Darog the Badger God

Guess the next user's kink.

Bukkake.

Spirit Hunters ( Darog x Foxxie)

"This is the Rain-Slick Gambit Number One: Industrial Coffin!"

Hattori stood blankly as the sprinklers sprung to life, drowning the sludgy tar slime covering the berserker. "I...I'm not going to question the name, just going to roll with it" Hattori muttered, as he looked on, observing the creature. It twitched and convulsed more wildly this time as if the water was burning it, steam rising from it's body. Hattori listened carefully to the plan from his partner; get a forklift and proceed a warehouse style avalanche of boxes upon the berserker to trap it. Hattori nodded to Yunnosuke.

The Berserker itself could feel the burn, especially after the kick from Yunnosuke that exposed its belly. He quickly moved back to an upright stance, taking a box directly in the face. The creature gave out a blood curdling roar, flailing and sprinting towards the delinquent with rage and pain filling its ever pore.

Hattori had managed to find A Forklift not far from the center. He looked around for keys but to no avail none could be found. Taking off the front panel, Hattori began to hotwire the operative machine towards a stacked pile of boxes. As the forklift smashed into them, the boxes began to topple quickly, bringing down more of the stacks than Hattori first initially thought. Hattori smirked and soon moved back around the center to meek Yunnosuke.

The creature had leapt mid air at the young hunter, too late in claiming him for his next meal he was piled upon by box after box, the piles narrowly missing Yunnosuke. "Hey, Yunnosuke? You okay?" Hattori asked, seeing his partner and the berserker trapped underneath the toppled pile. "Glad it missed you, huh?" He stated, placing both hands in his pockets as he marched towards the frog like berserker. "A D-class Berserker with regenerative healing capabilities and a thick slimey coating to boot. I guarantee the slime was helping it heal." He explained as he knelt beside, watching the steam slowly dissipate as the sprinkler system began to wane. "It hates water. Seems to wash away the slime and burn it's skin. We should have a better chance at it now though." Hattori smirked, his left hand changing to a rather crude looking sickle, and his right holding an orb of red flame.

Hero's Legacy (Darog and Grif of Hearts)

"We're closing in. We should be there soon," Richie said, speaking into the tiny communicator embedded into the inside of his helmet.

"Goddamn it. And I was starting to enjoy riding around in this speeder! Sorry, I mean hover bike... or whatever Zakarr called it." Skull-Man's voice echoed over the speaker, just above the loud whir of powerful engines that held his vehicle aloft. His scarf caught the wind, billowing behind him as he raced across the empty sky, his eyes fixated on the skyline ahead of them.

The tip of the spire could be seen off in the distance just over the sickly grey, dusty horizon. The towering, gunmetal structure rose high up into the silver sky, a bright, pulsating blue light firing upwards from it and piercing the clouds above. The glistening light seemed to hum rhythmically, flashing brightly every few seconds before settling down. It was a remarkable structure of enormous size, and seemed to have been forced into the ground like some kind of enormous spear rather than constructed in its place, made evident by the huge cracks in the earth around its base, the chasms seemingly going down for miles.

"How're you doing back there?" Richie asked, turning his head over his shoulder.

He could see the tiniest spec of Skull-Man off in the distance, riding on his land speeder that Zakarr had donated to them (although Richie was not entirely sure that Zakarr was even aware Skull-Man had taken it). It looked like an oversized motorbike with the wheels torn off and it struggled to keep up with Richie's own glider, but it was an impressive design none the less.

Richie was moving at an incredible speed, about a hundred feet off of the ground atop his glider, which he piloted effortlessly. For him this was as thoughtless as breathing. The speed he was managing to maintain was impressive though even for his own designs, thanks to the improvements he had made aboard Zakarr's ship. Some of the technology he had incorporated into it was beyond even his knowledge, but the ship's crew had been eager to help. Even he did not know the limits of his glider now, and to make sure Skull-Man to keep up he had yet to find the opportunity to test it, although he anticipated that he might get the chance soon.

Skull-Man was enjoying the relatively relaxing trip, his own thoughts were enough to entertain him over the roar of the engines. "Doing just fiiine," he chimed.

He looked down to his suit as he piloted the bike. The usual reds and blacks of his simple costume had been replaced with deep greys and glistening blue lights. Fine, advanced technology lined his suit, protecting his body and enhancing his senses... every sight and sound set his mind on fire. He tugged gently at the costume, finding it uncomfortable beyond belief.

"This new outfit is sooo comfy," he continued, sarcasm ringing from his voice. "It's like I'm wearing nothing at all... nothing at all... nothing at-"

"Please stop," Richie interupted, immediately dropping speed so that Skull-Man could catch up to him.

The two of them looked up to the large spire as it drew closer. It had been a long time since he'd infiltrate a place, Skull-Man thought. It was usually more fun to just use the front door. But he remembered the basics, and he was sure that together the two of them could get themselves out of any kind of sticky situation. "How do you think the others are holding up? I mean, I know that Mr "ET-if-he-worked-out" is going to be fine, especially since he has Bruce Lee ninja and lil' missy fire starter with him. Natasha? I know she can handle this kind of stuff without breaking a sweat, but that Walter guy, I know nothing of him! Can't even think of a good nickname too!" Skull-Man rambled, the spire getting closer and closer in view.

"He seems competant enough," Richie replied. "Unusual that he managed to slip past my rader though, but that counts for something; he must be good at keeping low. I'll have to talk with him proper once this is all ove-"

It was then a stray beam almost struck Skull-Man from afar. The beam cut through the air, a single straight beam of blue energy that appeared for the briefest moment then vanished again. It missed, carving a hole through the ground beneath them almost effortlessly. Skull-Man had narrowly ducked out of it, swerving out of the way just in time, as a second beam flew past and struck the side of his speeder. It tore away a piece of metal attached to the side; a superficial wound, but it made the two no less comfortable

"Hey Herc! We've got company!" Skull-Man shouted towards his partner, as he revved the engines and picked up speed. He turned and strafed away from his partner, keeping a distance between the two and giving them each plenty of room to move. "Got a location?"

Richie's eyes, assisted by the glistening blue goggles he wore that homed in and magnified the image, were already locked on their target. "Over there, on the spire. About half way up. Marking it on your ma-"

Another shot flew past, narrowly missing Richie by barely an inch. "Marking it on your map. C'mon, let's go!"

He saw, resting on a small ledge on the spire, a singular figure. It was difficult to make them out this far away, but from their shape he could see an enormous rifle, and unusual technology that was clearly alien. Richie was too concerned with the rifle fire to focus on it properly, and he tucked himself in close to his glider, gripped the front edge, and turned into a tight roll, picking up enormous speed as he did so.

"I'm going to get in close and stop them from firing. Keep an eye out for any more snipers!"

"You got it, captain!" Skull-Man replied with his best impression of a stereotypical soldier.

He turned tightly and moved away from Ritchie, hoping to draw his attention away from his partner and give him an opportunity to get in close. The laser shots continued to fire on spot despitee Skull-Man's swift, erratic movements, striking either through dumb luck or perfectly skill beyond what any human could accomplish. He looked up to get a better look at the spire, watching as it came closer and closer. The shots continued in a fierce barrage, one after another, and while Skull-Man was nimble, it was not long until one hit him off the speeder. He tumbled around like rag doll, thrown from his perch and falling at incredible speak, his arms and legs loose and flopping as he dropped.

"This is gonna hu-"

Richie saw the eruption of dust and stone as his companion fell. For a moment he felt sickened, but only from imagining the state his body would be in for a little while. All broken bones and torn muscle. He had no fear of Skull-Man's safety; he could not die after all. Instead he honed in on the sniper, getting in closer and closer at break-neck speed... As his glider skimmed the outer surface of the tower, twisting his entire body to ride sideways across it, Richie leapt from his vehicle and thrust his leg outwards, planting a single mighty kick in the sniper's jaw. Another figure pulled itself out from the building to assist, only to be struck by the glider which flew on ahead of them all, dragging the figure out and knocking him off of the tower. Richie landed like a spider on the sniper's perch, low to the ground and very stable, before slowly rising into a standing position, arms raised to protect himself.

The sniper took the hit with surprising grace, stumbling but not falling, and in the time it took Richie to recompose himself the being had put away his rather large rifle and stood to oppose the human before him. He spoke over a communicator in a language that took a moment for Richie's to process. "- - - take him out. I will deal with this one," his voice carrying an insect-like click to every word.

As he spoke a dozen figures errupted from the spire like a swarm of insects. They were indeed insectoid in appearance, and leapt from the spire to descend, gliding through the sky with tiny jets mounted to the back of their gear much like a jetpack.

Richie smiled, invisible through his mask. He knew Skull-Man could take them... but he tapped his forearm, running fingers across tiny, invisible buttons, and his glider suddenly changed course. It turned, smacking into several of the gliding insects that had their sights set on Skull-Man, using it like a missile to crash into them and knock them off course. At least one lost complete control, careening into the ground at such force that there was nothing left when he impacted.

"So, just you and me?" Richie asked, as he stepped forward and threw a single, swift punch.

The insect figure ducked with surprising agility under his swing and quickly moved in closer to Richie, throwing a leg sweep that Richie managed to avoid with a single jump. "Yes, Lord Malus will be pleased to finally have Zakarr's head, and I'm sure he wouldn't mind if I brought yours to him as well!" he replied, his tone twisted and sadistic.

"So what do I call you?" Richie replied, unleashing a flurry of punches with each of his four arms, slamming into the creature's chest with force that surprised the entity. "I'm Hercules. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Call me Miasma" he moved forward with speed and ferocity as he threw another punch, blocked easily by Hercules, but enough to force Richie back several feet with the sheer force of the punch. Miasma's movements were sharp, sudden, and robotic, more like those those of an insect than a puppet. Miasma stepped backwards, his arm jerking outwards and his claw-like fingers latching onto a metal spear-like object that rested on his back. He wrenched it free and the staff lit up with glistening energy, sickening sharp blades emerging from both sides, searing the very air around them.

Although Miasma's stance was immediately aggressive, Richie almost seemed to relax hearing his name. "Can't say I've heard the name, but you're not the first of Malus' soldiers I've knocked off their high horse and I can guarantee you that you won't be the last". He cracked all four of his knuckles as if toying with his opponent.

Miasma charged at the mocking display, thrusting the voulge at Richie's abdoment and then swiping upwards, hoping to cleave him in two, but Hercules brought an arm down and struck the side of the polearm, knocking it away and then slamming his foot into Miasma's chest, knocking him backwards. "Humans are... surprisingly agile..." Miasma hissed.

"I'll take that as a compliment."

Miasma's eyes carefully examined Hercules even as he moved to his left at speed. "You can take that one to the grave" he hissed, coming in for another thrust with his blade. Hercules sidestepped, grabbing hold of the shaft and pulling it back in an attempt to throw Miasma off, but the insectoid threw a swift and powerful forward kick that landed square in Richie's chest and he was thrown back, dropped to the ground and tumbling back to the edge of the platform. His armoured fingers clutched onto a metal ridge along the ground, slowing himself just enough to not fall off of the edge entirely. Miasma strode forward, blade aimed at Richie's neck before swinging it around, smashing the flat end into Richie's face. His helmet was knocked aside, tumbling to the ground, and a clear bruise began to form across the side of his face. Richie fell backwards again, his legs slipping off the side and his hands immediately grasping out for something to hold onto.

"You aren't going to to get to the generator as easy as you might of thought," Miasma mocked, his voice still tinged with a strange, insect-like hiss.

Miasma inspected the face of the strange, mutant human that clung for his dear life, and was surprised to find no evidence of fear or worry. "What are you smiling at, human?" he asked, his chitinous face twisting into what one could only assume was confusion.

"Just wondering if any of your species can fly." He sneered, brought both of his legs up to the base of the platform, and he pushed off he let go, throwing himself away from the ledge and into the sudden descent.

Down on the ground, Skull-Man's body was slowly reconstructing itself. The damage would be irrepairable if he were any other human, but for him it was just another Tuesday. Bones slowly popped back into place and skin stiched itself back together. His neck, twisted around at a full one-eighty degrees, a position that would've killed a man instantly, slowly raveled back into place. All the while Skull-Man pulled himself back up, ignoring the pain as he put weight on broken limbs that slowly repaired themselves. He looked around, his vision slowly starting to come back, to see the ruined remains of his speeder.

"Damni-"

He barely had time to continue as a spear of plasma flew through the air, striking his shoulder, and throwing him onto his back.

Skull-Man dusted himself off, grateful that the new suit was barely scratched even from the immense blow, if only because it was easier to heal a bruise than it was a missing limb. "Well that was a tumble and a half," he groaned, stumbling back up onto his feet."Time to help ole' Herc on pest control it seems. Not bad for a warm up for an exterminator of pests such as myself. Could use a big can of bug spray though," he continued to muse.

The insectoid creatures that swarmed around him showed no signs of intelligence like Miasma did, acting more like feral wild beasts seeking the nearest target. He would not have been surprised if Miasma was the one in control of these creatures, mindless slaves no better than mere machines. One of them lunged at Skull-Man but with a side step he was behind the clumsy creature. He grabbed it by the neck and twisted his body sharply, it's entire head twisting with him and with a sickening crack its whole body went limp.

His hand fished for his side and wrenched free a pistol, and he fired twice into the chest of another and fired the third at its head, and it fell to the floor. He dropped the one he clutched tightly and it fell to the floor all the same. The others looked on, desperate to find any sign of weakness or hesitation in Skull-Man's actions, their expressions seemingly unchanged even as they saw their companions die.

"Well then," Skull-Man muttered. "I guess I can go a little rougher with you guys. If you guys don't feel pain, fear, or worry, then I can tear you all to pieces!"

The nearest insectoid lunged just as the previous one did, but Skull-Man rolled into its lunch and brought his knee up sharply straight into its head, the bone-like carapace crunching from blow. The limp body fell, and as another came running forwards he casually placed the barrel of his pistol against the underside of its jaw and fired, it too falling limp and a mess of thick, greenish blood splattering against the side of Skull-Man's mask. "That's four down already, and I see eight of you left. Let's see if the rest of you can put up a better fight!" Skull Man breathed out, preparing himself to analyse the situation, his focus concentrated upon the eight insectoids ready to tear him apart.

As two leaped towards him in unison, Skull-Man rolled back away from the two of them and out of the way, pulling his second pistol from his belt and bringing both up to take aim and pulling the trigger. The bullets pierced their chitin skulls, and they both dropped an instant. Skull-Man pushed off from the ground and quickly sprinted towards the other, jumping up on its shoulder. Skull's Leg's wrapped tightly around its neck as he forced his body down, flipping the insectoid onto its back. Skull-Man landed on his feet, quickly standing and bringing a foot down hard, stomping its head against the stone floor in the process with a sickening crack. Turning around, three more of them approached the Skull-Man with more caution than the previous two. Skull-Man simply cracked his neck and sprint forward, giving them no time to react to his flurries of punches that struck the insectoid to the left's chest and abdomen with bone-crunching force that surprise even Skull-Man. Skull followed with a point blank duo of headshots, firing two more headshots into the unsuspecting two that moved forward and were only an arms reach away. "Only two left? Got a little carried away." Skull-Man mocked, raising both guns to fire.

Up above, Richie's glider took a sharp, sudden turn, and Miasma barely caught the high whistle as it cut through the air until it struck him straight in the back. His armour was tough, alien alloys further buffered by his own hardened carapace, but it left a thick crack through the back, and hit with enough force to toss him over the edge entirely. He watched as the glider circled around and was caught by Richie, who swiftly found his balance atop the board and steadied himself, shifting to ride alongside Miasma who continued in freefall.

"I'm full of tricks," Richie called out, as he took a hard right, bringing back a fist which collided with Miasma's jaw.

Miasma took the hit, crashing into the side of the building and spirally out of control, his body tumbling and crashing into another ledge, only to tear straight through it and continue downwards. He vanished in the inner mechanisms of the machine, but Richie tracked his fall and kept a steady speed as he continued downwards.

The insectoid wrenched himself out at a right angle, crashing through the sheer metal wall of the machine at hurling himself at Richie. In the briefest moments he had before he was thrown out of control himself he saw Miasma, a garland of glass like, insect wings manifested from his back, and the thrusters equipped to the legs and arms of his armour humming to life, turning his primitive, biological method of flight into a truly agile mode of transportation to rival even Richie's glider.

Miasma's clawed second pair of hands hooked in Richie's armour and held him in place as he let out an earsplitting screech, his legs positioned on the edge of the glider and putting far too much weight on one side for Richie to keep control. He tried his best to maintain it, but trying to fend off the barrage of punches and attempted lacerations from Miasma while keeping control in flight was almost impossible. Richie's lower hands moved to wrench Miasma's hands from his armour, while the heftier, stronger upper pair through punch after punch, exchanging them with Miamsa as they brawled in freefall.

Richie had no choice as they came in far too close to the ground. He took a mighty punch to the stomach almost enough to make him sick, but brought his hand down to the nose of the glider and wrenched it upwards, narrowly avoiding crashing straight into the ground and skimming the surface of the dusty land.

The noise of the air tearing apart at the sheer speed of the glider was something Skull-Man heard before he saw it, albeit just for a second, before the careening glider crashed into the last two monstrous insects that faced him, before blinking out of sight before he could even respond, and spiralling upwards into the sky.

Richie and Miasma wrestled for control, trading blows punch for punch, neither seeming to get the upper hand. They went higher and higher at an incredible speed, blinking in and out of Skull-Man's view as the rushed to the ground for just a moment before shooting off again. Miasma threw a punch which Richie caught, and he twisted his right hand as he threw another punch. The knuckles of his glove crackled with energy as blue electricity danced across it, and he forced his clenched fist into the stomach of Miasma and held it there, until lashes of white electricty crackled across the insect's limbs. His body shook and shuddered, and Richie grabbed the stunned insect with all four hands and hefted him off of the glider, letting his limb body fall.

Miasma released an ear shattering, insect-like screech as feeling returned to his body, and the sickening sensations of falling consumed him. His wings extended again, his thrusters whirring into action, and passing a brief glance back to Richie who caught his breath, Miasma only increased the speed of his fall, aimed directly for Skull-Man.

"Close call, Richie, you almost did a splat!" Skull-Man called out as he failed to notice the insect flying towards him until the alien himself spoke.

"You humans are no match for me!" Miasma howled as he lashed out with his claws, eager to grab and tear into Skull-Man.

Despite his incredible speed, Miasma only clutched at air, until he felt a sudden, heavy metal boot crash into the side of his skull, and Miasma's limp body crashed into the ground. It twitched for a moment, wings still vibrating, but he lay completely still. Not dead, as Skull-Man would find by a brief check over the alien's body, but knocked out completely cold.

Richie, atop his glider, would hover alongside soon after. "Nice job, Skull."

Skull-Man cheered as he looked about the wasteland, the remaining soldiers either dead or unconscious. "You have a neat glider? I have tricks that are super sick!" he chimed. He motioned towards Miasma "All this guy has is an ugly face."

As Richie came down to land, the magnet locks on his glider disengaging allowing him to hop down to touch solid ground, Skull pryed away the thrusters from Miasma's back and legs and placed them upon his back and own legs respectively, his suit seemingly adjusting itself to the newly acquired tech. "Ooooh, how I'm going to love this! But first, we got a Generator to un-fix" he said to Richie, as he clicked his heels to try and activate the thrusters.

They worked, much to Richie's amazement, as Skull-Man hovered briefly in the air, before he lost balance and crashed into the ground, mangling his right arm and snapping his right leg in two. He kicked up a cloud of dust, his wrecked body lying there until the thrusters disengaged. One crackled, smoked, and almost exploded. If it were anyone else Richie may have been in shock, but he had seen Skull-Man rebuild himself from worse, so only looked on in amusement.

"You okay, Skull?" Richie asked, reaching out a hand to help him up.

"Just..." The man groaned, limply reaching for Richie's hand before he gave up entirely. "Just give me a minute."

Fire Emblem: Nemesis

Grammy Foxxie, I will join O_O

CS PLACE HOLDER

Spirit Hunters ( Darog x Foxxie)

"am I good at catching frogs? of course! spending most of my time at my family's countryside residence, was probably the most fun I had." Hattori responded in kind. The large, frog like Berserker was already showing itself to be a rather troublesome creature. He watched it it move, carefully observing the creature for any weaknesses, weak spots or openings, but sighing at Yunnosuke's sloppy dodge. He noticed it's erratic movements and jerking twitches, something seemed off about this beast to him. as Yunnosuke asked him to keep the beast busy, Hattori gave him a thumbs up and started to move towards the Berserker. "Hey! big, slimey and ugly! You want to fight right? Well let me show you just how I deal with insects like you" Hattori stated, arrogance mixing with his already confident demeanor. The Berserker took notice of Hattori and carefully watched him move in. Hattori smiled, both his palms erupted into red flames. "Orochi Flame burst!" pushing both palms forward, Hattori generated a blast of red fiery flames at the creature. By surprise, the creature narrowly moved out of the way, one it's arms getting caught in the fire as it was burnt to cinders. Hattori smiled as he then moved in, the Creature in a panicked frenzy started to flail wildly. Effortlessly, Hattori dodged each swipe from the claw, tail and kick. His right arm changed into a crude, scythe like blade. "Muramasa Blood Gift: Shinigami Slice!" He stated once again before quickly shooting forward from mid air, slicing off the other arm of the Berserker. Hattori smiled. "This thing is a walk in the park."

Hattori turned around. "Looks like you've got no one to, give you a hand I see" Hattori mocked the armless monster. However, the Berserker grinned, it's shoulders twitching rapidly and very erratically until it produced newly regenerated arms. Hattori stood there, not sure what to say. "Well...okay...shit..."

Sacred Arms: a Tale of Heroes

Just an update: I'm going to postpone the next for one more week. I've noticed there has not been much activity in the OOC, which is severely disappointing, also add on to the fact that a number of people have not even posted anything since they finished their characters.

One more week for the post, final postpone on my end, and then I will look at the active list of players and non-active and see if this can be salvaged and able to continue.

Sacred Arms: a Tale of Heroes

Just a reminder that the next post is going to be posted this week! there's going to be multiple chances to post since the first few will be settling in stuff.

Tales of Edonia (Darog + Grif of Hearts)

Outskirts of Lenora

Reynir led the group to the location of Kazan and Raldo. The journey was a long trip up north back into the highlands of Edonia. Edonia was perhaps known best for its cities, but there were a few small refuges away from the hustle and bustle of the urban sprawl however small, and the Edonian highlands were one of them. Deep green grass and sheer stone cliffs, shrouded in a thin layer of fog that never quite seemed to leave. It was easy to get lost here, with few defined roads and poor visibility, but Reynir was determined in his movements and only slowed down to make sure his companions were close behind.

How he had found the location of this place so quickly was beyond Monarch. She had heard much about Reynir, especially from Alfen as they had made their way south into Firaxia, and it was clear the man always knew more than he let on. Perhaps his siphoned spirit, Aatos, was whispering the location to his ears, or the man had more eyes across the country than she could have ever expected. He was mostly silent around her though, giving only brief and occasionally cryptic responses to his questions. She had given up trying to commune with him much unless he spoke first. A powerful caster, certainly, but a strange man none the less.

Reynir himself could feel the entire layout of the land. Aatos' power meant that the earth merely felt like an extension of himself, and while it had taken him a few days to pinpoint the location of Rita, his meditation and scrying had quickly paid off. She was in the Edonian highlands, and she was not alone. Reynir's scrying was not the most developed or specific, but it had its uses, and seemed able to penetrate defenses that would protect most from the divinations of others. What was important was that he knew where the girl was, and he could take his new companions to her.

Alfen was more ready than he had ever been, a stern, determined look etched onto his face. He trailed just behind his hulking friend, following his footsteps intently. He had expected his reunion with Reynir to be a joyous one, but it dawned on him soon after they left Pyrello that it would have to wait. They had to save Rita. They had to. Still, he was happy to have Reynir along to help.

What did make him slightly more curious was the tall stranger that had joined the group. Mona, Reynir, Alfen, and Anna had reunited with Darren and Crossbones some days ago, but instead of coming with reinforcements from Reeves, they had a stranger in tow; Rita's brother, Henry. In turn, Henry seemed to have a close eye on Alfen, as if judging him. Henry stared down Alfen, his eyes like arrows aimed at Alfen's head.

"Why don't you take a picture? It'll last longer." Alfen snapped.

"Just because you're helping in rescuing my sister does not give you the authority to date her."

Alfen's faced twisted into a mix of surprise and anger. His cheeks turned a little red, a clear sign of his embarrassment. "I'm not going to, man!"

"Really?" interrupted Crossbones, patting Alfen heavily on the back with a huge hand. "You two seemed to hit it off pretty well, and I guess today's your chance to play the big hero." He laughed loudly.

"I said I'm not going to!" Alfen shouted back, batting away Crossbones' hand.

Henry raised his Javelin, pointing it vaguely in Alfen's direction. "Good! Let it stay that way!"

The two young men locked horns several times over their travels, ready for either one to hit the other. Crossbones seemed to delight in teasing them both, an even Anna made a point of joining in. She was small, and often worried she might be forgotten. Not today, she thought to herself, as she perched on Alfen's shoulder.

"Just think," she said, leaning in to rest her tiny figure against his head gently. "She's your damsel in distress. You could be her knight in shining armour, riding in to rescue her at the last moment atop your mighty steed! She'll fall for you in an instant, and then you won't have a choice in the matter. Gosh, what's that? I can hear wedding bells already!"

The tiny woman bust out laughing, a high pitched giggle that came with enough force to knock her backwards, and she fell right off of Alfen's shoulder. Alfen tried to shake her away too but she was long gone, and caught herself at the last moment with her wings and fluttered back up alongside them all. "And now I'm going to have to start practicing baking cakes again. I've never made a wedding cake before," she teased again, barely containing herself as she fluttered across to rest on Crossbones' shoulder instead. She was agile and swift, but she could hardly compete with the powerful, tireless stride of her human companions. She talked and giggled with Crossbones the entire way along.

"Guys? Let's save the young miss first, okay?" Darren yelled back, his face starting to turn red.

Mona chimed in eventually. "Yes, can we try and focus? We're all here to save a girl that needs help."

"And we're nearly there," said Reynir. Mona believed that to be the first thing he had said all day. "An hour. Maybe less if we're swift and nothing decides to interrupt us. That means we should be especially focused and astute. These two arcanists, Raldo and Kazan, were clearly powerful foes, and I sense they will not be alone here. Your numbers may have grown in Henry, but there will be more this time."

Both Henry and Alfen turned from each other. They seemed to grow silent after that, turning their focus onto the fog-covered hills in front of them. They had a mission after all. It was only a moment before Alfen spoke again, this time to Reynir. "Are you really not staying with us?" he asked.

"I have responsibilities elsewhere, Alfen," he said. "I wish I could, but I have already been gone for far longer than I wanted to be. There is a lot of trouble along the Firaxan borders at the moment, as you saw. War is brewing, I believe, and someone needs to be there to protect those who might otherwise be caught in the crossfire."

Alfen's head sunk.

"Worry not, Alfen. I trust in your abilities, and in those of your companions. You have a strong group working behind you, and I truly believe you will be able to rescue your friend. Just try to keep on that temper of yours, Alfen. Emotions are a strong ally, but can just as easily be your downfall." Reynir smiled.

It was not long until they could see the abandoned guild manor. They were above it, some two hundred meters off, stood on a small rocky outcrop. Reynir crouched down low, his grey cloak over his shoulders to better blend in with the terrain. Darren came up beside him, crouuched low in the same position.

"Damn. It seems your friends Kazan and Raldo have recruited some bandits to protect the base of the guild," Darren said, turning his head to his allies and repeating the information.

"Not just bandits," Reynir corrected. "There are others. Bounty hunters, mages, technicians. It is a small army. I feel like if we made a dedicated, unified effort to enter the building they'd alert someone. And if they noticed us they'd do the same. I am sure they have been told who to expect."

"I have an idea. I'll distract this ragtag group of nothings, which should give you all time to make your way inside," Darren suggested. "They may be expecting people, but not a feral beast." The group nodded in agreement.

Darren brought both of hands hands together, and the few arcane runes across his body started to glisten. His muscles tightened and swelled suddenly, his eyes turning a gloss, pure black, and his entire body shifting and growing 'till he was over a foot taller. His skin, previously pale, became a hardened hide of grey and silver, protected with bands of iron arounds his wrists and ankles. "Go!" he roared as he lept high into the sky, lifted by the hefty iron-cast, bladed wings that protruded from his back, crashing down on the makeshift camp of bandits.

Anarchy broke out a moment later, the bandits screaming "Demon, demon!" as they hurried to grab their weapons. Darren grabbed them with open fists, throwing the bandits effortlessly and tearing them to pieces with clawed hands. One bandit hurled his spear, embedding itself deep in Darren's back, but he hardly flinched.

"We should be careful and move around Darren's distraction. He gets a little excessive when he's like this, and he-" just as Alfen explained what Darren was going to be like, the bestial form of Darren picked up a bandit and threw him overhead, the limp, unconscious body flying above the group's heads and crashing in some bushes. "-loves to throw things."

The group circled around him, their heads low, moving around the low hills and short cliffs to keep out of view of any of the bandits. They seemed far more preoccupied with Darren though, who seemed to be handling himself admirably. Anna smiled, and a small arcane sigil formed around her hand. "This should make a few of them run scared," she said under her breath and released the sigil.

A loud cacophony of roars came from across the hill, emanating from where Darren had appeared from, and now far away from where the group stood. It sounded just like Darren's bestial roar, and was followed by another and another. A few bandits dropped their weapons and ran. If one of these "demons" was strong enough to handle himself against all these people, then a dozen more would be unstoppable, and they didn't want to be here when the monsters show up.

They kept the sight of the guild in sight... an old building that followed an old dirt trail. It wasn't long until the sounds of bandits screaming and Darren's roars grew more distant, although they were all still dreadfully close. "It seems like the actual entrance is unguarded, but it's hard to see too clearly in this fog," Alfen said, a few sparks of electricity crackling between his fingers. The fog seemed thicker up at the guild, as if it were intentionally using it to keep itself hidden. Indeed, there was an unusual arcane tang in the air. "I didn't think they'd make it so easy... Wait, can you hear that?"

A sudden rush of wind caught them off guard. It was brief, but it was different from the still air that let the fog linger. In fact the wind started to clear the fog that obscured the guild, and from it a figure appeared. Tall, slender, and armed. Alfen quickly broke into a sprint, narrowly dodging Crossbones as he reached out to grab the boy by the arm and hold him back. With a turn of his wrist Alfen channeled his Punishing Wave spell, pushing both palms out at an impact point. As the large, thunderous wave was forced outwards, the figure brought both of his swords up and then dragged them down in a swift cut, slicing the arcane wave in two.

Alfen threw out a punch this time, his fist crackling with energy, but the armoured swordsman merely stepped to the side. His leg shot outwards, his knee connecting with Alfen's stomach, and with a twist on his heel he slammed his leg down and brought the other one around, a fierce back kick into Alfen's chest which threw him back some twenty feet. He crashed into the ground, but Reynir was there to pick him back up again.

The man eyed up the group carefully. He hardly made a move, but it was clear how ruthlessly he examined each and every one of them. "I was ordered to only face one of you. I must warn you though; I'm no slouch in combat," he stated as he brought one blade across the other with enough force to let sparks fly from it. He spoke with an air of pride, and seemed to choose no challenger, as if he were happy to fight any or all of those before him.

Alfen smirked and cracked his knuckles. "I guess Im' your ma-" Just as he was about to accept the invitation, Reynir stepped in front of him. "What the hell, man!?" Alfen aired his protests.

Reynir ignored it. "Gilgan," he called out, pushing the hood down from his face. The way he spoke; Reynir clearly new the man, and judging from his dour, cold expression, their past meetings had not been friendly ones. "If I must fight one of us then I accept your challenge." He clenched his fist tightly.

Gilgan was a powerful fighter, both with and without magic. They had met before, once, and Reynir had not won that fight, but he had survived and learned from it. His conjured weapons were powerful items and he seemed to have perfect mastery in each of them. He was impossible to predict, and more talented in combat than any of his companions. If Gilgan had to fight anyone here, let alone Alfen, then he would probably win. He fought with honour, but he fought for money, and if he was given orders to kill then he would. Reynir doubted he could win this fight, but rather him than the others.

Henry looked at the man in front of them. He recognised the ornate armor styled after that of knights of a far off land, and the two blades in the man's hands looked expertly crafted. Henry looked on, eyes wide. "Guys, that's Gilgan Messai; mercenary mage and warrior for hire. We should be on our guard, this man is not to be messed with." Henry stated.

"Pffffft, I've trained with stronger mages, this guy should be no challenge for me!" Alfen replied with bravado and foolish confidence, more electricity channeling through his palms.

"He's too strong for you, Alfen, and I know you would be eager to prove me wrong," Reynir said. He pointed towards the guild manor. "But you have someone to save and that is more important than proving yourself, so if someone has to face this obstacle so that you may pass then it might as well be me."

Alfen stood in place, wanting to protest and fight alongside his friend. He clenched his fists, shaking any feelings he had to stay. He knew Reynir was right. He grit his teeth and the electrical energy faded. "Eugh! Just don't lose to this asshole," Alfen shouted with determination, glaring at Gilgan as he followed behind the rest of group as they moved closer to the manor. Gilgan did not move from his spot, keeping his stare locked on Reynir, letting the others pass.

He brought his hand up to his chest, grabbing the worn grey cloak from around his shoulders and tearing it off, throwing it aside where it caught the new, stronger winds and fluttered away. Beneath his cloak Reynir wore mostly sturdy, practical cloths and leathers if anything at all, covering his legs in greaves, but his chest, arms, and legs were left exposed, baring the many scars he had accumulated over the years. They were many, some more gruesome than others. "I wasn't supposed to stay and fight..." he muttered under his breath, as he brought both of his arms up in a defensive stance.

REYNIR VS GILGAN

"It's rather cute that one of the Van Dragoon children look up to you," Gilgan chuckled, slightly amused at the concept. "It's not surprising though. You are a capable mage, even if I defeated you. I recall that it was with only a single blade too, right? Sorry, sometimes all the dull fights blend into one."

Reynir visibly grit his teeth. He did not like Gilgan, not one bit, and his arrogance and bravado struck all the wrong chords. To Reynir the fight seemed close, but he still had a lot to learn about the mercenary mage that stood before him, and despite his research he knew he had barely scratched the surface. He would stay slow, cautious, and analytical.

Gilgan stated moving to Reynir's left. "Muramasa, dispel". As he uttered those words, the blade in his right hand, long, curved katana, dispersed into an arcane mist and his right hand moved to his grip the other katana, taking it in two hands. "Are you ready, Reynir?" he asked.

Reynir nodded.

He saw a brief smile flash across Gilgan's lips before the man was suddenly out of sight, only the faint afterimage of his form lingering behind him. A blade was brought up, coming across Reynir's chest, which he had no chance to block. He took it square on, but Reynir hardly flinched, and as the blade came back around to thrust into Reynir's back, a collumn of stone erupted from the ground to catch it. Gilgan reappeared, bringing a boot up onto the stone collumn to wrench his sword from it.

Reynir brought his own leg back, shattering the stone collumn with explosive force, just as Gilgan retrieved his sword. He was thrown back, no worse for wear, but if he had been half a second later then that might have hurt. Once again the mercenary smiled, more fiercely this time, and stepped out of sight again. He flashed in sight again to Reynir's left, coming in with an upward diagonal slash from his blade, but it only met a stone fist as Reynir caught the blade and threw it aside, parrying the blow. He grabbed the sword tightly, hurling it and Gilgan aside. Blood oozed from Reynir's hand through the cracks in the stone; it was tough but not indestructable, and Reynir gave a slight wince as he turned back to face Gilgan, who had once again retreated to ten feet away, seemingly in full health.

"Not bad," the mercenary said, readjusting his stance. "You've gotten faster."

"You've gotten clumsier."

"Oh, I'm so wounded," Gilgan teased, sarcasm pouring from every word. "Are you going to throw a punch or are you just going to let me whittle you down until you can hardly stand?"

Reynir was silent.

Gilgan's expression immediately turned sour, his smile replaced with a stern, serious frown, keeping his eyes upon Reynir at all costs. Gilgan then moved in closer before he vanished again. Rapid footsteps beating against the stone floor; Reynir felt everyone one, the vibrations channeling through the earth towards him, until suddenly they stopped... but no strike came. He was above.

Gilgan reappeared above Reynir, a downward strike ready in tow. "Masamune Style: Fallen Heaven" Gilgan said, the blade in hand glowed a bright white light.

Reynir brought his leg down with enough force to crack earth, and a spear of stone erupted beneath him, spiralling upwards towards Gilgan. In turn he brought both of his arms up, encased in cracked, sturdy stone, and moved to catch the blade again should it come so close.

As the blade met the palms of Reynir, a shockwave erupted from the two clashing fighters. Gilgan felt Reynir's energy, narrowly dodging the spear of earth to which he tewisted himself out of its path. Gilgan soon moved backwards, his feet hitting the stone spear and using it to push himself away.

"Masamune, dispel!" he yelled, letting go of the blade which Reynir caught, letting it fade into an arcane mist before he even finished his sentence.

Gilgan, a smirk etched permanently on his face. "I must admit, I sensed a little of your magic there, your powers have grown since our first fight. Guess this means I must get serious." Gilgan said to his earth mage opponent.

"And yet, we are still both holding back so much," Reynir replied. He closed his eyes, and instead felt Gilgan's movements across the earth. He always felt more comfortable sensing through his magic, although against a foe as agile as Gilgan it was difficult and unreliable, especially when he took to the skies.

"Beowulf, I summon thee!" called out Gilgan. Light enveloped his hands and feet, a twisting spiral of blue arcane energy and golden radiance. The light dispersed and in its place were a pair of gauntlets and greaves, decorative metal lined with gold. Playfully, as if he saw Reynir as a toy rather than a true opponenent, Gilgan cracked both his knuckles and stretched his legs. Gilgan readied himself. "I'll fight on your level then, been a while since I've used Beowulf."

"You know as well as I do if we both fought at our limit the damage here would be catastrophic," Reynir replied. He shifted his position, taking a more offensive stance than before.

Gilgan vanished, moving at such speeds that to the untrained eye one would assume he was teleporting. Reynir could follow it, just

"Beowulf Style: Fury Strikes" Gilgan appeared behind Reynir readying himself to hit the earth mage with a flurry of extremely strong punches. He unleashed them, launching blow after blow, light jabs that still hit with more force than most mages could ever muster. Reynir parried every single one. Stone covered fists met the shining metal gauntlets of Gilgan's Beowulf, every bit as fierce and fast as his were. The very ground shook beneath them, the arcane energy between them thick enough to taste, each punch met with another, an eruption of force between each one.

"Beowulf Great Blow!" Gilgan roared, pulling back his left fist fully, taking a few blows from Reynir as he exposed himself, before he launched a single, immensely powerful punch towards Reynir.

It connected with Reynir's jaw with a resounding, sickening crack. Gilgan laughed as he finally made a critical strike, which forced Reynir backwards at an incredible speed. The man lost control for a moment, struggling to regain control as he barreled across the ground. Reynir did, eventually, his stone-covered fist digging deep into the earch, tearing a path as he slowed. While Gilgan remained quite expressive, Reynir's face was still stern and stoic, and as he finally came to a stop he threw himself back towards Gilgan. The distance was closed in an instant, as bright white electricity erupted from Reynir's heels and forced him forwards, stone and dirt erupting behind him as he grabbed Gilgan by the collar with one hand, taking him with him as he brought a foot to the ground and pushed hard.

The two tore their way upwards into the sky, more and more electricity pooling around Reynir's body as the clouds above started to darken and gather together, casting a shadow above the battleground. The two men threw powerful blows at each other again, ceaselessly.

Reynir's voice boomed out, louder than even the crack of thunder that erupted around them. "Gale Art; Sirroco Torrent!" he bellowed, as he gripped Gilgan even tighter, now holding onto them with both hands.

The wind picked up in an instant. Razor thin blades composed entirely of wind circled them for but a moment before they closed in, and lethal, searing hot knives carved themselves across Gilgan, digging deep and hot enough to cauterise the very wounds they caused. Reynir turned, hefting Gilgan over his shoulders and throwing him straight down.

Gilgan struck the ground, his form shrouded in dust as his body struck stone and dirt which quickly began to grasp at his limbs. He felt the force of Reynir's throw and was pleasantly surprised, his eyes opened a little wider. That actually stung a little. The dust settled as the warrior rose up, the leathers on his outfit left in tatters loosely hanging to his muscled form, and his armor had shown its wear, with deep cuts along the chest piece. He immediately turned to Reynir who slowly fell from the skies, landing with surprising grace as his feet touched the ground.

"You truly are holding back," he said. "Fine, a worthy opponent deserves a true challenge."

Gilgan's Beowulf set dispersed, the gauntlets manifesting into two huge spears of twisted metal, one black and one white, and the greaves transforming into huge axe heads which combined together to form a twin pair of halberds which despite their weight he held effortlessly. One appeared divine and angelic in design, whilst the other more devilish and demonic. "I hope you're ready".

"Stone Spirit Evoker."

Reynir threw his fist down into the ground, tearing a chunk of stone from the earth with a single hand, and drew the material around his body, forming a suit of untempered, rugged stone armour in greys and browns. The armour was slow and sluggish at first, but arcane runes slowly began to generate around his form, and the stone began to shift and change. Reynir's form grew taller and more muscular, almost twice the height of Reynir, and the impenetrable blackness where his eyes once were ignited in white flames. The form roared, the once deep voice of Reynir becoming rough and inhuman, as the stone itself was speaking. It pulled its arms back, arms ready, and charged at Gilgan.

"Atronach!"

XXXXX

"We are close" Henry said, seeing the large guild manor up head, looking as dilapidated as he imagined it would. "Careful, there's someone up head, or two."

"Since when have you been the Team Captain?" Alfen huffed, hardly registering as two more figures appeared from the fog, standing to meet them.

"Would you be quiet?!!" Henry hushed back.

Two more figured stood, watching the group intently as they approached the doors of the guild manor. A man, dressed in dark but extravagant clothes. He was short, only five and a half feet tall, but the long felt horns of his jester hood gave him the appearance of a taller man, and despite his bizarrely comedic dress he clearly commanded presence. The woman beside him was much more brightly dressed, wrapped in a a thick red cloak, her pale skin and white hair only just visible beneath the cowl. The briefest smile appeared on her face before eventually twisting into a true grin.

"Would you look at this, Zinko?" she said, analysing them all intently.

"My my! We have some guests!" the man beside her replied. "And Master Orus is not even done powdering his nose... What a shameful host, to not be ready to present to guests!"

Every word he spoke oozed magic. Something about the way he spoke and how he moved, changing from animated and emotional to cold and rigid, betrayed something about his nature. Henry could sense it more strongly than most, a dark presence radiating from the jester.

"Where's my sister!?" Henry shouted, raising his spear to point at the two figures. He kept it aimed more towards Zinko than his female companion... Something told him that he was a bigger threat.

Minerle tilted her head to the side in curiosity, and seemed almost jealous that she had not done enough to draw Henry's favour. She opened her mouth to speak, pausing for a moment to bring her finger up to her lip almost thoughtfully, before continuing. "You mean that precious, fragile little thing that Kazan dragged in? Raldo is keeping an eye on her. She's perfectly safe... for now."

Zinko took a few slow steps forward, and whilst many of the mages brought their arms up to protect themselves, Zinko moved without an ounce of aggression. His body twisted as he brought a hand to the ground, slowly but effortlessly moving closer to the group in a cartwheel, landing just before Henry. "Why not have some tea? I'm sure you will enjoy the show. Raldo hasn't gotten very close with Rita, and who knows what he might do?" Zinko's face flashed another smile, baring a few sharp teeth.

Henry moved forward, ready to strike the clown down. "Shardmancy: Lance Formation," he yelled as his spear broke apart and reassembled itself into a much larger lance. Before anyone could stop him he thrust forward with the weapon, but Zinko only smiled.

The mad clown's eyes flashed and Henry to stopped in an instant. He felt Zinko's presence weighing him down as if gravity was pulling him towards the earth he stood on, and a thick black aura surrounded the young man. "I like to call that my "Killing Intent Presence" spell. A little nifty illusion trick! I shouldn't need to explain what he's feeling right now; but he's frozen in fear! Poor little thing, thinks he'll die if he moves an inch! I could kill him, I suppose, but I don't want to fight the pups." He brought a crooked finger up, slowly raising it to point at the auburn haired woman in the group. "I want you, Monarch."

She stood forwards. "So you know me? I suppose you wish to fight me, and your companion there," Monarch pointed her staff towards the red cloaked woman. "-would fight one other member of our group?"

"Very perceptive!" Zinko replied, his grin growing madder and madder. "And I believe my friend Minerle has already chosen her opponent..." A glance was flashed at Anna, her determined look fading into one of fright in but an instant.

Minerle cleared her throat. It was clear even she was repulsed by Zinko's wild grin. "If you want to rescue the pretty damsel, each one of you will have to face us. The Oroborus Society formally challenges you all!" Minerle explained to the group. She shot a look towards Anna.

"I'll be waiting for you outside of the main hall," she stated, a soft chuckle coming from her.

"Me?" Anna questioned, clenching both of her fists tightly.

Minerle nodded. "Ciao!"

Crossbones brought a heavy hand up, resting it gently on Mona's shoulder. She brought her own hefty clawed hand up to meet it. "You gonna be okay?" he asked her.

"I'll be fine. I think he's strong, but I am capable too." She took in a deep breath, and shot a brief look behind her, catching a moment as Reynir and Gilgan clashed, steel blades against solid stone. She turned back, and for the first time Alfen saw her genuinely smile. "Besides, someone is going to have to help Reynir when he's knocked down."

Alfen gave Monarch a thumbs up. "You can do it, Mona! Beat that sorry clown's ass!" Alfen's words were filled with fire and passion.

"That's my girl," Crossbones replied, patting her on the back. "Show him that Lithium kick I know and love. Good luck."

The group passed by Mona and Zinko as the two fighters took a few paces apart, finding distance. Crossbones watched intently, although the two fighters hardly moved. Even as they clambered up the steps of the manor and hesitantly pushed open the heavy wooden doors, following in Minerle's footsteps, there was hardly a sound.

MONARCH VS ZINKO

Zinko smiled as the doors behind him closed with a heavy thud. He brought his arms upwards, and as thick, black arcane energy poured from his hands it coalesced, taking the form of a pair of curved scimitars of black metal, each of which he caught effortlessly in his hands. He brought one back and one forward, a true combat stance, the first aggressive motion Monarch had felt from him. In turn she brought her staff back behind her, held tightly in her intact hand, while her clawed augmentation was held forward, the scythe-like claws rattling as they tapped against metal.

"I hope you're ready to dance," Zinko said, almost singing the words in delight. "Because I'm not going to stop until you're dead, dead, dead!"

Zinko lept into the air with remarkable speed, twirling his body as he launched himself at Monarch, both blades held outwards, transforming him into a whirlwind of black steel. The attack was met with an equally aggressive one, as Monarch thrust her staff forward, a crackle of electrical and arcane energy colliding to release a bolt of thick, blue plasma, which shot through the sky like an arrow directly at Zinko.

His blades cut straight through the bolt, the energy torn apart and tossed in all directions, crashing against the ground with incredible force. A combined shot would knock most men out cold, if not kill them. She fired another but it was deflected just as easily, before she brought her staff down and fired one at the ground just as she leapt. Mona was thrown back, her position clouded in thick dust and dirt, and her vision never left it as she landed back on both feet, forcing her staff into the ground to slow her as she slid backwards.

The mad form of Zinko appeared again, almost launching himself out of the dust towards her in a long, straight thrust with his curved swords. Monarch brought her hand upwards, a clawed hand catching in the blades and throwing it upwards. As Zinko brought his other sword forwards she caught it with her staff, and then released an eruption of arcane energy from her staff, magic tearing into Zinko's flesh and throwing him off of her.

"You are faster than I had expected," Mona said, bringing her claw up to inspect the damage. His sword had cut deep into the metal, but it had hit nothing vital. She did not know whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, but brought the head of her staff along the cut and the metal resealed.

Zinko quickly recovered from the arcane blow, and kept his movements erratic and quick, his eyes fixed on Monarch. "The feeling is mutual!" he said in an excited tone. "But maybe it's time we acted with a more serious manner. I've waiting for this chance to fight you, since you're so adamant on finding out the true puppet masters." He smirked devilishly, teasing the woman. "But I'm not telling you!".

Monarch slammed her staff into the ground, and a trio of royal blue spheres materialised in front of her. She brought her staff around in a wide swing, and the arcane balls flew towards Zinko. He effortlessly avoided them, a simple step to the side that made her attempts look pitiful. Mona scowled.

"The darkness consumes all in due time, and my magic is no different. Void Art is the essence of darkness made reality by yours truly!" yelled Zinko. He stepped backwards and in a moment he was gone, his body was engulfed by a spiral of darkness, circling him like slithering serpents that snapped and hissed at the air. "Void Art: Shade Slice Cutter," he said as the shadows changed shape, twisting into a huge, crescent blades that hung loosely by his side, before they cut through the air towards Monarch, twisting and changing direction in erratic movements that were almost impossible to predict.

Surprisingly Monarch did predict them. She ducked low as one came at her at her waist, a horizontal slash that went over her head and crashed into the wall behind them. The second was swifter, a diagonal cut that dug deep into the floor. Rather than duck, Mona used her staff to push herself back into her feet and pointed the head of her staff at the floor, raising it upwards just as the blade impacted. A wall of arcane magic that flickered into view just in a moment took the blow, and as Monarch brought her staff down the shadows evaporated.

"You better be light on your toes!" Zinko mocked, creating more of the dark curved blades that started to swerve around his form.

In the flurry of the newly appearing curved blades of energy Zinko moved with frightening agility, flipping and cartwheeling as if he was more putting on a show than fighting, using the momentum of his acrobatics to hurl more shadowy blades. To Monarch it almost looked like he was teleporting with each step he took, vanishing and appearing in quick succession, before his dark, shadowy form appeared only inches away from Mona.

"Void Art: Nothingness Shower!" he shouted, his palms aimed at Monarch. Erupting from his hand came numerous smallish black orbs that shot towards the magitechnician, shadowy wisps that coiled through the air and homed in on the slender female figure. She backed up, hurling orbs of arcane energy to repel Zinko's erratic, searing bolts of magic which licked at her armoured clothing, enough to burn her skin even though not one landed a direct hit. They stung, and Mona could tell the burns were more than skin deep. She grit her teeth, forced into a defensive position as she searched for cover from Zinko's barrage.

As she turned on her heel, a shaded figure appeared before her, the sinister form of Zinko once again infront of her. Mona turned again and Zinko was there. He stood wherever she turned. There was no running from this, she had to fight back now. She summoned her strength and raised her staff to the air, taking a single bolt of energy to the chest that tore apart her armour. She yelled, forcing her staff down into the ground as sickly blue energy pulsed through it, forcing cracks to form in the ground. Mona was outmatched, but not for long, she thought, as stone spikes erupted from the earth.

"Soul Weaver Art; Command!"

XXXXXXXX

As they entered the abandoned guild, Henry looked back, the presence of the crazed clown no longer having any effect on him. "What the hell was that? that power, that was almost on par with a Mage Beast...I hope Monarch knows what she's doing." He couldn't shake the thought of being so helpless right infront of one of the mages that had held Rita in captivity.He looked at Crossbones, a shame filled expression on his face. "I'm sorry for that display of cowardice back there," he apologised.

"It's fine, Henry." Crossbones replied. He smiled, although Henry could tell there was some worry there. "Mona definitely knows what she's doing. She's smart and knows exactly what she's capable of, and more importantly I think she has an idea what Zinko is capable of. She'll play it defensive, definitely, but she'll be fighting him to buy time, not win a fight. The best thing we can do to help is keep moving."

"We can brood after we save Rita, okay? So just snap out of it." Alfen said quite bluntly put as they moved through hallway. Crossbones frowned for a moment, but paid it no further mind. Henry nodded at Crossbones though, and steeled himself as they walked forwards. They travelled for a while, heading deeper into the building, through a long corridoor until they arrived in a large, square room, almost reminiscent of a ball room. As they did, the doorway behind them burst into bright orange flames which bit at their exposed skin, completely blocking the passage.

"Let me guess," muttered Alfen as, from the other side of the room, another figure appeared. Alfen grit his teeth. "Finally, I get a chance to knock that pompous fire mage down a peg."

"The big guy," said Kazan as he stepped into the bright light of the roaring fire, a finger pointed directly at Crossbones. "You. I want to fight you."

Alfen's jaw dropped. "Why not me?!"

Kazan smirked. "Because I actually want a challenge."

A lightning bolt erupted from Alfen's clenched fist, cutting just beside Kazan's ear. The man hardly flinched, although his hair was slightly singed from the attack. The man only laughed. "That the best you can do?"

Alfen's fists were clenched hard, he wanted to punch the smug smile off of Kazan's face. His eyes flashed for a second, as if his anger was being fueled by a force unknown to himself. Kazan felt it, surprised to feel such ferocity.He however payed no mind to it and instead, focused on the opponent that was Crossbones.

As Alfen stepped forwards, Crossbones held out hand. "Remember Rita, Alfen," Crossbones said. "This little game, challenging each of us individual in a fair fight? It's all part of their little game, so let's go along with it for a little. You're a tough kid, and I'm not sure how well I'd stand up against another one of their mages."

The huge man turned his face back towards Kazan, and a smile crossed his face. He brought his hands up, and from the bracers around his forearms a pair of huge, iron gauntlets manifested themselves which hummed with arcane magitechnology. A thin trail of pale steam spilled out from each gauntlet as the mechanics picked up a steady pace.

"Besides, I have a rematch to win."

Kazan smiled. "Perfect."

"Anna, look after these two for me," Crossbones jested. "Find Rita, and quickly. I don't know how much time we have."

"Got it, boss," she replied with a solemn smile, and left her perch on Crossbones' shoulder to sit on Alfen's. "C'mon, fellas. We have a girl to rescue."

CROSSBONES VS KAZAN

Kazan had waited for this moment for a while. Although he had thought Raldo's imprudent attempt to scare them by kidnapping the girl had been foolish, maybe letting Raldo steal Rita was not such a bad idea if it meant he finally got to prove himself better than this brute of a man. He looked the magitechnician in front of him, snearing at the crude mechanical gauntlets on his fists. How pathetic. Kazan clicked his fingers and the candles that lined the room dimmed and died down, letting them cast a soft, almost ominous orange glow across the room.

"I would usually fight with a ring of fire surrounding myself and my opponent, but it's all theatrics and rather heavy on my mana. and you're not the weakling type, for a Magitech user ofcourse" He smirked. "Do you want me to start? Or should I say ladies first?" Kazan said, a mocking sneer on his face as flames erupted from his hands. He just needed the big brute to buy the bait.

"Catch!" yelled Crossbones as he hurled a hefty, fist-sized rock at Kyzan.

Kazan raised an eyebrow. A rock, really? He smiled, wondering if this was in fact easier than he thought it was going to be. He raised a hand and, as the stone came within arms reach, a pulse of fire erupted from his hand and threw the charred rock aside. Or at least, that was what Kazan intended to happen. The rock exploded, sending shrapnel and fire in all directions. Kazan felt hot metal cut through his skin, and while the eruption of flame may have harmed anyone else, his magic was strong enough to resist the overbearing heat. It was not, however, enough to resist the enormous metal gauntlet that came crashing through the fire and the smoke, as Crossbones threw a vicious punch to the man's jaw.

It connected, throwing the frailer mage backwards and into the wall. Crossbones laughed, surprised that had worked as well as it had. He watched as Kazan pulled himself back up, a few cuts and grazes on him and his clothes, and an extremely bruised left side of his face, and motioned to his belt.

"Ozalian Firebomb," Crossbones said, pulling another off of his belt and tossing it into the air, catching it with just as little effort. "Didn't think it'd be that effective, what with your magic all being fire based and all, but I think the surprised help.

"Well, at least now your little surprise attack won't work a second time now that I know what they all do."

Crossbones chuckled. "This one isn't a firebomb," he replied, as he hurled the orb which erupted, coating the entirity of the far side of the chamber in a thick layer of crystal-like ice.

XXXXX

There were only three now. They had to save Rita, but they were being spread increasingly thin. Anna had faith in her new companions, but faith often wasn't enough. Both Henry and Alfen raced forward with Anna leading the party, leaving both Kazan and Crossbones to their fight, only for the pathway to be sealed as a huge wall of ice erupted and covered the entrance. Alfen looked at Anna.

"Watch yourself around that lady. She had an eye on you, and we have no idea what she is capable of. We at least know of Kazan's and Raldo's abilities, but the clown and that hooded lady? We don't know." Alfen stated.

"I'm as worried as you are, Alfen," she replied, weaving through the air still with a remarkable amount of grace despite the stress they were under. "But I think I should be able to take her if she choses me. I'm good at keeping out of the way, promise. I'll play defensively and work out what her tricks are. Worry about yourself, Alfen, not me. I'll be fine."

"If I'm not mistaken," interupted Henry. "That man in black could be the one they call "The Dark Jester", a mage assassin that's been running amok amongst the mage society. If that's the case then Monarch might be out of her depth."

Anna swallowed hard, but Alfen immediately turned to Henry with a fierce expression. "Don't underestimate Monarch! She's as tough as they can be. She'll beat him, I know she will."

"How long have you known her, exactly? How long have either of you known her? I'm sure she's very competent, but there's a difference between that and... a difference between that and what I've heard the Jester can do. We just have to hope that's not him, or that the rumours are overstated."

Sacred Arms: a Tale of Heroes

@Conflagration Yes! and yeah we got quite a few for intro posts xD. Thank you nonetheless!

To everyone else - Since we still have a few people who haven't stated their current situation with the RP and their posts, I'm moving the GM post for another week, after that point I'll post the next bit. Essentially the next post will be everyone meeting up in Digbeth at some point, and Mavlek learning a little bit of everyone.

Have a good weekend!

If you ever wind up in a mental institute.

Please...

...continue.