able tolerate her presence long enough for her to accomplish that."

She approached, walking over to where Aleister stood. "...Will you join them? Help them recover the artifacts? Slay the Icons and Sazak? Put an end to this... this madness once and for all?" she asked softly. She took his hand gently again, but this time he felt something. A warmth radiating from her hand, much like one would feel when holding their hand close to a fireplace. A comforting warmth.

"Nocturne could aide those fleeing from the war. There's refugees fleeing the civil war in Eshax, and I'm sure there are those fleeing the fighting in the highlands of Atraca as well. I'll see that they're given proper care and assistance in rebuilding once the war is brought to a close, wherever they choose to live. Our resources are also at Nocturne's disposal, should they be needed."

​

Now...

Rebecca, Cassandra, and Riberta listened in as the other discussed trying to sneak past the mass of vampires within. The Konstantinovs had a different idea, and were now slowly inching their way towards the doors to the main hall. Riberta took notice, and motioned to them. "Seems they're intending to fight their way in. I say we join them." she stated, gripping her sword tightly.

Cassandra chuckled, noticing that there was now music flowing from the hall as well. The vampires inside were seemingly enjoying themselves. "Well, this is going to be a lovely mess." she muttered, drawing her rifle out and checking the chamber. "Besides... if we try to sneak by, they're just gonna spot us anyway. Lycan, Werebat, Saint, a bunch of vampires, some humans... The auras we put off are not helping us, and they'll send someone to greet us."

A moment later, Cassandra's assumptions proved correct. A group of auras began to approach the entrance they were near. Thralls, but hostiles none the less. The time to act was now, and things were about to get quite violent. "Incoming, ladies and gents. Let's invite ourselves in, shall we? Partake in the revelry, and put some filth in their graves." she finally said, giving the members of the group a wicked grin, before moving quickly after the Konstantinovs.

​

Inside, the hall was filled with music as countless vampires and ghouls moved about. They seemed to be in celebration, talking and laughing as they consumed vast quantities of blood and flesh (in the case of the ghouls.) The thralls patrolled within the mass of bodies, rifles and handguns in hand. Tasked with simply making sure the castle's entrance was secure while their masters feasted and partied.

A cluster of thralls, five deep, made their way up the small stairs towards the towering double doors. Their rifles were shouldered, prepared to fire upon the uninvited guests that a few of their vampiric overlords had noticed on approach. Perhaps afterwards, they would feed on some of the intruders as well. At least, the ones that they didn't enthrall. However, they wouldn't make it to the door, stopping as they heard a loud hissing noise just on the other side.

A moment later, a thunderous blast obliterated the doors and a large chunk of the surrounding wall. The group of thralls vanished within the fireball, consumed by the blast and annihilating every single one of them. The blast forced most of the hall to stop, heads and eyes snapping towards the entrance. Even the music seemed to stop. Smoke obscured the entrance, but those of a more supernatural persuasion could see auras moving in. Quite quickly, at that.

The shooting started after a few tense moments, and bodies started dropping. Thralls were being picked off when possible, but then vampires and ghouls started being shot to pieces as well. The Konstantinovs, moving like shadows through the room, beheaded easily over a dozen vampires in a flash. Their sabres cleaving heads from spines. Riberta, the hulking hybrid, chose to simply barrel into the crowd closest to the door. In her charge with her sword, she impaled three thralls and a ghoul, before slinging them overhead and giving a brutal kick to a nearby table. The impact sent the table flying into a trio of vamps and a handful of ghouls, knocking them backwards onto the floor.

Cassandra darted through the smoke next, her rifle shouldered and aiming for her own targets. With a rapid crack of five shots, her hand cycling the bolt of her Krag like a machine, she put down five ghouls. Then, bayonet fixed to the end, she threw the rifle like a javelin at the nearest vampire. The rifle pierced their torso, sending them into one of the six massive pillars that held up the roof of the main hall. It pinned them there, before Cassandra closed in and cleaved its head from its shoulders with her own blade. A wild grin stretched across her face, while an equally wild look filled her red eyes.

Rebecca moved in as well, following after Riberta and putting down the ghouls and thralls that she had stunned in her charge. She even shield bashed a few, pummeling them into mush with the edge of her new shield. The rest of the group would soon emerge from the smoke, as the vampires, thralls, and ghouls began their own counter-offensive. Determined to kill the invaders crashing their party.

 

[K0mori]

Kur
​

At the edge of the city, where the collapsed remains of failed and outcast demons' dwellings slumped against the ironclad walls and gateways, the barrier between the worthy citizens of Kur and those too weak to enter, Astraal stepped up to the edge of the wall and looked out over the ruinous landscape. His officers straightened up in his presence, awaiting his command. "Any change, at all?" he asked, quiet and deathly serious.

"Yes, sir," replied an archdemon. "Our scouts report that they will break camp soon. If they come within the hour, or even immediately, we are in position to receive them."

Astraal nodded, grimly, before swallowing. Although clearly nervous, his steely gaze suggested a powerful vengeance brewing within- one which demanded he face the coming threat head-on and destroy it. "Good. I've been waiting a long time for this."

The archdemon returned the nod. He, like all of Astraal's inner circle, had been informed of Lisykna's history of servitude to Sazak and her subsequent betrayal. And of course, there was also her role in the slaying of Ergran. Since her ascension to demonhood and command in Tariun's forces, she had been wily, escaping numerous attempts by headhunters to exact Sazak's revenge, if not outright turning the tables on them and depriving the Abyssal King of skilled assassins. There were even rumors that she had nearly struck Kellea down, prior to the latter's appointment as Overlord.

As a result of all these things, Astraal's subordinates viewed Lisykna in a similar light to Xager- a truly wretched, feral attack dog for the rebellion whose bounty was second only to that of Tariun herself. Protecting Sazak's palace was a secondary concern to seeing this cur put down. To do this, they would need to do their jobs: draw the rebels in, in a way which prevents them from disengaging in order to save themselves when the tables turn. Lisykna had gone to great lengths to protect her army in the prior months, and so she wouldn't abandon them even if they were caught in a snare which only grows tighter, until the binding cuts into the skin and bleeds the creature out.

She would fight on, even to self-destruction. It had nearly happened in Erebos, too, and Astraal reckoned that he could bring the witch to destruction with a far simpler plan than what Knasus had attempted.

"...Sir!" another archdemon called out. She motioned to a distant ripple in the sky- a wall of illusion which rolled across the air.

Astraal drew his sword. "It's time, then! Mages, get your wards up!" The mages did as they were instructed, guarding the battlement against magical attacks as archers and gunners took cover behind the merlons. The illusion impacted the wards like wind, dispelling themselves in the process, revealing the invading army at last. Astraal's eyes widened as he realized that, despite the powerful illusion, it was not the mages at the spearhead of the attack. Although Lisykna had employed this formation before, he had expected her to change strategies while attacking a fortified position. Instead, she had given him an early advantage.

The mages took to the air, instantly throwing bolts of lightning and motes of fire down on the rebels, who did all they could to resist the elements as grounded mages embedded within their units cast their wards from below. The turtle-like shield formations assisted their survival, and soon they began to deploy siege ladders. Astraal, however, was keeping his eyes on the horizon and the flea-like dots in the distance - enemy mages, all of them - as they approached at speed.

Then, he spotted her: his brother's murderer. His blood ran hot; the moment was nearing, but he wouldn't let it consume him- not at this critical moment.

"FALL BACK!" he demanded, and his archdemon lieutenants echoed the order. Quickly, the mages abandoned the wall and moved inwards, towards the ruinous towers of the city. The ranged warriors fired their arrows, bolts, and bullets as they, too, descended the stairs to ground level in order to cover their superiors' retreat. Blasts of magic impacted the ground around them, blowing craters into the solid stone and scorching the iron plating.

---
​

In the air, Lisykna hovered, her hand outstretched with her palm facing the earth. As concentrated hellfire condensed at its center, her eyes darted around at the early retreat. Why are they running? Is Astraal a coward, or does he mean to draw me in? The sight aggravated her. She had hoped to kill more of the defenders as she took the wall, but it certainly seemed that the vainglorious demons would prefer to do their fighting in tight, urban quarters. She didn't like it. It increased the chances that her units would lose their cohesion and be picked apart.

Razial, sensing a problem, flew up beside her. "My Lady, this feels like a trap," she said.

Lisykna nodded. "Oui, it does. They won't meet us on the field, and there hasn't been enough bloodshed yet. You and Tiloc-"

"I'll be fine," the blood mage snapped. "The wraith, though? She still requires too much lifeblood for her chaotic rituals. It would be easier if she were one of us."

"Not this again, not now," Lisykna hissed. She returned her attention to her warriors, who were now filing down the same stairs the enemy had taken to enter the city proper. "Phytraag!" she called out as the scout leaped to the top of the wall. They turned their attention skyward, gracefully turning and settling behind the merlons for safety. "Send word around: condense and move in deep file, narrow rank. Scouts and wraiths, clear the towers!"

The cloaked figure gave a sort of salute before bounding off the top of the wall to spread the word around. They would push themselves in, protecting the columns as they made their slow advance through the deadly terrain. The mages moved slowly and ominously, occasionally beset by ambush from the towers. Lisykna scanned the blackened outlines of buildings as she floated on, growing increasingly unnerved by the quietness of it all. There were more hollows amidst the windows and doorways than actual threats, but their presence nonetheless drew wasted attention. It wasn't long before the archers among her warriors began wasting arrows as well, and then came magical strikes from impatient mages.

But despite the discomforting approach, Lisykna began to recognize her surroundings again, especially when she flew close to the ground, experiencing the city as she once did on foot. They were nearing the palace, and most of the army was fully intact; all she had to do was corner Astraal on the open ground and all of this could be over. Maybe that was why she had been seemingly invited in? Perhaps Astraal would defect, as Azathor hoped he would...

 

[Dmaster]

Camille crept alongside the group, movements steady and meticulous as she moved with a balance of speed and stealth. Even her breathing was deathly silent, yet her eyes carried an intensity that gave the impression that she was ready to leap into the fray at any moment. One quiet sound came from her person in the form of mechanisms clicking gently as the huntress loaded her wrist-mounted crossbow with one of her new bolts. There was no time like the present to test out this new ammunition's efficacy, she thought.

"I'll take no pleasure in what shall come next," she replies coldly to Cassandra. Looking ahead to the doorway before them, Camille hardly even flinched when the explosion went off and took her opportunity to rush into the hall.

From the smoke she emerged as if she were a specter, feathered cape spread wide like a corvid preparing to take off in flight. As soon as she adjusted to the lighting of the room she flicked her gaze to one of the well-dressed vampires leveling a sidearm at her. What could only be perceived as a flick of her wrist she snapped her arm toward her target and let her bolt fly, the shot connecting square in their face before that tiny shell struck itself with the impact. An explosion of buckshot ripped apart the vampire's head messily from their shoulders, the body crumpling to the ground about a second after.

Not losing momentum, Camille hopped atop the nearest table with a leap, jumping again as she twisted in midair and loosed several silvery daggers into the throats of thralls and vampires alike. The movement concludes with a front flip as she halts her momentum, reaching for her blades that she unsheathed in a flash. Taking yet another leap, this time she was truly in the fray. Her practiced bladework cleaved necks open, the numbers of thralls and vampires upon her only seemed to be encouragement rather than a deterrent. It was easy to see that here the huntress was in her element, even managing a few preemptive dodges of vampires attempting to rush her with their superior speed.

To those that had seen her fight in Grimtham, this was a contrast to her calculated exploitation of weak points and usage of feinting that she would perform with her rapier. With her sabers Camille moved as if she were participating in some deadly ballet, movements like liquid as she controlled the battle with swift movements and rapid slices that cut her foes to ribbons.

 

[Emperor Sagan]

"My former companions?" Aleister said, voice hollow. "A pack of wolves, more like. Half of them did not heed my warnings, my concerns. Perhaps if they had, Velin wouldn't have left us with thousands less to fight the demons, hmm?" He looked away in disgust - at his memories, his thoughts, himself, the world around him. Bitterness seemed the only flavor left to him these days and he could scarce find comfort anymore, even in the fleeting little moments of life he used to so appreciate. But he hadn't gotten this far by giving up, even when he so dearly wanted to. Maybe there was a cruelty within him like so many said of vampires, and that he only hid it well, beneath lofty ideals. If that was the case, then none could doubt the authenticity of his ire. "As for the rest, it matters not. I should know better than to count on fate being kind enough to give me thoughtful allies. Whatever to slay that wretched demon, I suppose."

He stared in silence at Undite as she took his hand, providing it with warmth. For a brief moment he felt that peaceable feeling, the sensation of being free from the stormclouds which infested his soul. Then he drew his hand back. "No... no more of that. It is too painful," he said, nearly trembling.

"I will do as you ask. Tell me where to go, where the hunters are, and I shall try. I've spent a great deal of time painting and writing... merely watching the moon and the cold nights, but I still remember how to shoot and act. Perhaps this will be my last great play; perhaps it shall be the first. As for these islands, they are open to any who flee the sick tyranny of the continent. We've already drawn up many sailors from the dark, frigid waters after their own navies left them to drown in the wake of battle. Some serve upon our vessels now, as few as they may be. So long as this land stands, it will remain a beacon against the crowned swine, whether they reign in this world or any other," he stated, an ounce of fire returning to his demeanor. Gradually, it left him, swept away with a cool draft.

"Dominique?" he called, prompting his bodyguard and confidant to approach from the doorway. "Please assemble my traveling bag. I'll be taking that new rifle that old inventor brought me as a gift... and my old pistols."

The crimson-eyed vampire bowed. "And your attire, my love?"

"...something sober. Black. A suit, a ribbon, a bowler. Boots and gloves. I fear this is no time for habits and dresses and finer clothing," Aleister said wistfully. He turned back towards Undite. "Don't expect miracles of me. If there are enemies, I will kill them. There is nothing left to do or try. I'll give the word to my people about the islands and the continent to assist however they can in combating Sazak's minions. As for myself... I suppose I have some letters to write and goodbyes to make. I can only hope they will not be final."

 

[Breadman]

"We have orders." Lozon adressed the wraiths "Those towers are harrassing the army. Move in and clear them out." The host of the vengeful dead divided itself into teams and disperssed through the streets and alleys in order to strike at their targets. "Royland, you're with me."

"I work better alone." The knight turned to walk in the opposite direction as the demon materialized before him

"You are not and I frankly do not care for your whims. Follow orders!" The knight stood there for a few moments and looked to who else was joining them. Boris and two other wraiths he didn't recognize. Connor had taken Fritz and Andre for his own group. Tiloc was currently casting spells as some of the commanding demons were showing her favor. Only fate knew if that was going to end well.

"Come Royland. Lets work off some anger my friend." Boris growled as his massive bear form stomped near them. "Get on back and we charge them like dragon, da?" He laughed. Though it was intended as mockery, Royland climbed on top of his back.

"I have a better plan." The knight spoke as he wrapped the chains around the beast's form. "We are going to use you as a battering ram." The werebear let out another laugh.

"There we go. Lets have some fun!" He roared and charged to the nearest tower.
---

Besides... if we try to sneak by, they're just gonna spot us anyway. Lycan, Werebat, Saint, a bunch of vampires, some humans... The auras we put off are not helping us, and they'll send someone to greet us.

"I'm not different enough to mention?" Constantine joked as he prepared to enter another fight. The sheer mass of auras was staggering. Just how many were down there and how many victims did they claim to feed on? The oppening from Ribberta, Cassandra and the Konstantinovs was enough to make the party stop dead in its tracks and the commotion was enough to wake the dead. Literally.

The form of the burning cowboy gave away what awaited the enemy once the inittial shock wore off. Some of it at least. His shots rang out from the fog barrier. The bullets of abyssal energy slamming themselves into ghouls and thralls alike. Once he was fully out of the smoke he could see just how much damage they had caused so far. A group of ghouls charged him, trying to rip him apart, but were put down quick as he fanned his revolver.

A vampire was quick enough to jump him and toss him into a nearby chair. Mistake on both their parts. Constantine got too cocky and didn't think about someone being quick or strong enough. The vampire's mistake was thinking he was about as strong as a human. The cowboy rolled away from a subsequent jump the vampire tried to do in order to finish him off. He got up on his feet and held something in his hand. The vampire didn't react as the wraith slammed a fist in his jaw disorienting him, but he figured out what it was as the wood was slammed straight into his heart.

Constantine noticed another vampire trying to sneak up on him. He turned around halfway and threw a card that embedded itself in her throat. He closed his hand into a fist as if by instinct and the card detonated with abyssall energy. The explosion completely destroyed her neck and send her head flying into the air. Her corpse took a step backwards before collapsing in a heap. The gambler took a second to admire the handywork. That type of detonation was a new trick.

The fight continued and didn't show signs of stopping. Constantine got up on one of the tables, taking shots with his revolver at whatever ghoul and thrall he spotted. Another group was coming through the middle of the hall and that caught his attention next. He set his sights on one of the hanging chandeliers and fired at the rope keeping it hanging above them. The bullets cut through and send the heavy wood and metal crashing down on top of the creatures bellow it.

That of course send some of them scattering. Constantine maifested ropes around his arms and formed the end of a lasso. He just needed to catch the right one. He roped one of the thralls and pulled. The creature screamed as flames raced along the the rope and burned it. Some of the others tried to set it free, but its what Constantine was counting on. He channeled more of his energy into it and the flames got hotter and the thrall burst into flames which spread to the others. In their panic, they spread the flames to more and even some of the vampires. Constantine let the lasso go and manifested his revolvers again.

He jumped down from the table and moved closer to Azathor, taking shots at the ghouls and thralls. Constantine stood behind him to cover the demon prince's back.

"Enjoying yourself, your majesty?"

 

[joshuadim]

When the onslaught began, Azathor wordlessly had charged forward to deal with the enemies that were in his trajectory; baring Belias' steel, it let out a metallic hum as it glided through the air to first slice through a thrall's chest before gliding through to the next target. A ghoul was decapitated with ease, leaving its head sailing upwards until the demon prince gave a jumping kick to direct it towards another ghoul, staggering it as its compatriot's head collided with its own and sent it stumbling back. This created a wide opening for Azathor to give a brutal thrust into the creature before giving a sharp, upwards yank. This bisected the creature, leaving its two sides to fall apart onto the ground in a gory mess while Azathor pushed on further into the hall.

It was then that he came face to face with a few vampires that were stumbling to get their weapons in order for a counterattack. The sudden ferocity from the group had caught them by surprise, and the demon prince would not afford them the opportunity to do so. Pushing himself out of his vessel for a moment, as he had done on the Atracan-Tsavanian front before, he moved with incredible speed; an afterimage followed at every point he stopped momentarily to deliver a brutal strike, the first of which cleaved the torso of one of the vampire's apart, before moving on to the next target. His second stop he practically materialized with a black haze behind the vampire and cleaved her head clean off. The third he appeared to the vampire's left and broke his knee, forcing him down, before delivering a kick strong enough to send him airborne.

Azathor would then pull out his pistols and unleash a barrage that juggled the vampire in the air from the bullet impacts before his head popped like a melon due to two well placed shots. Shortly thereafter, he was joined by Constantine who had been firing his own guns at nearby enemies and now stood back to back with him. "What, am I not being flashy enough?" Azathor retorted as he reloaded his pistols before unleashing another barrage onto nearby ghouls and thralls.

 

[Breadman]

"No sir, you're flashy as one can be." The wraith said ducking under a swipe from a vampire and unloading a shot from under his chin, sending skull fragments and brain matter in the air. "But all this commotion reminds me of something I've heard down bellow." He needed a moment to reload. "They say if you're willing and brave enough to meet with royalty and offer the services of your essences in a tough time, you can change your fortunes for the better." The drum of the revolver refilled with the bolts of energe and Constantine let out another volley at incoming enemies. "So I wonder...is there something to that you reckon?...Something we can use to turn the tide."

 

[Damian0358]

Xiaòzhou's preparations were ultimately simple - knowing how many enemies they were about to face, the hermit channeled much of his abilities instead towards pelleting them with continuous mystic barrages. Given everyone else, it was obviously apparent that everyone was, for the most part, going to rush in, so his barrages would rain down from above. He'd keep a distance, meanwhile, to act as support for the others, and as an emergency combatant if things turned dire.

Soon enough, it was time, and with an explosive entrance, the battle began. To those that didn't die by the attacks of his peers, they would fall to his mystic barrage instead, an exercise in casual flashiness and precise execution. Now wasn't the time to get tired.

 

[K0mori]

"I'll take no pleasure in what shall come next,"

"I might," Sebastian said with a dejected shrug, glancing between Camille and Cassandra, "...maybe just a little."

Then, everything went into motion, as one after another, the party made its violent entrance to the grand hall. Sebastian wouldn't enjoy putting his own life on the line again, but at the very least he could take out his general frustrations and misgivings about sharing a place in this mission with Cassandra against targets which were both disposable and deserving. He opted for his shotgun at first, sliding into the fray once the more powerful sorts had already exploded onto the scene, and while others employed flashy maneuvers and overwhelming strength, Sebastian was content to clean up behind them by simply blasting the heads off of wounded ghouls and thralls.

He walked at a steady pace through the room to keep up with his comrades, pumping the weapon and kicking away grabbing arms and biting faces who came too close to his boots. It was only when one of the vampires broke through that he was forced to change strategy, as in nearly an instant, he was seized upon by a vampire who descended upon him from the shadows above, baring his fangs, and jamming them down onto what was thankfully only the thick wool of Sebastian's overcoat.

"Gah! Get the fuck off of me!" he yelled, wheeling backwards as the chandelier came falling down from above. As the vampire reared backwards to try again, Sebastian grabbed his pistol out of its holster using his left hand and fired several silver shots up through the creature's abdomen. It flinched and released him momentarily, allowing him to raise the barrel of his Winchester and pull the trigger, but he hadn't chambered his next round yet, and so the vampire slapped the gun out of the way and slashed Sebastian across his face, nearly taking out the soldier's eye, before staggering backwards in pain from the bullets still lodged in his body.

Sebastian then grabbed his axe out of his belt loop and pulled back for a strike, only for his arm to be grabbed by a ghoul who sunk its teeth - again - into the thick wool of the jacket, leaving behind a rip where the fangs dragged through the weave. At that moment, his original opponent closed in again, this time with a knife, and jammed the blade into Sebastian's chest, impacting a rib bone on the first attempt that caused his hand to slide up the handle and slice open against his own blade. Both men cried out in pain as Sebastian worked his right arm free from the ghoul's grasp and took a swing with his axe, but the blade sailed over the vampire's ducking head as the latter made a futile swipe at the knife's handle, still protruding from Sebastian's chest.

Angrily, the soldier turned, using a backhanded swing to catch the ghoul in its jaw with the butt of his axe head, tearing the jawbone loose, before the vampire tackled him from behind, pinning him against the ground in such a way that messily dislodged the stuck knife. Sebastian screamed and the vampire tried again to bite him, but his own weight against the back of Sebastian's coat balled the fabric up around the collar and again a vampire's fangs met only a mouthful of wool. Sebastian threw a wild elbow, amplified by the pain and adrenalin in his body, and knocked the vampire loose before picking the knife up off the filthy ground and slashing several times, meeting nothing but air.

The vampire then grabbed him by his arm and twisted, disarming him of the knife, only for Sebastian to grab blindly at the axe handle with his other hand and swing, cracking the wrong end against the vampire's ribs. This only offended the creature, who grabbed and pulled the weapon away, but in the meantime Sebastian had already gathered up the knife with his right hand. With one last defiant yell, he plunged the blade into the creature's neck, kicked him away, scooped his axe off the ground, and split the vampire's head open.

"AAAAAAGH!! FUCK!" He screamed, setting about swinging his axe like a madman as he continued the fight.

 

[Worthlessplebian]

Rajko walked, creeping alongside the group low and ready. His movements had been considered, breathing slow, pulse steady. This ancient monument, derelict but not abandoned. His eyes panned, scanning the ruined corridors they traversed through, showing signs of recent disturbance. They reached an entrance, and suddenly, a crackling sphere of flame burst through a set of wooden doors, incinerating the thralls behind into charred husks of bone.

Through the belching smoke and the wailing of the damned, the inquisitor picked up the scents and sounds of numerous creatures. He was vaguely aware of the party forging their violent paths through the chaos. Through the smoke, Rajko saw the dozens of pale-skinned, ghoulish features of the thralls and inhuman beauty of their vampiric keepers. The thought of purging this relic from their forsaken blight brought no joy to the inquisitor, it was simply duty. A chore to be done, for he knows the risks of fanatical adoration of death.

His steps were measured, finishing off the enemies left behind much like Sebastian. One ghoul hollered an almost-deafening screech as three bullets ripped through his chest, Rajko saw the opportunity, and charged. His rifle up, bullet chambered, hard eyes narrowed, and fired. The rifle loosed a bullet with a decisive crack. It went down, brain destroyed by shrapnel of bone and metal. The bolt clacked, chambering another round.

He was keenly aware then, of barbed talons slicing through the air towards him. The inquisitor, reflexes honed and sharp, threw himself forward. A set of wicked claws raked across his back, narrowly missing his neck. Rajko rolled, shoulder hitting the dust-covered flagstone of the Dwarven castle, he turned then raised his rifle and eased off two rounds one after another. The long-haired vampire spat blood as the bullets ripped through the pale, taut flesh, but did not stop.

Rajko clenched his teeth. The vampire lunged at his prone form. A mistake. He brought up his feet, bunched against his chest. His legs kicked out at the right time. Pinning then pivoting the vampire's momentum, throwing her behind him. The inquisitor scrambled to his feet, sending dust and filth flying off his coat, pulse racing. His anger had been flared, straining against the cold iron chains of his discipline.

He kicked the vampire's chin, head snapping to one side, lips split, revealing fangs of wicked points. He stomped on her chest, pitching her to the ground, drawing his silver-loaded Luger. His finger squeezed the trigger —one, two, three times. The first two struck through chest, burying into her heart. The last barreled through the head cracking against the ground, blood and brains splattering the roughened stone floor beneath her.

There were three of the ghouls. Three vermin enthralled, hunched, pale-skinned with their elongated heads, and spiny, anorexic backs. They attacked in the terrible howls of combat, blurs of sheet-white skin, bared fangs, and slicing claws. They had twisted away from the others; their target now Rajko. The closest one rushed at him with claws outstretched, the inquisitor barely fast enough to retort with his pistol. He hit it, a direct strike. Its shriveled head perforated sent a streak of blood, bone, and brain. The other two did not wait. In the flashes of light between the dark, the ghoul closed in on him. Shrieking, it bit onto the Inquisitor's shoulder through his coat, rifle clattering away. He forced himself not to howl in pain. Teeth grit, the inquisitor jabbed the barrel of his pistol into the creatures stomach. Loud snaps filled the uncomfortably tight space between them. Rajko freed his arm, delivering a punch that sent ghoul down, distended jaw limp and lifeless.

He slashed out with his sabre, steel meeting bone and ligaments, cutting off the clawed fingers of the next ghoul. The blade went high and fast, carving a line from the ghoul's a line from waist to shoulder. Rajko cut it down with two point blank shots to the chest. The inquisitor hissed, voice racked with pulsing pain from his back and shoulder. "Bloody... Fuckin' 'Ell." Letting slip his Atracan accent.

The battle continued.

 

[EdwardDewey98]

Jakob looked to his detectives and the old man, reading his weapons as he and the others hunters approached the keeps entrance. He glanced between them all, concerned for their well being. "Again, ain't no shame in getting cold feet, I'm tellin' ya... there's a lot of 'em inside." he said, reading his two Remington 1875s.

"Boss, if we survived the incident at the Carter manor despite there bein' like a hundred o' 'em zombie freaks... I'm tellin' ya, we will pull through this." said Billy, readying his Marlin rifle with a rapid cycle of its lever.

"I fought through the war back in me homeland with nuffin' but a rusted sword and this old gun... I think I can handle meself quite well." added Sheila, as she looked at the pair of shells in the breech of her coach gun. "Ain't nothing stopping me."

Jakob grinned with pride at his colleagues, before looking to the Gravedigger who was loading a shell into the tube of his Spencer shotgun. His trusty spade rested on his back, also awaiting use. "I trust you know some magic to keep 'em at bay, right old timer?" asked Jakob.

The Gravedigger smiled and laughed. "The only magic I possess is being able to tell when it's going to rain!" he joked.

Marcus soon responded to the comment. "That's because your old joins ache, you old coot." The detective then drew two impressive handguns from a set of holsters on his sides. A matching pair of Mars automatic pistols. One wouldn't expect a rather scrawny city detective like Marcus to own such firepower. "Are we ready, boss?" he asked, looking at Jakob.

Jakob turned to the other hunters, who were already entering the keep. Jakob looked back to his men afterwards, and smiled. "We're ready, baby."

​

When the group arrived at the entrance of the keep, it was Billy who set up the dynamite that would allow them to finally enter the castle. When it detonated, the others rushed in, and Jakob and his detectives followed suit. Upon seeing dead thrall remains, Billy looked to the other detectives with a toothy grin. "Well well! I got first blood!" he said. He then took aim at other creatures further in, before unloading his rifle at an unnatural speed and with incredible precision. He even managed to kill a ghoul that had been sneaking up behind Cassandra.

"Don't get cocky Bill!" shouted Jakob as he fired his twin revolvers at an incoming Ghoul. As he was about to shoot another, a female thrall would jump on his back and attempt to stab him in the neck, but the thrall was soon killed by one true shot from Marcus. The Mars pistol had blown a rather sizeable hole in the thrall, forcing it to fall off of Jakob.

Sheila's powerful shotgun pulverized ghouls that had closed in on her, but its limited capacity was not ideal for the situation at hand. "Bloody hell, you were right! There's a lot o' 'em in here!" she said, drawing her Mauser pistol. Several more ghouls were starting to close in on her.

Upon seeing this, Marcus shouted at his partner. "Sheila! Take this!" he said, throwing one of his pistols to Sheila. She managed to catch it, and began to fire on the undead.

Jakob and the Gravedigger joined the other hunters in the slaughter, watching as Camille gracefully took down her enemies and the deadly precision Constantine was employing. The three cowboys stood next to one another, unloading hot led into the hordes of evil. At one moment, the Gravedigger noticed that Sebastian was struggling against a vampire. He moved towards the Daristinian soldier, providing some covering fire with his shotgun. "You okay, young man?" he asked, firing a blast at a charging ghoul that had been aiming for Sebastien.

 

[Infab]

Riberta and Cassandra had waded halfway through the room, caught between the long outer tables and the center room length one as they continued their killing spree. By this point, Cassandra was audibly laughing. She hadn't cut loose like this in quite a long time, and was taking every chance she could to revel in the carnage. Maybe it would work some of that madness out of her system. She didn't know, but it wouldn't hurt to try. She focused primarily on the vampires, which were the only creatures in the room actually able to pose a proper threat to her. They, of course, returned the favor. She was a pureblood, and a high value target.

Riberta, on the other side, focused more on the more rabid foes in the room: the ghouls. Mindless carnivores. Failed vampires. They deserved to be put down just as much as the vampires. She'd leave the thralls to Rebecca, whom was combating several of them in melee some distance behind her. She glanced back only once, to see if she needed any help, but the woman was in her element here. The saint's longsword was cleaving through air, flesh, and bone with each swing, as the thralls opted for melee weapons as they closed the distance. Swords of their own, along with axes and polearms gathered up from the castle's environs.

Doors on either side of the room had begun to open, as well as a larger set at the end of the hall. More undead, and their thralls. Gunshots continued to ring out, along with screams of pain and death. This was just as Cassandra had said before the fighting started: a mess. The group also seemed to have been encircled, as they moved into the room. They couldn't fall back outside the main entrance. They'd have to simply kill everything here if they were going to proceed onward. Some of the newly arriving thralls had also noticed Xiaòzhou above, so they began to take shots at the hermit using rifles fitted with scopes and aperture sights. It wasn't long before the group began to hear friendlies start to go down. Some of the Konstantinovs had been overwhelmed, mostly by opposing vampires ganging up on them. One was ripped limb from limb, another was beheaded with an axe. One was even shot to death by a pump-action shotgun that one of the thralls had procured.

The group needed to fight harder, or they'd likely perish here.

​

Some of the group then bore witness to Riberta beginning to shapeshift. She was being overwhelmed by ghouls, whom were jumping onto her and ripping chunks of her armor off. Teeth sank into flesh, blood drawn and flowing from the hybrid's form. But all the while, she grew larger and larger. Jet black fur sprouted from her body, as her form shifted into something more bestial. Soon enough, the massive alpha werewolf form of Riberta began to sow death and destruction as she let out a terrifying roar. Ghouls were ripped in half, splattered against walls and pillars, spiked against the tables and stone floor, stomped and crushed underfoot. Claws and teeth came into play, tearing anything within range to pieces.

Cassandra's laughter began to die down in the chaos, as she used her sword then her bare hands to kill any vampires that tried to take her on. The time had come to get serious. Her incredible speed began to engage, snapping through six vampires closing in on her in a flash. One had their head twisted completely off, another had their heart ripped out of their chest. She had shattered a chair leg and staked two of them with split shards. One of the two remaining managed to catch her from behind as she staked the fourth, jumping onto her back and sinking their fangs into her neck in an effort to rip her throat out.

She groaned as she stumbled around, trying to get the man off. Eventually, she would manage to get a good hold on him with her hands. With one sharp jerk, she ripped him off and flung him into the right center pillar nearby. As he slammed into it, she would rush towards him and deliver a pulverizing dropkick into his chest. The impact actually forced a crack to run up the pillar, as the vampire's chest was caved in from the blow. The final vampire rushed her afterwards with a blade, but a swift roll to the side allowed her to dodge his downward swing. A swing of her legs tripped him, and with a burst of speed, she would find herself back upright just in time to deliver a head splattering curb-stomp to her foe.

More thralls continued to rush the Saint behind the pair of vampires, as she cut down any that opposed her with her longsword. Blood stained her armor and hair, as she twirled the sword around and cleaved heads from shoulders or pierced chests and stomachs. One thrall, however, would prove to be a particularly interesting fight. As he approached, she recognized that he wore the garb of the old Order. Velin's Order, which had been disbanded. In his hands, a longsword. It appeared he wished to duel her, as the other thralls held their positons around her.

Rebecca's eyes widened. Another oathbreaker? He must have been enthralled in the past few years. As he moved in and took up a fighting stance, she narrowed her eyes and set her shield down on the floor before taking her own stance. If he wanted a duel, she'd give him one. Their swords rested on their shoulders, both hands firmy gripping the hilt as they carefully moved towards one another.

He would be the first to make his move, twirling is sword and lunging forwards in an effort to swing it up from the outside to hit her across the side of her head where her bad eye was. She snapped her sword up to deflect it, using her off hand to brace the blade as the sword clashed with a loud clack. She'd then slide her own blade down the length of his, the tip of her sword catching his handguard before she jerked the sword clean from his hands with a sharp twist. As it fell to the floor, she would grip the blade of her own sword, attempting to drive the point of her weapon into his head. He was prepared however, reaching up and grabbing the blade with both hands and pulling it from her grip as she moved forward.

The sword twirled about in his grip, as he prepared to use her own weapon against her. An overhead chop followed, but she managed to step to the side and slip her arm underneath into his right armpit. She'd twirl him around as he finished following through with his chop, her hand sliding across till she managed to simply throw him to the ground with a snap hip toss. However, she still held onto his arm. With a sharp jerk, she dislocated it at the shoulder before releasing and stepping back to get her sword from the ground.

The knight was visibly fuming, his arm now useless as he struggled to get back to his feet. She moved around him, shifting back into the stance she had before. Her sword rested on her shoulder, both hands gripping the hilt. He soon had his sword, and their duel resumed in an instant. He rushed her, swinging his sword again towards the bad side of her face. She slapped it aside with her own blade, before rushing in and wrapping her arms around his waist. She lifted up quickly, forcing him into the air off his feet, before body slamming him into the nearby table. The sudden impact shattered the table, forcing them both to go through it.

She was on her feet again in mere moments, moving around to where his head was. A second later, she would drive her blade's point downward. Straight through his exposed throat. As he choked on his own blood, she would withdraw her blade and look to the other thralls. Breathing a simple tired sigh, she motioned with her off hand for them to approach. It was time to continue the slaughter.

Another friendly would go down a few moments later, though closer back to the entrance. Billy, focusing too much on picking off targets from afar, didn't notice the trio of ghouls approaching him from his flank until it was too late. As he spun around to shoot them, they jumped him. Forced to the ground, they would begin to sink their sharp fangs into his flesh. Tearing skin and muscle from his form as they tried to consume him. In a panic, he managed to shoot and kill two of them, but it was no use. More rushed in to dine on him before he could get the last one off.

Both Sheila and Marcus bore witness to Billy's downfall, shouting "NO! BILLY!" in unison. Marcus would attemp to save him, pushing and shooting through thralls and ghouls on his way to his friend. However, he wouldn't make it. A blast of buckshot from the same thrall that had killed a Konstantinov caught him across his side, forcing him to spin and hit the floor halfway there.

 

[Dmaster]

The huntress was both tunnel visioned on her own battle yet taking glimpses of the battlefield as a whole whenever possible, a strange sense of being utterly overwhelmed while possessing razor sharp focus. Despite her practiced sword strokes and acrobatics, there seemed to be no end to their foes and though Camille remained as confident in her abilities as ever, she was still merely human. Even her honed endurance was beginning to fail her as she found herself panting, having to take slowed steps to conserve energy and fill her lungs with precious air before another strike.

In these moments of vulnerability, she took glancing swipes from ghoul claws or slashes from the bladed weaponry of thralls. A shot rang out and she found herself shot in the back by someone, causing her to lose balance and fall to the ground momentarily. Despite the mounting pain that she was experiencing, she took a deep and full breath as means to make sure she was not lung-shot, and despite the ragged draw from her pained body it seemed that whatever injury she just suffered was not to anything vital. Shakily Camille rose to her feet and took stock of the situation in a micro second, hearing the sounds of carnage and friendly casualties increasing around her, muffled from the pressure in her ears from the pain she had to keep mentally dulling.

"Y-You... this... it poses no challenge to me," she rasped as she tightened her grip on her blades. A vampire rushed for her, fangs bared as it aimed to complete a grapple and tear out her throat. Camille sidestepped at the last possible moment, twirling both sabers for a quick decapitation. More ghouls grabbed for her, and they quickly lost their arms before she spun about and kicked them away. "I... won't die here. N-Not when there are those that s-still need me."

Another shot rang out, though this time she spotted the shooter taking aim and evaded just in time. Before they even had a chance to sickle their bolt she loosed a dagger that sailed across the room and plunged itself into their throat. The rifle fell to the ground with a clatter as the wielder doubled over, allowing Camille to cleave through another set of ghouls on either side of her. From directly ahead, a vampire flung himself at her, but the huntress leapt and struck him with her knee and then her blades as he fell to the ground.

"I will kill your vain and cruel puppet master, and I will see my family again!" Camille roared, staking the vampire through the heart with a fluid motion before she got back up again. Despite all of her efforts, she was completely surrounded again and out of breath. "I-I... have conquered... endured... far worse than all of you..." With those parting words, she rose her swords again as they closed in.

 

[EdwardDewey98]

When Jakob and the others saw Billy fall to the ground, ghouls gnawing at his flesh, their first instinct was to charge towards him and save him. By doing so, however, Marcus was shot and severely injured by a thrall's shotgun. Upon seeing her partner get hit, Sheila let out a enraged shout as she fired her coach gun at the thrall. The buckshot ripped through him, putting large holes through his torso. She then darted towards Marcus, while Jakob ran towards Billy.

Jakob shot the ghouls still on his friend as he arrived, shoving the bodies off afterwards. "Billy!" he shouted as he kneeled next to his fellow southerner. Sadly, it was too late. Billy had already passed from the shock and blood loss. Jakob got back up slowly, his eyes now looking to Sheila as she held the wounded Marcus. A Konstantinov covered them as she tried to stop the bleeding.

Seeing his people being injured brought back memories. Terrible memories. He wasn't going to let his squad die on him. He placed both pistols on the ground next to Billy before shedding his coat and hat. "You motherfuckers are gonna PAY for what you've done!" he spat, before charging into the mass of undead. He killed two ghouls with his fists alone, before he began to shift. Jakob, now in his werewolf form, began to target anything he could get his hands on. Tearing every one of these evil bloodsuckers apart with his claws.

As the Konstantinov kept the ghouls at bay, Sheila tried her best to apply her limited medical knowledge to try and save Marcus, who began to cough up blood. "O-one mistake is... a-all it takes, huh?" he said with a bloody grin.

"Shut yer gob Marky! I'm draggin' ye outta here!" she said, holding a bloodied cloth on her partners guts. Despite all her attempts, however, she knew Marcus was too wounded to be saved here.

"N-no... no need to lie Sheila, I... It a-ain't like you... y-you are the bearcat of the two, big six." he managed to get out.

Sheila gritted her teeth as she pressed the bloodied bandage on Marcus' stomach. "Marcus, stop." she muttered. She had seen too many of her brothers die in the Tsavanian wars. She couldn't cry even if she wanted to. But Marcus had been her friend even before the two worked for the Agency.

"J...Just.... f-feed m-my cats for me, will you g-girl?" he asked with a pleasant smile, before pressing the handle of his pistol to her chest.

Sheila was about to speak when Marcus' eyes lost their color. His head slumped. The Low Highlander shed a tear as she closed her partners eyes, before taking his other pistol in hand. The kind assassin that had been covering her had locked swords with another vampire, and it looked like she was about to be overwhelmed by her rival's strength. That was until Sheila shot the bloodsucker in the chest, allowing the Konstantinov to quickly kill the stunned vampire.

She then watched as Sheila walked over towards Billy's body, grabbing his rifle and checking to see if it was still loaded. Then she turned and opened fire on the rest of the undead. "ÍOCFAIDH SIBH A MHATHAR AS SEO GO LEIR!" she shouted in her mother tongue, as she kept firing at the monsters. She even killed a few that were moving towards the other hunters.

 

[Emperor Sagan]

Present day....

The Earth trembled, but only for a moment. Aleister looked up from the pages of the penny novel he had been reading and focused on the frigid, stone wall before him, as if his gaze could penetrate the ancient stone wrought by hands long gone to time. Dust trickled from the imperfect edges, and a cobweb drifted down from the drafty, tall ceiling. Another second or two, there was gunfire - a lot of it. It had finally begun.

It was no easy feat to gain entry into the castle, though it hadn't been particularly difficult, either. A combination of evasion and subterfuge had earned him a safe stay in a small out-of-the-way chamber that stored old scrolls on near-petrified wooden shelves, the parchments faded and eaten away. Another singular vampire in this nest of vermin raised no questions at all, if he had even been properly sensed in the first place. His disdain was too great to be hidden behind theatrics anymore. Long ago, perhaps he could have entertained himself by wandering amongst the demented guests, but his heart was no longer in such things. Had any of them the gall to look into his eyes, they would only see the fathomless depths of his contempt for them there and surely the play would be finished. How had he managed to do it among mortals so long ago? It was difficult to say. Naivety was one answer. Strength was another.

With the sounds of combat growing ever louder even in this distant, lonely place, Aleister thumbed the page of his penny novel and tucked it away into his satchel. An adventurous book, it was the story of some forsaken mariner chasing monstrous whales in a magical land and a cursed sea. He had seen stranger to know that such adventures were no longer the impossible, though he would preferably avoid cursing the dark oceans any time soon lest he draw the ire of some watery beast at the bottom.

Growling and footsteps ran past his hidden chamber, causing him to pause, though once they were gone he returned to his work. Upon the table before him was a new age rifle that fired five rounds without needing to handle the bolt, like a double action revolver or the newer semi-automatic contraptions. Rather than using a clip, the rounds were fed by neat little boxes, which he carried plenty of. Indeed, his satchel was almost entirely ammunition, bullets silvered for this very trip. It was probably a small fortune by that alone. His old traveling revolver was resting with care at his side, opposite a wide-bladed knife that had likewise been forged with silver. So much around him made his skin tingle somewhat, as if he was near those electrical wires that were becoming more common, but it was easy enough to ignore.

Rifle in hand, Aleister departed the chamber with little fanfare, his eyes, ears, and senses attuned to more distant things. The fight ahead was more intense than he expected. It sounded as if a small war had suddenly erupted within the walls of this ancient castle. In some ways, that was true. There was more than enough vermin here to be put down that an entire platoon of soldiers would have their hands full for many, many hours.

A vampire appeared at the far end of the corridor, moving quickly and spotting him with pin-prick eyes. Blood from their feast still stained their lips, ruining the front of a shirt that was ruffled and torn, as if their meal hadn't even been dead yet. "Intruders in the grand hall!" It hissed, nearly slurring from its drunkenness on over-indulging in blood. "We must move quickly to repel them!"

Aleister didn't slow his leisurely stride. Raising his rifle, he fired once, blowing out the creature's heart in a single well-aimed shot. "Wrong play, my dear," he murmured, stepping past the corpse. They were the first person he had killed in years, though some would argue he had done so since his time back in Atraca. All the fool, them.

With the scent of blood already thick in the air to the point of being nauseating, Aleister watched a gaggle of monstrosities rush down the next hall and pour into the chamber where the combat had started in earnest. No one spared him a second glance as he walked in a moment later behind them, keeping back and always moving, though not in a way to give himself away. It was like gardening, in a way. From one pillar to the next, Aleister raised his rifle, fired off a singular shot at distant vampiric marksman or those deeming themselves fit to give orders from the back of the hall, and kept moving. Steady, neither too fast or slow. Fire once, fire twice, fire thrice. His somber black suit and bowler cap, which kept his graceful hair held up in a pin to not get dirty, almost marked him as an unseen specter that belonged to neither side, a shadow of the castle which had come to life to expel those which had disturbed its peace.

In the hectic din of the fight, Aleister had managed to reload without even being noted as an enemy until a pair of thralls stared back at him in confusion and dismay, uncertain of what to make of what they were seeing. Aleister shot them, too, and more eyes began to fall upon him. Some screeched, others shouted, some merely sprinted towards him with ghoulish determination. With a thin smile, Aleister reloaded his rifle again and took aim. "Come dance with me, if you wish. You'll be left breathless one way or another."

 

[joshuadim]

Azathor turned his gaze behind towards Constatine as the two continued to unleash bullets towards the encroaching swarms of ghouls and thralls that seemed to be neverending. After felling another ghoul with two well placed shots, Azathor twirled his guns for a reload: "...I've heard about it. Though, I've never seen it in action." he commented as he slammed new magazines into his pistols. But no matter how much the two continued to unload their barrages onto the enemy, more seemed to stream through into the fray. Gritting his teeth, Azathor was getting frustrated by the fact that all of them collectively seemed to not be able to put a halt to this tide of bodies.

"Fucking... how many of them ARE there!?" Azathor shouted to no one in particular, "I can't possibly feed all of you these bullets!"

He only managed to briefly acknowledge another newcomer who seemed to be on their side, another vampire by the looks of things, though his fighting alone didn't seem to do enough either to change their odds. There was also the matter of Jakob turning into a werewolf, which was cause for concern if he should charge recklessly into the horde and get himself killed. They already lost one of the accompanying detectives, they couldn't possibly lose more without it becoming disastrous. Twirling his guns again for an other reload when there was just enough space to allow for it, Azathor shouted back to Constantine: "Alright, if you're sure about it then lets do it!"

 

[Breadman]

"You got it!" Constantine planted another bullet between the eyes of thrall that was running towards him. "Now..how does it go? Powers of the Abyss...I gladly give my strength to his majesty in this hour of need...Gods damn it!" Nothing seemed to be happening. Frustrated, he pulled the trigger on another ghoul "Don't tell me that malarkey only works if we're from the same plane." Another shot rang out. "Figures that..." He was interupted when he noticed his right hand was glowing. "Right, should have known. We have to shake on it to close the deal." The cowboy shot another ghoul in the knee, forcing it down and tripping the two others behind him. He tapped Azathor on the shoulder so he'd turn around. "Shake an old sinner's hand?" He said as he offered his hand. The demon prince would accept.

Constantine felt the force of his essence leave his phisical form and transfer itself to Azathor. The process was near instant and surprisingly painless as far as Abyssall rituals go. When he oppened his eyes, the first thing he noticed was that he had moved. Now 'standing' over Azathor's shoulder. The second thing he noticed was that he was more transparent. Almost like a ghost and that his lower half was practically gone. 'Right. Out of body experience.' The third thing he noticed was Azathor's slight change in appearance. 'This will take some getting used to.' His thoughts were begining to organize themselves properly as he got used to his current state and soon enough he could feel just what parts of him were transfered to Azathor. Constantine grinned. This was going to be fun.

 

[joshuadim]

Azathor shuddered when he felt Constantine merge for the time being, though the feeling soon passed as he felt himself elevated to a greater level. The sudden transfusion between the two caused enough of a ruckus that it forced the thralls that were charging back, confused as to what had just happened. While Azathor's pistols remained, they had merged with Constantine's revolvers to now shoot abyssal energy rather than bullets. There was also the matter of the cowboy hat that new rested atop the demon prince's head, oozing with energy that drifted gently off its edges like smoke. And in addition, a coin pouch rested on his hip now with its contents eager to be released.

"Huh... guess this is how it works." Azathor commented, twirling his updated pistols as his eyes scanned nearby; his senses, although already sharp, had become even greater than before. It seemed as though he could calculate where the enemy would be as they were in motion, perfectly eyeing a trajectory for his shots to fire. He had the eyes and intuition of a true gunslinger now, and he was more than ready to put it to use alongside his own innate abilities. "Let's see how far we can take this!" Azathor shouted to an immaterial Constantine before leaping high into the air.

​

Twirling like a bullet himself, Azathor let loose a flurry of projectiles as he spun in the air. Every single one seemed to strike dead on to their targets, felling them with ease as their bodies crumpled with holes in their heads. Landing with a knee touching the ground, the demon prince would then dramatically spin around and continue to fire around him. More thralls and ghouls were felled in the onslaught, before Azathor quickly twirled his pistols. The energies within, sensing the need to recharge, hissed and grew more intense before coming to a halt while a ghoul was kicked in the chest and sent tumbling into two of its compatriots nearby.

It was then that he dug a hand into his pouch and threw up several gold coins into the air. Time slowed to a crawl in his point of view as his vision narrowed. He took into account their velocity, their direction, their rotation, and their positions... until they aligned perfectly. Bringing a pistol upwards, Azathor fired a single shot that burst through the skull of a thrall. It then ricocheted off the first coin with perfect accuracy and made its way to the next cranium. Within the span of a second, this process repeated until all the coins had been used and multiple additional corpses lay strewn on the ground.

He could also feel something emanate from the hat crowning his head, indicating that it too had a role to play in all this. And so, grabbing it by its edge, he flung it towards a nearby vampire and forced its presence. He looked in confusion and tried to pry it off but to no avail, as if it had clawed its way into his head. A deathly red aura eminated from his body because of this parasitic relationship, signalling that his essence was being drawn out. Azathor took the cue and focused a barrage of shots onto the vampire, riddling him with holes until a final shot ended him. But he did not die like the others. His skin turned grey then black before cracking and collapsing, and his body turned to dust. And from it, the red essence that had been around him now streamed into Azathor's pistol and in turn he felt their capacity refill. The hat turned his essence into energy that flooded into the guns as additional ammo.

The cowboy hat flipped back onto Azathor's hat like a clingy cat, satisfied with its "meal", before a strange sensation filled the demon prince. Constantine would feel much the same, though in a more intense manner as he felt his current habitation slip away. It seemed this effect was only temporary, and they had limited time. And many enemies remained still, as others were being attacked still. And so, Azathor put all that remaining power into one last shot that would give some breathing room to his allies. Lowering the gun to his side, he took a deep breath and drowned out the world's noise so as to make that one last determination. He couldn't afford to miss this one, and so he then flung it up sideways and - with a flick of his wrist - fired.

The hell-bullet travelled in an arc around the room, first striking a ghoul that was sneaking behind Rebecca to bite her in the neck. Its trajectory continued through its flesh, finding its mark to a vampire that had planned on avenging its fallen comrade with a rifle shot and she too fell to the ground lifeless. It then arced its way over to where Sebastian was, and felled a thrall that was charging at his flank. Its final destination was a vampire near Jakob, who had been planning to drive a blade into his neck. But instead, he now found himself clutching at a gaping wound before collapsing to the ground.

In that final moment, both Constantine and Azathor separated again and the former was reunited with his hat and energies while the latter returned to normal. Azathor gave a smirk off to Constantine, before returning his attention to a nearby thrall that charged at him. He drew his sword and bisected it clean down the middle with a strong downwards strike, leaving it a bloody mess on the floor. "HOW MANY MORE OF YOU ARE THERE!?" Azathor shouted in annoyance.

 

[Damian0358]

Xiaòzhou grimaced as the battle continued. While it was obvious that they would be facing a horde, the ongoing scale seemed to be greater than expected. While it wasn't too difficult to keep track of everyone in the group, the overwhelming amount of vampires, ghouls, thralls, etc. turned the fight into a dense pit of overlapping auras, and any attempts at his end to thin out the enemy's numbers with his danmaku only allowed more to bleed in like an festering wound, all while having to try and concentrate on who might need help most, whether offensively or defensively.

Before the hermit knew it however, his place in all this had been noted, and he was forced to get into cover after nearly getting shot in the head with a scoped rifle, pinning him down long enough to prevent him from aiding Billy, Marcus and some of the Konstantinovs. Some of the pressure on him would be relieved as he sensed a newcomer appearing from out of the blue shooting at some of the marksmen, and the combination maneuver Azathor and Constantine pulled off resulted in a vampire making their way to his location got shot in the crossfire, allowing him the opportunity to move in and aid. He continued his more passive danmaku attacks, not allowing that pressure to let up, but it was clear now that he had to jump in physically too.

With his staff out, the oni began bashing in skulls, to those that were trying to get in his way from earlier, but also those attempting to approach Sebastian, Jakob and co. - only giving them a knowing nod - as he moved in to make sure they all weren't completely surrounded. They can't spare wasting energy like this, not when they don't know what else could be hiding here.