Bergstadt

Kalson remained behind a pile of burnt rubble with Dyntan, readying his own Pistol should conflict arise, while Karv drew his bow and shouted some declarations of intent. Bloody fool was going to get both of them killed! Karv was demanding that they release some girl the were glaring angrily at, presumably with intent to harm. At least Karv had good intentions. Bit too haughty, though. At that moment in Kalson's thoughts, He heard a soft rustling noise and whispers from an unknown voice somewhere in Karv's general area. He wasn't sure how someone could make it over there so quickly, and without making a bit more noise, but he couldn't dwell on such thoughts for long. He used the unspoken link between Artificer and Creation to command Dyntan to slowly walk out and brandish his Scaldsword. Kalson soon followed suit with his Pistol, and spoke calmly to the stealthy assailant that had now positioned Karv between himself and Dyntan.

"'Ey now, ain't nobody wantin' a fight 'ere. We're just here to search the town, and I be assumin' tha's yer intent 'swell. Please pardon me friend 'ere, he's a bit too proud fer 'is own good, and I must be admittin', you and yer friend over there were lookin' at the wee lass a bit threataninly. But, I be assurin' you that we'll lower our weapons if EVERYONE else'll do th'same."

Now, Kalson was waiting for a response from the assassin.

A loud and deep groan escaped from Johannes’ throat as the cutthroat was now ready to cut the throat of some elf, which would get Athos shot through the head, good riddance really. For a moment he considered waiting around to see it happen, but no. Johannes had had enough. He had expected this man might be of help, he had thought that perhaps the succubus and the other elf had information. But this was getting him nowhere. With an exasperated sigh he sheathed his sword and moved back towards the burned village.

He had let himself get side-tracked, which was disgraceful in its own way. He was a knight of the Black Cross order, not some bush knight eager for adventure. Truly, if someone where ever to chronicle the great tale of how Johannes slayed the evil red headed man, he hoped this part would be let out. Perhaps he should simply tell no one it had ever happened. He was here on a holy quest and it wouldn’t do to dawdle further. He stretched his back slightly, looked around for a few moments to find the route he had taken before entering.

He spared the gathered people a final glance. The succubus, he now realized, he might’ve treated to harshly. Indeed, even calling her a succubus now was rude of him, but she was suspicious and associating with the likes of Athos had made him more cranky than usual. The elves were as he had expected, idiotic and backwards, they deserved the company of Athos and weren’t worth exerting himself over. The dwarf was inconsequential, as was befitting his race. Johannes nodded once to himself, he had made the right decision to leave the band of misfits here before they further stained his honour.

“I am not regretful to announce we shall part ways here. Clearly I overestimated the use you all might’ve posed for my holy quest. The red haired man is even now turning the innocent to ash and, though the idea is tempting, I have no time to stain my blade with your blood. I wish you all… I shall just say I pray for your souls.”

The assassin growled as the barrel of the pistol was leveled at his head. He hadn't expected a gun. Guns were a rarity in the world, few had the mechanical intellect required to operate them or the monetary wealth to afford them. Given that this dwarf had crafted his own construct it wasn't hard to assume he could have some form of firearm. Athos should have suspected that. He should have forseen the possibility and been able to avoid this. As it was he was forced to silently curse himself for his stupidity and set his mind to the task of avoiding a hole in the head.

Athos went over the dwarf's words in his head, inspecting them for weaknesses in seconds. It didn't take long to find a few chinks in the verbal armor.

"You say you're not looking for a fight yet you greet with arrows and threats. Strange don't you think?"

Athos said aloud to the dwarf with the pistol, all the while keeping up the pressure on the elf in his grasp. His tone darkened before he spoke again. The dwarf seemed to be a kind soul, one who earnestly didn't want harm to come to the girl or the elf who Athos had restrained. Kindness, was a weakness.

"Oh and don't threaten, you're not in the position to do so. You may turn my head into a canoe but not before I spill this ones blood all over the ash, give him a grin I don't think he'll soon be rid of."

A single look at the assassin, garbed in black with blade in hand and anyone could see he was telling the truth. He meant to kill that elf should the dwarf seek to end him. It would be his final act on this earth if the dwarf forced his hand. A part of Athos almost wished the tinkerer would shoot, shoot and send him to his beloved.

"You may be willing to kill me dwarf but are you willing to cause the death of this elf as well? All for what exactly? Hmm? A misunderstanding? A case of misjudgment?"

Athos words were intellignet yet cold, like the unfeeling numbers of a death toll.

"Me, I'll kill this man. I'll kill him and should I live, sleep welll tonight. What about you master dwarf? Are you willing to take two lives for no good reason?"

The question posed, Athos awaited the dwarfs response all the while not noticing the paladin taking his leave.

A snort of laughter cut into the air as Drevair released two people on the edge of the ruined town. They weren't all that far away from the group that stood bickering with one another. Shra tilted his head off to the side, grinning wildly at them. Mireene watched each of them with a curious look on her face.

"Are these the ones that Kharun spoke of?" Shra asked, his voice wavering between full on hysterical laughter and curiosity. Mireene looked up to him and shrugged lightly, her hand still in his.

"I was... expecting more," she commented softly.

Her brother released her hand and drew his swords, his body shook from his laughter as he eyed them all, "It's a pity they're fighting amongst themselves. Perhaps we should let them kill each other instead!"

Mireene smiled lightly as she withdrew her flute. Shra ignited his blades as he turned his gaze to see one of them starting to leave the group.

"Heat it up, sister," he commanded and then left her side to confront the one leaving. He leveled his blade at the fully armored man, reaching him in a matter of seconds, "Where do you think you're going? Leaving the party so soon?" Shra laughed, swiped his other sword through the air and ignited the entire edge of the town, essentially giving the group no where to go, unless they wished to try to run from him. Shra silently hoped that they would, a chase was always invigorating.

"I'm sorry," her sweet voice called out then she put the flute to her lips.

Mireene's flute started playing, the sweet sound filling the air and with it, the heat grew. Taking from the fires and also the already hot day, she twisted it around in her magic and made the area a sweltering, melting pot. Shra swung once at the large, armored man and then darted away from him. His laughter followed his movement. The god darted right into the midst of the larger group and lashed out at each of them.

Then his eyes settled on the woman. The fire curling along his blades grew larger and he lunged at her, marking her as his first target to kill.

"I ain't seekin' t'take ANY lives! M'just tryin' t'scare some SENSE into ya! Most people en't fool enough t'keep on doin' whatever 'tis they're doin' when sumun's got a boomstick poin'ed at em'! I'll lower me gun when y'take the knife away from me friend's thro-"

At that moment, Kalson was interrupted by a sudden commotion as a man with red hair and swords aflame swooped in and began attacking the other group. The Woman and the pale Elf managed to dodge away, and the Knight had turned around and was moving to engage the red-haired man. Kalson stared dumbly for a few moments, before becoming imbued with a fury the likes of which he hadn't known since the day he defied his father and set out into the unknown. He commanded Dyntan to charge the red haired man, and Dyntan set off with considerable speed from something so heavily armored, while Kalson stowed his Pistol and retrieved a few other items from his pack that he'd later regret using. He retrieved a Syringe full of a potent substance he was bringing to a local Pugilist as a favor. But that didn't matter now, as the Pugilist was a charred corpse, strung up by his own innared to a lamppost. He injected himself with the syringe and felt his rage amplify tenfold, allowing him to shrug off the pain caused by his admittedly out-of-shape body very suddenly and violently erupting in dense musculature. Before he was completely consumed with rage, he shrugged off his shirt and overcoat, and retrieved a Hull Opener, a large cutting tool meant to dismantle enormous metal constructions. By this time, Dyntan had begun engaging Shra, and the knight was not far behind. With a howl of anger, he charged at Shra, closing the distance much quicker than his dwarven legs should allow, and began to madly hack and swing at the Red Haired Man.

Kain was already regretting his chosen course of action. Of course, he was regretting his earlier carelessness - when he ignored the two people, assuming they were bandits and of absolutely no interest to him - even more. He should have been the one to confront them, to hold the meeting on his own terms. Instead he allowed himself to be consumed by emotions, mostly frustration, and chose inaction. This was far from the first time he made this mistake, supposedly saving time on a pointless action only to end up in worse circumstances because of it. When was he going to finally learn?

What he said was partially true. The heated words about the Triumvirate and elvenkind were what any sufficiently brave elf would say. That is, provided his people didn't do a face-heel turn sometime during the two or so centuries he avoided all contact with them. Dwellers of the woods, elves did value any life more than humans, especially the brainwashed servants of three 'true' gods. But they valued it differently from said humans, as well, possibly appearing strange or even cruel at times. Nevertheless, they never got to the point of waging 'holy' wars against others.

Except none of that really mattered to Kain, it hadn't for a long time. Unfortunately, he would now have to pretend it did, since he pretended to be a normal elf. Which was, once again, the fault of his carelessness. The knight caught him by surprise, in a way, and he hadn't had the time to think of anything better. Of course, he instantly found another fault with this excuse: he didn't actually have to answer quickly. It was him who rushed with a response where it might have been better to stall for time and devise a different plan. He made some mistakes, but nothing would change from regretting it now. He could always reconsider his decision, but revealing anything about his true self at this point would lead to the worst possible outcome.

"Truly you are a man of virtue, sir knight." Kain smirked. He didn't actually need the knight unharmed to have him 'share' his knowledge. "You threaten to kill an unarmed woman for dressing athwart to your convictions, yet you make merry with an assassin. Who, apparently, talks people to death." He had almost forgotten how annoying mortals could be, with all their self-importance and petty troubles. While he lacked information, the group beside him was completely ignorant of the importance of what happened in Bergstadt. To them, it was just a slaughter of innocents, but he had seen it was much more than that.

The blond considered himself to be a very patient individual. He had to be, or he would have grown tired of life long ago. The question whether he was actually alive or not didn't matter at the time; he moved of his own will and was capable of rational thought, and if that didn't mean he was alive, then nothing would. Of course, he had quite a few interesting things to occupy himself with. He learned everything he could get his hands on. History, languages, other sciences. He lacked the aptitude to succeed in some of them, but he made sure to record everything in his head. What interested him the most were ancient and forbidden magicks. Unfortunately, those were not many.

Even with free access to limitless information, he would have given up on life if he had no patience. He would have fallen into an eternal slumber somewhere he wouldn't be disturbed. But he did no such thing; he tolerated people, the world and his own shortcomings, persevering in his goal. He considered himself very patient, and level-headed. Not fearing death, he was automatically freed of many instincts and emotions that polluted the minds of mortals. Having nobody but himself to care for, he couldn't be pressured. He was not born with a lot of talent, but no mortal could compare to him simply due to his massive experience and knowledge. But even being superior, he could be overwhelmed with sheer numbers. What allowed him to prevail so far were clear judgment and patience.

Then another elf appeared, interfering with arrogance and ignorance that rivaled that of the knight. His boastful gesture was cut short by the assassin, and for a moment Kain thought he would have loved to see the throat of his former kinsman sliced open. But a dwarf interfered, the assassin growled back, someone else started lurking nearby and the walking tin can spouted off some more self-righteous nonsense. The elf considered himself a very patient person, but even he had his limits.

"Enough!" He said, his voice booming and reverberating around the area akin to thunder. "Do you mortals ever cease your senseless bickering?! Here you are, each seeing yourself as this world's future savior, but all of you are completely ignorant of what's really going on here!" He looked around at every other person present. What possible reason could they have to visit this cursed place if not to seek the truth? The alternative was to plunder, but even a blind man could see there was nothing left.

"The creatures responsible for this are completely alien to what we know." He continued in a loud but no longer magically enhanced voice. "Their origin is a mystery, but they defy everything you recognize as natural. Even the laws of magic bend to their will." He made a tiny pause, watching how everyone reacted to his words. "You act so arrogantly when you might not even be capable of understanding just what you are dealing with. You, unthinking zealot, what will you do when a ravine suddenly opens up beneath your feet? And what good will your sniveling do, assassin, when the very air in your lungs turns to flame?" He had intended to point out a glaring fault in Valeria, as well, but so far, she was actually acting rather humbly.

"None of you could hope to slay any of these creatures even if you were to sacrifice yourselves in the process. What if you had to face three at once?" Kain was nearing the end of his speech. He had actually calmed down on the inside soon after he started berating this group, but he was only now lowering his voice to normal. "I loathe to admit it, but even I could only face one of them. Frankly, as it is now, our world is doomed." He decided it was time for a little honesty and despair.

"But it is not exceptional agility, strength or savagery that allowed sentient life to survive and multiply for centuries. Our greatest asset is our ability to adapt. Right now, adapting would be uniting against a common threat that appears set on eradicating all life." Kain said that sentence in a completely calm voice. They needed harsh words and despair to shake them free of their foolishness, and now they needed hope and inspiration in order to do the right thing. "I do not believe us meeting here - all of us - is a mere coincidence. We have all been guided here together, at the same time. Call it divine providence, fate or whatever you want; it matters not. We are all very different, but all of us are rather exceptional." He gave them a few moments to let all that sink in, smiling on the inside. All the talent in the world had nothing on his experience.

"What say you? Will you unite your strength, despite your differences, in hopes of saving all life? Or will you drown in arrogance and die in vain?" Those words, the choice, the final ultimatum was the perfect finishing touch to his previous words. He had gotten their attention, crushed their hopes and lifted their spirits. His words would leave them in a state of confusion, where they wouldn't be able to methodically analyze them all. At that point, were they to be presented with some form of choice, with no hints at a third option, they would be inclined to make it. Kain didn't take any of these people for saints - except maybe Valeria in her childish innocence - but it appeared all of them were driven by good intentions, if misguided. The assassin was the exception, but even he couldn't ignore a threat to his own life.

Almost as soon as he was done talking, the elf's senses alerted him to two new presences in the area. Their appearance was absolutely without warning, much worse than the assassin's. The cloaked man could obscure his position somehow, moving erratically from spot to spot, but his presence was constant. These two simply materialized in that very spot. Ordinary magic was out of the question: even a weak teleportation spell could be felt rather far from the destination, at least by a mage as proficient as himself.

"Make your decisions quickly." He said. "They're here." He saw clearly the red-haired man with twin blades going for the knight first. He didn't look that frightening to a normal person, being neither very tall nor outstandingly muscular. But what Kain felt would throw anyone who still feared death in a stupor. The man's power was enormous, violent, destructive... magnificent. If only he could consume his life, to take this power for himself... then even calling himself a god wouldn't be too arrogant. What if he could consume three of them? Or all of them, if there are more? Three times this much power, coupled with his vast knowledge and experience, and all of Drevair could become his toy to do with as he pleased.

But of course, if he hoped to make this power his own, he could not act carelessly. He needed to watch these beings carefully, learn their abilities, behavior and the best way to dispose of them. And he would certainly need to make use of his potential allies, at least to distract the other creature, if nothing more. His speech earlier may have shaken them up, but it wouldn't earn him their trust. There was only one way to do so, unfortunately, even if it held certain danger. Under different circumstances, he wouldn't permit himself such actions, but in this case, he felt the risk was justified.

As the 'man of crimson' dashed for Valeria, Kain could see him rather clearly. This was no god, only a man imbued with unique power. He was still largely a mystery, but his face betrayed very ordinary, if rather perverse, emotions. And if he was no god, then he could be killed. That was all he needed to know, really. The fake god's main abilities appeared rather straightforward as well; control over fire and martial prowess. He needed no genius strategy to be defeated. The blond stepped forth, conjuring a stream of water to knock back the assailant. Before he could continue, however, the dwarf interfered. It was just as well; the other 'god' appeared more troublesome anyhow.

A magic of different kind caused heat to rise in the area. Kain wouldn't be bothered just as long as it wasn't enough to set him on fire, but he didn't want to reveal his hand just yet. That and he needed to consider the well-being of his 'friends' - it would be pointless to let them die so soon. However, devising a counter-spell for this rather unusual magic would take time he didn't have; someone had to buy some.

"Elf, shoot the other one!" He shouted to the archer, who, during his long introduction, forgot to mention his name. His 'order' would obviously be heard by the red-haired being, and that meant one of four things. He might rush back to protect his comrade; this was unlikely. He might attempt to remove the threat; this was most likely. He might grow angry at the 'leader' and assault Kain himself; this was also likely. Or he could ignore that completely and attack them seemingly at random as before. The blond was prepared to act in the case of the more likely options, while the first was preferable since it would remove the immediate threat for a short time. The last possibility was a bit problematic, but he hoped the people chosen by their respective societies for this mission would be capable enough to not die right away.

The Knight, somewhat made her angry. It is very rare to see herself angry, but this man...He was an exception. He had taken a step forward and yelled, “Accusations! How dare ye! What am I supposed to think, with you dressed as a harlot gallivanting around in the ruins of a town with some wispy Elf! No decent woman would do such a thing! This is all your fault for being so suspicious!” His words were harsh, and cruel. She could tell he wanted to spit on her and her religion, but Sia teaches us to be forgiving towards the weak. She did not blame him for his religion, because it is what he truly believes. If he thought that she was a harlot, then that is his choice to think of such things. She wanted to scream at him, saying that he doesn't know who she is, she wanted to burn his helm into a crumbling mess over his skull. But she didn't, because she knew that would be wrong, she would of gone against Sia's teachings, but also she wouldn't forgive herself for harming someone that did nothing to her. She stood there, silent and with her gaze at the ground. She could still feel the knights eyes, staring down at her in shame.

“What of this Halfer and his tree-hugger friend? Truly an unholy union if ever there was one. Don’t tell me they are the pair who did this?” He had continued, his voice somewhat calmer of how he spoke to her. The assassin answered with a chuckle, probably at the rage of the knight? This made Valeria smile, she lifted her head up and regained herself. "Ah... quaint but no, big man. No I think our late arrivals are others such as ourselves." The assassin had said, eyeing Valeria with those golden eyes again, it may seem stupid but she had gotten used to the man's gaze. Until he spoke again, "Or perhaps traveling rapists come to plunder any bountiful young maidens they may happen across. And you certainly are bountiful aren't you?..." This made her red at her cheeks, just the thought...NO! Stop it Valeria! You musn't think of such things! she had thought to herself. The man had seemed to take joy in telling her such things, this made him more annoying than the knight. So she decided to ignore his honeyed words.

"Gentlemen, you are currently in the aim of one of the greatest archers that graced the earthly plains of Dreivar! This bow I clasp in my very hands is enchanted, and therefore no mere wooden lump for a simple huntsman, and it is not the only thing that is enchanted! I recommend you all step back from the gorgeous young lady who's beauty would make the Triumvirate tosser here reconsider his religious views, before you all suddenly highly resemble a hedgehog." There standing just a distance away was an elf, wielding a bow which was taller than the elf himself and he was ready to shoot. She was flustered, being called 'gorgeous' and 'beautiful' was flattering, but was just something about him that didn't seem right. Something that made her want to run away from the sight of him. In a flash the assassin appeared behind the bowman and held a dagger to his throat saying something which Valeria didn't quite hear. And then a dwarf appeared, he seemed quite clad gizmo's and small trinkets wielding some sort of...weapon? He aimed the device of some sorts to the assassin's head, things were getting quite dangerous and fragile.

Then, the knight started to walk away, saying something before he took a step away, “I am not regretful to announce we shall part ways here. Clearly I overestimated the use you all might’ve posed for my holy quest. The red haired man is even now turning the innocent to ash and, though the idea is tempting, I have no time to stain my blade with your blood. I wish you all… I shall just say I pray for your souls.” Then he started to walk towards the edge of the forest, a lost soul searching for help. Her impression of knights are no longer kept to them being strong, 'defenders of the weak' or chivalrous but sad...

A flaming sword struck at the armour of the knight, he jolted back taken by surprise. Valeria wanted to go and help the knight, but something haunted her from moving. Crimson... she had thought, it was the same man that killed the girl in her vision. But why come back? Then the forest started to light up in flames, and Valeria heard a chilling song in her ears. It was starting to get hot, to hot for her liking. Then the crimson man swiftly made his way into the centre of the group, Valeria quickly regained herself and jumped backwards, barely missing the slashing blade. Red eyes suddenly fixated onto her, she was out into the open, with no one to help her, frozen she stood there as the man came dashing towards her, the look of insanity spread across his face. He was close, then a figure came in front of her, it was the dwarf, but he seemed different, he had abnormal muscles for a dwarf seemed to be full of rage as he began to charge at the man. Valeria was filled with adrenaline and began to run towards the knight, she didn't know why. Maybe she still had feelings for knights, or maybe she just felt safe?

Fear would have been the appropriate response. Fear and terror, either which would have made sense. To stand before such beings, such forces of nature as this any mortal creature, elf, dwarf, man or otherwise should fall to their knees in terror or flee in panic. Yet as Athos stood taken aback at the sight, releasing the elf in his grip as he did so, he witnessed bravery, strength, strategic thinking born of circumstance, even self sacrifice. The dwarf who risked his own body by injecting himself with a syringe that twisted and contorted his body into some sort of hulking brute form. The woman who rushed to the knights side after he abandoned her and everyone else only moments prior. The noble elf who berated the group with an impassioned speech before barking out sound orders like a battlefield general.

The fear that the assassin should have felt was absent, in it's place was something he had not felt in a very, very long time, hope. These few assembled could do this. They could best these false gods, these men and women who thought themselves divine. Initially that was where Athos drew his courage and self reliance from for this task. The idea of killing a god may seem daunting until you realize there is no such thing as gods. No, this is a truth Athos had known for years and years, fitting he had been hired for this task.

As the primary focus seemed to be on the more dangerous of the two, the fire wielder, Athos turned his attention to the music player. The innocent looking girl peacefully playing her death song on her flute as her ally brought fire and steel to bear. That song, the tune seemed to fill ones minds and fill it with dread. Inaction was easy when panic set in, yet to look upon the Crimson Man he seemed full of vigor and vitality. Perhaps it didn't affect him or worse, did the opposite and made him stronger, in which case...

Athos vanished from sight, stepping into the world of the unseen as only he could. The no where man began to move, silently teleporting across the battlefield somewhat erratically to ensure that by chance if these powerful magic users could somehow keep track of him they would not be able to focus on him for long. The assassin moved like a vengeful spirit, a ghost come for blood. Closer now he came, so near the white haired music player he could almost smell her sweet scent. The tiny woman, petite in stature seemed so innocent, so harmless to be contributing to the utter desolation around her. To see her standing in her pristine white dress in the charred ruins of the burnt city playing her sad song was almost beautiful.

Blade poised ready to strike, death loomed over the musician. The golden eyes of the killer fixed on her as her own eyes were closed and almost serene as she played away on her flute. The unseen hand reached out menacingly, fingers almost twitching with killer intent. The other hand gripped a razor sharp dagger, pulled back ready to burrow into it's victim like the fangs of a serpent. He would let her see him before it was done, he would let her see what death looked like. The hand reached its target and grabbed hold and as his fingers wrapped around the flute he allowed his cloak of invisibilty to melt away revealing for her the horrible truth of her circumstance.

Standing before her, shrouded in black with eyes of gold stood the killer of men, the assassin Athos Lorio. His left hand gripping the flute in the young woman's hands ceasing her playing. His other held his dagger poised to plunge it into her skull.

"Your song of death is beautiful, let me play you mine..."

With that he thrust forward.

Valeria had reached the knight, and thankfully he was unharmed by the man in crimsons blow. Valeria sighed in relief, she was relieved to see the knight safe. But she does not know why, caused by some unknown feeling in the bottom of her heart? The knight looked at her and said firmly, “Stand behind me and no harm shall befall you.” She did as he asked quickly and stood behind him, she was suddenly calm hearing his voice. She stood just a few steps behind the knight, trying to pull her ears away from that terrible music, but still she kept her gaze on the knight. He pulled out his gleaming sword, and started to chant something religious. After the first verse his sword started to glow, then the shield and then his armour. He was like a divine light shining through an eternal darkness, he seemed like he was given power by some divine force.

He turned briefly only to say, “My name is Johannes and you will be safe behind me.” She could feel a tone of bravery on his voice, and then he began to charge off towards the crimson demon. Johannes... That is the name of the knight, it turns out that he is like the knights in the story books. Strong, Brave and Defenders of the weak...

She watched helplessly as Johannes was battle locked with the crimson man, she felt like she could do anything, if she would conjure up her magic it may hit one of her comrades. Comrades... thinking of it in that way feels strange, but it would of happened in the end, these people have come here to achieve a shared goal, to find out what is going on, to stop the flowing of the blood of innocents. She wanted to keep herself safe, but she wanted to keep run. Her comrades are going up against the thing that did this... She couldn't bring herself to look at his face, this will truly be something that will haunt her for the rest of her life, the face that inflicted so much horror and death into the minds of the people who called this city home...

Annikar's nose twitched at a new scent and she whirled about to face the new figures. They were even stranger then the others, the way they moved and spoke, brimming with the confidence that only came from sheer strength and power. And then the man with crimson hair swung his sword and the fire blazed up in an eyeblink. That was all the indication Annikar needed.

But she waited for a moment, in order to see how these gods would fight. The man already showed an incredible display of magic, but the girl was still a mystery. She played a flute, as if the battle was not at all important. But then Annikar began to feel the temperature rise, far above even the heat being given off by the flames. She grimaced and shifted about uncomfortably, she was unaccustomed enough to heat without her armor. This would have to be ended quickly. Especially before one of these fools could possibly have the stroke of luck needed to slay one of the god first and steal her glory.

After she saw the crusader distract the crimson man, Annikar unsheathed her sword in one swift motion, hoping that the scraping metal sound would be lost amidst the raucous and flames. She quickly made her way towards the girl with the flute, weaving between the wreckage of burned out homes. When one of the other strangers appeared in an eyeblink behind the girl, Annikar paid him no heed. It was the only distraction she needed as she jumped onto the top of a pile of ash and bricks, then leaped off with inhuman grace, her sword raised over her head to strike down at the mysterious girl as she landed beside her.

There was no thought, only rage.
There was no aim, only rage.
There was no goal, no objective, no end to be reached, only rage.

Some part of Kalson suspected that this unholy anger was more than just his own natural rage, or even fully the work of the alchemical serum he so foolishly and impulsively took into himself. For a split second, even as he was swinging madly at the red haired man with his vicious power tool, scoring glancing blows against the fiend while suffering occasional burns, he noticed that even while he'd shed most of his bags and removed his shirt and overcoat, the bag into which he'd absentmindedly stuffed his dead uncle's hand and pistol was still very securely tied around his waist. That wasn't where he'd put the bag, but he didn't ponder this any longer. The mere reminder of his uncle spurned him to strike at the red haired man with greater fury. By this point, he wasn't very conscious of where his blade was swinging so long as it went somewhere in the direction of the red haired man. He didn't even notice the gaping slash across Dyntan's chest plating, jagged edges the telltale signs of a Gerrigadrian Hull Opener. But...

There was no concern, only rage.

The battlefield was chaos, plain and simple. Kain would have secured himself the role of the leader of this colorful group, but the gods' sudden arrival threw a wrench in that. More importantly, he hadn't had the time to establish some sort of order among his 'comrades', so everyone was off doing their own thing. While all of them were skilled in their own way, no doubt, they hadn't yet learned to work together at all. In fact, they were probably getting in each other's way more than anything.

The dwarf - whose sudden change in appearance was a different matter - jumped in front of him when he was ready to face the 'fire god', while the assassin chose to assault the female 'god' from the front even though he would certainly interfere with the archer's aim by doing so. Valeria had done even better: she ran and hid behind the knight, who was incidentally the only one of the group to actually threaten her so far. That girl had more than a few screws loose, but more importantly, she had no place in a fight. He could have guessed as much with a single glance at her - this was not the case of a misleading appearance. She didn't turn out to be the kind to pull through in a tight spot, either.

While Kain's initial idea to get the male god's attention didn't exactly work out, partly because of the group's uncoordinated actions, the same result was achieved thanks to the assassin and another person, the one who kept herself hidden earlier. The white-haired girl screamed, and the red-haired man came to her rescue. He fended off her two assailants and surrounded her with a wall of flame, probably for protection. The elf watched this rather closely; what may have looked like minor details or coincidences to others were all clear signs for him. He managed to deduce several things from his observation. Some of them could seem obvious, but he knew assumptions were a bad idea when dealing with the unknown.

For one, the 'gods' appeared inclined to help each other in trouble, even when it was likely more rational not to. They appeared not only to possess different abilities, but sharply different skill sets. No normal person could have dodged the assassin's strike, but the girl's response was retreat, not a counter-attack, where the man chose assault. More specifically, the girl had done nothing but use unusual spells with the medium of her flute, while her companion only used manipulation of fire and his twin swords. Both of them had already been harmed - if only lightly - and Kain didn't think either of them was faking their emotions, especially the man with his rage. That raised a question: why had these two, who called themselves gods, not used any different or greater powers against the group yet?

He couldn't be completely certain, but it seemed like they couldn't do anything else. They had certain powers and that was it. This simple fact could significantly tip the scales of this clash, and the whole affair with the gods for that matter. Once you knew the limits of your opponent, defeating them was only a matter of devising a way to exploit said limits. There were times when the difference in power was too great for any strategy to offset, of course, but their situation wasn't like that. The fact they weren't all dead - in fact, none of them were even seriously hurt yet - was proof enough. There was another thing he noticed, but it wasn't going to make a big difference at this point.

The course of action was clear: take out the weak link. What he needed now was a way to bypass the wall of flame. Going through himself was likely a bad idea, considering what happened to Bergstadt. Try to get her with a spell? The gods were arrogant, but he wasn't going to assume they were stupid; the barrier was meant to protect her well, and Kain had displayed use of magic before. He could hardly imagine a wall of fire doing that, but a lot of things about these beings defied what he knew to be true. It guarded her against direct assault and likely magic, but what about something different?

Kain broke into a run toward the two gods and two people. He grabbed a good boulder, about the size of his head, as he moved along. What he was about to do was going to betray his abnormal, especially for his 'wispy' - as the good knight described him - build, strength, but there were more important things at stake than keeping that hidden. Going around the three engaged in combat, he cast his 'weapon' at the white-haired female, aiming for her head. The stone didn't follow the 'lazy' path that one might expect, going up only to fall down later. Instead, it whizzed right towards its target, no slower than a throwing knife.

Rage was a funny thing. Anyone who fancied themselves a skilled warrior found it easy to belittle it, to damn it as the actions of the foolish or careless. To see it as only a savage, wild, haze that blinded the warrior in combat yet this was only to see its faults. Rage, as all things, had its strengths. Rage made you fearless, it made you strong and unflinching. Rage turned a ordinary man into a beast that consumed all in its path. To stand before rage was terrifying and chaotic, fear crept into the hearts of those standing against rage.

Such strength rage provided that as his fiery transformation took hold the swirling blades of hell fire, slashing wildly in all directions ended Athos' lightning fast attacks. In the brief moment when he appeared beside the fire bearer one of the blades struck the assassin. The fire seemed to erupt on impact sending Athos flying backwards, to tumble through the ash of Bergstadt, his armor hissing from the heat. Fortunately for the assassin while the blow was savage it did not strike anything vital. The red hot blade of the Crimson Man, wreathed in flame, sliced cleanly through the assassin's black armor leaving a nasty gash along his chest. While a shallow wound the skin and flesh sizzled with heat. Athos gritted his teeth in pain as his body exploded with the pain that accompanied the wound.

That strength born of rage, while powerful, did blind one. It blinded the Crimson Man to two things. It blinded him to the separation he was putting between himself and his kin. Even as a third "god" appeared calling for an end to the duel the rage in the Crimson Man's heart muted the words and they went unheeded. The second thing it blinded him to was something much more subtle. It blinded him to the body language of the assassin as he rose from the dirt where he fell.

The Crimson Man coated his body in flame, like armor born of fire it covered his body from head to toe. The man on fire stepped forward, igniting the very earth with each step. Wicked glee poured fourth from the maw of the fire deity.

"Come here, little human, lets see you fight me now."

The words were dripping with malicious intent, as if some great predator was speaking to its wounded prey. Yet the predator seemed to not notice that the prey was not running any longer. His evasion had ceased, his erratic blinking had come to an end after the viscous blow. He stood staring down the fire god with eerie calm as his own blood dripped down his dark visage. Beneath that black mask of his Athos Lorio smiled. The grin rivaled the fire gods malice in full.

"As you wish."

Was all he said before he too coated his body in a protective aura of his own. Where the Crimson Man allowed his body to be consumed by flame the assassin's body was consumed by nothingness. His body vanished from the world of the visible and walked now among the unseen. Unlike before he did not reappear elsewhere but remained hidden. The Crimson Man for all his power and rage could burn cities to the ground, scorch the earth with a touch, hack young women in two but could not fight what he could not see.

The blade cut through the air, tip aimed for the base of the fire gods spine. The volcanic heat would no doubt melt the blade once it hits its mark but it mattered not. Once lodge firmly in the back of the Crimson Man's neck it would have served its purpose. Athos put all his strength and silent speed into the unseen thrust as he stood behind the man on fire, ready to kill a god.

He shifted slightly, catching sight of the oncoming projectiles that were aimed at him. He waited for the arrows to get just close enough and then moved his weapon. The blade lifted, fell and moved from side to side. Only the flat of the weapon was used, redirecting the arrows as they came at him in a rush. Layien had to give the one who shot at him some respect. There were very few who were gifted with such speed.

The sound of steel arrow heads hitting his blade was almost a constant as he stood there, protecting Mireene who had raised her flute once more to fuel both men then.

"That stroppy red git of a swordsman and the enticingly beautiful musician there aren't the only one with speed better than the average warrior!"

To this, Layien raised an eyebrow as he continued to defend, never moving far and only moving his sword to deflect the attack, "Seems he likes you, Mireene. Pity we have to kill them."

"I don't like him," she responded shortly, taking the flute from her lips for that mere moment and then playing on again. Layien's lips pulled into a smirk at her response. His magic swirled around him, growing tired of the constant barrage of arrows. The air shifted and he flicked the fingers of his free hand opened over the edge of his blade. A burst of wind expelled from him, going through the arrows and straight for the archer who was attacking him.



He'd lost track of the man, a most annoying thing. However, he didn't really care because no matter what, his body was a burning inferno and the fool would be stupid to think of getting close to him without getting burned. As he stood there, the shadows from the fires all around began to grow quickly and in a near instant everything around Shra was pitch black. He felt rather than saw Kharun right behind him. The man's back just barely brushed his own. Right after Kharun appeared, cold steel cut along the back of his neck.

Startled, Shra shifted, moving off to the side even as the blade was moved. The wound was deep, but not life threatening. Even so, just the thought that the man had nearly killed him was enough to enrage him.

Kharun squeezed tightly around the wrist of the assassin who'd almost made his mark. His lips were pulled into a smile as he gripped the other tightly, having shifted the direction of the attack just in time. His darkness lingered there around them for a long while.

"Cannot attack what you cannot see," Kharun said slowly, "Seems you and I share the same thoughts."

Kharun pulled the assassin closer, just long enough to ask him, "But do your abilities rival mine? We shall see, Athos."

Releasing him, Kharun stepped back and the darkness disappeared along with him and the other three Gods. Once again it was like they'd never been there.

The hand reached fourth from the darkness gripping tight the hand of the assassin. Salvation came for the fire god that day in the form of shadow stopping shadow, darkness standing against darkness. As the vice like grip of Kharun held Athos fast the golden eyes of the killer of men pierced the cloth where the shadow gods eyes should be. The two seemed to stare at each other, despite ones apparent lack of sight. The mortal man and the god, eerie reflections of one another. The only true difference between the two were their motivations.

Athos listened well to the shadow gods words as he held him, the assassin's blade still dripping the blood of the fire gods from the wound that could have so easily been the last wound Shra would ever suffer. Yet it was when he spoke his name that Kharun truly pierced the veil of Athos' psyche. Through the quagmire of darkness and ire that was the mind of the assassin this being seemingly knew him, or at the very least knew of him. To think that this being had seen something of a rival in him was an odd thing. Fear mixed with determination and the fire of a worthy challenge burned within the mortal man as the god vanished with his kin in tow.

Athos did not move, did not speak for several moments. Clutching his wrist that throbbed with pain from the iron grip of the god he seemed lost within his own minds contemplation. This latest god, above all others would be his test. The shadow god and the assassin had began a journey in that moment. A journey that could only end with blood in the darkness. From whom the blood would fall remained to be seen but for now the assassin was left with a promise of a challenge to come. A challenge he would meet with all his skill and the true master of shadow would be revealed. The question posed rang out in his mind until finally Athos spoke within the confines of his own thoughts his reply. Yes we shall...

Finally returning to the hear and now, Athos seemed to finally realized the pain he was in. He gritted his teeth, almost falling to his knees as his unwounded hand clutched his chest that was still bleeding. The fresh burns cauterized the wound for sure but the wound, while mostly been by the heat, still oozed red. His chest seemed to scream in pain yet he silently bore his agony as he inspected his hand. Fortunately the shadow walker did not break his wrist, which seemed like he could have done easily, yet the fragile bones within his wrist ached with soreness and fresh bruises. He would need to bind his wrist as well as his chest. The assassin needed a healer and relatively soon before he continued his journey to kill the so called gods.