We Are The Legends

[GnomesAteMyCake]

"Looks like you've been havin' fun, Elf," Kylar said shortly as she watched Clyvaan march down the alley below her. He was covered in demon blood (she could smell the strench from the roof she was standing on), with the head of a demon held loosely in his hand. That, and she'd walked past the massacre that he'd left behind. It disturbed her slightly, not the bodies of the demons, but in the violent way that they'd been killed. She made a mental note not to tease and annoy Clyvaan as much. As fun as it was, she didn't want to end her life like that. She'd done too much to insure her survival to waste it all because of misplaced words.

But...it was fun.

"I always thought that 'Blood-bath' was a stupid expression, but looks like you took it to heart, eh Elf?" she said, sitting down on the edge of the roof, letting one leg dangle whilst she pulled the other up so she could rest her chin on her knee. "All you'd need are some towels, candles and bath-house maidens, and you'd've been in business."

She looked at the head in Clyvaans hand with disengaged interest. "A horned demon....that makes another sub-species," she said quietly to herself, jumping down from the roof and taking the head from Clyvaans hand. She turned it, trying to deside what type of demon it was. Her tongue darted out as she lapped up a tiny amount of blood from one of the horns, before grimancing. "There's too much different blood on that thing... I can't tell." She shoved the head back into Clyvaans hand. "You can have it back now."

She turned and walked slowly away from the Elf, her hands clasped behind her back, her ears twitching. She wasn't stupid enough to leave her back open completely to the Elf; after seeing what he could do when he was angry enough, as much as it wounded her pride (and ego), she knew she wouldn't stand a chance against him in that state. So, she trained her ears on him, listening for the slightest sound that would tell her that he was lunging for her. Taking a deep breath, she stopped walking.

"Look, Elf. I know you hate me; hell, I'm not too fond of you either. But... I need to ask you somethin'. Have you seen.... Have you seen-- Damn, this is hard," she muttered to herself. She hated asking for help at the best of times, but asking it from Clyvaan was like pulling her own claws out. She turned to face him.
"Have you seen any demons that look like me?" she blurted out, crossing her arms across her chest and looking away from him, feeling vulnerable. Asking for help from anyone was one of her big no-noes.

"Why ask, Kylar? Why not just turn around and see for yourself?" came a soft voice. Kylar jolted, and twisted, her eyes searching for the voice. "Up here....sister."

"Donn..." Kylar whispered, her eyes finally finding what she was looking for. Above them, standing on the roof that Kylar was just moments before, stood a Hare Demon. His ears were longer than hers, and jet black. His iris's were blood-red, and his claws were double the length of hers as well. His body was long and thin, like a runners, and his face was very angular, much like Kylars.

Kylars upturned expressionless face suddenly darkened, fury clear on her features. "Donn, why are you here?! You're supposed to be dead!"
"Clearly I am not, little sister," Donn said, crossing his arms and leaning against a chimmey, watching the half-demon below with an amused look on his face. "Oh sister, what has become of you so that you feel you must associate with this Elf? What company you keep, Kylar."
Growling, Kylar balled her hands into fists, staring up at her brother. "You would know what I've been through, Donn! If I remember, you're the one who wouldn't allow me into the clan 20 years ago! I had No-one, Donn, and you turned me out like a flea-bitten stray! So don't you come here and look down at me when it's your fault I'm here!" She shouted, her body trembling as she felt her demon-blood begin to pound. Her emotions were running high enough without her traitorous brother being there as well.

She turned and saw Clyvaan out of the corner of her eye, looking disgusted (surprise surprise. Did he look anything else when she was around?).
"Clyvaan, go. Go help Adwell, you know who useless he is. Leave this disgrace to me, I'll handle him." Clyvaan didn't move. "What're you waitin' for?! An invitation? GO!" She shouted, bending her knees and leaping up to Donn.

"You left me to fend for myself 20 years ago, I get the message, you don't want a half-breed in your perfect life. Fine, I don't need ya, I've been doin' fine on my own," Kylar spat out, slowly circling her brother as he began to do the same. "So why are you here now? Who else is here from the family? Thanks to you, I won't know their names, but maybe your head'll be a good enough introduction!"
With a yell, Kylar jumped at her brother, sinking a fist into his stomach whilst trying to get a handful of his corse black hair. The punch cause him to recoil the smallest amount, but his other hand grasped Kylars wrist. He wasn't as fast as the snake-demon she'd fought before, but he was a lot stronger, with century's more experience.
With Kylars wrist in his hand, he began to squeeze. Kylar squealed, the squeal trailing into a scream as she felt the delicate bones in her wrist snap. Her knees gave out as the pain claimed her, and she knelt before her brother, her arm in the air as Donn still held it. He was looking down at Kylar with the same amount of disgust as Clyvaan did. He would never admit to it, but Clyvaan had a lot in common with this demon. They both hated her, for instance.

Still holding her wrist high, Donn knelt down beside her. "You want to know why we are here, Sister? Because Torik can offer us so much more than your pathetic leader. Oh yes, we know that you've sided with the Dwarf warrior. Our family is not happy with you, Kylar-"
"What family?" she spat, her hair sticking to her slightly sweaty/bloody forehead. "You deserted me. You're no family of mine- Argh!" she squeaked as Donn squeezed her wrist tightly, before relaxing.

"Now now, sister, we mustn't interupt," he purred, a smirk on his face so smug it made Kylar want to gorge his eyes out. "We were going to come looking for you after we joined Torik. He would have a use for a half-breed like yourself. But what do we find? Our dear sister has betrayed us, and aligned herself with the likes of Dwarves, Humans and those Elves....it sickens me, Sister, that you feel you must degrade yourself even lower..."

The rest of his sentance was cut off as Kylar planted her other fist underneath his chin, rocking his head back. Coughing blood in her face, Donn narrowed his eyes in fury.
"Why you-"
Kylar kicked up off the ground and kicked her brother in the face with all the strength she could muster. She felt his nose smash under her heel, and as it did, he released her wrist. She bounced away, turning hand-planting the floor as she span.
"Tit for Tat, brother," she said venomously. "Sorry to ruin your 'dashing good looks,'" she said sarcastically, quoting the air with her good hand, "But who knows? My wrist may never be the same again," she looked at it; the bruising looked strong, but in an hour, the bruising would be gone, and her wrist would be repaired by morning. "Demon healing. One of my favourites that daddy left me. Now, if you wanna get away with just a broken nose, then stay out of my site whilst I'm here, Donn. I let you live by accident once...I don't plan to make that mistake again," she said quietly, looking over her shoulder at the Demon, who's nose resembled a tomato and was oozing blood down his lip. She turned and hopped off the roof, and as soon as her feet touched the ground, she ran.

[Vale]

Clyvaan smirked a bit as Kylar told him to escape the demon.
"As if you could hold your own against a full fledged demon. Child it's degrading." He spoke, as he kept Ashbringer on his shoulder and continued to walk (note, not run) back to where he remembered Adwell last, or at least the direction.

As much as Kylar and her monstrosity of a race upsetted the Elf Hierarch, he respected her decision-to be devout to her convictions regardless of odds. Perhaps if someone cut out her tongue she'd be a fine Retribution Paladin, couldn't enchant but a powerful one at that. However that would come after the fall of Torik, and after his ascension to High Paladin Champion. In time, in time.

Upon moving through alleyways, he caught a familiar scent in the air...
Adwell....and...perfume?

Gazing into a window, he smiled (then quickly vomitted) about what he saw.


Bath Maidens...

[Vale]

(so tired at work, I'll post a better one when I wake up)

[TragicAce]

“Oh hey Clyvaan, jus-nine hells what is that smell?!” Adwell had approached the elf after he had made good his daring escape (which was really only a jump from a second-story window). That rancid smell the mechanist discovered was one of blood and guts, and the source of it was quite clear. “If you’re the type to bathe in blood and feces I won’t judge you-but I think your time could be better spent.” He waved his hand as to clear out the fumes. “Try bringing out as many guards from the fort as you can, would you?” Currently out in the open Adwell hadn’t the time nor desire to listen to whatever ‘witty’ retort the elf had prepared. The only pub in the town of Knot was packed to say the least. Such was only sensible, mused the sneaking alley-rogue. An over-occupied town, middle of the night, only pub around: reason dictated it was standing room only in there. The light and noise could be heard from many lengths away.

Callister took a moment to pity the fate of the gnomes in Knot. Having to put up with such unwanted and uninvited guests, living in fear of new self-appointed masters…who’s to say the Grobnars were worth more than them? Why should they be freed from this prison while others suffer at the hands of these soldiers? Who makes that kind of call? Dorik? Adwell shook those thoughts from his head and tried to return to the matter at hand. Jasper hadn’t lied-the cellar was behind the ale house after all. Like everything else however, nothing was ever easy. Two soldiers-both heavily intoxicated-were in heated argument. Listening in a little longer Callister uncovered the situation: soldier A was sent to guard the entrance to the cellar while soldier B is trying to convince soldier A to let him get some drinks for his pals. Both thoroughly hammered it was rather humorous to see them go about-soldier B’s reasoning especially.

“Ah know cooomm on oar ar ye scared?!”

“I says tha’I ait uufraid. Dust follwin Aanduric*hic* orders.”

No foreseeable end of their banter in sight Adwell took matters into his own hands. Checking twice to make sure no other (more sober) guards were present, he approached the two. “Hey-ah! Who goes thar!” Soldier A proceeded to reach for his sword, upon his sword attempt was able to unsheathe it.

“I’ve been sent to relieve you of your post, good sir. Under Anduric’s direct orders. Now go to the pub and enjoy yourself.” Before being a Legend he was a businessman, and knew the power of telling people what they wanted to hear. Soldier A had quickly nodded and fled the scene haphazardly. Now all he had to deal with was-

“Hey. Dun-a-tell meh you-oar scared too. Let me intah the cellar!” A clenched fist was raised at Adwell’s…general direction. Thinking over the courses of action he might take, he decided upon the simplest. “Alright.” The cellar doors opened up to a long set of stairs dimly lit by torches along its walls. Soldier B was giddy with excitement, poor thing. He made quite a stumble down the stairs with a help of a solid kick from behind. Giving out a sigh Adwell closed the doors after him. His drunken friend unconscious the Legend made a quick scan of the room. Giant barrels upon barrels of all sorts of alcohol lined the walls, and dozens upon dozens of wines hang on the stalls towards the center. While he wasn’t a thief Adwell thought it might be handy to see what the soldier had on him (and gain a few coins in the deal). He took a strange metallic ‘X’ from the soldiers right pocket; it was peculiar enough for him to take it for himself. Perhaps he could investigate its properties after all this was finished.

You wouldn’t have noticed it if you weren’t looking for it, but one of the lids on the barrels was of an older wood then the others. Knocking revealed the insides hollow. Carefully opening the lid Adwell looked down a passage both dark and narrow. How long it stretched for he did not know. With great difficulty he managed to put the lid back on and slowly crawled his way forward. The stone walls were exceedingly cool to the touch, and all these blasted cobwebs made it evident that this passage was rarely used. Shaking all doubts from his mind he finally entered what appeared to be a tool closet of some sort. Jasper had said the tunnel led to the prison ward, Callister had a feeling that many a privileged prisoner made their escape through that exit. He was like a mouse as he silently opened doors, peeking past corners and snuck about. Empty prison cells were all around him, all locked and unused. It was too odd. No noise was present, save-

-a light humming sound. It was coming from…this direction. Sneaking a peek from out the door showed a large room that was for the most part barren. It seemed out-of-place and gave Adwell a bad feeling. The humming seemed to echo off the walls, kept for the most part in shadow save for a flickering light in the center. Moving as silently as he could he finally spotted his target. Two little bearded gnomes were tied against each other with rope, in a small iron cage. Its warden was a single man, slouched over in his chair as he hummed a somber tune. Something inside Adwell knew this was no ordinary man, and it took all the courage he had inside him not to go mad and flee. But he was mad nonetheless to be doing such a thing. A small and cursed rock almost made the mechanist trip, stopping the humming at once. The man arose unnaturally fast, and seemed as if he was floating on air.

“Who dares challenge me?! I am Andruic, Mage-General of Torik’s Grand Forces, called the Unquenchable Flame!” True to his name a circle of fire enveloped the room, making everything quite visible. Adwell almost shrieked in fear as the crate he was hiding behind bursted into flames.

“WHO ARE YOU!?”

Visibly shivering the legend could only make out two words: “totally screwed.”

[Tusk]

The two gnomes woke with a start at the sound of Andruic and one of the gnomes spoke calmly.
" It is I, Grobnar of the Gnomes, Glad to meet you oh powerful angry one. "
The other gnome bursted into laughter. Andruic turned to the two gnomes and fire formed in his hands.
" Do you thing this is funny? You two are going to be exicuted in the morning! That is right, Torik had found your little invention to stop him from destroying cities in the the gnome captial and he is not happy! Once we figure out how to destroy it, He will show you just how powerful he really is by obliterating you and everyone in this city after we leave! "
He shouted with his hand growing hotter at each second.
" My My, the great Dread Knight army can not figure out how to remove the shield! Well brother that is quite sad. I wonder, will we sizzle or burn from the blast. "
" I do not know Grobnar, I think we might pop. "
They both began laughing and Andruic almost lost his temper.

" SIR! Two Paladins are causing havok in the city and the demons are not helping. The squad is prepairing for the Legends. They think the Legends found out about our coup de grace when they attack the Gnome Capital! "
A paniced knight said.
" I know of one paladin and his location. He just killed several of my men near the destroyed catapults. There are rumors of another one to the north! "
" Blast it all! If the Legends are coming then we are going to get overrun! Get two dozen of your men and find the one in the north! I will take out the one near the catapults. You are lucky Grobnars, I would have killed you now! "
The mage himself erupted in fire and disappeared.

Veros stood over the Dread Knights with a calm breath forming. Tor had given him a strength unlike anything he ever felt before. Soon he picked up an aura. As he turned to look, he managed to throw up his sheild to block a powerful blast of Fire. Veros was pushed back and he heard a voice.
" So you have been the one causing all this trouble. "

Several Knights soon located Clyvaan. A few took the time to position themselves of a rooftop with crossbows at the ready.
" Paladin, drop your sword and surrender or you will- die! "

The grobnars began laughing wildly and one spoke.
" I smell perfume. Adwell is that you who I saw sneaking in? "

[Vale Drunken Adept]

Clyvaan stepped out of the bath house, Ashbringer over his shoulder, as he was freshly cleansed of the Bodily Entrails of the Demons he massacred, and in it's place was a woman's touch, scent, and a bustle in his footstep.

"Drop my sword? You act as if I need it to kill you all. Which my friends is a great, misunderstanding." Clyvaan spoke, as he sheathed the blade on his back, his Aura went back to the same as his Bloodfury Aura. Beginning to shift the Pressure around him to focus on himself.

"Why, 20 Death Knights....this almost seems like you're worried about little old me." Clyvaan smiled, his elvish eyes glowing an off crimson, leaking out pure Ethreal Energy from the orifices. "You should have brought 30 more." He smiled, as he unleashed the first bit of stored Mana around him, blasting the area with pure unhindered magic---raw, pure, beautiful.

When the quick tempest subsided, the Blast had only managed to get rid of a few Dread Knights, but still, about 15 still stood, and many of them with ranged weapons.

Yet No Arrow Volley.

"Are you scared? As I told you...You should have Brought More..." Clyvaan was smiling, his beserker rage building yet again.

[GnomesAteMyCake]

Kylar skidded around a corner, and pressed herself flat against a wall, her chest heaving up and down as she took in deep breaths of air. Donn...Donn, her brother was here! He shouldn't be here! It wasn't right!
She looked down at her wrist, gritting her teeth. Just as she guessed, the furious bruise that her brother had caused was now in the black stage, but would be green in less than 15 minutes, then fade to yellow, and all she would have left were the fractured bones. She looked around, and saw a fallen soldier, his clothes soaked in blood and mud. She walked towards him, and took the pike that was in his stiff hands. With a cry, she smashed it against a wall, splintering the wood. She knelt near the body, and tore a strip of material from his tunic, and proceeded to bind her wrist, grinding her teeth as sweat stood out on her forehead. Damn him. Damn him straight t'hell! she thought angrily as she straightened up and bushed the grime off her knees. What are the chances he's here, in this town, the same goddamn time as I am?! It makes no sense! I guess I better find Veros, Clyvaan and Adwell before they get us all killed. Kylar nimbly climbed up the building she was lent against, and stood on the brick chimney, her ears swivelling around as she looked for any signs of disturbances which was bound to be the idiots she was working with. There was a painful twinge in her head, like a nail had been drived into her skull. She looked towards where the pain came from, and saw a large wave of magic to the south. "Clyvaan, you idiot..." she muttered as she leapt from rooptop to rooftop, heading towards the paladin.

He couldn't believe it. The half-breed had bested him again. It had happened once before, when they were younger, but he'd vowed to himself never again. She'd left him for dead, but still he lived. He'd gone to Torik for strength, and he'd welcomed Donn's clan with open arms. For the last ften years the clan had grown stronger, wider. But still he continued to be bested. But no more!
Donn turned his back on the city of Knot, blood running down over his lips and chin, his nose now crooked (which it would set as in a few hours), his one ear with the top ripped clean off 20 years previous in a fight with the same half-breed that had sauntered away with such attitude... and headed towards the north, where Torik waited, as well as his family.
Standing on the north-gateway, he looked over his shoulder, eyes narrowed, a grim smile on his face.
"We'll meet again, dear sister. And when we do, I will come off the victor."
He hopped down and dissapeared into the night.

[Vale]

It was never a perfect art--as it was never a perfect plan. One must always be fluid and turbulent. Ever changing, ever shifting. The fatal flaw in every plan, is assuming you know more than your enemy. Everything can be shifted, everything can be passed along. Clyvaan knew this. He knew all too well about the Elvish Ways. These Death-Knights were mere mortals, and their ideals weak. Clyvaan was Vengeance, he was all that retribution embodied. And above that, he was all that was destruction. Pure and unhindered destruction.

Yet still he was standing, and the archers still did not fire.

"Your Blade is Famous----Clyvaan Ajani of Whisperwind." A deep voice beckoned from off behind one of the archers, as an Elf of the same size stepped out and leaped off of a rooftop to stand many paces away from him.
"Your tongue is as vile as the stench of your men." Clyvaan spat back. "Do me the honor, and let me rip it from your lifeless skull."
"Such rage--look at what's become of you. You used to be a proud leader of Whisperwind. And yet here you stand opposing the very Being which you offered the city to. It is because of you, Clyvaan that we lost Whisperwind." the Elf spoke.
"I offered the City to Torik. Years before the last stand. If the Council wasn't so nearsighted, The Lost Capital wouldn't have been lost. It wouldn't have fallen to the Reanimated Mage."
"You do not speak his name? Funny..." The Elf spoke, "Do you even remember mine?"
"Akthos, the Betrayer. Your title proceeds you." Clyvaan spoke snidely.
"Your title has shifted too many times to remember. I do recall your Bloodline Title of Nethermancer of Whisperwind, second only to Him. What did you ever do with your prowess? Abandoned it for a Cursed Sword, and a new name?" Akthos spat.
"Silence Worm! I shall show you the power of Vengeance! I shall wipe you from the face of this plane with my power! You pathetic insect, you failed at Nethermancy and you failed Protecting the City. For this


---I will kill you."

[Tusk]

Veros stood glowing with the power of Tor. His eyes locked on to the man who threw the fireball at him. He was covered in black robes that seemed tattered and decaying. His hands were once flesh, but now they were nothing more than a dried up husk. Veros could not see the man's face. It was covered by the hood of a century old cloak.
" I see my master was right in sending me here. He felt a very small disturbance and now I see what it was. Your Aura was growing stronger by the second, Paladin. I am impressed you are able to control it better than the elven who is sending off sparks left and right. "
Red orbs appeared from under the hood and Veros was suddenly frozen. It was as if life was leaving him. He tried to move, but he couldn't as an icy cold laughter emerged from the figure.
" You are still weak paladin. However you are strong enough for Torik to harvest your soul and end your pathetic rebellion. Die paladin! "
A blast of fire emerged from the figure and Veros just managed to jump out the way. Veros got up to his feet quickly with his form still glowing.
" I will not die here Lich. You will not hold me by fear today. "
Veros said calmly as he drew a steady breath.
The lich began to chuckle. It was enough to make the hairs on Veros' neck to stand on end.
" How ammusing. You are stronger than I thought. I might actually enjoy ripping your soul from your body, "
He sent a black fireball at Veros who not only dodged, but manuvered enough to flank the Lich. He then turned and shouted with all of his might.
" DIVINE CUT! "
Light erupted in the circle. Several guards who came running to the paladin where blinded and even burned. Andruic came to the scene with fear in his eyes. Who was this warrior? When the light cleared, Veros looked to see his sword blade in the hand of the lich. Most of his clothes were senged, but he himself was unharmed except for the scorched hand holding the blade.
" You continue to suprise me. "
He said calmly as Veros looked on in suprise.

Veros had been weakened by the attack. He threw everything he had into that swing. The glow from his form was gone and he tried to get his sword of the Lich's hand.
" You have earned enough respect to know my name Paladin. I am Regilion, Torik's right hand and the true form of death itself. You have fought well Paladin, but now, you die. "
Regilion let go of the sword broke through the Paladin's armor with his other hand. Veros looked frozen in pain watching the blood pour out of the new whole in his body. Veros finally let out a cry of pain as Regilion removed his hand and sent it diagonally across Veros' body. Veros fell as his armor laid shattered exposing a cut and bloody torso. Pain was gone as he felt his heart getting slower and slower.
Do not give up Noble Paladin. You will survive to fight again. Tor is with you.
" T-T-Tor? "
He sputtered as he slowly tried to get up.

" Andruic, come here. "
Regilion said with his back to the Paladin. Andruic came toward him with fear trying to escape from his eyes.
" Yes sir? "
He said in a frantic tone.
Regilion placed a hand on Andruic and shot black lightning through Andruic's body. Andruic fell lifeless as Regilion's hand began to heal quickly and his clothes became anew.
" That is all you pathetic commander. Torik was unhappy with your failed attempts to get the information out of the Grobna- "
He turned suddenly to see a near death paladin on one knee holding his sword.
" I refuse to let you continue this destruction to this village. Tell your master that The Legends will not die! "
He rose to his feet in a last ditch effort for a charge. He fell a few feet from Regilion. The cloaked figure said nothing as Veros tried to crawl toward him. Regilion took Andruic's sword and went for the final blow. His swing hit a barrier and the sword shattered.
"Rest easy, young paladin. You will live to fight another day. "
Said a voice that came from an alleyway. A man with slightly pointed ears emerged with a light silver armor and a mace in his hand with a Tor sheild in the other. Regilion let out a sneer as the figure walked closer.
" Davean. You have returned. "
He said with a deep hatred rising in his voice.
Veros could only see a blurred image of a man sending off a beam of light before his eye lids closed and did not open.

[Vale]

Clyvaan took an arrow to the shoulder as some greedy Archer felt like opening fire, "A single arrow? Poisoned too? How wonderful. Such dirty and vile tactics..." His eyesight began fading a bit. "Perhaps not misguided." Akthos smiled, as Clyvaan stumbled around a bit.

Use My Fury Paladin. The Holy Light does not abandon those with the holiest of goals. We have a place for the Faithful, for those such as Veros. But you are not like he Clyvaan. You and he are two sides of the Light. A Comforting Flame is tended by the Burning Soul. Know this Clyvaan...and rise.

His eyes glowing a bit, Clyvaan held out Ashbringer and threw it directly at Akthos, impaling him into the wall as he let out a Roar that was more Feral than Elf, but it was Pure.

It wasn't Anger or Hatred, Nay, it was Punishment.

[GnomesAteMyCake]

"Shit, shit, shit!" Kylar muttered to herself as she roundhoused kicked a soldier, sending him flying into a window where his neck splintered against the concrete sill. Charging onward through the muddy streets, she followed the painful tickling of the holy energy, which was all over the place. As much as it pained her to be near something so opposite to her own nature, she followed it like a compass, hoping to come to one of the paladins that were in the city. It was strange how a simple mission could go so wrong in such a short amount of time; half of the city was destroyed, many laid dead, and she was unsure of whether the captives were released and even if the Legends were winning.

Skidding slightly, she rounded a corner and stopped in her tracks. Clyvaan was dishing out some rightful vengence to a pair of enemies; although it was now down to one, since it appeared that one was now dead. Casting her eyes around the area, her heart skipped as she saw Veros lying motionless on the ground with a terrifying creature stood before him cloaked in robes. It was staring to the side, where a glowing figure stood, the same symbol that was on Veros and Clyvaans armour on his; the insignia of Tor.

Kylar sprinted towards her fallen comrade, sliding to her knees beside him and rolling him to his back. She saw his wounds and winced; he was breathing, but barely, and for how long she couldn't say. He was close to death. "Damnit, Paladin, could you not give me a break where I don't have to save your ass every five minutes?" she muttered angrily as she slipped her arms around his knees and shoulders and lifted him. "Just...don't die. Dorik'll kill me, and I enjoy living. A lot."
Egnoring the stranger, she staggered down the alleyway she'd just come down, and propped Veros against the wall and placed her hand against his forehead, her ears swivelling. He was burning up, and he was losing a lot of blood. She quickly ran to a fallen soldier and ripped his tunic from him, and began binding Veros wounds, grumbling as she did so.
"Right. Now...stay here. And don't die, remember?" she said, a small trace of anxiety in her voice as she bolted back the way she came to Clyvaans side, her knees bent. "Looks like it's you and me, huh, Elf? Try not to kill me and let's waste that guy," she said shortly, gesturing over her shoulder at the one remaining enemy. "There's a guy watching us too, so keep an eye on him so we can kill him if we need to."

[Tusk]

Regilion side stepped a blast of the light energy coming from the cleric.
" So after 60 years, you are as strong as ever. I would stay and fight you cleric, however I have a job to do. "
THe lich simply vanished by a passing wind.
Davean watched as those who died were starting to stand again. He noticed that a black barrier surrounded him too. He was trapped in barrier of fel magic. He let out a sigh. This was going to be a long night. He looked at the undead and closed his eyes. A calm voice echoed.
" I will free you from your bonds of servitude to the lich. May Tor Guide your souls to their resting place. "

Veros laid on the corner, his body racked with pain. He regained concousness do to that man, but his body still seemed like it was on the verge of failing. He closed his eyes in prayer. He suddenly felt a warm sensation come over him. He was slowly feeling stronger. It was still not enough to fight, but he knew what was happening. A Paladin could recover from wounds faster than a normal fighter, due to a spell called the Healing Wind.

Infront of Clyvaan and Kylar, A black spot formed on the ground. The spot grew and grew until it was wide enough to cover half the road. Soon, the spot began to swirl. It turned into a vortex and the faster it swirled, the more the air felt like it was turning into ice. Suddenly spikes of energy began to emit from the vortex. The energy could stand the hairs on one's neck on end. Black lightning shot upward and soon, a figure began to rise. His tattered black cloak covered his features, but the aura was no diffrent than when Veros fought him.
Regilion soon emerged with his eyes shining pure red. His laughter only caused the air to get colder. An Aura of Death soon took over the area as he soon was fully out of the vortex. The black circle faded away, only leaving whatever alive thing it touched dead in it's wake.
" One went down rather easily. However you two are still causing a minor annoyance to Torik. I will give you a chance though. If you ammuse me, then I will let you watch the other one suffer and die before I rid the plane of you. So tell me elf, half breed, are you ready to die? "
He unleashed the same spell as he did on Veros. Clyvaan and Kylar would find themselves unable to move. Regilion was ready to strike. His laughter grew more.