The sudden sound of a cave-in, complete with harrowing screams and what sounded like insectoid chirping obviously caught the attention of the other two dwarven groups down below. Just as one rounded a corner to where Xallihion and his thralls were in wait, they spun around to come to their brethrens' aid. As they did so, the backs of all ten dwarves were turned to Xallihion and the ambushers. There would only be an instant before they were back around the corner and out of that chamber, but if Xallihion and his dwarves seized the moment they would take their enemies by complete surprise and from behind, no less. So surely their ambush would make short work of the search party, but of course that's assuming that they act quickly enough.

Meanwhile, the other ten meandering through the tunnels also heard the commotion. The stone tunnels were deathly silent and echoed well, after all. Fortunately, that would mean that the sound of pounding footsteps would alert to Clotho to the impending arrival of even more dwarves. Stumbling into the lone survivor who was on his way back up to the main halls, they were told that it was only a cave-in. Yet there was clearly something not right...

A mere collapse did not explain all of the sounds that they had heard, and how often was it that dwarven miners caused cave-ins, anyways? The strange look in that one's eyes was also suspicious, but it was the sudden smell of burnt flesh that was the most damning piece of evidence. The dwarves all drew their weapons, eyes nervously looking down the tunnel that the survivor had emerged from. After a short argument, they decided to leave the survivor unaided for a few moments as they went to investigate the 'cave-in'.



Upon seeing Athinar charging down the one street that hadn't suddenly become blocked by walls that appeared of thin air, some of the guards had moved to block him. Of course, the first few soldiers to approach were quickly mauled by the savage. As those nearest to him stumbled backwards and away, a figure that had hanged back came forward: clothed in extravagant blue robes, she was clearly one of the local priestesses to Unda, and surely a powerful sorceress. She raised a fist high into the eye whilst muttering some prayer to the water goddess, and the ground beneath her feet began to grow wet as she summoned water from deep below.

Then there was suddenly a flash of orange and a fiery explosion, then another, and then another. Her eyes darted to the rooftops to see Balothiss as he rained down fireballs on those below. The guards that were struck by the magical flames howled, boiling alive within their own melting armor. Shrieking for vengeance, she pulled up several globs of water from the growing pool at her feet. They levitated next to her for a few moments, then froze into icy spikes and flew towards Balothiss like bullets.

Suddenly, she brought up both hands. Rather than a mere glob of water, an entire pool now hanged in the air above her head. Shouting once more, she threw her arms forward and the mass of water surged forward. With a horrific boom it smashed into the stone building and washed over it before freezing solid. Perhaps Balothiss and Cold Stare could have dodged it if they jumped off the rooftop, but staying there would mean being encased in a block of ice.

As one of the last few guards pushed her aside, fleeing back to the town square, she spun around to look at Athinar. Before that brute could get to her, she intended to have him choking on the ground. Leaping back to put more distance between herself and him, she pointed a finger at his chest. At first nothing seemed to happen, small tufts of smoke just seemed to waft from Athinar's chest. But she did not use fire magic and that was no smoke. The vapor steaming off his body was his sweat as it rapidly evaporated, but even once the sweat covering Athinar had all gone, the steam continued. More water was being pulled out of his body by his magic, and soon enough the blood would come pouring out as well as he was rapidly dried out. Athinar had best get out of her line of sight or otherwise interrupt her spell, else he would quickly find himself too dehydrated and weak to even stand.

Back in the town square, Torrens' attacks had caught everyone's attention. A mob of guards broke off and moved to charge the alley where their attacker cowered, but a quick cry stopped them. One of the High Priests advanced forwards, telling the others that they needed to stay in the square and await their lord. He would face the fiery monster alone.

Perhaps Torrens had noticed this man, his status made clear with magnificent silk robes worthy of any noble. Indeed, when Torrens had first popped out this mage had thought him some sort of elemental and shouted out an incantation in an unsuccessful attempt to banish him from this world. But then again, in the chaos of the short skirmish Torrens might not have noticed.

In any case, that lone priest ran towards Torrens' alley. The fire demon would soon find himself face to face with a powerful sorcerer, though undoubtedly not one that he had expected: this man was a High Priest of Caldor! His magic invoked the flames and warmth; not the ice and water that Torrens feared. But if the fire demon underestimated him, that would prove a grave mistake. Whispering a prayer to mighty Caldor, Fiery Lord of Justice and Conquest, that priest found the bravery to round the corner mere inches away from Torrens. The priest could feel the demons' heat even from there, but it was nothing like the heat of Caldor that already emanated from the priest's heart. This man would not be so easily burnt, at least not by normal flames. Caldors' blessing would allow him to be wreathed in holy flames and come out unharmed. Torrens would have to find another way to defeat him.

Quite accurately guessing Torrens' nature, the High Priest had determined that his best chance of defeating this adversary would be to drain him of all eat. For that end, as soon as he saw Torrens he would try to manipulate the heat within the demon's body and pull it outwards. Perhaps the resulting explosion of fire would destroy a nearby building or two, but in the man's mind that was a small price to pay to rid the world of such evil.

Meanwhile, one of the walls summoned by Narza suddenly exploded as a great warrior slammed his fist into it and reduced it to splinters. Leaping over the rubble came a great knight, clad in armor that shone bright not from polish but by the magical enchantments that had been imbued within it. With that magical armor and a great sword and shield to match, he looked every part a holy champion of men. The knight ran into the middle of the town square. "To me, to me!" the knight cried out to the defenders, for he was lord of this town. Granted, being bombarded by Torrens just a moment ago after being suddenly boxed in by walls had left the defenders panicking, but they would soon be rallied unless someone else created even more chaos or tried to take the village's lord out of the picture.

Torrens was somewhat surprised at first that only one sorcerer was sent against him, but as soon as he felt a magical force attempt to drain his power he knew that they had thought this one through. The sorcerer would find that not all of Torrens' energy could be extracted at once (which is probably just as well, considering how much damage it could do), but he could sharply increase the rate of heat loss from Torrens. The consequences of this on the surroundings was that no liquid water or oil existed near him after less than a second (save for that in the sorcerer), wind hotter than that of a blast furnace rushed through the side streets, and in seconds the stone ground and nearby walls would start melting. This rapid drain was a serious concern for Torrens, as if this continued for too many seconds he would be too weak to fight.

At point blank, Torrens' first move was to go for the face of his opponent, grabbing it with his hand. Normally, this move was fatal against creatures of flesh, but when the sorcerer pulled Torrens' hand away from his face Torrens was shocked to find that there was not so much as a mark where there should have been a horribly melted face. But Torrens was far from a one trick demon and he was very quick on his feet. Perceiving his foe's total immunity to heat, that he had no way to win a simple physical contest in a few seconds, and the desperation of the situation, Torrens shoved him palm up to the priest's chest and channeled dozens of megajoules of thermal energy into the separating millimeters of air in an imperceptible fraction of time.

This energy represented the chemical energy from a whole bag of coal burned in a furnace. Coal has an energy density eight times greater than that of gunpowder, although coal normally releases this energy very slowly. Torrens, however, had no chemical limitations on how quickly he could release that energy. As such, the energy which had originally been in a bag of coal was now released in a manner akin to a detonating barrel of gunpowder, or perhaps an even more violent explosive, at point blank to a human. While the explosion would also harm himself, he should fare much better than the creature of flesh before him. And if by some miracle the explosion didn't tear the priest in half, or rupture his internal organs (and, considering this is a priest, miracles aren't out of the question), then at least he should be stunned long enough to give Torrens some time to find the upper hand.

Balothiss was normal at one point then he was frozen the next he felt the cold getting to him it should have killed him but he was too angry to die to a spell so weak compared to his ability to cast his innate magic.

He felt the ice around him grow warm as he summoned fire balls but they merely looked like heat signatures in the dark on the ice and as the ice began melting he began putting more effort into the flames which turned from just orange red to fiery blue with a hint of yellow as his head freed from the ice he bellowed loudly with anger and he looked around to see 'Cold stare' stuck in ice as well.

It took him about 10 minutes to free himself from his icy tomb but Balothiss was determined not to die at any cost and he surely would not die at the hands of the blue robed person who froze him.

Balothiss started melting areas and he began trying to free 'Cold stare' making sure to try and not burn him with the fire that he summoned.

Once he freed him Balothiss looked at him and said with annoyance and rage.

@Markofkri

"I am not pleased at all by this blue robed person who froze us I want to tear the bastard limb by limb and burn the coward to death in his final moments of breath!"

Balothiss huffed and his eyes were blood shot and irritated from the melted water that got into his eyes.

"Let's go kill that filthy bastard!"

And with that Balothiss motioned for 'Cold stare' to follow him as he melted his way out of the ice and it took quite a long time but they found themselves out of the ice without trouble at all.

"What do we do now?"

He asked 'Cold stare' who was constantly viewing what he was doing but not at all saying anything to Balothiss.

"What are our options!"

Balothiss asked.

Cold stare was quiet. The ice affected him not in the least he simply stayed in the spot awaiting the other to break free. He saw the one who froze the warrior and the question asked had the same answer Cold stare applied to the dwellers of this village. As a reflex he brought his blade vertically to his hood and then swung it wide in front of him. The fallen defender thought, Evil must spread if they are to learn their lesson. This user of ice definitely stood in the way.

Cold stare advanced in the direction the caster was last seen he ignored obstacles and barriers moving through them. killing cowards who used them to hide. The further he got from the fires the faster his cold aura returned. This night would not be the night for a savior. This was not cold stares night either, it belonged to righteous evil in all its dark purity. He was merely a vessel for the wrong in this world to find expression. Cold stare followed the trail that caster left behind, his warmth of life would be his demise.

Balothiss followed close behind Cold stare who didn't answer his question verbally but he did it through action and the answer was 'Kill' and Balothiss smiled as he ran behind Cold stare.

He cleaved his sword from his left to his right cutting down anywho jumped in his way Balothiss was painted in blood and he had a determined look on his face a deep frown as he followed along behind Cold stare who was hacking down guards and focusing keenly on the caster with murderous intent in his eyes.

Cold stare wanted to kill the caster as much as he did so he followed along minding his surroundings making sure he would be ready if he was going to be surprised by an opponent and he was careful to keep a close eye out for other spellcasters.

Xallihion will immediately attack the second the Dwarves turn their backs to the ambushers, his mental command ringing in the minds of his slaves, Kill them. With a drawing of power and a single wave of his hand, Spectral Tentacles will erupt from the walls of the tunnel, blocking the Dwarves retreat and even snaring two of the unlucky Dwarves, crushing and ripping their bodies apart as the rest of the Dwarven patrol freezes in place. At the same time, Xallihion's five slaves will rush out and charge down the tunnel towards the Dwarves, their mining picks at the ready as they close in on the patrol. The patrol will turn in time to see them and most will be able to respond to the sudden attack from the slaves by drawing their weapons.

Xallihion's mental voice will ring out, loud enough to be heard by all in the tunnel, You are mine now slaves. Bow before your new Master. With his powerful mind, Xallihion breaks the weak mental barriers that most of the patrol have around their minds, with five of the Dwarves dropping to the ground as he rips their will from them. The slaves show their worth by holding the remaining three Dwarves busy, but they suffer terrible wounds in doing so. Drawing his wand, Xallihion will point it at the remaining members of the patrol and will activate its power, launching a barrage of six arrows of pure force at them. The arrows speed down the tunnel unerringly as they slam two at a time into the three Dwarves, blowing large holes into them and quickly killing them.

Stand up Slaves, your Master demands it. The five Dwarves that Xallihion ripped the will from begin twitching before standing up and standing there, their faces blank as they await their new master's orders. Gather anything of use, weapons and armor, for it seems that someone has begun to finally play the Game. Walking past the new Slaves, Xallihion will dispel the Spectral Tentacles from the tunnel, waiting just long nough for his slaves, wounded or not, to quickly scavage the corpses and form up behind him. Let us go see what this new player has brought to the Game, and with that, Xallihion will lead his force down the tunnel excitement beginning to rise from inside his cold calculating heart.

As the sorceress was abandoned by her guards, Athinar kept moving forward, breaking the fleeing ranks of men like so much water upon a stone. Then, the street before the sorceress and himself was suddenly clear for the nine meters ahead. Sprinting across the gap, Athinar had halved the distance, when she turned her attention back to the massive fighter, pointing at him. Immediately, Athinar knew that she had cast some kind of spell. A hex. Dehydration. It'll make me shrivel up, and then make my blood escape. Athinar paused, cocking his head. Where had that come from? (Anyone with soul sensing abilities would be able to feel the pressure from Athinar.) Shaking his head like a dog, he began to run forward, only to be forced to stop in his tracks, and fall to his knees. He started gasping, his lungs now dry. Head pounding, tinges of black fading into his vision.

Would he be stopped like this, by a puny mage? No! Roaring with rage, even through the dehydration, time seemed to stop, and the borders of the world seemed to liquefy, like quicksilver. A dark mist poured out through the surrounding alleyways, and swirled around Athinar. Circling him, as if studying him, the mist spoke.

So... you don't want to die here?

Athinar said nothing, because he couldn't move. The mist flew closer, until it was in his face.

I suppose I could help you out a bit.

As the mist faded, and time seemed to flow, a black, featureless figure waved at the edges of his vision, ominously.

We'll be in touch.

And then with a snap, time returned. Athinar stood up fully, without the feeling of being choked. Looking down at himself, steam still rose from his body, but it stopped almost instantly. In his hands, was a black, guardless, hand-and-a half sword, one that had several dull runes engraved into the blade. It was about half a foot wide, and three feet long. Curious, Athinar waved it around a bit. It was weightless. Curious. Shrugging, and cracking his neck, he grinned. Whatever happened, it had rendered the sorceress' spell ineffective.

Pouncing towards the priestess, he cut horizontally, chopping the woman in half. Her torso flew upwards, spraying beautiful blood, and her legs stayed standing, spurting like a geyser. The look on the woman's face was that of extreme surprise and terror, at which Athinar began laughing madly, baying like an animal. Looking around at the other guards, he saw some knight in shining armor. Literally. Growling, he sprinted, holding the sword easily. If anyone got in his way, he would barrel through them, shoving them out of the way.

(Note: Anyone who was in position to see the mist come out from the surrounding alleyways, would only see smoke pour out, and in a cyclone, turn into the blade in Athinar's hands. It happened almost too quickly to see, so if you were distracted, you would've missed it. Narza would have felt an immense power, unstoppable by herself, pass through the walls of 'us'.)

The days had gone well enough for the two adventurers, Putting a kind inquest with others for their 'missing' companions they were still waiting in town for. The town was known as 'Mossgate' for the thick stone walls covered in the green growth that seemed to never stay off no matter what, dozens of bards had dozens of tales why the moss would grow so abundantly and they had heard them all. The big walls lead to archer towers which would make for difficulty with the few hundred guards of the few thousand inside meant that at least one in ten could fight with true knights to call in for guidance and reinforcements.

After barking around for long enough, he managed to get directed to the tower that housed the mage guild. He made a bargain with them to try and combine the heat enchantment of the dagger and the reflective spell of the shield in order to make a new enchantment to reflect fire. IF they could make that for him, he would let them keep the three magic items he brought with him. He also had a chance to recharge his wand on his arm from all the mounts he had been summoning. Tinkerhell was quite crucial in getting the wizards to comply with his requests and maintain their silence.

Next he went to the mapmakers to get the most detailed layout of the city possible, down to the spaces between stores. He took that map and had four perfect copies made measured out to the inch. Those three copies found their ways into the hands of best woodcarvers in the city, each tasked with taking a quarter of the town to make little buildings for a scale model with enough detail that he could pour water down the street and watch it trickle between alleys. None of this was cheep, but you would be amazed how easily the simplest charming spells and a sack of gold does wonders to put one at the top of the list of projects.

Wizards and warriors can protect the city, but it is the temple that protects the faith. Here is where tinkethell would falter if she were truly unholy and not just wholly amoral. Gossip and rumor were the meal of the day as the two took turns twisting every word from any mouth on either side to something worse. The seeds of distrust got planted to water in the temple of the sea and fan the fires of their goddes while the order of light was founding themselves in righteous indignation at perceived sleights.

All in all it was going well when the trouble of faith means that one in ten at temple was a warrior on the wall.

Umbra stood silently watching the situation unfold in front of him. The priestess had what seemed like an unbreakable grip on Athinar, only for something strange to happen. In almost an instant Athinar had defeated the mage, and suddenly held a strange sword in his hand. Soon attention turned towards the knight.

Umbra quickly took action and found a nearby archer, terrified and confused, attempting to flee from a nearby rooftop, a perfect target. Charging towards the man he quickly possessed the archer and took aim towards the knight. “This chaos is making it difficult to aim” he scowled, but time wasn’t on his side as Athinar had begun blindly charging towards the knight himself. Feeling almost pressured Umbra took the shot anyways, managing to strike him squarely in the shoulder.

Both the soldiers and the knight looked confused, most likely wondering if it had been friendly fire or an enemy arrow. Suddenly, the wound began to freeze. It wouldn’t be long until his entire shoulder would go numb, but by the looks of it, they wouldn’t live long enough to find that out. Athinar was quickly closing the gap between them, and their attention had turned elsewhere. “Not exactly a killing blow, but Athinar can handle the rest.” Umbra quietly muttered.

The human village

Torrens' sudden explosion would have left any normal pyromancer with a mere half second to prepare, but the fire priest had seen it coming. Whether his god had whispered it into his mind or it had been a mere intuition, he had suddenly raised his fists as if to block a punch. A wall of solid fire appeared in front of his body to shield him, the flames glowing gold like the sun rather than orange or red.

When the explosion came a magical shield wasn't enough to stop it, flames or no. At first he had leaned forward into the unstoppable force, skidding backwards but not falling over, but then the magic of his shield shattered like a glass mirror. The blast overcame him and threw him backwards, where he was thrown on the ground, tumbling and rolling until he was stopped by a stone wall. His head slammed straight into it and blood spattered like juice from a crushed grape. The explosion had obliterated the stone walls to either side of the alley that Torrens had been in and the insides of those houses were already turning into a pyre for the terrified people who cowered within.

Yet despite being hit with an explosion that shattered stone walls, engulfed in fire that could melt steel, and slammed against a wall with enough force to crack open his skull, the priest somehow clung to life. He knew that he didn't have long, but perhaps long enough to have his vengeance. "Caldor curse you, demon!" he choked out barely loud enough to be heard, then raised a fist. His arm was weak and shaking, but he poured everything that he had left and all that Caldor would lend him into that one last spell.

Fire priests did not only work with flame; they also maintained the sacred torches and burned holy incense, and so they wielded a great deal of power over smoke as well. The smoke and ash from everything within a hundred feet began to waft upwards and coalesce into a great, malevolent cloud. Torches, candles, even the burning houses...all their fumes were magically pulled together into a great grey cloud. The priest's last sight was that of the cloud descending on his killer like some sort of living nightmare, engulfing the fire demon. Seemingly with a mind of its own, the cloud would try to choke out Torrens' fire, encasing him in a layer of ash and tar and blinding him within a choking cloud of soot.

In the square, the great brute that was Athinar suddenly charged out of an alleyway straight towards the town's lord, knocking aside one guard in his way by delivering a blow to the head that crushed the man's skull. He didn't even cover half the distance before about ten crossbowmen took aim. Twang, twang, twang was the sound that the weapons made as the sinews fired their quarrels. Athinar was moving fast, to be sure, but with so many crossbows on him a few bolts would most likely find their targets.

His attention caught by the whistlign of the sudden hail of bolts and cries of alarm, the knightly lord raised his sword and prepared to fell this enemy. This barbaric invader.

But then an arrow struck him in the shoulder. Of course, the arrow's tip couldn't even find its way through his shoulder, but it had some sort of enchantment. A thin layer of ice began to coat his shoulder, rapidly seeping into the seams of his armor and freezing it solid. His arm rapidly grew immobile. With only a second to think, the knight made the decision to hurl his shield straight at Athinar and then take up his sword in his other arm.

As some of the crossbowmen and sorcerers in the square now began to fire at the traitorous archer on the rooftops that was Umbra, the champion realized that fighting a fair fight with his bad arm was suicide. His enemy wasn't honorable...why should he be? He would fight dirty and take his foe off guard. With a flick of his wrist the sword flew up, and the knight caught it again. This time he hand held the sword by its blade instead of by its hilt. As if it were some sort of warhammer, he swung the thing and aimed to smash its guard and hilt into Athinar's face. Then he snapped the blade back low to hook the man by the ankle with the guard, and he pulled with all his strength in an attempt to take out Athinar's feet from beneath him and send the brute crashing onto the ground.

The explosion had thrown Torrens back as much as it did the priest of Caldor, although unlike the Caldorian priest he was immune to physical injury, so he was able to stand back up again. Standing and intact though he was, the effort exerted and the blow taken had reduced Torrens' incandescence below visible levels in this fire-lit alley and his hue had changed to a appreciably darker shade of red. He noticed that the priest was on the brink of death- his body not torn apart by the explosion but his head mortally wounded from and impact against a wall. He also saw the priest utter one last spell. His eyes followed the flow of smoke to a point above his head, where it formed an utterly monstrous black cloud. Torrens had barely started running when the cloud dived, but he was not able to outrun that beast and was swallowed whole.

Blackness. The thick layer of soot, tar and ash covering his entire body made it impossible for Torrens to see and dulled the rest of his perception. However, the priest had erred in assuming this would kill him, or even harm him. Torrens did not store his energy has live fire, and so required no oxygen. Instead, it was stored as thermal energy, which could not be smothered or destroyed, only lost and transferred. One interesting side effect that he noted was that the covering over his body acted as an excellent insulator, such that almost all his passive heat loss had stopped. However, the insulation also meant that he couldn't conjure any fire or absorb heat from outside. It would have to go.

Being blind and having his movement restricted made any attempt at doing anything very difficult, and that the enchantment on the smoke lingered for some time made it impossible for him to make any progress for about a minute. However, with the caster dead and the smoke dispersing, the magic soon began to fade, and it was not long before Torrens had managed to scrape enough tar off his face for him to see again.

Having reached that milestone, Torrens was able to assess the situation. Single-handedly, he had managed to kill what must have been one of the town's champions, and of that he was proud, but the main battle was not over yet. Athinar was fighting a mighty knight, and much of the guard force and priests remained. However, in this state Torrens could not help. He was too weak, and needed to recharge first. Spotting a nearby column of smoke lit by a large fire from below, Torrens approached the burning buildings, scraping off more of the tar as he went. Into what had been some hall he entered, basking in the inferno which had earlier engulfed the building. As he absorbed, the fire grew ever hotter and hungrier in order to keep up with demand. After only a minute the building had been so consumed by this fire that it collapsed and the fire died down as fuel ran short.

Refreshed, and mostly clean, Torrens jogged back to the main street. By now the champion Athinar was facing would probably be dead, and all that should remain would be the guards and ordinary priests, which would not present a major challenge. Shukra's orcs might have managed to make it to the battle by now as well, which would make even shorter work of the remaining resistance. But Torrens didn't mind having to go to do this bit of cleaning up. It should be easy enough to be enjoyable, even.

Ever sensitive to vibrations and noises, the swarm queen was well aware of the encroaching dwarves. They, however, did not know what hit them. Feeling a rather vicious mood today, Clotho sped toward the source of the noises, dragonfly wings aflutter and rapier bared. At her nigh-unmatchable speed, she was in the midst of the dwarves before most could even see her, let alone organize some endeavor at defense. Not sacrificing even a single kilogram meter per second of momentum, Clotho went into a corkscrew dive with her rapier in front, and dove not into but through the first dwarf, severing his spinal cord and bursting out the other side. Panicked yells and wild swings of weapons did not stop her onslaught. With expert precision, Clotho inserted her rapier's point into a vital organ before abruptly pulling it out again, removing the remains of that organ and anything in the immediate vicinity along with it, courtesy of the barbs.

However, two of the dwarves kept their heads, the squad leader and a stalwart veteran apparently, and for a moment Clotho found herself engaged in a two-versus-one duel. With her momentum now gone, she hovered in the air in front of the dwarves, testing out their reaction times with exploratory thrusts and quick, whipping slashes. They both displayed a remarkable aptitude for survival, and Clotho could not help but feel a small sort of respect toward these foes. Peeling off, she consciously allowed herself to access her adrenaline reservoir, and her image jittered before seemingly splitting apart, one of her heading left and the other right. It was a fifty-fifty guess to which side she would be attacking, and the dwarves each chose a different direction to cover, one with a broad axe and the other with a hammer and shield.

Then Clotho's images realigned, directly above both of the diminutive humanoids' heads. She lashed out in a dual kick, one to each hairy noggin, and one of them dropped to his knee, stunned. The other, hearing the murmur of her wings, had moved his head to dilute a powerful strike into a glancing blow, and he swung toward Clotho's foot with his axe. For once, the swarm queen didn't move quite fast enough, and a reddish pus thicker than blood welled from the wound. The next instant, however, she dived down and injected him with her stinger, bringing him under her influence just as she had with the previous survivor. Two told a more convincing tale than one, she thought, though she also hoped two would be enough; there was no more prototype toxin left.

After mercifully finishing the other dwarf with a thrust to the back of the neck, and disposing the body by dragging it into a nearby pit, she listened carefully against one of the walls. There was a certain tremor reaching her, impossible to tell of course if it was one of her own or the enemy, but either suited her fine. Clotho darted down the tunnel and toward the area where Xahillion lay in wait.

As Xallihion comes to the end of the tunnel, he will reach out his mind, feeling for any other sentient minds in the immediate vicinity. Sensing three minds, like candles in a dark room, not far from his position and will stop to see what happens as two of the candles are snuffed out. Hmm, Seems like this creature might be strong enough to serve me well. With the final Mind moving towards him, Xallihion will step out and turn down the tunnel, determined to see this creature and see if it might be skilled enough to serve him. With his slaves following behind him, Xallihion will move quickly, his milky white eyes piercing the darkness almost as if it wasn't there as he catches sight of the female insect like creature. Stopping in the middle of the tunnel and giving a mental command to his slaves to stay back, Xallihion will reach out and touch the mind of the creature with his thoughts to give it the chance to join him willingly.

As his mind touches her mind, Xallihion's touch will recoil quickly as he senses the two minds that are fused together in this creature. Quickly recovering and thinking to himself of the leaders of his race, Apparently my people aren't the only ones who fuse their minds together for power. Reaching out with his mind again, Xallihion will touch her mind and this time will recognize her mind as the one attached to the bug his slave brought to him. So, you are the one that has jumped into the Game I was playing with these slaves. Tell me, are you strong eough to be a Player or a Piece?

It was done.

Twich closed and sealed the lid on the second cauldron, the kobold wiping his brow a little before stepping outside of his lab/lair in order to recruit some imps in order to carry the bloody things to the dwarves via Clotho's tunnels. If anything had been learned from the operation so far it was that a means for team members to communicate with each other over long or medium distances needed to be created as soon as possible; For all he knew Clotho's swarm had been discovered by the dwarves and there was currently a full scale war between her forces, the dwarves and some sort of squid monster army that had been living in the lower mines that they had not been aware of or been able to account for until now.

Granted, the squid monster army was a bitof a wild card but the point remained that reliable communication between team mates was going to be a must in the future. Besides, poisonous gas worked on squid monsters, right?

It didn't take long to gather his carrier imps together and get the cauldrons moving down the tunnels that Clotho's bugs had left behind. For the security of the dungeon they were going to have to be caved in once all was said and done but for now they were useful; Twich and the imps were creatures of tunnels by nature and even weighed down by the cauldrons progress should have been rather quick.

He just hoped the situation hadn't gotten to far out of claw in the meantime.

Balothiss stopped his onslaught and decided to duck into an alley nearby where he came face to face with a couple of knights who attacked him as soon as he appeared Balothiss threw a punch at the nearest knight who was sent flying into the wall and Balothiss heard the mans back break the other knight backed up and was pleading for his life on his knees moving back as Balothiss moved towards him.

"You plead for your life as I once pleaded for my innocence,"

Balothiss said as he lifted the knight by his tunic with one hand, a small tear running down the mans eye.

"For that you are very stupid to do for the answer may only be death!"

He jabbed the man through the chest with his own sword and then slowly put him to the ground and walked away and as he walked away he thought of what his choices were now he could raid a nobles house or burn down the church but he looked at the largest building he could find which was a manor surrounded by a large stone wall and a few armed guards fighting off some orcs who took the advantage to attack a house who were probably going to die.

Balothiss smiled and thought about burning and pillaging the house and he nodded with an devilish look on his face as he thought of all the dastardly things he would do to it.

And he ran in the direction of the manor.

Seeing the knights being slaughtered by Balothiss gave the curse soul a moments respite. These were knights who may have been loyal to an idea at one point. They might be here only from a sworn fealty. Fools, symbols of his own once naivety. The cold grew around the shade. He would release them from their vows. Moving into the fray cold stair took no pleasure in each piercing cry.

The sword had no hold over him yet, almost on its own did it find its way into each knight. Whether it was the head or chest the twitch the body made from the soul being pierced did little to sway his disdain of these wretches. As the bodies hit the ground frost and necrosis took them. No savior would come on wings of light. No prayer uttered would help them escape. The only thing that sought them was death. It was death that would hold each of them as the specter did its work. Many of them felt the ice grow in there lungs after his strike. As the light of hope left them they could feel the rotting of flesh from their face. Other few unfortunate souls would swing their weapon at this figure only to have it land on the ally across from them. This made it seem that the shade could produce blades from his body. The idea alone sent some knights to soil their armor. Cold stare cared not for the sound or the way they died. Just the fact that they were dead gave him the strength to kill more.

Balothiss thought nothing of the knights who tried to slow his pace towards the manor he slapped them out of his way took clubs to the knees and he kicked back breaking rib cages and pelvis bones his armour was covered in the blood of his enemies and the water of the ice he was drenched and a little cold but he paid it no mind for his resolve was to kill any who got in his way.

And he did a good job of it many tried to kill him most only injured him minorly and were crushed by a mighty punch or killed by his sword or burnt to a crisp he felt like a god amongst the fray of warriors who tried to topple him but failed.

Balothiss sent a large ball of flame towards a pavilion below the manor where guards were marching and the fire exploded and spread around to a garden and many of the Knights guarding the pavilion burnt to death in the flames the fire was only maintained in the pavilion although some fires sproted up on the walls and a couple of crossbow slinging knights appeared in windows and shot Balothiss but only gave him a small amount of wounds.

He laughed at how pitiful the attacks were getting and he sent to more fireballs at them.

---

By the time he got close enough a group of knights spotted him making his way towards the manor and were chasing him but we're failing to catch up and Balothiss ran and laughed as the knights huffed and puffed and slowed down some even giving up and turning around and ran back into the other battle and the others often met a few fire balls that Balothiss threw from time to time and once at least a few were left they all turned and fled.

Once he finished mocking them he turned and found himself starting at the smouldering pavilion he had set ablaze from afar he was impressed on how much damage he had caused and looked around to find the bodies of multiple other knights he took no pleasure in their deaths but was prideful of his work he surveyed around and checked to see any other enemies around.

He caught a glimpse of a knight poking his head out the window of the third floor and knew that they were hiding in the building.

"No building can keep me from what I want!"

Balothiss thought snidely to himself as he prepared to break into the building.

As the crossbow bolts whistled towards Athinar, he only howled in delight. A real challenge, not some puny villagers, or pitiful sorcerer. As he closed the gap on the knight, six of the ten bolts caught him, two on his left shoulder, one on his right thigh, one was deflected by the armor on his left forearm, and one bounced off of his pauldron. The crossbow bolts only staggered him for a moment, causing him to shake his head, before ripping out the bolts, coming away with a spattering of blood. Running forward, Athinar threw the three bolts back at the crossbowmen, catching one twice in the throat, and another in the gut. Both fatal blows, with the force the fighter threw them with. The blood from the circular wounds oozed, rather than sprayed, as it seemed that he acted quickly enough to not have them cause any more serious damage.

Then, as he reached the knight, an arrow struck the champion's shoulder, freezing it, and turning everyone else's attention to the 'traitor'. Probably Narza or Umbra. Flinging his shield at Athinar's head, the bestial man ducked quickly as the hunk of metal slammed into a spearman behind him, knocking him out cold. When he attempted to slash his mysterious black sword at the knight, Athinar barely had time to brace himself before the knight swung the sword by the blade, aiming for his head. The hilt of the sword clanged as it was deflected by Athinar's helm, even if it did dent it inwards, slightly, not enough to become a liability to the fighter. The real trouble came when the knight dropped down, and hooked it around his ankle, causing him to begin to fall.

Before he reached the ground, however, the fighter reacted instantly, years of training by those pathetic monks serving him well. Stabbing his sword into the dirt, Athinar swung around the blade, sliding back, and digging a shallow trench in the earth as he knelt down, still moving away from the knight. As his backwards momentum halted, he pulled the sword from the ground, and stood up. So, it seemed that this knight was more resourceful than the others. Oh well. Athinar grinned ferally. He would still die like the others.

Before the knight could react, Athinar flung his sword at an armored swordsman, decapitating the guardsman, causing blood to spray from both his head and the stump of his neck. Stepping forward, locking his feet in place, Athinar cupped his hand in a clawed palm, focusing on the magnificent crimson spray around him. Instantly, the blood spilled by the battle, everywhere in the square, was sucked towards Athinar's palm, forming a red ball of energy there. Thrusting his palm at the Knight's head, he smiled, and whispered in the knight's ear, "Boom." As it impacted the helmet, an explosion, formed of the concentrated life-force in the blood, detonated. Even if the knight was unharmed, it would fling him backwards, causing him to land on his back. Around Athinar, a shockwave caused the five closest guards to be knocked into the ground, making them break several bones.

Athinar roared, a challenge to anyone nearby. Was there anyone who would try and take him on?

The sun rose and with it a number of deliveries to the 'adventurers'. With a little working, the model of the city was completed in their room. Removing his earing, he set it in the centerpiece of the town as Tinkerhell spoke to her true master, the dungeonkeeper. Between the two they managed to project the scale model to the masters dragonheart. Not a direct transmission, which could be traced, but rather a pulse on the dragonheart frequency for it to most easily pick up.

This image would give his employer some of the most detailed images possible, perhaps even enough detail for him to cast his own magics or set a portal to a location to feed the imps through. He wouldn't spill out any more details that might be picked up as obvious troop movements or the like in case it was intercepted. But for now he would wait for a return message from the keeper.

Torrens, in stumbling around blind then going to the burning town hall, had disoriented himself somewhat. He figured that finding the main road and joining the fight again should be easy enough, but instead of finding the main road he came across a noble mansion. This seemed to be a reasonable enough target, for any nobility would have to be supplanted in order to capture the town, so he approached.

As he got near, though, he realized that someone had beat him to it. Bodies littered the road up to the manor, killed by either blunt trauma, a blade or fire, and some sort of wooden watchtower had been reduced to cinders. He was about to continue up the road when there were shouts from behind him. He spun around to see a group of four soldiers who were approaching the manor, and had spotted him. Two of them wielded crossbows, but before they could fully raise them Torrens had already dispatched the two with well-aimed fire bolts. The other two bore wooden shields and halberds. Torrens tried shooting them as well, but they blocked with their shields and charged.

Torrens calmly stood his ground and let them approach. Once they were only five meters away he stretched out a hand and threw forth a spurt of fire, which crept underneath the soldiers' shields and licked at their legs. This stopped their charge and made them drop to the ground in pain due to the burns on their legs. Torrens exploited this opening and lunged forwards, pushing one halberd aside, nicking himself on the other halberd (which cost Torrens a small line of yellow flame) and bringing himself into arm's reach of the two soldiers. There he grabbed the faces of the two soldiers with his hands in an unpleasant yet efficient killing blow. The soldiers had a fraction of a second in which to utter a tortured scream before Torrens' hands melted through their faces and killed them.

The reinforcements dead, Torrens jogged up the road to the manor and found Balothiss the Half-Giant attempting to gain entry. Balothiss seemed to be rather battered, but not yet worn down. "Hello there. Nice job clearing the way here," Torrens greeted.

He looked to the door of the manor. It was made of thick, sturdy, reinforced wood, and very likely barricaded on the other side in an attempt to keep the rampaging half-giant outside. Balothiss, even with his great strength, would probably be battering against the door for a while before breaking through. "Let me get that for you," he offered.

He walked up to a door and pushed himself shoulder first into the far right side of the door. The wood in contact with his body burned ferociously and completely, leaving behind only the noncombustible impurities, allowing his hand to steadily progress deeper into the wood until, after several seconds, he broke through. What he also broke through were the hinges of the door, and the heavy bar keeping it locked. As such, with a gentle shove, the right half of the door fell outwards. Behind the door was furniture piled against the door, but with half the door out of the way it would be trivial for someone of Balothiss' strength to push it out of the way.

Torrens stepped out from the doorway and gestured to the opening. "You're welcome," he said to Balothiss.