Late morning at Sun's Height Market, things are just starting to get really busy. A plethora of strange and exotic goods are for sale, from herbs and spices that fill the air with their aromas to artisan-crafted masterpieces, many made from rare materials, or ones harvested from dangerous creatures. It's a Sunday, most are taking the chance to leave the efforts and responisibilities of their work to spend a morning enjoying the good weather and emptying their goldpurses. The cries of merchants advertising their wares compete for the ears of the buyers. So many people fill the streets, they are practically shoulder to shoulder, bustling more like a single, united mass than a large group of individual units.

Cheers and shouts come from one stall, where a pair of particularly wealthy buyers try to out-bid each other over some finely-engraved vase. They seem to have lost all interest in the item itself, but instead care more about not being beaten by the other. The seller's smile grows wider by the second.

From another direction, "oohs" and "aahs" are heard where one woman has, in a huge cage, trapped a very large earth elemental. It roars and pounds against the bars, but whatever material they are made from is clearly strong enough to hold it. She claims it would make an excellent guard for one's home or business. The smarter viewers know it would more likely get them killed, and laugh as one man attempts to haggle for it.

Further back, in a less crowded alleyway, a sharp-mouthed goblin deals black market goods at a premium to all breeds of criminals, addicts and other less than savoury characters. He's making a fortune, and it's going to hurt everyone in the long run.

Controlled chaos, in every direction. Far, far too many people, and somehow even more money. Welcome to Sun's Height Market.

Boris sat on a rooftop, looking down at the crowds below him that filled sun's height market. With one leg dangling over the edge, Boris played a wistful tune. It wasn't often he found himself so clear-minded, but clear as his mind was, it only amplified the sorrow of being unable to traverse the streets normally. Reminded of the freedom he'd found within the Rakdos cult, he subconsciously switched to playing louder, rougher songs as he walked along the edge of the rooftops.

Looking down to see if anything interesting was happening, he happened to come across the woman selling an elemental as a "guard". Boris laughed as he saw this scene unfold and stayed for a couple of minutes. Soon however, he turned and started looking for something else interesting--Ravnica was filled with interesting things after all.

The market was an animal, savage, cutthroat, a cannibal whose mouth teemed with parasites and whose belly held worms of a capitalist sentiment, vultures who swoop and cackle and gloat when they find fresh meat. Pavara sat on a broken wooden crate, in an alley with one such vulture.

He was a goblin, Grashnak, he said, and he had a dragonskin pouch with a hydra gizzard inside. Not just any hydra gizzard, either. It was a Savageborn Hydra gizzard, stolen from a Gruul victory revel.

She was flirting with him. She used the weapons her training had given her...

"Yeah? I bet he's not as strong as you, though..."

Locking eyes, then dropping contact, turning her torso toward him and leaning forward when he spoke, laughing at his jokes...

"You're the funniest man I've ever met! And you're pretty cute, too..."

Pretending to hide little smiles, he was putty in her hands, just as that hydra gut would be.

Finally, she let loose her killing blow: "You wanna go somewhere more private? Talk a little more-" She put a hand on his knee. "-intimately?"

Naturally, he agreed. What she didn't know was that he also planned to rob her. It wouldn't matter in the end, of course.

"Come on! My place!" She took his hand, tugging him through the crowd into a rundown slum on the border of the undercity, close to where the tunnels and dank halls of the Golgari began. She led him to 'her place', but, contrary to Grishnak's belief, it was not her home. She took him to an abandoned apartment, reeking of blood and filth and excrement, a mouldering one bedroom hovel wherein she kept horrors before recycling them, sometimes even letting two fight to the death beforehand. Grishnak, a goblin fairly well used to the smells, noticed nothing wrong, as she held open the door for him. Then he saw the kitchen table. A spined, horrible wormlike mess of diseased flesh and teeth and-

SPLAT!

"MY EYES! IT'S IN MY MOUTH!" He screamed. But the neighbors, poor and oppressed enough already, knew better than to interfere. The pouch hung on the goblin's waist, suspended only by a thin leather-

WHOOSH! Her cutlass scraped out of its sheath like white lightning and whistled across the goblin's belt.

The impoverished family next door, on one side taxed to death, on the other, next door to death, heard everything.

The screams of a goblin.

The thud of a stomach wrapped in dragonskin on a rotting floor.

A young woman, saying "I know you're hungry, baby. Look what I brought!"

The goblin's screaming, no longer in pain, now in horror, then subsiding into a choked gurgle.

The children cowered by their mother, as their father was long dead. They cried, as they always did, and their mother knew, when it was all over, they would beg to leave and go somewhere else, as they always did.

Pavara collected her loot, fat wet weight slapping her thigh as she walked, hung on her belt, leather strap retied. She needed to return to the market, for corpseflowers and something to make lightning. After all, a proper Horror needs to look good too. The lightning was unrelated, but necessary nonetheless.

As she strode down the street to Sun's Height, she whistled a song to the beat of an earth elemental pounding on the bars of its cage, reassured. No one noticed anything...

It had been peaceful, serene one might even say. That was to be shattered, today the Boros had a lead on a Goblin one that had plagued the streets for to long. Krenko he'd been spotted with a few dozen other goblins ducking into an abandoned building. The local Wojek and Azorius were to wait nearby, the Skyjek delivering a strike team to the roof of the building, Lute and his partner Seria had been waiting for the Legionaries. The angel having flown Lute to the building rather than wait.

Lute had been looking down below at the market, planning on what he would do after they left Azorius to make the arrests. Krenko was to be brought in alive so the orders went, but Lute wanted him dead he'd escaped to many times to not to try again. The soldiers prepared their cables, as a Skyjek stopped by passing Lute a hammer that looked like molten lava. A sunforger, these hammers were powerful thrown weapons that deliver an infused spell without breaking they also made wonderful goblins smashers.

Taking the hammer, Seria nodded and lute walked to the center of the building, as the soldiers repelled to the windows around it. Below Wojek would enter through the front door and Azorius would captures whatever fled through the rear. The angel and the mage summon there power smashing open a hole into the top floor and jumping down, as the Boros legionaries busted into the second and the first floor was flooded with Wojek.

Seria cut a swath towards the door to allow reinforcements to join them, while Lute drew his blade and advanced towards the hobgoblins and the boss, Krenko. "Been a long time you animal." The swords skewered the first goblin that advanced through the head.

The boss drew his dagger as his boys ready their beating sticks. "You think I wasn't prepared for you, I got friends now spell slinger !" He laughed as from the wall appeared conjured soldiers. Obviously Krenko had expected him to back off. The goblin didn't understand sheer tenacity Lute possessed, and so with the roar of lion the young man charged.

Lute slashed down the first two spectral soldiers burying his blade in the Hobgoblin on the left as he tackled Krenko right out the window behind the goblins makeshift throne. Krenko buried his knife in the side of the soldier, while Lute gave him repeated punches across the face. They fell directly into through a stand in market, the two continuing the tussle as Seria fought above with the summoned creatures and goblins.

Eventually the fight ended Lute wore bites, scratches, bruises, and a stab wound. The mob boss meanwhile had lost most of his teeth, broken an arm and lost a chunk of his ear. As the medic arrived to patch up Lute, he was beaming as the soldiers cheered for the brave guild mage. Seria meanwhile frowned staying back unhappy with how he handled the fight.

Most people would stop and stare, such a large gathering of Boros soldiers normally meant a purge or raid a part of the city. Yet here they were, cooperating with the other guilds making Ravnica a better place as intended by the guildpact... How long would that last?

The ancient bones of the Loxodon mage wandered among the crowded Sun's Height Market as they had always done on a fair Sunday afternoon, their owner's curiosity peaked at the innumerable attractions provided by the Ravnican public. For indeed, Zarif had always been charmed by the busy market's knack for providing the unexpected. Though the ancient Selesnyan had seen much in his incredible life-span, and many of the goods and services in this market he was quite familiar with, there was always something to see. Even for an old soul like Zarif. It commonly reminded him of his distant youth; So much to encounter and so many people to talk to. These days, with the mage's body rather weak and his ambitious urge for adventure having dulled with time, visiting the market slowly devolved into a pleasant stroll of nostalgia that the Loxodon almost religiously took every Sunday. This day was no different.

From the exotic fruit vendors to the beast-tamers, Zarif took his time as he strolled around the square hosting the grand market. The selections of animals from the pet-vendors were surprisingly colorful this week, the Loxodon noticed, coming upon anything from Bloodrusher Pumas to "legally" sold skylashers. The mage took no great heed of the later creature, however; If he were to report all of the crooks he saw at Sun's Height Market in a given day, the Azorius detention center would be filled. "Let them sow their fields as they see fit, and the fruits will be even more fitting", Zarif was known to say. Finally, the Loxodon came into contact with a great conjured beast; An earth elemental, its demeanor vicious and its origins obviously Golgarian to the trained magical eye. "It is a Golgarian construct, indeed; as you can see it is composed of compost and some small, root vegetation. I would go as far to say it was originally prepared to be a shock trooper, or perhaps its simply just angry being locked up in this tight cage here", the Loxodon educated the saleswoman in front of him, her facial expression giving a grim indicator that she detested being torn away from the foolish haggler beside her to be committed ideal chit-chat. Zarif, seeing this discomfort in the woman's body language, removed himself from the conversation to eye the beast in front of him.

Absolutely, this creature hated the containment it inhabited, that of which only magnified its naturally aggressive behavior. Though many would see the magical creation as sub-human, the Loxodon mage would stoutly beg to differ. Sitting cross-legged in front of the bellowing behemoth, the mage breathed in deeply before beginning. He had learned to calm rampaging golems and elementals before from the law-mages of the Azorious institutions, a lesson that they said was rather crucial to their survival in the field. Breathing in once again as he sat in front of the creature, Zarif linked his completely calm mind to that of the elemental. The mage's Azorius-oriented aura brought the beast to sit down cross-legged, as well, the giant's shouting ceasing as it breathed in sync with the Loxodon. Zarif gave out a hearty laugh as the pacification spell was proved successful. No more needless turmoil for such a caged animal, at least for now.

This random act of magic was not secretive, however, for the sales-woman instantly chewed the Loxodon out for tampering with her product. Demanding that Zarif pay for a disenchanter, the mage promised to buy the elemental at a later date, handing the small woman a down-payment and asking her to hold the beast for him. Luckily, she begrudgingly agreed, the hunched haggler beside her having lost his financial battle prior to this confrontation. Oh well, there went Zarif's allowance for the rest of the day. As the Loxodon walked away from the menagerie market, endeavoring to hobble his way over to the magic bizarre positioned across the plaza, yet another aggressive soul crossed his path. A pale woman, clad in armor and cloaked by a dark veil of fabric, with specks of blonde hair dancing around her. Zarif would not take any further heed of the woman, if it were not for both the wet weight slapping against her stomach and the sly smirk upon her face. That horrible smile showed an ulterior motive, a successful plan having been executed and the unholy bliss that came from it breaching the surface of the girl's fair features. Zarif had known that smirk a long time before, like many of the things that surrounded him. Suffice to say, he would never go to the Dimir for magical information ever again. The woman's intimidation only doubled with the thought of what she held in her infernal waist-pouch. The bag stank and it's weight and physics suggested a more... organic cargo. Soon enough, however, the woman passed away without a trace. Through all this focus on a passing stranger, that of which the Loxodon mage would certainly keep an eye out for, Zarif almost forgot to notice the Boros attack by his location.

---

Storming upon the scene right after the intense battle, the Loxodon volunteered as a medic to aid the Boros troops. Though Zarif found the Boros to be a little too... zealous, to his liking, he would not allow wounded to go untreated. This of course also meant enemy forces, the Loxodon getting to work patching up the impressive amount of wounded goblins with what medical magic he could muster from his usually summoner-oriented reserves.

Momentarily taking a break from his volunteer work in order to regenerate mana, the Loxodon talked to a certain wounded Boros legionnaire, the name of which was fittingly Lute. The two talked of this and that of magic as the young soldier recovered, the Loxodon congratulating him on his guild's victory. However, around the middle of their casual conversation Zarif became a little more serious, becoming aware of the woman's presence once again. She stood buying what magical ingredients she could from a small, tarped-in shop to the Loxodon's right, her presence unaware to all but the shop-keeper and him. Speaking in somewhat of a hushed voice to the soldier, Zarif asked,

Lute had been discussing the fine points of summoning with a very polite Loxodon who was seeing to the wounded Seria stood off to his side, watching the healer interested in his work. Lute nodded in thanks as he spoke about his own healing. "Thanks, I know a few recover spells as well... Most of mine require an enemy to take the brunt of spells discharge." He explained, red mana had tendency to require cause destruction in exchange for aiding its user.

However as the elder made a request for Lute to watch the young woman across the way. "I'll keep an eye on her but I can tell you she's a thief and a good one." He spoke, Seria eyeing the young man carefully, the angel was no doubt as old as Zarif or older. Yet she did not speak directly, only in glances to her guild mage however eventually she leaned down whisper into the guild mages ear. While few angels adhered perfectly to the order not to speak with those not of guildmage rank, it seemed this angel was quite strict. The guildmage nodded and then spoke once more. "Seria will stay with you and make sure the goblins do not harm you, I'll keep an eye on the thief." The former officer spoke, his station was the highest a mortal could receive in the Boros.

Hand resting on his swords pommel Lute got up from ground and carefully moved through crowds before sauntering up behind Pavara using the noise of a few passing Viashino's in armor to cover his own armors clank. He walked up and tapped Pav's shoulder poking her back with his pommel. "You getting sloppy? If I was still a Wojek, I'd have you in cuffs by now." He teased his friend stepping back chuckling. "How you been Pavy?" He called her the much disliked nickname he had for her, with his usual military charm. "Oh, and fair warning Seria is around, she's my new partner and an angel."

As soon as she saw the elephant, she was interested. She didn't see them often, not around here. She noticed out the corner of her eye him glance at her from a small group of Boros troops. It appeared as though an Angel was also present. Veeeeery intriguing... He's looking again! She spun to face a small tent, where a man sold copper trinkets and dried toads. She cared little for his wares, but leaned in close, to hide the true focus of her interest. She peeked again, and saw even more weirdness. LUTE? An old boyfriend, not even a boyfriend, it was like a flirty thing, stood with the Loxodon, whispering with him. She turned back to the confused shopkeeper, color draining from her cheeks.
No longer interesting. I need to leave-

"You getting sloppy? If I was still a Wojek, I'd have you in cuffs by now." She grimaced and groaned. This was exactly what she was trying to avoid. "How you been Pavy?" She took a deep, furious breath, and put on her best face. I JUST WANTED TO SEE THE LOXODON!

A wide smile filled her face, her blue eyes were wide and deep like the sea, mesmerizing, on anyone else. "Hey, Lute, I'd love to chat, but-" He carried on.

"Oh, and fair warning, Seria is around. She's my new partner, and an angel." She scoffed and slipped around him.

"Trying to make me jealous, or something? That angel doesn't care about you. None of them do. You're a bug, Lute." She took another step, before spinning back around to face him. "That was so mean. I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I just gotta go. Important stuff." She rushed to hurry away, her mind desperately attempting to distract itself with promises to visit the Noodle Bar out by New Prahv. The hydra gizzard bounced on her hip. GAH! I still need corpseflowers! And lightning!

But she made a fatal mistake: she looked back.

A hooded, cloaked figure moves through the crowds. Probably a woman, though it's hard to tell except up close. Whoever she is, she has no trouble maintaining a fast walk, nearly a run, dodging between clamours of people so skillfully she might as well be incorporeal. She looks up, noticing something on a rooftop and smiling, though no one would see it. Soon, though it's not clear eactly when, she has a paper aeroplane in her hands, and then it lands by Boris' side. She looks up at him for a long moment, her expression still invisible, then turns around and moves back into the crowd, apparently dissapearing into thin air.

Nearby, a fat, black-bearded merchant beats a slave, a dark-skinned man of maybe 30, for dropping some supplies. Twice more, then he orders the slave to get up and gather those that are still intact, while he returns to his own "work". The cloaked woman reappears here, dancing through the packed streets out to this space behind the stall. She turns to the slave and kisses him, suddenly, inexpicably, before throwing him hard onto the cobbled street, possibly seriously injuring him. The merchant, hearing the noise, turns around. People nearby can feel their ears popping as the woman draws red mana to her, before expelling in the form of a little shock. People panic and run as the unlucky man's corpse flies over his own stall into the crowd.

The woman only now draws her hood down to reveal her face. Her hair, different lengths around her head in chaotic fashion, red with black highlights that just as easily be burn marks as dye. Her face, covered in scars and scratches, from both weapon and beast. She bursts out laughing at the chaos around her, and suddenly there is an explanation for all of her strange behaviour: a tattoo of the symbol of Rakdos, hidden in shadow before but now visible just above her collarbone.

Dracoon was sitting in a tavern that was under a merchants building, a place where he and his goblin companions could have some drinks of their own without being disturbed by humans that were always looking to pick on the little creatures.

The drinks weren't exactly good but they were cheap and often would get him the buzz that he was looking for. After having a few drinks and collecting on some small bets he thought about taking this time to leave and continue on with his day, there were some small jobs that he thought he could complete before the day was out.

"Boys, I think my time is up here thanks for the drinks Goldo, and Sliv, if your ever looking to be again I'm your guy, I'll gladly take more of your money." He said to a small group of goblins that were sitting down beside him. They grunted and waved their hands as if sweeping him away. When he was fully standing he heard a scream, something had happened to someone on the streets, and from the sounds of it it was getting other people into a panic.

"Hey fellas looks like we might have an opportunity on our hands, how about we go on and take a look outside." He said knowing full well that you don't need to ask a goblin twice about benefiting from chaos. He and the others made their way to the top of the building to take a closer look at the action.

He saw a man charred from lighting and a woman standing in front of him with a marking on her face, now who could this be? He thought as he looked on, people were scattering in fear, time would be short but they did have a chance at stealing some good loot.

"Alright, it looks as if they are occupied now, I would recommend not getting close to the woman in the robes, she seems to be looking for trouble.
Everything else seems to be up for grabs, so be quick and take what you can then meet back in the sewers to see what we got." He told the goblins and they skittered back down to the main level to begin their looting, today will be an interesting day indeed he thought to himself as he moved on behind the crowd, the chains on his arms loosening and holding the hooks in his hands.

Lute sighed. "That's not nice Pavy... Besides how could I make you jealous? Seria is an angel, as in the type that order me around." The Boros mage huffed as he looked at the thief in front of him. "I was asked by the Loxodon to keep an eye on you... So when your ready to leave duck in an alley and I'll say you vanished." The soldier patted her back.

"What do you have left to get? I wanna hurry this up before Seria comes over... If she find out you and I are friends... Well lets just say she takes rules very seriously," he shuddered. "I got promoted because the last guild mage she had argued with her over tactics and she shocked him hard." The Boros mage sighed. "By the way, I left your present in your room I think you'll like this one." He said smiling a little, thinking about what he had slipped into her hidden little apartment.

Before he could get to the usually teasing or Pavy could respond to his quips a noise carried from further in the market. The soldier watched dozens of innocents fall clutching bloodied ears, his hand clutched at his sword pulling it free as he stepped in front of Pavy. "Pavy, run. Forget whatever you need and get out of the streets." He spoke, before taking a combat stance, as Seria flew up above the Wojek's and soldiers who once stood idle moved readying weapons. Taking up positions in the streets, Lute knew this was how an ambush began Krenko had been bait to draw out a large Boros fighting force enough to satisfy even a Rakdos's thirst for war.

Lute spoke now, eager to see this ended or have the fight begin it was the time between the uncertainty that made him nervous. "...Public assault, attempted murder, destruction of property." He listed the crimes, before bringing back a hand back launching a lightning bolt. "The punishment is death, no need for a law mage." He spoke calmly as the bolt left his hand, he had conviction so damn the consequences.

Pavara was dumbfounded. He's giving me orders... Again? Just can't stop, can he?She opened her mouth to respond, but was stopped by a nearby shout and a sudden ringing in her ears. The crackling sound of high voltage burst into life over a screaming crowd, and a smoking corpse splattered across the cobblestone, the rough pavement scraping a short line of charred flesh and dark red ichor as the body slid to a stop in the center of the market. In a flash like lightning, her cutlass was drawn, and her pineal gland throbbed like an overtired eye on her forehead as she pulled blue mana from the paranoia of the scattering townsfolk and black mana from the fresh corpse, tasting the last memories of the slave on her mind's tongue.

Maybe she could get fresh human remains out of this. Maybe, just maybe, even a human heart, one of the three "holy grails" of horrorforging.

Lute injected himself between Pavara and the excitement, ordering her to leave. "Self-righteous... GAH! You can't order me around!", she screamed, indignant. She shoved past him as he slung a hefty bolt of coursing electricity into the pandemonium, keeping her sword in front of her, a defensive posture she'd picked up while raiding geist-filled mausoleums for human remains. She continued to pull mana from the panic, utilizing Lute as a secondary tap, preparing to summon a beast for battle, her prized Baleful Strix.

Her cutlass blade seemed to glow in the sunlight with contradictory white light, branding her mistakenly to many as some sort of white mage, while all the while she fed on their fear.

She spotted the source of the trouble, a cackling, cloaked woman in the center. And she saw the tattoo. A cold sweat formed on her forehead, and the hairs on her arms bristled uncomfortably against the bodysuit beneath her armor. She tried to focus on her summoning. Not this time... Not this time...

From his position on the roof, Boris could see all the chaos going on. He hadn't yet picked up the paper plane, but had put his foot on it so it wouldn't be blown away. He briefly stopped plucking the strings of his guitar and chuckled. "Now this seems interesting... Why don't I join in..."

Focusing on the charred remains in the street, the world around him seemed to drown itself out. The ashes from the charred body started swirling upwards, drawn to a single point in the air. After the intake of ashes stopped and the black orb levitated in mid-air it started expanding, then it formed limbs--and horns. As Boris opened his eyes again, a Gnarled Scarhide had manifested from the ashes and was brutally attacking Boros legionnaires, and the occasional goblin that got in its way.

No longer focused on the creation of his minotaur, Boris started feeling sick. He knew of course, that he had only one cure--music. Striking a few chords to calm his nerves, Boris soon turned to playing a tune, even singing the song as he prepared his next move.

"Listen up, there's not a moment to spare. It's quite a drop from the top, so how are you feeling down there?"

Turning to Lute from his rooftop, Boris couldn't help but smirk as he continued reciting the lyrics, even though his song would probably be lost in the din. His fingers struck the chords quickly and violently,

"It's a cold, cruel, harsh reality. Caught, stuck, here with your enemies!"

Still, something was odd. That lady was by all means shady, yet the Boros mage seemed surprisingly friendly towards her. Before Boris could think about it further, however, he felt a searing headache, causing him to fall to his knees. Grabbing the letter and stowing it while he got up, Boris now had a more wicked look to him, as if he were a different person altogether. Even after he got up again, he did not stop playing, if anything, he was playing more violently now.

"Who do you think you are? Tearing us all apart, where did you think you could go? 'Cause everyone already knows, it's twenty to one. Yeah, so you better run!"

The Rakdos woman enjoyed the chaos she had made (as any Rakdos member always should). She once full streets had now been mostly emptied of civilians, only a few left running for the exits. A pack of goblins ran around, looting the abandoned stalls, many of which had valuable and treasured goods, but at least as many with things too large to be looted effectively. Even a fair-sized batallion of Azorius and Boros were now standing off against the lone attacker, someone important-looking among them rattling off something about how terrible she was, blah blah blah, let's kill someone worth the effort already.

"Come look at the law mages, with their pretty swords! Watch, as they fail to do the one thing they're supposed to be good at! Be amazed as they cluster themselves all together in one group!" And with that, the woman flung both her arms wide, releasing a Blazing Volley into the cluster of troops positioned, as she commented on, in a conveniently small space for that kind of spell. Drawing black mana from the fresh deaths, the woman then summoned a Rakdos Cackler in a frenzy, unleashing its full power, while maybe a score of Rakdos mages dropped down from rooftops behind her, forming something closer to a mob than a battle formation, but one clearly showing the relative authority of the woman who had initiated the attack.

Cultists leapt from every corner, seemingly from the shadows cast by the sun. Pavara had to act fast, scrapping the Baleful Strix, and instead, casting Psychic Strike, one eye twitching in half-madness, half concentration, focusing on a mage to her left, busy conjuring some sort of fire elemental. His face went blank, and he stumbled to a tented stand, and began stuffing vegetables into his robes. A fireball seemed to zero in on her position, appearing to almost halt in midair, before falling fast. Her feet were faster, as she hurled herself toward a stack of shields and armor. The merchandise, albeit low quality, was heavy enough and the stand it hung on sturdy enough to hold against the flame.

Another cultist charged forward, a long spiked chain biting into his fingers and palm, specks of blood spraying from his hands as he swung the barbed hook on the end in Pavara's direction, like a vampire flail. Her cutlass caught the chain just below its sadistic payload, and the imbued magic within, (Icy Manipulator effect), dropped the assailant on his back, where he gasped for air. She had only a mere moment before he regained his breath and continued his onslaught. Her sword sang as it filleted the skin from his sternum, exposing bloody lungs and beating heart beneath. Despite the man's madness, he screamed in agony. Her opportunity was fading.

She plunged her hands into his chest, ignoring the chaos. And for the moment, the chaos ignored her. A human heart AND a hydra gizzard? Today is my lucky day!

And in one glorious moment, she held in her hands a beating human heart.

A stray arrow, charged with electricity, struck her shoulder, and she toppled, stunned, onto her prize, which burst like the sanguine balloon it was. She cried out in pain and anger, while the body beside her, void of the most vital of organs, began to seize and shake. The ringleader cackled with delight, and continued the carnage. All the while, the wailing sound of an electric guitar set the stage for the most entertaining brawl Pavara had ever seen.

She felt a tug at her belt. A goblin was attempting to tear her hydra gizzard from her, likely not even knowing what it was. Her sword was swift, and its cut clean. The goblin screamed and fell back, as his innards poured onto the cobblestone. Pavara lost herself, grasping the goblin's moaning face, and slamming his head down onto the stones. Over and over and over again, until his skull was broken and his brain uncontained. And in the middle of the chaos, she spotted the woman who had started it all. "BITCH!" She grasped the grip of a fallen heater shield and slung it like a discus toward the ringleader, as she ducked behind a stand covered in candles and brass chalices. She muttered to herself, "Ruined my chance... Gonna get you...", while wiping blood from her armor to expose the arcane hieroglyphics beneath. Tsthogga, give me strength.

She pressed her hand over a rune that looked oddly like an eye, mid-blink, pulling black-blue mana from both her own faith as well as the panic and death that surrounded her. A tentacle rose in her mind's eye, and she readied herself for summoning.

When the Mage had unleashed her volley Lute he didn't move, picking up the shield of a fallen brother he reached back drawing on the mana around him. He unleashed his own spell, Boros Charm Every soldier around him cried out wounds did not matter, Seria above swooped down upon the the woman who had begun this attack. Lute turned to the soldiers "kill them where they stand! For Ravnica! For justice!"

The angel's holy blade eager to taste the blood of the witch that had harmed her soldiers, she swooped down yet fire errupted around the witch as well Seria was a Firemane Avenger. As Lute and all the other soldiers Azorius or Boros rushed in, the Rakdos would find it impossible to cut them down. Blades bouncing off skin and armor, spells finding no purchase as they out numbered and felled targets with no wounds.

This way the power of a guild mage and an angel, one to give the troops the power they needed to over come. The other to give them the divine will to charge at certain death with no fear. In those moments when the forces met the Rakdos could see that this was not a battle to the Boros but a simple proof of power. Lute rushed Boris bringing a blade down aimed for his instrument, the blade dancer twirled wildly a second move a jab aimed for the man's knee.

Upon seeing Lute's charm, Boris looked at the legionnaire disapprovingly, and he drew mana from the death and the mayhem in the streets, partially fueled by his enemy. Malicious energy started gathering around Boris' fist and it swirled ominously. With a furious, destructive glare at Lute, Boris used the energy, casting Terminate, aimed at Seria, planning to send her to the place he believed she belonged; the afterlife. (this is a stack)

As the shield was sent flying at the woman, Boris' gnarled scarhide stepped in the way, and punched it out of the air. Boris jumped down from his roof upon seeing the army press forward, sending the scarhide after the bulk of them. As it started rushing forward at the small legion, energy from the surrounding corpses seemed to flock to it, and it bulked up visibly through the effects of Boris' Rush of Vitality spell. Smashing legionnaires left and right in its unbridled fury, shattering many bones but failing to kill or be killed as it went along.

As Lute approached him in a full-frontal assault, Boris smirked. The sword struck towards the guitar, and would soon find itself blocked by the side of that very same guitar, barely even damaging it. Before Lute could get on with his second attack, Boris threw a kick aimed at the legionnaire's head, proving surprisingly flexible. By now, Boris had stopped playing his guitar, simply standing there and starting to glow ever so slightly.
"Hey kid, don't you know? Death and mayhem is Rakdos' territory. Bug off or I'll kill you. The attempt was cute, but your performance is lackluster."

Damn it. Angels hurt. Of course, pain only makes the whole spectacle more... spectacular.

The woman leading the attack cackled loudly as the two forces began to clash. Blood and bodies were everywhere, on both sides of the battlefield. Her own was suffering due to there being outnumbered, but the man who had been on a roof had at least dealt with the angel that had hurt her just a moment ago.

She saw a way to even up the fight in a way the Boros forces wouldn't anticipate. She raised an arm into the air, as a pulse of deep red energy echoed over the battle. Now, as each of the Rakdos warriors fell and died, they would burst into a ball of fire, almost always killing the killer. Oh, the looks on their faces! The Boros soldiers were no longer sure whether or not they should be attacking their enemies. It really was a Showstopper.

The woman now noticed an elf, who appeared to be some sort of authority figure towards the goblins. Interesting. Certainly not as sophisticated as one might expect from an elf, but who cares? The woman strode towards him, ignoring both the cut and the burn she had recieved from that damn angel, and pulled a long, slender knife from her boot.

Dracoon was in heaven, as the chaos commenced he and his goblins took whatever they could get their hands on.

"It's not everyday that we get an opportunity like this, so make the best of it!" He shouted to the goblins that were making their way out with armfuls of loot. Only to dump them in a nearby stockpile and heading back into the fray.

Of course there were those that were getting killed by being too abrasive and trying to mug some of the people that were running. There are always casualties in situations like this, Dracoon just had to be smart, take what he could carry and get out of their. He was able to get a his own armful of trinkets and accessories and was minding his own business when a soldier tried to come at him. He threw some of the trinkets into the soldiers face which made him place his hands up to protect his eyes and Dracoon kicked the main straight in the crotch, as the man fell to his knees he took the mans sword and threw it away in the crowd, "Hope you don't need that hahaha!" He laughed as he continued on.

The chaos was in full swing and many of his goblin companions had now gone back into hiding since there was no longer a need to be around. Using the blood and fire in the people he summoned a Goblin Warchief, a Legion Loyalist and after gathering more mana from the chaos he used one of his Dragon Fodder. Two more goblins appeared in front of him. He then gave them the command to take hiding places amid the chaos and to only reveal themselves when he gave the word. He then continued to pillage whatever he could.

A red aura then surrounded the area and the men began to cry in pain as they were burned, for some reason the elf was not affected by this and thanked the gods for his luck. He continued on to his drop off place but was met with a state, a women stood across from him and began to walk towards him very quickly, pulling a knife out of her boot. It must be the woman who started the whole thing, he put together as he started to plan whether to run or fight.

"Hold on there lady, now just because you stir up some shit doesn't mean everyone involved has to die, some of us live on the scraps of others, I should be thanking you, but now that you have that knife I would like to take it back." He said with his hands still full of loot. She got to a distance that was too close for comfort (4-5 meters), he threw the loot in her direction, "don't press your luck asshole! I haven't survived this long with just my good looks you know! If you want a fight well then you got one! (Unless you start winning then I am getting the hell out of here) He yelled, whispering the last part under his breath.

As he spoke he laid down his chains and placed a straight line in her direction and began to spin, kicking up dirt with the chains and making it flow around him, he did this until a veil of dust flowed around making it hard to clearly see him. The whole time paying attention to the line, and when he last saw it he began using his momentum and threw his left chain out towards the line using it as his marker. The force and speed of the chain was great and shortened the right chain, but kept it spinning in the case that she dodged the throw.

Keen blue eyes scanned the warzone. She had to think fast.

Priority 1: Get out of trouble.

She spotted a short, thin crack, just under the the top of the retaining wall around the market. Just perfect. She charged from her hiding place and jumped, slamming her cutlass blade into it, to use as leverage, climbing over the top like a spider. Bits of dust and crumbling rock tumbled down, but her sword held fast.

Priority 2: Go on the offensive.

She closed her eyes, listening to the chaos beyond the wall. The sounds of rushing flame. The ring of clashing steel. Shouts and cries and screams. She peeked over the top, and selected what looked like some kind of Boros commander. He was large, though it could have just been his armor. But the things he knew... She cast a spell on him, Pilfered Plans running from his mind into hers, she saw his next move, but he forgot it. Confused, he hesitated, as a jester of Rakdos origin leapt onto his back, cackling, and slit his throat with a long thumbnail, practically a talon.

She ducked back behind the wall, and focused. Her next spell would have to be a real show of force. After all, the Dimir were extremely underrepresented in this conflict.

Priority 3: Summon.

She focused, feeling her soul alight with the darkness that dwells only in the deepest of minds. Black mana, drawn from the dying. Blue mana, drawn from the screaming.
Am I going a little too far, here? Bat wings and segmented legs writhed in her thoughts as she answered herself. No. Not far enough. She sheathed her sword and pressed both hands to the sides of her head. Her eyes rolled back as she prepared her mind.

As the Terminate spell was cast Seria knew she had over extended, retreating back she used a Cloudshift to phase away moving to rally the troops and summon up her sisters if possible.

Meanwhile Lute took the kick sliding backwards before rubbing his lip with the back of his hand, a trickle of blood from it. "I have not yet begun to kill!" He laughed kicking his a fallen sword up off the ground, as around the area the air began to change. Rank's began to close, medic's arriving to aid the soldiers locking shield with other soldiers. Potions helping them to heal and restore the wounded as they struck back at the Rakdos warriors.

Lute took a step forward and spun, what Boris had not counted on was that he was not the only musician. Lute kept his own rhythm on the battlefield, his title Blade dancer was not some made up term. He had been a dancer in his youth, and when he fought his footwork was as perfect and graceful as a dancer.

Lunging forward his first strike a quick jab, the second a long sweeping blow at the music loving cultist. Yet changing feet he kicked out right at Boris's face, a lightning bolt striking his face at point blank range before he rolled backward blades at the ready. "I hope you enjoyed the taste... I have plenty more where that came from dog."