If Jargo had a heart, it might have stopped pounding, petrified by the idea of being held responsible as he found himself the bull’s eye at the end of several of his beloved puppets’ spite. When one is such an outstanding genius, perhaps the occasional outcome is miscalculated and mistakes are made. Two things not taken into account by the devious devil: His victims had means of inflicting punishment and maybe being near the epicenter of chaos were elements unfortunately overseen during the planning process. For a moment he wondered if the ‘unarmed card’ was playable, but the heat of fury being directed at him was like touching the Sun and there were no other pacifistic opinions. Only retreat was on his mind as his head bobbed in search for an escape route.

The explosive pop came like a slap in the face and in a panic the demon yelped and grabbed at his chest then realizing that the shot had missed its intended target. What luck. He giggled. He snickered. And snorted. Then performed a coward’s slump from his seat to creep elsewhere while attentions were turned on individual injuries and plight. He could watch from afar. Very far.

However, he became a fly to honey when the bard’s temper rang out in a string of foul phrases. How could anybody possibly resist? Like any stable-minded person would do, the insane jester climbed atop the nearest open table and began to dance wildly as if the angry shouts were lyrics,

”My favorite song! How did you know?!”

Throwing his body around and flailing his arms this way and that, Jargo’s movements were nonrhythmic and uncoordinated. From what could be seen of his exposed body, his skeletal structure was misshapen and rolled under his thin flesh in an unsettling manner. Strange bits of matter shook out of his shawl and sprinkled down to where his bare feet pound on the small stage--his steps creating no particular pattern or forethought. In fact, he no longer knew if the bard was still screaming since he had taken it upon himself to begin humming an off-putting tune made up of bad notes and bizarre noises. For all he was concerned with now was his uncomforting interpretive dance.

@ViolentViolet@NorthernGR@Strafe@Illogical Jim

@BlackCat@Illogical Jim@Strafe@karamonnom@Metronome@Keplo

She frowned slightly at the girl but waved it off as Pallas invited her to join her later "Oh you don't have to go through all that trouble but it would be nice to have a friend for the time being" she raised her glass and smiled. Then Edward spoke and she smiled "Ah you would be surprised young one, very surprised I am not as beautiful as a goddess, but thank you. The pleasure would be all mine." She watched the bar around them as they began to drink, then a priest walked in. He seemed like a kind man, but not one that would end up in a bar like this. She listened to Pallas and him converse and she stayed silent. It was interesting to see Pallas carry herself without question like she did when she was younger. She was pulled into thoughts until she looked up and saw Edward stand up in anger.

Not seeing that the damned luck bastard, Jargo, was the one to start the mischief. Everything happened so fast and in such a quick span of time, she stood up at the sound of the contraption that Edward had in his hand. Looking to dwarf talk tot Pallas, she sighed "You help this one, I got that one" she pointed at the bard and she turned to start towards the bard, but saw Jargo and she suddenly felt anger. Her hand went to her bandaged part of her face and she felt anger.

"Focus at the task at hand child, your emotions must not guide you..." the words of Pallas's father rung in her ears suddenly and she sighed. Running towards the bard, she jumped over the table and parried his slashes at random. Standing between him and the elf "Wait wait wait, this is a huge misunderstanding, honest! There is no need to kill people now is there?????" she held her blade ready however and watched the bard waiting for his reaction.

After seeing how mad Fade is, the Elf decided to confront the person who shot the gun. He stopped, spun around on his heels and began to stride quickly towards the man with the gun. He spoke loudly,

"Excuse me sir, what were you thinking! You could have killed someone. Do you have any brains at all?"

The Elf had a sour look on his face, obviously disapproving of the gunman.

@Strife

The commotion was quickly escalating. Edward had gotten hit in the arm with a knife, and shot from his contraption, hitting who knows what. Hopefully no one would get hurt, but that was wishful thinking. Pallas was approached by a dwarf who asked for her assistance in settling this mess of disputes. She immediately picked up her large sword, but was told by the stranger to handle Edward while she handled the bard and Drow. "B-but..." she started and sighed as the woman had already left. She could always jump into the chaos if the stranger could not control the situation. She walked towards Edward to make sure his arm was okay. The knife had gone in pretty deep and though it would be very painful, it wasn't anything that would kill him or disable him from using his arm ever again. "Edward... let me help you with that," she said in a gentle tone. @Tricheus @Strafe @AgentFallenSoul

Then an elf appeared out of nowhere and began to scold the poor nobleman. "Do you not see he was hit by a flying knife? He did not mean to shoot or harm anyone. Shouldn't you be more concern about the one who has thrown the knife?" Pallas retorted. She could understand where the elf was coming from, but playing the blame game like that wasn't going to solve anything. Or maybe she just didn't like it when anyone spoke to her friend like that. Either way, she didn't think that Edward deserved the rudeness. @Benjimus

Oh wow. Fate had been in quite a few brawls in her time, but never yet had she seen one escalate so quickly, nor so masterfully. It had gone from a few lose tempers to an all out battle field in the space of a few moves. Oh yes, this was gonna be fun. "Well hello again Fate. It's been a while." Fate blinked, cocking her head at the Drow who had talked. It took her a second to place her, or more accurately to place where she would have seen her before.

Had anyone been paying attention they would have seen a light-bulb flash over her head, although seeing as light-bulbs didn't exist, any person seeing it would have definitely decided they were drunk. Fate had suddenly recalled why this stunning beauty seemed familiar, she was one of the few to ever beat her in a fight, and, thanks to the deal they had made, was the one with whom Fate had agreed, if reluctantly, to a blood ritual.

"You shouldn't be giving him that drink, little wolf. He's just going to do something stupid."
"Mhm," Fate agreed, shrugging, matching Fades grin. As long as she didn't leap into a fight with Fade, Fate was comfortable enough around her, but that could be that for all her alertness she was quite oblivious to many things.

She must have been lost in thought, because the next thing she knew thunder had erupted all through the tavern, making her wince and clutch at her ears, a lucky reflex as it caused her to duck her head slightly, meaning that one of the stray projectiles only grazed the top of her head by a millimeter.

That was it. All the incentive Fate needed to fully lose her temper. She let lose a cross between a howl and a roar, the sort that would chill blood, that was if any one heard it lost in the mess of noise as it was. Her eye fully changed to yellow, her muzzle starting to elongate, she leapt forward, hammers swinging in wild tandem, missing many things by mere inches, as she worked up speed, rushing blindly towards the smell of blood.

Reaching her quarry, her prey, Fate swung her hammer, missing by half a foot. She snarled, showing fangs, Damn, she'd thought he'd been closer. Using the momentum of her previous swing, Fate spun a full circle, bringing her closer as she slammed her other hammer at the man's head.@NorthernGR

She still looked much like a human, a human with an interestingly pulled out lower face, and the beginnings of deep grey fur sprouting all over, not the sort of sight most people wanted to be confronted with, along with a pair of hammers that were swinging nearly fast enough to become a blur. Nearly.

Well, he missed. And that was putting it lightly. When Dirion saw the Drow sidestep the knife he began to question how wise attacking her was.

He had already paled slightly when he saw the woman marching towards him. Fighting dirty he could take one, he was sure. But person to person? He was doubtful. He had heard the rumors of Drow! Well, mainly from Busker. But for all his faults the man was reliable with his information, well, sometimes. So when Busker says that a Drow can kill you with a thought that most definitely made Dirion sweat.

Dirion's slightly paling skin changed to a ghostly white when he saw that he hit the noble boy. That was just what he needed! Not only was he wanted for supposedly killing.. her. But now he had the good fortune to possibly mortally wound a man of the aristocracy. Bringing even more attention down upon him. Perfect. And then of course there was the boy's magic tool that exploded and sent shrapnel everywhere. One of the pieces of metal went straight through Dirion's mug. Putting two decent size holes from which all his ale poured onto the floor. Even better. Fate was going to kill him.

The Drow stomped right up to him. He could see pure hate in her eyes, even drunk. The Drow was taller than him. He hadn't noticed that before, but she was. Funny, now he felt small both metaphorically and literally. She said to him, "You want to die first?", with the same venom and malice that he had just yelled with a moment ago. All of a sudden Dirion's throat felt very tight. He felt something he didn't feel very often when traveling the roads or drinking. He was afraid.

The homeless man standing beside him beat a hasty retreat. Dirion felt he should be angry at the man but he couldn't blame him. He looked behind him to see not even Fate was nearby. Maybe she wouldn't have to kill him. Dirion went to lean back on the bar, more specifically away from the Drow, and then began to say, "I don't kno-", before he slipped in some of the ale that had started to spill all over the floor.

Right as he slipped Dirion felt something get briefly caught in his cloak. It was yanked out immediately and Dirion looked to see Fate brandishing two fearsome looking hammers. Dirion tried to catch himself on the bar, gripping the edge of it to keep from slipping. He then yelled out, "Fate?!"

He then lost his grip on the bar and fell on his back. Any other day Dirion would have cursed his now bruised body, but not today. Today as he fell he saw a deadly hammer narrowly miss splitting his head open. From his place on the ground Dirion began to quickly shuffle away from Fate on his back.

@ViolentViolet @SilverWolfAngel

I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die.

His vision blurred and life flashed before his eyes, and he could see his mother, his father, even his servants. How sad they would be be when they found that their beloved Edward had passed in a tragic, but honorable death. His mother would sob and wail beside his coffin. Oh cruelty! Don't cry mother! Don't... cry... Why must the good die young? His hearing had faded into near oblivion, and he could just barely make out the sound of Pallas' voice. Oh beautiful Pallas. If only there was time left in life to wed you, and bring you into the family. We could have been happy. But I will die here. How did he get here? Bleeding out from his arm, with no one to save him. He would bleed until he was just a dry shell of skin and bones. Now he could hear other voices too. The voices of angry men off in the distance. But he couldn't hear what they were saying. They would bury him beneath the oak tree, where they buried all of the Hart-Ellington family for generations. For years on this day, he could see his father standing beside his grave, hands behind his back, growing old with sorrow. The Hart-Ellington line would die with him. Edward felt cold, and numbness began to spread throughout his body. He could feel the life draining from within. This was it. It is over. It is over. It is over. I am dead.

Edward fainted and collapsed to the ground clutching his arm, which had long ago stopped bleeding.

Oh, this was chaos. And even if it was fun, things would go bad pretty soon. So, Milo grabbed her drink and did what any reasonable Siren would do to stop a situation. She poured it on her head. It wouldn't last very long, and it wasn't water, but it would allow for what Milo needed to do. Sing one piercing note. A note, not the normal song, but just a single note, one that always seemed to work like a paralyzing potion. It would freeze whoever heard it for a shot period of time unless they were a siren of deaf.

The Elf frowned, the gunman didn't seem to her him or notice enything for that matter. A young woman that looked to be a warrior approached the Elf. She looked angry and told the Elf that he was wrong to accuse the gunman and that he was stabbed in the arm with a knife. The Elf looked embarrassed and said quickly,

"Oh dear! I'm sorry miss I didn't notice his injury, my name is Teldryen Sera."

Teldryen introduced himself with a smile, the girl was atractive and Teldryen was not one to insult a lady. Suddenly the gunman fell from his chair and landed on the floor with a loud thud. Teldryen was surprised and froze on the spot.

@karamonnom@Strafe

---

Fade the Drow did not much like Ealdwine the Bard's singing, so she threw a knife that lodged in the wall by his head. A hush fell over the tavern. The bard, however, was undeterred. He insulted the Drow and commenced once again to sing, much to Fade's fury.

As this was happening, Jargo the Trickster secretly slathered blood on Dirion the Drunkard's neck and convinced him that he had been the target of the knife. Dirion was not pleased.

The smell of this blood caught Fate the Werewolf's sensitive nose, and her eyes began to glow a feral, hungry yellow.

Fade the Drow, with mounting hatred, cast a spell of darkness on Ealdwine the Bard. The Bard was suddenly blinded by an expanding darkness around his head. The music halted once more, and for a few moments the only sound in the tavern was the light conversation at the crowded table (among Edward the Noble, Pallas the Bounty Hunter, Seloria the Blade Teacher, and Luca the Priest). The Drow stepped toward the Bard with evil intent, confident in her power.

While silence fell on the tavern, Jargo the Trickster insulted Edward the Noble then retreated to the bar with a grin. Edward, offended and dignified, stood to defend himself: he pointed his hand-cannon (a curious weapon no one had seen before) at Jargo and loudly demanded an apology.

At this moment, Ealdwine the Bard began to laugh heartily from inside the blinding darkness.

Dirion the Drunkard, feeling he was owed justice for his imagined injury, yelled angry words at Fade's back. Dirion flung a knife at the Drow. The Drow neatly stepped aside and let the knife fly past her.

The knife instead sliced deep into Edward's arm -- the same arm that held the trigger of the hand-cannon.

BANG

Metal pellets exploded out of the hand-cannon. A pellet struck Fade's arm and left her injured and bleeding. Fate the Werewolf clutched her ears, and a pellet grazed over her head. Another pierced Dirion's tankard, and his ale made puddles on the floor. Teldryen the Elf jumped at the shot and spilled his drink.

A pellet struck the Bard's lute, chipping it and breaking a string. Ealdwine's laughter suddenly ceased.

Outside the tavern, Gharlyc the Dwarf was returning with a bottle of wine when he heard the shot. He raced to the tavern and entered through the back door.

It is at this very moment that all Hell broke loose.

The tavern shook with a howling, bloodchilling roar. This was Fate the Werewolf, who had grown a longer snout and a bit more fur, and was very angry indeed. She leaped toward the smell of blood (which source happened to be Dirion the Drunkard) and swung her hammer into a barstool with a CRASH, turning it to splinters. She swung again at Dirion's head -- but Dirion slipped in the puddle of ale and the hammer whiffed harmlessly over his head.

Meanwhile, Ealdwine the Bard screamed a string of horrible obscenities, angry for the injury to his lute. He drew his rapier and charged blindly, slashing and stabbing at everything in his way.

Gharlyc the Dwarf placed himself in Ealdwine's path while he called for the Bard and the Drow to withdraw from violence and make peace.

Seloria the Blade Teacher, at Gharlyc's call for assistance, jumped over a table and parried the Bard's slashes while urging him to calm down.

Edward, shocked at the blood on his arm, fainted dramatically.

Meanwhile, Jargo the Trickster danced on a table and hummed a bizarre tune.

Milo the Siren -- overwhelmed and enraged at the chaos around her -- dumped a pint of watery ale over her head and screeched a high, piercing note that rang in everyone's ears.

This was a Siren spell of paralysis: all who heard it are now unable to move.

When she noticed Edward had begun to lose consciousness, Pallas quickly moved in attempt to catch Edward before he hit the floor but was too late. She knelt down onto the floor and held him in her arms gently."Oh...Poor Edward. He fainted," she sighed with complete sympathy. She glanced back at the elf who had apologized for his misunderstanding. "It's okay, I am Pa-..." She wanted to say more, at least finish her sentence but for some reason she could not move. It had to be the work of the young siren, as she recalled hearing a loud, sharp note. "Was she trying to help restore peace in the tavern or did she want to kill us all?" Pallas wondered to herself. But she did not seem to do more besides that. Still, Pallas did not like being frozen and hoped that the spell would wear off soon. Especially since she needed to take Edward to see a healer or something...
@Benjimus@Strafe

The lady had knelt over the gunman while speaking to Teldryen, he thought to himself, "She must be a friend of this man, he is looking pretty bad maybe I can help." Suddenly the lady stopped speaking in mid sentence and sort of froze in the spot. Teldryen looked confused. He frowned and asked the lady,

"Um, excuse me miss are you ok? Can I help you, your looking a little fazed."

She didn't anwser and Teldryen looked concerned, he had just met this lady, he didn't even know her name but he was still concerned. Teldryen then realized he was also frozen! He was afraid and didn't know what to do.
@karamonnom @Strafe

@NorthernGR
Dirion had started to back away, a clever move as Fate had taken the time he spent toppling over to bring one hammer up behind her, pounding it into the ground where he had just been. She hissed, shifting more as she followed him, pummeling the ground with her hammers, leaving cracks in the cobble. Her skull started cracking, re-shifting it's configuration, Her bones creaking as they grew. Slamming her hammer into the ground once more, Fate tipped her head back to scream, shifting hurt, but as she reached for her voice, she found herself moving as if in honey, until she froze, wolf head tilted back on a slightly furry, but still very human, body. Her scream frozen before it passed her fangs.

Fade had heard the slight intake of breath behind her, the splash of water and the first hint of the young siren going to sing. She'd only ever encountered one of the creatures before and never against them, merely watch as they destroyed such a great level of civilization that she knew what could happen if that note finished the way it should. She dropped, speaking in that split second that it took her to throw the blade through the air toward her and vanish from few as she whispered her true, elvish name. Invisible she was barely able to begin to propel herself upward before she was frozen mid-word and, thankfully, continued to float until the invisible Drow woman was crouching in the air near the ceiling. It was not something she enjoyed either, being stuck though as that swift reaction had possibly saved her life, she may have mortally wounded the siren and would have to act fast as soon as the paralysis wore off. She wanted that siren's song and she would have it, even if she had to kill the child to do it.

@BlackCat

Milo saw the knife but couldn't dodge it. It flew straight at Milo, sailing towards her torso. Milo gasped and looked down slightly, the knife firmly lodged in her chest. Blood was oozing from the wound.Her hand moved to her chest. She wasn't going to pull out the knife, it would cause more blood loss. But, there was blood. Blood. Plenty of it. Milo had to keep calm. No torture, no killing, no violence right now. The can't move, and paralyzed victims are no fun. So no matter how much blood there was Milo shouldn't revert back to the good old days of torture. Not now.

The veil of supernatural darkness lifted from the bard's eyes, and for a brief moment he could see his target before him. Her magic was strong, that could not be denied. But by all that was good and holy he would drive his blade through her heart ere the sun rose again!

As Ealdwine came into striking distance, however, a dwarf inserted himself into his path. He said something to the drow, and deflected a stab intended for her, before turning to him.

“And you, Bard! Still yourself for a moment before you do me an injury! I have no quarrel with you. Perhaps we can reach an accommodation to appease you as well?"

It was certainly a tempting offer, Ealdwine knew, and would likely serve to alleviate his existential needs. But he was not thinking very rationally. The insults he had suffered must be repaid. Preferably in blood. He made to strike another blow, this one past the dwarf.

It was deflected again, this time by a strange, heavily-bandaged woman. She spoke hurriedly.

"Wait wait wait, this is a huge misunderstanding, honest! There is no need to kill people now is there?????"

Now this really was ridiculous. The quarrel was between himself and the drow. Who were these people, that would deny a man his honorable due? He made ready to stab again, calling out to the three before him.

“I am Ealdwine, son of Eadmund, of the Silverstrings! And-”

And. And. And, he could no longer move his mouth. Or, for that matter, any other part of his body. A horrible shrieking sounded. Some more damned magic, but not from his opponent, this time. It must have been some kind of spell. Curses! Were bards not supposed to be resistant to sonic effects? If he still had his tomes, he would have made a point to double check.

As it stood, he tried with all his might to attack the drow. But for naught. Just as well, she had disappeared! Ealdwine felt dimly aware, in the back of his mind, that he had chosen the wrong tavern that evening. Too many strange occurrences. He would have to take the dwarf up on his offer, just as soon as he could move again.

This moment of non-consensual peace did afford him the opportunity to scope out the crowd, however. In addition to those he had seen before, he saw an elf and a priest of some kind. The young lordling was on the ground, for whatever reason. Ealdwine squinted at the crumpled figure, and recognition dawned in his eyes. The man's identity had been bothering him since he had first entered the Bawdy Dog, and now he knew! It was Edward, his former student. Scion of the House of Hart-Ellington, the family his father had served faithfully for decades.

Maybe he had not chosen the wrong tavern after all.

Ah well. It was a good life. I suppose I never did get to see the rest of the world, but what can be done? I feel awfully heavy though. I'd imagine that it's time I got started on my stay in purgatory. This'll take quite a bit of time. Heheh.

Edward felt a stirring from within. Perhaps it was the afterlife calling. It felt awfully cushy, though it smelled rather musty and dank... rather like that accursed tavern he had died in.

Slowly, he cracked open the lids of his eyes, and through the blurry haze he could make out a beautiful figure above him. Strange, he thought. This doesn't seem quite as bad as that old geezer Priest back at home said. But as his eyes regained their full spectrum, he gasped in shock. It was Pallas! She sat above him frozen like a doll, cradling him gently in her arms. In terror, he shot up, stumbling away from her statue like arms into the center of the tavern. His eyes darted back and forth, trying to gain his bearings.

It was The Bawdy Dog. He calmed down a bit, though his fear turned to dubious curiosity. His purgatory was a recreation of The Bawdy Dog, complete with still figures, like perfectly cast wax dolls of all the people who were present when he died. He exhaled in wonderment. Why did it turn out this way? And why the odd decoration?

He looked around again, to see what strange statues he'd spend the next several hundred years with.

The bloody feather clad demon who mocked him earlier was laid out across the table, caught in a pose that looked like a dance. He clicked his tongue in disgust.

His unsavory former music instructor was frozen in a duel with the scantily clad bandaged woman. Ugh. Now his smug face will haunt me for years.

A short dwarf stood in between them, appearing to be calling for peace.

The priest stood by Pallas, with a stern expression at the drunk, who was lying on his back with a panicked look on his face.

The unkind wolf girl bartender was frozen in a scream.

The bartender and the barmaid were frozen in fear.

The young girl was hunched over, breathing heavily, clutching at her bloodied chest, where a knife was lodged.

At least that odd grey skinned girl was nowhere to be found.

Wait. Edward’s head turned slowly to Milo. She was moving, and panting for air, appearing to be in dire need of immediate medical assistance.

What a dreadful apparition, thought Edward, not thinking for a second that he should help her.

He sighed, and sauntered over to the bar, taking a pensive sip from one of the tankards on the countertop as he surveyed the room again. This was reality for the next several hundred years, so he might as well get used to it.

He made his way back to the frozen duel, pulling off Seloria’s cloak and throwing it over Ealdwine’s face. At least that would help for at least several decades.

At the center of the tavern, he laid back into the bust of Pallas (oho), bemusedly cradling her concerned face in his hands. He smiled for a bit, before his expression faded into resignation. There would be no exit. At least not for a long while.

“Well, well, let’s get on with it.”

Gharlyc would of shat himself from the panic of not being able to move, if he were able to move...

Blasted siren for freezing everyone... Blasted drow, vanishing like that... Blast Gharlyc himself for even popping back into the tavern while all these angry lunatics are mucking about...

Blast...

---

Busker and Wink had been huddled under the bar, their hands over their ears, when the siren song froze them.

The Drow was invisible and still deadly.

And Edward, who had been unconscious and thus immune to Milo's spell, was free to move about but certain he had awoken in Purgatory. No help would be had from him.

Milo lay bleeding -- dying -- and not one of them had brought a healing spell.

If only there were some deux ex machina to resolve the dire turn of events.

---

Edward had only just laid down his head when --

BLAM -- the door slammed open; icy wind burst into the tavern and the siren's spell was broken. Like a flipped switch, the patrons of the tavern could move once again.

While Wink cowered under the bar, Busker clambered heroically to his feet. He gripped the bar, scowling at the splintered stools and broken flagstones, the blood on the floor and the alarming absence of the Drow.

"EVERYONE OUT!" Busker roared, his beady eyes bugged with fear and rage. "Leave your money on the tables and get out of my establishment! Take your injured with you, I --"

Busker was suddenly cut off when a needle shot out from the doorway and pierced his throat. He stood gurgling, pale with confused horror, the needle protruding from his quivering neck.

Wink, on the floor behind the bar, screamed.

---

Three masked figures stood in the doorway, dressed in pristine white and gold. They appeared to be faceless: the gold masks they wore were smooth and void of any human feature; there were no holes for eyes, only blank shining gold where the face should be. Each was clothed or wrapped from head to toe; there was no skin to be seen between the folds of white and gold cloth.

These were a few of those known throughout the kingdoms as the Salvagers. They were known for their silence, their smooth and efficient killing, and for taking objects and people of power. They were quiet pillagers and silent murderers, and they had been attracted by the shot of a hand-cannon and the scream of a siren.

One of them held a fistful of needles in his bandaged hand. He tipped his head slightly and shot a needle directly at Fade, who was invisible to all who could see.

One of them held a long dagger, and moved around the hearth, past the bard, with the intention to simply take Edward's hand-cannon for himself.

The third, who carried a scimitar, stepped into the tavern, heading directly for Milo with silent steps.

There were two well-known rumors about the Salvagers. One was that they never left anyone alive who had seen them. The other was that each Salvager carried with him a bottle of elixir that could cure every ill or injury.

Busker collapsed behind the bar, and Wink sobbed.

Milo coughed, expelling blood. She was badly wounded. She woukd die of blood loss. Then something dawned on Milo. The Salvagers were said to have an all-powerful healing elixir. And there was blood. Milo gathered some courage and dipped her hand into her blood and began to draw.
"Demon Summoning," Milo coughed again. She could barely talk. The blood was slowing for some vocal communication.
"Come to me, Protector," Milo said, summoning her most trusted demon, Protector. A demon who would insure his master's safety. He tuned to Milo and then back to the Salvager. If the Salvager tried to hurt Milo, Protector would try to kill it.