Skitters's Story

Amidst the bustle of the dark creatures, a small streak shoots through the portal, as a smaller figure is spat out, piggybacking the rift. The figure has slammed onto all fours, silvery light fur, striped tail, and what appears to be black tentacles shooting from the back. It was a raccoon of some sort, somewhat bigger than normal, with four fore-limbs, a strange symbol on its face, an 8 shape on its forehead. Across the maw of the creature was a red handkerchief mask with a black pawprint stain in front. This creature was Skitters, the reanimated pet and independent agent of a shadowy being known as Bashemath. Standing up groggily upon her hind legs, the raccoon, Skitters, observed her surroundings.

Not in Kansas anymore... wait, what the heck is a Kansas? she thought to herself, scratching her cheek some. She then, upon taking in a breath of the air cringes and narrowed her amber eyes. Yech, this place reeks of... ooooof... problems!

Problems was correct, as it became evident now that the shadowy hordes working about establishing some form of fortifications. And she had plunked herself right in the middle of it all.

Ah crap.

---

Elsewhere, the strange jester, Mal'kdet had gotten plastered, figuratively and... literally, onto the wall no less! The physical humor had been taken, perhaps, a little too far this time. Owru attempted to pry the fool off, but was thwarted by the adhesive quality of the plaster. Looking around, she scans the room with her three blue pool of eyes for any tool or substance to help. It was here that she saw that a good portion of the others were missing. Not only that, but it was clear to both of them that some spacial anomaly had occurred. The plaster bursts open, causing Owru to brace herself reactively.

"OOH, did I actually attract the Oracle here!?" he exclaims excitedly, warping through the ceiling of the place warping space as he does. In the air he puts a hand over his eyes and scans the scene with his little yellow pen-lights of eyes. He then slouches over. "Awwww maaaaan... that ain't his style of architecture... s'posed to be all elegant and shiny, screaming, 'I'm perfect.'"

"Still looks like a problem," Owru says, hand over her eyes as well, floating over Mal.

"Well, heyeaaah, but not exactly the kinda trouble I-, WHEN THE HELL DID YOU GET UP HERE!?" he exclaims flailing his hands around taking on a karate pose. "Also, what's the deal with you? You're an Edger, an outsider like me, why do you bother? The powers that be don't exactly look kindly on our kind."

"Powers that be..?" she asks, a look of concern and confusion on her face.

"You don't know!?" he exclaims, in a tone of utter disbelief. He then stares at her face go into shock, cowering some. Mal scratches the back of his head. "Sorry... I just... you... really don't know, do ya? Beings like us, aren't exactly meant to really... be, y'know? We exist outside the strings of mortal beings, neither gods nor men, and us being around generally triggers the great creators."

"So, I'm... bad..?" she responds, holding up a finger, squinting her eyes.

"No! No no no! Well, not... exaaaactly," he says scratching his head on how to explain this all to such an oblivious being. "We're just different from everyone else, we don't have a world, or belong anywhere, and typically beings like us are dangerous, and me, I'm... admittedly kinda just... cynical and deranged. I'm working on it... But when I look at you, the way you look at things, you have this... love in your eyes, and I just... don't get it. And that darkness inside of you, just feels, sad, scared... lonely. You're no saint, for sure, you've got anger and such in there as well, but... there's this ever-present kindness in how you deal with things and that is just... weird to me."

"W... well, um... I'm... not sure what to say to that, thank you?" she says, blushing slightly and scratching her cheek. "Y'know, you could have just left, your goal here has been thwarted and all..."

"Yeaahhh... it was originally the plan and all, get power, and leave this world, but... well, I dunno, you band of idiots kinda grew on me a little," he responds, shrugging with a chuckle. "Huh, I guess, maybe being part of something is what we long for most. I dunno if hero'n is my gig, I mean, I can certainly see the appeal of it, but sooner or later, it is back to the Edge for us."

"Back... to the Edge? T-to the empty..?" she says, her voice cracking as a fearful look in her eyes, the corners of each giving way to tiny glimmering beads, floating upwards before dispersing into the air.

Mal quietly glances at her. "A-are you... crying..? Damn, w-what is with you!? You're like... a... a... confusing mix of... girls and... kittens... and puppies, and... tshhh, and... agh! It's so... so..!" He exclaims, flailing his hands before poofing out all of a sudden. She freezes in place, glancing around for a moment, confused.

"Mal..?" she says, wiping her eyes. "Mal, I-" before she could continue, another snap was heard, and in a flash something was draped over her, revealed to be a long skirted hooded coat, obscuring her eyes. On the hood was ears, the scheme was gray-and-blue, with the symbol on her etched into it, with an ornate design. The sleeves of it, four of them, ended in broad round covers for her hands, like sleeved gloves, with holes for her fingers. It was specifically fitted to her rather unique form.

Mal poof back. "And cover yourself, will ya!? Just because you are some lizard thing don't mean you're above fashionable wears! And also, Merry Christmas! It'll even adjust to cover big and drippy!" he exclaims, before zipping off towards Vargas and the others.

"Wha..? H-hey wait!" Owru mutters, before following after.

The Chosen Few looked up to the sky. Although there were too many buildings to see outside, they could still deduce the direction of the anomaly that has arrived. To the south, the sky was darkening to a toxic yellow, as if years of industrial gases were being released into the atmosphere. It was a rather cliché sign of approaching evil, but it was a sign. They've found them, and Their presence were polluting the world like a stool in a pool.
"Well, you'll get an excellent opportunity to train yourself in a minute, Vargas," said John, reaching behind his back and pulling out his shotgun. "Have we ever mentioned the Darkness before?"
"They'll be building their foothold there, I bet on it," said Jack.
"Shall we tear it down before it gets too tough?" inquired Adam.
"Should do, otherwise this city's gonna get a nasty shock," said Max.
Years of facing beings beyond the horizon of mortal understanding had sharpened their senses to supernatural extent. As they made their way outside the city, they were possibly the only few who heard the faint buzzing like a locust swarm.
The Dark foothold was now the size of a small fort. Demons were yelling at each other, several were brawling with each other, few were tending to the alien machinations that were slowly growing. Amidst the daemonic bustle, none of them paid attention to the raccoon. Gossip was not a common phenomenon in an alien hivemind, but information on the critter's experimentation oozed across the masses. The thing was one of the hivemind's many salvages of now undone dominations, a near demonic splice of a rodent that could potentially be made into a weapon. A shame that it would slip between it's fingers, or rather, it's many legs.

”An opportunity to warm up more like it. It’s been awhile since I felt this looming sensation. And judging by your guys reaction it’s not the Fallen Gods making their move. Still, if there is a threat that needs to be taken care of ill protect my home and my people as a knight! Whatever comes at us, I’ll burn them with Dandelga!” The fiery headed warrior Vargas exclaimed as he grinned and clenched his fists.

It was clear he was more than fired up for this battle. ”I’m not sure if my fellow companions will be helping us this time around. Last time we saw Selena she said she was going back to her homelands...As for the others I have yet to find a trace of them...Still, we may not give them the best reception. But I’ll greet this evil and show them how this hero of fire greets someone that threatens his people. I’m no king, but I am a knight! So I’ll give them something they are going to remember! Lets do this!” Vargas soon began to march to the south. Head held high, and a grin across his face.

Well, one should never look a gift demon horse in the mouth...

Seeing the distracted creatures, the mutant bandit scurried around the construction sites, slipping behind, and climbing over the equipment, with the sneakiness of a ninja in the night. With a nimbleness higher than the average vermin, she swung and somersaulted, clearing a wall and sliding down it. It was best to remain unseen, or at least, too swift to be captured. There were other, bigger plans, all that hinged upon remaining unhindered.

Something grabbed her attention, however, as she caught sight of silhouettes in the horizon, that caused her eyes to glaze. It took a moment to really... process the very level of absurdity that struck her, had it not been bad enough with the shadowy hordes already. There, her eyes adjusted on what appeared to be, a firy haired human amongst... skeletons... a sea-green duck... a stick doodle person... and a boxy man.

Really!? her mind screamed, squinting one eye near shut, as her S shaped pupils dilated slightly. Distracted, she skidded to a stop, unable to digest this... conundrum, slapping her cheeks a couple times, just to be sure it wasn't some side-effect of the current reanimated state playing on her brain. Still there... perhaps...

"KrEhHhhhh..!" was the only sound that could escape her mouth, sounding more like a growl than words. Gripping her throat with her upper set of limbs. Useless crap vocal cords! Communication thwarted by technicalities, she tried instead to scurry away to try to avoid any encounter instead, but that crack of her throat was likely not going to go unnoticed.

By the time they've reached the foothold, it had grown to the size of a common skyscraper, the spires that made the portal now a mile high. A Darkling, three feet high and had the complexion of an angular lizard, would peek over the wall and let out a short shriek. From this distance, they could make out the eldritch words, "F' nog! F' nog! Fort ahnythor nafl ahmgep!" The chatter within the citadel changed in tone, now mixed with fear and utter hatred.
This was not the centre of their attention, though. What was the centre of their attention was the raccoon. It looked like the Darkness randomly picked up a critter, fitted it with tentacles and grew it to the size of a Darkling. By the looks of it, it didn't expect the Chosen Few. They watched as it let out a screech and ran away.
"Well then," said John, finally, as he turned back to the portal base. "You know the drill, gentlemen. Slay the hordes, dismantle of portal, and get the hell out of there."
Max would walk towards the fort. Since the demons are either very protective of their property or have never heard of doors, the Robloxian focused on a spot on the 10 foot barrier between the Darkness and everything else. He would wind back his mechanical arm, lights flashing along the upper part, and slam his fist into the wall. It showed resistance at first, but after several goes, it might have been a puny brick wall.
They didn't have time for the dust to settle. As soon as the wall fell, they would be swarmed by shrieking Darklings. Although the strength of one Darkling wouldn't terrorise a nursery of children, in thousands they were overwhelming. In the art of war, however, they could be classified as cannon fodder, as the Chosen Few would hold them back, Max letting loose jabs and uppercuts to take out the more formidable creatures, Adam cutting down the wave the demons like a farmer in a wheat field, Jack loading a squirt gun with holy water and letting loose on the horde, Fancy pirouetting through the masses and dismembering the unfortunate few who couldn't think faster than a kid with the IQ of 10, and John, his shotgun loaded with Ordersteel bullets, penetrating the horde with every shot, his pockets spawning a seemingly endless round of ammunition.

Well their enemy was certainly working quick, a massive fort already built. Still, the more enemies inside the bigger the battle. And Vargas was more than ready for a fight...However some sort of growl got his attention and as he looked some sort of creature quickly darted off into the distance. He never heard or saw raccoons before so he had no clue what it was.

Still, his action now returned as Max was about to punch a way into the compound. Drawing Dandelga, The fiery headed warrior readied his blade. Grip tight at the hilt, he got ready as when the hole was made a massive horde of creatures began to swarm them.

Vargas roared as he leapt into the horde causing a large fiery explosion and began to cut down the darklings one by one. It was time for a quick warm up, surely the ones in charge of what appeared to be an invasion would not stand idily by. And he would give them all his fury!

Turning back, bewildered, the group went head-on into combat with the dark horde. A peculiar thing to run to danger instead of from it. Then again, were they even in danger? Standing upon hind legs she looked more intensely, pupils adjusting to the flashes of light, of the mayhem, it seemed... actually effortless in the way they dispatched the beasts. Okay, she thought, strength is what I lack, maybe?

As she pondered this, another figure zips by, nearly toppling the masked varmint. Landing a few feet in front, it was Mal, making a jingle as he gracefully lands on one foot, hand over his brow to look out at the battlefield.

"They already started, in...con...ceivable," Mal mutters, watching the heroes fight the hordes, floating with hands on his hips. "Ehhhhh... buncha small fries by the looks of it. Barely a nibble," he continues, muttering as he waves his right hand in the air, accentuating his dissatisfaction. As he does so, however, he conjures one of his eels to go after the creatures, its jaws snapping.

Seeing this, the raccoon falls backwards. These guys are weird! the raccoon thought slapping her paws down on her legs. Looking left and right, and looking at her arms, she squints one eye. Okay, so kettle, meet pot, but the point stands. The hell are these... people?

"Wait a tick," Mal says abruptly, turning to look at the strange raccoon. Scratching his head he ponders the peculiar creature. She watches him, looking left and right "What do you call an animal with two sets of front paws?" Mal asks, giving a brief pause for delivery. "A forerunner!" There was an awkward silence as he holds out his hands. Skitters stared at him for a while, before furrowing her brow, picking up a rock and with a quick toss, nailing him right in the forehead. "Ow!" Holding out his hand, he sends out a green blast, hitting the creature and sending her rolling backwards. "Stone me, will ya? Why I outta..."

Jerk, she thinks, laying on her back, wounds purely superficial.

"Ah'n'gha ahnah uh'enythh! f' ah'n'gha - AAAGH!" Within the wave of demons, there was a cut-off screech as another creature, seemingly eel-like, picked off several Darklings. The pawns were not spawned with cognitive prowess, but they held the reliable belief that anything that attacked you was your enemy. Be that as it may, their aforementioned stupidity made them attempt to repel the eel-thing, leading to further casualties in the villain's side.
As the Darklings were being slaughtered, wave two was hovering over the walls. Large, yellow eyes fitted into the remains of an octopus were gliding towards the group, their gaze threatening to burn a hole into their heads. Dark Gazers, the eyes of the Darkness, are masters of draining the morale of the enemy, but since the enemy was as bull-headed as a rock and as stiff in resolve, they were carrying random assortments of demonic weaponry on their tendrils - spears, swords, morning-stars, ninja-stars and so on - and were throwing them at the adventurers, hoping to pick them off.
John would look up and grumble as a spear impaled the ground beside him. "Bloody Gazers," he would mutter, aiming his shotgun and firing at the hovering eyeballs in the manner of a rich huntsman firing at pigeons who just shat on his garden table. As was the size of the hovering demons, many got a bullet to the eye and descended erratically to the ground, eye closed and oozing a black ichor, letting out an eldritch screech.

As Vargas continued to cut down the wave of Darkling alongside his allies, ninja stars and all manners of weapons were thrown at him and he repositioned himself before more of those weapons could hit his body. In the air, floating eyeballs with tendrils...There was a problem, how did a warrior with a sword cut down floating eyeballs? Simple. You grow wings and meet up with them!

A pair of fiery wing appeared on the back of Vargas before he took to the skies to swing his sword in an upwards strike slicing one of the ‘Gazers’ in half before his body was covered in flames and came crashing down like a human fireball back down on the ground and slammed into a horde of Darklings.

Vargas was now on fire, both literally and figuratively.

"Gazer? I hardly knew her!" the jester quips, before looking up at the dark gazers. His mouth piece crooks, creating a field to block their projectiles, a hollowed clunk as they hit the eldritch field. "Ahf' ymg' ah llll mgr'luh?" ("What are you looking at?") he says, somewhat disgruntled, gazing directly back at one of them that has begun to stare him down, almost as if a direct criticism of his joke. He then fires off his strange, gooey-like green blasts of energy at it.

The raccoon gets back up and decides, perhaps, with everyone distracted, it is time to just head off. Cowardly, sure, but she was no fighter, just a mutated lifeform that wants to remain just that. Walking back she began to back away, turning to run and...

Whump! She bumps into something! Something... white. Looking up she sees a tall figure, Owru, who is staring out at the battlefield with her blue eyes. The hell is this thing!? her mind screams as she flops over in her rump. Owru looks down, her eyes meet with the little mutant, blinking in sequence. With a brief pause, she gasps, her antennae stand up on ends.

"Oh!" she exclaims, her bottom hands on her chest. Before the raccoon could react, Owru scoops her up and hugs the critter. "Aw~! Can I keep it!?"

Keep it!? I am not a pet you... whatever you are! If I could talk, oh..! She yells in her head a while, helplessly struggling against Owru's grip.

"Eh..? Careful, that thing's carrying something weird in it." Mal comments, waving his hand back at Owru.

"Forward, men!" yelled John, as he gave an assaulting Darkling a Bullet Sandwich. "The portal waits inside!" Pushing through the Darkling hordes like a surfer travelling towards deep water, the Chosen Few would make their way into the foothold.
Compared to the towering spires that now held the portal a mile high, the surrounding area was little to be desired. several odd racks held a selection of weapons for when claws and teeth were not viable weapons against the mortal filth. The waves of demons were weakening, as the invading army took into account that a multitude of Darklings held as much sway to the band of heroes as a meringue holds to a brick wall. That would explain that the Darklings were being replaced by something else. Marching out of the portal, the other side distorted by the distance between Grand Gaia and the Darkness being scrunched up like a sheet of fabric, their metal feet stomping the ground to a martial beat, were the Dark Centurions. 10 ton soldiers of black metal, the mechanical footmen were deployed only when the defending world held an army that could survive a mass of snarling claws and teeth, fitted with weaponry that would take out a skyscraper. Upon identifying the Chosen Few, a threat categorised as "0.01% Of Survival", the Centurions opened fire, bullets peppering their general direction. Adam, John, Fancy and Jack flung themselves in their respectable directions, while Max shielded himself with his cybernetic arm as he advanced, and continued the siege.
Meanwhile, somewhere from within the portal, something glides to a safe spot, a small black cloud that was made of more than evaporated liquid. Info has been received that the Chosen Few were invading the foothold, so one of the top demons were sent to intervene.

Bullets? As much as Vargas rather charge through the hail of lead. His resistance to damage already pretty high, with no healers beside him he would be risking his life on a reckless action. But he was already one hot blooded individual, it took a lot more than bullets to slow this hero down!

Raising his arm and sword to defend against the hail of bullets, the fiery headed warrior let out a roar as he charged forward once again. Letting the bullets hit his armor allowing him to not get a load of bullet wounds before he got close. This felt like old times...Only without an army of Gods, and without the hero five heroes. And without a whole army of men and women behind him.

Leaping in, with dynamic fashion and flair, he lands before the cleared way, arms fanning outwards, head raised high. "Another fine victory for greaaaaat heroes, like us!" he exclaims, his tone blatantly mocking. He then shrugs his arms, before taking notice of a weapon rack, picking up a gun and spinning it around. "What is this... seriously..? Wow, they don't make transdimensional horrors like they used to," Suddenly a hail of bullets fly past him, causing him to drop the weapon, snapping to see the clunking monstrosities after taking cover behind one of the racks, creating a drippy green barrier for cover.

"So, can't help but notice, but these guys seem to hate you guys in particular... what'd you guys do? One of you steal their leader's girlfriend or sumthin'? Hahaa~!" he says, with his characteristically facetious demeanor. "No, seriously, they hate you on even the subatomic scale."

Watching the metal monstrosities, he plants his hand onto the ground, channeling into the earth around one of them, causing the ground to ripple and bounce as if it were made of gelatin, turning the general area into something like a birthday bounce house.

Elsewhere, Owru, still holding the mutant slips in as well, poking one of her upper hands where a mouth would be, looking at the various weapons. Unfortunately, she wasn't quite familiar with weaponry... like at all, nor was she the combat savvy aspect, so her first instinct was the pick up whatever and throw it in the enemy's general direction, causing the critter to cringe.

Did you seriously just drag me-! Wh-what are you doing!? The raccoon's mind screams, she grips her head, scratching in utter frustration, before kicking out of Owru's grip, grabbing up a black grenade, pulling the pin, arming it, and tossing it at the oncoming dark centurions.

Soon, a pile of disposed metal was forming from the casualties. One Centurion had it's arm torn off by Max and was then being hit with it. Jack leapt onto one's back like a gremlin, monkey wrench in one hand, tearing at it's back panel and then jamming the wrench into the opened slot. Before it exploded, the confused machine fired behind it, taking out several of its comrades. Adam's sword, which now glowed like a star and rang like a finger along a celestial wineglass, cut through the metallic soldiers like a knife through a dairy product. Fancy flung across the army, jabbing his pencil into their wired necks and hopping to the other one, a bouncing ball among the overwhelmed horde. John reached into one of his pockets, pulling out some strange contraption vaguely approaching a grenade covered in Tesla-coils and wires, pressed some hidden button and then tossed it towards the masses, a wave of electric energy wiping out a rank of the machines.
The black cloud, hiding behind a stack of crates, had now formed into the shape of a skeleton, albeit one made of soot-black bone. It's eye sockets glowed a devilish yellow, it's digits holding a sword seemingly designed by Dante Alighieri. It would spectate the fight with an air of malevolence, mixed with a feeling that it will soon have to intervene.

Vargas gripped Dandelga in his hands tightly as he had closed the distance and began to hack and slash his way through the mechanical robots into multiple pieces. However he heard an all to familiar voice...A certain jester that had decided to help them on their journey...Well help was putting it loosely. They both had similar interests so he helped them destroy one of the Fallen Gods.

Regardless, another familiar face had entered the fight. Although Vargas focused more on cleaving through the robotic menances with the same effort it took to take out the darklings. He did kill Gods after all, and them sending hordes at him back in the days made him used to fighting numbers far beyond his own. Still...He could not help but feel that things were a little too easy at the moment...He remembered to keep his guard up in case someone of a much higher skill level tried to sneak attack them.

Taking a moment to look at the carnage, then at the others. "What? No one else want to take shots at witty banter, heh? Alrighty then, here goes, ahem looks like these darklings just got left in the dark. Nono, wait... darklings? More like ducklings! Or... hm..." he pauses for a moment, rubbing his chin, pondering for a moment.

A grenade explodes nearby Mal, who freezes up before turning to look at Owru, who shakes her head and waves her upper hands, pointing down with her lower two at the raccoon, who stands with arms crossed, eyes narrowed, motioning out as if trying to say, "can I go now?" With a momentary glare at the critter, Mal continues to ponder.

"You know, serious talk guys, this seems maybe a wee bit too easy..."

"That's quite enough, Centurions." This voice seemed oddly familiar. It had the same inflictions of Adam Skelecoot, but more confident and sharp. This sounded like Adam if he had passed the IQ test and got a job as a middle-class heckler.
The source of the voice appeared from behind his hiding spot. He was almost a physical copy of Adam, except for the bones that were seemingly made of a physical shadow. In one hand, a sword emanated a malevolent aura, contrary to Adam's holy weapon. His glaring eye sockets glowed with a hellish yellow.
"I seriously doubted that you weren't going to be involved in the invasion," said the bony apparition. "Looks like you brought a few Edge-dwellers with you as well. Odd that they would stand against their god's second army. Suppose there'll always be rebels, even in the outer skirts of the Imagiverse."
"Odd to see you alone, Dark Adam," said John. "I thought you were going to face us with your others."
"I was just checking to see what was causing the resistance. Considering the, ah, beacon we put on your heads, I wouldn't imagine that you weren't going to protest on our arrival."
The Skeletorian would give him an inquisitive glare. "Oh, so we're your beacons now?"
"Not now, a long time ago. I think it was when your band first joined together and fought us," said Dark Adam, evidently enjoying the looks of outrage among the Chosen Few. "You thought you were defending these new worlds from us? Guess what; you were our ticket in." On this note, he would flourish his sword in the manner of a sword fighting veteran and disappear. A second later, because many deaths have taught the demon not to gloat in battle, He was appearing and vanishing repeatedly, taking a swipe at a hero and de-materialising before they could react. The skeleton's mode of combat was almost like Fancy's, which was to attack and then run away. It was all the band could do to parry and block his attacks.

Their ticket in?...So now they had otherworldly invaders coming in to try and conquer Grand Gaia is that right? This would not stand by Vargas, despite being one of the six heroes. He would be fighting for all of them in their absence! No matter what, he would fight for his home and the people!

Of course, the Evil Adam decided to use more assassin like tactics and did hit and runs against them. Taking swipes at them before vanishing quickly after each attack. Vargas had no choice but to purely remain of the Defense because trying to attack a foe that was going to quickly vanish would be leaving him open.

He had to think outside the box for this one...

"Rebels?" Mal says, appearing and vanishing in similar fashion to that of his foe. He then cracks out in mad laughter. It was clear he was not going to get much of a hit in, but as long as he could dodge the attacks, it would be at least a stalemate. "Oh, I'm sorry, I was under the impression that order wasn't exactly the strongest trait of my... kind. I do so stand corrected... surely such a fine army is well organized, and it was all planned that they behave as brainless animals." He cackles again, blinking out a few more times to his attacks, now in more mocking poses, such as appearing upside down. "Rebel... nah... I think the term more appropriate is... villain![i] Mal'kdet the Ravenous, scourge of the Edge, criminal... villain. Y'know, each of these orbs? They represent some rather troublesome edge dwellers I've... well, to sound crude, devoured, cruder still, I rather boldly wear their essence as trophies!"

Owru found herself too dodging and avoiding each swing, along with her now "friend" who seemed none too happy to even be here. "I don't even know what I'm rebelling against! I hardly remember the Edge! All I remember was the silence, and that's enough to make me want to stay away!" with this she creates a distorted field around herself.

Skitters frantically flails her four front paws in signals. [i]Look, I'm not with these guys, I swear! Stop trying to eviscerate me!

After several blinks and swings, Dark Adam re-materialises on top of a rampart. "Our organisation runs deeper than you think, Edge-dweller. Our armies answer only to our will, and are more than happy to die for our cause. True, the Darklings were not a challenge for the likes of you, but then again, there's always a chink in a paladin's armor." He would then shadow-jump to another wall. "So you haven't heard the voice of the Black Void from Beyond? Or haven't you mortals devised another term to stray from the Unmaker's name?"
Jonathan would take a few potshots at the daemonic skeleton, who would merely blink away and reappear ironically making the gesture to ward of demons with his middle digit. He would retract it and continue. "Either way, don't think you will evade us so soon. As we speak, more portals are being deployed across Grand Gaia. unless you can materialise to every continent, I doubt you will ward off the invasion. If you weren't already at war with your Gods, I would recommend praying to them very soon."
Now he was standing in front of the portal. "Next time we meet, I think I'll bring along my comrades. The air here will do them good - that is, those who can breath. Die with honour, mortals." On that, he would leap backwards into the portal. A harsh, loud buzzing would be heard as the portal begins to shiver. To those who witnessed it, the portal seemed to contract, yet it seemed to grow bigger, a ghostly image of the tear vibrating in the air, causing considerable pain in the eyes.
"Hah," muttered John. "Takes a few swings at us and then runs away. That's the sort of pompous, egomaniac villains you get nowadays-"
"John, the portals imploding."
"Oh yes. Run, you fools!"
The Chosen Few would bail the foothold, which was now lurching inwards towards the portal, giving the impression of a large steel ball distorting the space several yards around the gateway. The spires would have now fallen inwards, as if the Darkness were retrieving the resources used to develop the foothold.