Walking beside the hovering Clotho, Xallihion's features won't change as he responds to her questions, My people live deep in the heart of the earth, far deeper than any dwarf. There we pride ourselves on our mastery of magic and mental warfare. I left my people because I wanted power, as the strongest rule as our leaders. His feet pass over the dead dwarves that were formerly under his command like broken toys or rocks, nothing more than something to be used and thrown away.

My journey brought me to the tunnels of the dwarves and I decided to work my way into the minds of their leaders and form a base of operations for myself to begin studying the dwarves and the surface races magic. At least until your people showed up. As they continue to walk down the tunnel, Xallihion's eyes will pass over the increasing number of bugs and his curiousity will be piqued when he sees small humanoid creatures with large round objects further down the tunnel in the staging area, I am guessing that is your comrade?

As the Boss exploded into being in the center of the square, cackling with glee, Athinar simply stood there, and let the fire roll over his black armor. So the Boss finally arrives. Maybe he can tell me why in the Void he tried to kill me. Cackling with glee, and summoning more imps to his side, the Overlord walked towards them, and said,

"Well, this could have certainly gone more smoothly, but in the end it turned out well enough I suppose...of course, without Shukra's guidance the orcs let some fleeing peasants escape. I will need a volunteer or two to hunt them down before they reach another settlement, so that they cannot draw unwanted attention to us. There is also the matter of who will govern this trashpile of a holdfast. And the matter of what to do with those who were too cowardly or incapable of taking charge this battle. Anybody care to chime in?"

Athinar said nothing, as the other minions of the Master practically grovelled before him. Pathetic. The Overlord's attention didn't stay for long, however, for he quickly recruited some... wraith to join them. Oh well. Wasn't Athinar's business. Blood in his eye, Athinar walked to the Overlord's side, and placed his armored hand on the man's shoulder, covering it in bloody mist.

"What I kind of want to know is why you tried to kill me. My victory was assured. And you meddled. I wish to know why." Athinar then braced for whatever retaliation the Overlord had in store, be it physical or magical.

---

In the far corner of the square, a woman took her last breath. She was a guardsman, a defender of the town. And she had failed. Struggling to stand up, she fell back onto a pile of rubble, crossbow bolts in her gut. Through red-tinted vision, she saw a mob of little red... things charging through the streets, approaching her quickly. Scrabbling desperately for her pike, she had barely touched the haft of the polearm before she saw something unusual. A woman in shining plate armor, blond hair falling down around her face, cradled her head in her lap. Confused, the guardsman tried to speak, but the knight shushed her with a benevolent, albeit pained, smile.

"Shhhh... Do not worry. You can rest now." The guardsman, comforted, fell limp, eyes glazing over. The knight, brushing the other woman's hair back, closed the now dead-woman's eyes, and placed the spear firmly in her grip.

Standing up, blazing fury in her eyes, the paladin took her longsword out of its sheath, and charged towards the imps, a golden aura around her, one that struck fear into the tiny red creatures. With a wide slash, she cut through a good number of the main group. She would not let them succeed here.

Visibly pleased when two volunteered---the fire demon and the gladiator---the Overlord sent them on their way with a wave. He called out, "Quickly, now. They have a head start!"

As he spoke those words his gaze hadn't left the wraith. He was just about to throw in a comment wishing the two happy hunting when Cold Stare responded after what seemed to have been a bit of deliberation. Then, the wraith promptly proceeded to fade away. Perhaps it wasn't much for talking.

In any case, the Master's withering gaze was next turned towards that strange beast of a warrior. Balothiss. The giant, hot-headed former thief. Oh, Balothiss was a piece of work to be sure, yet he was at least entertaining to watch. Sensing that Balothiss was more than a little nervous and worried about punishment, the Overlord merely stared at him for several seconds. Then he at last flashed a disarming smile after deciding that he had tortured his follower enough. His response to Balothiss's 'mistake' was, "Well, I watched as you torched half a dozen homes and with them Athinar's perfect plan. I could have stopped you, but I chalked it up to eagerness rather than disloyalty, or worse, incompetence...in any case, you were amusing to say the least! Perhaps I should even reward you..."

On a mere whim, the Master waved his hand and an arc of light flew towards Reaver, Balothiss's sword. The magical light seeped into the blade's metal and enchanted it. When the warrior next used it he would find a few pleasant improvements.

With his usual look of mixed mild amusement (or was it sheer insanity?) he now faced the sorry lot of cowards and incompetent fools that had lurked behind whilst the others took this village...so much for being his champions. But then Athinar approached with an intent look. Gah, he would deal with those fools in a moment.

As Athinar drew closer it became clear that he had a wild, fiery look in his eyes and that he was utterly livid. Yes, the Master's could see, smell, and even magically sense the reek of anger and insubordination that wafted out of that one. All before he even spoke, and then dared to put a hand on the Master's shoulder. This would not stand!

Athinar would most likely to be infuriated to have his Master respond by guffawing and not showing the slightest tinge of fear. Athinar demanded to know why the Master had sent down the meteorite and there answer was simple enough: it had shattered the human's resolve to fight, killed no less than two dozen defenders and likely saved Athinar in doing so, it had tested Athinar's might, and most importantly it had been quite delightful to watch from afar! But the Master didn't deign to answer his champion's impudent questions.

After his laugh was done, he spoke to his minion with an even more insidious tone than usual, "Do not question my reasoning, Athinar!" At this point the Overlord brushed off Athinar's hand from his shoulder. Even through the human flesh of his warlock host and through the magical robes, the demon's searing touch was agonizingly hot and would be unpleasant for Athinar to feel, to say the least.

"Just as I thought to congratulate you on this small victory, or perhaps even reward you, you show such disrespect! But no matter...I am in a merciful and forgiving mood. Remove your helmet, kneel, and kiss my boot." The Master's eyes were always as fiery as the depths of hell from whence the demon had emerged from, yet now they seemed to glower even brighter with a sadistic gleam. He did not say what might happen should Athinar refuse, but it would not be pretty...powerful as he was, Athinar would have been hard pressed to defeat the Master even with the advantage of surprise. Betraying his intentions meant that the warlock was fully prepared to fight.

So Athinar had a choice: he could submit to the humiliation and please the Master at the cost of quite possibly losing all respect from the onlookers as they watched him cowed and put back into his place. Or he could risk being defiant. It might gain him some respect, but then again being reduced to a pile of ashes would be even more pathetic than falling to his knees and kissing the warlock's boot.

Meanwhile, a veritable surge of red imps continued to be advance towards the paladin. Those at the front saw their danger and tried to back away, yet they were shoved forward by those behind who could not see her. A few of the small demons mustered up what magic they had and hurled fireballs at her, but more alarmingly many began yelling for their Master and for his more powerful minions. If their attention was raised and they bore down upon the paladin with all their might, she would not last for long.

After the meteorite had arrived, Umbra noticed the flow of imps into the streets along with the Master at their sides. It wasn’t long before he realized that the meteor was quite possibly the master’s doing. Holding back his rage he gathered in the plaza area with the others, and quietly waited.

The Master had little intention of addressing his careless act. Athinar however, refused to leave it be going as far as addressing the Master’s actions. The situation only escalated when the Master shoved the question to the side and asked Athinar to beg, as an owner would treat a dog.

As this happened Umbra stood still and watched. While just as furious as Athinar, he had no intention on fighting the master, at least not until he had gotten what he wanted. Instead he possessed a nearby goblin like creature and shouted “Master when you are done, I suggest we get onto more pressing issues, such as the management of this town. In my former life, if you could call it that, I had experience in managing small villages and various other practices that could be useful.”

Torrens gave a salute and started to leave when the altercation with Athinar began. Torrens stayed at the edge of the town square for a few moments to see how the events fared, interested in seeing how this encounter turned for Athinar. A few seconds later, after Athinar had made his response (whatever it was), Torrens turned again and sprinted down the road and out of the town. He found a road which didn't lead to a village they had already razed, which Octavius wasn't covering and which hadn't been thoroughly blockaded by the orcs, and sprinted down it. While he could not match the pace of a galloping steed, Torrens could maintain a full sprint indefinitely, which should be adequate to overtake any villagers fleeing on foot.

After maybe half an hour of travel, he saw the light of torches appear from over the horizon. From that torchlight Torrens could tell that they seemed to be ordinary people travelling away from the town, and lacking any notable luggage, and he inferred that those people must be the refugees he had been sent to hunt down. Instead of charge straight in, however, he left the road and ascended a hill. The undergrowth around his feet burst into flame, although he figured that he was far enough back for that not to be easily noticed. From the top of the hill he had a far better view. The numbers in this group of refugees was quite large- it looked like it must contain several full households' worth of people. To simply charge them, being incandescent as he is, would have them all scatter into the night, meaning he could easily lose some of them. Although he grinned as he noticed that ahead of them, another few kilometers away, was the beginning of a forest. He would wait for them to be in the middle of the forest, then strike.

So Torrens returned to the road and continued to follow his prey, keeping as far away as he could without losing track of them, although even that could be too close, considering that he had no means of concealing his fiery glow. Still, he continued, and as the villagers entered the forest Torrens changed from a walk to a sprint in order to catch them before they left the forest. When he himself reached the edge, he immediately got to work on starting a forest fire, blocking off the way they had came. Torrens spent a good few minutes cultivating the inferno and feeding on the flames, building a ferocious wall of fire which would eventually grow and consume the forest.

However, Torrens could not trust this bush fire to expand fast enough to overtake the villagers before they escaped. He needed to fence them in. So Torrens gathered up some of the energy he ahd gained from this fire and unleashed it all in a ferocious jet directed from his feet, rocketing him high into the air, soaring across the forest to the other side in mere seconds. To land, Torrens did not bother to rocket to a gentle landing, for rocketing is horribly inefficient. Instead, Torrens crash landed in a tree, which exploded into flame on impact. His return to the ground was far from graceful, involving him falling face first into the dirt, but he picked himself up and got to work on setting up a second wall of fire, sandwiching in the villagers.

Torrens cackled with glee, for forest fires were his favourite type of fire. The ferocity, scale and destruction were unmatched by anything else on this world. Sure, other fires might burn hotter, and some things such as lava are hotter again, but none of those span many hectares at any given moment or leave whole swaths of countryside a charred wasteland. His only regret was that he couldn't be in all of it at once, to enjoy every bit of the fire.

He did eventually find the villagers, but by it was already too late for them to escape, as the fire was closing in much faster than they could hope to go around and escape. Given the apparent surety of his victory, Torrens didn't bother to kill them on sight. Instead, he chased them deeper into the forest, although none of them lasted long before they succumbed to the heat or the smoke. Torrens stayed for some hours more, basking in the flames to bolster his strength, and also scouring the rest of the forest and the surrounds to see if he could spot any survivors. While the chances were remote, a villager or two could have escaped his trap and fled into the night. Torrens was counting on that being exceedingly improbable, since he had no hope of finding them if they did successfully escape as they would be employing stealth and could be anywhere in the countryside. For official purposes, he would assume he had caught all of them which had been taking his route.

It was not until the sun had already been up for an hour that the fires started to wane as the forest burned out. Only then did Torrens begin to make his way back to the Dungeon. He would probably get there sometime around midday or the afternoon, and he would seem noticeably brighter and hotter thanks to that forest fire.

Taking the time to enjoy the homely feeling that the underground gave him, Twich took the time to look around at the work that Clotho's swarm had been up to. Had things been somewhat different, he would have quite happily sent some messages back to his tribe and offered them the chance to move into a proper dwarven outpost that was connected to a massive underground fortress with plenty of room for home improvements and expansions... But alas, the fortress needed to remain vacant by the desire of the Master's will to pit the dwarves against the humans.

When the Queen of the Swarm returned, she did not do so alone. The presence of the squid-head made Twich's scales itch; He had traveled a lot in his pursuit of knowledge and from the other kobold tribes had heard and read about the legends of the squid-men of the deep earth. It was rare for a kobold tribe to dig down deep enough or for one of the squids to dig up enough in the right place for the two species to intermingle, but it had happened before. The stories about what happened next were often told to Hatchlings to scare and warn them of one of the many dangers that exist with digging to deep.

While he did not know just how much truth there were in the legends, Twich couldn't help but feel like he was now standing on the edge of a knife with a large fall awaiting him on either side should he slip. The future had just become more dangerous. "Clotho, how are things coming along?"

Balothiss thought he would receive punishment but he revived reward, and Balothiss was pleased, and he had finished looting the manor.

Balothiss could still here the man yelling from the balcony as he left he turned wondering whether to burn the building to a crisp, actually he concluded that it should be the only building left standing in the village if he had a say in anything but to avail he turned and walked in the direction of where he heard and saw little red imps boring down on somebody and The Master looking upon Athinar and probably going to punish him.

It took him a while but he made his way towards the Master and the others into the crowd.

He looked up at the Master and set down the treasures in front of him.

"Master, I have brought many treasures for you, and I also thank you for gracing my blade with a shred of power,"

He paused to wipe some sweat of his brow.

"Many books of lore and other oddities are to be found within that manor if you are interested in them Master?"

He added he said it as though he was asking a question.

"If you wish for me to bring you the books I will go fetch them and if you would like more treasure I could grab assorted furniture from the manor and bring them to you?"

He suggested, as he sheathed his sword and looked around.

"There are many things of oddity around here if I must say so myself Master!"

He added with slight disgust in his voice because the culture seemed very odd in this area, he was used to Democracy's and Dictatorships but this was different it seemed unclean and silly to Balothiss.

Athinar gazed back at the Overlord, fiery rage was tempered into calm, deadly wrath. There was no sense of danger, no fear in his heart. Only anger. As the Boss told him to not question his reasoning, Athinar's eyes narrowed, and his voice was icy cold.

"You really don't have any particular reason, do you? ... Hmph. Contemptible." While he was somewhat of a sadist himself, Athinar wouldn't compromise the mission for mere pleasure. Then, The Boss told him to kiss his boots, literally, unlike the other minion's figurative boot-kissing. Hell no, would he kiss the Master's boots!!! However, to keep up the facade, Athinar slowly removed his helmet, and bending slowly, had bent halfway before he went into action.

Flinging the helmet up towards the Master's face, which hopefully connected, Athinar lifted his massive Carnage in one hand, and standing up, planted it in the dirt between the Boss and himself. While he was standing directly behind the sword, in his massive black armor, there was an antimagic field in a linear path between Athinar and the demonic Keeper. However, the antimagic field didn't protect his sides, and it didn't protect against conjured objects. However, rays, hexes, and curses were all ineffective, as long as Athinar remained within the sword's antimagic field. Walking forward, remaining in the field, Athinar prepared himself for whatever came next. "A real Keeper wouldn't sabotage his own mission.

---

Meanwhile, the paladin shrouded in a golden aura continued to slaughter the imps with impunity, and when they began to shout, she summoned up a giant golden sword, slightly translucent, which covered her blade, and extended further than any normal sword could. Slashing horizontally through the horde, Sarin managed to separate over half of the minion's heads from their bodies. Those that were left standing stared in equal parts shock and awe, before they skittered backwards, screeching for their Master. Sarin dispelled the sword and strode forward grimly. Yes, lead me to your Master.

From the underverse cold stare witnessed everything. Time would tell where next the hammer will fall. Even in the realm of cursed souls did he see the keeper whose words tore into his mind like an arrow. Standing was not an entirely accurate term as he was simply stationary in the same location he had been when manifested. At the same time it could be argued that he was definitely not in the same location. In the underverses he had no legs or feet. One simply willed where they wanted to go.

Currently cold stare remained in place awaiting the new key word that would give him the will to move. No need to do anything but wait for the next target. This evil was pure and the truth of this compelled the shade to remain close to the keeper. The dark flames that signaled the presence of the living faded as the captives and those that had barely survived being burned alive were given the blessing of the reaper. A blessing the cursed would never receive. The worst fate for the dead is not knowing the peace of passing. His anger grew, there was nothing to be done. He was forced to watch as the reapers hand moved between the ticks of time collecting those that expired. The pain of being left behind ate at him. This was the worst part of the curse. Simple farmers and the village militia being taken to the next place. What happen after the flames disappeared was unknown, a leap of faith. Trying to get noticed by death was like a dream trying to ride a horse in the waking world. He had tried in the beginning. A sick child in the village that killed him, death appeared it was a dream. Everyone knows you can't touch a dream.

Balothiss's words went unheeded but Athinar was the one to make his words unimportant by making it seem like he would kiss the Master's boots, but supriseingly the warrior had the guts to throw his helm at the Master's own face.

Balothiss stepped back and receded as much as he could to a safe distance from where Athinar and the Master were planted, he made his way over to Cold Stare who seemed to be rooted into position probably watching everything happening, he stood near the Wraith watching the being sit there and just watch things happen.

Although Balothiss had no interest in Cold Stare's endeavours he did favour the Wraith who seemed to be more intelligent than others of his own kind, at the moment Balothiss watched Athinar and the Master wanting to see what would become of Athinar in the moments to come.

Out of the corner of his eyes Balothiss spotted a warrior wielding a large golden sword slaughtering the Master's imps, the now distracted him from watching Athinar's punishment or maybe even his death for what he had done rather Balothiss unsheathed Reaver and looked at the blade it seemed different, he used some of his sorcery to glean a bit from the power of the blade but it showed nothing but that it was enchanted heavily by a great power.

He looked up from his blade seeing the warrior an armoured woman striding casually through the street as the imps began fleeing and screeching for their master.

He stepped forward a little getting a better look and he landed himself in a stance that was defensive if anything came at his or attacked that he would lash out and counterattack, he watched the woman she seemed to be a holy warrior of some kind.

"Faith is pathetic..."

Balothiss thought because he had faith in himself and the Master who seemed to be a god himself, he believed in his own might and strength to make him stronger in battle and make him superior, in these moments as Balothiss stood there believing in himself not in some so called 'Deity' that was spoken of in holy texts and whispered in front of shrines, when were any of his prayers answered when he was in pain long ago when he was just a measly their making his way in society, but now he was a mighty warrior.

Balothiss stood there in belief that he would prevail with his own power as if he was a holy entity himself, that he was his own God and that he controlled his own destiny so he used this thought to strengthen his belief in himself so he could stand there as he would stand in the front lines of war.

"Approach but beware you bastard wench!"

He shouted lifting his sword as he stood locked in position and ready for her to attack.

"No one draws the blood of the Masters minions and goes unnoticed from him or his henchmen, I shall strike my wrath upon you in the Masters name but I shall let you strike first you uncouth whore may your children have the fate of unjust punishment until the end of time!"

He filled his words with meaning and the raw magic of his sorcerer powers, but he did not know what the effect they would have on the destiny of her descendants of her children, but he shouted with might and the strength of his soul, he looked to the Wraith Cold Stare and waved a free hand in front of the spectre, then said.

"I am in slight need of assistance comrade maybe you could be of help to me Cold Stare that would help me very much,"

He looked back to the woman and then to Cold Stare, and idea popped up in his mind.

"Cold Stare since you are a kind of undead that is almost like a ghost or a spectre of some kind are you able to possess or attach yourself to a persons mind and body almost melding together this might help to fell this women if you will help though?"

He asked the Wraith hoping that if this worked he might be able to meld minds and strength with Cold Stare and they could work as one and have double the strength.

@Markofkri@Athinar

@Blackmist16

The Thought of becoming flesh intrigued cold stare. Not sure if the giant could see him or not. The offer to control the flesh had little in the way of negatives. If he died then perhaps cold stare could keep the body. The task was simple enough. The wraith moved into the physical space not knowing what to expect.

He could feel the air in the lungs and the weight of the body. It was intoxicating. As the warmth flooded his senses that he now had the loss of the undead status and abilities that came with it was a small price Cold stare wouldn't even register until later. Cold stare couldn't move the giant or preform actions but just being here with blood beneath flesh was its own reward. The smells of the battle and the sounds of the surrounding area were all a welcome experience. He would stay in this flesh forever.

It was not meant to be. The pull of the curse began to cause a small trickle of blood from the eyes and ripped cold stare from the body willing or not. The warmth and the senses were gone. Enraged the shade tried once more to possess the giant but the curse made him only an image unattainable. Cold stare learned insight during the few moments of warmth about the giant and his past. Some of his thoughts mingled within the wraiths mind. This was a new power he would use for later.

Balothiss wiped the blood from his eyes and sighed at least they tried but now that he had melded with the wraith he saw glimpses of Cold Stares past although few glimmers such as his death, or things before his death their thoughts mingled in the process at least he had given the man a chance to feel life again but they were not able to meld completely because of what Cold Stare called his "curse" that afflicted him from being able to rest or go to the great beyond.

This made Balothiss feel bad but he decided to look to the women again who was working her way around and killing the Master's minions.

It felt different to Balothiss that he was able to control his own body but still their minds mingled a bit, almost like a link but not it seemed like a spiritual link as if the Wraith had left something behind.

Whatever it was it didn't affect Balothiss but it did make him change a little.

Clotho hovered as she listened, silent as a grave save for the soft beat of her wings. Though by now very familiar with the unnatural, she had not put any credence into tales of beings that were kin to the planet's core, the 'dwellers in the deep'. To meet one would certainly go down as an interesting point in her day. It did raise some questions, however, one of which being: If he's such a living brain trust, doesn't he realize that pride is a weakness? That query, like the rest, went unspoken as the pair neared the cavern that Clotho had chosen as her staging area.

Upon entering the lively place and finding it suitably abuzz with activity, the swarm queen was immediately surrounded by bugs, some rattling off reports in an insect language, some waiting for orders, and a few expressing affection. Dealing with them the best she could, and making sure they knew not to try and attack Xahillion, she found herself faced with her Kobold partner.
“Ah, Twitch. Things are going smoothly. As I predicted, scouting parties curious to the new occurrences came down to snoop around. They were taken care of, partially by me and partially by Xahillion here, and false positives sent back to whoever leads them. I must confess, at this point I am very confident in my swarm's ability to reduce this outpost to dust, particularly with our new ally's help.” She indicated the tentacled newcomer. ”Xahillion wishes to prove his worth to the Master by rendering us aid, you see. Regardless, we are ready for the grand battle between humans and dwarves to commence. Any news on your front? Something from the other team perhaps?”

"Approach but beware you bastard wench! No one draws the blood of the Masters minions and goes unnoticed from him or his henchmen, I shall strike my wrath upon you in the Masters name but I shall let you strike first you uncouth whore may your children have the fate of unjust punishment until the end of time!"

Sarin stared down the half-giant sorcerer cooly, face neutral. "No need for language. We're all adults here." Feeling a pressure build around her, Sarin dispelled the curse, even if it wouldn't do anything. Sarin had tried to have children before, but... Shaking her head, Sarin focused back at the sorcerer. Golden specks in her eyes flared, and caused her eyes to flash gold, before fading back to their normal brown-and gold color. It appeared that some sort of wraith was trying to merge with the half-giant. However, Sarin knew that, even if some ghosts were capable of possessing the living, the sort of wraith that was bred from hatred wouldn't be capable of the feat.

As the few remaining imps scrambled to get out of the way of Sarin's path, the paladin walked forward, flicking the black, grimy ichor of the most pathetic servants of the Underworld Sarin had seen off her blade. Sword resting comfortably in her hand, Sarin said, "Might I ask your name, bastard child of giants? I would like to know whom I face. My name is Sarin Raekyn, and I am here to stop you."

After he gave his name, if he did at all, Sarin would nod, and spring forward, slashing lightly at his unarmored face. It wasn't an attack that she was invested in, rather, one to simply test his defenses. Better to see what the half giant was capable of, rather than charge in foolishly.

Ready for her attack Balothiss saw her coming her aim was directed at his face and she didn't aim to kill but rather to test him so she could see how his defenses worked.

He took a step forward slightly as she sprang forward and he blocked with his blade so her sword wouldn't reach his face, so Balothiss blocked her attack and then followed up with kicking her backwards aiming to make her fall onto her back making it hard for her to stand again.

He raised his hand to throw a fire ball and readied it so it turned blue so the fire was extremely hot.

@Athinar

"A fine opponent you are Sarin I respect you as I do most my enemies let us not call each other childish names so we may maintain our dignity!"

He dimmed the flame a bit and he had his sword at the ready if she would spring at him without him being ready for another attack this time he stepped back giving her room for a good attack but allowing him opportunity to counter if she tried to attack.

"Why don't we have this battle only as a fight of our honour and to boast our qualities let us not fell one another Sarin!"

He said to Sarin who he had kicked back.

Sarin slid back, not knocked onto her back, but rather pushed by the sheer force of the kick. With a flourish, she bowed to the half-giant, a polite one, meant to convey respect for his abilities. The fire didn't blind her in the slightest, eyes accustomed to flames greater than such as his.

"A fine opponent you are Sarin I respect you as I do most my enemies let us not call each other childish names so we may maintain our dignity!"

Sarin noted that he didn't tell her his name, but accepted his statement with a nod, and then, after thinking a bit, grinned. "So what about your other enemies? Are they not worthy of such respect?" Listening to his next statement carefully, Sarin shook her head, regret on her face. "Ahh, whilst I would be honored to duel you, under different circumstances, I must decline. I am honor-bound to stop your Master at all costs, and by association, you." She cocked her head, curiously, and asked, "Unless you'd like to change sides? Your past wouldn't matter." However, Sarin was sure he'd decline, so when he did, she shook her head and committed to fighting.

Running forward, Sarin readied her sword to parry a strike from the sword, holding it low, ready to fly in front of the half-giant's sword. If he loosed his fireball, she would dodge around the bolt of flame, and continue running, and preparing to parry. If he decided to forgo using his sword, Sarin would jump over the fireball, and attempt to knee the sorcerer in the face. With most armor, this would be impossible, but Sarin's shining plate was made of pure mithril, a light, incredibly strong metal that some cultures say came from fallen stars. Wherever it came from, however, it was impossibly light, and fantastically strong, allowing Sarin such acrobatic feats like what she was attempting.

Balothiss slightly chuckled as he considered the offer but shook his head.

"Pardon my manners Sarin I am Balothiss"

He said with a slight bow and he stood still readying himself for her attack for he wanted his opponent to let her guard down so he may catch her off guard so he would make the strike and prevail.

"Other enemies are blithering soldiers and pilgrims who can't muster the will to speak in my presence you are different from them take those words as compliments!"

He said as he watched his opponent as she also stood waiting for him watching his form and prowess.

@Athinar

"Quickly, now. They have a head start!"

"Not for long!"

Was all the reply he offered as he swung into saddle and flew down the road with Tinkerhel flying on his heels. He watched the way the fire fiend flew and took the other path out of the village. Even with their head start, they could not out pace the summoned steed and perverted pixie. He cast a spell of silence in his radius, making the horse barely a whisper of the wind as he unsheathed his great-sword.

One by one the blade came down, ending lives by the swath while he saw electric arcs of the bondage brownie ending others struggles. More than he thought got free, but in the end the body count was a full score. The gem in the hilt of his sword shimmered with the trapped essence of villagers, he hoped to cash them in with the devil at next time they were in the hideout. He swept the countryside one more time with her above to scan with her otherworldly vision.

Successful, he returned to the ruins of the village with sword upon his back and grisly proof of twenty left arms taken at the shoulder to prove the efforts.

Looking at the small creature before him, Xallihion's head will lower in a small bow of equal to equal as Clotho introduces him. So, one of the other pieces is a Kobold. It will be interesting working with you. Xallihion will remain silent to listen to the information the Kobold has to offer.

While Balothiss and Sarin had a great duel in one corner of the ruined square, their strength seemingly evenly matched at the moment, nothing of the sort happened between the vile Keeper and Athinar. Their strength was far from matched and the treacherous warlock was never one for honor or drawn out duels. That wasn't to say that what happened wasn't dramatic, though. It was quite a horrific spectacle.

The Overlord was struck clear in the head by the flung helmet, caught vulnerable more from surprise than from slow reflexes. The human body began to convulse wildly and stagger backwards. It almost fell to the ground, but some unnatural magic held upright. The demonic Keeper would not suffer the humiliation of being knocked into the dirt by some lowly minion of his! The warlock's mouth opened and emanated a choking sound along with a haze of sulfur and black smoke. Though the warlock's mouth was gaping wide open and his tongue unmoving, a great voice reverberated from deep within his chest. It was a diabolical rasp with the cadence of grinding steel, with cruelty and anger dripping from every word. Without a doubt this was the unadulterated voice of the demon speaking by itself, rather than through its mortal host.

"Fool! Your arrogance is without bounds! Your might is nothing before my own; behold the true power of an elder demon!

Wildly, as if he were a puppet being thrown about by unseen strings, the warlock flung two hands upwards. A bloodcurdling wailing of tortured souls echoed through the town, heralding the two portals to the inferno that appeared on either side of Athinar. Monstrous, demonic arms shot out from those rifts to claw at Athinar and grasp him with all the hunger and desperation of a starving man. The demons below were always hungry for a fresh soul.

Restrained by the claws that tore at and grabbed him, Athinar's forward advance was stopped. Noticing the pitiful antimagic barrier that stood between him and the one that dared challenge him, the Overlord was tempted to simply conjure a fireball so strong that it would smash through the magical shield and incinerate Athinar and half the village. But no...fire would not be painful enough.

A hundred bolts of crimson lightning flew down from the clear skies like arrows and struck Athinar at once, wracking him with agony and paralyzing energy. Then a third massive portal opened behind Athinar, but it was not claws that reached out. Instead it was some sort of sickly green spear straight from the Underworld. Like a living snake, it lashed forward and effortlessly impaled its victim. The metal of the spear was the bane of life and consciously hungered to kill, and so it warped and twisted with barbs pushing through flesh to pierce Athinar's heart.

As tempting as it was to just leave his traitorous follower there to suffer, this particular demon never left a job half done. A ball of sickly red ight appeared in the walrock's hand, and he used blood magic to utterly destroy Athinar. The Mighty warrior's armor cracked and burst off like a bone burned in fire, then his skin melted into tallow and dripped off before the rest of him was incinerated by fire and the demons started a great tug of war between his charred skeleton before they ripped it in half.

With Athinar thoroughly dead, the demon could now behold his soul...and he saw something surprising. Of course, he thought to himself. He would have allowed the demons to simply claim Athinar's soul and drag it to the inferno, but this was too valuable a prize to surrender! Its power would be his! The warlock waved a hand, turning the demonic arms to ash (and unintentionally obliterating the charred skeleton to dust) before closing the three portals. Then he snatched up Athinar's soul.

It was at this time that the demon at last turned to face the intruder, Sarin. He recognized that fool as one of the great champions of this realm. Were she and the emperor already aware of his presence? Quickly he banished such distracting thoughts and left her to Balothiss; he had to resurrect Athinar before death brought back all of his former memories! The Master called upon his blood magic once again, turning the ashen remnants of Athinar and the other dead humans into a suitable form, then inserting the Keeper soul back into it...