Artholath ran with the force of blind demonic instinct. Yet those instincts failed him when a massive force crashed into him, both physical and magical in nature.

The assault left him no time to react, and Artholath was thrown by the impact into the ground, smack between two enemies. Strong ones.

"[color=blue]Damn you for this trap Chandon![/color]" he snarled out loud in wheezing breaths in the moments before he would be assaulted again. It was obvious this group not only had a target that was more than the average prey, but defenses that were many times more potent than a single middle-class demon such as himself would be able to handle. He would have never come had he known of [i]this[/i] result.

He had only one option open, and it was a most undesirable one. He lacked the power to fight two enemies on a roll, and was stuck between them in a tight alley - a sure sign of defeat. He would have to use the most extreme option; one of Pyrrhic victory, for though he might escape and leave his enemies a little worse off, he would be hard pressed to survive.

Yet as in all cases, Artholath was willing to take the most bleak way out of immediate destruction. Even with the lack of possibility for his survival.

He concentrated his energies quickly, abandoning limbs in favor of a solid mass of energy filling his demonic chest, making it glow a deep blue color and dropping the temperature of the alley many degrees.

Then he literally exploded, his focus causing his form to be shred and in the center blown to pieces, ice particles and raw cold streaks of blue flying in all directions, and above it all, a deep blue shimmering substance that began to quickly disperse throughout the alley.

And then, a small crater in the ground, demonic parts littering the alley, and a light blue mist that slowly spread and vanished across the alley were all that remained of him.