The inkiness, as it desperately grasped out to envelop the ragged man, recoiled in pain at the light of the divine flames - a spell sanctified by no god, but the pure divinity of nature itself in the form of sacred fire - faded and fought as it rolled in a turbulent dusky mist, altering the world around into a realm unfamiliar; a plane of infinite death, of infinite hopelessness.

Revealed once more, the spellcaster swung wide his hand, fingers spreading and allowing the fire to cut through the opposing magic, granting him sight in brief. Glancing to one shoulder and the next, he found himself among innumerable headstones and a sea of despair in a demiplane of wickedness and utter decay. All here was vile, but nothing in it could compare to the fervor the mantled man had in contempt for the once swordsmith, Cario; one so lost and diluted as to sink his soul to this pit by choice. It was here the man called up both hands before him and then motioned wide, uttering his retort.

[i]"If you are so eager to serve your lord..."[/i] The fiery glow to his hands winked out of existence in an instant, [i]"... then join him in demise."[/i]

A column of tremendous gold and natural flame appeared from the unfathomably distant heavens above, drawn across the planar boundaries by magical calling. No wider than ten feet, the blaze launched itself like a shooting star dropped from the deep midnight sky, centered upon Cario's armorless body and sought to devour him with its pillar-like form.

[i]"Now is your chance - strike him down and let us be done with this unholy place!"[/i] The commoner turned and hastened between the tombstones, stepping atop some, throwing himself over others; the agility he bore only furthered the belief that he was no mere mage, either.

Coming to a rest beside the youth, the battered commoner took a moment to provide some lesser gesture and ease the wound upon his shoulder and that within his soul. The damage to himself, while not tremendous, was wearing on him as the increasing escalation was draining his repertoire of magical energy for the day and while this injury would now rapidly heal, he wondered how much more abuse the drow-elf could truly withstand. The answer, he hoped - the bleeding immediately ceasing from his shoulder - would come sooner.

He did not wish his own cover revealed, not so, not yet.

But if the next onslaught of attacks by those pulled here failed, there would be no choice but to make use of the greatest assets he had remaining - all other consequence be damned.

[@Shade][@TaroMaster4][@Gentlemanvaultboy][@SouffleGirl123]