Dark Jack

The Prophecy

Well, even those would still be affected by an angel of fear to some extent and trapped in their spell, though what they would experience there would probably be radically different from the experience of a "normal" person. Since the magic functions primarily by criteria of "worst", it would probably default to "least preferred event" if "worst fear" isn't available.

A better way to depict the planes, eh... I don't know, there could probably be made an effort to make it more artistic somehow (or at least better-looking than the MSPaint-made basic image it is now), but I'm not entirely sure how. I'll give it some thought and get back to you if I think of something.

I also wonder if I should try to crank out a post in reaction to what Aemoten said... nah, better to let Nessa go first. No point in me posting if it turns out that Aemoten was killed before getting to the point where he talked to the others.

The Prophecy

This actually made me remember that I had some new entries for the Deo'iel Guide to Survival (and that the entry on simulacra hasn't been added to it yet). Here are a few new immortals:

Shaltai

Shaltai (Singular: shalto)
Occurrence: Appears in Reniam only when called here by a summoner, but are known to be extraordinarily difficult to maintain control of for extended periods of time, especially if they are made or allowed to use their special abilities. Even as such they are a rare sight, however, since their relatively low prowess and usefulness compared to the cost of summoning them, as well as the difficulty of controlling them, makes them inferior subjects for summoners to rely on. In the Lower Plane, spiritualists and scholars have speculated that shaltai are the result of mortals that have been consumed by destructive mental illness and driven to madness. Those who commit evil without understanding their own deeds or are held responsible for actions of other personalities within themselves are thought to become shaltai.
Appearance: The briefest and most common description reported of shaltai name their physical forms that of “four-legged spiders”, although more in-depth examinations of these demons have shown a number of discrepancies between these and actual spiders. While they do share some semblance in the shape of their body and limbs, including a bulky abdominal hind-body consistent with orb-weavers and downward-facing fangs similar to those of certain species of spider, that is where the similarities end. Shaltai have only two eyes with the appearance of black orbs, and are known to have a “crown” of horn-like protrusions surrounding the thorax, with a distribution of half curving toward the head and half toward the abdomen of the creature. The exoskeleton and horns of shaltai are both black with red streaks, with the horns specifically have red tips. Behind their fangs shaltai have jaws more consistent with those of carnivorous reptiles than of spiders, providing it a powerful bite and an abundance of sharp teeth. Their abdominal segment is covered in particularly tough carapace and has been observed to be capable of receiving impacts that could shatter rock and metal alike without cracking, making them virtually impenetrable. Lastly, shaltai appear to lack a spinneret but instead have something akin to an extendable ovipositor where the spinneret would have been, surrounded by numerous smaller, tougher extremities the sole purpose of which appears to be to protect the ovipositor.
The size of shaltai is incredibly inconsistent, with reported sizes ranging from shaltai barely any larger than grains of sand to specimens several dozen feet long and weighing over three thousand pounds. They appear incapable of speech in any language as they simply lack functional vocal organs, but are capable of hissing, clicking and, rarely, emitting a “nasty” grinding noise described as “the sound of bones slowly being crushed by stone”.
Danger: Shaltai are often considered the least useful possible being to summon, and can mostly be considered to be of negligible danger while under the control of a summoner as their heavy bodies, relatively weak limbs and lack of magical ability make them easy to outrun and outmaneuver. However, one should be mindful that being caught by a sizable shalto is almost certain to result in certain death, as they are not only typically much stronger than average humanoids and have a bite that can easily tear off limbs, but can additionally inject venom through their fangs that is usually lethal, and even in fortunate cases where the victim survives results in necrosis surrounding the bite.
That is not to say that the presence of shaltai should be taken lightly, however, and rather than prioritizing the defeat of the summoner, every effort possible should be made to dispatch these demons before dealing with the one controlling them. The true danger of shaltai is their special abilties, all of which can be summarized as a way for them to approximate the ability of deity-level immortals to split themselves into multiple entities. A shalto can use its ovipositor to literally separate part of its own mass, mind and power into an additional shalto, weakening the body of the original but allowing it to exist in two places at once... and, worryingly, this process appears to be almost infinitely repeatable, allowing a single large, powerful shalto to split into thousands of weaker shaltai, each one with a mind of its own but sharing information and a common will with the collective, and all of which retain the venom of the original, albeit in smaller quantities. Allowing a shalto to split furthermore makes it incredibly difficult to defeat, since killing any individual shalto-incarnation will result in the dispersal typical for immortals, only for the dispersed energy to be reabsorbed by the remaining incarnations of the same shalto, allowing them to recombine and grow in strength and size. The only way to defeat a shalto besides having a summoner banish it is to kill every single one of its incarnations, leaving its soul nowhere to retreat to besides the Lower Plane.
It is fortunate that shaltai splitting into multiple incarnations also multiplies the effort required to control them or shaltai might have been a much more common sight in Reniam than they currently are, as a single shalto can potentially become immensely dangerous if allowed to split itself enough times.
Conclusion: All demons are exceedingly dangerous and must be slain on sight, which is a sentiment that is even more critical and urgent with shaltai than with most others of their kind. Every possible effort should be made to avoid killing a shalto’s summoner or causing the summoner to lose control of a shalto and, regardless of whether one has obtained freedom or remains controlled, should be defeated as soon as possible. Killing a shalto is best done by targeting their head, though this obviously also puts one at considerable risk as this is also where shaltai’s offensive capabilities are the greatest. Alternatively one can attempt to somehow turn a shalto over, as not only are they fairly harmless if laid on their back, but the carapace on the underside of their abdomens is also much softer than that on the top and sides, allowing one to inflict mortal wounds without getting in range of their fangs. In an emergency where no immediate opportunity to kill a shalto presents itself, it is worth noting that a shalto cannot split itself if its ovipositor is destroyed and that the organ, aside from the leg-like limbs protecting it, is quite fragile. A destroyed ovipositor will regenerate in a matter of seconds, however, making targeting it nothing more than a means to delay the shaltai splitting.

Angels of Penance

Angels of Penance:
Occurrence: Rarely venture to Reniam for other reasons than having been summoned, or as a messenger of a god. Spiritualists and scholars have speculated that angels of penance are the result of mortals who committed evil in the name of good, hunting down those in violation of their ethical standards and subjected them to cruel and brutal punishment, yet still managed to grow their Seeds of Good more than that of Evil, either due to their own conviction or the sharing of this conviction across a sect or religion that approved of it.
Appearance: Angels of penance assume the appearance of completely black, featureless doll-like entities, creatures that draw a somewhat humanoid contour but with unusually long legs, arms and fingers, with their only distinctive feature being a pair of glowing white, lidless eyes in their otherwise empty faces. They generally have narrow, emaciated-looking frames, and have been observed to be between 6’ 2” and 7’ 10” tall. The manner they move is known to be odd and “puppet-like”, their bodies often contorting in impossible ways or bending at angles that should have caused them to lose balance without doing so. They are completely mute and silent with even their footfalls seeming lighter and more muffled than they should be.
Danger: Unpredictable at best and downright hostile at worst, angels of penance are dangerous no matter whether they are controlled by a summoner or if they have regained their freedom, as they appear to all harbor a deep-seated desire to harm and punish all mortals for their sins, no matter how small or perception-based those sins might be. They are also incredibly dangerous opponents due to their quick, agile and freakishly nerveless movements, and are known to be able to leap several dozen feet with ease, move swiftly on vertical surfaces and ceilings and to have very limited sense of self-preservation, sometimes even acting as though they revel in any injuries inflicted upon them. Their physical abilities notwithstanding, however, they also possess two primary supernatural powers that make them deserving of the fear they tend to inspire. The first ability is that to render themselves briefly incorporeal, at once turning their forms partially translucent and allowing them to pass through physical obstacles unhindered; the second is the ability for their hands to penetrate practically anything, piercing through metal, flesh and bone effortlessly and – inexplicably – soundlessly.
Conclusion: Unlike most other angels there is usually little advantage in aiming to end the summoner of an angel of penance as the angel is not only likely to remain hostile once it regains its freedom, but furthermore also liable to start targeting anyone else nearby whom it perceives to be a sinner to be punished. Angels of penance should thus be dealt with using both extreme prejudice and caution, as they are fearsome opponents indeed. Every effort should be made to evade their hands as there appears to be no way to protect oneself from their deadly touch, while one at the same time needs to remember that physical obstacles are by no means a reliable way of keeping them at a distance. That said it appears that causing lethal damage to an angel of penance’s head, neck or torso will kill it the same as it will a mortal, making slaying them a relatively simple matter... presuming, of course, that one can manage to land a blow against them.

Angels of Fear

Angels of Fear
Occurrence: Rarely venture to Reniam for other reasons than having been summoned, or as a messenger of a god. Spiritualists and scholars have speculated that angels of fear are the result of mortals who lived their lives specifically out of fear that they might end up in the Lower Plane, decidedly committing good almost solely for selfish reasons and ultimately being willing to sacrifice anything for their own self-preservation.
Appearance: Angels of fear are green-skinned grub-like beings with faintly snake-like heads, usually no more than one or one and a half foot long. Their skin is soft and slimy, their somewhat flat, only remotely serpentine heads have no teeth of any kind, and they appear to have no eyes. They are physically completely defenseless and lack any meaningful means of locomotion. They can, however, both hear and speak.
Danger: No matter whether angels of fear are controlled or not, or even who is controlling them, they are equally dangerous to everyone that gets near them. While they are physically unimposing to say the least, not to mention blind and generally harmless, they are capable of periodic teleportation with an apparent range of about a thousand feet and are known to exude a horrendous stench. More worryingly and relevantly, however, is the innate effect they have on anyone who looks at them directly or who makes the mistake of going within sixty-five feet or less of it: anyone who does either of these things is immediately and inevitably trapped within their own minds, their bodies paralyzed by the angel’s magic, and are made to face their worst fears in a psychic arena of the victim’s own making. This experience has been known to be harrowing to even the bravest souls, leaving none without deep psychological scars, driving many insane and sometimes even rendering the victim permanently catatonic or making them suicidal from the intense, merciless self-discovery they are made to experience. One remains trapped within the angel’s illusion until one successfully faces and overcomes all of one’s worst fears, at which point the angel sets one free. Once someone reattains their freedom the angel is completely defenseless against that person, making killing it a simple matter.
Conclusion: More so than with any other angel it is best to aim to end angels of fear’s summoners while avoiding the angels themselves at all costs, as even those with immense mental fortitude will at the very least be rendered paralyzed by the angel’s magic and thus be vulnerable to attacks from other sources. There is no generally applicable strategy with angels of fear if one succumbs to their magic, no advice to offer and no easy way to escape; all one can do is to face the trials the angel sends against one, however nightmarish and insurmountable they might seem, and try to persevere. If one manages to break free from the spell, however, it is important to remember that others might still be prisoners of the angel’s spell and kill it as quickly as possible, as doing so will immediately free anyone else from their individual nightmares.

The Prophecy

It's always interesting to see how others imagine one's own creations, and doubly so since I don't think I've ever actually seen anything you've drawn. I'll look forward to it.

The Prophecy

The Duchy of Zerul, by a road in southwest

It is as I feared, then, Olan thought sadly as he continued listening to their defeated assailant. Not even Angora herself seems convinced that the people she killed previously were actually after her or her sword. It was all based on the basic assumption that they might attack her. Luckily it seems that she is starting to question that way of doing things herself, but that doesn’t bring back the people she has killed...
He sighed to himself, closing his eyes as he tried to think, somewhat distraught that none of the others saw fit to help him with this exchange, leaving everything in his hands. Oddly though, it felt as if the responsibility was not new to him... as though being decisive had once been a core part of who he was, but had been left behind at some point, long before he had lost his memory. There was still flashes of this old him – how many “old him”s were there, he wondered? – such as when he had attacked Rilon or earlier, when he had thrown himself bodily at Usha to save his friends... And then there was the reaching to his hip reflexively, as though to draw a weapon that was not there. It was something deeply ingrained in his body and soul, just like the ability to use the true words and seeing the “second nature” of things. Second nature... what, he wondered, would he see if he had been able to look at himself? If he glanced at a mirror, would he see something else besides his own face looking back? Behind the veil...
He shuddered at the thought; for some reason, those words seemed to resonate with him very strongly.

“She admits that she attacked the other people first,” he translated Angora’s words for the others, opening his eyes and maintaining an uncharacteristically serious mien. “And says that she felt like ‘the natural thing to do’ was to kill them before they could kill her.”
He looked around at the others nervously, but also with an alien hardness in his gaze that seemed like it belonged to someone completely different than the usually lighthearted Olan; it was a contrast that seemed to cut even sharper due to the omittance of his habitual “you know”. “It’s not her fault that she is like this, I think... She can’t control the aura that is affecting everyone, either, but it seems to come from something... else.” He sighed and shook his head. “This is my own observation, but there is something in her that isn’t mortal that’s affecting her... and it’s fused with her. We can’t leave her, or she will keep killing people.”
He fell silent when Angora spoke again, listening intently. He switched to true words once more: “I can translate anything,” he told her confidently, “if you can remember the words, I can tell you their meaning.”

The Prophecy

The Duchy of Zerul, by a road in southwest

Olan listened intently as the stranger – Angora, apparently – haltingly tried to explain herself, though her explanation left much to be desired in terms of clarification. She had attacked them because she simply assumed that they would attack her? Motivation like that was what drove psychotic murderers all over Reniam, and was generally one of the least excusable reasons for attacking others, especially if one had no justifiable reason to assume that they were really in danger. It was particularly dangerous just by the fact that there was no possible way to ensure that such a person bettered themselves and overcame their paranoia... aside from turning them into sniffers, that was. Usually though, people like that were either locked away for the rest of their lives as to not endanger others, or they were simply executed if they had managed to actually kill anyone in their delirium.
And that was really the worst part; had it just been her attacking them because of her mental state it might have been forgivable if they chose to forgive her, but the way she explained herself made it sound as though their group had not been the first... and all things considered, it was probably not too much of a stretch to presume that the others she had previously encountered were now dead, considering the intense murderous intent she had displayed when immediately coming at them with her sword drawn. And how well could they trust that these others had really “wanted the sword” and attacked her, rather than simply being random passerby groups like themselves?
The sword... Olan looked at the black weapon, the gaze of his uniform eyes untraceable to the observer, and frowned. He had been so fascinated with Angora herself that he had barely paid attention to her weapon, and even now he personally found the sword not to be anywhere near as intriguing as the woman herself. Judging by the color of the metal and the craftsmanship in general, he figured there was a fair chance that it was obsidite... and it had glowing runes engraved into the blade. It certainly looked powerful and valuable, possibly even enough so that nefarious elements might be inclined to try to steal it, but that was really all he could tell just by looking at it. It was not like Angora herself, had no “second nature” for him to see... that is, it was not alive.

“Why did you have to make a promise like that?” Jaelnec asked bitterly, his voice a noticeably higher pitch than normal, as he gingerly stumbled over to where everyone were gathering. He still had his sword in hand, ready to resume fighting if it became necessary, but at least he did not seem to intend to attack Angora, even if he was visibly (and understandably) angry. “I really want to kill her...”
Olan pondered briefly whether to address the others in true words as well, just so that Angora would know what she told them, but ultimately decided against it in an effort to try to preserve his energy in case he needed it. “She says her name is Angora,” he told them in Rodorian, “and that she thought we would attack her, you know... because others have? She says that they wanted her sword.”
He frowned again, turning back to Angora and switching to speaking in true words again. “Can you do something about... that?” he asked, gesturing vaguely at the churning, coiling ethereal her-not-her that only he could see. “Your aura-thing? I think everyone would be in a better mood if you could tone that down a little.”

The Prophecy

The Duchy of Zerul, by a road in southwest

Oh... what is that? Olan thought as soon as he had gotten over the initial fright of the attacker’s battle-cry and had a chance to take a good look at her. Not only was that woman giving off some kind of aura that appeared to be capable of affecting people around her adversely, but she also looked weird... and not in the mundane kind of savage way, but in a not-entirely-mortal way. The experience was actually remarkable enough for the old explorer for it to revive some brief images of when he had looked at Annabelle, and later when he had looked at Black Thorn, only to at the same time witness their physical selves and their hidden true forms.
What he saw when he looked at the strange woman was not the fiery form of a hidden demon or a twisted, bloody abomination with no purpose but to inflict misery upon all beings of the planes, however... in fact he was fairly confident, even having lost his memories, that he had never seen anything quite like her before. There was something in her that was not in her, but was her, yet different from what she was. It was a puzzlingly paradoxical conclusion, but some part of him was sure that there was some truth to it. She was the mundane-looking sword-wielding woman, but she was also something else... something that was both a separate thing inside her and an integral part of her, as if forcibly fused with her. It was two beings made one: a woman and something shapeless and undefinable, something that coiled around her like wispy smoke while at the same time filling her inside, flitting about like a swarm of niin eager to touch and feel everything.
It is there, yet it is not there, he mused to himself as he stared at the woman in open-mouthed fascination. Something just behind the veil that peeked through, only to get stuck on this side. This... there might not be another being like this in all the planes, and there might never have been another before it.

“And ye... Ye... could ye understan’ her?”
Olan blinked, momentarily confused from being stirred from his amazement at this unique creature when he was addressed by Domhnall, making the old man look at the scene before him in surprise as though he had only now just realized that a fight had taken place and been finished while he had not been paying attention. It had been a brief but fierce struggle, to be sure, and both the attacker and Thaler appeared to have received significant injuries, and he had just been standing there dazedly watching it all happen without even lifting a finger to help.
Ashamed and nervous he hurried forward – having automatically undone Thaler’s true word without even realizing that he had done so – to offer his assistance now, at least.
“Oh yes, I can,” he eagerly assured the man, taking a second to recall what the woman had said before continuing. “She’s pleading for mercy, you know? It’s like Devil’s Tongue, her language, just a very crude version of it...”
He looked at the woman and, having identified her language, began to say, “Lahn-”
But he immediately stopped himself before he even got past the first syllable, eyes widening with the sheer stupidity of what he had just almost done. The true words did not allow him to reproduce dialects or accents, he knew, and only allowed him to speak the most basic version of every language... and he, in wanting to communicate with this woman, had just come dangerously close to start speaking in perfect Devil’s Tongue, which would have been a phenomenally bad idea. Who knew what kinds of devastation he could have wrought through accidentally invoked black magic? Besides, there was no guarantee that this woman would even understand “proper” Devil’s Tongue... he wondered how she had even learned that language in the first place, considering how great an effort most countries put into eradicating every record of the language they could get their hands on?
Instead of running the risk of killing them all with black magic, then, Olan opted a somewhat safer option that only posed an insignificant risk to his own health: actually speaking in true words, the language that could be understood by anyone and anything.
“We won’t kill you unless we have to,” he told her, deciding that he might as well speak on behalf of the group now rather than wait to hear what the others thought he should say. Besides, he was fairly sure that he was saying what they would have wanted him to say anyways. “Why did you attack us?” And what are you? he wanted to ask, but decided against it for more reasons than it just not being appropriate for the severity of the situation; with how entwined the woman-and-other-thing was, he figured there was probably a fair chance that they did not even realize that they were not originally one being and would be unable to answer.

The Prophecy

The Duchy of Zerul, by a road in southwest

Move, he had to move fast, act, stop the enemy, pacify her somehow... His highest priority right now had to be trying to ensure Thaler’s safety, and the way the situation had turned out – though their odds were probably a bit better than they had been before the daywalker’s interference – she was the one being targeted by this unknown assailant. Thanks to Mother Tigress apparently allowing him to move again, somehow, he was free to close the distance the struggling women had stumbled away, but... what then?
I can just slash at her with Roct, he thought, still staggering ahead to cover the scant few strides that separated him and his opponent. I... no. Usually I’d be confident that I could aim a blow that would kill her without injuring Thaler, but the way I feel right now? I can barely walk straight.
He decided on an attack that would deal more localized damage and would not penetrate through: a solid knock on the woman’s head with the pommel of his sword. Even if he was reduced to a clumsy stagger, delivering that kind of blunt force trauma to a human skull was probably going to kill her, or at the very least render her dazed for a while. He just had to let his forward momentum carry into the attack, keep moving until it hit, and –

His reflexes were not what they usually were, nor were his powers of perception, so not only would he not have been able to react in time, he did not even notice the woman aiming her kick at him. Propped against the ground as she was and with him moving toward her, there was plenty of force behind the kick, and it hit a bit too... well. Jaelnec did not even cry out in pain – did not think he could have, the way his throat contracted to the point where he could barely even breathe – but just let out a tense guttural sound through clenched teeth, the world swimming before his eyes as he breathlessly stumbled back, doubling over and quietly grunting as he endured this sinister malady.
What is this fight? he thought unhappily, blindly reaching out his left hand in hopes of finding a tree or something to support himself against. She... oh Spirits... argh... who does that?!

The Prophecy

I don't really think that anything has come up for the sisters to react to (aside from Ixion deciding to call it a night) in any meaningful way, so the only thing I could really do in that scene currently would be to perform the fast-forward... which I still would prefer avoiding (not that there's much point in maintaining the current time, given that all the characters are going to sleep and consequently will be somewhat awkward for the main group to encounter). You can go ahead with Morgan if you have anything to post.

The Prophecy

Duchy of Pelgaid, secluded pond

Renold let out a disheartened sigh accompanied by a gust of hot air when Jillian inquired as to the mechanics of possession. “Had it been anything but a demon lord – even half a demon lord – not only wouldn’t it have been able to enter us without an invitation, but we could probably also resist possession to some degree. Hazzergash, though... as a deity, he can possess and completely seize control of any of us with just a second’s warning. There’s no way to stop it... but as to seeing it coming...” He paused, thinking deeply, then held up his right front paw, “palm” up, and spread his talons wide. “He is incorporeal the way he is now, but is made up of a humongous amount of magical energy. Have you ever seen anyone producing a large amount of magical energy all at once?”
Abruptly something sprang into existence around the Green’s upheld paw, although it would perhaps be more appropriate to say that it turned visible, since it was technically something that had been there all along. Wrapping around his talons, harmlessly licking his scales on both sides of the appendage and extending in every direction in two-foot-long tongues of ephemeral yellow fire, a translucent aura manifested itself out of the sheer concentration of magical energy. It was a strange sight to behold, counter-intuitively casting no light and seemingly moving in lazy disregard of wind and gravity alike.
The dragon only maintained the aura for several seconds before drawing the energy back into himself, causing the ephemeral non-flame to quickly withdraw back into his paw. “The color will differ, but generally that is what it will look like. Hazzergash, when outside of a host, will look similarly, just... thicker.”
“So we will at least be able to tell who gets possessed if he tries something like that,” Gerald sighed, happy to have that detail confirmed for himself. “Luckily there’s an easy solution to how to deal with him potentially possessing us.”
Crone turned her head to shoot a curious look at the necromancer. “Would you care to elaborate?”
“It’s simple,” he shrugged. “We all just need to be inside the binding circle. That way whoever he decides to possess, there are still at least two others ready to activate the circle after he’s put himself in it. That way he’ll be vulnerable, and I will be free to siphon him back into the prison.”

The Prophecy

The Duchy of Zerul, by a road in southwest

The woman did not relent when he pushed against her, but rather seemed intent on trying to overpower him, pushing back and turning it into a contest of strength... something Jaelnec was somewhat baffled by, seeing as he could tell that she would not be able to crush her way through his guard through sheer force. Confused, distracted and generally reduced in his mental prowess as he was it did not even occur to him that her refusal to fall back was just a step in a longer series of planned events. This strange thing that affected him had gotten even stronger after receiving her attack, and by now it seemed that even trying to focus his vision on his opponent was getting difficult. He was, in other words, in a seriously bad spot.
Mother Tigress, on the other hand, was apparently having the time of her life. “Yes, keep pushing into the sword like that! So much energy... that sword is flush with unbound magical energy. Delicious!”
Please don’t interfere, he begged her in his thoughts, desperate at the notion that he was practically at the mercy of this creature. Please...

But before anything else of significance could happen, the extra weight suddenly pressed into the squire’s sword for a moment before it faltered, the two clashing swords parting – earning a disappointed groan from Mother Tigress – as the attacker staggered back, now seemingly forgetting about him in favor of dealing with a new nuisance in the form of the white-haired, white-skinned and white-eyed woman that had just materialized out of nothing – or so it seemed to him at the moment – and simply jumped at their enemy’s back. Thaler...
Desperate to do whatever he could to help the woman who was at once his apprentice, his friend and the love of another friend, the Nightwalker tried to move forward, only to find that he was still rooted to the place. Growling in frustration he fought against the compulsion to stay where he was, all while the world kept feeling more and more as though it was a ship swaying on sea in a storm, as though the ground was moving beneath him and horrors of indeterminable nature kept threatening him from all directions. He had to move, had to help her... Move his feet, one ahead of the other, come on, come on!
“I know you told me not to interfere,” that unwelcome voice commented in his head, an unbidden distraction from his vain struggle against Thaler’s power, “but you will have to forgive me for giving you what you need rather than what you ask for. That sword just fed me months’ worth of energy, so I’ll use some of it to undo the true word. The rest I’ll leave up to you.”
Jaelnec felt a pulse of intense heat pass through his body and suddenly – so suddenly that he almost fell on his face for the second time in a very short period of time – he found that he could move again.

Gripping Roct by the handle with both hands, the squire threw himself forward at the two struggling women, determined to at the very least distract their opponent to stop her from hurting Thaler.