Gertrude wasn't exactly expecting bandits as far out as they were, but she wasn't expecting a giant tree-snake either. If you'd asked her which they'd be more likely to find this close to a faerie queen, however, she probably would have picked the snake. Gertrude stood, undeterred, as the barrier that Arken had put up started shattering against the serpent's mass.

Thrinax was far more intimidating than this thing, though the terrain wasn't as much to her favor.

She could fly away, but the canopy wouldn't offer a clear shot. In fact, she might hit one of the knights by accident. Bombardment was out.

Fire was out, unless she was OK with causing some serious environmental damage that might kill everyone.

Meteor Fall was right out. Kill everyone, glass the whole area, nasty business. Would not endear a faerie queen to their plight.

Well. Since the creature was made up of a lot of different plants, but moved as one, she considered it likely that somewhere within the mass was a force that governed its movement. A central connecting point that determined shape, behavior, and locomotion. If that could be disrupted, the creature could be defeated. Otherwise, the knights would mostly be swinging at individual roots and vines. Gertrude took a deep breath, and focused. If she could sense the governing point, the sword-morons could converge on it. It might take her a moment, but she assumed Arken was competent enough to protect her. While the knights spread out, she stuck behind the court mage.

Since when did she start relying on other people to get things done for her? Curious, that.

Of course things would not be as easy as Rolan would have hoped, even with the combined efforts of the present knights.

Ser Caulder had struck true, supported by both Ser Gerard and Dame Yael's efforts to create an opening past the legs, though the beast had squirmed from a true gutting to a gaping wound. The fact it wasn't immediately stitching back together was proof enough that this would work, they just had to get the source of its meal free of its guts. However, Rolan narrowly ducked out of the way of the hurtling Ser Caulder, battered back violently by the retaliatory strike of the abomination, and he slung his crossbow as he grabbed a sturdy branch that was laying about. Nowhere near the practical trunk that Ser Gerard wielded, but he didn't need a bludgeon, not that he had the strength to put it to use. The pouring darkness and aching hunger would have, just a few weeks prior, driven him to flee. Hell, he wanted to still, but he could not afford to leave his betters struggling alone. Strength and agility were all fine and well, but that alone wouldn't cast back darkness. The hunger reminded him of just how much he loathed this thing's existence. It reminded him of the failed hunt, the poor harvest, famine's gaping maw seating itself as an unwelcome guest for another winter. He wouldn't allow that darkness, that hunger to set in, not again. Never again, and he was making something just for that darkness encroaching on them all. The previous fear was giving away to anger, a tight knot in his stomach that he stoked, something to occupy his mind from that gnawing hunger.

A swift slash of his dagger tore a long stretch of his cloak cleanly asunder, binding it around the branch before dousing it in half the ingredient's of his alchemist's fire, the component that burned so greedily, some of the records he read about the substance considered it almost unnatural. Nonsense, as both student and mentor agreed, but it would do in a pinch. Grabbing a small vial of prepared fire, the kind he would affix to a crossbow bolt before loosing into a formation, he closed his eyes tight as he dumped the erupting flames out of the vial onto the makeshift torch, fortune preserve him through this. The alchemical fire burned bright and loud, a roar consuming air and shadow alike as he opened his right eye, preferring to keep his dominant aiming eye shut in case he needed to shoot in a sudden darkness. He held the torch high, aiming to banish the billowing darkness coming from the ever mounting center of this unnatural, damned hunger. He drew his sword, not able to fire and reload a crossbow while holding a torch, and advanced on the Gannek to cover for Ser Caulder while he recovered.

"Come on you ugly bastard, all that hunger and darkness and for what?! Have a look at what all of that is worth!" Rolan moved to the flank of the Gannek, shouting a challenge at the thing to get its attention, to buy Dame Yael and Ser Gerard an opening. He would just have to hope they recognized the movement as just that, an attempt to provide them an opening. If it ignored him, he would go for the wound, hell he was going for it anyways, but if it was guarding against him, it couldn't guard against Dame Yael or Ser Gerard as readily. If he was lucky Ser Caulder would recover quickly and strike while the three of them fought to open the wound fully. The torch would, fortune willing, keep the darkness at bay long enough for them to bring the damn thing down once and for all.

@VitaVitaAR@HereComesTheSnow

Gerard Segremors

@Eisenhorn@VitaVitaAR

It was eating the light.

Yael was thankfully quick to pivot after he'd barked his "orders", and the combined efforts of her and Rolan had freed up Caulder andf his mighty axe in an instant— and an instant later, the burly knight put it to good use, bringing a fell-handed cleave down through the Gannek's soft underbelly— a ghastly wound on anything that drew breath. They had the advantage, they had the pressure, they were winning. As coordinated a fighting force as could be leveled on the fly against such a foe.

Unfortunately, the magical nature of their foe meant that even rending it open like this wouldn't be enough. His stomach churned, as though ready to howl. His eyes began to strain, as the relatively thin field of view afforded by his new helm was quickly growing dark. Unnaturally dark, as though the light itself were sucked out of the air. It sought to blind them. Desperate. Hurt. Feelings he knew well, with each remembered pang of hunger it foolishly forced into his brain.

Where his light faded, his eyes, ears, and breath sharpened. Where his stomach groaned, his heart hammered, buoyed by old, familiar war drums. It had made a crucial error in this effort. One that would spell its undoing. Many men would be enfeebled, distracted, or otherwise unsettled from their fighting for by this phantom of starvation. They would believe their bodies sapped of strength, the way hunger did.

Gerard, by contrast, came from a life where these feelings came with war. He had fought to put food in his belly, day in, day out. A sufficiently starved wolf would even challenge a bear for the rights to a kill. A sufficiently starved fighting man—

In this moment, a realization alighted upon him. Barely even a thought, so much as an... understanding. That of something he was previously not fully aware, of knowledge and perspective he'd not yet needed. In the moments where their strengths checked one another, the teeth-grit deadlock between beast and man, he... had more to give. There was still yet strength that he could bring to bear, still power he could use.

The knight breathed low, golden eyes glaring out the darkness of the visor as though coins catching the firelight of Rolan's torch. Beneath his plate, fur, gambeson, cloth, his muscular frame held sturdy, coiled like a spring. His moment was close. with a light in the darkness, there would surely be a moment of primal recognition that something new was— THERE!

He remembered the broken end of the felled branch he was driving into this thing's maw as a primarily ragged thing, but all the same split wood— that first jagged, primordial point that the first men had waged war with. Not all that far from a stake. The Gannek's stomach wound was belaboring it, unable to properly close, but Rolan's bolts and the cuts made upon its limbs were still sealing quickly. Its regenerative ability was still very much alive—

So why not turn that against it? While not quite the anathema that staking the heart of a vampire was said to be, the too-hungry soldier for hire that it had dragged up, so soon after he'd begun to properly tuck him away, still wanted to know what it would make of having its' skull impaled upon this lance by any other name. Would it burn precious seconds and energy having to shove it back out the roof of its mouth? Would it simply close around the branch, like wood fibers around a nail? He'd find out. He'd find out, kill his enemy, and this damn facade of emptiness would release the vice it had his gut in. Heavens above, double wages upon them all.

He brought his sword arm to the length of old wood, bracing it on both, and drove forward with redoubled force— the instant the Gannek's beady eyes wavered, he was going to run it through. If Reon's lucky rays still pierced the unnatural gloom in some way, the timing might have even lined up with his peers truly tearing that initial wound open. An immaculate opportunity for a one-man (and technically one fae) siege engine to pulp the brain right through the base of the skull.

Wood split and cracked. Under the blow of Sir Fleur's greatsword, the downward slam of Sir Renar's poleaxe, and the thrust of Sir Fionn's blade had split wood and sent cracks running through the creature. Sir Renar, in particular, had managed to create such an impact that the entire serpent's frame seemed to rock, lurching downwards for a moment before stabilizing itself, its body twisted oddly from the wide gash that Sir Fleuri had managed to inflict.

Somewhat less fortunate was the fact that the wood beneath the bark and outer layers that had split was fresh, with green fibers running through it. This meant it would be stronger, but the damage that had been inflicted clearly indicated that it was possible to carve into the wooden monstrosity.

---However.

It was strange how little it seemed to react to the damage...

Fanilly hadn't the need to administer direct orders, for her knights had practically already read her mind. Sir Fionn's rush, Sir Renar's leap, and Sir Fleuri and Dame Tyaethe's charges did exactly what she would have asked for.

The monster was huge, and unknown, but surely it could only attack a single target at once. That meant that attacking the enormous serpent from multiple angles was their best option.

"Tch," Arken took a step back, raising his staff skywards, "It's very likely this creature is a creation of the Moonlit Queen herself. Do you hear that heartbeat?"

It was impossible to miss, echoing through the forest like that.

"There's a fae-crafted heart, deep inside its body," he continued, as the serpent seemed to ignore its current attackers, raising its enormous head and directing its green, glowing eyesockets towards Fanilly and the two mages, "Destroying that would destroy the entire construct, but we have to be able to reach it!"

Fanilly nodded, her eyes running up and down the creature as it raised its head back. Was there a thin point? Some way they could be able to access it more effectively---

Damn it, it was going to attack again!

"Dragonstar!"

The shouted spell name came from beside her, Lord Arken's staff projecting a circle of brilliant purple light that suddenly flashed red and made the air itself vibrate as its bloody glow illuminated the entire clearing. A beacon of magical energy was sent hurtling upwards, aiming directly for the tree-serpent's head.

It struck dead-on, wood splitting and cracking and breaking apart, splitting down the middle with a resounding crack!

The massive wooden serpent's upper jaw had been split entirely down the middle, its enormous, sinuous form rocking backwards for a few moments.

But of course, the heartbeat hadn't ceased.

The edges of the ragged tear in the serpent's head twisted into points, gnarled wood manifesting new rows of razor teeth, its upper jaw splitting into a pair of new mandibles as it renewed its attack.

Arken was already moving. Fanilly followed, putting an arm around Gertrude and pulling her in close immediately without even thinking, hugging her to her body and yanking her along with her as she dove to the side.

Maybe it wasn't necessary at all. Maybe Lady Gertrude would have easily escaped on her own. But the fact was that ensuring the nearest person's safely alongside herself hade been the first thing on her mind.

The enormous wooden serpent's triple-jawed head was sent slamming down, crashing to the spot they had once occupied and gouging chunks of earth up.

Fanilly shot to her feet. The damage to its head hadn't even slowed it down, a spell that produced enough power to split its upper jaw was barely even acknowledged. But it hadn't fully reformed for a reason, had it?

She wasn't the strongest. But good leverage, a strong thrust---

She could at least do enough damage for this.

Fanilly braced herself, clenching her teeth and wrapping her hands around her longsword, then stepped forward and sent the tip forward. It struck firmly, splitting the wood as it hit and burying deep, widening the initial crack she had made in the side of one of the serpent's two upper jaws.

Just as swiftly as she'd struck, she stepped back, yanking her sword from the wood---

And as she did, the edges of the crack she'd created twisted outwards into a new set of snapping jaws, briefly reaching out towards her until she stepped back out of range, as the serpent's head began to raise.

It could change its form on the fly, adapt to the damage, but it couldn't mend it---!

The same was happening across its body. The edges of the gash rent by Sir Fleur pointed and stretched, opening wide into a new maw on the serpent's side and threatening to snap at the knight.

The wood stretched upwards, winding into grasping claws to try and latch onto Sir Renar, and Sir Fionn. But the damage they had done remained, no matter how the serpent twisted its own form.

"Do as much damage as you can, it can't mend the damage!" called Fanilly, "Try and find where the heartbeat is loudest!"

If they could expose it, someone could do enough damage to end this monster---!

@Raineh Daze@Psyker Landshark@Crimson Paladin@Octo

Pinpoint its heartbeat? Hmph, that was easy, it was literally the reason they had such good hearing. Now that the construct was moving rather than quiescent—

Oh, what was this? She couldn't really point out the location, and she wasn't in a good position back here to attack what had now become amusingly double-ended, but surely one of the mages could work out how to target things if they knew… "The heart is moving!"

That just left the mouth that had transformed out of the wounds she'd inflicted down on this side. Endlessly dividing but not healing… well, if she wanted to make it easier, then, she just had to further smash it apart and reduce its mobility, right? First: armour. Second…

Well, anyone looking down to the other end of the serpent would see that Tyaethe was basically just lashing out at whatever part of it got close. Punching, kicking, actually getting enough distance to swing her sword—whatever worked. That, and focusing so much on attacking that it clear knocked her into a tree. But she seemed fine.

Fiadh had decided to be sensible for… perhaps the first time anyone might remember, dropping off and carefully hiding behind a tree. Of course, that tree hadn't been in that spot when she started; the Niyar seemed to have made it shuffle along and bend so she had a good view while still hiding.

The applause was probably for Fionn's acrobatic climb onto the snake. Or maybe she just really liked people jumping to the rescue?

The sound of tearing flesh an a metallic screech filled the forest.

The Gannek's small eyes had shifted to focus on Sir Rolan for only a moment. And it was in that moment that the force of Sir Gerard's thrust sent his improvised spear through the monster's flesh and penetrating deep into its skull. The scream it released was unnatural, just as every other sound that left its awful maw, but this time it was mixed with gurgling and spitting as black fluid spray from within.

Despite the fact that the treelimb had most certainly entered the spot the Gannek's brain would have been located, the creature's response was not that of one who had been forced to recovered from damage to its brain. It thrashed, more black fluid spilling from inside of it and a foul scent filling the air, but even considering its regenerative abilities there was little indication whatever manner of brain it had was almost certain destroyed.

But that didn't mean that Sir Gerard's gambit hadn't paid off.

Torn flesh twisted, writhing like worms, as it tried again and again to seal but could only flow around the massive improvised stake. The gluttonous abomination may not have been completely immobilized, but it was unable to mend its body with such a thick tree limb piercing through its skull.

The black fog billowing from its back had been disrupted. Little by little, cracks were peaking through the darkness once again, thin slivers of light able to reach down to the floor below in a few spots.

But the Gannek was still able to attempt retaliation.

The arms extending from its mouth, which had fallen slack for a few moments, had risen again. Bonelessly, they twisted their way around the limb in Sir Gerard's hands, wrapping around it and squeezing, both attempting to crush it or pull it from his grasp and reach for the knight.

Sir Caulder was struggling to rise quickly, having escaped serious injury but been knocked senseless when he was sent flying by the Gannek's swiping limbs. Dame Yael had attempted a swift advance, but had to cut here way through three of the Gannek's legs in order to try and reach the open wound in its belly.

Still, this was their moment, their best opportunity was now---!

@Eisenhorn@HereComesTheSnow

Gertrude let out a weird gasp as Fanilly grabbed her and dragged her out of the way of the serpent's next attack. Of course, Gertrude could have defended against it herself. Did the captain not think her capable, or was she simply given to reflexive gallantry? Well, it was unwanted and unwarranted either way.

Though the thought did invade her head, for just a moment, that assisting her actively put the captain in more danger. So either Fanilly needed her, or at least cared about her enough to take that risk. Both thoughts weren't entirely repulsive. Maybe even a little warm.

This was superseded, however, by the small panic Gertrude felt knowing that the captain would know how weirdly light she was. Was it in Fanilly's purview to determine that she was enhancing her body with magic just to work as an average woman's would? Would the captain think she was a weakling? The thought that this waif could look down on her made Gertrude sick. She grit her teeth, and stumbled away as Fanilly moved forward to strike.

Apparently Tyaethe was savvy enough to determine that the weak point was moving. Well, that confirmed Gertrude's own thoughts. Additionally, Gertrude was able to sense that it was somewhere in the upper half. Had it been her, she'd probably have kept the weak point moving along the lower end. The upper half was the most threatening part, so obviously it would receive the most attacks. If looked at that way...

It was likely that the weak point was there by necessity. Since the upper half had many more points of locomotion, and the movements were more sophisticated, it stood to reason that the governing magic might be closer to provide more immediate feedback. If one considered it like that, it was likely close enough to the mouth to be a dangerous prospect to strike, but far enough away so that it wouldn't easily be hit by a stray attack from those defending against its fangs.

"It's in the upper half," she growled. She didn't want to point out the exact spot she thought it might be, because it was moving anyways. In this situation, it was probably more useful to let everyone skewer it where they thought was reasonable rather than everyone striking at the same point. She began chanting, just in case it managed to evade the incoming strikes. A large enough spell could cover a lot of area if she could finish it.

Seeing the wretched thing looking his way, at least for a fleeting moment, was a good thing as far as Rolan was concerned. It created openings, however brief, and true enough Ser Gerard took full advantage by turning the leverage into an impromptu stake, driven upwards with a seemingly unending well of strength to call upon in the face of the Gannek, no doubt an added bonus of their time spent preparing and training. All the more reason for him to continue honing himself, and that meant putting an end to this as soon as possible. The shadow was being driven back, ever so slightly, and it was enough for him. Something he had learned was that anyone could hide in the shadows, but it took a special kind of approach to hide in the light, something he was all too keen to take advantage of. Fortunately the staking motion would create such an opening, doubly so since it seemed no other member of their band was in a position to take advantage of it and finish opening the thing up.

Dame Yael was in no position to do so despite her best efforts, several legs of the Gannek quite stubbornly getting in the way of her deft hand finishing opening the thing up. He couldn't spare a glance, but given the continued lack of Ser Caulder, the blow had likely done a far greater number to his wits than his wellbeing. Rolan couldn't expect Ser Gerard to do all the work, which meant it was his turn to draw the things blood properly. Ducking in the right, he kept the torch between the thing's eyes and his own movements, a two fold approach. One to keep the darkness out of his way, and two, to keep its eyes and senses distracted from his precise movements, and it was finally time to put this sword to good use. A heavy, upwards slash aimed to strike right where Ser Caulder left off, and finish splitting the Gannek's guts out from throat to groin, and more importantly he was looking for any sign of the Aessyr that they were supposed to be freeing from the damned thing.

"Be ready to finish this on my word!" Rolan barked a brief warning to the others, eyes already scanning and straining to spot Aessyr in the mess of black ichor and spilling shadow. As much as part of his mind loathed the idea, the part that had been quite stubbornly ignored, he was ready to drop the sword and reach inside the thing to wrench the Aessyr out if it meant putting an end to this even just a bit quicker. He might have to replace his gloves after that if it came to pass, but that was a problem for the future. Right now, he focused solely on finishing gutting the thing in one last strike, free the Aessyr, and finally putting this damned Gannek to the torch.

@HereComesTheSnow@VitaVitaAR

---

His climb had been halted, for a moment, as Arken's spell slammed into the construct's head. As soon as it had righted itself enough, however, he began pulling himself up along the giant snake again—climbing was usually slow going, but given how he'd sped himself up, he was making much better time than he otherwise might. Even as the wounds it had been taking twisted themselves outward to grasp at him, he had no trouble evading or striking back as was needed.

It was almost boring, really. Beyond the grinding noise of multiple trees rubbing against each other as the thing moved, he could hear the three further back talking between themselves and shouting orders. Upper half, at least? Not terribly creative, that was where snakes usually kept their hearts anyways—

He shook off a limb that wrapped itself around his ankle, the branch shattering with a hard kick. When the snake rolled right afterwards, however, he was left with no option but to release his hold, landing on the ground beneath it as it writhed further away to get a new angle on Fanilly and Gertrude. "Enough of this," he muttered, before squaring his stance back towards the beast, feet firmly planted in the dirt below.

Boars, bears, giant boars even, and even more monstrous creatures than those—none particularly filled Fionn with fear. He knew he would have to think to figure out the best way to take down each and every one, but for a man as divorced from the concept of terror as he was, putting himself directly in harm's way to do it was no object. Unlike a dragon, this one couldn't even breathe fire...so he felt more comfortable taking an older tactic against it.

He started chanting under his breath, raising his sword overhead. The orichalcum that Ardor had worked into the weapon began to glow in response, an intensifying nimbus of light radiating out from the blade that waxed and waned with the rhythm of his speech. Among the things that Erich had taught him in Merilia's otherworld, this was, perhaps, the most appealing to the Veltish man's sensibilities. As reliant on proper timing and sheer fortitude as anything else, and a simple enough variation on one of his other spells to teach quickly...and spectacular if it should connect.

He ceased chanting, a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead as his sword shook in his grip, vibrating from the energy stored within it. There was only one word left to release the spell, so all he needed was the target to come close enough—"Drive it back towards me!" he yelled at the four that still held to its sides. Hopefully Arken and Gertrude would catch on enough to join in.

Gerard Segremors

@Eisenhorn@VitaVitaAR

Beneath his visor, Gerard's breath came from behind bared fangs as the meaty squelch sounded from above, flecks of black blood dashed across the crest and tabard as he felt resistance give way at the other end of his impromptu boar spear. That empty head was pasted, no question, and the scream that came in the wake of his assault heralded filaments of daylight forcing their way through the gloom— almost. Almost!

Even assuming that there was barely a brain up there to have crushed, it had to know now that it was close to death. Its' thrashing was growing ever more desperate, his sharpened gaze picking up the tiny serpents of sinew trying to re-knit around the wound he'd imparted, around the weapon itself. They couldn't. Not completely. It would have to live with this... however long it had left. Like any beast knocking on the door to the next world, it lashed out with redoubled fervor— cornered at the end of the line, killing or dying. He knew that mind well.

Let's put it out of our misery, then.

As if a swirl of blackened vines blossoming forth, the shadowy arms from its split maw rushed down the length of the branch by scores, entombing the branch, trying to rip it from his grasp. Anything, to deprive the knight of that implement that he was attacking it with. Killing it with. It had to get it out of this unyielding force driving its head away from the rest of it's body—

And yet it found none of the resistance it expected, as with a wrench of the shoulder the surging knight cast the branch, finally, down into the earth, wedging the base into the soil even as the Gannek's many arms all but entombed it within their crushing grip. When they splayed out to try and find the man that had done this to them next...

"AS ONE!" he howled.

He, and his thoroughly protected passenger, were gone.

A blurring arc of steel caught both torchlight and a lone ray of Reon's Grace, brilliant against the dissipating black mists it ripped through.

"INVENTORI LUCIS! SOLI INVICTA AUGUSTO!"

And with those twinned lights well in hand, he brought his balde down onto the gluttonous, exposed neck of this beast of darkness.

The poleaxe bit deeply into wood, and Renar smiled beneath his helmet. More fragile than he'd thought. Good. The less time spent on this sideshow, the better. Arken's words carried over to where he was. A weak point, eh? Even better. All that remained was to find it, while not getting killed.

Renar backstepped along the wooden serpent's body as it rampaged, keeping a step ahead of the gnarled claws chasing him. Wide sweeps of his poleaxe eliminated his animate pursuers while the others did as much damage as they could. The instant he got a second to breathe, the Bastard of Brias stopped his retreat and braced his knees, vaulting over the wood chasing him with a forward leap, a flourish of his weapon even severing some more claws below him along the way. He landed well past where the claws had kept moving, and started to dash forward, now outright outrunning his pursuers.

A cry of exertion had Renar plunging the axe head of his polearm along the animated sentry's back, and he kept it in as he continued to charge, outright dragging the axe head along in splitting open the upper portion of its back as he ran along it. If the heart was shifting, he'd run it down enough for Fionn to eliminate it.

Fleuri Jodeau

So, this thing changes as it's damaged, Fleuri noted as he evaded the biting maw created by his blow. This would make it more difficult to attack any spot twice, and meant that this monster would get more dangerous as it sustained more wounds.

According to Fanilly, the wooden serpent was animated by a heart. Even stranger was Tyaethe's assessment- the heart was moving around inside the creature. The path forward was clear to Fleuri- they needed to tear up the exterior so that the heart would have no place to hide. Even if the creature could bite and snap from every wound, the key to killing it was taking out the heart.

Fleuri heard Fionn's request to drive the snake towards him. He wasn't sure of the man's plan, but trusted in whatever it might be. Fleuri swung at the snake's wound-maw, keeping just enough distance to strike the bark with the tip of his sword. He didn't need to maim it, just to encourage i to continue snapping and lunging towards him, and in doing so, should move the entire beast bit by bit in Fionn's direction.

Fleuri was curious to see just what Fionn had in store for this thing...

A sound something like the ringing of a bell and the scraping of steel rang out through the forest.

The darkness seemed to shatter.

The gnawing hunger lifted.

All at once, the Gannek's gut split wide open from the blow, gushing forth blackness and spraying it onto the earth. The split ran further then the blade, running the whole length of the long-bodied creature, its flesh peeling backwards as the contents of its entire body seemed to issue forth.

There were no organs, or even any sign of bones or flesh beneath its skin. Rather, nothing but shadowy bile seemed to flow from its body.

Its head had parted from its neck, spiraling into the air.

The dark feeling of the gluttonous monster's presence had faded in an instant.

The Gannek was dead.

Its body peeled back further, twisting inside-out as it did, fading from black to grey as the shape of its limbs withered and grew less distinct. It suddenly seemed weightless, carried into the air as if it were a shed feather able to be drawn along by the slightest breeze, grey now fading to white as the entire contents of its form now lay on the forest floor.

Soon, the white too, faded, the Gannek's corpse breaking apart and scattering as ash, blowing in the wind.

Its severed head landed nearby, and it too was already withering, flesh desiccating and eyes shriveling. Much like the rest of the body, it suddenly seemed empty and formless, as if it were nothing but skin. Soon, it too had faded to grey, then to white, and then come apart in the wind.

Aside from the black bile splattered across the ground, there was no other lingering sign of the Gannek's existence.

---But that wasn't all.

Within the black bile were scattered fragments of bone, creatures that had been devoured by the monster and long since dissolved into the ichor that filled its body. There were chunks of unrecognizable matter, as well, likely the remains of other unfortunate that had been consumed.

Slowly, the aessyr on Gerard's shoulder raised her small face from his fur collar.

"I-it's... i-it's all gone...! I... E-Enfys!?"

She was on her feet, now, calling out for her friend.

Dame Yael lowered her sword, scanning over the muddy mess the Gannek had left behind. With a groan, Sir Caulder had gotten to his feet, one hand placed to his helmet.

At first, it looked like there may be nothing alive remaining within the black fluid.

But then---

A tiny figure, bile clinging to her form. Her wings drooped, the flower petals composing her dress faded and in some places seeming to have already melted away.

She wasn't moving, but on a close inspection there were signs she was breathing, merely unconscious.

The Knights had beaten the monster.

---But perhaps they still weren't alone.

@Eisenhorn@HereComesTheSnow

Ser Gerard was practically deafening in his battlecry, moving deceptively fast to bring that blade around to finally rend the wretched thing's head clean from its shoulders, and Rolan would step back, narrowly avoiding the onrush of shadowed bile and ichor. The length of the cut seemed to have been more of a point of no return for the thing rather than the whole wound, watching the thing hemorrhage its insides out onto the ground. The utter lack of organs was unsettling, even as the gnawing hunger and pressing darkness vanished almost immediately. He kept his eyes on the dying, fading corpse of the Gannek as it withered away into nothing, half expecting one last desperate grasp at survival or, barring that, not going alone, but no it seemed well and truly dead, much to their collective good fortune. Glancing at the torch in his hand, it had sputtered out while the thing died, and once ensuring it wouldn't start a blaze, discarded the spent torch onto the ground. They had plenty of natural light to work with now, no need to start another improvised torch yet. He instead fetched a rag from his bag, cleaning the blade of his sword before sheathing it once more.

Scanning the guts and ichor, there was a lot of grim tidings. Bone fragments, chunks of...meat he would assume, but a first glance revealed nothing of the Aessyr. Rolan was about to comment on the matter when something caught his eye, a small figure in a pile of bile. Shoving his own distaste back, he stepped into the ichor and bile, squatting down to carefully fish the Aessyr out of the bile. Faded clothing, drooped wings, but the slight motions showed she was still breathing. Using the rag from before, he carefully began cleaning the black bile off the tiny figure. Dexterous and careful were two things Rolan could consider himself good at when it came to handling delicate things, he remembered more than his share of burns and injuries learning alchemy from being even a touch too heavy handed. Being careful now was practically second nature.

"Still breathing, fortunately for us. Hopefully once this bile is cleaned off she can begin recovering. How's your head Ser Caulder?" It was indeed a hope more than anything else that once the bile was gone she would recover naturally, or as naturally as a fae might. He was no expert on treating any of their kind, and while if needed he could likely come up with something to ease Ser Caulder's no doubt ringing head, waking the Aessyr would be another matter completely. If a simple clean and rest didn't sort matters out, they would have to ask her friend about restoring her health beyond simply being freed of the Gannek. As if calling that hunt simple did it any credit, but he would be putting the memory of the wretched thing and its hungry dark firmly in the past and out of mind if he could help it.

@VitaVitaAR@HereComesTheSnow

Gerard Segremors

@Eisenhorn@VitaVitaAR

"Sound off, people. All up?"

In the wake of the deluge of black ichor and smoke that poured out of the Gannek's dissolving corpse, Gerard's voice rang clear as his unmarred blade cut through the fog, revealing his armored frame standing tall, marching forth. The pit in his stomach, thankfully, was fading fast as the beast, and light was returning to the field once more. He eyed the severed head as it faded from a sickly gray to an ephemeral white gold searching through the empty sockets. Very dead. No mistaking things. They'd timed eachother well. On his shoulder, the feather-light force of his passenger pushing up from the pelt atop his sea green tabard peeled his eyes back to the center.

"There. Sir Rolan has her— go to them. See what help she might need." he gently urged, jerking his head in the direction of his comrades as they retrieved Enfys from the grime the Gannek had left. Caulder was coming to, Rolan cleaning their VIP, Yael there to keep an eye on the scene... Good. Nobody truly out of sorts. Keeping one ear open for the big man's reply to his and Rolan's health checks, he kept his blade drawn as he began to take a circuit around the small clearing, and tree that the fetid beast had torn through.

"Perimeter check," he called to the rest of the knights, eyes scanning the further treeline as he made the round. Given the immediate need to about-face from investigation to monster hunting, this had gone fairly cleanly— but even so, you didn't scuffle with a gluttonous demon like one of those things without making a whole lot of noise. They had doubtless pulled eyes onto themselves with the commotion— these next moments would illuminate to him whether or not they would belong to innocuous, skittish, wholly mundane woodland creatures—

Or something altogether more sinister.

"We should be ready to pull back to the Keep, especially if Enfys needs further treatment." he advised. If Caulder ended up concussed, he didn't want him out here either, to be fair. "How's she look?"

Dame Tyaethe's flying kick smashed into the great wooden serpent's flank, making its entire body rock. Sir Renar's handiwork was splitting it completely open along its back, revealing fresh green wood deeper inside forming hands attempting to pull its body together and an ethereal glow from even deeper within. For the moment, offensive had ceased, as it became clear whatever constructed intelligence the creature had possessed some sort of understanding of what the knights were doing to it.

Of course, Fanilly couldn't simply stand by. She wouldn't. If her knights were putting in the effort to tear the creature's body apart, than so would she.

"Lord Arken! You heard Sir Fionn, I'll help open it up!" she called, taking a deep breath as she leaned forward. Whatever constructed abomination may face her---

She couldn't allow herself to falter. No matter how her heart beat, she would keep stepping forward. She had to.

Fanilly lunged forward, winding up with her blade and thrusting it deep into the serpent's flank. Already, she could almost see the wood around its entry point starting to bubble, almost rolling and stretching outwards.

Pouring as much strength into her limbs as she could, practically setting the muscles in her arm aflame, the knight-captain dragged the blade sideways. Sir Renar was using such a tactic to great affect, and so she'd split it from the other side.

Together, they'd open up the wooden serpent and create a direct path to its heart!

Arken raised his staff, chanting under his breath for a moment.

"Astral Lance!"

The bolt of magical energy exploded from a magic circle at the head of his staff, searing its way through the air as it hurtled towards the monster's upper body and took out a thin chunk of wood. It wasn't the most damaging spell against such a creature, but at the same time the impact sent it rocking sideways towards Sir Fionn. By now, much of its upper body had come apart, showing green light much like its eyes from within.

And then it ceased to move.

Fanilly paused, yanking her blade from the wood. It had just stopped---?

But why?

With a loud grinding, the noise created by bark grating against bark, the wooden serpent's damaged upper body suddenly raised, the light in its eyes building.

Lady Gertrude and Dame Tyaethe in particular might be able to tell that the heart had suddenly plummeted into its lower body, despite mostly moving around the upper prior.

Lord Arken narrowed his eyes.

There was a build up mana, surging up from the wooden serpent's insides.

And then its entire upper body split apart, tearing open not only along the seams that had been rent through its frame but splitting elsewhere, almost like the blossom of an immense flower, the green light from within building up more and more brightly---

And then spewing into the air as several dozen spheres of emerald light, arcing before they began to descend.

The knight-captain did not need some kind of expertise in magic to understand what this was, immediately springing back and away from the enormous wooden construct the moment the orbs began to hurtle downwards. She could almost feel the air thrumming around her, on her skin, even through her armor.

They'd done so much damage, but it wasn't quite enough to stop its attack. Still, they had to press on---!

Fanilly's shouted order for those in the radius of the ranged attack to move was hardly necessary, for it was clear being struck directly would spell disaster.

While the creature's tactics had changed, there was still plenty of damage done all across its wooden form. The heart had moved downwards, but perhaps it would still be possible to strike it.

@Raineh Daze@Psyker Landshark@Crimson Paladin@Octo@The Otter

Tyaethe regarded the falling bolts with a sort of casual indifference, moving despite the armour almost too late to dodge it… but nonetheless now advancing steadily towards the snake's rear rather than just smashing parts off of it as the bolts slammed into the ground beside the vampire. It had sent its heart down here for protection, had it? To keep it away from anyone else? Well, she just had to force this snake to keep it nice and vulnerable. If it was that intelligent, there was no way it was coming down her end until there was nowhere else it could possibly be.

The paladin jumped forwards, slamming on what had probably been a tail at some point but was now a snapping mass of mouths too fractured and divided to easily penetrate her armour. Of course, she wasn't heavy enough to hold it in place, but if she just took her sword and stabbed it right through—

Well, it would probably reform from being staked soon, especially with how much she'd had to pulp to get it right into the ground, but it only needed to stay still and keep its heart further up for a tiny bit longer.

---

Fionn, at least, was absolved of the burden of needing to dodge the rain of magical attacks. Although Fiadh was quite safe from her viewing spot behind, the niyar let out an audible gasp of shock and started trying to help. For once, the help was even actively useful, a woven canopy of roots springing out of the ground and covering the merc on three sides…

As long as he didn't need to go back. Or didn't get charged. It was probably fine.

@VitaVitaAR@The Otter

---

"Make sure, if you use this, you're ready to take whatever comes your way. You certainly won't be avoiding it."

"Eh? Why's that?"

"When you're pulling that much of your mana, focusing as hard as you will be to keep it from flying out of control...you might find it hard to get your legs to move."

As he was bathed in the green glow of the snake-construct's attack, Fionn couldn't help but think back to when Erich Cazt had taught him the spell he now held. The man was right, of course—a legendary demon-slaying knight was bound to know exactly what he was talking about when it came to such things. If he struggled to get himself moving when he was relying on this spell, there was no chance that his centuries-removed protégé would have an easier time of it.

It wasn't such an issue if he had to take another few steps forward to ensure he connected; as much as he'd been expecting the beast to keep charging at him, he'd been prepared for it to stop in place. Evading other attacks, however, was a different matter entirely.

This was no strike from the head that he'd be able to just cleave through. This was something he had no effective counter for, even after all he'd been taught. He couldn't run without entirely releasing the spell something he didn't wish to do; he couldn't block it all, even if he hadn't been so committed. The only option seemed to be stepping into it and seeing if he could still get his own strike off quickly enough, or force through whatever damage one of those orbs may do.

Well, captain, I hope one of the ones we've got is good at healing.

He strained, heaving with all his well to force his left foot forward. His right next, left again, inexorably onward into the path of fire at a pace barely more than a walk. "Ēnsis—" he growled, his grip tightening against the hilt. Some of the orbs the snake had launched came closer, the air itself almost seeming to distort around them, a fundamental element of the world around them shaking apart from the barely-contained energies of the fairy watchdog's attack. He grit his teeth, stepping forward once more, shutting his mind against the pain he knew he'd have to push beyond...

And the earth split around him, roots shooting up to arch over and around him. No few of them instantly blackened and crumbled away, intercepting the spell he'd been prepared to suffer. The ground shook as the energy dumped into the makeshift shield drained away into the forest floor below, sending painful shocks up through his feet.

Thanks to Fiadh's intervention, only painful. Leaving him free to visit something altogether more debilitating upon the target of his ire.

"Secā!"

The final part of the command came out as barely more than a grunt, easily drowned out by the sudden shockwave as he swung downwards, carried forward with a final step where he quickly collapsed down to his knee. The hazy nimbus that had grown around his blade followed it down, flying forward as a suddenly solid arc of emerald light. The arch of roots that Fiadh had formed over him split apart without resistance as the arc flew straight for the snake, aimed to split it and its heart right down the middle.

Gertrude continued chanting. Fionn obviously had an idea, but she didn't have enough faith in the lout to leave the serpent to him. Renar and Fanilly worked their way down the beast, no doubt attempting to flush out the weak point. It was a good idea, and one she probably would have vocalized if she wasn't afraid that the serpent would be intelligent enough to understand her and act against it. The knights were at least smart enough to do this much, though she supposed she'd expected as much from the scoundrel. If nothing else, he seemed a wily sort.

The serpent split open like some foul flower and began spitting magic into the air like blood. One last attack. Or, if they were unlucky, a penultimate one. Gertrude clutched her broom tight, and it ripped her backward, out of the way of the descending green orbs. Her broom was faster than she was, and reached top speed quickly. It was one of many reasons she wasn't too worried about most combats that took place outside.

That attack would be the creature's downfall. Almost everyone had cleared the area, which meant a chanted Dragonstar was in little danger of hitting her allies. Tyaethe had staked the thing to the ground, and that combined with Renar and Fanilly's swift work meant the weak point had very few places it could be. Right as she was about to fire, she noticed Fionn stumbling towards the beast, protected by the Niyar.

Dumb shite. If Fiadh hadn't been there, the stupid lout might have died. Before he even unleashed his attack! It made Gertrude mad that someone as dumb as him was still alive. It would teach him a hell of a lesson if she were to unleash her Dragonstar at full force into the melee, blow both annoyances away at once.

But Fionn might still learn a lesson. If that thing made one last lunge as he attacked, he'd be completely open and absolutely exhausted. That would teach him...

"Scheiße," Gertrude hissed, quickly making a few modifications to the spell. By decreasing the area of effect, she wouldn't be hitting the weak point, but she wouldn't be hitting Fionn either. Not that she was aiming for the rear, where the core now resided. Instead, she aimed to blast away the midsection where it had already taken some damage. By destroying that area, she could cut off control of the many-petaled head at a single point and ensure the dumb bastard didn't get eight kinds of skewered.

"Dragonstar," Gertrude called out as Fionn called his own attack.

She hated that bastard.

"It's been better, but I'm fine," Sir Caulder gave a metallic grunt, one hand to the back of his head. Indeed, he seemed to have righted himself well enough, and didn't appear to be struggling with standing. While his heavy visor made it hard to tell where he was looking, he was definitely facing towards the unconscious aessyr in Sir Rolan's grasp.

Dame Yael let out a sigh of relief, and stepped away to help check their surroundings as quickly as possible.

The awake Aessyr didn't need to be told any more. With the hum of her wings she swiftly left Sir Gerard's shoulder, fluttering towards the prone, tiny figure in Sir Rolan's hands.

Her sings fluttering, she hovered just above the other girl, reaching out towards her.

"Enfys! E-Enfys!"

For a few moments, the unconscious aessyr didn't appear to hear her. Perhaps her condition truly was that severe, due to being trapped inside the Gannek's body.

But then---

A tiny, faint noise, barely audible to the Sir Rolan, came from the prone figure.

"Nnng..."

Enfys slowly opened her eyes. With all the grime still clicking to her body, it made her bright blue irises stand out all the more intensely.

"Enfys---!"

The first aessyr's hands clutched at her chest, tears appearing in the corners of her eyes.

"... I stink..."

Those were the first words out of Enfys's mouth as she stirred slightly, a few faded petals falling from her dress. Without another moment wasted, the first aessyr wrapped her arms around her friend and hugged her tightly.

"... Ah... Aithne, you'll stink now too..."

The first aessyr, Aithne, did not appear to think this was a reason to let go. Despite her tiny size, her sobbing was quite clearly audible, now, as she simply held Enfys closer.

"Sir Gerard is right," Dame Yael commented as she approached the nearby foliage to check for any unwanted observers, "It'd be best if we returned swi---"

She was cut off with a gasp of shock as the figure silently stepped from the trees.

He had appeared entirely silently. He had been completely invisible just moments prior.

The figure was tall. Incredibly so, perhaps nearing nine feet. His skin was blue-grey, with darker interweaving patterns running down his shoulders, back, and chest. He wore little clothing, save for a fur hanging from his waits to preserve his modesty, exposing his toned arms, chest, and waist.

His hair was wild, dark, and hung past his waist, framing a slender-featured face with a sharpness that could be described as both handsome and beautiful, his eyes a luminescent green. But his least human features were most certainly the sharp, many-pointed antlers extending from his forehead.

There was no denying the man was fae.

From his shoulder hung a quiver full of black arrows, and in his left hand he clutched a great bow.

"... Children of men," he began, his voice firm and seeming to fill the forest, his eyes cast over the assembled knights, then fell upon the black stain that was all that remained of the Gannek.

He inclined his head slightly towards the knights.

"You have slain the creature I hunted," he continued, "But I do not begrudge your success. It devoured life and sought to feed upon my kin. For this, I thank you, children of men."

@HereComesTheSnow@Eisenhorn