"... Ah."

It had been just too much at once for him.

The vampire's headless body toppled sideways, landing with a dull thud, crimson leaking onto the stone floor. His head, in Tyaethe's grip, seemed to still be quite alive for the moment.

That was unlikely to last much longer.

"... I see, so I should have taken you all more seriously," he said, speaking in spite of being nothing more then a severed head, "My my, I guess all that taunting didn't pay off, did it? You handsome gentlemen sure now how to reject someone..."

It was strange, how Damon Cal seemed to speak so casually, even though his remaining life was draining away at a rapid pace.

"... To be honest, I had hoped to fight you," he commented, his crimson eyes, coming to rest on the vampire holding him, "You're quite adorable, far more then I expected."

To see someone manage to sigh without a throat was rather impressive.

"Perhaps agreeing to join them was a mistake, after all. In any case, I shall leave you with these parting words:"

A smirk crossed the vampire's lips.

"You should best prepare, for not everything that is gone is dead."

The light left those crimson eyes, and yet the smirk remained on his lips.

Damon Cal was dead.

---

Her knights were at her side, and Vosahnn's sister was still alive...! Fanilly could feel the hope awaken, just a little, in her heart. The enemy would dare not kill their hostage, not now. Not when she was still of potential value in order to preserve their own lives.

The skeletons were immediately distracted with Maritza's arrival as well! One had already crumbled, and the others would prove no more durable then it had. As long as they kept making this progress they could do it!

Taking one of the skeletons by surprised, the diminutive blonde knight used the pommel of her sword like a hammer, knocking apart its upper body and caving in the back of its skull. The solid metal was more then enough to break old bone, even if the skeletons were armored! Pulling Vosahnn close with her free hand, she kicked another skeleton away, the others completely distracted by Maritza! As long as she could get in close...!

"Tch."

The lightning mage cocked her head, a blue shield of light and rotating symbols seeming to materialize around her body, sparks flying as the thrown knife bounced off of it. Raising one hand, she unleashed a bolt of lightning towards her attacker, from the center of a magic circle of light at her fingertip!

... And in a blur of red, it suddenly veered ever so slightly off course, ripping past Sir Gerard and striking the wall meters behind him with enough power to blow apart the solid stone.

"I missed? Damn it!"

Confused at what could have just happened, the mage concluded rather wisely that her opponent was now too close for any spell of sufficient power to stop him for certain. Instead, she immediately began moving back, raising her hands to reinforce her magical barrier and try and keep up her defense while maintaining some distance.

The masked man cocked his head as his skeletons proved insufficient.

"You do realize I could kill the little nem at any time, don't you?" he commented, "But if you insist on this farce..."

He opened his cloak. Affixed to his belt were jars, four total, filled with a sickly green-brown fluid.

"I shall see to it that this is nothing more than a fool's errand."

Casually, he tossed one to the ground, allowing it to shatter. An impossibly foul odor, like that of long-rotten, fermenting meat, filled the room as the grotesque viscous fluid flowed from around the shards of glass. Almost immediately it spread out from where the jar had landed, its mass scooping up scattered bone shards, broken armor, and the weapons lost by the skeletons, before steadily rising and taking on a vaguely humanoid shape, shards of sharp metal, and bone sticking out of its mass, and the weapons it had captured protruding from one arm.

"Wh... what?"

Fanilly was taken aback. What was this awful... slimy... thing?!

---

"Ah... well..."

The princess paused for a few moments.

"With all this commotion, many of them are quite busy ensuring that word does not escape these walls. And I can speak with them whenever I like... speaking with one of the Iron Rose Knights is quite different," she replied, smiling. It almost felt like the attempt on her life was a distant memory, at least for the moment.

"Ah, the Ingvarr, what were they like?" Eliabelle asked. She'd never met any before, so she was frankly eager to hear more about them from someone who had.

@HereComesTheSnow@Asuras@jdh97@Animal@TheFake@Crimson Paladin@PaulHaynek@FlappyTheSpybot@Raineh Daze@ghastlyinc@Krayzikk@Heartfillia

Fleuri Jodeau

Fleuri's attack struck true, cleaving the vampire's head from his shoulders. The body fell where it stood, while the head was picked up by Tyaethe. It seemed he wouldn't be able to regenerate this time- he was no longer able to control the blood in his body, and his head didn't have enough to reconnect at this distance. It made sense, he supposed, that Tyaethe would know exactly the limits of a vampire's ability to pull himself together.

"... I see, so I should have taken you all more seriously. My my, I guess all that taunting didn't pay off, did it? You handsome gentlemen sure now how to reject someone..."

It seemed even without a body, Damon was still capable of talking. It'd be an impossible feat for a normal human, but Damon ceased to be constrained by the limitations of mortals. No doubt he wanted to give some final words before the death he had long evaded finally caught up to him.

Damon continued his final ramblings, expressing his disappointment at not getting a shot at fighting the Iron Roses' vampire and his regret at joining the conspiracy that resulted in his demise. They were fairly understandable final words, all things considered. Before finally fading, however, he gave a cryptic warning.

"You should best prepare, for not everything that is gone is dead." With that, he went silent. Their opponent had been felled.

It's finally over. Your long-overdue death has finally come, Damon Cal. It's a shame you chose to inflict even more shame and disgrace upon the Cal family.

"If that's all, we'd best get down to support the captain with whomever else is down there," Fleuri said, walking over to Damon's body. "But first, I think this might come in handy," he said as he eyed Damon's crossbow. He carefully picked the up the weapon with one hand, and patted down Damon's body looking for more quarrels with the other hand.

"I'm not much of a shooter, but I wonder if that Nem girl...Tili, I think, could use this?" he asked the others. "The conspirators owe her a new crossbow anyway." Technically, it should probably be handed over to the Cal family, but it seemed unlikely that they'd push for ownership of the weapon of another black mark on their family. If Tili couldn't use it, they could always just toss it into Damon's empty coffin.

There was a lot of other stuff Fleuri wanted to talk about. He wanted to discuss the fight with Jarde and Nicomede, he wanted to ask Tyaethe if she knew who Damon was, he wanted to discuss Damon Cal's dying words, and he wanted to complain about the bloodstains that had gotten on the sleeves of his white tunic during the fight. Now was not the time, however. The other knights had probably run into the others that Damon had mentioned, and would need support.

Carrying the crossbow and a few quarrels taken from Damon, Fleuri headed down the stairs. The battle was not over yet, not until all of the conspirators were dead and Tili's sister was safe.

@PaulHaynek@Raineh Daze@Krayzikk

Tyaethe stood for a moment as Damon Cal kept monologuing, wondering just what sort of warning that was supposed to be. Of course not everything that disappeared was dead, he was living... well, no longer living, proof of that. But why should she care? It wasn't like she had much knowledge of ancestral members of the Cal family, least of all those that had been before her time. Or... lifting the head up as high as possible, Tyaethe considered it from a rather different angle.

Well, not so far before her time, then. Barely.

"Of all the people to show up as a vampire after over two hundred years, you would never expect it to be the party boy," she said, putting the head onto the collapsed body--at least it shouldn't be too hard to arrange a burial for this one, as he was probably already meant to be here somewhere--and picking up the sword, frowning at all the blood coating her arm. "He even skipped the rebellion."

Gerard Segremors

@VitaVitaAR

A crimson glow before him, and the smell of burning copper, burning blood, filling the air. The magus lifted her arms, one projecting and arcane shield that stopped the path of his heavy knife through the air, whilst the other—

He was between strides. A stroke of luck for her, perhaps? Or was it keen timing? Either way, he could only twist his torso to try and wrench himself to the side, if enough time even existed. The next instant would determine it all— so long as he could close range and get ahold of her, he could certainly take her out of the fight. But just the same, if she loosed a bolt straight into his chest...

Storms set blazes. Melted metal. The fist of the gods would strike his chest. He, who could not even supply himself a cuirass, would take it against mere cloth. Merely escaping from the blast itself with his life would be nothing short of miraculous. It came down, then, to this instant. Would his speed surpass hers? Would his strategy? Would his raw luck?

The point of crimson light, casting the woman's face in deathly, pulsing reds— concentrated itself at the tip of her finger.

He did not dive wildly. It would arrest his momentum. He'd give her time to reposition. Regain her footing.

Unallowable. Without his base, however, he could barely shift at all, let alone with nuance. A sitting duck. No. Dead meat, waiting to be fried. On a set path, at a set velocity, with no way to escape it. There wasn't even a breath left to be taken. If he could just get one foot on the ground before that cannon of the skies was launched..!

The thud of boot upon stone, chased by the ripping of the world, echoing through the cavernous mausoleum like a roar from heaven itself.

A scarlet burst, bright enough to blind all who beheld it and turning the air itself the color of blood and rubies.

Heat that pulled wind from lungs, singed hairs, cooked alive everything within its path.

...

And he drove forward, ears ringing and right eye forced shut, yet still unerringly affixed upon his quarry. The space between them was closed in an instant. He knew not the method by which she had missed. Maybe his knife had distracted her from that crucial moment she needed to judge the distance. Maybe he had managed to pull himself free from the line of death she'd traced. Maybe Lady Reon smiled upon him for his faith. He had no way of knowing.

He only knew that this was an opening he'd never get again. Shifting to a grip upon the blade rather than hilt, sword became warhammer as the knight swung.

His strike, overhead and aimed for the woman's collarbone, met a wall of force before it could render the shoulder girdle a dozen shards. That shield again. He couldn't hook her off her feet, yank her head forward, or empty her lungs with his crossguard and pommel until he found a way around that. He could not yet capture his hastily scampering foe, trying to regain some space between them.

In that case, let her scramble. He just needed to steer her into a wall. Nowhere to run.

Do not let up on this pressure.

Do not abate the attack.

Keep moving forward!

For several moments, the Naga seemed to not notice the slimy monstrosity as she set about destroying the remaining skeletal knights with her signature brutal efficiency. It was only after crushing the last skeleton between her coils, it's aged breastplate crumpling beneath her might, that the Naga turned to face the newest arrival to the battlefield. And for the first time that night, Maritza didn't charge.

Rearing back, the Naga let out a low, snarling hiss. Despite their objective being right before them, every instinct in her body screamed to NOT fight the monster before her. For a split second, logic, instinct and duty fought for control of Maritza's next more. Out of the corner of her eye, She saw the cross-guard of Gerard's sword be repulsed by the sorceress' barrier. Now there was a fight she could win.

Fainting a charge back in, Maritza diverted her momentum at the last moment; instead rushing headlong towards Gerard and the mage. Throwing a brief jog into her charge, the Knight Serpenta began spinning her newfound axe in a bid to build up as powerful of a charge as she could. As she slid around Gerard, Maritza snapped her axe to a two-handed grip once more as she swung on the mage. Closing her eyes at the last possible second, the Naga braced herself for whatever came next. Magic on magic tended to be rather spectacular.

Not everything that is gone is dead.

Of course not.

Nicomede felt a brief, unwelcome stab of sympathy; not for the unlamented Damon Cal, for even the politest final words did nothing to change his mind. He had long become a monster by deed whatever he had been. His death filled the former noble with nothing but satisfaction that he would never be able to harm anyone else again, and perhaps he could regain something of the man he had been in the embrace of the goddesses. His soul was not Nicomede's concern; only that it be sent on with due haste. No, the sympathy was reserved for Damon Cal's descendants. And with it a touch of empathy, too.

He wasn't dead, but he might as well be. Dead and gone were not synonymous but too often they had the same effect. The man he had been would not return, so was there really much difference? He regarded the head in Tyaethe's hand with something approaching regret as the monster's warning turned back time for just a moment. But it passed, and his considerations vanished quickly beneath the needs of the moment. There were still enemies, still a hostage to save, and work to be done. He cleaned his sword with a flick almost contemptuously and nodded his agreement to Fleuri before following the other knight down the stairs.

"Inconsiderate of him, really." He commented over his shoulder to Tyaethe with a touch of humor, flicking his chin briefly at the once and former vampire's body. "Ducking responsibilities like that."

"Ah Makes sense I suppose..." Gill said, his shoulders slumping slightly as he tried (and failed) not to let his disappointment show. Stupid assassins and their cock blocking ways. Not that he held much hope for the night at its onset, but a man could atleast pretend to dream. "And don't go trying to flatter me. I'm not much of a Rose if you ask the other knights." He added, shooting the princess what he hoped was a cheeky grin. He leans in slightly, his voice now 'hushed' to a rather loud stage whisper. "Frankly sometimes I get the distinct impression their embarassed by me. Can't begin to imagine why."

"As for the Ignvarr....like I said. Not much experience myself, what with meeting the one family and all. The pa was a decent sort I suppose." He says, leaning back in his chair as he mulled over memories from what felt like a life time ago. "Traded some weird warming spices with my pa for local game furs...Foxes and Minks mostly. Stuff tasted something awful though," He said, sticking out his tounge at the memory. "Bunt the tastebuds right off of me for a week when Ma used it. The daughter was...bright sort. Educated I think. Taught me a bit of maths up and 'for she left...Not a fan of my flirting though." He added, chuckling as he rubbed the side of his face, nursing a phantom bruise and forgetting he was attempting NOT to tell that part of the story. "Reon's Button could that girl slap like the devil."
@VitaVitaAR

The grotesque fluid lurched forward, rusty blades flashing as it brought a foul-smelling tendril firmly downwards. The blades buried in the ground where Fanilly once stood.

What... was this? This hideous blob, smelling like rotten, fermenting meat, surging forward to try and attack her. She knew of creatures that had bodies made of slime, but this thing was no natural living being.

It lurched forward again, swinging tendrils of foul-smelling fluid and snapped and rusty metal it tried to catch her again. She couldn't reach the necromancer like this! Vosahnn's sister was so close, but she was still in the grip of that man...

In spite of his boasting he could kill her at any time, however, it was clear that the man was well aware of the repercussions of doing so. After all, if he didn't care he would have done it by now.

And yet he was still holding onto her, masked face watching carefully as Fanilly evaded the thrashing tentacles of slime. He knew that, if he were to kill her, his leverage would be gone.

"Do you know what this is?" she heard him comment, as she leaped away from another lashing liquid tendril, "I'll tell you."

He cocked his head.

"It's an undead. A liquified corpse. The dead can be frail at times, but... well..." he chuckled, "It's far harder to combat something like this, isn't it?"

That...

That sort of defacement of the dead... not only enslaving them, but converting their bodies into something like this...

Anger rose in Fanilly's heart. This couldn't be permitted. She couldn't let this continue! But how!? There didn't appear to be any vulnerabilities to the liquid undead...

"Tch...!"

Almost immediately as the axe began to swing down, the lightning mage drew back again. Moments later it became obvious why she had so quickly given up ground: The barrier she had put in place cracked, flashed, and then seemed to explode with enough force to knock a grown man off his feet, shattering like glass and scattering shards through the air that faded into nothingness.

"... Vorsik's axe, hm?" she commented, lightning crackling around her fingertips as she took another step back, "I hope his death was something he could be proud of, if nothing else."

She sighed.

"Damn that bastard," she said under her breath, eyes drifting to the necromancer for a moment before she raised one arm again, electricity surging from her shoulder to her palm as another circle of magical energy spread out ahead of her.

"Fine then. Let's do this," the mage grinned, but it seemed somehow hollow, "Let's put it to the test. The Lightning Magic of Elva Fraus against the Iron Rose Knights."

---

"My, such harsh spices... I suppose it makes sense, their lands are so cold, after all," commented the Princess as she considered Gillian's words. "We may sometimes see snow here, but I understand the lands of the Ingvarr see it almost all year round. It must be quite an experience for them, coming down to the south..."

Eliabelle considered this for a moment.

"It must be as surprising for them as it would be for us, if we were to go that far North," she concluded, nodding slightly to herself as she did.

But then...

"... Reon's... button...?"

@HereComesTheSnow@Asuras@jdh97@Animal@TheFake@Crimson Paladin@PaulHaynek@FlappyTheSpybot@Raineh Daze@ghastlyinc@Krayzikk@Heartfillia

Things down here were really getting messy, weren't they? A lightning mage, the dead Baruksteadian's magic axe, the captain, liquified corpses... if she were to try and jump in now then it would go horrifically wrong. There simply wasn't enough practice at fighting in formation or as groups in the world to make sure everyone was safe when there were that many ally-threatening risks around, magical or stemming from simply having a big sword.

It would also probably get their hostage killed, so why not do something about that first?

Not making a big point of stealth, since it would only draw more attention away from the fighting, Tyaethe walked around the edge of the chamber, eyeing the prize and waiting in her head. It seemed that the lightning mage was going to cast something any second, so if she just waited for that or Maritza to swing the axe again, then... go.

The crucial flaw the conspirators had made in splitting up was in leaving a backline magic user as the one with the hostage. If it had been the burly warrior, then Tyaethe was sure this would have been impossible to pull off just because of how she would have been held. If it was Damon Cal, then he would have seen it coming just as well as she was able to pull it off. But a necromancer with one hand busy with his concoctions? He was frankly underequipped to even hold on to the Nem hostage, let alone react in time to the vampire that had sprinted with unnatural speed into his vision.

The completely unexpected feel of plate armour stamping on your toes was also another way to make someone let go in a hurry.

Having retreated with the retrieved hostage as quickly as she moved in, Tyaethe was left with the rather unenviable proposition of undoing these bindings whilst the remaining pair was dealt with. She should really learn to create a knife or something in the same vein as her armour, it would save so much time...

They did it. They killed Damon Cal. They killed a vampire. It might not be that big of a deal to the other Iron Rose Knights but Jarde was just in a fight with a mighty vampire, and he survived! He was almost killed or turned earlier but ultimately, the Iron Roses were the victor against their vampiric foe. The undead might be more than a man but even he could not withstand the overwhelming onslaught thrown at him by three Iron Roses.

Damon's head rolled across the floor, decapitated by Sir Fleuri's downward slash which was then picked up by Lady Tyaethe. The senior paladin then said some words to the head, which then talked back. "He's still alive?!" Jarde gripped his sword in alarm. Was it not over? He looked at the body, expecting it to rise and continue the fight. What was it gonna take to kill this guy?

But no such thing happened, the bodiless Damon merely said his final words at Tyaethe before expiring. An amused smirk upon his face. The vampire said some cryptic words, and actually wished to fight the vampiric paladin. What was Tyaethe doing earlier? Jarde was pretty sure she went down with the Captain and the others. When did she get back?

However, now was not the time to ruminate. The battle was still ongoing and Jarde collected his sickles and reattached them to his chains. Once that was done, he joined the others to lower levels.

---

Now what happened here? There was a mage girl with silver hair that stood up, making her look hilarious to Jarde. There was a masked man holding a Nem hostage. Ah, that must be Tili's sister then. The other Iron Rose Knights were here too, fighting the enemies. Jarde's eyes immediately went towards his beloved Captain, who was fighting some sort of slime monster filled with bones and weapons and armor. He didn't care what that was, he quickly joined the fray on Fanilly's side.

Upong getting closer though, the blob's stench made itself apparent. Jarde winced from the sudden assault on his nose. His stomach lurched but he focused. Unfortunately, he had nothing in his arsenal that could harm this foul-smelling slime creature. Would attacking it physically work? Jarde doubted it but he knew one thing he could do.

While the creature focused on trying to catch the deft Iron Rose Captain, Jarde got behind it and caught its attention with a slash from his sickles. "I'll keep it distracted, Captain! Do whatever you need to do!" He told Fanilly. Jarde prepared himself to evade the attacks this blob thing would throw at him. Shouldn't be too hard, right?

Fleuri Jodeau

It is quite an interesting assortment of scoundrels that these conspirators have assembled. That big guy looks like a northerner, Fleuri noted as he made his way past the fallen mercenaries that his fellow knights had no doubt slain. It was to his relief that none of the knights were among the fallen. As unlikely as that would be, it was always something he worried about, especially after what happened in the fight against Jeremiah.

It was no surprise to Fleuri that there were human bones lying around, some of which appeared recently broken. If they had a vampire in their ranks, if they blackmailed a Nem to commit regicide, they certainly wouldn't be above desecrating the dead to do their dirty work. He did not see any corpse with the trappings he'd expect for a necromancer, so whoever committed this abhorrent act was probably further down. It was unclear if the other Iron Roses had killed him already, but the thundering sounds coming from further down made it clear that the fight was still going on.

It sounds like they're fighting a mage, the knight thought to himself. The prospect of fighting a mage or witch caused Fleuri to take a moment to fiddle with the crossbow, ensuring the string was drawn back. He knew the basics of operating a crossbow, but he wasn't much of a marksman, and even in the close quarters of the mausoleum interior, he'd have difficulty hitting someone with the weapons.

Due to the time he took to ensure the crossbow was in working order, Fleuri arrived at the scene of the battle after Tyaethe and Jarde. There appeared to be three foes; a white-haired woman (possibly a witch), a masked, cloaked figure whom Fleuri presumed was a necromancer, and...Fleuri wasn't sure what the last thing was. It appeared to be some sort of opaque slime creature, with metal and bones sticking out of it. Of the other knights, Gerard and Maritza were engaging the white-haired woman, Tyaethe was going after the masked foe, and Fanilly and Jarde were dealing with the slime creature. Not far from the knight-captain was the knights' Nem ally.

The Reonite knight rushed to where Tili was, wary of the slime-like being that was currently attacking the knight-captain. "I've got something for you, Tili, courtesy of the recently re-departed Damon Cal," he proclaimed, handing over the crossbow and quarrels. "Think of it as repayment for him and his friends getting your old crossbow destroyed." With his hands now freed, he closed his visor and drew his sword, ready to commit to the fight.

The witch seems to have her hands full with Gerard and Martiza. Jarde and the captain are handling the slime. That leaves the necromancer, Fleuri decided, now noticing that Tyaethe was withdrawing from him. This perplexing action on the Immortal Paladin's part made more sense when Fleuri got a better look and realized that Tyaethe had a Nem girl with her.

With the hostage freed, there's no worry about holding back, Fleuri concluded as he weaved around the reach of the slime creature and charged directly towards the masked figure, sword raised. He wasn't going to give this malefactor any chance to retaliate upon Tyaethe or the hostage. There was no war cry or taunt, just a wordless intent to kill.

By Ron, this foul necromancer will not live to defile another corpse!

@VitaVitaAR

Gerard Segremors

@VitaVitaAR@FlappyTheSpybot

The sound of shattering glass as a heavy, rune-grooved axe crashed through the invisible wall he had been so feverishly hammering beget an explosion. At the very least, it seemed akin to such— that same unseen force that impeded his strikes had cast over him like a wave, knocking him into a rough tumble that carried him clear of even The Knight Serpenta, who seemed to have pilfered the chosen tool of the Northman he'd spotted a level above.

Falling over one's back on hard stone was a painful experience in any setting, but Gerard felt it dull as he skidded to a halt a few feet further away, down to his hands and knees. Everything did, really. After the moment of sharp impact from a strike, or burst of arcana in this instance, it all faded into a numb kind of ache, half flushing heat and half echo of damage taken. Armor helped, where it was relevant. As for the rest, it must have simply been the fortune of war. It'd take a moment to clear the stars from his vision, but that was all the hindrance he suffered. Everything else, superficial.

The twin points of gold were still locked upon the mage, as she spoke in an empty tone, one that didn't match the grin upon her visage. She was breaking, then. Good. The sooner enemy morale dropped, the sooner they could finish this. Whether they took this one alive or not, this would all be over soon. Maritza's arrival surely heralded more of their number flooding in above for support. Soon, they'd overwhelm the stragglers down here by sheer virtue of more bodies to throw at the issue.

The biggest threat to large numbers of knights, footsoldiers, or any infantry (after cavalry charges, perhaps) were mages. Those long lines of lightning the cracking at her fingertips would produce needed to be dealt with now, regardless of his confidence in the thought of his fellows en masse.

He rose to his feet in a bolt leftward, opposite the direction Mari had taken in her initial swing. A simple tactic, yet undeniably effective, enough that even he could manage it in a state where the dominant force propelling him wasn't quite conscious, reasoned thought. If the opponent does their work upon straight lines in a single direction, remove yourself from them. Get out of the way—

He swung hard again as he came upon her flank, kinetic chain of legs, hips, torso, and arms in concerto as he tried to replicate the effects of Mari's magical new weapon with raw force and a sturdy crossguard. If he met barrier, fine. That would mean at least some of her attention was focused upon him, and consequently not upon the Naga. An opening she could exploit, from the other side. Harass and keep her off balance, that alone would be enough. It was a rare thing to consistently defend from two oppositional attacks at once.

—And attack from the outside angle.

Gill felt a thin trickle of sweat roll down his neck as soon as the Princesses words hit her teeth. "And the old Reynuad charm rears its head once again." He thinks, trying hard to keep the sudden onset of embarrassment from his face. A Rose wouldn't bat an eye at such language, regardless of offence being taken or not. God knows he tried baiting more than a few of his more religiously inclined fellows when times were slow with lesser things.

But Eliabelle was not a Rose, by any other name or otherwise. A more delicate vernacular was probably the norm for her. He racked his brain for a moment, trying to remeber what Parnella had taught him about courtly conduct before remembering that consisted of the distressingly short list of: 'Fuck' and 'all'.

"...Aw fuck it." He huffs, relaxing back into his chair as he opted for the method that had yet to fail him. Doubling down and just owning it. "Sorry for the language your Highness. I'm uh...not much a dab hand at that whole..." He starts, waving his hand dismissively as though to shoo away some unwanted pest. "courtly etiquette shit. As you might have seen with my little tiff with that bootlicker Velbrance." He added, bristling slightly as the memory of the slug in question re-entered his thoughts.

"Don't mean to offend by it though. Common folk tend to get jumpy when a Reliquary rocks into town." He said dully, tapping a knuckle against his shoulder. "Talking like that tends to put them...well not at ease, the superstitious fuckers, but it helps. Them thinking I'm just an ineloquent vagabond is a damn site preferable to some boogey man for the church." He added with a shrug.

It was a trick that Parnella had taught him a long time ago. Reliquaries often didn't have the benefit of looking the part when it came to being the dashing knight, even if it was occasionally true. And intimidating a bunch of helpless farm hands that you were trying to SAVE wasn't exactly helpful most times. Better them think poorly of you and alive than distrustful and dead.
@VitaVitaAR

The hideous blob's tendrils extended from its foul mass, glistening in the torchlight, blades and shards of bone embedded in it serving as its weapons. But it was simple, considerably incapable of understanding how to prioritize targets without direct manipulation by its creator. As such, the necromancer distracted, it immediately targeted the one closest to it.

That being Jarde, whose actions had caused it to twist its tentacles about and raise them up, preparing to swing them down all at once upon the knight.

"Sir Jarde, thank you!"

With that, Fanilly sprinted forward, leaping over some of the few thrashing tentacles that lingered to attempt to trip up anyone who had the same idea she had. With the liquid undead distracted, the Necromancer was wide open! They had to stop him, before he could shatter another of the vials and unleash another one of the horrible abominations against the Goddesses!

With Tyaethe's actions freeing the Nem, there was no reason to hesitate!

"Guh!" the masked Necromancer stepped back, stumbling slightly before catching himself. He'd lost the hostage...!? How... that damned vampire knight!

Tili's sister's eyes were wide, her shock at having. Her unscarred throat was bruised from how tightly it had been gripped, and it seemed as if that was not the only abuse she had suffered at the hands of the masked figure. A few fresh cuts on her hands and arms, and bruises marring her pale skin across any exposed part of her body, made that much clear. She was saying something, but it was difficult to tell what with her mouth gagged.

Tili herself stared at the crossbow she had been given for a moment.

A small smile crossed her lips, as she took one of the bolts and slipped it into place.

She took careful aim.

The moment she was upon the Necromancer, Fanilly raised her sword up in both hands and swung it down!

But it never reached him. A barrier had sprang up, a sickly green shield of magical energy, sparks flying as she attempted to penetrate it. The very same barrier prevented Fleuri's attack from reaching him, as well. It had to have been established in the few moments after he lost the hostage, and it it was strong enough to hold up to an assault like that?! Not only that, but it seemed to be made of not one, but many magical shields, arrayed in front of him...

"Fine. If that's how this shall be, then everyone in this room save myself shall perish this night!"

His free hand flew to his belt, gripping the glass vials. No! Fanilly attempted to force her way through the barrier, to find the smallest gap. They couldn't let him release another of those things...!

Elva Fraus stepped back again, a barrier flashing into existence at the precise moment that Sir Gerard pressed his assault. And with such hasty preparation, the magical energy only held enough for her to barely escape the edge of the sword.

But she was no longer looking at her opponent.

Her eyes were on the Necromancer, as he raised those glass vials...

A bolt of electricity exploded from her hand.

The necromancer had managed to construct a barrier nearly impervious to physical attack. He was preparing to unleash virtually unkillable undead. In spite of being surrounded, he was nothing but confident.

He had never suspected that Elva, an ally currently fighting her own battle, would take precious moments that could be be spent defending herself to burn a hole right through his defenses.

With a flash of light, the bolt of lightning tore cleanly through the upper portion of his barrier, shattering one of the interlocking shields near his head.

"What?!"

Had he not been distracted by the Roses, he could likely have managed to ward off the attack and deploy his undead anyway. But on the back foot, he had been unable to do so. And now his head was exposed.

"... You think that will change anything?!" he snarled, even as Fanilly prepared to thrust the tip of her blade directly into the gap that the lightning had created, "There's no way you can-"

He stopped dead. His arms dropped, hanging limply, the vials clattering to the floor without enough force to shatter.

Embedded in the right eyehole of his mask was the bolt from a crossbow.

Tili lowered her arms as the lifeless body fell.

The liquid undead that had already been released suddenly collapsed into a foul but harmless puddle, though Jarde would still be advised to move as quickly as possible to avoid a rain of blades and bone shards falling directly onto him.

Elva lowered her arms, her hair falling limply as she did.

"... I surrender."

It was all she said.

---

"Ah... I... think... I... see...?"

Eliablle spoke hesitatingly, tilting her head. To be honest, she hadn't the faintest idea just what 'Reon's button' actually meant beyond the fact it sounded quite inappropriate. Even if she had awareness of the anatomy being referenced, it was quite likely simply due to her human and near-human anatomy tutoring and thus she had never before heard it spoken of in quite such a manner. The rough language, though, that was more understandable.

"Er," she paused for a moment, realizing that virtually every attendant in the room was now staring so intensely at Sir Gillian that it seemed as if they were trying to burn a hole through his skull, "I must admit I have little awareness of the rough language used in informal situations... as you might understand, it's important to be polite when addressing nobility formally!"

@HereComesTheSnow@Asuras@jdh97@Animal@TheFake@Crimson Paladin@PaulHaynek@FlappyTheSpybot@Raineh Daze@ghastlyinc@Krayzikk@Heartfillia

"Sir Jarde, thank you!"

"No problem, Captain. Happy to help."

Jarde's was, indeed, glad to help but his reply wasn't all there. His attention solely focused on the blob monstrosity before him. He had gotten its attention, now to keep it by not dying to its slimy tendrils too quickly or preferably, not dying at all. The slime monster raised several of its tentacles, about to bring them down to crush the Iron Rose. Fortunately, Jarde was way quicker and he found the movements to be quite predictable.

A simple roll sufficed to evade the crushing attack and he recovered fast enough to react to the follow-up. The monstrosity raised its tentacles from the broken floor for another shot at Jarde. But it never came, the tendrils did come down although not as a crushing blow but as a splash of slimy goo from the collapse of the blob monster. Jarde still evaded it, if only to keep himself clean. Alas, some of the slime splashed anyway unto him but other than that, he was unharmed. "Uggghhh..."

Well, it looked like the fight was over. At the very least, the one animating the monster was stopped. Jarde wiped the slime off of him as he joined the others, standing beside Tili and seeing the masked man on the ground with a crossbow bolt on one of his eyeholes and everyone having stopped fighting. "Nice shot." He complimented the Nem. "Is it over? Is your sister safe?"

"She's safe, just give me a moment..." Tyaethe said, finally getting the last of the bindings loose and giving the nem girl a gentle push in the direction of her sister, "Though you should be asking that question before piling in to kill someone."

If she had the first clue how to heal someone, maybe she'd do something about the cuts, but it seemed more likely right now that the would-be assassin would want to check that her sister was intact than let her be dragged off to the nearest magician.

Fleuri Jodeau

It seemed that the masked necromancer was prepared for Fleuri, having summoned a magical barrier to block both his and Fanilly's attacks. Behind the conjured shields, their foe confidently announced that he'd kill everyone in the room, reaching for a vial. Fleuri had no idea what those vials did, but it was clear that they were very bad news.

Before the masked man had the chance to make good on his threat, however barrier was struck and shattered by a spell cast by his own ally, the female mage. Before Fleuri or Fanilly had the chance to strike the necromancer through the opening, a crossbow quarrel- specifically one of the bolts taken from Damon's corpse- struck their foe in the eye, killing him instantly. With the man's death, the slime-like creature dissipated into a puddle of disgusting but otherwise harmless sludge, and the female mage surrendered without any further resistance.

It seemed that the fight was over. The Nem's sister was rescued, the conspirators and their mercenaries were defeated, and the desecrated dead had been put to rest. From the look of it, none of the other knights appeared injured. It was another victory for the Iron Roses.

Fleuri had mixed feelings about the mage's abrupt surrender. On one hand, he had hoped that they'd be able to take at least one of the conspirators alive, and the woman's abrupt double-cross suggested she was amenable to cooperating if it meant avoiding execution. On the other hand, Fleuri was doubtful that the woman did this out of any moral compunction- she probably took exception to her companion's threat to kill everyone in the room and thus was simply seeking to save her own skin. Perhaps it would become clearer after they searched the place and questioned her.

"The conspirator and mercenaries on the upper level are all dead, Captain," Fleuri reported to Fanilly, opening the visor of his borrowed helmet. "What are your orders?"

@VitaVitaAR

Gerard Segremors

@VitaVitaAR@FlappyTheSpybot

Each time he swung, he was met with that stiff resistance. A flash of arcane force in thin air, suggesting the form of a barrier that never seemed present after the moment his sword had been stopped by it. He could force her back and keep her off balance as planned, but that seemed to be the extent of things— even as her eyes left him for what should have been a crucial moment, that pinprick of crimson light, harbringer of thunder, had already coalesced at her raised fingertips in the opposite hand.

She was not aiming for him, else she'd be looking his way and pointing that hand for his unprotected torso. Not at Maritza either, whom he assumed would have been her primary target. Her newly-acquired runic axe could punch straight through the barriers that he'd been flailing around trying to swat past in a single hew.

No. She was aiming past the two.

Even in this flustered state, she looked to get a shot off at the group behind?

No.

No.

He stepped in deep, wild desperation in his eyes beneath the glower of fury and iron of duty. Sword raised high into Vom Tag, it glowed crimson once more as it caught the light of the thundercrack that erupted in spite of his best efforts. His split-second read had been confirmed by the fact that neither he nor the Naga had fried, which meant that this needed to end now. He swung—

The crashing of shattered glass erupted from behind, accompanied by a death rattle and unceremonious thud of skull meeting stone.

The mage, Elva Fraus, simply lowered her arms as her grip on the arcane firmament of the world released, hair falling in suit.

"I surrender."

Remember, Segremors.

Tyaethe's words seemed to flash through his mind, cutting through the trance of combat.

This is a rescue mission.

Gerard tensed every muscle in his body, locking himself in place as the downward momentum of his cut ground to a halt just above their new prisoner's head. A credit to her composure that she so freely gave up while he was en route to beating the hell out of her, but a turncoat provoked little in the way of trust even if they came to one's own side.

He held it steady, not continuing the motion, but relaxing into a guard that kept edge and point more than close enough to discourage any sudden moves. His breathing deepened, slowed, and he pinned the magic user with a glare less outright bestial, and more wary.

"I take it your loyalties lie somewhere beyond the cause."

After all, no zealot would pull that stunt.

With the necromancer's death and the rescue of the Nem's sister, the battle was over. Letting her axe drop to her side, Maritza watched as the strange runes glowing along the edge of it's blade slowly faded back to inert metal. A small sigh passed the Naga's lips as she rolled her shoulders, wincing slightly. Though her system was still chock full of adrenaline, Mari could already begin to feel the innumerable small cuts, abrasions and bruises that now covered her body.

Taking quick stock of the situation, the Naga slid over towards Dame Tyaethe and snagged up the rope that had previously bound the Nem. "Pardon, but I've got an appropriate use for this." The Knight Serpenta said, gesturing with her head towards the surrendered mage.

Not bothering with anything else, she slid back to their newfound prisoner whom Gerard was holding at blade-point. Slipping behind the Mage, Maritza offered Segremors a silent nod as she set about tying up the Mage's hands.

-oops not ready yet