Scene #2548:

Owner	Pose
Ultima	As ever, before or after Burmecia's fall, the land earns its name well. Rain hammers at the two relatively small garrisons built in place of what was once two guard houses at the gates of the formerly lovely city. There's only a smattering of Alexandrians actually holding the decrepit city according to intelligence, and scouting by the approaching Crusading army of the Glabados Church has all but confirmed that fact. Thus, the forces arrayed here are hardly massive, but far larger than those they seek to attack. The march, of course, has been a bit of a slog through rain and broken roads. Most bandits and monsters have been smart enough to leave an approaching army alone, but a few light skirmishes have left them with only minor casualties. Well out of range of the few Alexandrian archers up on the remains of Burmecia's once brilliant walls, Faruja Senra has perched himself on a barrel and addresses the Elites and Captains present. Most are human, but a few /very/ enthuasiastic Burmecians have found themselves promotions through valor in the last few days of marching. The brown hair of the presiding Field Commander, Ser Aliste, is plasted back against his head, but the man manages to look unruffled and gentlemanly despite. "On this day, in the name of Faram and Ajora, we seek to take back a place within whom the Faith had but mere kindling sparked! That very faith all but snuffed out by the heathen Alexandrians in their greed. Some of ye were present at that very day. Some of ye were not. But the brave men and women of all races I see arrayed before me giveth hope to all of us whom once dwelled within these walls, that our people may rise again under the auspices of the Holy Church! Those hiding within its fallen corpse art naught but Heretics, and they must be brought to justice for their actions! Carry thyselves well. We art not to be marauding bandits, nor shall we seek revenge alone. This is a day of Justice, not slaughter. Fight valiantly, look to thine Brothers and Sisters in arms, and may all whom fall this day go to the Lord with pride, having done their duty! Amen!" It's a speech, perhaps, far less vengeful than some would think Faruja capable of. He's definitely been stiff, and almost mournful the entire way here. It is visibly difficult for the rat to reign in his fury, but professionalism calls. The brown-haired youthful leader of the military then steps up, hardly standing on ceremony as he hops up on the barrel as the priestly rat vacates the spot. He claps, and then crosses his chest. "A rousing speech, dear Inquisitor! Right, then, to the business at hand! Folly and misfortune to our opponents, they are bereft of supply, support, and just about anything needed for a proper army. Caution...and that especially goes to our fine tailed companions in arms. As the good Inquisitor said, no getting ahead of yourselves and greeting God /too/ early...is the word of the day." His voice is even, yet carries, and he even winks to the crowd. Someone should have been an actor or a politician. "We spread our lines, knights and other warriors at the front, and our mages and archers hammer the guardhouses. Then, the rest move in and sweep up the rest. Listen to your commanders, and in all like, we shall be toasting our victory beneath the Palace arbor by nightfall! Questions? I see we have some interesting faces from...elsewhere joining our assault teams."
Ineryon	It was not hard to take sight, or sound of an army marching towards Burmecia, and furthermore, disturbances that meddle with the placement of soil, rock, or other minerals beyond the minor disruptions commonly caused by weather patterns, in a uniform frequency, could bring attention to one very attuned to the otherwise natural balance of topography outside of Burmecia, where one Ineryon Valos had a stake-out underway, in the hopes of catching a glimpse of his long-standing opponent, who was said to have been one from his own bloodline, albeit, higher up the hierarchy. The fact that Ineryon had also, quietly, been paid under the table, to witness all that he beheld in the coming hours, had led him to a ledge overlooking the territory, allowing a good optical view of unfolding events, which didn't account for the addition of the talismans that he'd buried underground, which were designed to take readings of vibrations, as well as sounds, and even analyze any potential mixture of blood in soil, if the terrain did even up becoming contaminated by the contents of living bodies present. The dark elf was not even close to being situated within the line of fire, so, unless somebody deliberately cried out to him, scaled the mountain, or aimed a laser gun at him, Baron Ineryon Valos planned to play a very minor role in the proceedings.... or, minor, in any self-evident manner; the purpose of his presence would become apparent in a future time, should fate be deemed to go as Kletian has hoped! Not one to ever place much faith in mankind, Ineryon might've been inclined, in his youth, to give preference to placing his confidence in demon-kind, or god-kind, as an alternative, even so, in his own humble experience, gods and demons were equally so full of witlessness that in an the final analysis, anything predisposed to 'yearn' for one thing more so than another, this was indeed enough of a criterion to establish that an agenda, no matter how minuscule, /would/ play some hand in the outcome of one's ambitions, regardless of the attempted impartiality and objectivity sought to accompany the ambition therein, leading Ineryon to the determination that nobody could be trusted, truly, to be said to be devoid, in whole absolution, of feelings, compulsions, or whims that drove one to take action that would influence self-interest-- not even he himself; with this being the case, the dark-elf didn't rightly care which of his allies or enemies ultimately 'won', so long as Baron Ineryon were to stand to profit the absolute most, amidst a plane of existence where everything that did not constitute that which was himself, was, in fact, some nemesis incarnate. It also may have went without saying that it did not help that Kletian of the Templars failed to demonstrate attentiveness to decorum, by addressing him as 'Mister Valos', if there had been, even inwardly, some hope for the Glabadosians to endear themselves to the drow on some personal level..... If Ineryon wanted to be a stickler about compartmentalization, that was quite his prerogative, nonetheless, and anyone sending him invites to conspire should have done well to've revered this accordingly, had he enough of a reputation at all, to even be heard of, initially! Journalism was merely a device designed to record, or keep a 'journal' of certain information that one assumed to be worth passing along, but those who didn't rely exclusively on eyesight might've been more interested in other media through which one could draw conclusions about instrumental portions of a story that would be contained within the epic that comprised all that would ever be. It also forced some folks to be rained upon, yet, on his outcropping, the drow nobleman had enough of an overhang, resembling the Grinch's cave, which shielded him from the majority of any plummeting precipitation; how convenient.
Ainsley	Ainsley was not here on behalf of Faram, or Ajora, or even the Union this time. She was here for Faruja. And that is why she lingers around him like a shadow, ever silent, her expression blank of emotion. She does not share the rage that Faruja does and, indeed, she does not seem quick to cheer following the speech. Her somber demeanor shows in full force today, and instead she follows Faruja simply to ensure that her presence was there and that she was able to provide comfort to him should it be required. Comfort, or a merciful perspective. For instance, where the military leader seems to miss the tension in the rat's demeanor, Ainsley instead approaches him to gently rest a hand against his back, between his shoulders. She speaks to him in a voice that barely overpowers the ambient rainfall. "They will reclaim your home, Faruja... Trust in your allies and subordinates," she says to him, her voice melodic and hopeful, "A few may fall, but that is the consequence of war that we must accept if it cannot be avoided. I will be here with you... let me know if you need me for any reason."
Tomoe	Tomoe has fallen into a war she was not happy about this, but Faruja's home has been over run right? The large woman had been there silent towering over a good deal of the natives of this world. he leans on her spear as she listens. She has noone she knows where she's going to be likely up in the air giving the forces much needed support from the skiees, she's also made sure to turn on FRAPS for this.
Finna	It may save him from precipitation, but Ineryon is not safe from the other creature who's been using the ledge. An Arctic Fox - albeit in its thin greyish-white summer coat - springs out of hiding the moment Faruja finishes his speech. She can tell because ACTION BEGINS. The creature pauses in its charge only to LEAP STRAIGHT UP, lick his nose on the way up and down, then VAULT off the ledge with a very GERONIMO attitude. Her screechy bark of TRIUMPH fades out though, in favor of a peregrine falcon's screech. One of the fastest creatures of the air's at a steep dive for the distant Faruja and his forces. Her sudden perch is, oddly enough, Tomoe's head, and it's a miracle that she's somehow not causing HP damage or discomfort with those talons. "What's the plan?" The bird asks, in Finna's voice.
Staren	MEANWHILE, FAR, FAR ABOVE Staren's SPACE CASTLE -- actually a spaceship the size of a couple of busses stuck together, floats in orbit high above the planet. Affixed to the top is a spherical pod. Staren climbs out of the airlock and walks towards the pod, his boots sticking to the hull as he makes his way to a hatch and climbs through. Lights on his suit illuminate the machine sitting inside -- A stout humanoid a dozen feet or so tall, mostly a 'torso' with stumpy limbs and no head, overlapping armor plates painted red. He climbs in and closes the hatch. The pod detaches, and external thrusters push it away from the spaceship and towards the surface... faster, faster, plummeting towards the world below...
Ultima	Thankfully for Ineryon, his perch is somewhat isolated from the twin armies below! Conveniently, it's also in a part of the area where those with zealous or commanding voices tends to carry! Perfect for journalism. Faruja leans in, the touch to his back letting Ainsley feel the trembling in his body. There's an obscene mix of emotions in the rat, and for once, zealotry doesn't seem to be the prevailing one. He's scared: of his duty, and his ability to fulfill it. "God Bless ye Ainsley. I know. Just...keep me from doing aught that is against calling or creed, hmm?" He pulls her into a hand squeeze, then lets go. A soldier near Tomoe and the bird-Finna mistakes the voice for another soldier. "Were ya not listin' to the Field Commander? Ajora's knickers, mate! We burn the 'eathens out with magicks and arrers, then we rush in and take the fortifications! Tiny-fort-siege basics!" Comes the young woman, shaking her head and readying her blade. The Alexandrians, for their part, have formed up defensive lines around the twin guard towers! There's mostly archers and a couple Black Mages lining the walls themselves, but the few soldiers ready for more physical defense look nervous and peer at each other. There's inaudible whispers, but a passing Captain swats them on the back of the helmet. No fleeing. Yet. After that, Ser Aliste offers a smile, and then begins barking orders. Military efficiency then takes hold in the groups, as lines of Templar and other soldiers protect mages and other healery counterparts. Faruja is amidst the line of mages. Orders ring out, and there's fire and arrows being exchanged on both sides as the march gets on. Ser Aliste is right at the front, a stray arrow followed by firebolt knocked away harmlessly by a shield. He raises his blade, and points it at the offending black mage. Ice falls, encasing the creature in a sword of magic, and it falls off the A few soldiers on both sides almost immediately fall as the engagement begins. The left guardhouse seems to have more physical fighters arrayed out! Their numbers are thinned somewhat as melee starts to be engaged, but the now splitting army seems to mostly have its majority melee units focused on that one. The smaller guardhouse turns mainly into a mage-fight, Faruja himself getting in the mix. A trio of defending Alexandrians are turned to ash as Ifrit shows its might, dissappearing. Staren's descent is unchecked! He'll have an easy landing, what with armies being occupied each other. Indeed, there's enough melee defenders for a robot to fall into on the left guardhouse! Even Finna and Ainsley might want to find solice near a warrior with the amount of spellpower being rained down on them all from those many black mages! Aliste and Faruja both note the problem, and they're calling out. "Slay the mages!" Across the battlefield, the pair meet gazes. Aliste cuts a poor soldier in half, and Faruja lights one up with his Blaze Gun. There's a good natured smile shared. But amidst all of this, there's a figure only those arriving or perched high might notice. A robed woman, all in black, with scarlet tresses walking her way from within the city towards the front gates, ignoring the din of battle.
Ineryon	There is something that exists which irritates Ineryon more than Finna, which is the belief in a concept called 'nothing', which, being devoid of any volumetric significance, or perceptibility, means that only that which does not have obvious materialistic substantiation attached to it, is what Ineryon despises. So, nothing is worse than foxes(Finna, in particular) who interrupt trains of thought which would alternatively be applied to more useful tasks, which, for all the dark elf is aware; this could feasibly have a direct influence on the dark elf's ability to collect 'the raw data' with his undivided-attention, that had indeed been, for a fraction of a few seconds, proven divisible, contributions of Finna's odious stunt! At this time, he can't punish her for the blow that had been dealt, in light of Finna's attendance being necessary to aid Faruja, yet, also due to the discourtesy it'd show his contract... to spend extraneous heed on hunting a woman 'of not importance' to exact vengeance, when he was paid to abstain from intervening, to whatever capacity he could muster. Narrowing his eyes in frustration, the nobleman is able to stop himself from snarling, or making any noise to signify, that he was positively vexed by this development. Finna's day would come.... Patience was a virtue, and to defeat her, Ineryon simply had to exhibit patience, and strike at the right time, in the right place....
Tomoe	Tomoe has a bird on her head she was not expecting this and she's wondering how she's not taking some damage from the thing's talons She listens to teh Bird and then wait that's Finna. Shape shifter she should have guessed. She listene for a moment and nods blinks. "That was my plan." Her voice is different than the one that spoke and the forgien paladin seem reayd to go she'll be taking to the skies and she wonders maybe she should look into two handed swords she really does seem to fit that doesn't she? She'll figure it out later. She however will have to wait on that as she gets ready to take flight now and she launches off into the skies forming her red angel like wings. She starts chanting in norse and then the gold runes dance about her form. A moment later a rain of light rays bombard the mage formations. She has no issues in cutting down these mobs enmass.
Staren	The drop pod streaks out of the sky. Staren tries to steer the drop pod towards the smaller tower and just crash into it! Wherever, exactly, he lands, the pod opens, breaking away into 'slices' around the machine. A long metal rod sticks up from one of the slices -- the machine grabs it, wielding it like a club, while Staren looks around for targets, firing the arm-mounted beam cannons at a couple of mages.
Ainsley	Ainsley smiles softly at the blessing directed toward her for her words. She takes the request given by Faruja, and decides to follow after Faruja. Her longsword is drawn from its scabbard to be held in both hands, the back of the blade resting on her shoulder while the army begins their advance. The magery exchanged between all of the combative sorts means that Ainsley rises up into the sky, to avoid being spotted among the soldiers and find a nice spot to perch and observe the battle. She does not participate in the bloodshed here, instead choosing to observe. But she isn't being passive. She's seeking out specific priority threats, as nearly every battle in this world has resulted in some kind of problematic person or another coming down on her and the people she's allied with. She spots the strange robed figure. "Mmh..." Anticipating the use of powerful magery from such an imposing figure, she activates her Arcane Sight to seek out pieces of the woman's Name in order to, hopefully, disrupt her magic later should it carry verbal components. She does this from afar, but as long as she's got the person in her line of sight, she will be able to slowly read and decode the parts of their arcane nature related to Communication... As long as she's not interrupted or blocked by another mage. Good ole recon!
Finna	In a few moments Finna finds herself having to cling to Tomoe's armor. There's a screech of protest, but she hangs on just fine. SOMEHOW. And she releases just before Tomoe descends, using the momentum to take proper flight. But only for a few moments. Because she's going DOWN, DOWN, DOWN. And as she descends, she's also changing. By the time she's hit ground, the -WORST THING IMAGINABLE- has joined the fray. It's a rat. No, dozens of rats? GIANT rats. It is in fact an enormous mass of UNUSUALLY large rats, all mashed together by the tails and other body parts. There are RAT HEADS EVERYWHERE, the beast hisses and chitters and squeaks with a demonic-sounding fury. Across the battlefield it goes, zipping back and forth at terrific speeds just BITING ANKLES EVERYWHERE and occasionally running UP someone's front and DOWN their back. Like a spastic pinball this horrific creature skitters in EVERY seeming direction, intent on causing distractions and UTTER MAYHEM AND CHAOS among the enemy ranks!
Ultima	MAGE TOWER The Mage Tower gets the brunt of the assault, it seems, as the Church's living mages scythe down a respectable amount of defending soldiers and the more heavily armed archers and mages. This leaves a nice swathe for the melee soldiers to engage, Holy Swords, and more commonly, pure brute strength of lance, mace, axe, or blade overwhelming the swiftly beleaguered defenders. Just as Staren's DYNAMIC ENTRY slams down into the small fortification, Tomoe's Holy Light goes crashing down onto the few still defending that section of the walls. Then Staren finally truly gets to work upon the tower, cutting through it with the force of atmospheric re-entry and his cannon cuts several mages /within/ the tower in half, he's soon sitting on the smoking, ruined remains of the first fortification. The few remaining soldiers defending it wisely throw down their arms. Several moan in pain from injuries, or otherwise beg for mercy. Faruja barks an order through a linkshell, and soon, the few remaining combatants are being mopped up, and prisoners already being taken. One Burmecian soldier, snarling, raises a blade upon a defenseless Alexandrian. Faruja spies it, teleports over, and neatly plants the end of his cane at his countryman's neck. He thuds on the ground. "AHEM! I see certain amongst thee hath not been listening! Any needless slaughter here, and ye shall be BRANDED A HERETIC AND FACE THE CONSEQUENCES! Tie up this damned traitor!" Howls Faruja. On the Right Tower, things are going roughly as easily. Ser Aliste and a number of elite Templar have breached the tower proper, most of the defenders already dead or dieing, and are swiftly making their way up to the top. Then there's /SQUEAKING/. Rats. Rats freaking everywhere! Biting ankles! The Alexandrians surrender post-haste under Finna's squeaky wrath-of-god. Ainsley, however, gets a lovely view of the robed woman. Finding her Name turns out to be troublesome: feedback that's a cacophany of Arcane Letters that show up, twisting in on themselves. Though appearing mortal, Ainsley might be able to guess that so many names indicates something impossibly ancient...and utterly evil, by the horrible wailing names. The Arcane nature is definitely something dark. Which is proven quite true, as her hands are held aloft, and pure magic of a foul and debased nature fills the air around her. If Ainsley gets close enough, she might sense something else. Something she last felt when at Faruja's former home. The cloying feeling of a Zodiac Stone in the woman's possession. As she incants, the darkness rises. Slowly, from the depths of the city, /things/ rise. Long dessicated corpses and other creatures long dead pull towards a spot near the woman. Flesh and bodies meld, evil radiating, as a four-armed golem of rotted flesh begins to form. The creature rises, already eight feet tall, and several of the dead Alexandrians seems to fade away in black bursts of power, melding into the growing zombie. The Churchmen haven't yet noticed, Aliste and Faruja both too caught up in fighting off various mages that simply refuse to stop, due to their mindless nature.
Staren	Staren arrives. He fires a couple of shots. ...The battle seems to be over... already? Staren glances around to see if the Church army is in a position to capture the surrendering Alexandrians... and he sees barely any Alexandrians /fighting/! Instead, he sees a strange darkness... and corpses rising and merging. "The heck?" Staren waves the beam cannons at some of the surrendering mages without firing. "Don't even think of trying anything." His robot turns and approaches the undead abomination, which is... smaller than it? "Is that all you've got? Seriously?" He opens fire.
Ainsley	"Wha--" Ainsley immediately deactivates her Sight when she realizes what they're dealing with. She grits her teeth, and speaks over the radio toward her allies, before the magic is weaved and threatens to have undead fall upon them. Her tail lashes behind her, showing the discomfort she has with the horrific vision. "There's a demon on the Alexandrian side, it's the woman in the robes," she says over the Union secure bands. And then she stands up on her perch, and weaves her hands in the air, distorting the air with strange visual artifacts. This prepares her for: "#$&@&$#$@#######--" An absolutely AWFUL noise emits from her mouth in an attempt to try to counter the robed woman's incantation with a counter-phrase. What an ungodly racket!!
Tomoe	Tomoe is going after the mages for the moment she seems pretty contenty to play up the angel of war bit she seems to have going on right now. She hears the orders over the shell and now she's going to dive bomb into the black mages ranks letting off a shockwave as she lansm, them going to town with her blade the dawn breaker. Also what the heck is Ainsley doing, Tomoe could /feel/ that.
Finna	Finally, with all this mess dealt with, Finna decides to take her natural form. Or something close to it. Although she's LAUGHING throughout the entire transformation back to human, something's weird about it. Her skin's glowin faintly silver, her tatoos are on full display and shimmering in the firelight of war, and although she dons a uniform similar to those used by Faruja's forces it's definitely customized for her body form and tastes - meaning, lots of leg and arm showing. IN each hand she has a knife. "WHERE, AINSLEY?! WHERE?!"
Amalthea	In all the chaos, in all the din and clamor of a fight in full swing, the sudden sound of exploding stone calls out in a loud CRACK of shattering masonry and crumbling dust as the tower once again rocks with an earth-shaking impact. Hitting the wall with the force of an artillery shell, one fortified peep-hole is suddenly expanded by the riotous force of a figure in silver and crimson connecting with the wall at breakneck speed. A harsh gust of wind billows and ripples the newly arrived knight's scarlet cloak, armor gleaming as reflectively as the blades in hands. Faith and Duty shine, glinting and ready for battle as rainbow mane tosses in the wind. "Apologies for the delay." The Lady Amalthea grunts as she takes to a place at Ainsley's side while she works her counter magic to the fell forces of the Zodiac Stone wielding woman. Indeed, the unicorn twirls her swords in hand, taking a defensive position just paces in front of Ainsley. "Had to find my way here. Didn't have too much fun without me, did you?"
Ultima	The pair of Aliste and Faruja seem pretty synchronized as far as comments go, as Ainsley's words and similar reports hits the pair at once. "What in the bloody...What in God's..." Dual mental slaps, and there's orders being barked! A majority of the remaining men of the Church are now busy trying to (literally, in some cases), nail down bodies or otherwise destroy them. As dark magic creeps along the hallowed and unhallowed dead alike, the more fire-or-holy aligned mages tend to have the best time of it, while a few dragoons manage to mostly pin down a few more like bugs. Staren's cannon hits! The powerful blast disintigrates two arms, the undead creature surprisingly mobile! If it hadn't moved at the last second, it would have been cut in half by the sheer force of the blow. The woman beside it, however, appears completely unruffled. She raises her hand, and a pure beam of darkness fires right back at Staren! Should it be able to strike into his body-slash-soul, it noticably will try to impart feelings of despair and loathing. But the amount of bodies its gathering slowly increases its bulk, growing by the minute. Arms are reforming, up to just below the shoulder. Ainsley's powers strike the Lucavi-woman, causing her to go to a knee. Her spell wavers, and bodies stop teleporting away! The closer ones from within the city are still being pulled, but the formation rate of the monstrosity is definitely slowing. Tomoe's brilliant strike sends mage-dolls flying! Finally, no more move. It's only the dead, cowering Alexandrians, and this horrid creature forming. Finna grows, transforming, and a number of troops are stuck calling out 'monster' or 'Witch!'. Thankfully, smarter heads prevail, and no one gets in the way of Finna. The golden armor and Ajoran cross helps. Amalthea crushes the remaining tower, jumbles of remaining Alexandrians not utterly huddling together in terror. Faruja, for his part, radios over to the group at large. "Good day, Dame Amalthea, glad to know ye joined us. NOW KILL THE FARAM-DAMNED ABOMINATION AND KEEP AINSLEY SAFE KINDLY!" Howls Faruja with his special brand of 'kill the undead thing'. He teleports somewhat near the duo, and casts. Shiva fades into existance, and immediately starts glassing several bodies taht seek the main forming creature. It's a delay tactic, but effective. The horrible woman laughs. "Oh, Holy One! You've yet to know your place I see! No matter! Once you see your lover and your friends, and all of these fair warriors slain, you shall cry out for our touch! Join us!" Then, even as she tries to keep speaking, fighting with Ainsley's spell, a free hand unleashes a powerful wave of darkness! It slashes through stone, and slams toward Finna, Amalthea, and Faruja! Aliste and a few Templar don't cower in terror like several of the now screaming troops. "Forward you cowards! Assist the foreigners and the Inquisitor!" Valiantly, he rushes forward with his troops, soon cleaving and dodging razor-sharp claws as Aliste lashes out with his knight sword. One of the Templar gets tossed aside, knocked out against a wall, but for all the bleeding Aliste handles himself masterfully, laughing all the while! Staren and the others, however, have an excellent opportunity to strike again at the Golem or Woman!
Ainsley	"--XKJHGNVYTHJK--" Ainsley seems to be able to speak to Amalthea at the same time as performing this awful noise, owing to the versatility of her special form of magic, "Feel free to jump right into the party," her voice sounding completely normal despite no indication of her mouth moving in sync with the words or stopping her counter-incantation for even a second. She doesn't stop her counter spell, and keeps altering the frequency to fight the demon woman's magic and, perhaps, delay it even longer and make it harder and harder for the effects to take hold. She even activates her Sight and tries to fixate on the spell effect itself as it's spoken by the strange woman. "--31153~!+=*******" She is trying really hard. It shows in how garbled and bizarre the counter-spell becomes, a garbage incantation slowly engineered to be more and more disruptive.
Staren	It just keeps growing! Drawing more bodies into it... Staren glances around, trying to figure out how to stop it... and the woman blasts him with some kind of darkness beam! Fortunately he is inside, y'know, a robot. Where the beam hits, it... does whatever a magical darkness beam does! Probably cracks and shatters some armor plating, or causes it to rust away to nothing, or something like that. Still, the weapons and armor technologies of Staren's world are top-notch -- even a robotic war machine this size can take a lot of punishment yet. Staren has an idea on what to do: A pack on the back of the robot opens, and mini-missiles streak into the sky and then rain down around woman and golem alike -- these are the plasma fireball warheads -- the main objective here is to burn away the bodies before they can join the main force, but Staren's certainly not taking any care to /not/ catch the demon and her creation in the blast radii!
Amalthea	"Hello, Faruja." Despite the horrors of undead and demonic malice unleashed, Amalthea's voice is serene." She need not be told twice what to do in such a situation, however. "Aye. Consider it done." Rather than jump headfirst into the din however, her shield is raised. No sooner than the demon infested woman turns in her direction with that wave of darkness, the unicorn places herself firmly in the path between the fell spellwork and Ainsley. The result is a grunt. A physical shield can only do so much in the face of dark magics, and the withering energies sap at the knight's strength. But the unicorn's lone eye narrows with a fervent, suppresed, battle-rage. If anything, once she's regained her footing she takes a bullishly stubborn step forward. "I think... Not." Murmured lazily. There is something in her hand that isn't her sword. Indeed, Faith has been rammed into the floor, standing and waiting to be put to use as Amalthea bounces comething on her palm once. Twice. Thrice. Before she pulls the grenade's pin with her teeth and tosses it up. With a vicious swing, she uses her shield to baseball bat it right back at the woman.
Tomoe	Tomoe is doing a number on the dolls however she looks to see the abomination whatever it is? It needs to /die/ in fire. It seriously needs to die in fire at this point. She's chanting again and now the tempature about the abombination starts to rise and then a pillar of flame bursts into existance about it trying to turn it to ash.
Finna	Darkness slams into Finna, slicing apart clothing and flesh and even taking off one of her ARMS. Finna screeeeeeeches in protest, bloodied and all kinds of furious now. But she flips back, grabbing her um, 'free hand' with her still existing arm and HURLING it at the spellcaster with all of her might. It's STILl gripping the knife and that knife WILL end up at just the right angle to dig into flesh. Adding MORE nightmare fuel to this dark inferno, the bloodied stump of her arm seals over with flesh, ripples, bulges, then GROWS outwards quickly into a new arm. At the same time the anima rushing around her reaches a boiling point, becoming a silvery-blue bonfire of swirling shadows and swiftly engulfing her in the familiar affect of hiding her exact form besides 'humanoid.' "You're SO going to pay for that."
Ultima	The counter spell grates on the ears, but it seems effective! Slowly, even the bodies closest to the abomination stop grouping up! That portion of the spell finally shatters under Ainsley's power, and then the woman puts all of her power into controlling the creature! Its mixture of flesh and bone seems to gain muscle, and with a massive fist, punches straight through one of the attacking Templar's chest! He falls dead, only to start to be absorbed. Aliste raises his Knight Blade, and hacks off the offending arm. "Down with you, foul abomination! Fain forgive, fair lady of the Dark, your face shall run crimson with tears once this creature is sent back to its grave!" Comes the man. Only to be backed up by the massive creature that is now Finna. Her visage is enough to cause even a single Templar to break ranks. Aliste takes a moment to kick him in the rear as he flees. "Coward!" He yells, only to step aside. "Welcome to the fight, my fair...Lady? No matter! For God and Country!" Every slam of Finna's nightmare hand, every digging blade, every powerful strike is met in turn by a holy-fueled blow by Ser Aliste, dancing alongside her with grace and pure arrogance ofa true knight. "Step back lively now, my dear!" Ends Aliste. Only for the soldiers to duck back, as Tomoe summons up a column of fire! Even the woman's magic does little, the smell of burning flesh filling the air! The remaining soldiers back off, and Aliste aims his blade at the woman. Another sword of ice is caught by a powerful shield, the two spells shattering against one another. Then missiles from staren hammer the now un-powered creature! Left momentarily without spell, the creature is soon sporting gaping holes as it falls to the earth. It writhes, soon turning to more of a corpse-sludge than fully formed creature, lashing out with tentacle-bones that are now on fire! A soldier or two is clipped, but by now those brave enough to face it have formed up a nice shield wall. Mages and archers are now pouring in fire and arrow to the things, as the Churchmen regain their confidence. Zealous cries fill the air. The woman scowls in anger. "This...will not be the end! We will have the vessal, and we will kill you a..." Before she can continue, there's a grenade at her feet, that suddenly explodes. She goes flying, the impact and the force of Ainsley's powers breaking down her spell has her full of shrapnel, glancing blows from Staren's missiles, and various other mages and the like. She crashes amidst a rotten, rain-soaked former store-front, and slowly gets up. Magic surrounds her, as she starts a teleportation spell. "We will have your souls in the Deep Abyss for th..." Faruja Senra cuts her off with a single word. "Banish." It's utterly with cold fury, utter Judgement radiating in his good eye. Elsewhere, the stone of Zeromus the Condemner shines. Powerful gravity magic flares, seeking to consume the woman. Ainsley in particular will get to see the intermix of Time Magick fighting over the Lucavi woman's body, the woman clearly capable of both Time and Abyssal type magic. She screams, as the two spells collide, and she teleports away. An arm remains behind. Faruja scowls, and turns to the quivering mass of flesh that remains. He pulls out his Blaze Gun. "Ashes, Sers and Dames! Get the clergymen in here, we hath /work/ to do! Ser Aliste? I shall take care of the cleansing, might I leave the rest to thineself?" The man simply offers a winning smile, wipes off corpse-bits, then heads off to prepare prisoners and get something of a camp going. Cheers rise throughout the area, victory heavy in the air. Faruja turns amidst burning the thing. "God bless ye all." Visibly, the Burmecian chokes. Other rattish forms are doing the same, or touching Burmecia's walls. "...'Tis but a corpse now, but...my home is...mine again." He gets out,b efore turning away. He hides the sobs amidst flames.
Ineryon	...Following the ordeal involving all sorts of peculiar sights, and sounds, which, for the Multiverse, may actually be viewable as commonplace, Ineryon considers his predicament. The physical campaign of retaking Burmecia from Alexandria was achieved, supposed by numerous sorts to be anything but an insurmountable hurdle, yet, other variables had to enter into an equation. Did wars fight themselves, or were banners, symbols, speeches, and war-cries essential to the rallying of support to one side, over another? While some circumstances dictated that a few tools, like grenades, might have been small in size, yet massive in effect, the numbers that Baron Valos concerned himself with was manpower, for it was hard to hope for the rare miracle-drug, or scientific-breakthrough to suddenly shift the course of the whole tide, on the other hand, more dependable was the notion that if one could calculate probabilities of weather patterns, resources, health, and quantities of those who would need such things on their side to win, it was less necessary to pray to invisible, inaudible, intangible gods in order to see one's way to victory, in the mind of one Ineryon Valos. This being the case, the pen was typically mightier than the sword, especially if it was an exploding pen that could function as both an instrument to sway the masses to move towards certain objectives, or sway internal organs to leave their confines, assuming the prior failed, while a sword, barring mysticism, was better at cleaving a single foe at a time! The grueling chore of wading through the data he'd collected would take some time, and then, there was the matter of 'selectively excluding' certain degrees of calculation, by only approximating to this decimal, as far as what would be convenient for providing true, while imperfect numbers, as well as charts, for interested parties. As Ineryon had said to his 'friend' Taro a year ago, or thereabouts, even statistics only consisted of half-truths, since nobody with a life-expectancy of less than three centuries had much of a real desire to review every single exact number to the lowest conceivable numerical percentage! Why, if someone wanted to do an equation as simple as multiplying the age of folks slain, or injured, that'd require that one evaluate who died from infection, or what counted as a valid injury, so that anything shy of a missing limb might not deserve a Purple-Heart.... -THEN- the question could remain, what percent of the limb was removed, permanently? Was the leg taken off above the knee, below the knee, or at the ankle, or where the navicular bone resided? People could crunch numbers their whole lives and have to come up with precise dividing-lines, so, Ineryon's job was to spare people that hassle, do it himself, provide some 'reasonable' assessments that looked credible, and have some person with a full set of shiny white teeth appear on the television of the specific age-group, or thereabouts, rivaling the choir to whom they preached, to convince the choir-boys that Glabados was the hero, Alexandria was the villain, and it was perfectly 'okay' to kill them to take whatever territory they had been occupying, at the time of the 'reasonable search and seizure', spearheaded by the Glabadosian government. And Ineryon?.... If he got his cut, then he had no complaints! All he intended to whine about would entail whatever entrails had to be wiped off of any talismans which were partially-exhumed during the upheaval that constituted the activities of today's skirmish! C'est la vie?... or, perchance, C'est la mort.