TVC - Chapter 42 - Ashes to Ashes

[Sweeney Todd]

A dinner bell rings thrice and a latch slides open to reveal a steaming meatpie sitting upon a plate of fine china. A Wight in a well tailored suit with a towel draped on one arm emerges from the recesses of the dimly lit restaraunt to collect the dish. Witchlights flicker in its eye as it turns its head left and right. Seeing the door-sized hole blown in the Patisserie's hull, it realizes that the customer has left and moves out in search of a waiting courier bat.

In the meantime, the Patisserie, having completed a ponderous but inevitable turn began another charge. In the space of seconds at least another tenth of the Baalak Gul were liquefied beyond the ability of any necromancy spell to raise. This time round it did not stop at that. It, and the Headless Hunt chasing in its wake rode forth to stem the tide of the Carstein reinforcements. At the same time, a swarm of Fell Bats spilled forth from the upper decks of the Patisserie. Many plow right into those controlled by the Carsteins, paving the way for the bombardment squadrons to begin their work. They fly forth in search of the nearest enemy vampire or necromancer before depositing the alchemical explosives they bear upon them. Having exhausted they payload, they then return to base to rearm for a second attack run, though not all escape without first being intercepted by the teeming masses of the Carsteins' aerial minions.

One amongst the bats slips through in search of Zaak. Even as he waves his sword forward to signal an advance a meatpie with a note stuck to it by a toothpick appears balanced on the tip of the blade. He turns to look at the one who brought it to him only to spy the rapidly receding form of Todd's delivery service. Struck by sudden curiosity Zaak extricates the toothpick and reads the note upon it.

"On the house - Zandos' Meatpies" is squiggled on the paper in somewhat archaic Reikspiel.

*********

Todd immediately realises something is wrong as Akarin's glowing crimson eye meet his, and flinches away from his gaze, but it is not enough to escape what follows next. Almost immediately his world shifts, and the figures of the assassins blur and split into five identical copies. Abruptly they merge into one again.

"HAH!" Akarin turns to Todd, showing him an outstretched palm. One of his own hands, however is inexplicably in the shape of a scissors.

"You can't defeat me." As all around him blurs and splits into multiple copies once again, it becomes obvious that he is under the effect of some sort of hypnosis. Todd lashes out wildly before slumping down and convulsing. He knew that in order to stand a chance of even shaking off the illusion he will have to shackle the beast within again in order to devote the full strength of the iron will that was honed in the Far East to the effort of freeing himself from illusory shackles. What he does not realise, as his vision inexplicably dissolves into him replying to Akarin's clenched fist with an outstretched hand, is that he in fact struck home. A silver razor slices deep into Akarin's solar plexus, making him recoil in pain.

Trapped within the vortex that is slowly but surely gaining strength and facing an opponent who can match him move for move, Silibar giggles to himself and dissolves into mist in an attempt to escape and reform elsewhere, and hence endlessly frustrate the Geralt duelling him. What he doesn't realise however is that turning into mist does not make him immune to the touch of Moonfang, as he abruptly finds out when Geralt delivers a diagonal cut that forces Silibar to return to his corporeal form again. The wounded flesh smoulders as the blessing of the elven moon goddess Lileath begins to consume his form.

Gritting his teeth Graveclaw roars in pain and pulls out the silver daggers stuck in his body. Almost immediately his wounds begin to heal, as the entropic vortex channeled by Mrs. Lovette sucks out the life essence of the two assassins and transfers it to her allies. He rushes at the Akarin wading in to deal the currently defenseless Todd the coup de grace. The assassin notices him but under the strengthening influence of the vortex his movements are too sluggish to completely avoid the palm that slaps him aside and off his feet with several broken bones.

At the edge of the assassins' peripheral vision were the ranks of the Fallschirmverfluchte closing in around them and hence tightening the noose around the two assassins. With the trap closing about them, they would soon have to use an arcane means of escape or else be brutally murdered by Todd's allies and his warhost.

OOC: This is what Todd is seeing now.

 

[Count Erick]

A stiff breeze passed through trees as Louis d'Ardenn loosened his clothes, fangs flashing in the moonlight. A cloud passed over the moons, casting darkness over the land for a moment and concealing d'Ardenn from Ashlotte's view.
When the cloud passed, Ashlotte could see a wolf standing where d'Ardenn had been. It looked for all the world like an ordinary animal. At almost the exact instant she could make it out the beast lunged for her, jaws wide revealing gleaming fangs.

 

[TMS]

The wolf's lunge was too quick for Ashlotte to counter and she could only bring the Krnielk up in time to get the beast to slam its slavering jaws shut around the weapon's haft instead of her head.

The wolf tore and tugged violently in multiple directions but could not get the iron maiden to loosen her steel grip. Before long, she could foresee in which direction the wolf planned to throw itself next and by forcefully yanking the Krnielk the opposite way she freed herself from the beast and immediately swung the massive polearm in a continuous motion.

 

[Get of W'soran]

Akarin's eyes dart in eery direction, he can interpret just what each person is going to do...
And none of it looks good for him.
"Whom do we strike at next?" Silibar asks with a smirk
Akarin shakes his head warily
"We must escape...use the multiplication one" the senior assassin hissed
Silibar's smile slips, a look of dissapointment passing over his features before his grin comes back
"Aye, aye boss."
Under his breath Silibar murmering the lullaby tones of the illusion spell, as he continues his voice picks up volume so that all the vampires nearby can hear.
Within the gaze's of Geralt and Graveclaw Akarin and Silibar blur, within seconds four of each are standing nearby.
Three Akarin's charge at Graveclaw whilst the Three Silibars run back towards Geralt.
Meanwhile the remaining Silibar slumped to his knee's whilst the remaining Akarin pulled out three small balls and smashed them into the ground covering the area in smoke.

Graveclaw roared as the triplet of Akarins charged him when they became close enough his eyes widened as the three assassins faded away into nothingness.
The same was occuring with Geralt as he raised Moonfang to strike down the Silibars.

Within the smoke Akarin sensed the arcane signiture of Silibar's spell vanish
The illusions are gone, better be quick. he though to himself.
Reaching down he lifted the tired Silibar to his feet.
"Get ready." he spat
He glanced around, there wasn't enough shadow nearby to vanish so that left only one method to move.
The two von Cartsein's turned to mist as they floated across the battlefield to resolidify in the darkest patch of shadows they could find.
Within seconds the assassins dissapeared into the darkness, as they where so famous for doing.
Near Micrea the two assassins stepped out of the shadows, Silibar collapsed to his knees feeling completely drained, Akarin on the other hand stumbled forward slightly and bowed
"We failed in ending them Marshal" Akarin muttered feeling tired as he rearranged his hair to cover the crimson eye.
He had used the illusionary eye twice in less than half an hour and it had drained him deeply.
Silibar on the other hand had been cut by a powerful blade and had used an illusion to trick the mind of two rather strong vampires.
Until they fed the Assassins would be of limited use.

 

[Gree]

''I know, I know'' Mircea replied. ''It was a glorious victory was it not?'' Mircea replied to Peter. He had his eyes on the battlefield, observing the movements of his troops and how each action faired.

Then Akarin and Silbar arrived.

''I don't believe I ever told you to go kill those enemies, I simply told you to retrive Karl'' Mircea said, mentioning to the vampire lord on the ground, who was undergoing healing by some of Mircea' attendant necromancers.

''No matter, stay here and rest, let my troops handle the fight now'' Mircea ordered as he sent in anthor wave of skeletons, he could see the enemy lines starting to crack form the sttrition.

 

[Count Erick]

d'Arden lunged at Ashlotte at the same time she swung the Krnielk. Jumping through the air, it was impossible for the wolf to dodge the blow.
Before Ashlotte's very eyes the Krnielk passed right through the wolf. She felt no resistance at all. The polearm impacted into the dirt, and the wolf hit her in the chest. The impact of the blow made her stumble backwards a few steps.

Her foot stepped into the shadow of one of the many trees that surrounded them, the shadow cast by the two moons high above. At that instant Ashlotte felt something slam into her back so hard it threw her forward, knocking her off her feet.

Ashlotte rose up, gripping the Krnielk. Wolf-d'Arden was laughing, a strange disturbing sound issuing from his maw. Again he lunged and Ashlotte brought the Krnielk up to impale the wolf. The creature again did the impossible and passed right through the weapon. Moveing to the side, D'Arden latched his jaws around the Krnielk and began to pull the weapon and Ashlotte towards the trees.
It was a slow, exhaustive effort for the wolf, but it finally managed to drag the tip of the weapon under the shadow of a tree.
Something reached out of the darkness and grasped the part of the weapon under the shadow of the tree, a black shape with gleaming yellow eyes that couldnt be clearly defined. The edges of the shape blended in with the darkness of the shadow so it was nearly impossible for it to be identified. Its grip was far, far stronger than that of the wolves and it began to pull Ashlotte into the darkness...

 

[Drog_Manslayer]

Arg isn't a duelist. His strength lays in wading into packed enemy formations and chopping them to pieces. And knitting. He's really good at knitting. The battle standard of the happy orc face that flies over his army, which incidently isn't here, yeah.. all Arg. He says it "'elps 'im fink."

So, anyway, back to the point. He's not a duelist, so when confronted by a single, skilled or powerful enemy, he likes to use distractions. Most people might think that an Orc is incapable of such treachery, that they are too stupid or simple to come up with those kinds of plans. Those people are generally misguided and end up in the slop bucket. Mmmmm Slop. Just the thought of some good bloody slop makes Args mouth water.. well.. bleed. Because his mouth doesn't really water, instead blood comes out. Weird that.

The charging boar boy flies off the boar right into Skold when the boar gets hit. The huge northman doesn't have much trouble with the creature that hits him, as the smashed face boar falls over on its side, and tosses the greenskin away like yesterdays refuse. Or maybe a sack of potatoes. I guess that depends on what analogy you like better.

The huge Khornate then turns and yells "FIGHT...." But then he realizes the Warboss is already upon him and a huge bloody axe, covered in dwarven runes and crackling with dark enegy is descending at an extremely fast rate directly at his face.... This is going to leave a mark.

 

[Trevy the Great]

Vekarin was driven back, slowly but surely by the relentless attack of the Ancient Warrior before him, swords swinging faster than any mortal eye could follow. Vekarin’s shield flashed almost as fast, his feet working to move past his opponent’s attacks and find new footholds to repel them when they fell upon him. He stepped back and steeled himself for another powerful blow that he barely deflected with this mirrored shield, the reflective surface of the shield still miraculously unblemished by the continued attacks. As he stepped back under the tirade of steel, his foot knocked against something. As blow after blow was deflected by his shield, and between the flashes of the skeletal figure’s weapons Vekarin noticed that his vision dimmed – no, not so much as dimmed as the light left his vision, creating a nimbus of darkness about his fight.
With a tremendous push, Vekarin fought back against the massive warrior, slamming his swords aside with sweeping blocks with his shield, buying himself a moment’s respite. He glanced down and saw what he had knocked him his foot. As the skeletal warrior attacked again, Vekarin dodged, rolling under the ancient warrior’s attack.
“Traitor V’azrin, bastard son of W’soran, hear this. Your contraptions betray your cowardice, for you are not worthy to face us open combat. You may crawl mewling back to your dark master, but cowards are hunted like animals.”
V’azrin’s creation attacked again, its swords swining wildly, with massive strength as the Necrarch focused his will upon the bones of the ancient warrior. This time, however, Vekarin was ready for the creature’s assault as he raised his new weapon, and the Dark Blade seemed to shimmer as it drew the moonlight within it.

 

[TMS]

Whatever it was that had grabbed hold of the Krnielk was strong, far too strong for even Ashlotte's impressive physical might and she was slowly being pulled inside the dark shadow cast by the grotesquely shaped trees. The darkling monster extended another grasping claw towards Ashlotte's head with the intent to crush it but before it got the chance, a bolt of magic lanced into the darkness from within the Iron Maiden towards the monster's menacingly glowing eyes. This forced the beast to release its powerful grip, allowing Ashlotte to regain control of both her weapon and footing.

Quick to use the situation to her advantage, Ashlotte swung her weapon through the darkness in front of her at the massive body which physically had to dwell within. The Krnielk made contact with nothing made of flesh but instead hacked into one of the trees, cutting a large part of the tree's thin trunk out. She had barely managed to retrieve her weapon before a huge bestial fist struck out from the darkness and impacted with her face, sending her tumbling backwards down in the soil.

The blow had been destructively powerful and had caused one of her imitated cheekbones to become disfigured but she rose to her feet regardless. She now stood in a spot of light which appeared to shrink with every passing moment as the dark and haunted trees seemed to cluster themselves ever closer to each other. Looking around herself to try and spot the location of the opponent, Helena's voice rang out from inside of Ashlotte,

-"A most cunning little trick indeed, Shadow-Fiend: hiding your true self within the darkness to strike out with an immaterial puppet in an attempt to draw your victim closer to the shadows. Might I be right in guessing that outside of the dark, your powers will be nullified? If so, what say that we lend ourselves to a bit of grooming?"

With this, Ashlotte drew her repeater pistol and aimed it towards the many trees around her - with enough bullets fired they'd be taken down, thus forcing the enemy out of his hiding place.

 

[Disciple of Nagash]

Lesa hastily backed up in alarm as her husband prepared to strike. For a moment she had almost believed that Milosh had broken free of V'azrin's spell, her heart overruling her head.

"Milosh," she cried as she stumbled back from the advancing Dreadlord, "you are stronger than this, stronger than that bastard Necrarch. Our love is stronger! Can you truly not feel it deep inside you?"

There was no pause in Milosh's footsteps as he stalked closer,

"The only thing I feel is disgust," he spat back, "disgust that I once laid with a whore who would betray our one and only true master." Lunging forward he brought it sword round in a glittering arc, only for it to meet thin air as Lesa moved out of the way with the speed her line was fabled for.

"Won't stay still bitch?" he snarled, "well I can soon fix that." Milosh launched himself into the air, his body dispersing into a black mist that hung motionless before rushing down towards Lesa at a punishing speed. She knew that somewhere in there Milosh's deadly blade was seeking her out, and she dropped instinctively to the ground as it cleaved where she had stood moments before. As Lesa stood she was already reciting the words to the containment spell she had used on him previously, and she heard a howl of rage as Milosh realised what she was doing. His mist form twisted and rushed back for another strike but it was not fast enough as the last word left Lesa's mouth. Instantly the purple energy beams wrapped themselves round the Dreadlord's body, forcing him back to his corporeal form which sent him plummeting back to the ground.

Hesitantly Lesa stalked closer to where Milosh had fallen, Master Sword ready in her hand. He mind was running round in circles, unsure what to do. The only thing that was certain in her head, was that some way, somehow, she knew she could break the hold on her husband.

"So it looks like we will have to do this the old fashioned way," Milosh's hate filled voice hissed, stopping Lesa in her tracks. Slowly and painfully he pushed himself to his feet, arcs of his wifes spell running over his body. "You seem so surprised that I stand. You always did overrate your pathetic abilities. This body was gifted to me by the Supreme Lord of Undeath. You may have bound my mist form and powers, but I am still more than capable of crushing your tainted body."

This time when he swung his sword it made contact, crashing into the raised Master Sword whose runes flared brightly. In quick succession he struck twice, then three times, the power driving the Lahmian backwards. Each time she only just managed to block the blows, and it was plain to see she could not match her husband in combat. But then she did not have to. From her free hand a fireball lashed out, hitting Milosh square in the chest. Another three followed quickly, reversing the situation and giving Lesa time to think as Milosh stumbled back, singed but unhurt.

"I know you're in there," Lesa begged, "just try to remember. You always said you would be there for me. Have you forgotten your promise?"

*************************************

As Mircea stood surveying his conquering force someone pushed their way through his surrounding bodyguard. Swiftly he turned to see one of the Carstein thralls, a weak vampire who had been assigned to protect one one of the Carstein's rearguard necromancers.

"Milord!" The vampire seemed obviously distraught by the way he nervously licked his fangs, yet he also seemed fearful of Mircea's wrath, "Milord I have grave news. The Knights of the Blood Keep have arrived and are attacking our rearguard....they-"

The vampires words died out as a trumpeting carried over from the rear of the Carsteins forces. Swiftly climbing a nearby rocky outcrop Mircea looked back. Already having crushed the rearguard the Knights of the Blood Keep stood proud in their crimson armour, ready to sweep down and crush the Carstein's army. At their head, resplendent in his plate armour atop was mighty nightmare was Walach Harkon, Grandmaster of Blood Keep and one of the most deadliest warriors in existence.

For a moment they simply stood their before Walach raised his blood smeared blade into the air. As he slashed it back down the host as one gave a mighty roar that reached the ears of Mircea before he knights moved forward like a crimson tide, ready to crush everything in their path.

 

[Lord of Ravens]

At hearing news of his sires aria Peter was overjoyed. He struggled to his feet, and clambered up beside Mircea on his rock.

"They have come for you Mircea. For all the tricks and tactics of your Bloodline, you can not match the skill and strength of mine. You are undone old friend," Peter slowly put his arm around Mircea's shoulder.

"If you surrender now, I will put in a good word for you with Walach. I still hold some favour with him, and he may spare your life. Please," he pleaded, genuinely concerned about his old companion, "Just surrender."

 

[Get of W'soran]

Akarin broke out laughing at Peter's words
"How very amusing Lord Blood Dragon" he snickered with a wide smile
Silibar's wide grin grew even wider as his master spoke
"So...you think what? That the Marshal will just give up? Will just surrender to you his old friend?" he asked looking amused
Glancing over at Walach his smile died away slightly to be replaced by a more serious expression
"Don't count us out yet..." he murmered
This is merely a single battle in the war he thought with amusement

_____________________________________________________

V'azrin felt his attention draw away as his necromancer's screamed out for assistance from Damek, he snarled slightly getting ready to turn his full attention back to killing the get of traitor Abhorash but at the last moment he sensed Lesa battling Milosh.
He grinned suddenly feeling exultation wash over him
Soon the whore dies and I shall be free of even the memory of her he thought joyfully.
Suddenly he remembered the ancient warrior which he had allowed to run of half his mind, cursing angrily he put forth his full effort back towards killing Vekarin, hoping his hesitation hadn't been to long.

 

[Count Erick]

Sköll looked up just in time to see the Orc's axe heading strait for his face. He stepped back and to the left, and the axe bit deep into his right shoulder. Blood pumped from the wound rappidly, and Sköll's face was covered in his own blood.
He began to laugh. Short barking laughter, his eyes flashing with pure, undiluted insanity.

He brought his own two axes up and, with the one in his right hand hacked at Arg's upper body, while slashing at his legs with his left. He was trying to ensure a hit to either the Orcs upper or lower body, as it was near impossible to dodge both blows at the same time.

---

Ashlotte began firing at the trees, splintering them and causing them to crash to the ground. She ignored the immaterial wolf, fending it off with the Krnielk when it got to close. Soon all the trees where on the ground, blasted apart.
But the wolf was still there before her, prowling around her.

Suddenly Ashlotte felt something grasp the forearm that held her Krnielk with huge strength. She looked around and was stunned.
Her own shadow had reared up and attacked her. Its form still lay on the ground, but it was also stretched up into something massive and yet indistinct. She could make out two arms, one of which now grasped her, and a head with glowing yellow eyes. A chill sound whispered in her ear.
"Well done milady! You grasped the nature of my abilities rather quickly. Truth be told, I don't prefer transferring myself to the shadows cast by other creatures, as it leaves me vulnerable to sudden changes in light, however you haven't left me any choice in the matter."
The monsters other arm came up and grasped Ashlottes throat.
"There is no escape from this, one of us must die in this challenge. But I am not without mercy. Is there anything you would like for me to convey to your comrades mademoiselle?"

 

[Gree]

Mircea backhanded Peter, throwing the weakened Blood Dragon back onto the rocks. His mind was still processing the details of the newcomers attack. The Blood Dragon army had arrived.

He realized that he could not win this battle. His tactical position was completely untenable. To fight on was suicide. The best he could hope for was to extract as many units as he could.

He looked up distantly where V’razin was, he had no ides what the old vampire was thinking, but the Von Carstein was retreating anyway.

‘’I don’t know if you have forgotten this Peter, over the long centuries.’’ Mircea began. ‘’But I can turn into a bat. If needed to I can turn into a swarm or of mist, I can very easily escape here’’ he explained.

‘’But my priority now is extracting the army’’ Mircea explained. He turned to Jan and issued a set of orders. Then he gave a short bark, several Fell Bats came down form the dark skies.

Quickly Mircea issued a mental order to each Vampire Bat, and send them off. Each one carried an order to various commanders to withdraw as soon as they possibly could.

Looking back Mircea observed the Blood Dragon’s movements, they had formed up into a calvery wedge, as was quite typical of their battle formations, other than that Walach Chose the direct method of getting into battle.

The crimson armored warriors where soon proving their worth on the battlefield, but the von Carstein would see quite a lot of troops between them and him.

Mircea’s response would be simple. He would feed with the Council’s forces skeletons and zombies, while he did the same to the Blood Dragon’s, all the while extracting some of the more worthwhile units.

It was quite simple really.



Walach howled as he crashed into a unit of skeletons, who crumpled under the weight of the Grand Master and his retinue of Inner Circle Knights, who tore through the enemy like a knife through hot butter.

Initially he had been surprised when he came ot the field, to see elements of the council fighting alongside one another. But he had simply chosen to fight on the side that contained the most Blood Dragons.

‘’Onwards! For the Blade!’’

 

[Belladamma Voltaire]

Almost time

Amadeus Valda watched the battle unfolding from near the rear of the Councils lines. His plan for making small cells had not worked and sooner rather than later he would be faced with the insurmountable forces of the Von Carstein host. Turning to look behind him slightly he small the Councils reserves, his reserves. Crossbowmen and the Legion of Forever stood ready to attack on his command as extended along the front of the line were his six chosen warriors. Lady Darkmane stood with her brethren waiting for the signal to be given. It was not time yet though, there was still something to happen and if Valda was right, it would begin the turning tide. If he unleashed these forces any sooner, it would become a textbook rout. He knew the Von Carsteins well enough to know they still had tricks up their sleeve. Thankfully, so did he.

 

[Trevy the Great]

The Ancient Warrior attacked again, with seemingly renewed vigor, massive blades flashing out at Vekarin, but the Blood Dragon was ready for it. As its first sword descended upon him, the Dark Blade sped up to meet it. The blow was powerful, supported as it was by the raw power of the warding surrounding the Ancient Warrior's skeletal body, however it was no match for the power inherent in Vekarin's weapon. The swords rang as they collided, the Dark Blade notching the Ancient Warrior's weapon while remaining unblemished. Using his new-found leverage, Vekarin knocked aside the warrior's other sword and spun into the attack, closing the distance between him and his opponent. The skeletal warrior stepped back, but Vekarin has already stepped forward, another swing of his blade shattering the Ancient Warrior's sword, the severed pieces falling to the ground. Following up the attack with another and ignoring the awkward retaliatory strike of the Ancient Warrior's long weapon that slammed against his armor, Vekarin's blade sliced into the bone of the Ancient Warrior's leg. The attack left a massive split in the bone of the warrior and the runes about the injury dimmed somewhat and Vekarin leaped away from his opponent. The darkness of the warding covering the Ancient Warrior seemed to spread, the arcane runes dimming like the evening as the Dark Blade pulled the power from them, causing the warrior to move lethargically, its strength and speed sapped by the insidious power of Vekarin's sword.

Victarias opened her eyes slowly, tears of terror still filling them. She still felt her wounds, multiple gashes and punctures that covered her entire body. Simply moving was agony, as if white fire consumed her body. She had been weak, she knew, but there was nothing that could change that, nor what she had done. Running from her fate had been cowardice, but she had no other choice. She would not allow Morr to take her again.
She rose, slowly and agonizingly, her body wracked with pain and crawled over to where her weapons lay.
Perhaps she could make up her crimes in combat.

 

[Drog_Manslayer]

He doesn't need to dodge both. He doesn't even need to dodge one of them. The wound to Skolls shoulder takes the power out of the attack with that arm, causing the axe to bounce harmlessly off Arg's enchanted armor. The other smashes into Args side, biting in and drawing dark blood.

But before the northern warrior can extract the weapon, Args free hand moves down and clasps around the humans wrist, wrapping entirely around it with a vice like grip. Then he steps in closer, his enormous strength pulling the were-warrior in with him, close.. so close Args foul breath can be felt hot on the mans face. But what could he be planning? To come this close is to deny him the use of his own weapon!

But then another weapon of Args is seen. The weapon that gives him his name. His mouth opens, huge jaws parting revealing a mouth full of rows of sharp teeth. Massive steel capped tusks flash in the light as the Bloodymaw leans down towards Skolls head, easily capable of biting it off in its entirety.

 

[TMS]

Louis' supernaturally strong grip was powerful enough to bend the metal of Ashlotte's body out of shape and her iron frame groaned as the werewolf exerted increasingly more pressure unto it. The Krnielk was useless in her suspended arm and her speech impeded by the grasping talons around her neck, save for the gasping noises that escaped her mouth.

-"Unhand us, vile beast!", Helena snapped at Louis which triggered a rumbling laughter from the werewolf. While trapped, Ashlotte's other arm, the one gripping the firearm, was still free and so she did what she could - she raised the pistol and fired at the shadowy head which towered above her.

 

[Count Erick]

With a sickening crunch, Arg Bloodymaw crushed the werewolves head in his jaws. The headless body of the Northman fell to the ground in a heap, blood pooling on the ground.

---

d'Arden howled in pain as Ashlotte fired the pistol, but it was not from the bullet which flew right through the shadow creature, but from the spark of its ignition. The wolf creature howled in pain as the flash burned is flesh, and it released Ashlotte.
Taking advantage of D'Arden's sudden weakness, Ashlotte moved away, revealing the creature to the night of the moons.

Ashlotte turned to see the shadow creatures final moments. The light burned away its flesh, blacker than the darkness between stars. Its ghastly skeleton clawed at itself as the flesh was gradually eroded from it. The bones collapsed in heap. The other wolf had disappeared.

Ashlotte and Arg both looked up suddenly as they heard a howl echo through the night.

---

Müller collapsed into the mud. What had once been solid ground was now nothing but a reeking quagmire, the ground slick with blood.
He let go of the jawbone he had ripped from one of his enemies and had used to beat its former owner to death with. He had killed all of them, ripped their heads off to prevent a fluke of regenerative ability from healing them.

But they had ripped his heart out.
Literally and figuratively. The irony of the situation wasnt quite lost to Müller as he looked at his still beating heart in the mud. He reached up half heatedly to his torn open ribcage. He couldn't feel the pain of it, or the two swords that impaled his back and midriff. Or the axe stuck fast in his shoulder.
He could almost see the moons...before he closed his eyes.

 

[Drog_Manslayer]

Crunching on whats left of the northmans head, brains oozing out from beneath his massive tusks, Arg hefts up his big axe and looks around. He looks at Muller, then shrugs massive shoulders and moves over towards the werecreature and reaches down and picks up the heart.

"Yooz not should be so squishy. Dis iz yoozes." he shoves the heart back into the fallen beasts chest. "Dum puppy dog finks 'ez got krumped, but 'ez juz bein a git. BOYZ! Get up an' get redy ta foight. Dere iz still sum uf dem dead fings left ta krump."

As if on command, the fallen boyz, and their boars, start pulling themselves back together again. THeres no spells coming from the huge warboss, no intricate script of long lost languages. Just a terrible will, blasting out of him like a force of nature, that gets his dead Orcs moving.

Just what the hell is he?

 

[Disciple of Nagash]

OOC: Please do not post in here until you have completed a revised bio as per the main OOC thread. Any posts made by anyone who has not revised their bio will be deleted.

 

[TMS]

Ashlotte fell to her knees after having witnessed the destruction of the werewolf. The beast's surprised reaction once it realized what the ignition of Ashlotte's pistol would bring caused it to clasp its fists together with all of its might, causing severe damage to that which was caught in the grasp - her throat and neck were crumpled and so was one of her arms. Her head was hanging to one side, mouth agape, and her metal limb was bent at an odd angle, denying her any use of it until she'd gotten it repaired. It was only through the magical encouragement of Helena that the Iron Maiden could once again stagger unto her feet, now more like a metal puppet than anything else.

Helena hoped that Zaak and Jason had gotten out of their pickle in one piece as well.

 

[Get of W'soran]

V'azrin cursed angrily as he felt the Ancient Warrior's form become sapped of power, it's swings became slower realising that he was fighting a losing battle and that the damned construct would be destroyed he decided to gamble.
The Necrarch poured as much dark energy into his puppet as he could and forced it into an all out attack.
It will be destroyed but hopefully I can take that damned Guardsman down with it V'azrin thought angrily.
_________________________________________________________-

Under the General Micrea's orders for withdrawl the Necromancer's attending Karl hoisted his armless form up and placed it on a cart, the uncouncious Baron was then led away from the battle, closer towards the hill upon which the Dark Lord Scribe stood upon.

 

[Disciple of Nagash]

"Promise?" Milosh snarled, lashing out with his blade as he went on the offensive once more, "I made no promises to you, you are beneath......." His voice faltered for a moment as a confused look flickered over his face.

............Do you remember the promise I made?...............

The words whispered through his head from some long distant memory, that was whisked away as quickly as it surface. Milosh's face twisted in anger, his elongated incisors showing as his lips curled back from his gums.
It won't work whore," he spat, "I know you, of your mind games. If you think to manipulate my mind you fail." The two blades clashed again, both sets of runes shining like minatures suns. Again and again the Milosh attacked, Lesa only surviving due to the sentient knowledge within the Master Sword.

"I swear I am not playing with you mind," Lesa cried, "it is your own thoughts, your own mind. Your memories are coming back to you, the ones that were warped and stolen by V'azrin."

"Do you take me for some kind of idiot?" Milosh rasped as their swords locked. For a second they strove against each other before his superior strength began to tell, the Banishment Blade creeping closer to his wife face, "you lied to me once, why would I believe your words now?" A flash of light blasted the two apart, an ugly burn appearing on Milosh's face from the Burning Gaze that Lesa had cast.

"I.......I know what I did," Lesa said, her voice cracking a rivulets of crimson tears ran down her cheeks, "but that was a long time ago. We got past that.......we were stronger than ever. Please just try and remember. I know did wrong but I was so sorry."

.............“I’m so sorry."...........

As Milosh paused Lesa spoke hurriedly, trying with all her heart and soul to reach the man he once was,

"I told you why it happened, why I was so afraid. You said you understood-"

"Understood?!" How could I have understood when you was unfaithful, when you slept with that human? How you broke our vows?!-

.............when I married it I made a vow and I will always stick by it.........

"What is this?!" Milosh screamed, dropping to his knees as he grabbed his head, "what are you doing to me?! As Lesa stepped forward he glanced up sharply, grabbing his sword where it had fallen, "No....this is a game. You are in my head, changing my thoughts. You will not break me!" This time Lesa was not fast enough at the tip of the enchanted sword sliced through her thigh, the skin turning black and rotting within in seconds. The agony was immense as Lesa collapsed to the ground, the power of the dwarven forged weapon eating away at her.

"You said you loved me..." she gasped, "that I would always come first. You gave up everything......" Milosh stood, his form casting Lesa into shadow as he towered over her. Looking up at him Lesa could no longer do anything, except stare into her husbands cold eyes as he raised the sword for a killing blow,
"All my life men have always coveted me, given everything they had just so I could be with me. But I never knew whether they truly loved, whether it was just my aura, whether I was just a trophy. I never had that doubt with you, there was something about you, and even when I did the worst thing to hurt, you never left, you was always there."

.............."whatever mistakes you make I will always be by your side"................

Looking down into Lesa's eyes something sparked in Milosh's mind, stopping his hand. Her green eyes looked like shining gems, the paleness of her skin almost glowing in the moonlight. He had seen this before a long long time ago, a time when she had lain there, defenceless in her sleep. He had watched her and he had felt..........

.............."Yet he knew he could not, even now she was slowly stirring and Milosh knew that whatever he did from now on she would be his life. He would adore her, care for her, love her, and he would never let any harm come to her."............

"It can't be......." he said, staggering away from Lesa as his skull felt as if it would rip apart, "what has happened, why can I see these things, feel these things....."

"Because they are who you are," Lesa said, "because whatever they did to you, you are still the man who loved me, married me, cared for me and when there was no other choice you did the only thing you could do to save me. You gave me up. You gave up this whole world. You gave Nagash back his claw and damned everything on this wretched planet for me."

His head pressed against the ground Milosh screamed, nails digging bloody trenches in his head. Seconds passed before his fingers finally relaxed and slowly Milosh looked up. For a second Lesa was hesitant, unsure of who was looking up but in a heartbeat she knew.

Running towards him she wrapped her arms round her husband like she would never let him go. She felt his strong arms hold her back, crushing their bodies together. After a moment she felt him was shaking and she realised he was sobbing.

"I knew you would be able to do it," she whispered in his ear, "I knew-"
"No." Slowly Milosh pulled himself back until he was looking at the beautiful face of his wife, "I can still feel him, tugging at my mind. He....." A wordless cry escaped his lips as he arched back in pain, eyes flickered with eerie light as V'azrin's spell fought back.
"The spell is too strong," he gasped, "I can't fight it for much longer."
"You can," Lesa urged, desperation taking over her voice, "we can, together. I-"
"Listen!" Milosh said forcefully, pulling Lesa close, "please. I have done everything I can, now it is upto you. You must make sure the Council succeeds. I have seen what awaits us in Nagash's world and you cannot allow it to come to pass. You must fight, and to fight you must live on. You cannot allow the Innocence to survive."

Lesa stared at Milosh is growing horror as the realisation of his words dawned on her,
"NO! Never! I cannot, I will not!"
"You must, it is the only way. I don't know how much longer I can hold back the spell," Milosh said, agony in his voice.
"No," Lesa said, pleading, "you gave everything including your freedom and mind for me. I will not do it, if anyone has to die then it will be me."
"And then?" Milosh questioned, "there is no one left with the power to challenge V'azrin. No one left who can bind the Innocence. No one strong enough to try and hold back the Dark Lord's magical might. This world needs you my love. I made my decisions and if they have lead me to death then so be it."
"No, you don't understand......" Lesa said, turning her head away as if in shame, "I.......you wouldn't be here if it wasn't for. The Council.....everything......there was another reason why I cheated on you......" She felt a hand gently brush her hair away from her eyes, before almost tentatively turning her head to look at her husband.
"None of that matters now. Everything that has happened, if I had the choice I would do it all again if it was the only way to spend the time with you once more. I love you so much and if you love me you will not let me become that mons-"

Suddenly Milosh's words were cut off as a powerful convulsion ripped through his body.
"No!!" V'azrin's voice hissed in his head, "you will not escape me! My power is absolute! You will do as I command!!" Coldness ate away at Milosh's inside as he felt a surge of pure dark magic drowned his mind, V'azrin's will forcing itself into his mind.

"Now do as I command" the Necrarch commanded.
"No..."
"NO?!! You do not have a say in the matter" the terrible voice spat as Milosh's thoughts were slowly destroyed, "you are mine. A puppet, nothing more."
"Please......"
"Ah so the proud King's Childe finally begs. I have waited long to see your line humbled, and now you will do the same to the Lahmian slut. Do you understand?
"I......."
You will kill her. Now"
"Kill?....."
"KILL HER NOW!!"
"Kill her....."

The punch lifted Lesa off her feet, sending her sprawling to the ground with blood gushing from her mouth. Like a broken marionette Milosh stood up, movements jerky has the last vestiges of his mind tried to fight back. The Banishment Blade was grasped in his hand and it swung clumsily at the Lahmian who rolled quickly out of its way. If he hit her cleanly with it she knew she would die, and instinctively she lashed out with her own sword, trying to disarm him. The attempt failed miserably as Milosh moved to counter, though the razor sharp edge sliced deep enough into his arm to draw blackish blood. The return from Milosh was strong enough to rip the Master Sword from Lesa's hand and send it spiralling down the hill.

Unarmed, weeping and heartbroken she stood there as the puppet that was her husband advanced on her,
"Please......you can fight it. I know you can." Milosh's eyes flickered for a moment though his body never stopped,
"I can't," he whispered, "I am sor........"

The moonlight shone off the raised edge of the Blade of Banishment as it swung down for the final time, a scream that told of suffering and pain echoing across the valley.

 

[Disciple of Nagash]

Slowly but surely the rot spread, blackness pushing back the paleness of skin as the magic took its deadly course. Already the the skin began to flake, tiny particles being plucked away in the night breeze. There was nothing that could be done to stop the process, nothing that could stop the final death from approaching.

Milosh looked into Lesa's eyes for the last time, unbloodied sword held in his hand, and a sad smile lit his face as his sword dropped from his slowly numbing hands. Around his wrists Lesa's hands grasped him tight, her gauntlets glowing white hot from the power that had been focused through them.

"Thank you," he whispered, the magic coursing through his body banishing V'azrin's spell even as it ate away at him, "for destroying the monster they had made me in to." As his muscles atrophied he fell to his knees, Lesa following down as she tried to support his weight. Putting her arm round his head she gently pushed his hair from his face, only to have it disintegrate at her touch. The magic was working fast, eating away at his body, already climbing up his throat to his handsome face.

"I didn't want to, but-"

"I know," Milosh soothed lifting his hand to his wife's face. Instead of feeling his firm touch she felt a cloud of softness which rained down in her lap, his hand crumbling, "it's what I wanted. Rather I die free, at the hands of one I love, than live controlled, knowing that I killed you."

"What will I do without you?" Lesa wept, the last remnants of her heart dying as her husband slowly died before her very eyes, "you made me happy, content........complete. I don't know what to do."

"Just remember me," Milosh simply replied, "remember us, our times, why we did this, why I did this. I gave myself to Nagash so you would live on, so you would be able to fight. For me, live, fight, and rid this world of that bastard." He coughed suddenly, plumes of ash flying for from his mouth. When he tried to speak for a moment Lesa could hear nothing, but as she drew closer she heard his whispered voice.

"Don't ever forget that you will never be alone my love. Some things do not end with death and we are one of them. When the time is right, when you are ready, I will be waiting for you. However long it takes I will always be waiting for you.........................."

As his voice died away Lesa pulled back but there was nothing left of the man she loved. The many years finally took their toll and his body broke apart in grey chunks that burst even as they hit the ground. It was still not enough for the magic that burned in them, sparking as it reduced what was left into particles so small they could barely be seen. As the breeze howled its fury at the night sky the remains were swept up into the darkness leaving only Lesa, alone.

So passed Milosh Cromwell, Wraithlord, Dreadlord of Nagash, for the final time.

********************************************************

Across the valley the von Carsteins stumbled as the control on their minds snapped. Many stood looking round in shock, unsure what was happening.

Suddenly the ground trembled, cracks ripped the earth apart. Overhead an ominous rumbled sounded as storm clouds gathered, dark and ugly they rolled round the night sky before with a crack of lightening the heavens opened. The rain was torrential, powerful enough to hammer some of the weaker dead into a pile of bones once more. Lightening struck again and again as the wind whipped the storm into a tempest like no other.

Sat in with her eyes shut tight Lesa clasped her hand, the dust held in it the last thing she had of her husband. Her head swam, emotions bouncing back and force, voices screaming in her head. One grew stronger and stronger before suddenly it was the only one left.

"V'azrin is going to pay......."

Her eyes snapped open, raw power radiating out. Slowly she rose, the gauntlets Zaak had forged melting off her wrists as they overloaded.

"V'azrin is going to die......."