Unfortunately for Tyaethe, the firemage seemed to have planned for an attempt on his life, and an attempt to bypass him. A wave of fire sprang up as she passed by him, blocking her escape route. It was remarkably intense, even risky for an undead to pass through. At least, if they wanted to remain in a state in which they could continue to fight. The man rounded on her, eyes wild.

"ALL THINGS BURN, DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND?!" he cried, his wild eyes seeming to blaze with their own fire. Pyromania was rather unquestionable at this point. "WHEN THIS KINGDOM BURNS, ALL WILL BE REBORN! EVERYTHING WILL BECOME GLORIOUS ASH AND BEGIN AGAIN! YOU'LL BURN TOO, GIRL! [i]AS FIRE IS MY BLOOD, HEAT MY PULSE, MAY THE CALLING SKY GRANT ME FLAME[/i]!"

As he spoke, fire seemed to engulf his body, though he appeared unharmed. Streams of flame poured, whiplike, from his hands, twisting towards Tyaethe.

[hr]

"Oh?" the vampire tilted his head to the side, raising one eyebrow as he did. Sir Garret's blade had met his own, drawn in the blink of an eye. His grin hadn't faded at all, even though he seemed to be stuck in a rather disadvantageous situation. There was no further room to back up, though. He was penned in with that ice and the incoming flanking assault. So instead of continuing to retreat, he suddenly tossed his crossbow to the side, in a bid to disrupt one of his attackers. His sword flashed, in a bid to push Garret's blade sideways, his hand lashing out has he ducked low and forward, the goal to avoid the attacks aimed for his head and go right for the bigger man's throat. But it was clear what the vampire was trying to do. A vampire, even of the lowest kind, was strong and fast. It was possible that even through armor the man could tear out the knight's throat.

But wasn't such a move a risk...?

Fanilly saw the wave of fire rushing towards her just in time. Alvor did not. She threw herself back once more, feeling the heat blaze past her. What... what was that man doing?! She had heard of the paladins of Reon, their valiant defense of the innocent by destroying evil. The sword to Mayon's shield. But he'd killed surrendering prisoners, and now recklessly sent an attack that could have injured any of the others... or worse.

What in the blazes was he doing?!

Alvor's armor suddenly glowed, lines flowing across it, as the flames washed over him. Oh, it wouldn't keep him entirely from harm... but the man that stood after they cleared, using the shaft of his axe in an attempt to lock up the blow from the paladin, was not burned.

Fanilly found herself a little too distant to close the gape and strike, but still, she hopped to her feet and made a bid to reach him...

[hr]

As the knights shattered skeletons, bones crumbling to the ground, their numbers slowly thinned. Oh, they certainly had dealt with the majority, but there at least seemed to be less. The man with the sword sighed.

"Fine, then," he commented, "They're at least a distraction."

Swiftly, he broke into a sprint, raising his sword. The nearest knight would be dead in a matter of seconds, too distracted by the skeletons to defend themselves from his attack!

And then he stopped dead in his tracks. He let out a small, strangled cry, slumped to his knees, and fell to the floor, a stab wound visible in his upper back. He was dead.

Tili stood behind him, the knife she'd taken from the body of one of the guards dripping blood.