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[h1][color=palevioletred]Greedy Hero[/color][/h1][/center]
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	[color=757163][i]Having stood against Ren Baykara—disguised as a powerful member of the Volti—at the burning of the Blue Star Idasque, rescuing the Imam along with nearly every worshipper there, and buying time for Faiskal to recover a holy artifact, Virang is forced to acknowledge the controversial Raffaella Mataraci as a hero. To prove her loyalty to her country, she is made to give a speech to the people to motivate a volunteer force to join the war effort to suppress the revolution. She is not given a script to read. Still, she manages to deliver, rousing the people and surprising those who had bought into her finely crafted image as a childish girl of meager capability and little ambition. Afterwards, Ren appears to deliver veiled threats, while she responds by goading him into joining the battlefront, staging the beginnings of a hatching plot to dispose of him.[/i][/color]
[hider=Palapar V: Victory][color=757163]If the sympathies Raffaella often used to motivate a few friends, allies and others to act on her behalf could at times be overwhelming, the gratitude of nearly two thousand was even more so. Even still, it... felt good to be a hero, to have done something that made a positive impact to many—above all, to have made a meaningful  [i]choice[/i] that was not dictated to her by someone above her, someone with power and influence that was neither a carefully crafted illusion nor self-delusion.

When the summons from the Sultan came and could not be refused, her feelings were a mixed bag of apprehension and relief to be away from the grateful horde. She was returning to familiar territory, but the landscape had been forever changed. Her influence had grown, new connections had been made through channels both official and not, and she knew that she had made new enemies, but could take comfort in the fact that now was not the time for them to reveal themselves. Those who knew that she had survived an encounter with Ren Baykara would need to reassess the threat she represented to their position. No—in this moment, national unity was on the menu, and after an extravagant parade which ended with her and the mysterious, almost mythical figure of Faiskal being bestowed medals by the Sultan himself, it was time for a speech. She appeared not as the humble girl her saviors had seen, but in all her radiant visage that the people of Virang were well familiar with.

[color=palevioletred]"Victories are to be celebrated,"[/color] she began hopefully, with a smile. [color=palevioletred]"What has been destroyed can be rebuilt, and what cannot be replaced has been saved. This was and is a time of testing, and in my dreams, I see the gods smiling upon our efforts, and know that it is so."[/color] She paused for the crowd. [color=palevioletred]"But our time of testing as a nation is not over. While we chose peace, the rebels in Palapar have chosen war. We have saved much, but our wayward enemies have taken much, and plot even now to take much more. The gods demand of all of us our patience and longsuffering, and above all, faith—and in this moment of both tragedy and hope, they have called those of us who are capable to action. After this moment of silence and prayers for those lost, I pray we as a nation will come together and answer that call to action."[/color]

A moment of silence passed in which the crowd was energized, but unable to release that energy with mere shouts and cheers. Instead, they waited with bated breath as Raffaella softly read aloud a list of the identifiable deceased who'd lost their lives during the burning of the Blue Star Idasque. Afterwards, she bowed to the Sultan and stepped aside for him to introduce Faiskal, releasing her own held breath and tension as she walked to the gala being held in honor of the pair, and Imam Tilki who was quite understandably absent. Raffie didn't look forward to growing old, but she took solace in the one plus, being that she might be left alone when tired, which was already most of the time. Would a time come that she might be so old and tired that she'd sleep forever? Her position had been fragile for so long that she never really considered it.

There was no use thinking about it now. Her path was blocked by one Ren Baykara and his entourage of servants. With one word, he could have them all summarily dismissed, and the two would be alone. She greeted him in the manner which was appropriate for their respective social ranks—an appropriately wooden, doll-like smile on her face, as though nothing at all were amiss in the slightest.

[color=E4B844]"A rousing speech, Miss Mataraci,"[/color] the Vizier's grandson remarked. [color=E4B844]"I, for one, was moved."[/color] A wiry yasoi girl with a blindfold over her eyes stood behind him and slightly off to the side, and her body language radiated anxiety. [color=E4B844]"Let us only hope that your words were so effective on all who heard them."[/color] He smiled and held out a hand. It was naught but two seconds before a cup was thrust into it and he took a sip. [color=E4B844]"It would be a crime for so many people's sacrifices - dare I say, for [i]your[/i] sacrifices - at the Blue Star Idasque to be in vain."[/color]

[color=palevioletred]"I'm honored that you found it so,"[/color] Raffaella replied pleasantly. [color=palevioletred]"I have little to sacrifice but my own time, Lord Baykara, and for the work of Vashdal, I have all the time in the world to give."[/color]

Ren arched an eyebrow slightly. [color=E4B844]"Come, now, Raffaella,"[/color] he began, [color=E4B844]"Such humility is... almost too much."[/color] He shook his head, but his eyes remained fixed upon hers. [color=E4B844]"Surely, you have [i]much[/i] more than that, now."[/color]

[color=palevioletred]"Oh, yes,"[/color] she replied, handling the medal around her neck absentmindedly. [color=palevioletred]"That may be so now, but before, everyone doubted me—but [i]you[/i] never doubted me, did you?"[/color] She smiled sweetly. [color=palevioletred]"I'm truly grateful for your support, Lord Baykara. I heard you even paid the rebels' ransom for me. I've never been happier—but I have no doubt that even greater glory awaits [i]you[/i] in the coming months."[/color]

Ren scowled. [color=E4B844]"I have more than my share of accolades already,"[/color] he rejoined. [color=E4B844]"And I daresay we shall [i]all[/i] have enough once this rebellion is finished. Well,"[/color] he relented, [color=E4B844]"those of us who are around by the end of it all."[/color] He forced a smile. [color=E4B844]"Do be careful, Rafaella. I enjoy you, but there are monsters about, and I can't save you from all of them."[/color]

He reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder and gave it a firm, fond squeeze.

[color=palevioletred]"I didn't take you for a man who could be satisfied by accolades fit for ordinary heroes,"[/color] Raffie replied playfully, with a tone of surprise. [color=palevioletred]"You speak so casually of protecting me from monsters, after all—when protecting Vashdal's prophets is the purview of gods, rather than men."[/color] Her smile was as sweet as ever.

Ren's expression changed. [color=E4B844]"Ah, yes,"[/color] he agreed, squeezing a bit tighter, [color=E4B844]"but remember that it is men who declare them prophets in the first place."[/color] He made a gesture and his attendants turned away and faded back into the crowd. [color=E4B844]"And remember, orphan, who controls those men."[/color]

She tilted her head. [color=palevioletred]"A prophet is one who speaks truly. A man cannot make a liar a prophet, nor a prophet a liar. ...but I will not forget under whose orders tongues wag."[/color]

[color=E4B844]"Or under whose orders men march."[/color] He released his grip and patted her shoulder and made that gesture that called his people back. Only the blind girl had remained through it all. [color=E4B844]"You may be happy to know that I'll be leading them myself once we've put an army together worthy of my leadership. Truly, we shall be delivered."[/color]

[color=palevioletred]"I am glad, Lord Baykara. Truly."[/color] With that, the prophetess who was no orphan departed, with a silence that might one day be remembered as ominous. The gala called, and much work remained to be done.

He was right about one thing: monsters were about, and there was only one aside from Vashdal who she could truly trust to protect her from them—Zarina. She needed to make contact with Zarina before an opportunity to be assassinated presented itself.[/color][/hider]

	[color=757163][i]In the days following the award ceremony, Raffaella is "strongly advised" to stay in Virang for the rest of the revolution in Palapar—unofficially put under house arrest, "for her own safety, of course." Though she interfered in Ren's plans at the Blue Star Idasque, this cannot be admitted publicly, and having managed to do such a thing, those who would call her their enemy must reevaluate her formerly meager capabilities. Eager to wash their hands of the attempted false flag at Blue Star, many of the Virangish nobility find a sudden interest in getting to know her. Amongst the deluge of invitations to tea parties and marriage proposals comes one particular ally willing to help her return to her unfinished business in Palapar—and so, against the "advisement" of the crown, she goes with one goal in mind: to get Zarina out of there alive.[/i][/color]
[hider=Palapar 5: The Fall of Ren][color=757163]It was enough to be paraded about the capital and validated, her position in Virangish high society secured for now—to show her support for the crown, even as Palapar continued to slip through its fingers. It was enough to wave her own finger and lecture braver souls about peace while feeling the political winds, to call each move on the board before it was made, and to be right. As long as she continued to be right, she would have the support and backing of at least some of the Darhannic church, continue to gain new allies, and slowly—[i]so[/i] slowly—amass the influence needed to change the status quo.

No. It was not enough. It should have been enough, but it wasn't. Perhaps for Imam Tilki, saving Raffaella and the rest of his flock at the cost of his own life would have been enough, and to escape with her own life should have been enough for her—the price of a lifetime of good deeds not yet lived was quite high—but it was not, and so she too had risked a premature end to save two thousand more. Now that she'd had the time to reflect, she wondered why she'd risked it all. Perhaps the Imam's own courage bolstered her own.

In the end, it was all about staying off the streets. She never wanted to starve again. She never wanted to have to sell her body like the mother who abandoned her. She never wanted the fear of such a fate to so much as knock on the doors of her mind's eye ever again. It was [i]always[/i] about that. It was about having so much power, wealth and influence that her old life and its anxieties became buried in the surreal nature of it all—to drown in abundance such that words like cost and value had no meaning.

Yet more and more, Raffaella felt herself consumed by a new kind of greed: for not only herself to never have to worry about starving again, but for no one else to have to live that way. The gods had given men the tools for endless abundance. The answer was in the Gift, and to not use it to its fullest potential was the crime for which the elites of this world were guilty.

Yet the success of Palapar would mean an end to her influence, for to be cast into the streets in the Quentic world would be considered a charitable end for her, though she considered death preferable. Only if Virang could survive the blow to its economy would Palapar's success be a step in the right direction, for she trusted very few besides herself to have right motives, among the nobility of the world. Truthfully, she still did not consider herself a noble, and felt more comfortable in the plain maidsclothes she wore as a disguise than she ever did in a dress and heels.

So many worries, so little time left now. As she departed once more for Palapar, clandestinely stowed away as a favor from one of her newly forged alliances, she reflected on the oddity that there was only one thing left on her mind. Once more, just once more, she needed to save a good person from themselves. Raffie wondered if Zarina had worried about her—if she'd had the time to worry about her, in between life-threatening battles and crushing heartaches. She wondered if anyone around the mighty dragon had bothered to worry about Zarina. No, she thought—she probably would not have allowed it. They'd shared their insecurities with each other, and the moment had felt precious and sacred. For but a fleeting instant, perhaps a part of her had wondered if they might have shared something more.

Raffaella steeled her gaze upon the horizon, her greedy eyes turned to the Virangish front. She may be greedy, but she wasn't going to stop asking for more from the Dreamer. In fact, she might just ask for forgiveness while she was at it.

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[color=E4B844]"Men!"[/color] shouted Ren Baykara, wheeling about on his black stallion, Incitatus. He stood before them, their lord and commander: the shield of Virang, the sword of Darhanna, Vaşdal's chosen. [color=E4B844]"You know who I am. You know, every one of you, the power that our Lord Öjeran has entrusted me."[/color] He nodded and spurred the horse into a trot, parallel to the battle lines. [color=E4B844]"You know well the realities of our world, as well. I could sit behind the front lines and gaze at a map and issue my commands from there, but I am here, my people, because I believe in what we are doing. I believe that this is not a mere battle for our right to live and to trade where we like without fear."[/color] He shook his head and reached the end of the line. He handled the reins and Incitatus came about.

Ren Baykara reached into his scabbard and drew from it Dominus, the great haureenium kilij said to have been wielded by Selim Baykara himself during the War of Garungul. This, he leveled in the direction of Ertan Kashani, who was presently head of the party treating with the rebels before battle. [color=E4B844]"This very moment,"[/color] Ren declared, [color=E4B844]"Our viceroy Kashani treats with the enemy, aiming to avoid bloodshed, and I [i]respect[/i] him, for he is a Virangishman and he fights for what we do! He [i]believes[/i] in what we do!"[/color] 

The horse was at a trot and he amplified his voice with the Gift. [color=E4B844]"But he will fail, my fellow Virangish. Make no mistake: this is not because he is a weak man or because his beliefs or rhetoric are flawed."[/color] He spurred Incitatus into a light canter now. [color=E4B844]"He will fail because they are incapable of living peaceably. They have been given fifty [i]years[/i] of guidance and opportunities and patient instruction by our Gods-chosen people on how to be civilized, and I tell you now, ladies and gentlemen, they can make nothing of it. They will sit and complain in their simplicity and indolence, begging for more from us while railing against us. I say 'enough'!"[/color] he roared. [color=E4B844]"I say that we have given these incorrigible savages enough! We have suffered long enough! We have seen our sons killed and our fields burned and our wives raped by these beasts for the crime of trying to bring the light of civilization to them! For trying to bring the one true faith to them so that their wretched souls might be saved!"[/color]

He was at the opposite end of the line and he flourished his sword, kicking his mount about to head back the other way. [color=E4B844]"Truly, my people, we have tried. We have discharged our duty by the Gods and the people of Palapar have been not only deaf and dumb to our words, but they have ravaged us for them."[/color] He shook his head adamantly. [color=E4B844]"They cry and they rave and they squeal like beasts to the world of how we have mistreated them."[/color] He let out a snort of laughter. [color=E4B844]"We know the [i][b]truth!!![/b][/i]"[/color] he roared, pounding his chest. [color=E4B844]"We know what we have done. We know what we have suffered, and we know our own strength!"[/color] He came about in the center, bearing stern and straight and proud. [color=E4B844]"The time has come to show these ungrateful wretches who their betters are. To remind them what happens when our generosity is refused and our better natures give way to wroth!"[/color]

He raised his sword on high and a faint glimmer of sun caught it. [color=E4B844]"We are the bulwark of civilization. We are the rule of law! We are piety, mercy, and justice against the slavering horde that would extinguish the light of this world, but WE. ARE. MIGHTIER!!!"[/color]

A cheer went up from the soldiers. [color=E4B844]"It is us, I tell you, who will win the day!"[/color]

A second cheer. 

[color=E4B844]"For our dead!"[/color]

[b]"For our dead!"[/b]

[color=E4B844]"For the future!"[/color]

[b]"For the future!"[/b]

[color=E4B844]"For the Gods!"[/color]

[b]"For the Gods!"[/b]

[color=E4B844]"For [b]JUSTICE!!![/b]"[/color]

They would tear this enemy apart.

All about Ren tangled lesser mages, lesser warriors, and lesser [i]people[/i]. Dragons wheeled overhead and he glanced up in approval as one of the rebel beasts fell from the sky, its rider a tiny, helpless, writhing thing. His weapon was working. It was a shame that she sought to be more than that. She might've been useful, otherwise, instead of something to sacrifice heroically when it became necessary.

Then fell two of their own beasts and it occurred to him that the rider was always the weak part and that a dragon was useless if its rider was not strong. This was the work of the enemy tethered, and he knew one among those, but Marceline Escarra was the lesser evil here. He required a resounding victory: one that would burnish his legend and make people remember him. He would need to cut the head off the snake. 

Twice, already, he had felt the pull of lesser mages upon his person. There lay, now, a woman whose head had erupted like a geyser behind the rebel lines. Close to her, among what was left of their chemical mages, slumped a man whose brain had been vomited forth from his mouth and nose. 

Ren Baykara dismounted and stalked towards the front lines, casually dispatching a squadron of twelve subhumans who had taken up an entrenched defensive position behind a small knoll and a fallen log. They exploded into fragments of bone and raining body parts, their lives revoked by a stronger being.

A battery operated by a team of mages mauled one of his flanks, trying to soften it in preparation for a cavalry charge. It was just beyond his range, but that was no matter. Ren Baykara's eyes widened and his veins bulged and he drank in an impossible amount of energy. Bullets flew for his head. He could hear their pathetic screams of 'On Magus!', but everything that they threw his way disintegrated in the inferno that surrounded him. He reached out with a full power draw and the ground rose up before those cannon and  swallowed them. He squeezed a gloved fist tightly and their ammunition rupture inside, killing every one.

And that was when he saw, on the field, the Blood Mage. He had met the fool once: a Black boy from some race traitor nation who called himself an artist and a healer but who could do neither with much skill. Already, Ren had broken the Blood Mage's face, and he wore the scars as proof of his shame instead of healing them. This one had led the defense at Ceboyan. He had crossed Ren twice now. For that, he would not die. There were fates worse than death. Ren Baykara grinned. In his hands, Dominus hungered for battle. [color=E4B844]"You!"[/color] he shouted, [color=E4B844]"Bloodchild! Surrender now and kiss my feet and I shall spare your life."[/color]

Tku had spent his time roiling the earth when he was he made notice of the walking catastrophe that was Ren. Too much for any force to overcome without severe losses. He would have liked to avoid a direct conflict with him and instead wear him down until the time was like. It was the harsh reality Tku had prepared himself for in this fight. 

But Ren was transfixed on him and he would have to face him. [color=734960]"You ask me to kiss your feet?"[/color] Tku feigned a blush, [color=734960]"I didn't know the Darhanics were so homoerotic."[/color] He taunted with angry beast. [color=734960]"I don't think I will, habibi. You're a little boyish for my liking."[/color] and with that Tku began to ride off and mark with blood magic. If he was to win, it would not be found in a straight fight.

Taunts were the refuge of those who knew their own inadequacy. Ren spoke with his magic instead, and it was easy. There was a bounty of energy all around for him to draw from, and it was a small matter to send a rush of heat through his own body to kill off any... parasites that the blood mage might use. 

This accomplished, he reached out and grabbed hold of the fleeing enemy - perhaps he, too, might've been a coward were he so weak - to stop him dead in his tracks. [color=E4B844]"Disappointing in every way possible, Bloodchild."[/color] He shook his head. [color=E4B844]"There is no escape this time."[/color]

Ren's presence was hard to not to notice when he rushed in like a force of nature. Mages began to crumble in his path faster than an oceanborn swam through water. She patted the mages nearest her and encouraged their efforts without her. Using kinetic, she lifted up a discarded cannonball as she narrowed her sights upon the monster. Heating it with what little arcane she had, she dug in her heels then shot it forward. It erupted from her hand toward his back as he reached out for Tku.

There, before Alab, not so very far away, stood Ren Baykara. The man's power and cruelty were legendary, and a mere dockworker knew better than to make an attempt on him. It would simply mean death, but he was chasing down Pictor, who had been nothing short of a hero for the Palaparese cause. While the Joruban was strong almost beyond comprehension, the gulf between him and Ren was still significant, Alab knew. If he could just... There [i]had[/i] to be a way to make a difference here! The gods would not have put him on this plane had he not the power - as any living, thinking man did - to make a difference.

Not so far away lay a fallen grenadier, his bag bulging with explosives. It was dangerously close to where the titans were about to do battle. He needed a distraction. He needed - 

A cannonball flew straight for the monster's head at a speed that Alab's eyes could barely fathom and that was his chance. It was too much for Ren to rely on his burning aura to handle. He had to actively turn and block it and Pictor, whose flight had been halted and who was struggling to break free, was released. Alab dove forward into the divot left by the same cannonball that had killed the grenadier. He reached out, grabbed the satchel, and lay utterly still next to enough explosives to kill an entire squadron.

Meanwhile, Ren whirled. [color=E4B844]"And they [i]all[/i] come out of the woodwork,"[/color] he called, shaking his head. [color=E4B844]"I had thought you smart enough to be resigned to your place, at least,"[/color] he concluded, eyes fixed into the near-distance at another figure.

Alab was a huge man - strong, too, but in the wrong way for this sort of of conflict. He had next to nothing of the Gift, but all that he needed was a little mix and a little spark. Just a little. He waited for an opening. He could light it and run while Baykara was distracted. He just needed to let Pictor and the other ally he could not quite make out know... but [i]how[/i]?

Raffaella was not the type to act before thinking, and in that, she was out of her element. She wasn't supposed to be here. So long as Ren lived, she had to suspect that any guards assigned to her might retreat from her position and leave her exposed. Yet if she could not make her presence known and request a guard, the front lines were out of the question. Reaching Zarina was just impossible. She wasn't helpless against most of the individual combatants here, but the power she'd displayed against Ren was a finite power. Two talented mages or a drawn-out duel with a superior one were both a death sentence. There were tethered about, too. If only she'd been one of them, backing up Zarina could have been so much easier.

It was time for a change of plans. Raffaella was in her element when she made herself small and went unnoticed by the bigger fish, or not taken seriously until it was too late. Clutching her rosary, she bent the rays of light around her body and made herself invisible, drawing not one iota of energy more than what was necessary. She followed Ren Baykara like a hooded spectre, concealing herself amongst the lingering energies of the havok he wrought, a bit further back than the range of most of her classmates from Ersand'Enise. It was an estimate, but ideally, he wouldn't notice her even if she was in his range.

Released from Ren's grasp, Tku leaped off onto the ground he whistled for White Empress to fight Ren. It wasn't the best thresher for fighting but she was an alpha so any bit of power mattered. Ren had switched his focus and with that Tku pulled more energy out of the void. His senses were deeply focused on Ren. The pulsing of his heart, his blood moving and the energy his mana was taken. He prayed that he could do something let something find purchase on him.

Raffaella had managed to shadow Ren across much of the battlefield. He was a walking cataclysm wherever he went, batting aside mages of the sixth or seventh degree as if they were beetles to crunch underfoot, wiping out entire squadrons of soldiers with casual gestures and no more exertion than one might offer to avoid stepping on a crack in the pavement. The path of destruction in his wake was clearly and presently visible. 

It was in this midst that she remained undiscovered. Soldiers marched behind him, eager to pour into the gaps he left in the enemy lines and she did not appear, after all, to be an enemy. Still, even as he exchanged with Tku. Even as Mahal flung a cannonball at his head. Even as a casualty on the battlefield shifted, she remained in wait, stalking. 

Then, suddenly, Ren stiffened. He paused and he turned. His eyes swept the battefield for a bare second, and then they settled on Raffie's form.

[color=E4B844]"I'd tell you I was disappointed,"[/color] he scoffed, [color=E4B844]"but I'm honestly not. You're just about as pathetic as I read you, charlatan."[/color] He raised a hand, even as a large white thresher trundled slowly towards him, and pointed his index finger in her direction. From it leapt what could only be described as a supernova.

Meanwhile, as Ren was focused on this new but expected enemy, Alab managed to check the last of the fuses. He went still as Ren took a step in his direction. [color=808000][i]Dead,[/i][/color] he thought, [color=808000][i]Just a corpse. Nothing special. Nothing to notice here. Just an anonymous casualty...[/i][/color] His lungs pinched from holding his breath. [color=808000][i]...Until I fucking [b]kill[/b] you, you bastard![/i][/color]

Mahal hadn't noticed Alab in the thick of the battle's chaos. Her attention lingered on the threat before her as her skin bristled at Ren's words. A flash of anger flickered across her expression and cut into her voice. [color=#B8860B]"I guess I never had a proper teacher." [/color] 

Ngiti rushed up next to her before letting out another booming bark attack. Mahal, on the other hand, drew on her chemical. Her gift attempted to attack the man's brain trying to cause confusion and disorientation.

At first, Tku didn't care about Ren firing towards the Virangish but with the word 'charlatan' fitted a few people. A few people that might help him right now. He drew and binded away the chemicals, air, and whatever else the attack might try and use. He just hoped it was enough for whoever it was aimed at.

Raffaella blinked and raised her wand to defend. The assist from Tku came so fast that it nearly preempted her own attack, surprising her. She repurposed the energy from her stealth magic to defend, showing just who Ren had raised his hand against. [color=palevioletred]"Wow. Not even going to ask what I'm doing here before hurling a sun at me. Rude."[/color]

[color=E4B844]"Three of you,"[/color] Ren called, with a shake of his head. [color=E4B844]"One of me. [i]That[/i] is an apt comparison."[/color] He stopped for a moment and pressed his fingers to his temples. [color=E4B844]"Bad dog,"[/color] he snarled at Mahal, and a lash of kinetic energy came out towards her attacking hound, though it was not the dog that she'd addressed. He was quick enough, however, to roll with the pounding attack and land on his feet some ways away, shaken but otherwise unharmed. His tail was between his legs and he was growling.

Alab, meanwhile, had managed to sneak some ways away. He took the couple of seconds he had to try to get Tku's attention.

In the meantime, there was an immense thresher bearing down on his position. It was vast and slow, and looking to crush him in its claws. 

He reached out and lifted it off of its feet. More optimized for swimming than walking, they flailed in the air, as if it were a mere bug. [color=E4B844]"This... thing yours?"[/color] He turned to Tku. [color=E4B844]"How much do you care about it?"[/color]

[color=734960]"I raised it from an egg,"[/color] Tku answered.

[color=E4B844]"Leave this fight and I spare it."[/color] Threshers could, of course, eventually regrow lost parts. [color=E4B844]"Stay, and it dies."[/color] He ripped one leg off and the beast thrashed and hissed, almost breaking free, but it could not.

[color=734960]"I came here with her expecting I would die,"[/color] A draw on Ren was attempted as he accepted the death of his companion.

Monster that he was, the Virangishman shrugged and, with a sadistic smirk, he pulled upon kinetic magic and crushed its carapace. White Empress died with a hissing squeal and thick bluish blood squirting from the shattered shell. Her remains were summarily tossed at Tku with a sneer. [color=E4B844]"Do not bring an overgrown insect to do a man's work. Now..."[/color]

On his hand, Ren felt an itch. Someone was attempting to draw from him. [color=E4B844]"Is that your vengeance?"[/color] he questioned, twisting to regard Tku. He pulled back and they locked in a stalemate, for such was his power that he matched Tku even in the blood mage's best school. Something more would be needed from the rebels to give their man the edge.

Meanwhile, Alab had managed to scurry behind the lines. He'd set up the grenades to blow sky high and, as they others shifted about, the thresher carcass had landed atop the satchel containing them, full of volatile digestive chemicals and thresher blood. He tried to get the attention of Tku, but the binder was understandably focused on Ren himself. He tried to contact Mahal, but she did not see him either. It was only one of her dogs. A dog that recognized him. A dog that began barking...

Mahal's head snapped to Puno, the little spring hound and the alpha of the group. Her frantic barks ceased as her head twisted toward a familiar face.

[hr]
Raffaella Mataraci, a bright light to some, an iridescent eyesore to others. Nilay, Balik's and Zarina's discreet assassin, had been staying within the Virangish ranks to sniff out potential infiltrators from the enemy's side and Magusjaegers in the hiding. On occasion, a plant could be found too, but seldom had it ever been one of their own.

Sneaking up from behind with concealment worthy of the best mage hunters, she poised herself to poke her knife against the pink menace's throat. 

No, she had gotten too close. She jig was up and she had to show herself. Close, very much within a dagger's range. [color=#342869]“Not a word. Stop drawing. Turn around.”[/color]

The pink Raffaella was known for faded as she obliged, turning around and no longer drawing, the freckled redhead looking up at her would-be assassin in the eye. [color=red]"Is there a problem?"[/color] she asked irritably, as though she had every right to be here, and the woman were being a nuisance. Of course there was a problem—she wasn't supposed to be here. It wasn't official, and it was only known by a few, but she [i]had[/i] been gently brushed out of the spotlight and expected to stay in Virang, as though she were under house arrest—for saving lives from the hands of Ren.

Nilay took a step froward, closing the little bit of distance between the two. A distance where normal human reactions couldn't reasonably counter a knife, although she knew this one was a chemical mage. [color=#342869]“There is.”[/color] the assassin answered, collected and unperturbed. [color=#342869]“The direction you've pointed your blade-”[/color] Nilay said as she hovered her dagger near Raffie's throat. [color=#342869]“and where you stand. Explain yourself. Now.”[/color] a slight rise of her voice, but her constitution did not shift as chaos unfolded around them.

[color=red]"It's him who should explain himself, attacking me without warning,"[/color] Raffaella returned dryly. [color=red]"But we both know you're not here to talk. [b]Si—[/b]"[/color]

Nilay immediately gut-punched the minuscule creature called Raffie. Out of sight, given how close they were - nearly intimate. It was nasty, clearly meant to cause the other to bend. The assassin leaned forward too, just for a moment, before letting the girl fall over if she failed to hold herself together.

Raffie was sent to the ground. The 'gifts' she'd received to her RAS meant nothing in the face of another reminder of her frail constitution. She clenched her fists until her nails dug into them, unable to speak a word. This was yet another reminder that words were useless in this world. She should have simply erased the woman from existence as soon as she made herself known, like Ren would have done.

With that, the rogue inhaled deeply, peered down at the frail girl and then looked at the battlefield. Wordlessly, she parted for it, vanishing soon after and leaving Raffaella to her own devices without any further reprimand.

That was it, then. 'Miss Mataraci' would engage with this battle on the terms of another unseen actor. Her choices continued to not matter. Tku was going to die, and there was... nothing she could do about it?

The woman departed, leaving Raffaella's catastrophizing of the situation to lose its steam. This assassin wasn't one of Ren's. If she was, she wouldn't have made the mistake of leaving her alone. Whoever hired her had no idea what she was truly capable of... and that meant that she was... well, on her side, if sides had any meaning at this point.

There was always one thing she could do, the thing she had practiced the longest. She could always disappear, and bide her time until there was another opening.

[hr]
The body of the thresher tumbled around Tku as he drew in it's essence. His attempt to catch Ren's manas while they were preoccupied failed as well. He as in a stalemate with Ren but it wouldn't be long before he joined White Empress. He couldn't let it end like this. The material he pulled from Empress began to incorporate into him It was painful and wrong. But he needed to win this fight, by whatever means he had.

[color=808000]"It's ready to blow!"[/color] Alab blurted, proud of what he had set up, proud of making a difference. [color=808000]"A dozen grenades, right under the dead thresher. They just need -"[/color]

Something wet touched Mahal. She looked down to see that it was blood. The two halves of Alab, diagonally sliced, slid off of each other and landed with a wet thunk on the ground. Ren's hand was raised and trembling, and sweat beaded on his forehead. A slight smile of satisfaction twisted his visage. Had he heard anything and acted, or had it simply been the fun of squishing an ant where one had appeared? [color=E4B844]"Another fish who did not learn to fear the shark,"[/color] he sneered.

Ertan Kashani made his way to where Ren Baykara seemed locked in a worryingly even struggle with a pair of enemy mages and their animals. [color=598527]<Kashani. Coming. Six. Mages. Be. Ready.>[/color] Marceline sent it to Tku and Mahal as quickly as she could. It bought them mere seconds of lead time.

[color=CD5C5C]"Worry not, young lad,"[/color] crowed the viceroy to Ren Baykara as he came into the scene, [color=CD5C5C]"for your commander is here to deliver you from harm!"[/color]

Marceline could sense it all happening. She knew it and felt it and understood what she had to do. The first drops of rain had begun to fall, and the already-muddy fields were about to become much worse. She closed her eyes and found Mahal and sent her a little pinch message: something simple that she could understand. [color=598527]<Marci. Lift. You. Use.>[/color]

With that, Marceline pulled every bit of energy that she could. She pulled until she started to feel a pressure behind her eyes, until the pins and needles feeling where sensation ended around her waist started to intensify. She had drawn to a capacity of 8.54 and it was [i]all[/i] that she had to give. Tentatively, for just a handful of seconds, the thresher carcass lifted, its volatile blood dripping onto the grenades. There it was for the taking!

Keearah, meanwhile, could sense Tku straining, and so she set her jaw and focused on her magics, and found where his skin was being peeled back by Ren's oppressive power. [color=teal]<Stay. Tough. I. Have. Your. Back.>[/color] It was Keearah. Whatever damage Ren had done to him faded, and he felt himself filled with energy. [color=teal]<I. Draw. Too. I. Cover. You.>[/color]

Tku heard Keearah's words and he felt her power behind him. He only had one thing he could do, what he had done against the ven-demon. [color=734960][i]I thank you Keearah, it always seems to be me and you against a monster.[/i][/color]

He could never describe what this was like to view. Everytime, what he felt became slower, his vision would shift. It was like the world had become for his viewing. This time it felt differenct, Ren was there but he wasn't it was a nest of many beautiful eggs. Some so large and colorful they seemed unnatural. Some were cracked and smelled foul. He could 'feel' what they were and he was disgusted with the treasures he was bestowed with. But there was one that stood out. 

It was black with small gold specs. It had a luster and seemed weighty despite it's average size. It sat on other broken eggs like it was the cause. His right to rule was there. His power that he had over others was there. That was Dami's judgement and how Tku hated that it was handed to a man so wicked. 

[color=734960][i]You have the power of judgement. I may not be blessed like you but I can steal it in the name of Ahn-Dami.[/i][/color]

He plucked the egg out and felt it's power transfer to him, [color=734960]"How fickle you connection to Dami is Ren!"[/color] Tku laughed at him as he stole a treasure so close to his heart.

Upon seeing the blood, Mahal's eyes widened in shock. It was like the moment she had dropped a clay pot. A silent comprehension of what happened stirred deep in her mind and the world seemed to pause for a moment. She found the strangest part wasn't the blood, but the fact it wasn't hers. Her reddened fingers curled up into a fist. She didn't know him nearly to the degree his friends did, but she had known him.

Eyes snapped up and met the monster's. There was no fear hidden there, unlike the first time on the ship. Fury burned in her gaze as she felt the pinch message across her skin. Her eyes darted to Alab's remains and sharply inhaled.

[color=#B8860B]"You're going to pay for that."[/color] She growled while Ren and Tku engaged in a drawing war. Before the carcass was lifted, Mahal drew. She wasn't going to let Alab's sacrifice be in vain. Using her magnetic and kinetic, she seized the grenades then threw them full force at Ren's burning aura.

[color=#B8860B]"Sikuaq,"[/color] She sonically shouted as she turned to face the coming reinforcements. Ngiti, Supok, and Puno had abruptly appeared at her side with fangs bared against the coming threat.

For a moment, Ren felt it: the other mage let go. He began to draw ferociously from Tku, peeling up the skin near his fingers, but then he felt it: a burning behind his ears. It stung! He grimaced and fought back, inuring his manas to being drawn from, and it was an easy battle to win. [color=E4B844][i]A fucking cripple.[/i][/color] He could not sense his assailant within range, which meant that it was an opportunistic tethered. The thing was, she was [i]weak[/i]. He turned his attention back to the bloodchild, who seemed to be in a trancelike state, needing little of his actual strength to fight off the tethered's paltry attack.

And that was when he felt it: something inside of him... shifted. These people didn't fear him, which was wrong, because they should have. It made them second-guess their decisions. It made them weaker than they already were. It was a reminder of his superiority and made it greater than it already was. He stepped forward to punish the cowardly tethered by crushing the bloodchild she protected once and for all.

In doing so, he did not pay attention to Mahal Agha. He had not noticed a man named Alab, except when he had killed him. Together, their work had brought into being a plan inelegant and simple, but [i]deadly[/i] effective. A simple satchel hurtled his way, prepared by Alab and thrown by Mahal's hand, and Ren paid it little heed, for it would burn up against his blazing aura, as had everything else. It was only when that insufferable idiot, Kashani, shouted a warning that he realized just what it was. 

Ren burst free of the ground, propelling himself away and drawing as much from the explosion as he could, but it was not enough. Fire washed over him, roiling and writhing and peeling back his hair and his clothing and skin. But then the viceroy was there, drawing from the flames with him. Then, a man named Aksoy - nobody, really - stepped into the fire and took all of it: the last and greatest act of his otherwise inconsequential life. Ren staggered back, scorched and blackened. He extinguished the flames in his hair and robes. His skin was scalded and covered in soot. There were welts and sores. He heaved a pained, unsteady breath and stood for a moment, stalk-still. He would give that man's family a pension for life. 

He would give these [i]nothings[/i] - these subhuman [i]vermin[/i] - only death. He steadied himself and straightened and, already, a binder was working on him. His hair returned. His clothes began knitting themselves back together. His fists clenched and there was no more cavalier cruelty left in his eyes. He was murderous, now: straight murderous.

Five mages, each capable in his or her own right: they arrayed themselves around Tku and Mahal and their animals. One was a healer, and she was young and fair for a Virangish. Another two were twins, and perhaps a quarter yasoi. The fourth was a tall, stern-looking man of middle age, drawn from the local population, and the fifth and final was a woman of similar years, hair gone prematurely white.

[b]"It's seven on two,"[/b] shouted the tall one. [b]"Stand down!"[/b] The others were preparing spells, ready to launch them, but most did not have the chance. One of the twins wobbled where he stood and began hurling uncontrollably. He collapsed in a puddle of his own bloody vomit. The second burst into flames, screaming and writhing. None of the people before them had raised so much as a hand yet, at nearly the exact same moment, Mahal's trio of hounds leapt onto the tall one and took him to the ground, snarling and mauling him. The white-haired woman made to attack them and save her ally, but then there was a dragon - Sikuaq - and she was brought to death's doorstep by its fire. 

The young healer seemed conflicted between moving to help them and finishing the last of her work on Ren until Tku stepped into her path. She let out a high-pitched scream of agony as most of the skin along her left side was ripped away and her arm disintegrated under a dark bolt. She fell to the ground, horribly maimed, curling up into the fetal position and sobbing.

Did Ren or the viceroy so much as lift a hand to help? The former seemed to be preparing a special explosive spell, and the latter had no choice but to draw away the flames of another dragon as it came sweeping down. This, he did with a mixture of skill and Reshta-blessed good fortune. 

[color=E4B844]"On your feet, healer!"[/color] bellowed the vizier's grandson. [color=E4B844]"You are not finished with me."[/color]

Her eyes bulged in pain and incredulity. Her arm - a thing she had always had, that she had been born with - was gone.  She started to numb and uncurl herself. There were others in [i]far[/i] greater need than Lord Baykara, herself included. 

[color=E4B844]"You are required!"[/color] he bellowed, charging some impossibly grand chemical spell. [color=E4B844]"Be useful!"[/color]

[color=magenta]"I am sorry, my lord,"[/color] she grated, staggering haggardly to her feet. [color=magenta]"I will heal."[/color] Lord Kashani did not need healing and there were the others, who had been as family to her, who needed it far more than a man with a bad sunburn and some tattered clothes. For a moment, she [i]hated[/i] him: truly and intensely and, even if it were to mean that they lost, she wished he would die. [color=magenta]"But them first,"[/color] she added in a small voice, reaching out with her magics for the twins. 

Then, she was upside-down, and it didn't make sense. She could see her own feet and she wondered why as the world faded. [color=E4B844]"Fetch me Joliin!"[/color] bellowed Ren, who had nearly lost control of the spell he was preparing in order to deal with the direct insubordination of one of his inferiors.

Kashani's eyes went wide. [color=CD5C5C]"Did you just [i]kill[/i] one of my people!?"[/color] he called, trying to sound authoritative and angered. Yet, the alarm shone clearly through in his voice and bearing.

[color=E4B844]"Bring better people, who can fight and follow orders,"[/color] Ren grunted. 

[color=CD5C5C]"You've no right, you mad dog!"[/color] snarled the viceroy, perhaps drunk on his own authority, for he was no match for Ren. Instead, from his own hands, came the energy to heal the woman who had been burnt by the dragon. [color=CD5C5C]"On your feet, squad! We leave this fool to his own fate."[/color] Perhaps Ren did not kill him as he left because of his name, or maybe he was too busy preparing to unleash his great spell. A runner was already on his way to fetch a new healer, too - perhaps this 'Joliin' - but Ren's demand was then met by another...

Black King had fallen. Or so Zarina believed until she saw the evidence of his demise. Lest he was a demon, something did not fit the landscape she was taking in. No, this was a man, she just knew it. The initially conclusion was that nothing was hit, until she noticed the evidence of blood on the end of her blade. Something HAD been struck. He was still alive. She had to-

The investigation was cut short. The horned warrior turned her head to acknowledge something further in the distance. Her blade was telekinetically sheathed on her back so she could properly brush herself off and warp out of the new empty battle zone, making for the phenomenon that had caught her attention.

Ertan Kashani, Ren Baykara and a small group of loyal Virangish soldiers had engaged some of the rebels' finest - some of her friends. Well, perhaps such was a misnomer in this war. It was about time overwhelming force was utilized.

Zarina landed a few yards from Ren with a loud, shockwave-inducing impact. The bit of dust clouds she had created from her entrance made her arrival all the more dramatic as it cleared away.

[color=#E5E4E2]“I never thought I'd see you struggle, Ren.”[/color] the dragon addressed him with a degree of palpable familiarity. [color=#E5E4E2]“Before they even shoot their worst shot too.”[/color]

Amber eyes found Tku first, and the evidence of the deceased, albino thresher. There was also one of their own, killed from she had clearly seen as Ren's doing. Any reaction was kept internal with only a quarter-lidded, utterly detached look reigning supreme on her visage. [color=#E5E4E2]“Let's make this quick.”[/color]

[color=E4B844]"Shut up and either do something or get out of my way,"[/color] Ren grunted. [color=E4B844]"These are their best. We deal with them, we win."[/color]

They were alone against Zarina and Ren: Tku and Mahal. Kidlat was circling about on his dragon, taking stock of the new arrival. It was the demon herself: the one to whom they sacrificed human flesh. For a moment, he felt a shiver of terror. To fight against that... [i]thing[/i] was death, plain and simple, and yet... Pictor fought. Mahal fought. Their animals did so as well. There was someone else, further away, who had contributed as well, he was sure of it. 

Both Baykara and the demon, though: there was no chance of victory. It was time to retreat. [color=8181F7]"I coper you!"[/color] Kidlat shouted as he swept low over the ground. [color=8181F7]"You run!"[/color]

He felt the massive buildup of static moments before it struck, and jerked Bonadeuce's reins out of the way. A colossal column of lightning split the sky in two, the flash blinding to all in the vicinity, the heat from it boiling and radiating outward as it struck Ren square. For a moment, the energy that he was gathering roiled as smoke and steam filled the area and fires guttered in the rain. It cleared to reveal him standing there, his clothes burnt and scored, but otherwise unscathed from the massive attack. 

[color=E4B844]"Occupy them,"[/color] Ren commanded Zarina and, with that, he opened his hands in a V-shape and unleashed a gargantuan channeled explosion. It spread outwards in a cone faster than the eye could actively track it, white hot and blinding, heading for each of his adversaries.

Zarina flinched, but only slightly, when the lightening descended on her ally - her closest eye closed and her body ever slightly leaned to the opposite direction. He was alive and she knew one needed far more to kill this creature of a man. 

[color=#E5E4E2]“Yeah.”[/color] once again, her gaze found Mahal and Tku. She eventually settled for the former and her menagerie of animals made to be sacrificed to the apex predators of Virang. A shred of discontent was visible on her expression. [color=#E5E4E2]“Sure thing.”[/color]

The demon darted toward the Palaparese-Virangish girl, and her fellow student, with breakneck speed and annhilating the earth beneath her feet as she ejected herself. She had the full intention of gut-punching Mahal.

Ren's indiscriminate and explosive attack came and Raffaella bolted, only just escaping its destructive radius and [i]merely[/i] being knocked to the ground, breathless. At this point, killing Ren Baykara could hardly be considered treason, but Zarina continued to work with him for the time being. Raffaella kept herself hidden and waited—for what, precisely, she didn't know. She would assist Zarina from the shadows and wait for [i]some[/i] kind of signal.

Upon witnessing their hard work vanish upon Ren, Mahal's jaw tensed. It had looked like a lot, but the man shrugged it off like nothing. The gaze in his eyes sent a shiver down her instincts. They weren't going to survive this. No, the only way they'd win was if they all went down together and even that felt like hopeful wishing.

Mahal pushed down her need to run. There was nowhere to go as the Virangish surrounded them, calling to surrender. She gave her answer clearly with a sharp command. Her hounds went after one man while her snow wyvern went after another. The cruelty and callousness had been put on display with the minor bickering as the viceroy fucked off. That left the biggest threats to deal with.

A shout to retreat came from above, but it didn’t matter. Ren commanded and then the yawà  set her inhuman eyes upon Mahal and struck faster than a goma hunting a monkey. Not even her animals had time to react. As the clawed fist impacted, all the wind left her lungs. Her ribs shook then cracked underneath the pressure. One even broke. Not the first time she’d been laid out in one hit. Spotting the explosive attack raining down, she let the mockery of nature hit her. The blow’s momentum  carried her farther than her own magic could. Applying binding and kinetic, she attempted to ease the aftermath on her flesh. 

Mahal was sent flying across the landscape. She rolled to a stop upon all fours. Her legs forced themselves underneath her and she pushed back upright, gasping for a breath. She wasn’t dying without making a mark. Letting that fuel her core, she managed to stand upright and raise her daggers. A damp tentacle wrapped about her neck as Diyablos rose to help. 

When the attack hit, her dogs bolted out of the attack’s range. Puno bunched up her middle before springing toward the edge closest to Mahal. She gave a concerned whine before she sought the rest of her pack. Ngiti raced behind Supok who slowed enough for him to catch up to her. With a kinetic pop, she zoomed out there with the white smiler hot on her heels.

In the blink of an eye, Eshiran was given four hundred souls to embrace. Ren stood in place, the backblast whipping his short hair about, a handful of unfortunate allies burned from existence among the hundreds of enemies. Even Ertan Kashani himself, the viceroy, was forced to step in and defend one of his guardians, who had yet to fully recover from the rebels' attacks.

Raffaella, hiding in the shadows, was forced to flee, as was Fiske. How much longer could they remain hidden? How much longer could they allow this to continue? It was becoming ever clearer that Zarina would not raise her hand against Ren. Even as far away as Marco and Marceline, the power of the blast was felt, both needing to brace themselves and the latter absorb the massive shockwave.

Mahal's hounds had no choice but to run at full speed, and Sikuaq fled up into the clouds, along with Bonadeuce and his rider. Mahal herself was only spared, indirectly, as Zarina swept in and casually batted her to the side like a chewtoy. She landed, breathless, on the ground some fifty yards distant, two ribs broken and struggling to stay conscious. 

Tku got the worst of it, and that was by design. He had dared try to match Ren strength for strength. The vast burning heat washed over him in its entirety and he vanished within it, drawing every bit that he could. When the cataclysm cleared and people blinked and staggered about, he lay dead on the ground...

Or so it initially appeared. He had drawn enough away to survive, though he was burnt almost beyond recognition. Ren raised his chin imperiously Zarina's way. [color=E4B844]"Clean them up,"[/color] he instructed, turning his attention towards the dragon rider who had been harassing him for some time. 

Ren reached into the air, drawing an absurd amount of energy once more, and closed his fist. Bonadeuce shrieked and wheeled, the corner of his left wing collapsing, and he spiraled towards the ground, his rider clinging to him for precious life and trying to ease the wounded and panicked animal from its death spiral with limited magics of his own.

Then, beside Ren, a tall bony yasoi girl appeared, a ragged blindfold over her eyes. She bowed low, breath heavy. [color=ECF6CE]"I am here, master."[/color]

[color=E4B844]"Heal me, Joliin, and then kill them."[/color]

The yasoi's head did not more, for she could not see them anyway, but one got the sense that she was sweeping her master's enemies with her magic. She swallowed. There was a pause, and then she nodded, already starting to heal him. [color=ECF6CE]"As you command."[/color]

What they did not see - what they could not have noticed, for they were all busy attending to themselves - was the skin regrowing on Tku's battered form, the bones resetting and the hair snaking back down his shoulders. Someone was healing him, or perhaps he was healing himself. 

The field was Zarina's and Mahal's at the moment... and Ren's.

Focus... Mahal screamed at herself. Focus. Each breath felt like she was inhaling glass as she clenched her ribs. It would take some time before her animals came back. Using binding, she focused on healing herself. Bone snapped back into place as her flesh faded back into its sun kissed color.

Zarina felt the bones crack against the knuckles' scales, a loud set of pops typical of ribs before sending that young woman flying away - a far better fate than what Tku was to experience. He was unlucky, as were many, many others. The dragon herself was not spared the calamitous unleashing of energy and had to rapidly draw it all while expelling it under the form of steam from her heated up scales. 

[color=#E5E4E2]“Fucking Baykara ...”[/color] she mumbled under her steaming breath. She had to defend herself before she could focus on the rest, and only once the dust settled did she realize the extent of the casualties. Flabbergasted, Zarina needed a moment to register the command. 

Tku lied there, nearly dead. A horrible sight. An easy kill. Her jaw clenched and nails dug into her palm. Still, her resolve had to survive this storm.

No, she had to focus on what she started. Mahal. The dragon whistled to get her attention, as well as the pets'. She was also dosing them internally with anesthetics.

Mahal's eyes snapped on the 'dragon', her lips curled. A sense of drowsiness hit her mind causing her eyes to drop a bit. Her heart pounded against her chest as she shook herself, trying to pull out of it. Magnetic and chemical poured through her body as the sensation faded. "I expected more." 

Her attention shifted from the yawa to the image of her advancing hounds. Before her eyes, Puno, Supok, then Ngiti abrupt crumbled into a heap among the chaos. Shortly after, her snow wyvern sank from her flight and crashed. Mahal's hearted stopped and her form stiffened. They were... dead? They were too far away for her tell they were still breathing. Based on what she had witnessed before, it was unlikely they survived. 

A new wave of anger rolled off her. 

Without missing a beat and tears in her eyes, she drew in heat all around her. It flowed along her skin and collected in her foot. Lifting it high, she slammed it hard into the ground and sent a shockwave right at... Ren. From what she could see, he was distracted and still charging. If he got another attack there would be no one left standing.

The last thing that Kidlat recalled, he had been falling, trying desperately to slow Bonadeuce. There'd been rushing green and the smack of branches and they had crash-landed. The moment that his head cleared and he stumbled free, thankful that his dragon was only recoverably wounded, a yasoi girl he did not recognize was shooting lightning at him. It was all that he and his injured steed could do to defend it. They tried - [i]Gods,[/i] how they tried - but it was not enough, and unconsciousness claimed them both.

[color=E4B844]"'Kill' does not mean 'incapacitate', slave,"[/color] Ren shouted at Joliin, and the girl seemed to shrink two sizes. [color=E4B844]"Are you creatively reinterpreting my orders?"[/color] She squeaked an apology and rushed over towards her downed target, mostly out of sight within the trees. Ren, paying her little more heed, continued to draw power and prepare a second attack, aiming this one at the rebel back lines, where their leadership lay. The Agha girl tried to attack him with a shockwave spell, but he concentrated and strained, and absorbed its energy cleanly into his budding blockbuster. Did he shoot a smug smile that seemed to say, 'thanks for the free boost' her way, or was such a display beneath him and merely her perception.

Now, Zarina was free to deal with Tku before he came to. Now, the field was nearly theirs. He would kill that pissant Dani and supersede that idiot, Ertan Kashani, and this would be the final death of the rebellion and a victory for him: Ren Baykara.

Tku had little ability to stop the attack. A regenerating shield, Hungering shield, Bane of Fire. It all had little outcome in his demise as Ren's attack took him. His body thoroughly burned and his bones shattered from the impact. On the battlefield, there was little difference between loosing consciousness and dying.

In his waning moments, Tku was relieved to have passed on. What hadn't he given to the cause? His brush, his knowledge, his blood. Nothing he had, the republic didn't have access to. He had trained dozens to become binders. He broke his oath and slayed dozens of mages. He had let a catastrophe live and she slaughtered hundreds of his allies. He had accepted his actions of mercy was wrong. 

Yet he was still delusioned. He still saw Zarina sitting by the window near her yard, watching her pets live a life better than most artisan's could hope for. It was a blindingly sweet vision that grasped at his mind as he laid there on the battlefield. He turned to show his friends this is what people were like without war but they were just hollow faces. 

Gani, Bato, Dalisay, Kidlat, Alad, Desmond, Mahal, Marceline, Keearah. They were all gone. All loss to his hope to hold onto this. If Zarina could slaughter so many without a thought, then he could to, then maybe if he set his mind somewhere so far away, he could still have that sweet memory.

His eyes came back as he saw all the people he knew gone. His eyes landed on Ren, the ire of so much hate. All that energy he had built up to kill thousands. His hand aimed at him as he called on his forbidden magics to ruin him.

Mahal launched an attack one Zarina was quick to side-step, only to realize it wasn't directed at her, but at Ren to interrupt his second volley of death. An attack she was not looking forward to. An attack she could not prepare for so long as she remained in this man's range. Terrible, truly.

The Palaparese beastmaster was not allowed to avert her gaze as an overwhelming pressure induced by the demon's drawing asphyxiated her of a chance to properly prepare and assist her associate. Something mighty was brewing in her too.

Two gargantuan attacks were coming, with the dragon's unique skills allowing for an accelerated fast-track to essentially match Ren's release. 

[color=#E5E4E2]“Should have grabbed them and run.”[/color] she uttered, expressionless. [color=#E5E4E2]“Sorry.”[/color] her hand reached for the handle of her legendary buster sword.

A soldier ran from his post towards the Viceroy. He seemed to be utterly distressed. [color=FF00FF]"Lord Viceroy! . . Viceroy  sir!"[/color] He was unsure on what title to even use during his panic. Through his rush towards him, he stumbled, barely staying on his feet by clinging to he shirt. 

[color=FF00FF]"Hassan, my friend! He. . . he."[/color] Tears began to build up on the sides of the young soldier's eyes. [color=FF00FF]"He was shepherded by Ön-Öjeran. . ."[/color] The small tears began to flow in a sheer cry. [color=FF00FF]"But not by the heathens! . . By our own. ."[/color] 

His face was one of pure agony, he was young. If his friend was so young as well, such a bright spark snuffed out too early. The soldier's voice began to crack through the dispair. [color=FF00FF]"Can we really ensure Vaşdal won't wake up from a nightmare now?"[/color]

Ertan Kashani was a hero or, at least, that was what he had always considered himself and been thought of as. It was, in this context, shameful to run, but he had presented it well: optics were everything. He would not aid a supposed 'ally' who had killed one of his own, who laid waste indiscriminately to the battlefield. 

Now, there was a young man begging him to do something about Ren: a believer in his legend. Ertan swallowed. He wanted to. He truly did. That man was [i]vile[/i].

For a moment, he did a double take at the youth. He thought he'd noticed something uncanny for a moment, but it was just his overstimulation. [color=CD5C5C]"Boy, that man is stronger than me,"[/color] he admitted with some shame. [color=CD5C5C]"Not by so much, but he is, and we cannot act directly."[/color] The viceroy rose, Andelib, Bedreddin, Beşer, and Perviz nearly done healing themselves. They nodded as one. [color=CD5C5C]"I will not betray my nation and, right now, we need him."[/color] His voice lowered and he addressed his quartet as much as he did this newcomer. His eyes narrowed. [color=CD5C5C]"But we can set up his demise."[/color]

Demise, indeed, was first and foremost on Tku's mind: the final vestiges of the binder he had been slipping away as he focused on Ren Baykara with murderous intent and cruel magics sparking in the air. In truth, there was no living target in this war more deserving.

Joliin arrived to find an unconscious Kidlat, his imminent demise in her hands. For a moment, her knobby knees knocked together and her hands wrung themselves. A tear slipped free from behind her blindfold and she crouched. [color=ECF6CE]"I-I'm s-sorry,"[/color] she stammered, voice at a whisper. [color=ECF6CE]"I do... don't know you, but I... I have to l-listen to him."[/color] She swallowed. [color=ECF6CE]"I p-promise I will make it q-quick."[/color]

Zarina, finally, seemed to have resolved herself to Mahal's demise. After blunting the lesser beastmaster's attack, she drew her sword and launched forward to finish the Palaparese and her animals. Nobody had wanted this, but here they stood.

As Ren absorbed her attack and shifted the energy, Mahal cursed her weakness. A force swelled in her chest as her manas began to fight against the overwhelming pressure in her lungs. Her eyes whipped back and forth, struggling to think against the haze building in her head. Tku's hand snapped up at Ren leaving her to keep the yawa's attention. 

 [color=#B8860B] "Wouldn't have mattered..."[/color] She struggled to reply, trying to counter it. [color=#B8860B] "Don't mock me..."[/color]

Hopefully Tku could stop Ren. Her eyes shifted to see the yasoi woman disappear after Kidlat, but she couldn't save him. Couldn't save even herself. Lightning began to flicker across her daggers as the beastial woman charged. At least she tried to be more than she was born to be. Even if it ended in ashes. 

She instinctively pulled her ground octopus behind her back. He tensed and fought, but couldn't win. Mahal expected to feel the familiar slice of a blade digging into her flesh. The blood dripping from her insides and her sight dimming. She expected to be on the ground as the last of her breath escaped. 

However... There wasn't any pain. No blood. No impact as a massive force of energy erupted between them. Something vomited froth from it and collided with her executioner. If she thought Ren was a monster, this... thing showed it without any restraint. Zarina went down with the smallest of struggles. 

Kidlat. Mahal's attention snapped toward the direction she saw the man go down before she rushed off.

Tku's attempt at Ren was sophomoric at best. He could barely make any traction against his mana. Another failed attempt and another lost chance. He continued his pull as a dozen or so attacks centered around Ren and he pulled some of his power away to defend. He wasn't sure what happened but he drew some of Ren's flesh and his mana went haywire trying to charge and defend.

Ertan snuck. Tku let loose. Joliin drew. Zarina charged. And then...

It was a reverberation through space and time. Zarina might've felt it had she not been so dagger-focused on Mahal. Ren might've noticed, had he not been preparing something to make Marhazannet blush. Tku felt it, however, but he did not yet know what to make of it. In any case, there was only one thing left for him to do anyhow: follow through.

Reality shredded right in front of Zarina and a colossus of a man appeared in her path. With a mighty bestial roar, he grabbed her onrushing form and swung her in a half-moon arc, slamming her into the ground with boneshattering force. He kept his grip on her ankle as she began to quickly rise, and then he slammed her again, accelerating her with absurd amounts of kinetic force. She recovered midway, slashing at his immense form with her sword and opening his belly up, but it almost didn't seem to matter. He got her in a headlock, even as her sharpened elbow dug into his side repeatedly. His massive arms flexed and her neck snapped and he dropped her there, limp and broken.

He withdrew, from a crude sheath across his back, an enormous butcher's blade and turned about. Steam rose from the eyes and mouth of an eerie yellow mask with a rictus grin, and from the gaping wound in his stomach. The hulking figure's chest heaved and wild brown hair stuck out from edges of his mask like some kind of fell sun. Most did not know this new monster but, perhaps, one or two of them had an inkling.

He was Volto Giallo: [b]Sorriso[/b].

It had to be done. There was no other way to escalate things. The only way to-

The tempest came under the form of a brutish monster of a man. One that effortlessly stifled Zarina's efforts to make a decisive blow to the enemy. One that ragdolled her in spite of her vicious protests and attempts at gutting the masked beast. It ended with the dragon helplessly grasping for an escape. The thing never relented. 

[i]Crack.[/i]

Every muscle loosened. The horned warrior fell to the floor, cheek first.

Nilay watched it all unfold, just as helpless as the creature that was being manhandled until the very end by this abomination. What could she even do about this? This THING was even worse than the fiend that had taken Fedouah. So, so much worse.

All she could do was remain shrouded, approach her fallen comrade, and confirm what she feared the most. Was there a pulse? A flicker of light?

Their plan had both succeeded and failed almost simultaneously.

Faiskal's plan was working, he was so close that he could finally complete the mission. . . even with a former enemy turning against his vile ally. All the pieces for his victory were in motion.

Then that [b]thing[/b]! It appeared out of nowhere and used Zarina like a toy. Memories flooded back in the boy's mind. [color=FF00FF]"No, no. . . no no no no no. Not him."[/color] His entire plan, everything that he set in motion. It felt like it was all falling apart. This feral monster should not be here! He was not told he would be here!

Was this part of the plan? Was he supposed to fail?

Fiske's hand shook, his eyes focussed on it. The hands were too pale, his illusion was faltering under the mental pressure. That could not happen! He could not falter now, not even when this demon of a man. . was here.

Watching the battle unfold, Raffie had begun to wonder why they needed Ren to achieve victory. This was it—the rebellion's hidden ace. This was the monster they needed Ren to slay, ideally to trade his life for that of this abomination. The word from the Viceroy was all she needed for a signal—but before she could think of who to target first, her priority was Zarina, lying in a heap on the ground. An unseen ally was healing her—probably an allied tethered—but she was not making nearly enough progress for Raffie's liking.

[color=red]"MEND,"[/color] she commanded, reaching out with the power she had only just begun to learn.

It was very much beyond Nilay's skills to address such a grievous wound. She did her best with the bone, but the nerves were a different beast entirely. Too much of her concentration was dedicated to the heal that her shroud faltered until she was left fully exposed to the world. It wasn't enough, though.

But then came an intervention, seeming to be of divine providence, as it came in the form of a singular, spoken word. Nilay's - the very woman who had assaulted Raffaella moments ago - eyes met with the healer's. All she could do was nod.

From barely conscious to revitalized with a vengeance, the restored dragon slammed her fist onto the dirt and forced herself back up with Nilay's assistance.

[color=#E5E4E2]“He's worse than the other one. Much worse.”[/color] determined Zarina as she extended her hand to her side.

[color=#342869]“What's the plan, then?”[/color] inquired Nilay, hand back into her cloak and eager to return into the realm of the unseen. 

[color=#E5E4E2]“Still the same. We got our best here for a reason.”[/color] the Hocho 99 snapped into her hand. [color=#E5E4E2]“Don't get caught.”[/color]

The horned warrior than regarded Raffie from afar. No words, merely her blade being pointed right at the rugged masked horror that had very nearly killed her. This was their endgame. They needed everything for this unholy creature.

Sorriso tilted his head as Zarina fell, regarding Ren but, before he could do anything, There were dozens of attacks convering on the Virangishman. Sorriso disappeared from where he'd been standing and reappeared some yards away. Ren, busy charging his cataclysmic spell, strained to discern which - if any - were illusions, and that left him open to Tku's blood magic. He yelped and leapt back, the stored energy erupting violently and throwing him free. He sailed through the air, backflipped, and landed in a crouch, spitting and wiping a bloodied nose with the back of his sleeve. [color=E4B844]"Joliin!!!"[/color] he bellowed, [color=E4B844]"You useless knife-ear, where are you!? Your master requires your services!"[/color]

Meanwhile, Zarina's situation had improved, for Sorriso had failed to actually finish her and Raffaella and Nilay had come to her aid. Mahal had given up her chance to finish the job and decided to save Kidlat instead. She was, at present, making headway on that front. 

The Yellow Volto turned and glanced over his shoulder at Tku, letting out a snort. [color=yellow]"Good work, Sakengan."[/color] He twisted back and heaved his massive blade up until it was resting on his shoulder. [color=yellow]"Not done yet, though, and the bitch is gonna be back."[/color] He raised his chin in her general direction.

Tku's eye twitched, [color=734960]"I'm Obenjan."[/color]

[color=yellow]"Oh, sorry, kid,"[/color] grunted Sorriso, and there seemed to be some genuine sympathy in his voice. He reached out and squeezed Tku on the shoulder. [color=yellow]"Eskandish here. Used to being dumped on."[/color]

[color=734960]"It's fine, the dirt lamb from your lands is very under valued."[/color] He offered what he knew and could eat. Dairy and cheese were... unagreeable. Tku drew in more dark and opened a hole for the Eskandish warrior to drink from.

Then, the hulking brute turned to Ren. [color=yellow]"Hey you, shithead!"[/color] he called. [color=yellow]"Quick an' painless or slow an' painful?"[/color]

The bitch was indeed back.

[color=#E5E4E2]“Give me a pick-me-up.”[/color] Zarina asked of Nilay, and the assassin obliged with a blessing of vigor. An overgrowth of scales enveloped the dragon's form, filling her bestial vitality and resilience. 

It was time. Ren's presence was ever the malignant nuisance, but she made due. Now she knew who her enemy was. Crouching and launching herself toward the beast of a Volti, she sought to bisect the man with her oversized bustersword. 

[color=#E5E4E2]“What about you, big man?!”[/color]

Sorriso said no more. He merely took in, greedily, what he could from the VOID... but then it dried up. It trailed off and he could not take more. Ren appeared beside him, sword in hand, slashing for the behemoth, and Sorriso stepped to the side with uncanny speed, raised his fist, and punched the blade aside. It flew out of Ren's hand and the Virangishman was spun around and staggered. [color=yellow]"You ever even train with that thing?"[/color] the Volto taunted, but then there was one who [i]had[/i] trained with a blade for certain.

Zarina's initial attempt was deftly sidestepped and parried, but she was not easily countered.

Sorriso rocketed away into the air, where the two might not corner him as easily, and he began drawing for a [i]gargantuan[/i] counterattack. Meanwhile, Mahal, Tku, Raffie, Fiske, and a newly-recovered Kidlat were left below to collect themselves and see how they might be able to make a difference.

Ren was just about to do it. His entire focus was singlehandedly on Sorriso. He had bullied his way into the giant's mind and was flooding it with chemical imbalances when he felt the first stab. A half-dozen tiny razor-sharp splinters of... [i]something[/i] plowed through him, leaving punctures and growing spots of blood where he floated, midair. He burnt the rest away, but it was... not good. Careless. He coughed up blood and, as he looked down to regard where it speckled his hand, he noticed that that hand was trembling. 

Was it rage? Was it fear?

Or Both? He left Zarina to play with Sorriso and he reached out towards Tku with murder on his mind.

Zarina couldn't quite believe it. Ren was their best bet to take down any sort of trump card the enemy side could reveal should she work with him. And yet here he was, hurt, shivering and eventually disengaging to leave the dragon alone with the butcher.

[color=#E5E4E2]“Un-fucking-believable.”[/color] she growled under her breath.

But she was committed. Her less dominant hand brushed through the flat surface of her blade, coating it with invisible coldfire before readying it. No temporal magic, no tricks. Only sheer brutality, evidenced by the downward slash she dedicated to the Volti, one that'd unleash a shockwave of unseen flames. This man was undeniably stronger, but she also had allies as well as a big fucking sword for big fucking monsters.

These fools thought that he was another Yvain or Jomurr, or run of the mill arrogant noble-blooded prat. It was their mistake. With a smug sneer, Ren Baykara laid one hand upon his chest and, with a grunt, pulled the blades out. [color=E4B844][i]Curse of the Wolf. Quaint.[/i][/color] A brief purification with heat and then Ön-Oraf came to him as commanded. His wounds closed and his visage settled and all was well once more. 

Zarina was, that very moment, slashing for the fat man, trying to kill him. She would fail. Ren could see it. Sorriso was far too strong to be a mere mortal and the thought of that made his blood pump. He was close to such levels of power. This man was a half-step below mortal Gods like Hugo Hunghorasz himself. [color=E4B844][i]I will defeat you and take your place,[/i][/color] he promised himself.  Then, he reached out with all of his capacity and stopped Sorriso's elegant parry mid-action. 

Zarina's slash struck true.

What should have been a clash of strength with the burly masked freak coming on top ended with Zarina's blade digging into his shoulder and cleaning bisecting the man down to his thigh. It was swift with the interior completely cauterized by the coldfire, making it essentially the cleanest cut she had ever had to make. 

The Volto, now split in two, fell apart in two simultaneous thuds and a clanging of his rusty cleaver. 

The fat man was dead, his completely shut and still visible half-lungs visible. A quick execution, just as she had hoped. She did not want to have to drag another fight with these masked fiends. With a deep inhale, Zarina lifted her blade and let it lean over her shoulder. There was still work to do, namely the interloper that caused so much trouble to the inquisitors, and of course, those she called her 'friends.'

She'd done it. The monster was cleaved in two with such seeming ease that it beggared belief. Raffie's eyes went wide with shock and a little bit of fear, but, she quickly recovered. She looked Zarina's way with a lot of admiration and a little regret. [color=red][i]Sorry, Zazzy, but this has to happen. Virang needs this. I need this. [b]We[/b] need this.[/i][/color]

Unseen, she struggled with this strange manner of magic that existed only on the periphery of her ability, but finally, after several failed attempts, she got it to take. [color=red]"REVOKE,"[/color] she commanded, reaching towards Ren from behind cover, a devious smile on her lips.

Ren did not know it, but there he was: as vulnerable as a one RAS peasant. The problem was that nobody else except for a secret ally of - perhaps - convenience knew either. 

They all had witnessed the mighty Sorriso fall, and things appeared nothing short of 'grim'. Zarina turned her gaze towards them. Ren did no such thing. With an immediate fury, he came hurtling for these [i]nothings[/i] that had caused people to question him, that had caused him to question [i]himself[/i] and his golden destiny.

Would Zarina join him in the attack or stand aside and allow the others to sort matters out amongst themselves? They had, in fact, precious little time to wonder or worry about that. Death was coming for them. Every bit of cavalier cruelty had disappeared from Ren's bearing and he was rabid. He fixed his eyes upon Tku and the Obenjan prepared to either defend himself or meet his maker. Whatever would be would be.

[color=598527]<Draw. From. Him.>[/color] The tethered only had time to send it to Tku, and it was brief. It relied upon the trust they had built over a year of knowing each other, and that would have to do. [color=598527]<Draw. Tku.>[/color]

To do so, however, he would need to leave himself completely vulnerable. To do so [i]substantially[/i], he would need a few more seconds, and someone would need to buy him those.

Mahal stared in disbelief as the Volto was sliced in half. A sick, twist of despair clung to her insides. At this point it had started to overwhelm her and added to the direness of the situation. She had little time to wallow in that when Ren turned his attention on Tku. The monster then levated right at the man. 

Not willing to lose anyone else in this fight, she looked to the ground. A few scattered cannonballs caught her attention. She stretched out her gift with magnetism. The balls vibrated and lifted, held by unseen hands. Gritting her teeth, she whipped her hands forward. They shot in sync toward the incoming man. 

 [i]Please... Please let this work.[/i] Mahal drawn her blades. Her eyes settled on where she knew the liver to be. Just in case the cannonballs didn't work.

Ren was not thinking strategically. Perhaps, were not all of his allies terrified of telling him something he did not wish to hear, they might've set him straight. However, nobody dared, and so he hurtled in towards Tku with murderous intent and little attention paid to his own safety.

A cannonball flew at him and he paid it little heed. It burned up in the intense chemical flames burning around his person. 

Then came a second, and he took a moment to blast it away. 

But there was a third and, in blasting it, he sent white-hot grapeshot spraying in a cone in his direction. It was no threat, or it wouldn't have been had Tku not been receiving a message, that very moment, that might spell Ren's doom. It took him about two seconds to deal the vicious shrapnel and Tku had to backpedal with all of the kinetic energy he could muster to avoid the Virangishman's furious charge.

Had Ren started to feel an itch on the back of his neck? It was no matter. He was mere yards from Tku and drawing a fantastic amount of energy. The Obenjan was about to be obliterated. 

A fourth cannonball came in late and burst into a dozen numpets, each an organic poison-coated morningstar. Ren blasted four of the living projectiles and had no choice but to arc away from the others. He was burning. His throat was pinching and dry and now his chin and chest itched furiously. Was this idiot trying to draw from him!?

In a moment, Tku Pictor would be blasted into splinters of bone and shreds of skin and flesh. His feeble attempts would amount to nothing. Ren was favoured of the Gods and the sultan. Ren had first convinced cautious old Osman to tread this path. At every crucial juncture, Ren had made certain that this war would escalate. Ren, himself, had set this battle into motion. It was the true start of his legend: one that would resound through the ages alongside that of Hugo Hunghorasz - No! It would stand [i]above[/i] even that of the paradigm in due time. 

He reached out with an incandescent hand, yet still unburnt. He reached for the Mezegolese's neck, to crush it and remove the head of this troublesome little man once and for all.

A ways away, in the brush at the edge of a forest, a girl who had suffered mightily under the yoke of Ren and those like him watched her projectiles take flight and do what they needed to do. She had done her part and bought her ally the time that he needed. Another, who had met him a few months ago, who loved him, had sent one more. They both watched with bated breath. This was it. It all came down to this.

3...

2...

1...

The giant sword still steamed from the unseen flames that gnaws at whatever matter, dirt of flesh had managed to get stuck on its surface. Zarina very nearly dropped the weapon, settling for little it drag right by her as she stared at the corpse she had just created. The fact that it didn't bleed still didn't feel right - perhaps she had gone too far with the spell or the method of execution. 

There was no point to dwell on it, that's what she thought.

Ren was fighting an entire war on his own. He could kill all these people, the fact that he hadn't was mildly surprising. At least until the dragon realized Raffaella was indeed pushing back against him and Nilay's brief absence had good cause. The beguiling little thing was going to be the downfall of the man chosen by the Gods. The idea made Zarina chuckle dryly. 

[color=#E5E4E2]“He's going to die.”[/color] the young dragon remarked with a voice loud enough to be captured by her unseen shadow. There was only apathy in Zarina's eyes as she witnessed the events unfold. 

Nilay briefly emerged out of concealment. [color=#342869]“The battle's not over.”[/color] but the moment she stepped forward, Zarina stopped her with her idle hand.

[color=#E5E4E2]“I'm injured.”[/color] claimed the swordswoman. Her hand had indeed evidence of first and second degree burns, likely from overdoing it with the coldfire. [color=#E5E4E2]“I need to be healed, or we may lose both our strong mages.”[/color] there was no inflection in her voice or slip in her intonation. She just flicked her wrist to bring attention back to it. 

Nilay pursed her lips, clearly conflicted, but obliged. They both watched.

Ren's hand closed in on Tku, even as the skin began to peel away from his neck and shoulders. He was mere inches away. It was not enough. The rebels were too slow. It was too late. He would kill the brave blood mage and heal himself and it would all be for naught. As he watched, Kidlat's eyes widened. He couldn't do anything - not in this short amount of time, no matter how long it [i]seemed[/i] to stretch. He couldn't look either. He began to coax Bonadeuce to take off. They would need him.

[color=734960]"Fuck,"[/color] Tku cursed as he saw the Eskandr go down. Ren, Zarina, Kishani, the soldiers surrounding him. It was over for Tku and Mahal. He readied himself for a suicide technique, turning himself into a thresher poison bomb and exploding it to gas the field. One last memory for White Empress. 

But that is when he got the message from Marci, a friend who left, came back, left again, and then returned for what would likely be the final battle. He would draw with all he could. His body was stressed and bruised from the constant use of blood and binding. His manas had swelled and slowed from drawing from the void. But he would keep going. He had to.

He was finding grip on his body, he wasn't resisting as much as before. What had happened for this to happen? His mind momentarily panicked, no one fighting for freedom had the magic to oppress him like this. He shook his anxiety off, this was an opportunity. He blasted backwards, with what he could. He centered his draw on the back of his neck. Sever, no, even damage it and Ren would fall like an invalid. 

Ren came at him with all the might he could manage, and it would be enough. Death was his greatest skill. Tku could see his life slipping as Ren closed in, but then cannonballs slammed into his aura of fire. It slowed him. A lowly numpet, lost in the battlefield, was hurled at his groin with cruel intent, and Ren released on it. Tku had the time, he could feel his progress, or so he thought.

Ren's constant blazing aura sucked into his body and his body ignited with speed. It was a magic Tku was unwise to. He was upon Tku's person before the magic could cut into his cervical. He grinned and his energy swelled. Tku nearly fell, but he kept drawing. Maybe he could open something up for someone after his demise.

Ren was practically on Tku. His face was wicked and murderous. Tku was not to succeed. But something odd happened. His speed and movement stopped. He fell into the mud, face first. His body strained against whatever took him, but it was too late.

Tku finished his draw, he could see this exposed spinal cord. It was gushing as the pressure released. It wouldn't be long until Ren passed to whatever hell or heaven he would be granted. [color=734960]"This is your end, lying in the mud, gargling on your own spit. For once, I take pleasure in your pain. In your death. I know you think that at least one heaven is waiting for you, but I will deny you even that."[/color]

Tku reached once more into the dying man's nest. All his beautiful gifts given were all nothing to a dying man. They would all mean nothing wherever he went. Except for one. He didn't know for sure but Tku would be damned if he let him pass on with entry from Dami. He plucked it once more, not for its power but to revoke it from Ren. 

[color=734960]"Rest in hell,"[/color] Tku stabbed a spear through his neck.

The corpse of a cataclysm in the shape of a man laid there. Experiencing such a brutal end was befitting of his sins, but it still caused Fiske to flinch. He assisted in the murder of the man he blamed everything on, but he felt no satisfaction. How could that yellow masked bastard experience such joy all the time? Was it because the kills were solely his?

Closing in on the almost legendary man from Zagromo who loomed over the body. [color=FF00FF]"I will not fight you."[/color] His voice familiar, yet the face was not. . It seems that one small section of his disguise was overlooked during his short panic from the fat bastard's entrance. Once at the corpse, he pulled his tool out. [color=FF00FF]"Ren Baykara is dead. May Ön-Öjeran soon get her well deserved rest, after guiding him to his deserved torment."[/color] The innocent brothers and sisters' souls may finally settle down in their heavens.

He regarded Tku before planning to leave. [color=FF00FF]"May Oraf-Şep keep you longer than him."[/color] The disguised traitor began to leave the murder scene.

His body was already mending itself back together, his armor reconstituted with the scales left of White Empress. The Virangish soldiers approach went half unnoticed. Tku was unworried of them because he was much more worried of Zarina. But that voice snapped him out of it.

He knew that voice. That courageous, cowardice voice and his binding only confirmed it. He had betrayed the rebels and caused terrible death. He may have been treachery incarnate to Tku. But he had also helped here, and with Karga, and with the idasque, and played the queen expertly. [color=734960][i]Why my friend! Did you betray the rebels because it grew too bloodied? Did you find us untrustworthy to talk to. You treacherous bastard.[/i][/color]

His mana rose and then settled. Had Tku not betrayed others when he argued for Zarina to be saved. Tku felt the cost of his actions when he had administered milk of the poppy to dozens of soldiers he couldn't save after her rampage. Fiske was a problem, yes, but here and now doesn't help the revolution. 

[color=734960]"And may Ipte fix your voice,"[/color] Tku spoke quietly before turning to Zarina.

When Tku struck down Ren, Mahal released the captive breath from within her chest. They did it. The reality seemed surreal as one of the most powerful mages died. Mahal's eyes flickered to the yawa. Not a claw had been lifted to help her ally. Why? It didn't matter. It wouldn't be long before the beast started to pick them off. 

She needed to regroup with Tku quickly. Together, they might at least do something. At least, she hoped.

There had been three-hundred-sixteen attempts, so far, to kill Dani. He was nearly as humbled as he was afraid. He had some of the Gift, but he was no blueblood. He was no academy student. They'd have succeeded were it not for the half-dozen people stalwartly defending him.

This was how it would be from now on, he had come to realize. To be a leader in troubled times was to be chased, always, by the jibbet, ever by the sword or the dagger. His focus was on the tactical map before him, spread across a table in the great room of a farmhouse that the army had taken for its command post. Messages came in and out and he had people to filter those for him. Only the most important reached his attention and, considering it, as he sent out an order for the left flank to be reinforced with some of the local volunteers, he could not help but feel a sense of loss. 

[color=B22222][i]One brings bounty to more when he steers a great ship, but he must steer it slowly, and the small village is often missed.[/i][/color] He could still picture his grandfather, that venerable old fisherman who had saved enough to send his promising son to school and have him graduate a scribe, sitting in front of his house on a rocker, straw hat on his brow and smoke curling from his pipe. 

The sleeper dragon was back in the air, despite Marceline's and Keearah's efforts to take it down. [color=B22222]"Do we have more tethered?"[/color] he demanded, but they were scrambling as it was. 

[color=FFBF00]"Would've been easier with Dalisay,"[/color] grunted an older man who stood near the room's corner, moving figures about on the board. He did not look up and Dani did not look back. [color=B22222]"We'll retrieve her from Sabu once we win,"[/color] he replied, busying himself with a report of Jack coming in, wounded. He had neutralized the cavalry charge and survived, and that was what they had needed of him. King was still missing in action and, if he had gone down, it was a blow. Smiler was down as well.

[color=FFBF00]"That dragon and Balik would both be dead if we'd done it earlier,"[/color] insisted the old man. [color=FFBF00]"The girl was innocent and you know it."[/color]

Dani did not have time for this. He sympathized - [i]truly[/i], he did - but there were a dozen other matters to attend to and she was, all things considered, relatively safe in a prison in the city. [color=B22222]"[i]They[/i] did not, though."[/color] He whirled on Gani. [color=B22222]"Okay? There were people in the rank and file who'd have killed her and others who'd have killed for her, and..."[/color] He trailed off. There was a pinching on his earlobe, trying to get his attention. [color=B22222][i]It will draw the real traitor out.[/i][/color] He dared not say it in this room, though.

Then, the message bullied its way through and, amid all of the other generally-grim news, it was a halo: [color=598527]<Ren. Baykara. Confirmed. Killed.>[/color]

For the first time since morning, Dani felt as if they might actually be able to do this. Ren Baykara: dead. He posted his hands on the table, shook his head, and smiled with an unbridled relief. [color=B22222]<Thank. You. Marceline.>[/color] He pinched his ear back. [color=B22222]<Who.>[/color]

[color=598527]<Tku. Mahal. Fiske. Keearah. Raffie.>[/color]

He nodded and thanked her again. Straightening, he raised his voice. [color=B22222]"Attention, everyone!"[/color] A dozen heads turned his way. [color=B22222]"Ren Baykara has been killed."[/color]

Two minutes later, Dani stepped out to have a smoke and a breather. It was headed towards sunset now, overcast and drizzly and moody. The battlefield stunk of ash, gunsmoke, and burnt flesh. Lifting his pipe to his lips with hands he was surprised to find were shaky, he tried not to dwell on it. Then, there was further good news from his little Kerreman angel and he lifted his face up to the heavens and let out a bark of thankful laughter. [color=598527]<Smiler. Is. Back. In. The. Fight.>[/color][/color][/hider]

	[color=757163][i]Having successfully conspired to use enemies of Virang to dispose of Ren, the battle of the Plains of Fortuna seems to be progressing smoothly for Zarina and Raffie, until a terrible foe only Ren could defeat rises from the dead in front of their eyes. Their hasty plan has gone sideways; have they snatched defeat from the jaws of victory?[/i][/color]
[hider=Palapar 5: The Rise of Sorriso][color=757163]Zarina was unflinching. She had imagined a thousand different ways Ren would die. At least once every night, ever since her mother had planted the idea. Most of them were peaceful death, for she bore little ill will in spite of his attitude and reputation. In fact, she had imagined the deed before most of those implicated had truly decided to finish him. It was only on the battlefield, the here and now, that her hatred for this man had spiked comparably or even beyond the man's worst enemies. The moment he drew his blade on his own people, it was decided that he would never accomplish what he was meant to.

Ren had fulfilled his role, and now he was gone. Life continued and so did the battle. She had almost forgotten that after minutes of avoidance from the enemy side's infantry. They were reasonably scared of her. And now there were more reasons to fear her as she took a deep breath. Her lungs filled with the stench of war and her manas gorged themselves in the sweet milk of time itself. 

[color=#E5E4E2]“Well,”[/color] and then a deep exhale. [color=#E5E4E2]“back to it.”[/color]

The Hocho 99 was dragged through the dirt and muck with every step forward she took, closing a small bit of the distance separating her from the man with the confrontational eyes. Tku stared down the dragon, and it stared back. The apathetic mask was back after a brief lapse to express relief. 

[color=#E5E4E2]“Is th-”[/color] 

Zarina's heart beat hard enough to make her immature scales vibrate. The familiar feeling of forgetfulness with the instinct of being prey to something far great hit her. She did not have eyes behind her head nor did she have time to sense after having drawn already. She felt exactly like most felt when she was close. Utterfly mortified.

The battlefield was ten thousand different things happening at once, some consequential, some less so. It was not always easy to tell which was which, but there came, every once in a while, something that made the distinction unavoidable. Devasa, the Behemoth of Garungul, took to the skies with a new rider in her saddle. The gargantuan sleeper dragon cast a shadow so great that it seemed to cover entire battalions at a time, but this paled in comparison to her flames. Common and mage alike, they boiled alive in their armour as she swept past, a pillar of fire racing across the Palaparese back lines, arcing towards their command. 

Kidlat, seeing this, coaxed Bonadeuce into the sky, though the creature's fear of a much larger beast was palpable. [color=8181F7]"We need kill she!"[/color] he shouted, [color=8181F7]"or we lost. Who gonna come wip me?"[/color]

The blast took Zarina from behind just as she was turning, and it melted half of her armour, scalded her scales so that they chipped and embrittled, and hurled her into the ground like a ragdoll. When the dust settled, Sorriso stood before her. His clothes were tattered where she had sliced him in two, but he was whole and, from his throat came an awful maniacal laugh.

[color=yellow]"Guess who's back, dragon cunt?"[/color] He swung his cleaver at her with murderous intent.

Zarina took the blast head-on, which was better than back-on. Or whatever a back hit would be called. Burnt and rattled, the dragon wielded her sword with both shaking hands. The monster was coming, a real monster, and they no longer had a Ren to fall back to. This was a nightmare. No good deed goes unpunished, as they say.

[color=#E5E4E2]“The floor looked good on you.”[/color] she retorted, indulging in the banter so many others seemed to enjoy during a fight. [color=#E5E4E2]“Next time I'll make sure you stay down.”[/color] she promised the obese freak before charging in, this time making full use of her temporal magic to leverage any sort of advantage, and aiming to chop off his head.

[color=red][i]There's no way...[/i][/color] Raffie's gaze snapped to Zarina and the maniac. Her hand trembled. Had she just doomed... she couldn't waste time thinking about it—who or what was at stake or if it was planned by the rebels or not. She had no time to risk on her unreliable grasp of commands. Zarina needed a boost, and yesterday. [color=red]"Blessing of Strength,"[/color] she whispered, raising her wand immediately.

A lone man draped in dark clothing and carrying a man sized item upon his back walked through a battlefield of countless people. Many of them moving and strafing out of the way of him. Not that they made way for him, it was more a subconscious movement that made them shift and move. Similar to if dodging a small hole they could trip on out of instinct and forgetting about it a moment later.

The man walked and sighed to himself as he began to watch the giants face off once more. The man shifted his shoulders as he sat back, setting down the giant wrapped cylandier that was strapped to his back. He didn't think he would pull this out, yet it proved that she had a terrible amount of power.

The man shifted the object off of himself, turning and ripping the cloth off, revealing a strange cannon. One that was around as big as a field cannon, yet was built strangely. It had no carriage mountings and seemed to be carved and shaped with grooves and a wooden mounting. Near the front was a metal post near the front of the barrel. The man lugged it onto his shoulder as he set the wooden mounting onto his shoulder, allowing the cannon to fit nicely upon himself as he took hold of the metal post that allowed him to stabilize the cannon and aim it more easily. It was a weapon made for a man, yet one that nor mortal one could wield.

The man began to shift back into a kneeling position. Taking his other hand and reaching beside himself, lifting up a mask as he performed magic to place it upon himself. His clothing began to shift and change. Hardening as it seemed that the once flowing clothing wrapped and bulged into armor. The man took a moment and lifted the cannon fully up. Taking aim upon the two combatants, his eyes scanned the area.

It was not time to attack yet, the man was biding his time. He pulled upon the energy gravity was putting upon the cannon on his shoulder and used it to enhance the Smiler's swing. Enhancing his muscles with chemical magic while staying hidden with his own.

The blade swept towards the barbarian's head and it looked as if Zarina would catch him cold. He did not so much as move. He did not try to block the strike. He did not try to parry it. 

The muscles in the back of his neck and shoulders bulged and, faster than one could blink, the giant stepped forward, twisting at the last second to...

It all happened too fast. Had he [i]bitten[/i] the sword? The next thing that anybody knew, it was wrenched from Zarina's hands and twirling end over end through the air. It landed some ways away, embedded in the ground. One could not see Sorriso's mouth clearly, but one could hear a slurping lick from behind the mask. The corners of its mouth spidered outwards with cracks as the monstrous man took a couple of steps. He leaned over and spat, and there was a hint of blood in it. [color=yellow]"Hmph,"[/color] he snorted. [color=yellow]"Tastes like inexperience and desperation."[/color]

He ran the back of his sleeve over his mask's great toothy rictus grin. [color=yellow]"Sure you were the one who beat up Triste?"[/color]

He could sense Volto Blu not far away. That guy was an ideologue and a radical, but he knew his weapons and he liked to use them. Maybe they could have a bit of fun...

Did he just grab the sword with his mouth?!

Zarina couldn't believe it. Truly a complete blunder to have sacrificed Ren so early. They could have just kept it in-house, get enough of her associates to do the deed. But here she was, with only Raffaella feeding her just enough to keep up with the monster's most basic of movements. 

The momentum she needed for the swing remained on her form, yanking her off the grip she had on the buster sword and forcing the dragon to recover a good twenty meters away or so. 

[color=#E5E4E2]“I'm surprised they didn't send that creep.”[/color] uttered the panting wildblood, the intensity of the situation getting to her quickly.

The girl with the charred clothing and half her chest exposed first attempted to tug at her sword, but the energy needed when the smiler could attack at any moment was far too risky. She locked her eyes on his knee and, the moment she noticed movement, caused an air bubble to burst the entire bone structure and offer a potential opening.

Fiske's mind began to race, why would Nero give him such a task? Why did he have him experience and live among both sides, to humanize the inevitable enemy that had to be slaughtered like cattle. They were people too, misguided people but people nonetheless! Ertan was a horrid man in the eyes of Palaparese, but he was a charming man with a good heart. His stories were always a highlight within the palace. 

[color=FF00FF][i]Wait. . . [/i][/color] 

The chaos within the quixotic teen stopped. In it's place was one singular answer to his many questions.

[color=FF00FF][i]He knew.[/i][/color]

His blood boiled, his hands shook.

[color=FF00FF][i]HE KNEW THIS WOULD HAPPEN!!![/i][/color]

This was not an emotion similar to the one he felt against the Virangish Hugonist. No, that was righteous anger. This, this was worse. 

[color=FF00FF][i]Were all of them in the know?[/i][/color] His eyes travelled to the yellow masked demon who was toying with the draconic woman whom he knew hated him. [color=FF00FF][i]He would know! He would, he would have![/i][/color] The betrayed traitor rushed towards the scene with murderous intent. Only being concealed by shoddily maintained disguise. His knives would taste this boar's blood when this was done.

Fiske did not wish to kill this man out of his obligation or mission, nor to satiate his own moral compass. 

This time, his intent was born from hate.

It was within a moment, Sorriso was assaulted from multiple angles. From the front was Zarina who seemed to have now aimed with a plan, while from an off angle came a feral dog. One bearing fangs that seem all too ready to kill.

Black King's eyes flicked between the two for but a moment, before a chemical reaction that was building exploded off like a thunder crack. Black King focused all the energy he was pulling from the cannon and around the battlefield into firing off the beast of a weapon.

Countless magics folded in on the weapon, magics winding and unwinding within the cannon as a roar of thunder made Black King known in that moment. A large conical projectile willed itself forward with deadly intent, aiming to smash itself into Zarina.

The moment the cannon fired, Black King flickered into existence for a moment before he began to reenact his magics to hide himself once more. Preparing to leave where he had just fired before magics were to bombard him.

Sorriso grunted for a moment, but such was the thickness of his bones and his ability to heal that he wobbled for a mere second and lurched forward, and then rapidly pushed off to the side. 

Zarina, trying to take advantage of the brief opening, found herself facing another Volto: Soldato instead, though he was nigh impossible to sense. His projectile only gave itself away at the last second possible, and her incomplete defense proved too little, too late. Blasted backwards, the Virangishwoman was sent tumbling away.

Meanwhile, another rushed in furiously to take advantage of the opening she had created. Sorriso snarled and swiped at his sore knee and, suddenly, the sky erupted with a thousand tiny explosions and their vicious shockwaves all around him: faceless thunder. The assassin who may or may not have been Fiske found himself pummeled and tripped up by them as he came into range.

Volto Giallo towered before him, raising his mighty butcher's blade high over his head, and brought it down towards his opponent. [color=yellow]"Why do I smell... [i]rat[/i]!?[/color] he guffawed.

Zarina's focus was entirely on Sorisso, or rather his leg. She wanted to pop that knee-cap like it was a pimple and surely she would have had some result had there not been an unseen interloper taking a gargantuan shot at her. Without her sword and out in the open, she had precious little time to react to this particularly well-aimed shot.

BOOM!

The dragon didn't just get pushed back, she barreled. Many of her exposed flesh was burnt and healed at an agonizingly slow rate. Even Raffaella's intervention did little to stifle the constant beating she was taking. Panting and growing frustrated, Zarina shouted.

[color=#E5E4E2]“Nilay, find him!”[/color]

She ordered, drawing upon the spatial threads she could perceive. Her huntress, Nilay the assassin, used the same technique as the mage hunters and was no less capable in finding them too. But not a trace could be found. None until distortions in the very fabric of space, a thing only Zarina could do among the two, could assess fast enough. Compress Space was her kneejerk reaction to the first sign of such an anomaly and yet nothing. Her scaly palm and sharpened claws grasped nothing but air.

Confusion hit the rat as the explosions tripped him up. What happened in the span of seconds? Zarina was out of his rather blurred vision and Volto Giallo, most commonly known as the 'muncher' loomed over him. The man had suffered multiple killing blows and yet he stands, with only his clothing taking the damage. 

The boy had gained great boons from his reincarnation, yet one thing that became more apparent by the day was his reaction time. His senses were not like they used to before, his mind could no longer visualize the near-future. It all made him just a tiny bit more sluggish than before his death.

It became most noticeable to him when that tool of slaughter was brought down upon him. If it was the Fiske from months passed, he could dodge it, perhaps even take advantage of the opening, but the current Fiske could not. 

With barely any time to think, he telekinetically flung himself to the side to at least avoid the swing. Eyes widened as the closeness of the edge to his face would make any who did not have a death wish flinch. 

[color=FF00FF][i]Immortal freak! . . . Just die already![/i][/color]

He hyperventilated, the stimuli from his current, most-pressing desire mixed with outwardly influences sent him into a frenzy.

[color=FF00FF]"Because you smell your own upper lip, you fat deadhead!"[/color] 

The undying one against the one risen from death.

While Fiske taunted, Sorriso thrust a boot at him and clipped him on the shoulder. The youth reeled backwards, stumbling, but he was in enough of a rage that he rebounded quickly. [color=yellow]"Next time, I kick you in the mouth."[/color] Further explosions issued around him, making a direct approach next to impossible. 

The giant balled up his fists, then, and there was a [i]titanic[/i] surge of energy. Suddenly, from the two of them, grew long hazy blades of golden-green light, radiating intense waves of heat into the air around them. The Volto darted forward, straight for Fiske or, at least, he [i]appeared[/i] to.

The giant was becoming an ever-evolving monster in his eyes. Every time he thought that he knew all he was, that fat fuck seemed to trump ever single attempt to assess him.

[color=FF00FF]"No next time."[/color] He had underestimated the magic knowledge this man had. Who could have known that an Eskandishman had the brains to use atomic magic! 

If he were to beat this demon, he would have to use one of his trump cards himself. Something only a couple other people know. He ran towards the Volto, ready to phase out of reality to stab him in the back of the neck, perhaps he could kill him when he's down.

Sorriso seemed distracted by the sudden swoop of a dragon overhead and, paired with Fiske's sudden disappearance, he could be seen sweeping frantically about, having lost track of his target. 

Emerging from greyspace right on top of one's victim was as much art as science, and inexact in either case. Yet, Fiske managed it with near-perfection, materializing above and behind the behemoth and shoving his knife deep into the back of the man's neck. 

Sorriso collapsed with a garbled cry, Fiske landing right on top of him, but that strike... it hadn't felt quite right. That had not been human flesh and, as they landed, it was clear to the young illusionist that he, in fact, had been fooled. He had less than a second to react as a gargantuan pillar of fire descended on him from above, vaporizing grass, mud, and debris instantly and turning the ground to glass. 

[color=yellow]"Ha haaaa!"[/color] Sorriso crowed, his true form appearing some ways away even before the smoke and steam cleared, [color=yellow]"You're a speedy lil' rodent, but not very smart."[/color] He lurched forward a step, apparently an illusionist as well.

[color=#E5E4E2]“Still can't see him?!”[/color] shouted Zarina, still grasping at nothing as if the mere fact that she had missed was an impossibility. How she wished she had his neck turn apart in her hand right now. War was getting to her, lives became inconveniences rather than things to preserve. 

[color=#342869]“Negatory, I don't even see a [i]trace[/i] of him.”[/color] Nilay stayed close to her associate, but not too close. These rockets were not so easily shrugged off by those without scales.

Still burnt and bruised, the dragon went mobile instead, leaving the assassin to stick to the shadows for safety rather than Zarina. [color=#E5E4E2]“Let's make his job harder, then.”[/color] she did not just fly but teleported in rapid intervals for the sake of unpredictability while Nilay faded into the fog of war. So far, nothing from the hidden bombardier. 

Somehow, whether it was precognition or immense luck, a rocket had been fired again, this time predicting where she was going to land. It was just as surprising as the first time when she wasn't even aware of an incoming bomb. Just as it was about to hit her, space collapsed itself between herself and an unknown point behind the rocket, causing the projectile to crush into itself and explode prematurely and further away than it would have been. A close call, and a likely hit had she not kept her finger on the space-trigger.

Again, another miss when she almost instantly retaliated where the rocket would have come from. And then, she found it: A depression in the threads of space and time. An anomaly that had slipped and was far too conspicuous to ignore. Space compressed itself once more, although this time she did not end up empty-handed - literally. 

She did not hold his throat, however, but his weapon instead. By merely pressing her fingers on the cannon, she bent the entire foundation and essentially broke the contraption. It wasn't just brute force, but the very space around the object forced it to be as pliable as a semi-liquid. 

The Black King was within arm's reach. Zarina stared him down. [color=#E5E4E2]“No more running.”[/color] she decided with space beginning to compress around the man, starting with his mask.

[hr]
[color=FF00FF][i]It was a dud?! This bastard can-[/i][/color] Fiske could not even finish his own thoughts as the pillar of fire engulfed the young rodent, his silhouette clear as day to the Volto. Screams echoed from it. His own anger and hubris led to his death.

One thing that would seem strange for the seasoned assassin is that the energy signature from the dying boy did not dissipate, it swelled. Bigger and bigger, barely recognizable from before. 

[color=FF00FF]"Aaaaargh-Hahahaha!"[/color] 

The screams of the boy were turning to maniacal laughter. Did he go insane? Some at the last breath succumb to madness. But he could feel from his gut that this was different. 

Yet soon after, it was gone. Any semblance from the boy, taken by the flames.

[color=FF00FF]"Hehehe. . You're not the only one that's hard to kill, Lardass."[/color] A demonic presence presented itself behind the Eskandishman, his chuckling left any chance of a sneak attack with the trash. 

[color=FF00FF]"I do so enjoy a good roasted pig."[/color]
The creature's massive, grinning maw opened up and through it came a breath of immense flame. It was time for payback.

The cackling sinner had descended.

Volto Giallo did not even try to avoid the attack, and he found himself wreathed in flames. They whirled around him, being sucked up in a vortex, and the grinning yellow mask's mouth opened freakishly wide. 
He turned and leapt back, his head looking like the flame of a candle before it went out. Smoke rolled off of him and, from behind his blackened mask, one could hear a slurping, crackling sound. 

The [i]thing[/i] that Fiske had turned into hadn't noticed amid all of the excitement at being let loose and the sheer [i]fun[/i] of blasting something at point blank range with the flames of Ipté's Hell. Two perfect holes in... [i]her!?[/i] abdomen from the Volto's light-blades. 

They healed almost immediately, and the succubus arched an eyebrow. [color=FF00FF]"If you wanted to impale me that badly..."[/color] She trailed off into a giggling maniacal laugh, for Fiske was now a demon of Ipté and she was... at once beautiful and terrifying. She cracked a long black thorny whip and strode forward. The huge brutish Volto took a moment to adjust his pants. [color=yellow]"Hah!"[/color] he coughed, [color=yellow]"I [i]knew[/i] it!"[/color] Yet, if he was still outwardly joking and laughing, his energy had shifted. He was drawing in earnest now, serious about the fight.

[hr]
[color=gold]"Who... says... I'm... running?"[/color] Black King grated, as the mask began to crack, and a warning sensation raced up behind Zarina's ears. Her muscles seized and her body locked up and it was [i]painful[/i]. There was an extended pause. 

[color=598527]<You. Will. Regret. Killing. Him.>[/color] came an urgent pinch message. [color=598527]<Trust. Me. Suunei. Please.>[/color] It was Marceline and she had caught Zarina cold. She still held her sister in a death-grip. 

Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, the Blue Volto quickly broke free and began to fade from perception.

Sweat poured down Raffie's forehead, stinging her eyes. She was maintaining stealth with arcane light-bending and brain chemical interference on any who came too close. To exercise a third school under these conditions took almost every ounce of the girl's concentration and ability, and tracking Zarina's moves took what little remained. Her attempts to directly intervene to free Zarina were sophomoric at best—it was just enough to stop the tethered's bloodwarping from snapping her friend's bones.

A semi-immobilized Zarina clenched her jaw. She did not respond with any sort of pinch or easily translated method for a tethered, but instead ranted outright. [color=#E5E4E2]“Regret?!”[/color] she growled. [color=#E5E4E2]“The guy-”[/color] said man had since vanished and her body was once again her's. [color=#E5E4E2]“saw my face and still tried to KILL me. But I need to consider HIM as he hides behind a mask?!”[/color] she ripped her blade out of the ground and instantaneously appeared next to her tiny ally.

[color=#E5E4E2]“How are you holding up?”[/color] she inquired, settling for a much needed, express-breather with Nilay joining them soon after. [color=#E5E4E2]“Sorry about-”[/color] she up-nodded toward the shrugging assassin. [color=#E5E4E2]“I still needed him for that fat fuck. And we still screwed that up.”[/color]

Raffie jolted and nearly lost her composure with a high-pitched yelp. Sweaty and breathless, she supposed there was no way she looked like she was holding up well. She cursed her tiny body. [color=red]"Just—tell me next time that she's with you,"[/color] she panted. Still, there was relief to know that Zarina saw her as an ally, even now. [color=red]"I got that part, but what do we do if he's just gonna get back up every time?"[/color]

[color=#E5E4E2]“I was hoping you wouldn't be here.”[/color] Zarina confessed, kneeled down slightly as she adjusted her now restores clothes, courtesy of Nilay. [color=#E5E4E2]“But I'm relieved you are. Always saving my ass.”[/color] she reached out for her friend's hand for a brief squeeze. 

An important discussion was engaged and it prompted the dragon to look up. Sorisso was fighting ... What was this? Fiske?! [color=#E5E4E2]“He's not surpposed to-”[/color] she shook her head. [color=#E5E4E2]“I'm jumping back in, but I had thought about it. I did that with one of the dragons - we just send the fatass on vacation.”[/color] pause, maybe for some dramatic effect. [color=#E5E4E2]“To the other side of the world for a mindfuck.”[/color] she looked up again, but more so toward the horizon. [color=#E5E4E2]“We just need him to stay still for a few seconds. In not too long, we might have an easier time, too.”[/color]

[color=red]"I'm not [i]supposed[/i] to be here,"[/color] Raffie whispered conspiratorially, returning the hand squeeze. She didn't try very hard to hide it from Nilay. If Zarina trusted her, she would too. [color=red]"Please wait! You're still badly hurt. I can make this work!"[/color] she pleaded, trying to convince herself as much as Zarina.

Zarina sighed, but without much hesitation, nodded. [color=#E5E4E2]“You're the reason I'm not dead.”[/color] she held her kneeling position and let Raffie do her work. Though, in the midst of it, the dragon leaned in to whisper something whilst Nilay seemed unbothered by the secrecies - perhaps she was in on it too.

Black King was not, in fact, the strongest of mages. He was a magusjaeger, through and through, with stealth and mechanical firepower his main stocks in trade. The sun lay on the horizon and three moons were visible in the sky and his gambit to buy Sorriso time to deal with the nuisance that was Fiske had been about to pay off until the illusionist had revealed his - [i]her!?[/i] trump card. Perhaps there was some irony to it all. He hadn't imagined the cowardly trickster would actually stand and fight but, every once in a while, one was surprised. 

Volto Blu could stay and help fight, but his senior counterpart was both clearly outgunned and capable of taking supreme amounts of punishment with little consequence. A bigger gun was needed to even the playing field, and he recognized that it would fall to him to retrieve that gun. Oh how he so [i]loved[/i] weapons!

First, however, there was an opportunity. As he disappeared, he pulled, from his satchel, a rolling bomb, and then a second and a third. Pulling on his strange magics to cover his deeds, he set these to light and set them rolling towards the Virangishwomen, throwing in enough kinetic play and arc that they couldn't be traced back to him.... not that he intended to stick around.

He knew who was needed here and, based on the cry of a distant dragon over by Tiger Hill, he was fairly certain that he knew where to find him.

Raffie listened to Zarina, smiled and nodded. [color=red]"MEND,"[/color] She commanded again, and Zarina was as good as new. [color=red]"I must be your good luck charm, then. Word on the street is that I'm a saint,"[/color] she joked, before whipping around to face another attack that was coming their way. If King thought Zarina was invulnerable, Raffie certainly was not. She reached out a hand and rocketed one explosive barrel away with a combination of magnetic and kinetic energy, and Zarina warped away another into a group of incoming rebels who, regardless of if they saw Raffie's back or not, would pay the price on account of Zarina watching it.

The third barrel, however, was only just stopped before it could explode, raining fiery shrapnel upon the Virangishwomen. Raffie turned away and ducked down, but not before taking a significant hit, one piece of debris cracking a rib while others left a burn on her left cheek and lacerations on her shoulder. She fell with a scream and winced in pain, but did not languish on the ground or cry. She stood up—painfully, but she was not a stranger to pain. She stood defiant. [color=red]"I'm not leaving, Zazzy,"[/color] she managed. [color=red]"I'll be here when you win."[/color]

Zarina took yet another beating, this time explosive barrels. In the end, the pain was marginal and her concern was toward Raffaella. There was an instinct to protest and forcibly warp her friend somewhere safe. But, all things considered, the pink menace had been doing an overall better job than the dragon at surviving. With Marceline's message well received, she decided on what to do.

[color=#E5E4E2]“Get yourself patched up first, that's an order.”[/color] the wildblood looked at the mess that was the battle between the succubus-Fiske and Sorriso. The latter was truly invincible. [color=#E5E4E2]“We're executing the plan now. Our friend will help too. Down Dami's latrine is he going.”[/color] she stood and drew her sword. That thing was as tall as its already quite tall wielder. Absurd, really. 

The Al-Nader had made a second decision. She hadn't tugged on the essence of time since her last serious training session with Jocasta. It was a sacred thing and to tarnish it with mortal hands was a sensitive matter. But life and its values were rife with conditions, and this affront to life itself had earned this brief transgression. Reject Time, everything slowed around her. Everything, including the very air.

[color=598527]<For. What. It's. Worth. Zazz. I. Told. Him. Too.>[/color] The message reached Zarina from Marceline. [color=598527]<He's. Just. A. Dick. Or. He. Thinks. You're. Invincible.>[/color] 

Meanwhile, one who had seemed invincible - Sorriso - was proving anything but under a sustained onslaught from Reshanas, Mistress of Whip and Thorn. As quick as the Volto was, the tier five demon seemed, always a step ahead of him. When she ate a brutal elbow to the face, it came back bloody and poisoned and Sorriso took just as long to heal as [i]she[/i] did. 

An atomic slash took one of her horns. A cataclysm burnt him to a crisp. He grabbed her by the ankles and pummeled her into the ground. She kicked up and impaled him through the chin with a stiletto heel. 

He missed at least twice cleanly, and her whip tore a chunk from his back. [color=C71585]"Does it sting, little guy?"[/color] she taunted, even as he healed and hit her with a Mark of the Bull. 

The succubus somersaulted out of the way: quick and limber and seemingly made of rubber. [color=C71585]"Missed me!"[/color] she snickered, [color=C71585]"But you're not the type to hit his mark often, [i]are[/i] you!?"[/color] She broke out in laughter until a blizzard of razor sharp ice left her impaled in three places.

The chunks melted and she faded from view, and Sorriso started faceless thunder going. [color=yellow]"Come on out, whore, and I'll show you-"[/color]

She appeared, kneeling before him, one of her horns right through his midsection. With a wicked twist, she wrenched her head to the side and tore clean through his flank. [color=C71585]"Show, don't tell,"[/color] she admonished. [color=C71585]"Men who brag are usually compensating."[/color] Her grin was wide and maniacal as blood dripped from her horns. 

Sorriso stumbled to the side and collapsed, wheezing and bleeding and she took a moment to examine her nails. How nice and sharp they were. Finished with the task, she strutted forward, ready to reach down and stick them into his eye sockets or something like that. She came to a stop, wagging a finger, and reached forward to do the deed. 

A massive hand shot up and grabbed her by the wrist. It yanked her in and the grinning yellow mask's mouth yawned open. Its sharp metal teeth plowed into her face and ripped off her nose, gouged her eyes from their sockets, and tore her lips free. He smashed forward and sent the bloodied demon reeling. She collapsed in a shrieking heap and he exploded towards  her crumpled form, his midsection still healing, his intestines visible, his cleaver raised high. [color=yellow]"I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU, CUNT!!! I'LL RIP YOUR LIMBS OFF AND SKIN YOU AND WEAR YOU LIKE AN ESHIDAMNED COAT!"[/color]

It was a world of pain, even for a demon of such a caliber. She would heal, of course, but it was a lesson in overconfidence in the midst of a battle. It was also a reminder that another solution would be needed, for this man, it seemed, simply could not be killed...

In an instant, Zarina was behind the masked horror, sword readied and descending down into a simple yet effective chop. He couldn't move when temporarily 'dead', she remembered, and so pure, unadulterated Eshiran-Zept energy was warranted.

Then, Sorriso's eyes snapped right to Zarina as she brought her blade down to strike. They moved and so did he and... there was blood and the feel of her sword striking, but it did not bite deeply. He grinned as if in slow-motion and began drawing a truly [i]absurd[/i] amount of energy.

Raffie blinked, and Zarina was gone before she could argue, not that she planned to. [color=red]"Did she forget you could heal too?"[/color] she asked Nilay, then shrugged. [color=red]"I need to slow down the big guy."[/color] She didn't give Nilay an order, but she didn't need to. Instead, she reached out and commanded: [color=red]"REVOKE."[/color]

Hubris. Without even realizing it, Fiske had become a image mirroring the Grand Demon of Cruelty herself. A feeling like he was not really himself, or rather herself. A sensation that he had never truly felt, or could even comprehend right now. He was used to getting taken away with playing his role perfectly, but this, this was different. 

The healing demoness' hand hovered over her mauled face. The fact that she was still standing would send most rank-and-file warriors fleeing. The ripped lips gave way to an even more toothy. . . grin? Reshanas had to make it quick now as something began to pull, so little time to enjoy. The body had to rely on the strength if they could be let out again next time.

They dared to ruin the face of one of Ipte's demons. 

Defacing art was an offense most vile.
And the masked immortal will regret it.

Sorriso staggered back, twin nuclear sabres igniting in each hand. With a roar, blood spurting from his chest wound, he crouched low and stepped rapidly in, leaping and spinning. To the others, it was unfathomably quick. To Zarina, it was slow and telegraphed. 

And, yet, there was something deep and instinctual within the demon that had taken over Fiske's body and made it her own. [i][b]REVOKE[/b][/i]: She well recognized what that was and who it had targeted. Holy magic in the hands of a sinner! This was wonderful. 

What was even better was that Sorriso, even moving like a blur as he was, was left wide open to being drawn from...

Both Sorriso and Zarina could easily dodge each others' attacks, with the latter landing more hits but were evidently of little consequence. She wasn't getting closer to killing him in spite of her advantage and the demon-Fiske could barely keep up at times. 

But then it happened again - the same, unusual state Ren was in. One the dragon hadn't noticed initially, but her current state of flux in regards to the flow of time allowed her more time to see what would normally stay hidden. He was vulnerable and everyone smelled blood.

It was time for Zarina to fulfill her role. First, she pictured the location - ugly, nightmarish and rancid. Very vivid overall, and she remembered that wicked, thin demon-thing they had to dispatch. Then there was the location in regards to the world - coordinates, but based mostly off memory and instinct. An Zenui was a unique place among the desert, and the Omenaxan stood distinct among even the Cazenax's odd architecture. And finally, she had to open the gate. A nice, Sorriso-shaped gate revealing the very guts of the demon-turned-prison for the worst of the worst. The very fact that a portal opened unleashed a wave of malthink and horror onto all those nearby. The thing was that potent.

[color=#E5E4E2]“NOW OR NEVER!”[/color] Zarina shouted, barely capable of holding the portal before she would begin to feel side effects of the Omenaxan's influence.

Today has been such a tremendous joy. It is not every day that one can let loose within the world of the living. Whilst letting loose was one of the main dishes she had come to taste. The wildblood fighting with humans, not hiding their beastly for. A sinner who was able to wield the dirty Quentic's 'special tongue' and of course the joy of witnessing the Giant's demeanour change so deliciously. All of these side dishes made the main course all the more scrumptious. 

The man of great mass was moving incredibly fast, but she could feel the manas. They were wide open for her to draw from, so joyfully vulnerable. After sporting a smirk from her newly healed lips, she drew and drew from the fat man. Taking as much from him as she could. [color=C71585]"I had such a wonderful time today, so I'm taking a little souvenir."[/color]

It was as easy as unspooling yarn. Sorriso was, perhaps, so immune to pain - so utterly unbothered by it - that he didn't seem to notice until his fled began to split open. His eyes widened and he roared and reached out to chop Zarina's head clean from her shoulders, but then his hand began to unspool a well, and it was a grisly sight. His intestines began to slosh about and slide free, and then more! He let out a choked noise and then, just as he was about to somehow reach her with his remaining hand, some irresistible kinetic force slammed into him with all of its might. Nobody could quite say who was behind it. Was it Zarina? Demonified Fiske? Raffie, by some means?

The portal yawned open, cruel and sinister and leaking unholy energy that Reshanas must've lapped up eagerly. He teetered on the edge, blasting fire on his mouth to scald the demon drawing from him and sent Rafaella ducking for cover, but it only took a little poke: just a tiny bit more from somebody, somewhere. Perhaps it was one of the Virangish tethered, finally making good. 

Sorriso tumbled into the Omenaxan and the path there abruptly and firmly shut behind him. All that was left was some of his blood, burnt and dried on the ground, and a battlefield that had begun to shift decisively Palapar's way. With the Volto gone from it, however, and Reshanas having restored some of her timer on the mortal coil through the act of blood drawing, this trio... how they could make the Plains of Fortuna their oyster!

They had done it, the monster was gone. Surely, at some point, he'd return, but only one was there ever a successful SOLO breakout of the Omenaxan. She liked those odds. And with Sorisso gone, the rebels' had lost their ace in the hole - a monster that was definitely superior to the Volto she had fought over a month ago. Anything else they'd face would fall to their combined strengths.

[color=#E5E4E2]“Big cheese down.”[/color] she spoke to the demon with an air of camaraderie, assuming - potentially wrongly - to be Fiske. [color=#E5E4E2]“If the dragon's about to fall, we step in. Otherwise ...”[/color] the horizon was rife with skirmishes and flames. A lot to clear, but with masked menace gone, Zarina had a good feeling. [color=#E5E4E2]“We restore some order.”[/color] 

There was something else to drink in the horizon. Ipte's moon, a blood red ruler of the nightly heaven, stood out more than the other three that had emerged on this historical evening. Zarina's heart began to race in spite of the serenity and relief she was feeling. She knew what was coming and for once fully embraced it.[/color][/hider]