[center][color=red]The Black Glacier, Lanostran Frontier[/color][/center][hr] "This one's going to get herself killed." In the distance, with the morning sun shining down on them, Tatiana and her demon raced across the ice, heading straight to the glacier, and to the enemy. "That fool!" Astraea grunted as she took up her spear. Beside her, Galahad turned to face the chaotic battle that was taking place behind them and ordered Elisheva and Cillian to take care of the remaining demons. At this rate, Elisheva and Cillian would survive the swarm if they kept to Galahad's strategy. "Galahad... What is she doing?," Astraea asked, turning to him. Stray shards from the demons' armor had left various small cuts across the battlemage's face, streaking his sharp features with blood. As Astraea looked at him, she couldn't help but grin. Finally, he looked a Lanostran warrior, and not some prince out of a child's fantasy. When she looked into his eyes, the R'heon's wry smile disappeared from her lips. She could feel his heart. His fear and anger. His closest friend was racing off towards certain death, and Galahad was all too aware that he would not be able to reach her before the first blow was struck. "You must help me get to her. Just as in the practice yard," she told him softly. He nodded in return, and that was all that was needed. Readying her spear, Astraea knelt down and focused her ether, then in one swift and practiced motion, she pushed up with her knees, expelling the ether collected in the muscles of her legs. In that instant, Galahad unleashed a blast of telekinetic force at her feet, catapulting her into the air. Astraea took one last look at the battlemage as she began her ascent and watched as he continued his advance towards Tatiana without a moment's hesitation. For all his extraordinary gifts, Galahad's ability to manipulate his own ether was lacking, and thus he could not augment his own physical abilities to the extent of others in the warband. As the wind and snow blasted past her, Astraea aimed her spear downward. The arc of her jump would drive her straight into the demon who sat on the central throne, the massive knight with the greatsword. Beneath her, Terviclop's hooves crushed the ice beneath as it rushed forward. The R'heon was directly over the demon and its master now, and she could sense the demons' pulsing fury within her own heart. It was anything unlike she had ever felt, this demon's anger. Did this same anger course through Tatiana as well? Suddenly, Astraea caught sight of something bright gleaming in her vision. A massive lance, cut of black frost, cut through the wind as it sped toward her. In the distance behind the colossal projectile, Astraea could glimpse the massive armored lancer, a second lance reforming in its hands. Its hollowed eyes were staring into her own. Time seemed to freeze. The black lance was inching closer and closer, the point of its head gleaming with the cold light of the morning sun. In the second before it reached her, Astraea shifted her body and adjusted her spear, summoning every ounce of Omestrian ether swimming in the vials at her belt and guided the gleaming torrent of energy into her catalyst. A golden paling, translucent like water but hard as steel, formed around her. She gripped the spear with all her strength, her armored-fingers tightening around the shaft. If her aim was true, she would be able to pierce the lance with her own spear tip, allowing her weapon to absorb the brunt of its force, and if Lady Lanostre was willing, her own paling to shield her from whatever magical energy was contained within the demon's projectile. The last thing she saw was Tatiana, staring up at her. A storm of light shone across the sky as the black lance struck Astraea's spear. Ice, paling, steel, flesh and bone exploded in a flash of blood and light as the inquisitor fell to earth, streaking the sky with crimson. When she hit the ground, darkness began to overtake her. It wasn't until the reddened jut of bone and viscera that remained of her right arm scraped painfully against the ice that she was brought back. She lay there, the world silent in her ears save for the sound of her own ragged breathing. Astraea could feel the ground beneath her shaking with Terviclop's steps, the ice vibrating against her ruined armor. Whether the demon was approaching her or continuing his attack, she did not know. Astraea gritted her teeth, rolled to her stomach, and pushed herself to her feet. It took some effort, but eventually, she was able to stand. A decade of training under Father Gregoroth would not allow her to lay on her back while her warsiblings were fighting. She glanced at what remained of her arm, and took stock of the damage. The entire appendage, up to her upper bicep had been disintegrated in the magical explosion. Blood was flowing in a steady torrent from the wound, pooling on the blackened ice. She brought her left hand to the ruined appendage and focused her own pools of ether into binding the wound. Eventually, she would be able to reassemble her lost arm, but it would take time and ether she did not have. For now, she would have to settle with brining the bleeding to a stop. Astraea could sense Galahad approaching from behind. He was running full-speed, but came to a stop when he reached her. The warleader took a moment to allow himself a quick breath before taking a cursory glance at Astraea's wound. "Don't let that bastard hit you," she told him. He offered her a grin and proceeded on his advance toward Tatiana. The R'heon gritted her teeth, blood streaming from her mouth. Her magical healing did not soothe pain, but she had become familiar to it a long time ago. Her spear had been destroyed, but this also wouldn't stop her. She summoned a spellblade and followed after Galahad. [center]***[/center] All around her, the remnants of their enemy had accumulated across the ice, forming piles of shredded armor and torn wing fragments. Elisheva was breathing hard, the last of her ether vials falling on the ice, shattering, but a smile adorned her face. Her mismatched eyes glanced through the trench. Half of Cillian's canopy of crimson briars had fallen, but remains of demons still lay trapped in its thorns. Half a dozen of their own soldiers lay on the ground. Some were missing limbs, others wounded, but they would live. They had not suffered any casualties just yet, thanks to Father Galahad's strategy. Now, the time had come to join the three Phoenixes in their attack against the demon leadership. "Cillian, form a column of your best sharpshooters and have them focus fire on that archer. Keep it busy. Erect an overgrowth barrier to give them cover. Have the rest of the men return the wounded to the transport. Stay with them, and focus on the aegis. It's becoming weaker," she told him. The Omestrian inquisitor saluted and stepped toward the conscripts, where he began calling out the names of the more talented riflemen. Just as Elisheva was leaving the trench, a soldier cried out her name. "What is it?" "Reverence, we are being hailed by one of the Lanostran warships," a young communications officer said. He held the communicator in his hand, the heavy equipment pack strapped to his back steaming in the cold. Elisheva narrowed her eyes. She gazed at the Lanostran coast to the east. In the shadow of the monstrous mountain. three lone vessels stood in defiance against a blockade of eight Varyan steam ships. Even from this distance, she could see the stark crimson circles adorning the Varyan ships, and the emerald lance sigil marking the ethereal sails of the Lanostran ships. The red-eyed inquisitor brought the communicator to her ears, where she immediately heard the sounds of a commotion on the bridge of the hailing ship. Someone in the background was barking orders, while the sounds of Lanostran cannons being armed could be heard. "This is Inquisitor Elisheva Varo of the Varyan Church. Speak." "I am Admiral Desdemona Phaedra, aboard the [i]LSS Hatred[/i]," spoke a gruff voice in the thickest Lanostran accent Elisheva had ever heard. "I offer this warning to you for the sake of Master Galahad. Return to your transport. We've detected movement from an unknown fleet of vessels approaching from the south, heading inbound to the Lanostran coast. Your steam ships are not heeding our warning." "The [i]south[/i]?" Elisheva asked with an incredulous tone. "We've no time for your Lanostran games, admiral. There is naught in that direction but storms. Nothing can survive out there beyond the Lanostran aegis. You know this better than anyone. Now listen to me, as we speak your "Master Galahad" is in the middle of battle, and you are keeping me from aiding him. Do you understa--" "Listen to me, girl. Our people are of the mountain, and we are of the sea. Our radars can detect ships better than your Varyan heaps of metal. A fleet of twenty unknown vessels head straight toward your ships at attack speed. In the Lady's name, I speak the truth of it. For the sake of both our people, order the blockade to assume battle formations. And in the name of your Starving God, call your people back to--" A torrent of static exploded in Elisheva's ears, and then, silence. She stared daggers into the communications officer. "S-Something is jamming their signal, Reverence." "Could it be our ships doing it?" Elisheva asked, running out of patience.. "Those old steam ships? Scramble Lanostran naval comms? Impossible." Elisheva sighed. She pushed the communicator into the officer's chest and began stomping off toward the glacier. As she left the trench, she motioned for Cillian to join her. "What are we going to do?" the young Omestrian inquisitor asked. "Retreat," she growled back. [center]***[/center] By the time Galahad and Astraea reached her, Tatiana and her demon were in the middle of battle. Strangely enough, only one of the greater demons, the lancer, had engaged Tatiana in a fight. The remaining two, the swordsman and the archer, remained seated on their decorative thrones. Their hollow eyes, set in human-like faces, frozen and cracked, turned to gaze upon the two inquisitors as they approached. [i]What is this?[/i] Astraea thought as her eyes took in what was happening. Tatiana's black hair was wet with perspiration and blood, and the young inquisitor was doing everything in her power to avoid the lancer's attacks while firing at it with her rifle whenever she could. Her demon had managed to carve off sizable chunks from the lancer's armor with its spear, but the demon had sustained grievous wounds during the battle. One of its horns had been cleaved off, and huge swaths of blood stained its fur. It couldn't have been long since the battle had started, but in that short time, both Tatiana and the lancer had managed to hurt one another. There was a strange, almost ceremonial cast to this battle. The archer and swordsman, looking on as Tatiana and her demon clashed against their companion... It reminded her of the training yard. It reminded her of a [i]duel[/i]. Galahad didn't seem to share this sentiment. He stormed forward, blasting a spell at the lancer. The spell hit clean, striking the lancer's breastplate, cracking it further. In the next instance, the lancer was on Galahad, the wound seeming to anger it. It leapt and thrust down at the inquisitor with its massive lance. The warleader, so used to fighting larger opponents, saw the strike coming from a mile away, and swiftly rolled out of the way, firing six quick rounds at the lancer in quick successions with his rifle-blade. Astraea stole a glance at the archer and swordsmen, who both continued to sit still, their great weapons of ice leaning against their thrones. Seeing that the two were not going to attack, Astraea sensed an opportunity and stormed the lancer, her emerald spellblade arcing through the air in a violent crescent, striking down at the frost knight, severing one of its wings. To her surprise, a strange sort of shearing noise escaped the lancer. Was it... grunting in pain? At that moment, there was movement in the corner of her eye. Astraea turned to face the two knights on their thrones. They were... [i]clapping.[/i] The sound of their frozen gauntlets clashing together was torment on her ears, but the two didn't seem to care. They appeared... human in their gestures, but frozen, their movements mechanical, with the sound of cracking ice accompanying them. The two seemed to be enjoying the "duel", or, at the very least, the lancer being injured. The lancer then lowered its spear and turned away from Galahad. It then proceeded to kneel before the swordsman and archer, leaning on its spear, its head bowed in what appeared to be deep reverence. "Tatiana... What... What is happening?" the R'heon asked the summoner.