[i][/i][center][img]https://i.imgur.com/hhIy4El.png[/img][/center][hr]
[b]~Cae Mayl~[/b]

The sharp claws of a cursehound the last thing that flashed before her eyes, before the sword of an unknown savior felled the beast amidst it's leaping motion. She fell back, stunned as a fog overcame her mind, the near-miss of the attack leaving her reeling from a small panic attack. 

Her fingers clutched onto the lute, and with shaky hands she raised it to her trembling to continue a song of sorrow and pain to accompany the viscous bloodshed taking place all around.

There was a blur of colors and shapes moving from side to side, like shadows that danced their ominous rites under the moonlight. Adrenaline. Cortisol. A chemical brew of hormones that drug the mind when in danger, and numbs the senses until all that's left of the world is narrow little peek of the battlefield from outside your own body. A trained man could rip every muscle in their body without realizing, but for someone in shock, they threatened a premature death if not dealt with quickly.

[color=bc8dbf]"M-Mayon..."[/color] Amy's lips trembled as she called out, eyes closing as she shut out the gruesome melee unfolding around her. She tried to focus on her faith, her connection to her goddess, but her other senses were assaulted even without her looking. The sound of steel against flesh and bone. The metallic taste of the air from the spilt blood. The horrifying aura of the pain from all the fallen that they felt before meeting their demise.

[color=bc8dbf]"O' Goddess, guide your faithful's hand in her most trying hour. Lit by your grace, give me the strength to endure."[/color] Shaking from the shock and waiting for a miracle to free her from this nightmare, an repressed part of her mind began to wake up from it's slumber. Like a soft hand on her shoulders, it sought to alleviate her pain and whisper tempting lies into her ears. As if someone else guided her hands, Amy's tune on the flute began to shift and change.

It was no longer sorrow, but it was joy. Fear couldn't control the notes as they were replaced by temptation. The music that once shivered in pain now playfully tempted all those who listened to partake in the bloodshed. There was a perverse joy in these tunes, one fueled [b]by[/b] grisly murder, an uncanny willingness to fuel the flames of combat. Her fingers no longer felt cold, the hand that guided them filling them with warmth that made her body tingle. She now [b]yearned[/b] for a song of war, a lullaby that would sate this wicked desire. Like an offering to a deity she performed her most vigorous melody yet as she finally opened her eyes and took in the battlefield with all her sense.

Deep down, Amy knew that this offering wasn't to Mayon: her hands are cold but caring, her voice commanding but soft, and her presence ephemeral but soothing. This fire from deep within was nothing of the sort: it was fueled by dark desire, by craving and temptation that could never be sated. It warmed her up and gave her strength unlike anything she had felt, and it made her hungry... 

[color=ed1c24][b]It made her crave for blood.[/b][/color]

By the time Amy had realised how serious her affliction had become, the battlefield swallowed her up and took control of her.

Hands moving on her own as she performed a melody of bloodshed, the half-demon joyfully frolicked through the fallen in what could only be described as a ghastly jaunt. The once timid cleric now seemed very fond of murder, and she swept across the battlefield like a whirlwind, bringing her warm tune far too close to the frontlines, seemingly ignorant of her own fragility. Only when the curse-beast appeared did she seem to regain her senses a little, her tune shifting to a more playful tone as she kept a distance from the monsters. Never skipping a beat, the flute kept singing it's rallying cry, ushering all to join the fight against the powerful new foe that had appeared.

To Amy, the world was a blur, and she ceded control to this [b]BURNING[/b] feeling inside of her that had freed her of the fears that once kept her chained. Not a trouble in the world, she reveled in the battle, appearing besides an ally in a fight, bolstering their spirits with an irresistible song before seemingly disappearing into thin air and appearing besides yet another knight. All those she visited would feel the same burning sensation deep inside of themselves: a yearning for glorious combat, the searing heat of melee and the spilt crimson of blood. No doubt an effect of her magical connection with emotions, whereas previously only one of her fellow knights had experienced Amy's ability to share her feelings, now all those who listened to her son could experience the same fire burning deep within her: friend and foe alike.

It was a hymn of battle... and an ode to slaughter.

To Amy, the world was a blur that only started clearing up once the ferocity of the fighting began to die down. As bodies littered the muddy battlefield and incredibly magic swept across the battlefield, she became numb to the smell of blood. The clashing of swords was but a distant rumble, and she finally felt the cool night air assault her skin once more. Beads of sweat ran down her face as the unknown presence that had kept her fired up now began to retreat in disgust. As the enemy rooted and the last remaining beasts were hunted down by her fellow knights, the fire had no more fuel. The entity retreated, taking with it the soothing fog of war, and left Amy gasping for air as her song came to a trembling end.

For a moment she couldn't even remember where she was, much less what had happened. She lowered her flute, only to realize she had been only using one hand: her other one clutching a bloodied dagger, her hands and dress covered in splatters of blood. Her right leg was covered in blood: sometime during the battle she received a shallow cut that was still bleeding a bit. As her head cleared, the searing pain flooded her mind as well, and she could feel that it wasn't the only injury she had sustained without even realizing. Bruises and soreness covered her body, and panic began to take hold over her once more. 

[color=bc8dbf]"What happened?"[/color] She whispered quietly and looked up at the night sky, seeking answers from Mayon. But the goddess remained silent, the moon hiding behind a cloud as it shrouded the battlefield in a shadow.

Her fellow knights, however, did not, and the last sounds of a fading battlefield finally reached her after an eternity of darkness. [color=#008b8b][i]"Clarice, Amy, Veilena! [b]Get over here!"[/b][/i][/color]

Her body moving on her own, still staring at the bloody dagger in her hand, Amy walked over to Fionn and then collapsed down onto her knees next to him. It took a few moments before she looked up at the knight, and then the leader of the boars, a sharp gasp escaping her lips as she did so. [color=bc8dbf]"By Mayon..."[/color] She whispered as she examined the bloodied helmet now tossed to the site, and then her gaze returned to Fionn. In the moment, she was far from being in a position to help anyone, her tired body shaking and sore, mind still foggy from the powerful presence that took control of her body previously. With a quiet wince as she stood up with her injured leg, she leaned onto Fionn's back, one arm crossing around the knight's shoulders, whilst her other hand landed on the commander's shoulders. [color=bc8dbf]"Mayon bring you peace... just - think about the name. What you want to tell. Quick, b-before we both collapse."[/color] Amy wasn't joking, she felt exhausted and more or less relied on Fionn propping her up, but she wanted to be of use one more time before the Adrenaline withdrawal made her collapse. [color=bc8dbf]"Think of a name!"[/color] She gasped, looking into the man's eyes with the last remaining cinders of the previous fire burning in her eyes. If the man could focus his thoughts in his dying moments, she'd catch them, and tell what she learned to Fionn.[hr]

[@The Otter][@VitaVitaAR]