Snippet #2454238

"Y-You are on my s-side? T-Thank you mister, my name is Myon. I am Mistress Aera's soul. I do not think I could have defended Mistress Aera by myself. I-I was afraid at first as you give off the same aura as them."

Pravus's shadow cast over them, he listened to Myon's words with great focus. He managed to shut out a strange shrill scream which had echoed out from behind him. He was mildly impressed that she could tell his similarity to the shadow warriors currently doing battle a short ways off from them, just far enough that they were somewhat out of the general melee. Even still, none of this was far off from the general far he has had when dealing with spirits.

"Please assist Mistress. I'm incapable of lifting her. If you find yourself in danger, don't play hero though, just put Mistress down and save yourself. It isn't the first time she and I have died in battle."

He had no intention of letting the spirit's mortal half die out of self preservation. He would perform his duty until his death. Torch Bringer only knows he's been due for one for a long time now. He was however even more curious about her and her mortal self after the mention of their past deaths. The plot thickens. He made note of that detail, planning on asking a few questions as to this strange situation this one swordswoman has been placed in.

The spirit proceeded to scream, exclaiming at the rat he made note of earlier. Before he could yet act he was joined at this side of the field of war by a strange ape person and a magus of some unknown variety. The ape attempted to use some sort of alchemical weapon on the corrupt rat before leaping to safety and the magus spread a wave of flames at it. The chemicals simply washed away off the unnatural plague rat's face and the flames were buffeted back by a sickly gas conjured by the rodent.

"Get her out of here, I'll cover your retreat!" The magus yelled back to them. Though the rat monstrosity had shown no interest in him nor the spirit's fallen body it was still a welcome gesture if it meant an early grave for the putrid wretch that the rodent was. It seemed that their attacks were being rebuffed however, a concerning detail he would need to attend to when Myon's situation was no longer a pressing matter. The rat had discarded it's clothes, revealing it to be some sort of feeding ground for parasites and insects of numerous variety. It started to direct this swarm attached to it using the mace as a form of scepter of command, the insects responding to it like an orchestra responds to the maestro.

Pravus nodded to the magus in response. "If fire fails, try drowning it's swarms with water.
If that fails, the water will still serve me well." He suggested to the magus. He was already plotting the rat's demise,
numerous ideas coming to mind on how to put a stop to this living pestilence.
Most of these ideas involved a key element: Mud. Luckily the ground was still moist from the magus's earlier rainstorm.
With additional water the ground would be wet enough to be ideal.

He could feel Myon physically gripping him, urging him to move away from the plagued creature before them. This spirit didn't need to have the capability to interact with solid matter in order to touch him and vice versa. His natural gift from birth allowed him to both perceive, speak to and even physically touch spirits. If needed, he could combat a ghost if he was forced to. There was occasions when the restless spirits of the dead influenced by the natural necromantic aura of Sed would attack him in their confusion and despair. He defended himself each time, making sure to try and drive off the ghost rather than simply beat it down. To be a Grave Tender was to show mercy to the dead no matter how angry the spirit was. His role was to pacify them, to show them the respect they need.

Stepping over to Mion's fallen physical portion he knelt down onto one knee. He set his arms underneath the girls muddied body, lifting her from the ground and gently carrying her in a bridal carry. Carrying her body required care as she was gravely wounded and carrying her as he did the dead body before him would cause blood to flow improperly. This way was the safest way to transport the body even though it occupied both his hand's doing so. With the body of the swordswoman in his arms he strode back to the Nameless's lines with heavy gravitas.

As he walked along the field of battle, his attention primarily to the health of the girl he held, a couple shadow's had strayed from their mass to pick on easy prey. It was undeniable that they were both quite vulnerable at this very moment. Before they could reach them both however a divine barrier sprung forth to guard their return. The long swords of the few shadows hammered against the sphere in their attempt to get to them through this new protection. Pravus was moving as fast as he could safely move with the wounded swordswoman in his grasp and it was still barely faster than these shadow's jogging pace. It seemed as though the weapons were about to penetrate the shielding when he came up to the source of their protection: a strange looking priestess sitting atop an ogre casting healing into the ranks of the nameless.

He figured that this strange woman could heal the swordswoman, solving the problem at hand for him. As the clanging of long swords rang out around him he slowly set the body back down onto the ground, taking what seemed like forever as the divine protection surrounding them gave out before these shadow's onslaught. With a calculated calm as soon as his arms were free of the girl he spun around to face the two assailants. Using the speed and momentum of his turn he swung his shovel downwards from an overhead swing, causing the warrior to bring it's shield up, guarding it's face from the attack. By bringing it's shield in front of it's face it was now blind to his true intent as his arc dipped sharply downwards, slicing straight through the shadows thigh. The arterial spray from the wound painted the already blood coated shovel with a fresh layer to drip along the edges.

It's comrade swung wildly at him with a downward cut towards his head. He responded to this uncontrolled maneuver by stepping out of the swords range, his shovel in position in case he misjudged the swords distance. He wasn't wrong as the blade missed him, giving Pravus ample time to retaliate. He feigned a shot towards it's leg, causing the shadow to drop it's shield so that it wouldn't suffer the same fate as the other one. With an opening created he thrust the shovel's head clean through it's neck, sending the pitch black head rolling off. With an off hand strike he finished off the first shadow whom was trying to surprise him from the ground with a shovel to the helmet's face opening.

With their recent foes dispatched he turned his attention back to the unusual looking priestess. Dropping to his knees he reached down and lifted the body of the girl once again. This time however he held her wounded self up to the priestess in order to show her what he wants her to heal. "Priestess! Please heal this woman for she is wounded." He called out to the priestess atop her mighty ogre. Hopefully his words got across to her but even if she didn't speak his language the fact he was yelling to her would draw her attention. After that, this wayward warrior's health would lie upon the whims of the healer. Pravus simply remained, a pedestal to support the body while the priestess performed her divine magic's upon her.