The brothers looked with wide eyes, as the infernal creature seemed to not only catch the crossbow in short notice, it was now threatening to skewer them with the failed bolt, waving his hand menacingly. And then, a magical explosion. The arm was no more, frozen and pinned against a wall.

And the beast's regeneration was failing. The magic seemed to have worked against the creature. Bobd and Bõbd had no time to capitalize on the staggering blow, however, as a half crazed madman lifted and tossed the vampire. Was that an Iron Rose? He seemed to be more crazy than their own sister, and that was saying something.

However, Bobd couldn't help but smirk at how the vampire was finally taking hits and wounds, even though they were fastly closing. He had taken back his sword after the attempt with the crossbow. It was ill-fated however, as he found himself in front of the pissed off savagery of the vampire. Luckily, he was a far shot from a defenseless maiden, and he could put his shield up to offer resistence, even if he staggered quickly against the beast.

A second shield soon joined the struggle, as Bõbd joined shoulders with his brother, defending against the attack. It bought time for the two to retreat, just as the Iron Roses renewed their attack on the vampire, without any kind of warning or consideration whatsoever.

Don't they even know of teamwork? One of the two mumbled about, while they once again began to flank the beast,shields up, ready to leap with their swords at its head whenever the vampire faltered...

---

Sult eyed the scene unfold before her eyes, as she spared a blank stare at Marianne. "I can't believe you had not noticed that earlier in the party." It escaped her lips, as briefly the sheer klutziness of the Delacroix overtook the battle in Sult's mind. Thoughts that were yanked quickly, as the battle raged on once more. Two conspirators were there. The hostage was there. Well, that was easy. Barring the undead, crazy lightning mages, and necromancers. Sult couldn't help but pick up the hesitation of the little Nem assasin when seeing her own sister.

There was a time... in which she knew what was to have a sibling.

And not that obnoxious Nero.

Who seemed to be positively delighted at the situation, as he poised himself for the attack. "Oh, we're reaally sorry." He taunted to the lightning mage. "Was that Caloh fellow your brother? Your Lover? Both?" He finished, doing a flourish with the sword.

Sult almost resisted the urge to facepalm. Granted it was a good quip, but the timing could not be worse. With Marianne and Nero attention's on the caster, and Tyaethe pulling some sort of strange stunt without touching the enemies that had been sent towards the group, The skeletons were heading quickly towards Tilli and herself.

"Okay, time to reveal one of the big cards." Sult sighed to herself."Tilli, go fetch your sister when I make an opening." The blue haired lady breathed deep, and as if invaded by an inner peace, she raised her blade vertically above her head.

Gently, but ominously, her own hair began to sway and float, as flickers surrounded her armored form, her mana herself finally starting to leak outwards.

And the skeletons drew closer.

The flickers began to appear more frequently. Of a golden, and white kind of nature, they began to dance in circles around the sword. Sult's eyes were closed, her lips whispering a prayer.

"O, holy Reon. Grant thy humble servant the power of thy scorching flame."

The flames ignited around the sword, flickering faster, as the mana output tinged Sult's surroundings of a golden color. Like the very fires that were manifested in her sword, of an unearthly white with golden highlights.

One skeleton lunged at her.

Only the cinders and half molten armor remained after the first strike.

"Now go." She whispered to Tilly, as beads of sweat began to appear in her forehead. She could feel the weight of all her slacking, her sins during her training as priestess cramping and slowing her body, as the Holy Flames of Reon kept eating her mana while engulfing her sword.

And she lunged forwards towards the skeletons, her fire leaving white trails of holy magic.

I won't be able to keep this for long, so be quick!

Fanilly only glanced at the paladin talking to himself for a few moments. Was he admonishing his own actions? She wasn't sure what to make of it, but at the moment it wasn't what mattered. It would be difficult for her to get close to the attack on the other conspirator, at least at the moment, so while there wasn't an opening... she quickly hurried over to the injured Mariah, kneeling beside her. She reached out and was thankful when she could feel the half-giant breathing, making a relieved sigh as she did.

At least nothing worse had happened to her.

The vampire's body bent backwards at Garret's initial attack, moments after slamming into the shields of one of the two knights who had fired the crossbow at him. His crimson eyes seemed to burn with anger as he righted himself, but his grin had also returned with a manic intensity that seemed utterly joyless.

"Die! Die die die die die die die die die die die die diediediediediediediediediediediediediediediedie!"

His weapon lashed out with lightning speed, deflecting attacks to strike back with mad fervor. Only to hear something below... he spun to avoid it, but the geyser of water struck his hand, catching two of his fingers in ice. It took only a moment for the vampire to rip his hand back, tearing two of his fingers off in the process. He was now wholly focused on the mage, breaking into a lightning-fast sprint towards him.

Of course, this meant the fight could end with one quick blow...

---

"Yes!" Eliabelle nodded excitedly on that note. She'd heard so many stories of the bravery and valor of the hundi, how they were a race of noble warriors who would fight to the bitter end for honor and justice. After all, Fireheart had gone into just what a hundi's coming of age ritual was like. It had covered, in great detail, how a hundi had to make such a journey in order to be considered an adult. That, and it was just fun to read! "I really want to hear it, Sir Ian!"

"...Oh, gods be damned. What have I done to have luck like this?!" Tiral asked nobody in particular as he pulled his dagger from the ground, still staring at the raging vampire who had finally decided that he was enough of a threat to warrant a reckless charge at his face. Maybe he had spoken too soon about the whole 'let the Captain relax' thing, but he would look like a complete fool if he decided to retract his statement. Even if things were looking kind of hairy right now...

Well, even he still had to preserve some face here.

As the vampire drew in close for a lunging attack at him, Tiral quickly dove off to the side and recited a quick incantation before slipping his dagger into another crack in the ground, quickly creating a barrier of ice around himself to ward off any incoming attacks. If their enemy's current demeanor was any indicator, then sitting still to let the thing whack away at the ice while the rest of the Knights took him down was probably the best option.

The best part about the ice, though, was its transparency. Tiral flashed a toothy grin at the vampire from behind his barrier in another attempt to provoke him. If the enemy took his eyes off of Tiral to handle someone else, then he could just send a spear of ice through his back. Honorable? No, not in the least. Workable? Probably.

Glancing at the rest of the Knights, the mage hoped that at least one of them would take advantage of the opportunity in front of them now...

Marianne Delacroix

The look of shock on Marianne's face when the little girl revealed herself to be Dame Tyaethe would've been priceless, had anyone paid attention to catch it. She knew the girl was maddeningly familiar, only it wasn't until it was blatantly spelled out for her had it registered in her mind. That explained the sword, vaguely remembering seeing an older Dame Tyaethe in some oil painting somewhere. But, shaking her head, she refocused her attention to finishing her spell cast. Ignoring the bolts of lightning snapping at the ground dangerously close to her, she quietly uttered her lengthy incantation as she slowly wiped her white veil and hand across the flat of her blade. Imbuing the metal with the mighty power of lightning as it glowed with an intense white light, wreathed with electricity just as Dame Sult rushed past her with her own flame-empowered weapon. With each of them having selected their own foes, Marianne already had her heart set on the lightning caster as her target. Crouching low as she settled into a sprint-ready stance with her blade at the ready, Marianne then took off in an erratic an unpredictable pattern as she closed the distance. Once within range, she began her lethal barrage of thrusting attacks. Determined to not allow the mage breathing room to cast another single spell. All she needed was one misstep or mistake from the caster, and she would cut clean through him.

Ian's eyes widened slightly in surprise at the princess' excited outburst, he may have asked an either or question that she responded to with a yes but he had a feeling she meant she wanted to hear about that Hundi, and so with a chuckle he started "Well, I suppose you know about the nature of my kind but you might be surprised to find that very few of us would even be considered knights, I'm actually the only Hundi knight I know of, I think it's because our view of 'knightly things' is a bit different from yours, it's a bit hard to explain but things you consider knightly, like Gilian's story about the griffin, is something you'd hear from any older Hundi. Maybe a better term would be adventurers, I'm sure you know of the journey we take to when we're sixteen, you've read about it in your book, my own has led me here. We seek out challenges to improve our skill, be it physical prowess or tactical ability, and, of course, to one day find a mate, and we do that through combat too, although...perhaps not always" He chuckled, smirking "obviously there's quite some time between one thing and the next and you have to get by somehow, that's why you mostly hear about Hundi as wandering mercenaries, was one myself until I came across the Iron Roses. But, like in Fireheart, some do find greater adventure" He paused for a moment "oh, and yes, most of us do like it when you pet our ears" he tipped his head forward a bit and twitched his ears as an invitation.

Her sister...!

The chief thought in Tili's mind, as the path cleared and one of the knights, the child, charged forward to reach her. As skeletons fell in to melted armor and destroyed bone, she swiftly took her chance to break into a sprint towards her bound sibling. As long as there was a distraction...! She glanced to the sides, to make sure nothing was coming for her as she made her way across the room...

Meanwhile, the lightning mage was furious.

"What kind of shit are you talking about?" he snarled at the taunt, "Grrr... Caloh must've been a fool to get killed off by you!"

His gauntlets crackled with electricity. There was no mistaking it, now, he had some form magical item used for instant casting of his spells. Perhaps he was storing them in the gauntlets? Whatever the case was, he wasn't making any sort of incantation in order to use them. What nearly took him off-guard, however, was the sudden assault from Marianne. At the last moment, his gauntleted hand snapped up... and caught the sword. It seemed, as long as the gauntlet was in the way, the lightning wouldn't be able to penetrate his defenses.

"Oh, you use lightning too?" Zalo said, narrowing his eyes, "Then let's see how long it takes to burn you to a cri-"

A knife suddenly hurtled his way, and he was forced to release the weapon that he had only caught through pure luck in order to dodge. Tili, in mid-sprint, had spun and hurled a knife at the lightning mage, in order to break up the fight and give Marianne a better opening. Even now, well... the knights had done all this to help her get her sister back, they could have just charged in without regard for her...

She didn't stop long enough to see how it went. She had to reach her sister...!

The Necromancer sighed again. Well, it looked like things were going poorly. Oh well. The remaining skeletons suddenly pulled back, approaching one another and raising their shields, attempting to make a wall between the Nem girl and the knights.

The Necromancer himself seemed to slide backwards without moving his legs, rapidly, nearly the Nem girl.

He had said he'd kill her if the Assassin failed, after all...

Kyphi thrashed in her bindings, trying to loosen them...

Marianne Delacroix

Marianne glared at the lightning mage, her eyes burning as she locked eye contact with him. Angry with the fact that he was somehow lucky enough to catch her blade, the enchanted gauntlets he wielded protecting him from having his arm sliced clean through. Eying the gauntlets, she reminded herself to possibly have her own equipment enchanted at a later day. If she could somehow store part of her mana or even inscribe her spells to them, that would give her a much better edge in future conflicts. For the time being, Marianne strained and struggled against the man's strength, unable to match him and break her sword free from his grasp.

Gritting her teeth, she didn't offer any response to the mage when he realized she too utilized the power of lightning and made his threat to her. Instead, she smirked and by the time the corners of her lips tugged to make the expression, she was blessed by the Goddesses. By the grace of Reon and thanks in part to the Nem assassin, a thrown knife distracted the lightning mage and he slackened his hold on her sword, freeing it. Wasting little to no time, Marianne capitalized on the moment.

With two swift slashes, Marianne attempted to cut at the mage's arms where his gauntlets could not protect him looking to quite literally disarm the man. Without his precious gauntlets, he could be close to harmless unless he hid some other trick up his sleeve. With her free left hand, Marianne quickly stepped forward into a gut punch to stun the mage. Stamping her heel at his feet to pin him to the spot, she then tossed her sword into the air to swap hands. With her right hand now free, she reached at her bow quiver and drew an arrow. With a lunge forward, she aimed to spear its arrowhead through the side of the mage's neck.

That... annoyingly, before she had closed the gap entirely and got into position, the necromancer began moving backwards and Tyaethe was forced to be considerably more reckless, unable to prepare her defence entirely. There was just enough time to hiss at the nem captive to stay still before swinging the sword down and directing a ghoulish smile in the conspirator's direction.

"Do you know how many necromancers I've killed?"

The swung sword, meanwhile, would either simply obstruct the nem from direct reprisal... or sever many of the bindings, had she heeded the instruction for the scant instant needed to target the attack with minimal risk of injury.

"Peh." Bobd gritted his teeth as the vampire continued his onslaught, his shield and that of his brother still on the defensive, as the vampire seemed to rip itself out of the ice at the cost of several limbs.

Was this how the captain Nero felt back at the Barrow? That these monsters were seemingly undefeatable? The man said, as his body tensed, the strain of the battle taking a toll. And then, something happened. An opening. A shiver went down the spine, as blood rushed from his face, into his muscles. This was it. He cast a furtive glance at his brother, who didn't need to answer to know what to do.

Both raised their shields, and tossed it at the vampire's legs. One last, all out attack. They skipped their breath as they lunged after the creature and the toss, their swords describing a brutal yet synchronized arc over the monster's head, as if a heavenly shear had come to pluck out the unholy being.

Meanwhile, the half giant winced. Despite her many wounds, the noise was bringing her back to the world of pain. A soft breath nearby, a gentle smell. A hand quivered, then shot against her target, bringing her close to her damaged body. The half conscious, delirious Mariah yanked Fanilly close to her frame, while whispering.

"Dolly, It hurts. Don't leave Mariah. So cold...but burning." She mumbled, half awake.

---

Nero smirked as he twirled his sword, seeing his taunt had worked on the mage... who was now struggling against the Delacroix's sudden spurt of offense. "Careful, I think the ladies want you." He smirked, as his attention turned to the other side of the battle. "Pity, though, I have to wait for my turn then." His eyes darted to the quickly closing line, as Sult's flames swung vividly against the skeletons. She grunted, panted, delivering heavy blows at the creatures, eating their defense bit by bit with the holy power of Reon.

"YOU WILL NOT HIDE FROM THE WRATH OF THE GODDESS." She spat, as she pointed at the Necromancer. But Nero could feel, that she was running pretty much on willpower alone. Maybe if she had trained more...

And then Nero spotted Tilli, and flexed his fist. His androgynous face sported a big grin. "Let me help you reach your sister." Nero said, and with the speed of a poisonous cobra, shot his arms to the Nem's main frame. His body flexed as he exhorted the name of the attack as a mockery.

"LION'S THROW! HA!" He said as he literally threw Tilli over the skeleton wall, right next to her sister.

Payback is sweet, isn't it? The ominous captain of the Ravens smugly told himself.

Sir Garrett followed the hurtling vampire with swift strides. Wrenching the axe he’d lodged in the stones of the floor free as Tiral encased himself in ice Sir Garrett made no sound as the Vampires impending death came in from behind. Sliding the axe to its very end Sir Garrett stepped to the left of the vampire as it clawed at the Ice and swung like his life depended on it. Right at the base of the bastards neck. With a hiss he removed the Vampire head in a single clean stroke. Stutter stepping to his left Sir Garrett bled off the excess speed from the dash turning to his left he spun to face Sir Tiral.

“You are needed down stairs no doubt.” With a heavy sigh Sir Garrett slumped against the wall. The blood loss had been a bit more than he’d been expecting. “I’m going to stay here for now if you don’t mind” With that the big Knight slid down the wall and closed his eyes. “Don’t worry I’ll be fine. Make sure the rest of them get out okay.” I’ll see you on the other side. Sir Garrett flashed Sir Tiral a smile and gestured towards the stairs. “Make sure Captain Fanily is okay.”

Fanilly took a step forward. The fight with the vampire was intensifying more and more, even though he was bloody and injured. She had to find a moment to strike, to jump in and try and help. But before she could do much, she felt strong arms wrapped around her, pulled her in close. She couldn't help but let out a yelp of surprise. Mariah had woken up and... and grabbed her? There were a few moments of confusion, but it seemed like Mariah was just in pain and trying to reach out to any possible source of comfort. Fanilly was no expert, but while the half-giant's wounds looked painful and unpleasant she thought it wouldn't be too difficult to mend them successfully. None were deep from what she could tell.

"M-Mariah," she began, hastily, hoping to try and calm the half-giant girl, "Please, I... I have to go help the others, we'll get you healed as soon as we can, but for now try not to move too much."

Meanwhile, it turned out her assistance was not exactly required. The vampire staggered when then shields hit his legs, going to his knees. But the followup he twisted to avoid, getting one leg back up under him... just in time for an axe to come down. It struck his neck and bit right through it, a cascade of crimson pouring from the stump as his body keeling over and his head hit the ground nearby.

And yet, in spite of the beheading, the vampire's head was not quite dead yet.

"... You did it, huh...?" Damon Cal said, staring at his own corpse lying on the ground, "Bastards... I should have gotten to taste all of you, but now I'm reduced to this..."

He seemed more annoyed, as opposed to the rage he'd expressed moments ago.

"Hah... at least I got to taste one of you before it ended," he remarked with a sigh, glancing at the collapsed Knight, "You're in for a trip to the healers, aren't you?"

He chuckled a little to himself.

"Heh... you better keep an eye out," he added, "Even if you kill all of us, that's not the end of it..."

With that, the light faded from the vampire's eyes, and he was finally, truly dead.

---

The skeletons were, of course, losing ground. With every moment, another of them crumbled under Sult's assault, leaving scattered bones and armor with nothing left to animate them. Only a scant few of them remained, raising their shields to at least keep the forces of the knights split apart, away from the captive. But even that had quite clearly failed.

The Necromancer paused, finally, when Tyaethe's slash forced him to back off. So she had killed necromancers before? He noted that one of the nem girl's bindings, between her hands, had been severed, and she was reaching down to try and untie her feet.

"Ah, have you?" he asked, cocking his head to one side, "How quaint."

The situation was rapidly deteriorating for him, but it wasn't showing. He still seemed quiet calm and collected.

"Here I am, little girl," he continued, simply, spreading his arms, "Try and kill me."

And then Tili kicked him in the head. It wasn't the most powerful kick ever delivered, but it still sent the necromancer staggering, reeling from the impact. The little assassin had hated getting thrown, but really she had to make the most of it as quickly as possible. Landing beside him, she darted to her sister almost immediately and tugged the gag off of her.

"Tili!" cried Kyphi, ceasing in her attempts to unbind her legs to wrap her arms around the other Nem in a tight embrace. Tili returned the hug with one hand, but the other swiftly went down to untie the bindings on her twin's legs.

The necromancer held the side of his head, but straightened, taking another step back.

"... Have it your way," he sighed. Snapping his fingers, he activated the defensive wards placed on his body, and swept his hand to the side, revealing a set of jars strapped to his belt, each filled with a sickly brown fluid.

He pulled one off and made to throw it down and shatter it. If it could be helped, it probably wasn't a good idea to let him do this.

Zalo swiftly raised his gauntlets, managing to move back enough to deflect the blows to his arms. The punch to his stomach, however, hit home, and the lightning mage let out a rattling gasp as he staggered back, clutching his stomach with one hand. But as the arrow came down, a field of electricity erupted from his body in a bid to knock his attacker back.

"It won't be that easy!"

Tiral's smile quickly went away as a shower of blood sprayed against the ice, making him unable to really see what was going on in front of him. If the last minute or so of the fight was any indicator, though, then Sir Garrett had done as he had hoped, at the vampire out for his blood was probably a decapitated body right about now. With a sigh of relief, the mage dispelled the barrier, removing what had been obscuring his vision up until now.

The vampire's final words were... Ominous, to say the least. Did that imply that there were more out there? Fighting one vampire was enough of a hassle on its own, but even just the idea of having to deal with more made the mage shiver involuntarily.

"If they all fall victim to rage like you did, then I'm not that worried," Tiral said to the corpse, fully expecting nothing to be said in return, before looking over at Sir Garrett. The fact that he had been kind enough to even acknowledge him made Tiral frown, and given the wounds that the knight had sustained, coupled with the fact that he was going to rest...

"...Sleep well."

With a silent salute to Sir Garrett for his efforts, Tiral walked back over to the Captain and the half-giant that had been hugging her like a stuffed animal.

"...We should get moving, but well... It seems as if you're a bit occupied at the moment, aren't you?"

"Bride of the Moon, Glorious Reon, we beseech thee for aid. Unclear lies the path ahead; the road is choked with abominations and defilers. Shine bright the Sun to light our foes for the task ahead, line our blades with holy fire. Let us be a sunlight blade to cut this tainted soul. In Moon and Sun, paladins are the goddesses' wrath. Bride of the Moon..."

The litany the paladin recited was an old one, and uncommon at that: the paladins of Mayon were much more defensively inclined than their Reonite counterparts. To be confronted with undead with any regularity without being sworn to hunt them down and destroy meant either a personal interest or attached to a group that would take such missions. Tyaethe answered to both and the familiar words kept her focused despite the Necromancer's taunts.

Her anger was betrayed instead by the pulsating green, which reached a new intensity when he revealed the jars. Even the horror of a normal undead could be afforded a proper burial and the fresher corpses even identified but those... those wrecks of a human body could only die through such means that there wouldn't be enough left to bury. Not that it mattered; the remains would be impossible to gather up anyway.

And so, he couldn't be allowed to release them from the jars. It would only make things more difficult.

Tyaethe sprang forwards, getting close--too close to use her sword--and thrust one hand forwards. Wards or not, she was certain that he was weaker than she was and the paladin had every intention of ripping the container from his hand before he could smash the thing.

Marianne Delacroix

Thank the Goddesses above and her training, for at the very last second Marianne leaped straight back to avoid the field of lightning bursting from the man named 'Zalo'. However, she wasn't completely unscathed, as the field had caught her arm and send coursing waves of pain rattling through her body. Her arm felt numb and rigid, but she would recover. Sure, the man wouldn't be taken down that quickly and easily. But, neither would she.

"This man is dangerous both at range and up-close.."
Marianne thought, trying to figure out how to engage.
"He knows more than one spell as well, more than myself potentially."
Of course he did, he appeared to be a much more accomplished mage than herself.
So, how could she continue? What course of action could she take?
Whittle him down until her allies could aid her?
Or should she move on to a different target and force him to defend his own allies?
Group them together, perhaps?

Stabbing her electrified sword into the ground, the blade easily sinking down due to the power coursing through it, Marianne drew her bow and clutched at a multitude of arrows in her offhand. With speed and intensity, she then side strafed around them as she sent arrow after arrow flying at the lightning mage and the necromancer in a bid to keep up the pressure and distract the two of them sufficiently enough for her stronger comrades to do their work. She wasn't alone, after all. She didn't have to fight one on one. If she could buy the others time, then perhaps they could regroup and come up with something new sufficient enough to end this.

And finally, the vampire was dead, his head, still alive making ominous comments in the ground. Bobd and Bõbd looked at eachother, weapons still ready. When the beast drew his last breath, both visiblely loosened their stance, breathing heavily as they feel to their knees in the ground.

"Goddesses, vampires are so hard to kill." One of the two remarked, as they surveyed the situation. When the muffled sounds of a certain female half-giant came to their ears, both rolled their eyes, and without nodding, they addressed the Iron Rose knights.

"We'll take care of the bandages, sir Mage. We know how to do first aid. We, sons of sir Redmarsh, are grateful for your assistance." One of them said with a curtsy, without a hint of hostility unlike their captain had been towards the Iron Roses. His brother had already taken the initiative to actually gather around Maria, and touching her in the shoulder.

"Mariah, let dolly go. We have to heal you." The man said to the female knight, and as if by act of magic, the half-conscious giant conceding, letting Fanilly go placidly. Bobd nodded sagely, as he began to treat the half-naked and burnt woman. "Sorry about that, Iron Rose Captain. She's still fifteen, you know." He allowed himself to breach his tough attitude for a second. "We'll take care of the wounded here."

---

Sult's sword movements quickly became erratic, as her frantic pants were more and more louder. Her words devolved into grunts, before her flames finally gave out leaving her naked blade pitifully clanging against the few skeletons that remained. She gritted her teeth. So this was her limit, was she? She had been so indulgent for so much time, it was bound to bit her in the back. In front of people that needed her the most. In front of her sibling who had despised her the most.

She was on the verge of tears, but she stood once more, trying to power through the remaining forces, in an attempt to reach the flask and the necromancer. "Damnit. Damnit. So vexing." She cursed.

Nero on the other hand, was smiling. The nem toss had been a success, and now Sult was making a fool of herself. And so did Marianne, deadlocked in the fight with the lightning mage.

But was it alright? He could help them more. He could put all his might to overturn the situation. But they didn't deserve it. Some of them had squandered their talents. Some of them had pointed blades at his face. And yet, looking at the siblings, something churned within Nero. He felt disgusted. It was like the sibling antics he used to have a long time ago.

"Disgusting."

He added, in complete dissonance, as he turned his attention on the mage, as he seemed to flash his powers at Marianne, who had seemed to switch her attention to the necromancer. His body shot like a viper, as his sword hilt sought to hit the Mage square in the underside of the chest. Without breath there was no concentration. Without concentration there were no spells. A window of oportunity that Nero sought to exploit with a following grab.

"You can attack and defend. But can you endure?" Nero added, as he kept pressing up close to his opponent, readying his sword for a power attack. Not only physical, as he was circulating his own mana. The armor seemed to revolt and shift somewhat, as the tip of the sword flickered.

In the same flames that Sult had used before.

"FIRE OF REON! HA!" He ominously chanted as he began a mad flurry of blows, more physical than magical in that regards against the mage.

Fanilly stood up, taking a deep breath. Mariah's injuries appeared severe, but... at the very least, she felt certain nothing was too far internally and a healer could take care of them with relative ease. That gave her some comfort. If another order's knight that had been entrusted to her had died under her command... it would have been horrible. She already felt no small amount of guilt for the man who had died during the assault on the bandit camp, as the memory now resurfaced in her mind, and for another to die, from a different order, one who had not given themselves to the Iron Rose...

The small blonde took a deep breath. It was her responsibility to try and ensure it didn't happen. To fail in carrying it out, well... She was no true captain if she failed like that. Just as so many people had said.

Fanilly was snapped out of her thoughts, however, when she heard Mariah's age. Glancing back at the half-giant, she gave an incredulous stare.

"Sh... she's fifteen?" the girl exclaimed, before she could stop herself. A full year younger then her and yet... yet... Fanilly shook her head. No. This wasn't the time to focus on those kinds of details. She turned back to the brothers.

"You can bring her to our healers," Fanilly said. Turning, she noticed Sir Garret was injured as well... "... Sir Garret, remain here. We'll take you back as well, just try to hold still."

She didn't think it looked immediately life-threatening, but... she didn't know.

After a moment's pause, Fanilly spun on her heel and faced the path downwards, raising her sword once more. There was no further time to waste, she thought she could hear the sounds of battle echoing up from the deeper reaches of the tomb.

"Let's move, Iron Roses."

With that, she proceeded down deeper.

---

The jar was, as Tyaethe expected, quite easily snatched from the necromancer's hand, preventing the useage of any of the liquid undead for the moment. However, no sooner then it had been pulled away, did the masked man draw what appeared to be a hazy, ghostly, translucent curved knife with is other hand, and in a lightning-fast movement go to bury it in the tiny girl's back.

If it pierced, there would be no wound, though the ghostly hilt would protrude from her spine. Instead, it would tape into her brain. It would allow the necromancer access to every thought, every action. It would allow him to control someone with a mind of their own as if they were one of the thoughtless, shambling corpses he could raise with a snap of his fingers.

Or at least, this is what he thought would happen...

The skeletons had severely depleted in numbers, but now their main attacker was weakened, her blade's burning aura faded to nothing. While they were nothing but mindless undead, this seemed to embolden their numbers. The five remaining skeletons quickly moved to surround Sult and strike her down, in a bid to make another body for their master to use.

Tili finally finished untying the knot around her sister's legs, and Kyphi was swift to embrace her more tightly afterwards. After a few moments, both nem girls swiftly remembered their situation.

"Do you have any weapons on you, Tili?" asked Kyphi. The mute assassin shook her head, and Kyphi frowned. If they were armed, they could help the knights that had rescued her more quickly.... her eyes darted to the collapsed remains of the defeated skeletons. Their weapons were old, but in a pinch any blade could do...

Using more spells stored in his gauntlets, Zalo swiftly generated a set of blue, rotating circular shields to deflect the arrows sent his way. As if he'd ever fall for that!

This left him totally unprepared, however, for the gut-strike from another knight. He let out a gasp and staggered, his shields fading. Desperately, he raised his gauntlets, crossing his arms in an X formation in a bid to block the assault from Nero's blade, grunting with effort. But this left him open from the other side...

The knife easily sunk into its target, with the small paladin too close to easily avoid a swift attack--and besides, what was a dagger in the back going to do? That's when the pain hit, the knife seeming to dig into her mind. Fingers as sharp as the blade itself raking through her thoughts, dragging them out. If those claws got stuck in, there was no telling how much damage could be done. Even in a weakened state like this, controlling the Immortal Knight was a powerful weapon indeed.

Tyaethe sunk to her knees, sword clattering and jar clinking, rolling backwards towards the nem. The glow seemed to die down and the litany reduced to the occasional mumbled word. He was a necromancer, and she undead--undoubtedly an advantage in this case. It was the best person that he could possibly have targeted from an objective standpoint and the paladin's raised towards white hair, clutching at--

Two small hands took hold of the necromancer's robes and yanked. The man was pulled down hard--right into a headbutt that, mask or no, hit with enough force to shake something loose.

She was the Immortal Knight of the Iron Roses. She had continued past death itself for the sake of her duty and nothing, not some two-bit defiler, nor some dark god, nor the armies of a kingdom would tear her from this path. Only the goddesses and her captains were going to make Tyaethe do something if she put her mind against it.

"You're a hundred years too young to try something like that," the paladin said, eyes now burning as green as the air around her and sword back in hand.

Rinaldo eyed the people in the room intently. There wasn't much to do, besides standing guard. And it looked like the royal Highness had got her host today. Her love of puppy stories had won. Funnily enough, Rinaldo didn't have very fond memories of Hundi. Mostly because he had probably spent quite a few times running away from them.

They were tenacious, brave, fast, and capable of biting your legs.

So, he shuffled so slightly, his sweets plate alongside him, as he managed once more to close distance to an uncomfortable level. "Say, I bet your history is interesting too, mage." The old man added, putting some focus in the face of the Court Mage (although obviously, he tended to stare...elsewhere). "What are you, 19? You look far too young for a court mage." He smirked. "I could improve your physical shape, you know. A healthy mind in a healthy body, as they say..."

---

Sult wanted to spit in defiance, as the skeletons flanked her. But the effort had made her lips chapped and dry. Out of all things, running out of her mana at this moment was not something she had wanted to do, but she had no choice. Gripping her sword, she breathed deeply. Mana or not, she could do this.

She had survived a sure death by poisoning. Skeletons weren't as deadly. Even if armored. She bit her lip, and drew blood with it. Staggering to her feet, she then ducked quick and fast, and in a wide sweep, cut the creature's feet as if they were tall grass, sweeping their fragile bones in the process. Naturally, this was a temporary measure as the skeletons would crawl back to attack her, but that was much bearable. Rememorating her anatomy lessons, she gave a sharp blow to one of the unfortunate corpses with her heel , decapitating him by the base of the neck. Making skeletons fall and then kicking them was not the more glamourous thing, but it would work.

Nero, by contrast, was sporting an outright sadistic glee as he saw the wizard reeling for his blow, revealing quite an opening as he struggled to block his savage blows. The finisher is what all he needed. The flames on his blows seemed to disappear as he concentrated... And then a fist clad in the same flames came from the side, smashing into the mage's chest flank and dousing it with a healthy dose of mana fueled holy fire.

"Say hi to Caloh for me, thundershit." He said in a raspy voice.

And then something unbelievable happened. Nero's armor cracked and convulsed as he landed the powerful blow, scattering in all directions, a trail of black smoke following soon afterwards.

"ENOUGH WITH THIS!". A metallic voice screeched, as the pieces of armor seemingly seemed to float and reform in the air, the trail of mist turning into some sort of little, impish female creature. "NO MORE I WILL BE OF HELP"

Nero stood there, in shock, naked. Although his appearance was clearly different. Nero had never been an effeminate brother. Two reasons seemed to support that, her underwear having been torn in tatters as the armor suddenly decided to emancipate. She, after all, was a twin sister to Sult, and one which bore an almost exact resemblance to her, with equally long hair and height. The armor probably had some sort of glamour that had made her appear as a man.

"...We had a deal!" She stammered in a squeaky voice.

"HOLY SORCERY WAS OFF LIMITS". The armor replied. "FAREWELL." THe armor boomed. As it floated around, peeking the battlefield

"YOU. YOU SHALL DO." The thing boomed as its pieces dived for Marianne in a bold but pretty much dodgeable attempt.

Footsteps echoed through the entrance hall with a curious gait. Indrau stopped for a moment, leaning heavily on his cane. It had been 10 years and still the deep seated pain persisted. He grimaced and continued across the hall. The week spent in the saddle certainly hadn't helped and only served to make his knee stiffen up and become more painful.

The crippled knight had returned from a simple investigation that had lead to a handful of arrests and not much else. Not the building seemed mostly empty, leaving him to set his paperwork in order. The cane thumped louder on the floor, broadcasting his bad mood to anyone still around. He should be out with the rest of them, fighting and bleeding for the order.

It wasn't that he hated what he'd been doing. It was almost enough that he was doing something but there should be more. Let the younger ones do the running around and leave the fighting to the older veterans. It could be worse, Indrau supposed. He might have been expected to have gone to a banquet at the palace or something like that. There was no patience in him for that sort of thing although it seems that there had been some excitement and a group had headed off to some catacombs to deal with the threat.

"Damn it all."

Indrau stopped again and leaned on his cane for a moment. Even if he'd had enough details to assist it would be a long time before he'd be able to catch up. The Knight turned and limped off to the kitchens in search of a drink and maybe a snack.

Marianne Delacroix

As her 'ally' Nero took center stage in taking on the lightning mage, with Marianne continuing long-ranged support with her arrows, the tide took a dramatic and shocking turn of events. With Nero landing a surely crippling blow against the mage, to Marianne's eyes it appeared that it was so powerful that his armor shattered into pieces. But, something was odd. Something was off, wrong even. Nero's armor didn't simply fall apart and clatter to the ground in shards. No. Instead the armor detached from him and reformed into something...else.

Staring at the levitating creature, Marianne's mouth hung agape as she furiously blinked. Disbelief on her face as she tried to make sense of what exactly just happened. Nero's armor was a living creature? A demonic seeming one at that, possibly having concealed the fact that Nero wasn't exactly male. Just that ...her cursed armor made her appear so, for whatever reason that may be. Nero had apparently broken some agreement or pact that she had with the demonic armor and now it sought out a new host. Cold fear gripped Marianne when the little imp's eyes locked immediately on her. Marianne's breath left her as her eyes widened, a bead of sweat rolling down the side of her face. She struggled to move.

In a moment of rare clumsiness, Marianne took a blind step backwards. Her heel catching against an uneven part of the terrain, she tripped and fell on her rear. This was ridiculous. Moments before they were doing rather well against the undead hordes and the two conspirators. Things were going well, and now this? The introduction of something else that could possibly well throw a stone in their battle rhythm? Marianne dryly swallowed, her heart pounding loudly within her chest as she futilely tried to scramble backwards and to her feet but to no avail as she continued to slip in her moment of broken composure. All she could do was shut her eyes, scream, and bring up her arms in a defensive manner as she braced for whatever came next.

Right about now, she wished she was home with her family. Lazily enjoying the peaceful days as they passed by endlessly and leading a simple, quiet life. What cushy, comfortable days she shared with her brothers and parents. It would've been too easy to resign from her knighthood and just lead the life of an Heiress. Sometimes, things just became too erratic and chaotic for her. One crazy, insane situation to the next. If only she knew what she was getting herself into as an Iron Rose.