Thalen leaped back right before the jaws of the first night lurker snapped shut where his face was. He snapped his whip at the beast, the steel thorns rending flesh and scratching the chitin that was their armor. The lurker shrieked loudly in pain, a horrible sound that made one’s flesh crawl, so to speak. The night lurker was angered, obviously, and tried to maul him by running him over with its great bulk. Thalen twirled out of the way and plunged his sword into the unarmored section of its chitin. Dark ichor flowed from the newly made wound, causing the Vekian insectoid to shriek once more in horrible pain. From its other side, a single patrol of Skath guards with spears attacked the Night lurker, plunging their spears into its flank. “Thanks” Thalen said to them, lashing out at the lurker’s eye with his blade.
The four of them managed to take the lurker down after that but the patrol went straight to fight another lurker. There seemed to be even more coming from the holes and were swarming the city. Screams of people could be heard almost everywhere within earshot which was a lot from the market. The city was in panic and more and more guardsmen practically poured out of the barracks armed to the teeth. Not to mention that portions of the honorguard from each house were also there, elite of Vekian guards. And not to mention that mages were also being sent out, especially pyromancers.
The Rath’kar warrior looked around quickly. He saw people climbing up on roofs to get away from the monsters, which was smart. The night lurkers wouldn’t be able to climb that well with crossbow bolts and spears going into their sides at irregular basis. He also saw spellcasters flinging their magics about. One was even flinging lightning, a black clad man partnered up with another black clad man. Why did everyone decide to wear black? Thalen always saw at least half a dozen mages from the houses come and try to handle the situation only to be met with more Night Lurkers.
Thalen was treated with the sight of a guard being torn apart by a pair of night lurkers, one of his comrades screaming in anger as he plunged his spear into the unguarded flank of the beast. The market was being flooded with blood and ichor, the howls of pain and agony filled the center of Vekia. It was utter anarchy and chaos in the famed merchant city as if a deep and lasting scar was being carved out very very slowly. The Rath’Kar spirit caller fell back from the bulk of the Night Lurkers, stepping closer to the pair of black clad spellcasters. Vekian mages were also getting there and slowly, very slowly, the cursed monsters were being driven off. Some of the more wounded Lurkers went back into their holes but the majority of them rampaged through the city and seemingly heading for the walls, some through homes, where they could do a lot of harm to the people.
He then looked behind him to see the black clad man that was flinging the lightning before asking if he needed help. “I think I am good but there are so many of them, it will take so long” He said a little sarcastically, looking back at the nearby lurker and lashed his whip at it, rending flesh and scratching chitin.
===Haklo Desol stayed in the tavern when the night lurkers rose from the ground. His honorguard went to his side in almost an instant, drawing their weapons as they prepared to defend their lord with their lives. Haklo watched from the windows, watched the nightmarish creatures practically tore apart the city…his city. Although he knew it wasn’t his town, it would be one day. He sort of felt some responsibility. He had his hand on his black sword as his jaw tightened in offended anger.
He then suddenly looked over at the entrance of the Farmer’s Daughter and laid his eyes on a knightly clad woman, judging by the sound of her voice, addressing his name while carrying a very large sword. His honorguard partially drew their blades and readied them to go to his defense. “Yes, Ser Knight? Can I assist you?” He asked in his best voice of competence and calm.
A cold shiver goes through the blackened clad vampire after the use of so much magic, throwing so much lighting around. The feeling resembled the feeling of being watched if the watcher's, or watchers', gaze was also a beam of cold to the back of the head. A strong, instinctive need to hide would hit the vampire. It was one of the signs of Wraiths were at least glancing in his general direction.
The magic that the vampire priest was using was getting a bit dangerous. What felt like heat from two pokers dangerously close from his temples. The feeling of want to physically pull back would almost come to the elf vampire. This was a feeling that would give him the possible assumption of Wraiths at least passing by the rifts he was creating for his magic.