"A creature capable of silencing an entire camp, potentially ripping mine and Beatrixs wards and who may have the title of Butcher, is potentially running amok and you wish to separate on your own to sound the alarms. By all means, go, be brave, and die a fool." The Lalafell commander said as he finished with his strange ritual. Cyterius bristled at the direct insult towards his judgment but remained quiet. River did have a point, if he had gotten singled out by the creature stalking them, then he was likely a dead man. Still, he was confident in his abilities to evade detection. While he was weighing the pros and cons of heading out to recon the camp and alert the sentries, Kharne had ideas of his own.

With a powerful bellow, the draconian warrior shouted into the town, heading out on his own. The sheer force of the sound made Cyterius wince and close his eyes. The fact that the position of the commanders, or at least people who knew what was happening, had just been revealed to their enemies made him feel very vulnerable as well.

"That was a mistake..." S'venia said, voicing the thoughts of nearly everyone in the room. "The enemy knows that we know. We no longer have the element of surprise. I fear that they shall seek to confront us to take the initiative." Cyterius said, wondering what the status of the rest of the camp was, and more importantly, the Falcons and the Skirmishers. S'venia went around, appearing to offer advice and giving them some kind of ward that he felt when she touched him. S'venia did not strike him as a magic-user the first time they had met, so this had come as much of a surprise, though it only showed with a simple raised eyebrow. S'venia also repeated to him the same point that River had made, though this time he nodded. The enemy was on alert now, and hopefully any of their soldiers nearby as well, thanks to Kharne. Recon was out of the question, they had to stay together and face the foe at full strength.

“I do not know how to kill this enemy, it is unlike anything you or I have ever faced in our lives... maybe the book might be of help,” S'venia added. Cyterius nodded. While he did not trust such magic that he did not know the source of, someone or something had seen fit to warn them of their enemy. For all he knew, it could even BE their enemy, taunting them with their arrival. But if there was one thing he had learned throughout his life, it was that all communication holds information. Even simple taunts from the enemy could betray the way they think or work. The book may yet hold something they could use.

He raised his sword and followed the group outwards, trailing behind in the rear, and glancing backwards. Given his light armaments and perceptive ability, he saw it fit to act as the rear guard of their party and watch for ambush.

He spotted the frozen soldiers as the others did, and they made him pause for a moment wondering why they were not moving or calling out to them. Then he realized that some malign force was keeping them held in place, much like in the disturbing vision River had shown them. Cyterius exhaled as he let his nervousness course through his body, using it to stay alert and examine the scene around them thoroughly. He had no wish to share in the fate of the lost soldiers, and he would be damned if he did not go down without a fight. He wondered if all the soldiers in their camp were like this, and how many were still alive. Was their expedition already destroyed?

"Stick together" S'venia ordered, breaking his line of thought. Cyterius shook his head as he continued scanning the area. Such negative thoughts could wait until after the enemy was dealt with. While he considered regrouping with his own forces, he figured that if they were all in this state as well, then there was little he could do to help them. He had to stay with those who were still unaffected and try to eliminate whatever was causing this infernal spell.

The group eventually came upon Kharne, apparently frozen much like the other soldiers they had seen. S'venia approached them before suddenly stopping with her hand held up above Kharne's shoulder. For one dreadful moment, Cyterius thought she had also been afflicted by whatever had trapped the rest of the camp, but he saw her move slightly as if tensing up, and then he saw movement ahead of her.

"Movement ahead" He said quickly, wondering how he had not spotted it before. “Commanders, our enemy has arrived,” S'venia announced as Cyterius aimed his wrist-mounted crossbow forward, at the source of the motion, which seemed to suddenly stop as well as if inspecting them. The creature's look defied all conventions and expectations. Yet somehow, it fit perfectly with the stories he had heard about the previous Wars of the Breach. The abomination standing before them made Cyterius feel sick just looking at it, most especially when its face and body moved as it spoke to them in an unnatural voice.

The creature seemed to address S'venia, who replied curtly, as if she understood them, before producing a bright golden light that seemed to break Kharne out of his imprisonment. Kharne, welcome back She said as the dragon seemed to be getting their bearings back.

Before anyone could give the order to attack, Cyterius decided to take the creature by surprise, and loosed a bolt from his crossbow into the center of its porcelain face. He rapidly fired a second bolt into the center of its muscled body, to see how it would react to attacks on either area. This left him with 3 bolts left in his current magazine, and a likely chance at having pissed off their opponent. Given that he felt a fight was about to break out anyway, it was a calculated risk.

---

As soon as S'venia said her peace and Beatrix gave her wards, River dug into his satchel and pulled out his tome which was wrapped in a large piece of leather to protect it from the elements. He hurriedly went to wrap the butchers tome in the leather, being sure not to touch it himself and only use the leather to handle, wrap and then store it. Kharne however had other plans, announcing their presence to the enemy and then bolting off. River wouldve been surprised had it not been for the fact that his people knew that the bigger they were they less they had between the ears. A long sigh escaped his lips as he made his way towards the front door of the house and followed out after the others. Cyteruis appeared to lull behind, no doubt taking the rear position to help protect the casters a bit more.

As River ran through the snow he looked about and noticed the soldiers, frozen, images of the bloodshed he witnessed flashed through his mind once more as it appeared to be happening again, only this time to his own people. The enchantments were beyond his study of magic, but not beyond his astrologins. If only there weren't frozen as well. His eyes darted back and forth, searching for any of the white coats that signified his armies healers, or that of the star speckled wardrobes of the astrologins, healers who used time to aid wounds. Finally he happened upon a coat of white, breaking off slightly from the group as this tiny legs ran towards the nearby ally and spiriting away his spellbook full of geometric designs. River opened it up, reading and running as he made his way back to the group, holding the book open in his right hand as his left fiddled around his pocket in search of small round spectacles that sat on his button nose. "Curse his horrid writing, I can scarcely make heads or tails of these designs. Is that the line of the Fey or the fray? This may be more difficult than I anticipated." he grumbled to himself as he examined the book, attempting to learn even the most basic of healing from the tome.

Once they reached the large buffon, River stood back in awe as a large slender creature built of pure muscle stood before them. Its body akin to that of a panther or other predatory large cat, slender yet muscular and most likely agile. Cyteruis cast several bolts at the creature, catching both it and River by surprise. Soon a cacophony of laughter began to fill the air, magic permeating it, filling River with the unsettling feeling of its archaic nature. The tome he held slammed shut and he quickly swapped it out with that of his own. The pages seemed to dance and move to exactly where he needed as his hand fluttered over the geometric runes and a glow began anew. The snow around him began to swirl and flurry, melting and forming into an orb above him. Once it reached to one and a half the size of Kharne, it began to form and bend before River, creating a duplicate of water and ice, yet it was more lithe, agile looking. A nimble beast to combat a nimble beast after all. Before River could order an attack, the beast revealed a red jewel that glistened and attacked his allies. Red streaks flew forth and made gouges into the areas they hit, bit River stood his ground and began to analyze the jewel and blast to see if he could find a weakness or at least ascertain what they were dealing with. Once the barrage ended he commanded his beast to attack. Its hind, catlike legs bent before it kept forward, darting to the enemy and using its clawed hands to strike where the jewel was held.

Kharne had been caught off guard when he had been frozen somehow. He burned almost twice as hot as the average human, and yet he had been stiffened just like the rest. Magic at play of course, because it was always magic. He watched the strange creature end a soldiers life with a blade on its arm, and then absorb...something, from the body. Life energy? A soul? He didn't know but it finally turned its sights on him. After of course new growths appeared, which meant it fed on something after it killed someone. It started to approach him now, albeit slowly, was it taunting him or was that just how slow it moved?

A faint voice was heard then warmth returned to his body, S'venia had released him from that icy prison. Kharne planted the tip of his giant sword in the ground and leaned against it, feeling drained. "Feeds on what it kills...white, wispy, red crystal might be its core..." He growled out as he glared at the Butcher. "Blade in arm, probably both..." He continued as one of the others fired bolts from a crossbow at the creature. Which resulted in negligible or no damage. After a laughing fest from the creature of course, because why would it feel threatened by so few when it takes out platoons at its own leisure.

It performed some strange magic, which revealed the crystal it hid, and returned the scout commanders bolt. Although it had rebuilt and improved it. S'venia was the one who said incoming, so Kharne moved out of the way as his strength returned to him. It didn't take long, he had always recovered quickly. Probably because of both of his heritages. The shortest of the group had made a construct out of water, which mimicked Kharne/Butcher and had an agile looking shape.

Standing up straight, Kharne rolled his head which cracked his neck. His sword was brought up to rest on his shoulder before he started to walk towards the Butcher. Those crimson eyes scanned the creature, looking at its exposed muscle, clearly he was watching that to predict movement as he approached. His free hand, which was his armored arm, was kept loose as he got within striking distance of the Butcher. It hadn't moved yet aside from retaliating to Cyterius. He was testing it to see what it would do but was fully prepared to block or parry its blow when, or if, it attacked.

Cyterius tensed up as he watched the creature react to his attack. The one hitting the face reflected off seemingly harmlessly, though it at least dented the material. The second shot had a much more dramatic ending, with it exploding into fragments across the cold ground. The creature slowly appraised the fallen bolt before looking back up, seemingly looking straight at Cyterius. The stare was unsettling and condescending, even before the laughter had begun. Cyterius took some moments to look around in confusion at the sudden sounds, though he kept the creature in his peripheral vision.

The rest of the group did not remain idle however as River had conjured up a creature to assist them and Kharne began to approach their enemy. The monster on the other hand began glowing a painful red light from its chest, bright enough that Cyterius had trouble looking directly at it, but could still tell this "butcher" was still looking directly at him. Inexplicably, it began reconstructing the shattered bolt into something smaller, wicked, and sparking with the dark red energy. Cyterius could tell what was going to happen next, but S'venia voiced his thoughts before he could.

"Incoming!" She shouted. Cyterius wasted no time and launched himself in the direction opposite of S'venia while keeping an eye on the bolt. "Watch the bolt!" He exclaimed to his comrades as he rolled into a crouching position to the side of the path and kept his eye on the red projectile, half-expecting it to change course and continue chasing him or one of the party members. He wanted to keep himself in a stance that let him stay mobile until the projectile was became inert or destroyed.

Kharne had cautiously approached the monster with their sword drawn, preparing to engaging while keeping an eye on the monster's movements. However he had not noticed two things. For one, he overestimated how quickly his strength would return, as the residual effects of the creature's magic entrapment were more than mere physical fatigue. The magic had taken a toll on his body that physical exhaustion did not match. Following this, he had not noticed the change in the surroundings, the way the air seemed to take on an otherworldly quality as he had gotten closer to his opponent. The Butcher turned to the dragon with a caricature of a smirk on its porcelain face.

As Kharne approached, he would feel an immense weight suddenly placed on his mind. His vision would grow blurred, and to him everything would appear out of focus. Though as the seconds passed, he and only he would hear more of the unnatural laughter. The scenery that once graced the village shifted before his eyes. Once covered merely by a winter's storm, the village was now covered in the icy tendrils of an otherworldly monster. The winds lashed against Kharne's exposed skin in a way that felt oddly familiar. The sight of the butcher before him would flicker between the monster the group saw and the true beast it hid. And before long, the butcher that Kharne had approached had been replaced by the beast that nearly claimed him before when he was alone.

And this revealed creature smiled. They smiled as arcs of energy danced forth from the crystal on its chest into its hand. Inexplicably, this smile spread even further across its wicked porcelain face as the energy took the form of a red ball. And as the winds of winter lashed and enveloped around the body of the dragon, a laughter Kharne and Kharne alone would hear drowned out the roar of the winds. Kharne had eluded the grasps of the butcher once before, and the butcher smiled at the thought of correcting that.

As Kharne approached, the creature let loose its arcane barrage and sent itself forth, charging towards the towering beast.



The searing red bolt, as Cyterius predicted, had indeed changed its course in mid-air to chase after him. The Kyrantian launched himself upward from their crouching position just as the bolt narrowly missed behind them, shattering the window of an empty village house and burying itself somewhere inside. While the group could not see inside the structure, they would eventually see sudden arcs of energy erupt from the orifices of the house and creep along the surfaces, as if enveloping it with crackling, phasing tentacles. With violent pulses vibrating through the air, the crackling energy seemed to magnetize the material of the house, cracking stone on the floor and breaking the wood of the walls and pillars. It pulled all matter inwards towards it like an inverse explosion. For one moment, the pulsing energy stopped and went silent, before it suddenly flared into a blinding flash as it sent all the wood and debris they gathered flying outwards across the street, and the cottage itself being reduced to rubble.

The Party of course was not going to stay idle as this happened. As Kharne seemed to suddenly be frozen in place in the same way the group had originally found them, River's water creature moved in to retaliate. As the Butcher seemed so pre-occupied with staring at Kharne, River's summoned creature managed to land a strike directly on the creature, causing the Butcher to flinch and move backwards, averting its gaze from Kharne before reactively raising a fist covered in its red energy, and smashing the elemental creature aside.

As the summoned creature was dispelled into ice and water, the monster stopped to look down at the crystal. It seemed as sturdy as before, with no visible physical damage. Throughout the air, the formless laughter echoed once more.

Beatrix watched and waited, shield held protectively in front of her and hand on her pommel. She’d moved out with the rest of the group, making sure her light fell on them through the movement, and watched with narrowed eyes as it laughed. Or somethings did. Her eyes darted around the field, looking for anything that would give a clue to what was happening. The bolt now consuming the house was rather unappealing and she had no interest in surrendering her troops to this abomination. She watched carefully as the ice and water creature slammed against the monster. Curious. It hadn’t been worried about the bolt before so what about this was so different? Ice? Water?

Magic.

Fight fire with fire. An abhorrent saying of the other races, willing to concede their values to worsening horrors for the value of temporary victory. What good is evil even when it provides for the greater good? But philosophising aside, it seemed the creature’s “heart”, for lack of a better term, was unnaturally hard so perhaps magic was the only thing that had an opportunity to destroy it. And what better magic did they have than a Goddess blessed blade?

Beartix took a deep breath, glanced at the party, and nodded resolutely. She drew Gryphon, the crystal clear sound of its blade singing as it hit the cold air, and winked at the Butcher. She threw S’vennia a determined look, glanced at the Blade of Ruin, and tilted her head at the beast before turning back to face the creature and grinned, laughing loudly.

“If its a dance you want, tis a dance you shall have! Lets see if we can keep you occupied for a while! And I think our tune will be cover fire, no?” Beatrix taunted brazenly before she charged, shield high and blade ready. “For all who came before us and for all who march with us still!” Her blade matched her shield, sheathed in a shimmering white light.

She dug her heel into the ground and, instead of swinging at the beast, turned the other direction to leave her armored back open for a strike as the tip of her blade swing behind her and up towards the creature’s face. The move would frame its chest perfectly and hopefully the glow of the magical enhancement would keep it blinded long enough for a follow up strike.

Kharne felt the air changing as he continued his approach. The surroundings changed as well, flickering between reality and this...spirit world. He had never seen nor heard of such a being that seemed to exist, and control, both planes. That laughter rung out again, but he just tuned it out. It was probably to make people unsettled if they somehow resisted the freezing that this creature did. Then again it probably found all of this to be great fun, its body was essentially nothing but metal. How did one kill what might not even be truly alive?

At a certain point he felt that sensation again, that immense weight. But he wasn't covered in ice this time. Clenching his jaw he pushed himself, forcing his body to continue forward. The sudden winds were cold, freezing like his old mountainous home. Steam wafted from his body from the unnatural coldness. Another step and reality changed again, it was the ghostly appearance now instead of the one of iron.

Its strange smile grew wider as it gathered energy in its palm. "You got me unawares once..." He growled out through clenched teeth. His body moved as the Butcher rushed him. His bones sounded like steel girders bending from him forcing his muscles to react. He wasn't as fast as he normally was, but he had seen how the Butcher would move its hand. A ball could be thrown, or thrust, but it only went in a single direction. Forward.

Kharne shifted slightly, letting his bulks weight help move him out of the way of its charging thrust while he tried to grab its wrist. He was only guessing he could even touch the damn thing, but its arms and torso seemed solid while its lower body was the more ghostly of it.

“If its a dance you want, tis a dance you shall have! Lets see if we can keep you occupied for a while! And I think our tune will be cover fire, no?... For all who came before us and for all who march with us still!” Beatriz cried as she begun her assault on the beast. The Butcher regarded her almost with curiosity as she enacted her unusual move, arrogant that it would do no harm.

In this it was wrong, as Beatrix's blade made contact, the monster was staggered by the blow. In the realm it had trapped Kharne into, the dragon would also see the butcher stagger even though it did not seem as if anything had struck it. The backwards stagger caused Kharne's grab to miss, but it also caused the energy beam it had planned to hit Kharne with ended up firing early and wild from being knocked off-balance, the blast flying into a nearby cottage, crashing through a window in similar fashion to the bolt Cyterius had fired. Within seconds, another implosion blew the structure apart. Kharne saw it all unfold as it happened. In the "Real world" the party would witness the building erupt as if spontaneously. Debris was flung and scattered across the streets and neighboring houses.

In Kharne's dimension, the Butcher regained its footing and faced towards the dragon, bringing one of it's limbs back again in an attempt to do a quick melee strike against Kharne instead of wasting time charging another energy blast. In the party's perspective, the monster was looking at nothing, nowhere near where Kharne's real body stood, and had faced away inexplicably from Beatrix, leaving it open to another attack.

Kharne took note that some force had made the Butcher stumble. The others must be doing something, this was clearly not the usual plane of reality. This has to be a spirit plane of some sort. He thought as it righted itself. When it drew its arm back for a strike Kharne got ready. It telegraphed its attacks so much, was it that cocky? Or was it invulnerable in certain planes?

When it slashed for him he batted aside its attack with a flick of his sword. Even if it was stronger, a parry only took a fraction of someones strength. It was essentially using their own strength and balance against them. His wing lunged forward, the massive limbs clawed 'hand' was curled into a makeshift fist to plow into the Butcher's chest.