Adrien

Adrien had entered the city center to see two powerful individuals facing off, one he recognized as the son of this provinces Duke. The other individual was wearing the mask he had grown accustomed to seeing. Nearby, he heard another fight between Elric and a spear user, but he couldn’t quite see them. Adrien was still invisible, and stalked toward the masked foe. When the robed man was properly distracted by the heir to the Weatherlight dukedom, who wielded a greatsword larger than even Elrics, Adrien lunged toward him.

His steps were still silent, and his hands formed the claws of the panther he had reached a covenant with. Swiftly, he made the difference of the thirty or so feet between him and his target. Claws extended he frowned as the man before him twisted in midair, despite currently being locked in a foray with the man in gleaming armor. He narrowly dodged the majority of the attack, taking claws to his bicep rather than having his heart or lungs ripped free from his body. In the same moment he dodged, he pulled the swordsman towards Adrien and forced the two to collide. Blood trailed Adriens claws and soaked the sleeve of his enemy.

The spell obscuring Adrien from view vanished as he was struck by the larger man. He grunted, backstepping as the metal adorning the man crashed into him. A man even larger than Elric and covered in glimmering plate maile, wielding a sword taller than Adrien himself. Grunting, Adrien backed away as the armored man did the same. He cursed, realizing that the panther covenant would be near useless now. Sure, the added agility and claws were nice in combat but its real draw was the ability to move silently and better sniff out enemies. But now, now that he needed to fight rather than assassinate, he needed something new.

Adrien felt his body shift as the inkblot that was the panther reformed. His claws rescinded and his soft soundless feet were covered again in his greaves and boots. He drew his blade and backed away from the masked figure, also making some distance from the Weatherlight boy.

“I can handle him! Go help the other one, he’s fighting a spear user a street over!” Weatherlight called out. Adrien glanced over at him then shook his head.

“Elric will be fine, this ones the stronger opponent. We’ll take him out then help my team.” Adrien shifted his grip on his sword. He pushed some mana into it and felt it sharpen, felt it grow more ferocious. It was as though the sword woke from a deep slumber and it purred with the energy. The voralien obsidian blade shimmered in the sunlight and glittered as it reflected it. Unlike most obsidians, this type was typically silver or gray until polished.

Before the armored man could reply, the masked man cackled. He raised his hands and the blood that flooded the streets began to rise up, twisting and solidifying into jagged spikes. The rushed toward the two swordsmen. Adrien couldn’t stop the grin from filling his face, he had practiced with a blood mage for close to two decades. He might not know all of their tricks but he was certainly well equipped to deal with them.

Adrien dodged the spears of whirling blood, careful not to let it touch him. The armored man simply let the spears of blood shatter against his armor, the magic shimmering as he marched through the air towards their foe. Adrien frowned, realizing that all of the viscera around them turned this into the perfect arena for their enemy, but he would not be disuaded from continuing the fight.

He weaved through the spears and rushed towards the man in the robes, growing near far quicker than the enemy anticipated. With eyes widened behind the mask, the man leapt back, a wall of coagulated crimson erupted blocking Adriens path. He pulled on the tattoo of a griffin, a beast that is both avian and apex beast, and felt inky black wings spring from his shoulderblades launching him over the wall of blood. Claws and talons sprang to being on his hands and feet, the talons gripping his longsword tightening as he lashed out. The tip of the blade barely reached the masked man, but still it pierced his arm and drew blood.

“Are there any reinforcements, Weatherlight?” Adrien called out to the other interrupter. The Dukes son simply nodded but provided no further details. Satisfied, Adrien continued his assault on the ritualist.

The Dukes son rejoined the foray and clashed against the blood mage, they seemed fairly evenly matched without Adriens interference. While he didn’t work well with the other warrior, they at least were not getting in each others way as the clash continued.

Elric

Elric panted with a bead of sweat dripping down his chin, embedding itself in his five o’clock shadow. Across from him stood a spearman wielding a dark black and purple spear. The same spear that had nearly taken out the Weatherlight boy a little bit ago. The spear wielder was the first one Elric had seen who did not wear the robes, but he still had a mask. At least Elric assumed they were a he. He wore armor that matched the weapon, made of plates of black metal with shimmering amethyst veins running throughout it.

He had yet to speak throughout the conflict, and neither Elric or his enemy had managed to land a blow on one another. Still, Elric leapt forth and swung his greatsword down on the man like a meteor. The spear raised swiftly, the heavy metal that composed it not impeding the masked spearman whatsoever. Greatsword clashed with haft of spear, reverberating through the street where they fought.

Elric growled, twisting and lashing out once more as the man attempted to take a few steps back. Elric wouldn't let him escape his range and lashed out again and again, each strike blocked or dodged by his enemy. Blade and spear flashed in the daylight. Mana rushed through Elrics arms, empowering his next strike. His classes were each based in physical combat, his skills enhancing his ability to fight with his greatsword.

GlimmerFang shimmered as a sword aura formed around its edges, going from a white and silver visage to one of erratic red. Heat flooded the surrounding area although Elric felt none of it. He rushed forward once more, his blade gleaming with his rage. A berserker through and through, he used his emotions to fight.

Not to be outdone, the spearman loosed his own aura, unsurprisingly composed of purple mana with black sparks flinging from it. A wall of pressure clashed with the heatwave and caused Elric to stumble, his eyes widening as the spear rushed towards him. He narrowly parried the weapon and attempted to counter, which the man easily dodged. Their weapons continued to clash, neither gaining ground, until Elric managed to redirect a slash and cut an inch deep in the mans leg, catching a weak spot in the plate armor.

A muffled curse rang out from the mans mask as he lurched back and stood still, panting, but Elric did not wish to allow him a chance to breathe and so rushed him. The greatsword whispered in the wind, practically screaming its exhilaration, and crashed against the haft of the spear once more. The weapons seemed of equal make, as they struggled against one another. To the enemies surprise, Elric dropped GlimmerFang and swung with a fist, adorned with the red of rage and mana, into the mans mask. A resounding crack reverberated off of the stone walls of the buildings lining the street.

Elric grasped the handle of GlimmerFang, the leather wrapping it sitting comfortably in his hand, as the spearman rose back to his feet. He wasn’t one to be defeated with a simple punch. Elric fought the urge to grin. He knew how horrendous these enemies were, how absolutely monstrous their actions were, but a part of him was thrilled to be able to fight someone so powerful. He stifled the urge to show his excitement and readied himself for the next clash

Amelia

The air was rancid. The smell of blood and bowels and viscera and more wafted through the once peaceful cities streets. Blood and signs of battle were everywhere. She certainly wasn’t helping the situation either.

She was a bit perturbed as she cut down another duo of cultists. They had been going through a home within which she could smell living people, she eliminated them before the cultists could locate the refugees. Amelia was still invisible, having not taken on a foe that was powerful enough to detect her. She was stuck cleaning up the peons, and healing the surviving citizens whenever she found one that was injured. She hadn’t, yet. Those that were hiding were surprisingly not overly injured, likely having hidden shortly after the cultists had taken the city.

Linden was a city she remembered passing through on the way to the last Rhoshas Crucible. It had been a pretty town, and they had decorated for the event with flowers and trees. Adventurers and their bestial companions had freely roamed the cities streets, shopping and chatting with merchants and friends alike. It had been boisterous, if not quaint compared to the larger cities deeper in the kingdom. Jorial was far from a powerhouse, but they had some massive cities within the mountains and nearer the coast.

Now, Linden was desolate. The signs of magic and war marred the streets as she flitted through them. No block was saved from it. A few buildings were free from the damage, but many more bore the evidence of the massacre that had occurred here. Amelia growled internally. Why would they do this. Why do people feel the need... she refocused as she saw movement on the street ahead of her. She slowed and approached the duo of cultists, manipulating the blood in the streets into thin, petal like, blades. Before they knew what hit them the petals flew forth and severed the arteries in their necks. The cutlists felt far too weak for the amount of experience she was gaining, but she wouldn’t complain overmuch. They still needed to be dealt with. As she passed their fallen bodies she formed constructs of blood, weaving a bouquet with their own gore.

She felt a rumble coming from the center of the city, not an uncommon occurrence. It was likely that the others in her group wouldn’t have noticed it, considering they were locked in far too intense of battles, but she knew they were also the cause. Elric, when he got serious, was not one she liked to fight near. Now that he was able to fight alone, she shuddered at the thought of being the one to face him. She could practically feel his excitement and his rage. It nearly overwhelmed her own, as she thought of the peace that had pervaded this city for decades.

She continued on, counting up the number she had felled as another duo went down. 72, she thought to herself. Far too many. She stalked the streets, slowly working her way inward, and found more prey. Half of them she fed on whenever her mana was somewhat low, but these trifling idiots were hardly worth the mana she was spending. No matter, reinforcements should arrive sooner than later. By the time they did she intended to be in a position to help either Adrien or Elric. In the meantime, she would continue to massacre the cultists who dared breach the peace in her kingdom. She would show them the wrath of the Crimson Keep.

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Liana

So far, Liana had yet to face anyone truly strong. She continued to scour the ritual circle for the last of the eleven foundation runes, although her invisibility had been broken long ago when she ran into a duo of cultists who somehow sensed her. A swift casting of [Reclamation of Arbor] had ended them, although she had had to get her hands a bit bloody by physically shoving an acorn down one of their throats. They were both saplings now, in the midst of an alleyway.

While Liana tended to focus on wizardry, she was still a druid in her heart of hearts. Thankfully it was her hobby of wizardry, and her time spent with Lios, that allowed her to find a way to shatter the ritual. She rushed around the area around the city center her eyes peeled for the rune she missed. It had to be somewhere near here.

The sounds of battle rang nearby, and she could hear the roar of Elric as his massive weapon battered against his opponent. She had passed them and took a moment to make sure he needed no help, but what she saw only made her shake her head. He was practically beaming as he and his enemy exchanged blows. Cuts had begun to take shape on his body, but the other one seemed to be far more labored. Blood dripped from their armor and they were primarily on the defensive.

Liana shook her head as she forced herself to focus on finding the last rune. Her eyes were strained from the overuse of [Mana Sight] but she couldn’t let herself stop just yet. Her feet plodded quietly as she stared near the ground, keeping her senses open to ensure nobody snuck up on her. Finally she spotted what she was looking for, a shimmering series of brush strokes, etched subtly into the cobbles.

As she knelt down to draw her own seven rune circle, the one connected to her remote activation sigil, she mused once again over how long the cultists must have been preparing. This was not a simple rune circle, and a part of her wondered at what sort of backlash they would experience when she ruined it.

Hopefully, the caster will suffer immensely. There was no reason for this wholesale slaughter. Normally, she tried to quell these darker thoughts. She was a follower of Ferune, a goddess of nature who often preached kindness and forgiveness. But there was another side of nature. The side that Liana found herself relying on far more often as of late.

Nature also came with it disaster, ruination, ruthlessness. Nature was a cycle of both life and death and neither. And so, without apologizing to her patron, Liana smiled with smug satisfaction as she imagined the way the casters of this ritual would suffer when it was broken.

She quickly, even with her distractions, finished the rune circle and spent a few moments verifying that it was all correct. Internally, she worried briefly that these runes would not be enough to undo the ritual, but she didn’t have time to consider the alternative. Either it worked, or it didn't. And if it didn’t their only true hope would be to defeat the enemies or to wait it out for reinforcements. She only hoped that, aside from the two strong ones she had seen thus far, there were no powerful enemies left in the city.

With that thought she raised her hand and placed it on her remote rune circle, pouring mana into it. There wasn’t an element to the mana she pushed into it, it did not contain her nature affinity, but it didn’t seem to matter. A huge shockwave emanated out from the rune beside her and she felt a pressure unlike anything she could imagine waft around her. Stumbling, she barely managed to stay standing as it seemed every window in the city shattered at once. Magic flooded the streets and pressed down on her.

Liana suppressed a smile, the ritual was broken.

Sky

Sky swiftly sped over the tops of the roofs to get a better view of Big Brother and the lady he was fighting. She felt a hint of worry that the woman would see her; Sky could tell just how strong the lady was. She smelled... She smelled like power and anger and arrogance. Sky had not yet smelled its like before, but the wind carried her scent to Sky.

She leapt over the top of one building onto the top of the big building Brother as fighting beside. The wind carried over a second scent, the smell of worry and fear and of determination. A smell she mostly recognized, Brother was always worried and always determined. Never afraid though. Thats why she and Luka knew they had to help him.

She hurried along, watching as Brother fought the woman. She felt the heat of flames brush against her as he fought, and she smelled the burning flesh of the womans puppets. All she could think to do so far was casting [One with the Wind] on Brother, helping him move swiftly and effortlessly.

She wiggled a bit on top of the roof as she observed, feeling for Luka. He had gotten stuck somewhere and would return soon, she could tell. Then they could really help Brother.

As she watched she felt the power of electrical mana pierce through the air. It set her fur to standing, and made her shudder in excitement. The ozone smelled like Brother Lios and she knew in that moment that he had finally called on his true mana. Not the flavorless stuff that often bled off of him. She watched carefully and saw the woman glance up at her as Brother prepared another spell. It was much more powerful than she remembered it being, and she was glad for it.

‘Luka, Sky, hold her down or trip her up if you can. Luka, rock spikes in her feet if possible!’ Brother Lios’s voice echoed in her mind and she steeled herself. The woman in that same moment burst into motion and assailed Brother. Sky felt for her spell, and made Lios [One with the Wind] more than ever before, pushing the spell to its limits as she poured wind mana into it.

The pull of the mana exiting her made her pant. With heavy breath she attempted to send a fragmented blade of wind down at the lady but it moved too slowly. Sky had to get closer to affect the fight. She jumped down from the building, her fur bristling, and caught herself with a pillow of wind before she was hurt on the stones below.

Now closer Sky released another blade of wind at the womans torso, knocking her back subtly. The blade wasn’t sharp, she knew she couldn't hurt this prey, but just the small resistance slowed her down enough to prevent her from harming Brother. She saw stones rise up in time to cause the woman to stumble but even with the interference she couldn’t see them winning. Brother Lios has a plan he can do this. We can do this. She still smelled fear from him, but that didn’t mean he would stop. There was fear against the big lizard too, and he won then.

She felt the energy in the air shift as Brother Lios finally activated his spell, and lightning shimmered over his shifting sword.The pretty blue and silver and green blade gleamed brightly, the lightning wreathing it. It crackled and sparks of blue, shiny and blinding, flew away from the edge. His blade clashed with the enemy as he simultaneously sped up, faster than she had seen him before. With the aid of her wind and his energy he was swift, not so much as she was but swift all the same.

But it wasn’t enough. Even with her and Luka, Brother would not be strong enough. She could tell that he was struggling, a smell of pain wafted through the air as she watched him dance and clash with the woman. Time was running out, she tried to think but her mind was not swift as the wind. It did not think as fast as she could run. She had to become faster, stronger. Braver. If she physically distracted her...

As she thought this, a wave of mana crashed though the street. The buildings all around them rumbled and cracks appeared in the road. Windows shattered with a screech and the lady stopped for a moment in surprise. In that moment Lios burst forward, eager to take advantage of her distraction. As he approached Sky’s eyes widened in fear and she burst into motion as well. Despite the distraction, the woman rushed toward him with the dagger in her hands pointed straight at his chest. She sent a burst of wind to nudge the arm out of the way, to force the attack to miss, but it felt far too slow. She wasn't going to make it.

Luka

Luka scurried through the sewers of Linden, trying to race back to Papa Lios. He had gotten stuck in that weird giant tube with the bodies, and had had to use almost half of his magic to return to the surface, find a new entry point, and reenter the sewers proper. Even with the scent of the underbelly of the city, the fox couldn’t shake the smell of that chamber he had been in before.

He neared his location just as Papa called ‘Luka, Sky, hold her down or trip her up if you can. Luka, rock spikes in her feet if possible!’. Luka sent his assent and pushed rocks up and beneath the ladies feet. One caught the bottom of her foot as she went to step down, nearing Papa.

While Luka couldn't see what was happening, necessarily, he was able to sense where everything was through his [Earth Sense]. He continued to push the rocks up but realized he was using a fair amount more mana sending his magic through the earth than he wanted. As he tried to trip up his Papa’s enemy, he slowly dug upwards, carving a hole in the walls of the stone sewer. He felt mana flood out of him relatively quickly as he cast [Burrow] and headed toward open air. As he pushed upwards he felt the expenditure of mana lessen with each stone he sent upwards with [Earth Manipulation].

Satisfied he was close enough, he stopped his ascent about a foot from the surface. He could sense much more as well. Papa and his enemy were fast, way faster than he was. Not as fast as Sky but fast still. More than that, he could feel how much energy Papa was outputting, how much mana he was using, and how seriously he was taking this fight. Luka stopped worrying about expending too much mana. He sent rods of stone sharpened into deadly spikes up through the air, up towards the masked woman. She dodged most of them. She kept charging Papa. Luka trembled as he thought to himself that he wasn’t able to help, that Papa was still in danger.

But then, the energy that Papa had been dumping into the world condensed and then exploded. Papa moved faster, and even a foot into the ground Luka’s fur bristled and stood on end. As Papa moved forward, meeting his foe in a head on clash, Luka peppered her with the foot long spikes. She dodged every one of them but was forced to take a step back. He sensed his sisters wind as it whipped toward the evil woman, but he didn’t smell any blood coming from her. Their attacks were worth little more than a distraction.

But still Luka would persevere. He sent up more rocks and stones. He attempted to place one directly in front of her to trip her up but she expertly sidestepped it. He tried to shoot a spike up into her downward moving foot. She dodged that one as well. He pushed his mana and tried to send one directly at her back as she was stepping backwards. He couldn’t hit her.

Frustrated, Luka kept trying. It felt like he had been at it for minutes, even hours, but only a couple of seconds had elapsed. He heard the rush of blood in his ears as he attacked her to the best of his abilities. Each one had been dodged and amounted to little more than a distraction for mere milliseconds. Panting, Luka finally came to another idea. He drew one the earth mana within him, the earth mana that he had somehow stolen from Papa. Papa didn’t mind, he knew this, and Luka still felt that he had helped Papa by taking it.

He drew on the mana, smelling faintly of mushrooms and nature. It was a lovely earthy smell that Luka associated with some of the other animals he tended to hunt. It clung to his fur most days, from his time spent beneath the soil. He called on it and felt it exit his pathways in the way that the pointy eared girl had shown him and his sister. He still wasn’t that fast at it, Liana wasn’t great at teaching the foxes due to differences in physiology, but he and his sister were figuring out how to manipulate their mana all the same.

He pulled on it as hard as he could, drawing the earth mana out of himself through his clawed paws and into the ground around him. He softened the earth, and softened the stone of the sewer beneath him. He willed the soil to collapse downward, pulling it into the tunnel of refuse. He tugged at it just as the lady stepped forward, unaware of the sinkhole he was bent on creating.

Her foot came down and he pulled on the earth, expending most of his remaining mana in a desperate attempt to hold her still. As her foot sank into the ground, the cobbles pulling toward him, a loud Thwoom sound reverberated in the tunnels. Mana of a type Luka was unfamiliar with cascaded outward from the center of the city. Even under ground Luka heard the shattering of windows and collapsing of some of the more damaged and ramshackle buildings. The earth shuddered and dirt rained down on him, forcing him to use his remaining mana to prevent his tunnel from collapsing. The woman stilled for a moment in shock. Papa didn’t slow for a second.