[Nexus] Outside XXIX

[ThirdEmperor]

Field of Battle

Well, there's no way I'd manage to transcribe what befalls Prometheus in the space of the next, shall we say, two seconds in any sort of detail without it ending up as a jumbled mess of adverbs and commas, so here's the short version;

First, as lightning moves faster than pretty much anything else, Prometheus gets zapped by friendly fire, two bolts of lightning drawn by the highly conductive surface of his ruined wings slamming dead into his back. This, aside from melting his armor and a considerable portion of his skin, has the lucky side effect of throwing the towering technowarrior forward, nearly managing to toss him out of the incoming MagDoken's path.

Nearly.

Rather than hitting Prometheus's center of mass, snapping his spine and crushing every organ in his body, the ballistic cyborg lands merely a glancing strike... Which is still pretty damn damaging, considering Maggie was moving at Mach 1 speeds. Ribs crack, blood vessels burst, flesh and bone are pulverized and shoulders literally disjointed, reducing the entire right hand side of Prometheus's torso to a mangled, bloody mess and rather definitively putting him out of the fight.

Doesn't kill him though. Nope, he's not that lucky. Hell, he can't even properly go into shock, so he's stilly barely conscious and aware of every milli-second of agonizing pain throughout the whole ordeal, up until the explosion hits him like a freight train and knocks him out like a light, searing flesh and armor together into a melted, bloody mess and frying more nerves than a normal human even has....

And yet he still isn't dead. Yet. Barely. His hearts stopped, making the end all but inevitable, although considering how much blood he's lost it wasn't really doing much anyway. Most of his muscles and many a neural synapse destroyed, oxygen slowly running out. And so he lies on the ground, bleeding pretty much stopped by the cauterization of nearly his entire epidermal skin layer, all inner workings focused on keeping his brain alive and relatively undamaged for as long as they can and leaving the rest of the body to rot.

Honestly, at this rate he'd be better of dying and letting Cyrus rez him.

Outside the Battlefield

Well, Kal might be able to break through the teleport blocking field Maybe. But due to the way Excelsior anti-teleport devices work, if he does, the first one or two clockwork mechanicals to be ported in will arrive in a whole lot of very small pieces.

"We are not backup. We are medics. We are non-combatants." Is the joint reply of the battlemages to Kal's scurrilous accusations. "The commander is out of action, if Magtok has died, Gordon and Prometheus are the winners. Otherwise, you have violated the rules by summoning your own troops to aid Ilpholin and Magtok, therefor they have lost. Either way, the match has ended. Is this acknowledged?" Oh, hey, if anyone can see magic they might note the mages are getting ready to cast something.

[orb_of_blood]

[Mountainside - Dragon cave]

[Mountainside - Dragon Cave]

Saer nodded and looked as though he was offering up his arm when he made it into a single, pointed finger. "One thing more. Well, actually two."

Truly, the bargain was not a difficult one to strike as it was how he treated all his girls anyway. But..."If she goes back under your ownership, for any reason, be it violation of this agreement or otherwise, she maintains her soul." He paused and considered. "...Also, I'd appreciate your word that this blood promise business will only link me to you in this oath and in no other way. I don't have a soul to steal, but I wouldn't trust you with one of my toenails." He gave a small bow with his head. "No offense meant."

Really, Nixa's soul shouldn't have mattered that much to him, except that he'd seen what happened to them on his own homeland when they were promised away. "Are we agreed?"

Still, why should he care whether she owned it or not?

Well...he'd ponder that later. It made him uncomfortable to consider it with any depth in the moment.

((Sleepy times. Nunite!))

Draaxar has to stop himself from biting at the outstretched finger as he had been ready to draw blood for the spell. Something tells him slicing bits off the demon would end the negotiations...

The dragon attempts to answer both questions in one go. I don't harm people. Or, he'd let her keep the soul and the spell wouldn't bind Saer in any other way.

Buuut a small whimper from the corner reminds him that his guest is in dire need of healing, and he revises his comment. I don't hurt people on purpose.

Wait, that's not true either. He destroyed a city once to show Vivilandra how to breath fire. Hmmm, he changes the sentence one last time. I don't usually hurt people on purpose.

Although he doesn't mention the rather nasty side-effects the spell can produce. Burning, itching, scarring, high chances of infection, weakness for a few days... but he didn't ask about those, so Draaxar 'forgets' to mention them.

[kitcatk8]

[Mountainside - Dragon Cave]

The demon made a quiet, discontent noise and and shook his head. "You and I both know that that is a less than sufficient answer to the question. If you wish me to make my promise aloud with such precision, I believe I'm due the same courtesy."

As for the side effects of the spell, other than it binding him in some other unbreakable way to Draaxar, he wasn't concerned. This dragon was a true creature of fire and so was Saer. Their magic and power was cut from the same cloth. Oh, he didn't think it would be pleasant, to be sure, but he was also Pride. No just pride, but Pride. And it shown in every nuance of this demon. That wasn't to say it didn't come and bite him in the ass every once in a while, but he'd always survived.

[orb_of_blood]

[Mountainside - Dragon cave]

A quiet rumble sounds from the dragon's throat, a clear sign that he's growing irritated with Saer. He even bares his teeth a little, but it's just a small gesture of annoyance, and he tells the demon what he wants to hear in a heavy sigh, I was going to let Nixa have her soul back soon enough anyways, so that needn't concern you. And the spell is cast with one specific promise in mind. It only truly concerns me if it is broken.

Draaxar pauses then, thinking. If you two aren't at each others throats this time next week I shall be very surprised. Yes, what with their personalities matching so perfectly, they'd probably irritate one another very quickly indeed.

[kitcatk8]

[Mountainside - Dragon Cave]

The demon nodded once to Draaxar's first sentence. That would do. Then to his second, he chuckled quietly. "I'm counting on it." He paused, looking like he was about ready to repeat the promise aloud, then suddenly pushed out a quiet laugh as a new thought occurred to him, and he muttered, more to himself than to the dragon, but such that the dragon could hear, "I have a feeling she is, too."

Clearing his throat, Saer held up his arm and recited clearly, "In exchange for Nixa's freedom and soul returned to her indefinitely starting today, I promise no irreparable harm to her which is in my power to prevent as well as to provide you with a new apprentice within the month."

[orb_of_blood]

[Mountainside - Dragon's cave]

Good enough. The blood spell begins then. Draaxar leans his head forward and opens his jaws, snapping at one of Saer's arms, that I presume he's offered to the dragon.

The jagged teeth slide over his arm, tearing off the flesh and causing blood to splash to the ground. As the dragon exhales, blistering heat crosses the wound. Even though it probably doesn't hurt the demon, it's likely to cause infection.

As the blood (and I'm presuming the demon is bleeding here) begins to run, Draaxar thunders a spell which is so loud the draconic words are completely incomprehensible, shaking the cavern.

GAARAKK THOEMORNIEL TAMIRIS NAMEARY!

For an unsettling moment it almost seems as though the mountain will collapse in on them, but then the shaking ends, and the cave still stands.

All spilt blood begins to glow brightly and twist together to form a bright orb, which then splits into two smaller orbs. One for Draaxar to keep, one for Saer. One broken is an end to the agreement, the dragon hisses, gently pulling his away with his tail. As for Saer's arm, well, nothing happens to end the bleeding or heal the wound.

((All actions are, of course, attempted only.))

[kitcatk8]

[Mountainside - Dragon Cave]

As the dragon's jaws come crunching down on Saer's arm, the demon snarls and balls his hand into a fist, but doesn't jerk back.

What followed were some of the oddest combination of sensations the demon had the luxury of experiencing.

Fire, heat of any kind, is life and healing to the Daemoenica, of which Saer was the First. To have his arm ripped in shreds and then poured with heat led his skin to trying to decide between agonizing pain and blessed healing of that same slaughtered flesh. And oh, yes, he did bleed, even as the skin fought to knit back together. Thick red liquid as hot as Draaxar's outsides. As the dragon's hide scalded all normal flesh which touched it, so Saer's blood did the same. To the dragon, it might have tasted like a luke-warm beverage.

Draaxar bellowed his spell, and Saer pulled back to rest his hip against the stalagmite he was using earlier, wincing and curling his injured arm into his torso.

While his face did show pain with his bared teeth and harsh breathing, he also found it in him to sigh just as bit as he looked at his arm. And not because of the arm. Well...there goes that shirt. And the pain shifted into something more...wry.

He'd not been expecting the dragon to heal the wound. That, he was quite capable of doing himself. He tended to prefer a fire to get the job done. It was quicker, but the bleeding needed to be quelled.

Curling his good hand over the wreck of his arm, right next to the elbow, the demon growled, then hissed as he used his own heat reserves to push power into the flesh, focusing it, draining it from his core and aiming it towards the torn flesh. The blood bubbled, turned black and flaked away from the skin. What was left of the shirt caught fire momentarily as he slid his palm down the mangled arm. He got all the way to the wrist, where the last of the wound was, and then released his hold.

Along his usually pale, muscled arm, the veins could be seen clearly, blue/black, coursing through. They itched and ached, bringing him discomfort every time he used the muscles, and also weakened that arm considerably. He growled, a bit darker, and shot the dragon a look which was none too happy. One which, if he could have used today's terms, would have clearly said, You're a ****. Saer was not prone to infections. But it appeared the aftereffect of the blood promise was not a pleasant one and would be with him for at least a week.

Shaking his head and standing, Saer bent to retrieve the orb (with his good, right arm) which the dragon had indicated. So far as Saer was concerned, he had nothing left to say, but he glanced back up at Draaxar anyway and offered a short, arrogant salute. "To never seeing you again."

And, if the dragon had nothing more to add, the demon would be on his way.

[orb_of_blood]

[Mountainside - Dragon cave]

Draaxar has nothing more to add then a low growl. He turns to let him go, receding back into the cave and smacking his lips. What an odd and rather unpleasant taste. It was making him rather hungry...

The woman screams as Saer turns to leave. Realising that he's not listening to her, she makes a break for the cave entrance, but Draaxar's tail reaches her before she makes it even close to the exit and drags her backwards. There's a loud CRUNCH! and then the screaming promptly stops for good.

Damn, that's irritating. Another low growl chases the demon from the cave. This one is slightly clearer. Draaxar appears to be laughing a little. He may incredibly irritated at the loss of both his apprentice and his guest, but he still finds it amusing that the demon left without knowing of the Control Word's existence. Ah, pity. Vivilandra's very hard to control without it... He almost wishes he'd have some way of watching them. The next few weeks ought to prove very difficult...

[ThirdEmperor]

Grendar starts his way over to Sleet. He's obscured in the charging slaves, as he's stalking her, crouched and moving in the flow on all fours. As for Kale, well, he wasn't told anything about the elf, and will therefore probably ignore him.

"Hey! What tha heck Sleet, get the-" Kale shouts indignantly, protests which stop abruptly as he sees the arrows bury themselves in the ground a mere handful of feet away. "Oh. Thanks."

Assuming Sleet doesn't keep him pinned to the ground Kale will struggle back to his feet, likely just in time to meet the rush of oncoming slaves.

[orb_of_blood]

[Outside Trog's Tavern]
((I'm not going to quote everyone since I'm fairly sure you all know what you posted and it takes up a lot of space))

Drift, who had been quite busy trying to inconspicuously skirt the battle, gives Chez an angry glare. But Chez is a giant wolfman with frankly alarmingly huge muscles, and so would rather not have him turn on him in the middle of all this. So he draws the glowing green longsword and hesitates a second further. Damn, he knew everyone here...

Then the rush of slaves meet the group. The first few are knocked down by AM4s energy blast, and really they look as though they're going to be out for a while. But there are still more, and they attack. Granted mos of the attacks are a little hesitant and about half will be purposely aimed high or to the side, even despite the offered time off. For the most part, the slaves are not evil. ((In case it's lost, they are mostly attacking AM4, and a couple are at Chez and Kale as well))

From the swarm a shifting grey mass is visible for a fraction of a second, as Grendar continues to stalk his prey. Oh wait.... two elves? He watches his target, Sleet, release the other elf, the larger one who reeks of alcohol. Well... Kordak never said anything about him, and Kordak is the boss, but maybe he ought to take out both? Yes, that seems reasonable. From the mass of slaves he leaps, aiming a strong clout from a massive clawed paw at Kale's chest, snapping at his face with huge jaws.

Slightly to the side, another battle ensues. This one involves a lizardfolk who's trying to make her way over to Talinassa, dodging the chains for the second time. How annoying, they didn't seem to be giving up! As for the man who's already been caught, he's dragged backward, leaving a rather horrifying streak of bright crimson behind him. He's screaming in shock and pain, and this is causing the other three (two still behind the shielding spell) to run towards Talinassa a little faster, intent on not getting the same treatment themselves.

Also to the side, a burned Marty howls. Well, that was moronic of him! It just drew the attention of a small group of slaves! He probably has time for one last action before they reach him...

As if that wasn't enough, behind the slaves and the group of gnolls who are mostly just watching the scene, Kordak and two of his brothers still stand. Kremiir, hold. Save your spells, I believe we'll need them soon for our own protection. Obediently his brother lowers his hands, and together they all watch the battle in relative silence. Kordak slowly takes out his whip and rests it on his lap, a hand ready to scoop it up if need be.

[Hattish Thing]

Outside Rock

Marty can't walk with his now burnt up foot. Marty observes the slaves running at him. Nya. Not a good situation...Marty has the ring! He used it to teleport himself and Shada! He can use that! Yay! Marty scrambles to activate his ring as his blackened skin going from his foot to his knee throbs painfully. Marty observes the injury and wonders how he got himself into this situation..... Nya...Why am I here when I could be at The Goblin, no, anywhere else.....I wonder if my foot will fall off....Probabaly wouldn't hurt more than it does already....Ow...Marty rises using his gun as a crutch, his leg hurts. Ow. Marty reaches into his pocket and activates the ring after he lets out a pained howl. Marty reappears behind a tree near Drift. Marty leans on said tree. Marty leans there for a minute pathetically before he stands with the assistance of his rifle-crutch. Marty is trying to stay hidden and be quiet. Marty can't walk without his gun. Marty instead takes out a small pistol. Marty fires the pistol at the spellcaster that probably just robbed Marty of a limb. Marty might miss due to him being in great pain. He moans lowly.

Halflings.

Marciano hangs stuck in tree, and Grantaire starts robbing corpses.

[Reinholdt]

[The Glory Fields]

Now I lay me down to sleep,

Through the upper gap in Gordon's claws, a web shoots out, passing Gordon briefly to stick to the forcefield. It yanks hard and Ilpholin whooshes out with a literal pop of something being held under tight pressure, like a cork. Ilpholin's escape is not without its price though. Gordon's claws rip through the demon's arm as she comes out, taking skin off to the bone on one and causing the other to dangle in such a way that just doesn't look right.

I pray to Lolth my soul to keep;

Wait. Wait a second you say. She was unconscious. Shot through the head. Survival is all but impossible. However, Ilpholin is a demon now. A very specific type of demon. A Cuthun Demon. These demons are special in that they can survive quite a bit, including decapitation. And regenerate quite fast as long as they have the energy for it.

And Ilpholin's demonic energy comes from someplace quite predictable. It comes from curtains. Like the ones she spent with Valente, and Devi, and Becky. For days. And days. And days on end. Literally. She turbocharged herself before this fight. It certainly explains why she was moving so fast as to dodge bullets earlier. Also explains why she spontaneously stopped bleeding all over the place earlier, a feat that most people can't do.

If I die before I wake,

Ilpholin clips the web and lands shakily, a little ways from Gordon, standing there as the smoke begins to clear. She looks terrible. You can see her arm bone, that other arm might as well be a leg at how it's hanging there. Her hair is wild and sticking out from the electrical residue. Her mouth looks like that of a spider's and there's a slight space with which to see her brain through that missing eye of hers if one looks real close. Her outfit is barely there and she's caked in blood. But she's standing, and the wounds are closing, her arm fitting itself back into place.

As her eye reforms fully the smoke dissipates entirely, showing Ilpholin still standing. A terrifying, broken, decrepit monster of beauty and death.

I ask to Lolth my soul to take.

Gordon might endure.
Magtok may dazzle.
Prometheus might advance.

Let them.

Ilpholin will surpass.

AMEN.

[ThePhantom]

Fields of Battle

Bravo, Gordon was worried that he was going to have an angry Raril after him after this, but with her recovery, that's not going to be a problem. However, now he has the problem of Ilpholin being back up, and he can't move from where he crashed.

However, that's not a huge problem. Gordon has many skills, his weapons which he used to bring down Magtok's mighty machine, his brute strength that nearly took Ilpholin out of the fight, and now at the last, one of the few things that he can do in dragon form that doesn't require moving very much, his magic.

Of course, Gordon isn't really good at magic, so that limits his opinions a lot. But he does have one spell down well, lightning. Gordon focuses, through that is getting harder as the poisons continue their work, and tries to hit her with with a lightning bolt.

[Ashen Lilies]

[Fields of Let's Just Get This Over With]

Luckily, being in lots of little pieces isn't much of an impediment to Hunter-Killers, which, among other things, have the ability to reconstruct themselves from damage, as long as their animating souls are intact. They aren't, but Kal happens to become quite a few spares in those gauntlets of his. The remaing four Hunter-Killers line up in tight formation behind Kal, ignoring the piles of red cloth and bronze bits left behind by their unfortunate comrades.
"I never witnessed a deal on the part of Magtok and Ilpholin. Besides, these Hunter-Killers and I are here for our own reasons. Reasons that happen to hinge on Gordon and Prometheus not retaining leadership of AMEN, but our own reasons nonetheless." Says Kal, in answer to both Cyrus and the battlemages.
"You, on the other hand, are clearly Prometheus' lackeys, here by his will and his will alone, making you quite explicitly backup of a sort, even if it's only in the form of medicine." Says Kal to the the battlemages.
"But this is irrelevant. For reasons I am just about to point out for you," he continues, turning to Dark Lord and eyeing him balefully, "I think we AMENites should have a say in who we trust to command us, yes?"
He turns back to address everyone again.
"Or did you really think that, even if Gordon and Prometheus won right now, fairly, completely, utterly, that everyone else in this organization who despised them would just sit down and take that? It was a mistake to have the fate of an entire organization hinge solely on some stupid deathmatch. AMEN is not a prize to be won. It is a collaboration of Evil, working towards Evil. I think the fact that we're all standing here now is an excellent indication of how miserably Gordon has failed at holding his position, isn't it? If he were a truly popular and competent leader, Magtok would never have been able to make such a spectacle of trying to overthrow him in the first place. I think we all know that, whatever actually happens down there, this conflict was inevitable, and I, for one, would like to get it over with sooner, rather than later. It's high time that AMEN was an organization again, not a cesspool of rivalries and petty intrigue. Let those four down there make their face play. AMEN's real leadership issues get solved right here, right now. Violently, if need be."

[kitcatk8]

[Several Yards Outside DFI]

Customarily, the demon might roll up his sleeves for a fight such as the one he anticipated.

As it was, the shirt was pretty much useless anyway. He simply pulled what was left of it out of his slacks and shrugged out of it, tossing it aside.

And while no one would argue on the large number of fine male specimens in Nexus, one couldn't overlook how Saer's muscles moved under his alabaster skin. From the temperature of his blood, it might be expected that he'd be darker, or at least redder. As it was, he might as well have been carved out of marble. Not over muscled but not even a little bit thin, he knew he looked good. But again, he hadn't taken off the shirt to prove anything. He had taken it off because it would have gotten in his way. Saer never felt the need to prove himself except under circumstances which called for it. This would be one of them.

He stretched his neck to one side before turning around, pleased to see (I presume) Nixa had followed. Again, he flashed her that arrogant smile. "Your new dress is going to get dirty."

[orb_of_blood]

((well, let's pick a place. Say Alleyway? I don't think they want fights associated with the DFI...))
Alright then: [Alleyway]

Nixa takes a few seconds to sweep her eyes over his body. She's not hiding the almost lustful half-smile, and then she certainly doesn't hide the evil grin when her eyes eventually reach his face.

Not even answering the banter, she begins. Attack when the opponent isn't ready. One of Draaxar's most valuable lessons was 'fight without any sort of honor or you'll be killed', and Nixa seems to have taken that to heart.

Knowing fire won't do much she instead works with ice. She spins her hands together and twirls out a lovely massive snow-ball that speeds towards Saer at a very fast pace. But why stop there? Nixa can do more. The snow turns to ice, hardening, and small crystalline spikes jut along it's edges, razor-sharp. Nixa's looking to deal damage.

Before anyone wonders why a red-dragon girl can use ice spells, keep in mind that she's lived in a very high mountain cave where snow falls year round. She's had plenty of time to practice manipulating the falling snow and ice.

[kitcatk8]

((Works fer me!))

[Alleyway]

It was a good first try, to be sure.

But Saer had been trained against Wrath herself.

The speed at which the ball of ice flew at him did succeed in making his counterattack less focused, which cost him more energy than he would have liked. Even so, the demon snarled and pushed out with his heat, a great cone of it, not visible to the naked eye, but when it touched the icy blast, it half-shattered, half-melted, spraying shards every which way.

The demon shielded his eyes from the more dangerous bits, hissed when one caught him in the ribs and produced a surprisingly clean cut a few inches long. Somehow, it didn't distract from the flawlessness of his chest but instead added to it. Small drips of red blood stained the white of his skin.

But he was ready, now.

He didn't return her wicked grin. He didn't counterattack. Instead, he merely started walking forward.

[orb_of_blood]

[Alleyway]

She'd hoped it would have done a little more, but she hadn't expected it to do very much anyways.

Hiiisstahar! Nixa mutters in draconic, waving a hand. A gigantic wall of ice forms before her. But rather then just standing there as the normal spell would, it promptly proceeds to fall forwards onto the demon, shattering into thousands of small ice spikes flying in all directions except the casters. Well, that ought to give her time to find... she rummages in her bag of holding. Luckily she keeps them very close to the surface, and there are also a lot of them.

She places the larger-than-human skull on the ground before her. And begins to cast the next spell.

Hathuum nerrivon! Whether or not she completes the spell, however, would depend on the speed of Saer and how he deals with the ice wall.

[kitcatk8]

[Alleyway]

As the ice wall started to fall, Saer growled and extended both his hands up, then jerked down harshly, again projecting that element which he held mastery over. The wall of ice was drowned in a wall of fire just as it started to split apart and the spikes began to fly. By the time they hit him, they were just annoying droplets of water with some harmless shards of ice that melted the moment they touched his too-hot skin.

He was purposely being defensive, seeing what it was she was made out of. Truly, he was gauging her, rather than battling her. And while he might not show it, he was impressed by her. He'd have to remember to stroke her ego later, to let her know.

As it was, he took what little time he had to aim another burst of blazing heat into a nearby pile of trash, kindling, and other rubbish -while still walking towards her. It exploded directly to her left with light and flames...but what energy he put into it, he absorbed two-fold with a loud, WHOOOOOOSH and a jerk of his arm against himself. He drank the heat down, energy he'd supplied, and energy he'd transformed by setting the pile afire. In the span of a few seconds, he'd replenished a good amount of the heat to his core he was using against her attacks. Though not all.

The demon continued to advance.

[orb_of_blood]

[Alleyway]

Nixa completes her spell and backs away up the alley a couple dozen steps. It'll provide her with more time. Time for what? Why, more spells of course! Even as her last one begins to work, she's started on her next.

The magic twists around the skull, and it grows very rapidly. The magic provides the skull with a body, and seconds later Nixa has an undead minion that looks like a very shiny smallish bear (with still a skeleton skull), glittering as it moves in the sunlight. On her command it attacks with both claws and a bite thrown in for good measure.

Throomah, she says, the smile returning to her face. It's not one of her greatest spells on hand (as it can only target flame creatures), but it's one she created. The creation of original spells is really hard to do, and Nixa had to work for nearly a week to get the properties of this one correct. It's a fire spell, but rather than directing heat or creating flames, it acts much like the enchantment on her ring, drawing the heat generated by the living creatures in the area other then her. Oh look, Saer's just a bundle of heat, isn't he? Well, this spell is attempting to suck away all of his heat and convert it into energy for her to use at her own wish.

All absorbed heat (unless he has some sort of resistance) shimmies into her, surrounding her for a moment as a fiery red glow that causes her skin to shine a radiant rosy-red. Her hair is thrown back, billowing behind her and for a moment she's an absolute picture of beauty as she absorbs the energy.

[D_Lord]

[Fields of Let's Just Get This Over With]

Spoiler

Show

Luckily, being in lots of little pieces isn't much of an impediment to Hunter-Killers, which, among other things, have the ability to reconstruct themselves from damage, as long as their animating souls are intact. They aren't, but Kal happens to become quite a few spares in those gauntlets of his. The remaing four Hunter-Killers line up in tight formation behind Kal, ignoring the piles of red cloth and bronze bits left behind by their unfortunate comrades.
"I never witnessed a deal on the part of Magtok and Ilpholin. Besides, these Hunter-Killers and I are here for our own reasons. Reasons that happen to hinge on Gordon and Prometheus not retaining leadership of AMEN, but our own reasons nonetheless." Says Kal, in answer to both Cyrus and the battlemages.
"You, on the other hand, are clearly Prometheus' lackeys, here by his will and his will alone, making you quite explicitly backup of a sort, even if it's only in the form of medicine." Says Kal to the the battlemages.
"But this is irrelevant. For reasons I am just about to point out for you," he continues, turning to Dark Lord and eyeing him balefully, "I think we AMENites should have a say in who we trust to command us, yes?"
He turns back to address everyone again.
"Or did you really think that, even if Gordon and Prometheus won right now, fairly, completely, utterly, that everyone else in this organization who despised them would just sit down and take that? It was a mistake to have the fate of an entire organization hinge solely on some stupid deathmatch. AMEN is not a prize to be won. It is a collaboration of Evil, working towards Evil. I think the fact that we're all standing here now is an excellent indication of how miserably Gordon has failed at holding his position, isn't it? If he were a truly popular and competent leader, Magtok would never have been able to make such a spectacle of trying to overthrow him in the first place. I think we all know that, whatever actually happens down there, this conflict was inevitable, and I, for one, would like to get it over with sooner, rather than later. It's high time that AMEN was an organization again, not a cesspool of rivalries and petty intrigue. Let those four down there make their face play. AMEN's real leadership issues get solved right here, right now. Violently, if need be."

Spoiler

Show

Yeeaa, I don't so think so.
Black tentacles pop out the ground behind the Hunter-Killers.
You think Magtok is a competent leader, he fails at that. Being competent isn't the same as a leader. He tried and was leader for a while, and he quit.

Dark Lord walks closers to Kal with the ground behind it going weird.

You forget, that AMEN was always full of rivals. Besided he saved AMEN not you.

[happyturtle]

Ultimate Showdown

Darcy in disguise gasps to see Ilpholin still alive after all of that, and then turns her eyes to Rogar and Prom's battlemages, watching for their move.

Moff 36 looks at Dark Lord. "Aren't you an insane thing from beyond space and time? Since when do you care which mortal is driving the clown car?"

Moff 4 grins at Kal, really really hoping that Kal is planning to install himself as leader and establish a 'Hotties Only' policy, unaware that another set of Moffs have already come up with that idea.

Moff 82 tries to give Zefir a wedgie.

[FireFox]

Ultimate Showdown

Greg is standing next to Darcy, still trying to figure out who he's supporting in the leadership duel. The idea of a second fight breaking out right now just adds more confusion and uncertainty. He's been here all along, hasn't done anything noteworthy, and most likely won't in the future. But if his player keeps posting for him, maybe he won't be forgotten.

[Chezmarine]

[Outside Trog's Tavern]
Drift, who had been quite busy trying to inconspicuously skirt the battle, gives Chez an angry glare. But Chez is a giant wolfman with frankly alarmingly huge muscles, and so would rather not have him turn on him in the middle of all this.

Then the rush of slaves meet the group. The first few are knocked down by AM4s energy blast, and really they look as though they're going to be out for a while. But there are still more, and they attack. Granted mos of the attacks are a little hesitant and about half will be purposely aimed high or to the side, even despite the offered time off. For the most part, the slaves are not evil. ((In case it's lost, they are mostly attacking AM4, and a couple are at Chez and Kale as well))

((What happened to the slaves who took Chez's BOOMSTICK! point-blank?

As for the Slaves? Well, lets see how they like it when the wolf whips out his Side-by-Side sawn off coach gun and gives em both barrels.

In other words, the wolf just shot some scum with his twelve gauge.

))

[Lord Magtok]

Fields of Death

Magtok is a corpse. A burning, speeding, mangled, subsonic, absolute wreck of a corpse. Colliding with Prometheus slowed it down significantly, and I imagine part of it broke off upon impact, but the majority of Magtok is still rocketing through the air, up until it smashes into the forcefield, putting a huge dent and splattery mess in the side of the energy barrier. If there was any doubt about his death before, there definitely shouldn't be any now. Not even Ilpholin would be able to bounce back from that, I think.

Elsewhere, outside the forcefield, Magbots continue to run concessions, and a MagClone in a cheap disguise watches the fight alongside the crowd.

[Hattish Thing]

Field: Outside the Forcfield

Javert stares at Magtok's gory corpse. ......Well. That means Magtok's been mushed to a paste. I guess all that cyber-stuff didn't really help. Then again, he never did seem very helpful to House Baen're. And I don't think that woman on his side is a Baen're.....Magtok did say to start blowing stuff up if he lost. But technically, he hasn't lost...

[kitcatk8]

[Alleyway]

Nixa completes her spell and backs away up the alley a couple dozen steps. It'll provide her with more time. Time for what? Why, more spells of course! Even as her last one begins to work, she's started on her next.

The magic twists around the skull, and it grows very rapidly. The magic provides the skull with a body, and seconds later Nixa has an undead minion that looks like a very shiny smallish bear (with still a skeleton skull), glittering as it moves in the sunlight. On her command it attacks with both claws and a bite thrown in for good measure.

Throomah, she says, the smile returning to her face. It's not one of her greatest spells on hand (as it can only target flame creatures), but it's one she created. The creation of original spells is really hard to do, and Nixa had to work for nearly a week to get the properties of this one correct. It's a fire spell, but rather than directing heat or creating flames, it acts much like the enchantment on her ring, drawing the heat generated by the living creatures in the area other then her. Oh look, Saer's just a bundle of heat, isn't he? Well, this spell is attempting to suck away all of his heat and convert it into energy for her to use at her own wish.

All absorbed heat (unless he has some sort of resistance) shimmies into her, surrounding her for a moment as a fiery red glow that causes her skin to shine a radiant rosy-red. Her hair is thrown back, billowing behind her and for a moment she's an absolute picture of beauty as she absorbs the energy.

[Alleyway]

As the bespelled undead minion approached Saer with teeth and claw, he had it in him to dodge one set of claws, the initial bite, but the second set of claws came raking down at the same time she uttered that spell to pull at his heat. He half-dodged and grabbed at the thing's forearm, taking four of the sharp nails to the shoulder. They were more shallow than they could have been, but still did enough damage to bring a hissing snarl from his bared teeth. And that last spell she uttered pulled at him, fully for an entire second before he leashed it.

Yes, he did have resistance. Because if it had any sort of warmth, it belonged to him, whether it wanted to or not. Saer's abilities were all linked to one and the same power. Flames were his specialty, but she was pulling on his essence, which was fire, the same way he could have tugged at her soul rather than caressed it earlier.

So that tether she held between the two of them, he gripped with the metaphysical power he possessed, not breaking the spell, but holding it, like a frenzied, captured line between the two of them. The air wavered between their bodies with the forces caught in limbo.

He didn't miss how stunning she was in the moment. It even made the corner of his mouth turn up slightly. He'd chosen well.

But he was also done messing around. He'd given her plenty of time to show him what she was made of. It seemed only fitting he extend the same courtesy.

Assuming he'd managed to grip the undead minion's forearm, he tried to spin and push it down in a shoulder lock which, if he had his way, would rip the thing's arm right out of it's socket, all while holding that line of fiery energy between Nixa and himself.

One movement carried him into the next. It took him barely a second.

It was like a fireball erupted right where the demon was standing. The light was white-hot, blinding, scalding to those not linked with flame as their natural element. It engulfed a sphere spanning roughly 14 feet and would likely snap the heat-swallowing spell Nixa had cast. Too much, too fast, and Saer had released it at what he presumed to be the appropriate time, hoping to send her flying, or at least stumbling back from the sharp backlash. It was the first semi-offensive move he'd made on her personally. If she continued to push, he wouldn't hesitate to deliver more.

One instant, bright white light. The next, a demon -the First true Daemoenica- stood in the place where Saer had been. But this demon was black of skin as much as Saer was white, standing 12 feet tall on metallic silver hoofed feet, his leather wingspan spreading upward as much as 14 feet. Silver claws matched the hooves, and last of all, silver horns which framed his bestial face, exactly as the silver crescents did in his human form, acting as a weapon and helmet simultaneously with their wicked, razor-sharp points. All that remained the same from one form to the next were those startling white-blue eyes, now even more striking against onyx skin, as well as that curious scar cutting down the left brow and eyelid. It looked pink, fresh, in his natural form.

[orb_of_blood]

((What happened to the slaves who took Chez's BOOMSTICK! point-blank?

Ah, sorry, missed that post. Assuming they were right in front of him when he fired, then they wouldn't have had much time to dodge. However, neither would Chez then when the ones he didn't shoot came at him.

[Alleyway]

Spoiler

Show

As the bespelled undead minion approached Saer with teeth and claw, he had it in him to dodge one set of claws, the initial bite, but the second set of claws came raking down at the same time she uttered that spell to pull at his heat. He half-dodged and grabbed at the thing's forearm, taking four of the sharp nails to the shoulder. They were more shallow than they could have been, but still did enough damage to bring a hissing snarl from his bared teeth. And that last spell she uttered pulled at him, fully for an entire second before he leashed it.

Yes, he did have resistance. Because if it had any sort of warmth, it belonged to him, whether it wanted to or not. Saer's abilities were all linked to one and the same power. Flames were his specialty, but she was pulling on his essence, which was fire, the same way he could have tugged at her soul rather than caressed it earlier.

So that tether she held between the two of them, he gripped with the metaphysical power he possessed, not breaking the spell, but holding it, like a frenzied, captured line between the two of them. The air wavered between their bodies with the forces caught in limbo.

He didn't miss how stunning she was in the moment. It even made the corner of his mouth turn up slightly. He'd chosen well.

But he was also done messing around. He'd given her plenty of time to show him what she was made of. It seemed only fitting he extend the same courtesy.

Assuming he'd managed to grip the undead minion's forearm, he tried to spin and push it down in a shoulder lock which, if he had his way, would rip the thing's arm right out of it's socket, all while holding that line of fiery energy between Nixa and himself.

One movement carried him into the next. It took him barely a second.

It was like a fireball erupted right where the demon was standing. The light was white-hot, blinding, scalding to those not linked with flame as their natural element. It engulfed a sphere spanning roughly 14 feet and would likely snap the heat-swallowing spell Nixa had cast. Too much, too fast, and Saer had released it at what he presumed to be the appropriate time, hoping to send her flying, or at least stumbling back from the sharp backlash. It was the first semi-offensive move he'd made on her personally. If she continued to push, he wouldn't hesitate to deliver more.

One instant, bright white light. The next, a demon -the First true Daemoenica- stood in the place where Saer had been. But this demon was black of skin as much as Saer was white, standing 12 feet tall on metallic silver hoofed feet, his leather wingspan spreading upward as much as 14 feet. Silver claws matched the hooves, and last of all, silver horns which framed his bestial face, exactly as the silver crescents did in his human form, acting as a weapon and helmet simultaneously with their wicked, razor-sharp points. All that remained the same from one form to the next were those startling white-blue eyes, now even more striking against onyx skin, as well as that curious scar cutting down the left brow and eyelid. It looked pink, fresh, in his natural form.

The moment he grabbed it, Nixa released the tether on the spell. She's not stupid enough to hold onto it in vain when she could be doing something else. She senses he's started to fight back. She wasn't sure why he'd waited to do so, but he was.

Nixa knows three areas of magic: destructive magic, enchanting and necromancy. When it came to casting other spells they were generally very poor. But knowing he was about to do... something, made her try. With every ounce of energy she had sucked before he withdrew from the spell, she pushed outwards, in an attempt to create a sort of shimmering shield.

The spell sort of worked, and it did shield her from around half of the energy burst, but it was rather weak and absorbing that energy cracked it immediately. It was enough though as she could deal with the rest.

When she first saw the demon as... well, as a demon, that was when she knew she would be dead if he wasn't her master. Oookay, so much for being concerned that he was weaker then her.

A skull rolls by her legs. Ah ****, there goes her minion....

You see, it was times like this that she wished her more natural element was something other then flame, but it wasn't and she had to deal with that. No breathing fire... Binds. Fire infused ice-binds. That may help...

It's one of Nixa's most powerful spells, taught by Draaxar himself, and it was definitely a desperate move on her part. The whispered spell sends flying ice binds at Saer, attempting to grapple him and hold him to the ground. But that's not all. These ice binds have been infused with fire, and protected against it. In other words: they don't melt unless hit with absolutely insane amounts of heat.

[kitcatk8]

[Alleyway]

As the ice binds came flying his way, Saer's thick, black arm reached up and snatched half of them from the air so they looped and sank into his forearm and bicep. The other half went across his chest and against one of his wings, pinning his wing against his body and his other bicep against his side, then forced him down to one well-muscled shank as the ends of the ice bit into the ground as she'd intended.

The demon's growl, in this form, was the stuff nightmares are made out of. It trembled deep in the ribcages of any within ten yards of their battle. The ice hissed against his flesh, biting into him, even as the fire reinforced it.

Too bad Fire belonged to him.

It was simple, really. Rather than push at the bindings with more heat, he pulled metaphysically. The heat in them came to him willingly, like it had always belonged there. All that was stabilizing the tethers, he drank up, leaving only the ice which melted in what was more like a sharp burst and hiss of steam off his body.

The chuckle which rose from his chest, like the growl, was a dark, sinister thing. He raised those icy blue eyes on her as he stood once more to his full height.

If she was going for another spell in that moment, it was his full intention to stop it with a leap -although, at his current size, it was more like a sharp, single lunge- towards her, his claws raking into the ground right in front of her feet to destabilize her, his wing curling in behind her. If all went as he'd intended, he meant to have her fall back, unhurt, into that powerful, thick wing he was using to cradle her. If she fought back...well...he'd continue. But he was hoping she was smart enough to submit when she still had every hair in tact on her as-yet unharmed body. He'd hate to burn away those beautiful, white locks she seemed so attached to.

[orb_of_blood]

[Alleyway]
((...at this point I'd love to have Nixa yield, but it's not something she'd do! ))

Ah, but Nixa really doesn't know when to quit. She refuses to give up. As she begins to cast her next spell, it's knocked out of her as she stumbles backwards and is caught by the wing.

Touch spells! What spells did she have that she can use even now? Ummm... without even really thinking about it she presses her palms to the demon's leathery wing and speaks two spells in rapid succession. Whisper!Bind! ...Oops. That really wasn't very clever. If he wasn't already mad at her, chances are that if these spells work, he would be. Why did she choose those spells? they just sort of popped into her mind!

While neither spell is particularly destructive, they're mind-affecting. The first, whisper, is designed to lower will power. It creates whispers int he mind, loud and incessant, that bury other thoughts and twist the mind to the brink of insanity.

The second spell, bind, is even stranger for Nixa to cast. it's an emergency spell, one Draxxar had taught her only to use when she needed to. Did this count? Well, whether it counted or not, there it goes!

Bind causes about twenty thoughts to simultaneously form in the targeted creatures mind. These thoughts are designed to improve the outlook of the target on the caster from violent to, well, Nixa hates it, but intense caring. She's used it once before with very negative results... Usually she'd expect him to resist, but perhaps the Whisper had already lowered his willpower...

Of course, that's all assuming he doesn't do something further to disrupt her spells, or have the power to completely resist them. Either way, it shows that she's still fighting, as Nixa would continue to fight in a true battle.