With an extension of his deeply inked arm, Cario grabbed the wooden staff that descended upon him, catching it with the hand that was occupied by the Black Seed. Squeezing hard he felt the seed press against the wood, he gazed into the monks eyes as horror struck him, the staff began to decay age and crack in his grasp. Twisting his hips and ducking down Cario flung the withering staff, along with the helpless monk at the end of it, across the stone floor with unreal strength. 

Taking his attention from the mortal man, he turned to see a flaming rage growing in the spell casters hands. A young man approached from the door, a shining in Cario's third eye revealed his holy presences of light. It was now himself against these five, he thought himself strong enough to escape this feud victorious, but risk was not necessary. The Orc was now on his large feet, the God worshipping monk too. Female archer with an arrow notched, spell caster preparing a fiery onslaught. Then the blonde young man. Perhaps it was best to take this fight to a realm he knew.

Calmly Cario allowed the Black Seed to roll to the floor, it emitted a grey smoke, occasional twitching and rolling over as if possessed. With a brisk rise and fall of his still armoured leg, he crunched his boot down onto it. In an explosion of darkness his leg was encapsulated by an inky mass of black, rising up his body and over his burnt tattooed body with demonic speed. Suddenly it was in every crevice of his body, crawling down his throat and creeping past his eyes. 

In a deep voice, without his lips uttering a syllable, Cario spoke in an abyssal, deep voice.

[color=000000][b][i]Shall we take this fight else where?[/i][/b][/color]

Cario screamed with horrific volume and pitch and rose from the ground, hovering above the stone with all his extremities pointed and stretched wide. As his screaming continued the ink began to fly from his body and stick to the others, as it struck their bodies they were enveloped in a dark mist, a shell of grey. 

Suddenly it ended, and they were all as they had been. There they stood now, in a graveyard of midnight, of endless tombstones and stone blocks, named and unnamed. The sky was a deep purple dotted with black stars and streaking red veins, ten moons hung in the canvas, reds, oranges and blues. 

This was a realm of death, and Cario felt at home.