Twilight of an Age

[Aaron_Thom]

Orden was furious at first but decided to play along. He looked around and decided that it was enough.

“SILENCE!”

Everyone stopped yelling and arguing and looked at the Emperor.

“THAT IS QUIET ENOUGH OUT OF ALL OF YOU!”

With that he looked at Caroline and then smiled. He stood up and slowly walked to her. He looked her in the eyes chuckled.

“Well played, Daughter.”

He looked over his court and continued to smile.

“That being said, I was already going to aid the Rovers with whatever they needed. We need to unite if we’re to stop this evil. I’m glad to see that now the Necro Magi and the Empire are now united. Perhaps you can even teach my court mages a thing or two.”

He then leaned down and whispered in her ear.

“Just please don’t hurt them to much, I do need them. Even though most are over pompous twits.”

Orden chuckled again and stood straight up. Before he could say anything else his wife stepped up to Caroline and looked her over. Soon she smiled and hugged the Jill, stunning everyone including Caroline.

“Its about time my son got married. I hope you treat him right young lady. If you haven't consummate your marriage yet, once my son is better, you can use his chambers. Oh I wander what the children will look like! This is so exciting.”

Several of the court chuckled at the Jill’s shocked reaction to Orden’s wife talking about kids.

Orden just sighed.

‘What is with her and wanted a bunch of grandkids I’ll never understand. Heh, still, this should be interesting,’ thought the emperor.

Meanwhile at the Temple the priestesses were finishing up the healing spells. The High Priestess looked over Vailen one more time and nodded.

“The young prince will heal. Crystal’s, the Dragon’s and Necro Magi’s spells have helped. He should be better in the morning. Lets let him rest.”

Once the chamber was emptied a cloaked figure stepped out of the shadows. His red eye’s looked down at the prince as he slept.

“You better be prepared your highness. My ‘Masters’ machine should be done by now. Once the others go to sleep, the nightmares will begin. Let us see if your minds can survive them.”

Removing his hood the Fox/Armadillo looked at the prince one more time before finding a chair and sitting down. It would begin soon.
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[Katmir]

= Castle Aurora, the capital of Lunar, Wessera… The Royal Court=

Snappy was quite aware of her magical evolution at the paws of her daemon master HexPoint. She knew she was deadly, beautiful, and unique. Certainly Snappy should have more attention than the wolverine-jill’s clothes and false scents. The plant monster female pushed through the furries of the royal court, frowning at Caroline’s reaction to being touched by the wolf King.

Certain members of the court backed away from Snappy’s coiling vines, fluttering leafy wings and gnashing teeth. As she stomped closer to Caroline, she turned her small nose up at the guards standing by the wolf queen who hugged the jill. They were nothing compared to the Reavers that Phillip sent to her bloody maw. “Let Snappy embrace you now, you…”

A blue leathery wing suddenly obstructed Snappy’s view. She turned to see her powerful daemon master tower over her, shaking his antlers in a most disapproving manner. She felt bad that her master was not happy, though she hissed in Caroline’s direction, feeling threatened.

“Snappy… My petal, my flower, my twining pern… Heel.”, commanded HexPoint, pointing to the side where his Aordafian coral sword was sheathed. Snappy relented like an obedient war pet must. Looking up at the two feathers hanging from her master’s ear and the other feathers growing in his wings, Snappy whined. The blue daemon caribou raised a brow at his war pet’s behavior in public. Snappy held onto her master with both arms, four vines, and a bare leg.

“Snappy, I need to teach you new behaviors.”

“But Snappy will kill more than Godis for you! Snappy loves you more than Lu Xiong! Snappy is beautiful, and makes Master happier than… than…” Her words were interrupted by HexPoint’s hand gently brushing her furless face and snout. Snappy smiled, her flowers blooming.

“Yes, Snappy, you do make me happy. You’re a good girl.” He said, averting the attention of a few Wesserans, then turned his eyes back toward Caroline again.

Snappy seethed. “Master, why do you smile at that… that..?”

“Caroline’s reaction to being touched is amusing me at the moment.” Replied HexPoint.

The war pet held her master tighter, causing the hilt of his coral sword to press between her breasts. Her eyes glistened and her petals bloomed. “But… But I’m your Snappy for ever…”

All the blue daemon caribou could think is that he had no scripture to reference this moment. Thankfully, it was interrupted by a young fur, subtly making his nervous presence known. The short and fancily dressed wolf desired to stare at Snappy’s body but didn’t want to look at HexPoint in the eyes.

“What is it, young one?”

“S-sir… I am one of the royal heralds and I’ve been tasked to give you this letter bearing the royal seal. Whilst Prince Vailen recovers, you are cordially invited to a private supper at the banquet hall with our Majesty. Afterwards I will escort you to your chambers. My name is Darrian, and I am at your service.”

HexPoint looked over the Wesserans and noticed heralds approaching each of the Champions of the Twilight Age. Snappy was almost humping his leg. If she was in heat, it was embarrassing.

“Darrian, please show me to my chambers that I may prepare for audience with your rulers.”

*
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[Wolf Stride]

The insides of the castle were in complete turnmoil. Caroline had singlehandedly captivated, entranced and controlled the King with trinkets and prosse only heard in tails and myths; a true practioner of the Trade. The 'Game of Houses' wasn't just her domain and calling, but rather her natural trade. The Nobles around clammored their protests to deaf ears, the commoner and farm folk voice died out to the silence of the Royal Court of their King. The woman had taken them under her robe for the impending war effort and it's many casualties to come. There wasn't much to be said but to stare in shock and awe for he who was aware of her plan and for those who didn't, to remain in silence of anticipation and fear of what her mind could coin up to follow.

The fox who remained standing there with his battle scythe could only comprehend so much, if even that. He understood the actions and the things earned thanks to her, but underneath it all, he had no understanding of what was to happen in the long run. Even then, he only knew of her plot because she had briefed him in so. His own stupidity and ego in attempt to make her his willing accomplice ended in failure and his inability to show some restraint ended in his humiliation, more than once. To him, he was no longer a player on the chessboard, but a pawn to be discarded. Maybe a Pawn to ascend, but his mind reeled for worse thoughts. He hated her, no... he liked her. A pseudo hate and love relation. He had used strentgh and recklessness of the Daemon creed to reach this far, so he would use the same to get out. The scene was no longer about him and how he would forever cater for everything he wanted done or how he wanted it done. Now, he had to follow orders. The commander became to commanded.

And yet something within him compelled to follow orders. His willing mind wanted to follow in her footsteps, to fight for her. To die for her. Was this Caroline's doing? Were these his own thoughts? This form of thinking only brought more silence, even some desperation from the Daemon General. There wasn't anything he could do, no figure he could control through fear and brute force. All that was left for him, was to watch from the sidelines and wait like the diligent soldier he makes himself out to be. Politics weren't his forte, even his own.

Strauss' attention now switched to that of the Devas. What could their filth possibly want here? Weren't they at odds with the Lunar Empire thanks to prior encounters and situations? Their white wings stained in the heresy of their words, their traitorous mouths spilling poison more foul than that of any snake's. He could not stand them. If it was up to him, his forever thought was that to kill them. The number of Devas killed would rise on his behalf. It was bad enough that the Wolverine had ordered him to stand down, but there was another reason.

Agatha. A face seen countless times, a hand fought against uncountable times in combat, a moment never forgotten. The Grand and the Daemon General had a long History. A bloody one at that. If they were here, the situation had to be quite dire. He did not hold his hand for something as petty as political peace or for noble standing. He held it Caroline and for as rare and humorous as it sounded, respect for Grand. However that was a story to be spoken when the time required it. The Fox's vision slowly toned the colors of blue and shades of light sparks off as he stood alongside the Chieftain Dain. Not much else to do at the time.

"What is with the bird brains and the noble bitches here that bathe in perfume? It's bad enough we're working together for 'the greater good' as the religious spout in blabbering nonsense."
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[Caroline]

Her skin prickled with goose bumps. Amid the commotion and jubilation of the royal audience chamber, the only thing Caroline could focus on was the hug. The sensation was awkward to her. It had been so long since anyone had actually touched her, that the action felt… different. Caroline could think of no other way to describe it. It was like a girl squeezing her favorite toy doll... except this time Caroline was the doll. The stimulation reminded her of her mother. She couldn’t help but smirk a bit.

It had been a long time since she had been with her mother. Silently Caroline chided herself. It had been a long time since she had been with either of her parents. At last the Empress let go of her, and begin twittering on about grand children. Caroline paid the buzzing little mind. Her nose twitched as pollen drifted across it. The little wolverine chuckled, which made the Empress twitter even more about the number of children, and what their names would be, and related non-sense. Yet Caroline barely paid it any attention. She knew where the pollen came from. And it made her smile. A mocking, fang-filled, cold, malicious curving of her lips so trained that no one noticed the poison that seeped from it.

Caroline looked across the room at Snappy. Keeping her smile, she studied the Alraune, as it clamored over the caribou. “Only a few left,” she whispered to herself.

Excusing herself from the group, she made her way over to Snappy and HexPoint. She knew Snappy could sense her approaching. Plants had an ability to feel the style of magic that she studied. “Snappy, One wishes to have a word with you.”

Snappy entwined herself even more around HexPoint, grinding herself into him. Translucent sap seeped from her forming a damp, smear on his leg. “Snappy does not want to talk to you,” it hissed.

“Snappy, my pet, play nice and see what the scholar wants, then you can return to me.” Mildly scolded HexPoint.

Pouting, Snappy uncurled from HexPoint, letting herself linger on him as much as possible, while still obeying his command. Kissing her HexPoint whispered, “Let me know what she said to you, once you’re done. I have work to attend to.”

Her eyes trailed on HexPoint, as he walked away with the messenger. The blooms in her hair wilted a bit, a few petals fluttering quietly to the floor. Turning on her heel, she glowered at Caroline. Gnashing her pointy teeth, Snappy growled, “What do you want?”

Caroline smiled that smile… the one which made the plant’s very greenery wither and discolor. There was always something malicious about that smile. Something… unnatural, wicked, and not of the Divine order. Instead of attacking the wolverine-jill, Snappy stepped back. Caroline, with theatrical deliberation, kneeled to pick up a leaf that had fallen away from Snappy’s hair. While holding it with just the tips of her fingers, Caroline twirled the leaf along its stem. As a stage magician, Caroline wrapped her fingers and palmed the leaf. Like a showman, the necromagi reopened her hand. The green leaf was covered in black spots, and seemed unhealthily thick. White, fluffy, strands clustered on the leaf like cocoons. A waxy sheen had replaced its glossy glow. “It would be… unfortunate for such a… lush, botanical to age… or wither. Run along now, child. One is done playing with you.”

[Leaf]

Aurelius could only stand by and watch as Caroline spoke with Snappy. He didn't know what the jill was saying to the strange plant woman, but he could tell that it spooked Snappy very much. The rabbit Devas shifted uncomfortably from the stares of the court. His eyes were feeling rather heavy as he tried to stifle a yawn to hide his fatigue...
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[The Adept]

Agatha chuckled at the Queens antics towards the other Jill she could feel the glare of the daemon Strauss she never understood the animosity he had to her it was always sierra the grand shield who had faced him “ looks like he views you as my instrument my dear “ Agatha smiled to the blue fox who other than the aegis shied that all grand’s had to have their heirloom in formal audiences like this was in a white dress the shield hung on her side.
“the poor daemon has yet to defeat you in combat but you have yet to even let him get closer then this “she smiles as sierra gave Strauss a look as she sized him up just in case “its impressive how he lives after facing you and I in combat, Nicolai and Kyle have yet to face daemons since taking up their titles and weapons as grand’s. “ The blue fox looked towards the wolf “What is a dragon doing here now? “
Agatha stopped her “easy now sierra I know that dragon she means no harm to any of us she is a friend”

Around this time Caroline was talking privately with the strange plant creature “what are you planning? “ The Jill thought to herself as she watched the other in the room.

The King stood up and addressed the court “There seems to be many things to discuss among my family and advisors the grand hall is now closed for the day” the herald stood and finalized the announcement that the Grand hall was closing and all citizens were to return to their homes

Agatha looked at the king just like his father “ she smiled “ come Sierra we shall check on the lunarian prince then head to bed its been a lng day.” She sighs. As they make their way to the exit.
Sierra nodded and followed behind her leader her shield accidently bumping against Strauss as they left.
Kyle stood next to aline watching his fellow grand’s leave. His orders where to protect the prince and his company so he stayed behind observing the rest waiting for them to make there way as well he looked to aline “ well shall we go then “ he smiles to the dragon
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[Aaron_Thom]

“Its ready master!”

Phillip smiled and closed his eyes as the machine started.

His will was soon spreading to those that could slow his advance down. It wasn’t long till he found those he was looking for. One by one they went to their beds to sleep. When they were in a deep sleep he struck...

It had been a few hours since Agatha had checked on Vailen. His wounds were healing nicely. Yet, something was happening in his mind. Vailen began to struggle in his sleep. His mind plagued by a terrible nightmare. Jason slowly made his way to Vailen. He had been hidden for most of the day and no one, not even the Devas that came to see Vailen, knew he was there. The Fox/armadillo hybrid stood over Vailen as the prince continued to struggle.

Vailen fell to his knees, looking around at the devastation. All over there was nothing but fire. The world was burning and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Reavers were pouring in from all over, unstoppable. Killing and capturing, no one stopping them. Bodies laid about, young and old alike. It was the end. He looked forward and there standing in front of him was thousands of Reavers and there standing tall with a smug look on his face was Philip.

Philip approached the young prince and laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Its over, time to let go...”

He couldn’t struggle, why should he? For Vailen everything he knew was gone. Ever so slowly a blackness starting to cover his eye’s, his pupils slowly glowing red...

Jason continued to stand over Vailen as he struggled in his dream. Realizing what was happening Jason slowly he pulled a dagger out and prepared to thrust it into the princes heart.

Back at the palace, Crystal was having a different kind of nightmare. While she subconsciously caressed her body. In her dark dream a large wolf was making love to her. Gently caressing her body and making her wanting even more of him. He kissed her passionately causing her to moan. He pulled back and looked into her eye’s.

“I’ll give you everything that Strauss is unwilling to give you if you choose me. Power, Love, Title and most importantly of all, Children. All you have to do is submit and let me claim you.”

Crystal looked into his eye’s, eye’s as read as blood. He could give her everything, her hearts desire. As she contemplated, her eye’s began to change color.
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[Katmir]

Evening, Wessera, Kingdom of Lunaar, Royal Guest Chambers

The blue daemon caribou lay asleep on his chest in the bed, his leathery wings twitching as they underwent an uncomfortable physical change. HexPoint knew his voracious appetite during dinner facilitated his daemon wings growing differently. The transformation from daemon to deva had little to do with a fur's associations, as history attests to, but rather, something deeper within. HexPoint had meditated purposely after dinner to fall into a deep sleep and be refreshed for the morrow. Unfortunately for the winged caribou, the night brought more than darkness behind the pupils of his eyes...

HexPoint's senses told him he was dreaming lucidly again. Each surreal part of his dream bore mixed feelings, evoking what to him were such terrifying vistas that his logic could only struggle to piece together as part of his sacred journey into the twilight of this Age. He was soaring high, above and away from the western borders of the Great Daemon Ruins of Jormungandr. HexPoint scowled at himself. For all the blood he had shed under the orders of General Maximillian Strauss and otherwise, HexPoint was starting to become tired of killing. Destroying things was so simple, yet he Battle of Chenera left a certain sadness that weighed on his shoulders. That those consumed by Philip's Reaver's could not be recalled to their former normalcy and had to be killed... twice. That was the fate of his old friends, Katmir and Connie.

He asked himself, Why was keeping someone you love alive such a damned endeavor? Who is the source of this pain? And what makes them think they can get away with it?

HexPoint's confusion faded into the back of his mind. In his dream, HexPoint beat his wings against a growing thunderstorm, recalling his feelings the day the fox and the armadillo took him in, and the night the gods showed him their deaths. He raged at how the sun had set when their violated corpses demanded his blood. They were to be married and this monster Philip had murdered and corrupted them, as countless others were at this very moment. How could the gods be so damnably cruel and expect zealous trust from even he? He with whom They entrusted the ancient sacred Book of Threnodies with the savage history of Daemons, and their eternal glory at the doom of the world's tomorrow.

HexPoint's muscles ached as he flew higher into the stormy sky towards his goal. He drew his coral sword and lashed out at the lightning, bleating rage and defiance. The clouds dared to blind and drown him in his journey, the thunder threatening to bring him low like his feral cousins on the ground. And yet he flew onward, upward, to slake his thirst for vengeance. What had he left to lose? The gods were silent. Hanging from his belt was the urn that kept the ashes of his beloved Aordafian war pet and the old scriptures. Ashes, dust, and the last of his precious tears.

Despite the rushing winds and the crashing tempest about the daemon, he shouted, "No more will I die for Thee, you self-righteous filth!"

HexPoint tore through the top of the storm with his sword, the fantastic feat but a momentary thrill as a sudden, deafening stillness overcame him. There were no stars about, and the storm below was but a swirling, inky blackness. His daemon eyes glowed red in the darkness of his dream. He considered the palm of his free hand and made a fist as a twinkle in the distance caught his attention. Everything was black now but for this speck, and he moved towards it, unsure if he flew or not.

HexPoint let rage and despair consume him in this dreamscape, perceiving the speck as if it were the fabled flying castle of the daemon gods. He let go of his sword and clutched the thing in his hands like he would when crushing his enemy's windpipe. The sharp spires on protrusions of the castle bit into his hands and daemon magic shot out from it into HexPoint's chest. He seethed, bringing it closer to make it crumble. His hands bled.

"My hands! My will! My power!"

Outside of his mind and inside his closed bedchamber, Snappy wrestled desperately with her beloved Master. She needed to keep him from immolating himself with his own sword. HexPoint's eyes were wide open, but did not have the familiar warm red glow within. Instead, they were a cold, harrowing black.

"Master! Please..!"

*
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[Hoshiginiro]

The rolling plains stretched out before Aline Swiftwing, its grass billowing in the wind. The dragoness could see the clear blue sky overhead, putting her at ease. She took tentative steps, unsure what was to be expected. As she walked, she could hear the sounds of activity ahead of her. Aline ran as fast as she could, the voices getting louder. After climbing up a hill, the dragoness peered down in a valley and couldn’t believe her eyes…

Dragons and dragonesses as far as she could see, roaming across the campsite. The air was filled with the chatter of the everyday life, unaware of her presence. Aline’s heart swelled with joy, her eyes filling with tears at the sight of her kinsman alive and well. With newfound strength, she rushed towards the campsite.

As she drew closer, some of the villagers looked up at her approaching. However, their faces did not show any warmth or happiness. Scowls of disgust lined their faces as though they’ve caught the scent of something foul. Aline slowed her steps to a halt, confused by their actions.

“Aline… My tainted daughter… How dare you show yourself here?!”

The dragoness turned to look for the source of the voice, finding a familiar figure walking towards her.

“M-Mother?”

The dragoness’ face was contorted in a furious scowl at Aline. “You are no daughter of mine! You’ve stained our family’s name with your actions!”

“You’ve sold yourself out to our murders and mortals alike,” one of the villages yelled out. “You’ve become nothing short of a common whore!”

“You haven’t taken arms against our killers, avenging our deaths!”
“You bring shame to the dragons!”
As the villagers and her mother continued to yell at Aline, she could see their bodies starting to rot right in front of her eyes, Flesh and skin fell off of their bodies in patches, their eyes glowing bright red and black. The sky turned bright red as if stained in blood.

“Your only salvation… Your only means of restoring honor… IS YOUR DEATH!”

The demonic dragons slowly shuffled towards Aline, their eyes filled with the intent to kill her.
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[Wolf Stride]

The stillness of the darkness brought forth a comforting silence. It was dark, it was damp, it was... boring. To the daemon, it was nothing short of a slammer. There was no substance, no existance, no sustenance. Only the black allure of darkness that forever beckoned him into the void. The man's wings stretched, his hands attempted to grasp at nothing and it would be for vain. There was no move to be had or felt that could keep him away from his mortal plain. The question was laid down in this pseudo peace that very few could imagine a man like him could feel. Where was I?

It was then that imagery flashed. A beckoning light at the end of the long corridor. Was it a corridor? Did it even exist? His body moved towards it out of it's accord, like wading in water. The light seemed to glow brilliance, salvation.... betrayal. His eyes focused around the image all around, the signs coming to a single point that remained. A lone white feather. It's white colors pristine, it's threads showing signs of regal standing. It reeked of Devas. This lone idea and possibly biased thought made a single hand stretch forth from the void to grasp the feather. To crush it. To feel it's ground pieces be nothing more than dust beneath his grasp. His arms did not allow for movement, the resistance weighting heavily upon his hands whilst he forced and strained all his being to do this one simple task. Whatever supernatural force would deny his hatred for the Devas could not stop such a fierce and unending anger. Mere seconds turned to minutes, minutes turned to hours and hours carried on endlessly before his one hand could grab the very feather that he sought to destroy within it.

Another flash of bright light....

The sounds of battle. The drumming of war. The screams of Agony. It was the battlefield. A battlefield covered in the blood and bodies of it's combatants. The very smell of inexperience coming to a grind as steel met iron, and bone parted from sinew. "Where... am I...?". Strauss had temporarily gained sensation to his body as hands and feet and wings scrambled together in sensation from their otherworldly realm. He felt... young. He felt sickness. Maybe even regret. But why? Why would he feel such emotions and such sensation? His eyes trained foward, a sight forever engraved into his mental eye. A battalion of Devas Spellblades along with a company of Daemon Berserkers. Dead. Slain. Cut up with weapons on the ground and in bodies alike in a manner disgusting. Flies were attracted to the feast of flesh and the sound of battle raged on. In the skies.

His answer was answered. Where was he? He was in the Daemon/Devas war of so long ago. Men and women were at the front lines, commanders sitting back in safety of their war tents and their elite units guarding them for 'strategic value'. They were nothing short of pigs... something that the Daemon despised. Men and women of his own battalion took to the skies to meet the oncoming threat of Devan Archers who took aim upon their location with deadly accuracy. The sounds of agony that came from successful hits along with the call for Field Medics to rush to the field and drag the wounded. This was war. Anger was all he could answer to this. Hands gripped with great force the scythe he was entrusted to, helmet gone and body scarred as wings took to the skies. "I'll kill you ALL!". With great force did the skies shake. Sword met arcane scythe blade. Arrows pierced Iron Breastplates. The heaviest fighters could not stand the speed and force of the man on wings and his imposing resistance. Daemons all around flew foward in assault to keep ground and attempt to decimate the Devas resistance.

It was then that a foreign blade of Daemon creation shoved it's point through the lower body of the Daemon fox. The very taste of betrayal remained stagnant in the skies for one of the other Generals that dared to fight alongside him wanted him to be naught more than a corpse to join his brethren in the ground. Was it for greed? For power? It mattered not. Devas and Daemon alike now aimed to kill the Fox in their struggle over the battlefield. It was madness. It was chaos. Injury and all did not deter Strauss from slaying his fellow man. The wind whispered the trailing edge of his demonic scythe, it's edge drenched in the blood of one and all. It was a battle without a reason, a battle without an end in sight.

The sun rose and fell on this self centered man, body battered and wings broken as he knelt down unto a pool of decaying disgust at his work. A short skirmish, with him as the sole survivor of his own deed. He cared not for the innocent or the weak or even the strong. He cared only for himself and these years were no exception. A single creature of furless gray skin stood before him as it's large gray hair swayed imposingly behind the injured daemon. "Rise weakling. Your work is undone.". It's voice was commanding, it's force showing dominance over Strauss without fail. "How many... how many more must I slay. How many more must be killed by this blade for my price to be paid.". The daemon responded to this 'creature', hidden in the same stillness of night. Not even the wind dared to howl against them, or rather this lone man.

"What's this? You regret your decision? I thought you were a creature meant to fight. To quench your thirst for battle. To line your existance.". This gray 'man' spoke out imposingly. A history known to no one his own slave. Strauss could not respond, the sounds of labored breathing coming to pants and spats of his own blood. "A weakling like you does not deserve to live. It is time to join your fallen comrades in arms.". A single large hand came to grapple upon the small head of Strauss, grabbing him like one would hold a toy. Small and feeble arms attempted to push and pull Strauss away to not avail as muscles tightened around his head and neck, making breathing a near on imposibility. "Do not resist to the inevitable. Your blood staining this earth will bring joy to millions. You are a traitor and a coward.". The sounds of straining and choking followed from the gray man's captive. Strauss could not breathe nor could he resist against his destructive embrace. He could only remain and prolong his suffering at the hands of an unseen force.

'Is... is this the end?'
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[Caroline]

Caroline ground her teeth in frustration. The crackling of molars quietly echoed in the huge, windowed room. A bitter cold enveloped her. The fireplace lay sooty and dormant. It was all she could do not to shiver and chatter her teeth from the chill. Her fingertips and toes felt numb and tingly. Worse, something was out-of-focus. Taking deliberate care, Caroline smoothed out the wrinkles and folds in her skirts while she reclined in the lounge. She knew it would do her no good to get up, or to try to run. This was his dream, and he had pulled her into it.

With no effort to hide himself, Phillip strode out of the mists in the room, and up to where Caroline was. Mockingly, he flipped his cape back while he knelt before her.

She had no mask on. Hiding her eyes would do nothing for her. Instead, she locked her eyes with his. "Stand. Acting submissive is beneath you."

Phillip chuckled. While he twisted the dreams of others with visions of nightmares, this one was special. Resting his hand on the pommel of his rapier, he matched her move. "You wound me to the quick. What sort of guest would I be, if I came at you with fangs bared."

"Acting trite is beneath you as well. You would be little more than the mewing annoyances One currently finds herself leading, if you had done that. Now what do you want. One is very busy, and has little time for distractions."

"Direct and to the point. Dangerous. Deliciously Diabolical."

"Flattery will get you no where."

"Then how about this." From a cloud of smoke a table appeared. A board of polished black onyx sat atop the table. Silver and Ivory pieces covered the game board. "Come now, care to play a game of Queen's Gambit?"

"And what are we gambling?"

"Whatever you wish for."

"And what is you want."

"Me? I am a simple man. I only desire to be King. I know there is something you covet. Now, I am gambling to be King. What will you gambling for?"

"One needs to be careful what she gambles for. Lest she get her wish."

Phillip chuckled. "Ah, the dangers of bargaining with the King of Devils." Phillip reached onto the board, and moved forward his WitchHunter.

Sitting up a bit, Caroline responded by turning her Bandit of Wind. She then slid Phillip's WitchHunter to the edge of the board. "You know, One has wondered something. What do you gain by destroying everything?"

"Now why would I want to do something silly and childish, like that?" Asked Phillip, as he moved his Royal Assassin.

"That is what the Rover's say you want to do. All the information I have witnessed and gathered myself, has also given weight to the argument that you want to destroy everything. Yet... something does not sit well with that assessment either." Caroline redeployed her Page of Cups.

Phillip switched the position of the Royal Assassin and Page of Cups, and then removed the Page of Cups. "I knew it would be a worthless endeavor to try to frighten you." Raising his hand, he stopped Caroline's retort, "And I know flattery will get me no where with you. I also know your curiosity is... a mixed blessing."

"You have not answered my question. How can you be King, if you destroy everything?"

"Therein lies the rub, doesn't it. Everyone says that the prophecies speak of me destroying the world. But... the Rover's don't allow anyone to read them do they? I'm certain if you did, you'd... translate these revelations differently. What a simple change a different translation might make."

"One has often wondered what you would gain from destroying everything. From bringing the True End. One has also postulated that the translations may, indeed, be incorrect. That... perhaps 'rebirth', 'reconstruction', or perhaps 'reconstitution' may be the word often mistranslated as 'destruction'. However, One has nothing to base her theories on, as you have stated, as she is not privy to the original manuscripts." Completing her comment, Caroline removed her Scarecrow from the board, replacing it with the Page of Cups.

Phillip smiled once again. "Ah, it has been a while since I've played Queen's Gambit. Not many remember the Straw Man defense. Quick and clever you are. But also, eager, weak, and mercilessly determined." Phillip turned the facing of his Night Sheriff, and then removed The Thief, The Rouge, and Bandit of Winds.

"You cannot make a city, until you destroy the land beneath it." Caroline nervously clicked her fingernails together. His words did strike true. And she did not trust the Rovers. But... then again, she really didn't trust anyone. More importantly, she understood what it meant to build a house of cards. Calming herself, she made a triple move, advancing the Knight Captain and her pair of Rooks.

"Please, do you take me for a fool to underestimate you? Your move is obviously to make me think that I've beaten you. Come now. I know you. You're better than that. And you will not catch me looping myself with second guessing." And with that, Phillip slid his pawn directly forward into Caroline's bluff move. "Now, shall we really play?"

In a blink, the board reset. "You were so brazen to ask me of my plans, it is only fair I ask you of yours. Why do you work for those who you do not trust."

"One never said that she did not trust them."

"But you know they lied to you. You've already said as much. You've heard the stories they tell, and the books they let you read... but there are those books which the Rovers say are too dangerous. Why do the Rovers think such books are dangerous for you?"

"One, perhaps not. But perhaps the Rovers are thinking of the general, unwashed, masses."

"Perhaps. Or... perhaps they're lying to you. To play devil's advocate, you have no knowledge, other than the scraps they feed you. Of course they're going to feed you the information that makes them appear to be paragons of virtue... when they are little more than slavers themselves."

Phillip continued to move and countermove pieces on the Queen's Gambit board. While Caroline took what she thought were minutes to make a decision, Phillip seemed to make his next move instantly. "They are lying to you, Caroline. They are using you, just like they did years ago. They knew you weren't a healer. And your parents tried to protect you from them. But still they took you."

"I do not see what this has to do with the game."

"They lied to you, saying you could heal others with your gifts... and when you couldn't, what did the Rover's do next?"

"They... they turned on me."

Her sudden confession refocused her. It had been a long time since she had even thought about her parents, let alone what had happened to them. Looking at the board, Caroline knew she was losing. For all her years at playing Queen's Gambit, and her decades studying it, she understood Phillip was born with it. All she could do would be to delay, and delay, and delay. More importantly, his words struck true. She had no idea how he had such an intimate understanding of her. It... was frightening. Snapping her fingers, she refocused on the board... realizing that only a handful of her pieces were left.

"There is only one, true, path for you. Take it, and join me."

"How... how do I know you are not lying to me as well. A mirror shows you what you want to see, not what is the truth."

"What do I have to gain from twisting your own words? I want to be King. A King is a leader, a healer, a teacher, a pillar, a builder."

Her stomach churned and fluttered. She knew what would happen if she lost. Those other fools who worked for her would be no match for him. They were like mewling infants in a dark, horror-infested wood. Widening her eyes, Caroline let out a laugh. Her idea was an idiot's action. A move no one ever did, as the chaos it cause just delayed defeat. Yet... a delay wasn't an instant defeat. And... technically, the move can result in a win. Getting her giggles under control Caroline imperiously commented, "One does have a different move, she can make." From the board, Caroline pulled her Fool. In a sing-song voice, she chanted, "Thirteen yards, and a rake today. Never plow the snow, on Farmer's hay. Get to the store, burn it all. Never have a castle, built next to the maw." With that, Caroline turned the board counterclockwise 90 degrees.

Phillip smiled. "Such delicious callousness you posses. It's been millennia since anyone has dared to use Revolution against me. Let alone actually remember the rhyme needed to complete the move. You'd be willing to gamble everything on a toss of the dice. Delightful indeed."

"It is your move."

"No, child, it is still yours. What do you have to lose? Why do you delay what gratification you want. Why not work with me as a lieutenant. Why fight against the tide of entropy. Doing so only makes you decay faster. Instead, embrace it. that way, you can be reborn. And being reborn will let you discover the knowledge you so covet."

She knew glamour when it was being cast. But his words spoke true. So... true. Why did she want to work with such debase, degenerate, malcontents who would do nothing other than hide away knowledge. There was nothing wrong with Science, and wanting to know why. There was nothing wrong with wondering about what made the Dark... dark. There was nothing inherently wrong in questioning the actions of even the celestial order. Knowledge was a great balancer, in a universe of inequalities.

The Rovers stood in her way. In fact, they actively worked against her. They killed her order. They slew the Elder. And it was Rovers who forced her parents to turn her over to them. They abused her, and made her turn to study that which they said was an abhorrent to the rightful order. Malinkov was right. The Rovers could not be trusted. They lied to her. And they coveted her knowledge, so they could hide that as well. Phillip was correct.

The Rovers were a pack of liars. Liars and abusers willing to strip her of what she was, and then imprison her for her knowledge.

Her eyes glassed over. The Rovers lied to her. Valien was a Rover... which... which meant he lied to her as well.

Caroline sat in her chair frozen. Smiling Phillip tipped over the Magician's Child, saying nothing as it rolled off the board, and shattered on the floor.

[Leaf]

Within the confines of one of the palace’s guest room, Aurelius tossed and turned in his bed, groaning as he was wracked in the throes of a nightmare. Silken sheets and wool blankets twisted around him as he thrashed about. Sweat soaked the bedding. The rabbit mumbled incoherent words under his breath, squinting tightly as he slept…

Death…That was all that Aurelius could see in front of him. Homes and shops burned to only a charred, brittle, skeleton remained. The cries of the lost echoed in the hellish landscape. Everywhere the rabbit looked, his vision was flooded with faces forever frozen in terror. When he looked up into the heavens themselves, even the sky itself was painted a red so rich as to look black, completing the symphony of carnage.

Mouth agape, Aurelius could only watch in horror at the scene before him. “How… How could something like this happen?! Who did this?!”

“Why it was I, of course.”

Aurelius turned towards the voice behind him, and stumbled. His body froze from the shock. Standing there, wreathed in the smoke of countless fires, was a tall, dark, silhouette. From behind the tall man, bat wings flexed. Yet it was the eyes that caught Aurelius the most. Red, glowing, eyes that stabbed through the miasma of smoke, transfixing the rabbit.

Anger filled him. Drawing his knives, Aurelius stood ready to fight the monster. “Who are you?! Why did you such a thing?!”

The demonic figure chuckled darkly, shaking his head. “Simple… They were weak, pathetic creatures relying on the words of an old crone to shuffle along every day of their wretched little lives. I, in contrast, do not! Now, for who I am…”

The figure stepped out into the light, revealing himself to Aurelius. The young rabbit dropped his knives in horror, unable to believe his eyes.

“I am your better half… I am your future!” Standing in front of Aurelius… was himself.

The angelic rabbit took several halting steps back, unable to believe what was before. “N-No… That’s… That’s impossible! You can’t be me!”

“Oh but it is. Think for a moment… What good is the ‘holy script’ of a crone when the Devas don’t even follow them? You’ve even doubted them yourself! You’ve also learned about their crimes. Besides, whatever happened to our mother and father? How do you know they haven’t been killed by that same group you were born in?”

Aurelius’ eyes were cast to the ground, unable to look back at himself. “I… That is…”

“That is the truth, Aurelius… The sooner you let go, the better off we are. Let me in, brother! Only through me can you be free of the Devas’ tyranny! I can give you the power to change the world, to make it a better place for all!”

“Make the world… a better place?”

The rabbit’s mind was conflicted. He didn’t trust the Daemon at all, but his words were making sense. What was the point of being a Devas if others cursed your name? Why bother holding faith to Oracia when she did nothing to stop his countrymen from committing such atrocities? Unbeknownst to him, his eyes started to shift, turning to a red hue…
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My Fursona
FA Page

[The Adept]

Kyle loved the sensations he felt in his dreams. Flying felt amazing. The cold air whipped by him, sending shivers through his skin. His eyes watered from the speeds he zoomed at. Sounds echoed curiously in his ears. Thousands of flower-scents filled his nose. He loved flying. All of it poured into his senses to overflowing. When he was awake, being one of the five Grands weighed heavily upon him. The responsibility and reputation for him to uphold was tremendous causing him to be overly cautious with his actions. He knew his gifts as being a Grand were incredible as well as dangerous. But, in his dreams, he had full control over his Grand powers. It made him giddy like a little boy in a candy shop.

He laughed full from the chest as he flew over the hordes of slimy, mutated, monsters below him. These horrific abominations vainfully stretched limbs and tentacles up into the air to grasp at him, only catching air. Kyle taunted the monsters, further tormenting them. Finally, he landed, allowing these disturbing degenerates to surround him. This was his dream. And in his dream, he was a Grand.

Taking a combat stance, he smiled and taunted them, “Come at me. I promise I won’t fly.”

The wall of bodies surged at him. Howls, cries, and creams buffeted at him, as the massive throng flung itself at Kyle. He danced. It was the only way to describe the grace and fluidity of his movements. It was like a ballet of war. Thousands of twisted, harsh weapons jabbed, slashed, sliced, swung, and bashed at Kyle. Yet, not a single blow was landed against him. He was a Grand, and this was his dream.
Each of his blows landed true, slaying beast after beast. Their blood and ichor splattered heavily on Kyle, baptizing him as the Grand of War. Their movements were slow and unskilled. He was the pinnacle of martial prowess. His face was flush with excitement. He was a Grand, and he would do the title the honor it deserved.

A daggered smacked against his cheek-guard with an odd ting. The sound was… out-of-place. He looked, and realized that, while he was still besting these creatures of darkness, a few of his attacks were being parried or blocked. Not that it mattered; the second strike brought his target down. He felt a jab against his die. A blunt attack, unskilled, and little more than a wild punch, glancing off his gore-soaked armor. He was able to parry another attack. Kyle weaved and bobbed away from two more. Then he felt a kick against his shin. The horde had closed distance with him, and where he had yards before, now Kyle only had feet.

Kyle raised his arm to parry another animalistic lunge against him, yet his defense was too slow. The hook smacked into his shoulder. He knew he should have rolled with the punch, but he could not raise his feet. He looked down. A pool of slime and sludge was coalescing around his feet. He watched as the gore, blood, and ichor on his armor begin to gel and gum up enveloping him to where he couldn’t move. His entire body froze. The attacks he so effortlessly avoided before, now began pelting him from all sides. Each hit increased the size of the mucky-oily fluid on him. He felt it. Some foul magic seemed to animate the liquid making it crawl and creep up around his shoulders and neck. It oozed into his ears, and forced itself through his lips and teeth. He gagged on the stench. He felt it against his eyelids. Drips fell from his eyelashes. Tendrils of the material seeped onto his eyes, blacking out his vision.

Kyle awoke with a start. He was covered in sticky sweat. His head pounded and throbbed. It tasted like cotton had been shoved into his mouth. He couldn’t move anything. The nightmare was so intense it paralyzed him. Swallowing Kyle began to focus on his breathing. Calmer. Calm. Slower. Organized. Getting his breathing under control, Kyle took a deep breath, letting his lungs fill to capacity. But they didn’t fill. Something physically held his chest down.

Tilting his head up on his neck, Kyle realized he was lashed down onto some sort of metal slab. Chemical embalming and earthy smells filled the room, while a hazy, blurry, watery light struggled to dimly illuminate the room. From the dark and the murk, Kyle watched as Phillip walked into the light. Phillip smiled at Kyle.

“Hello, child,” greeted Phillip. “I have something I believe you’ve lost.”

Phillip raised the weapon Fioras Will… or… at least it looked like Fioras Will. With the gloom and his confusion, it was difficult to tell. But he could feel it. He had enough scars to know what a sword-stab felt like. And he could feel it. The burning pain of a weapon being plunged into his soft, unprotected gut. And he blacked out again.

Kyle shot up in his bed with a start. His sleeping clothes were all jumbled about him. The dreams felt so real. No… the nightmares felt so real. Blinking, he scrambled up his shirt. No scar on his stomach. He wiped his face. No black, sticky, oil. Nothing. Calming down a bit, Kyle looked around. He was back in his room. In his bed. Taking a deep breath, Kyle let out an exhausted sigh.

“Might as well get something to drink, now that I’m up,” mumbled Kyle aloud.

Shuffling out of bed, Kyle made his way to the bedroom door. As he opened it, he fell out of his skin. His sitting room was awash in blood. In the center of the room, in an inglorious, sacrilegious pile were the other Grands. Mutilated and hacked to pieces. Flies buzzed around the pile. Jammed into the heap were the Grands’ badges of office. Broken and destroyed tools, ornamenting the discarded flesh.

Then he heard Phillip whisper in his ear, “It’s difficult sometimes, isn’t it. Telling reality from dreams. I’m glad you work for me. I wouldn’t want to suffer their fate.”
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A fact of life: After monday and tuesday even the calender says WTF...
Kyle Stingray http://forums.pleasurebonbon.com/forums/viewtopic.php?t=8106
Escape of The Blue Rose (Story)
http://forums.pleasurebonbon.com/forums/viewtopic.php?t=9549&start=0&postdays=0&postorder=asc&highlight=
My FA
http://www.furaffinity.net/user/theadept/

[Katmir]

Evening, Wessera, Kingdom of Lunaar, Royal Guest Chambers, HexPoint's room:

Snappy struggled to wrench the coral sword from her Master's nightmarish grip. She fluttered her leafy wings for impulse, her delicate hands tight on the hilt, vine tentacles pulling at his hands and wrists, bare feet on the edge of the bed for leverage, all to prevent the sword tip from finding his beating daemon heart. And in her Master's eyes, a black depth she could not fathom...

In his dark dreamscape, HexPoint found it futile to crush the daemon's mansion in heaven with his bare hands since the god's painful retaliation was quite excruciating. Enthralled, he did not wake up.

"Bah..!" he bellowed, hurling the oppressive bauble away from his raging spirit.

HexPoint released his sword, causing his war pet to fly backwards into a wooden dresser with a crash. Snappy looked up to see her beloved Master thrashed about with his bloodied hands, mumbling incoherently.

"Master..? Why can't you see me? Master..!", she asked, dazed and confused as he

HexPoint noticed and focused on an almost imperceptible noise in his brain. The blue daemon caribou's intellect tried to make sense of his bad dream. He did this by relating the strange noise to a combination of the chirping of insects and the crashing waves of the Great Waters upon his mind. There was a certain cadence to the strange sounds, but HexPoint could not recognize it from battlefield experience. It was not uncommon for armies to incorporate offensive magics with the hymns of their tribe, empowering their morale and fighting spirit.

The blue daemon caribou's subconscious recalled the ceremony when his father Peleg bequeathed him the coral Spell-sword, and his mother Idumea removed the veil from his mind's eye. It was beneath the twilight moon he became Mage-Knight of Aordaf at the paws of his daemon parents, not invisible gods. In this unnatural, noisy and vivid dream, there was an unseen presence pulling at his emotional memories. HexPoint steeled his spirit as he was taught, twitched his ears in the direction of the strange repetitive sound behind the confusing visions, and soared like lightning towards it.

HexPoint flew through a swirling black mass again then suddenly he saw the thing which attacked his mind. He could only describe it as a box the size of a royal carriage on its wheels, with many rods, wands, and staves protruding from the top. The thing had many eyes on one side and other odd glowing gems of sorts below them. HexPoint thought it was a metal monster. He saw in its eyes the faces of his fellow furs, including his own. HexPoint was afraid. The noise was increasing, and the spiked monster's eye seemed to start focusing on him, turning his image red.

"My hands! My will! My power!", he shouted both in his dreamscape and in the waking world where Snappy panicked at her master's blackened eyes and bleeding hands. He was now standing on the bed, wings outstretched as they glowed and morphed from tips to spine. She was made to attack, not heal, and it made Snappy all the more desperate and despaired. HexPoint's war pet flew to her master, tears at the corners of her eyes, and kissed him.

Somewhere beyond his mortal body, the monster's screeches seemed aimed at HexPoint's brain. Bleating rage for this terrible violation he tucked his molting wings back, coiled his fist, and cast a devastating daemon magic strike into the eye of the metal beast reflecting his person.

There was a bright flash followed by heavy darkness.

Snappy rubbed her eyes open. Her master must have broken the bed, laying face down upon it and the bloodied sheets. She figured he must have changed early for the season.

*
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"In Excelsis Neo."
Katmir's fursona collection: http://forums.pleasurebonbon.com/forums/viewtopic.php?t=10161

[Wolf Stride]

With anger and pain did the daemon fox thrash about. Everything was held in place, the fading of light coming to a close as the young Strauss kicked his legs and flapped his wings in broken avail. His fear of death, his endless pain. A stereotypical sob story and the price all men pay. Is it so wrong to fear death? With dying air and ever tightening grip upon his throat, Strauss was more than ready to meet his maker and accept the verdict he so rightly deserved. He was nothing short of a monster, a creature whom craved and desired death. But for what purpose?

===========

In the depths of the Lunarian dungeon, prisoners of all shapes, sizes, fur colors and species lie, including one very precise and despicable Daemon war general whom wanted a small little cozy dungeon room to be thrown at. It was to keep the other's 'safe', but that was besides the point. The would be crazy purple fox didn't really have much to do in terms of hating others now, did he? Needless to say, he got his request and had taken up residence in this desolate spot where criminals and murderes of his own kin took up to spend their last days. However, the other residents were of far less concern at the time. The quiet night wasn't exactly very quiet when the entire dungeon was in an uproar. The ever familiar sounds of battle were thick in the air with steel meeting iron and rust meeting skin. Guards deseprately raced all around, prisoners screaming for fear of their lives and some even clamoring for freedom of their wretched state. What exactly was going on however?

In the entrance to the large dungeon, spanning floor upon floor of the palace grounds to the top entrances, bodies met with untimely ends. Guards were slain in cold blood, as were several prisoners for no given reason whatsoever. The smell of tar was stagnant, the motions of half dead, half alive creatures coming forth to assail all that lived. Creatures of pure darkness made living coming forth to assault the dead. Guards and dead fur alike were dragged into the shadows of the dungeon in disgusting sounds, only to let them walk around once more as a being, neither living nor dead. A creature who'se sole purpose was to kill. A reaver. But how? The castle walls were secure and the entire realm was to be kept safe. There was no mistaking it though. The tar was fresh and blood seemed to pour out from here and there from the remarkably still fresh wounds. The Reavers had the ability to consume the dead to join their ranks in such short time.... the end of times was nigh indeed.

How did they manage to get inside so far without notice though? Seducers. Women of insatiable lust and amazing desire looking to come forth and prey on the unsuspecting need of man. They spied and held the dungeon entrance for hours, the same having a manner of entry into the castle itself. The guards were slain, the Seducers having snuck inside with creatures unknown to all whom have been in the Reaver assault so far. Strange creatures sporting tentacles of flesh with spikes leaking tar. These Infectious creatures took the decaying bodies of the recently dead to pump out more cannon fodder into the groups. These Seducers didn't have as much issue sneaking up on men and women of the guard rooms as ordinary slow moving and moaning Reavers did, but their numbers were growing. If the dungeon as a whole was to be overrun and foster the dead into their numbers, the castle and it's sleeping residents would soon be easy prey to the Reaver Schemes. The hero's and anti hero of this Twilight of an Age cannot exactly fight asleep, this case being applied as well to one Maximillian Strauss.

The fox punched and struggled. Words and gasps of incoherent meaning coming to and fro from his desolate cell, the daemon fox was stuck in a dream. A dream in which he was about to die in no less. His own hands were the ones doing the strangling whereas a large furless creature did the act in his mind. He would surely die without exterior aid. On the other side of the wall of this same place however, the raging toll of battle took place. These new Reavers whom came about fighting their way up and down the floors of upstanding Lunarian Guards and wretched Lunarian criminals were certainly relishing in their new found jobs. Such was the case of the other side of the cell, where a man whom held his life in his hands attempted to fight back the rotting approach of death. This man, a large antelope, stood by holding a very large broadsword. The corpse of a guard and three recently turned and gouged Reavers lay soaked in the ground on their own blood and tar stained ruin. Cuts and bruises followed every line of his body as the army of Reavers attempted to slowly reach up to his cowardly man through the small entrance to his cell, escape inevitable and death only prolongued in his one attempt at a fighting chance. It was then that came one of these many new towering husks of tar blob to fight with this man to the death.

"S-stay away you monster...!"

With a war cry unbefitting a last stand and terror gripping this man's every vein, he launched forth to try and kill this creature with his looted sword. His body glided over the ground and his sword swung down from overhead in his attempt at slashing the creature diagonally across the chest. However, a single tentacle seemed to block the same, the edged steel digging into the the flesh ever so slightly to leak tar into the same with the sword not moving so much as an inch. His hands trembled as force tried ever so much to pry the sword away from it's greasy and disgusting appendage, before another of the same came forth from the side to smash the man into the wall of his cell and make the same come crashing down with horrifying force. The impact alone snapped the man's spine, the shock and pain from such a hit rendering the man unable to even move to look forth at his inminent demise. The crashing smash however also knocked off one daemon fox from his sleeping rest upon the wall, the same knocked forth unto his face and covered from wing to hair in gray stone and chains. His grip upon his own throat was eased, the nightmare soon coming to an end that seemed to lurch on forever.

The daemon's head was struck with a very large iron hewn piece of the hooks used to hold the chains for prisoners. He was asleep, so he sure as hell wasn't expecting something so heavy to disturb his slumber. Groggy yellow eyes scanned forth as his head and body attempted to move, causing more rumble and stumble to shake all around in dust and debris. The blurry eyes slowly focused on an image. A very large male stag, breathing his last labored breaths in bloodied spatter. The very obese looking beast of leaking black and obscene tentacles approached the body and grasped the same with one, stabbing the abdomen of this tortured soul with a needle. Sobs of 'please stop' and crying sobs were the last things understandable from this dying fur before his organs were filled with tar and blood was forcibly expelled from his open wounds. The disgusting 'gutting' and transformation from dead to Reaver was enough to make anyone throw out the contents of their stomachs, with this creature not even fully dead. He was still very much alive and kicking, even though fatally wounded.

Now, this unknown stag was set down on the ground, eyes gone and tar filling their place. The life had been force out of this vessel for Phillip's will to be made. This tempered steed was now to carry out Phillip's will and with a slacked jaw and battered body, his prior injuries were nothing more than mere tar covered scrapes as the same stood up without trouble to face foward and prepare itself to look for the next creature to kill. The very sword it has used early to defend it's dying breath had been tossed aside by this Infector, the Reaver now slowly stumbling it's way towards it's prior cell to retrive it. Strauss had now borne witness to such a transformation, the makings of the dream he had suffered nothing more than a blur in his mind. His throat ached. His chest suffered pain. His body ached for combat and his eyes burned in righteous daemon fury.

"What in foul blazes are you? You could probably use more of that Lunarian Bird brain shit. It'll make you look pretty."

Strauss was in no mood to make peace or ask what in hell was that damn creature. It had tar and it looked ugly. It was reason enough to punch it. So with a rumbling stand and a good breath, the fox lunged foward a menacing haymaker into the confused creature, the same having stood there for a good few seconds to stare and listening to Strauss' demands. Even for what they were, these creatures didn't seem all that smart... and the fact that they were inherently weak to standing around to hear lines like those made by the would be heroes ( or anti-hero in this case ) made it all the more easier for the same to be punched by a greased lightning strike to the face. More stone went flying. Metal bars impaled tar and would be flesh as gleaming eyes and feverish steel aimed forth at the now awaken general.

"Would you look at that... the Lunarians took some re-decoration tips. Would any of you be dastardly enough to show me to your decorator artist?".

The fox took his stand, inhuman strentgh flowing in his body. He lacked his magical cape, his cursed scythe and his shattered bow. He needed to ask that Dragonness if she'd repair it, but that was gonna have to be thrown to the backburner. Strauss was going to have to use his fists to get out of this one. The dream could wait. He had to warn the others, for if the Reavers have been multiplying so fast down in the dungeon... the assault on the castle could be underway for all he knew. Most importantly, he had to save himself.
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http://forums.pleasurebonbon.com/forums/viewtopic.php?p=238903#238903- Wolf & Grimm!
http://www.furaffinity.net/user/wolfstride/ = My FA

[Caroline]

She knew glamour magic when it was being cast. The reality of it all just seemed so artificial… yet it pulled at her. It beckoned to her. This was full on glamour magic. Titania herself would have smiled at the pure perfection of it. Caroline knew glamour magic, yet Phillip mastered it.

His words were wickedly true. No… they were warmingly true. Trustworthy. Unblemished. She could see him smiling at her… he smiled like father did. A kind, warm, loving smile. "Papa," she mumbled. She raised her hand to touch his cheek. Her hand seemed so far from her body, like it was drifting away. A curious sensation of being disjoined tickled her shoulder, her arm, her wrist, her hand, her four fingers.

*blink*

Four fingers. Like a whip cracking her mind pushed the thought forward, and clamped her mouth shut. I don't have four fingers… Malinkov does. Her eyes focused on the bronze-and-steel gauntlet on her hand. It always felt the same to her… slightly oily, and weirdly polished-smooth. She had begun to wear them, while she tried to figure out a way to put Malinkov back together. Closing her hand, she smiled.

Pushing her chair back, Caroline stood up, "You're right. Why should I care about those unwashed barbarians. My skills and knowledge are wasted on them. But you… I could learn so much from what you know."

Tracing her fingertips across the board, he stepped closer to Phillip, "If I were to join you, what would you need to prove my loyalty?"

"I knew you could be reasonable. I do have so much I could teach you. For now, I fear I do not have a throne for you to sit upon. As such," answered Phillip as he patted the side of his chair, "sit here by me, Caroline."

Swooshing her silk and velvet skirts she pooled herself beside his chair, resting her head on his leg. Phillip acknowledged her action by resting his hand on the top of her head. "Quite a shift of allegiance. You are full of surprises. Now, when the time is right, I will reward you with a throne all of your own."

Caroline nuzzled her cheek against Phillips thigh. He continued to pat her head, encouraging her to snuggle herself further up his leg. Softly she exhaled her warm breath upon his leg, and slowly up to his groin. Reflexively, he opened his legs further, to keep her slinking into him. She rested her hand upon his other thigh. Looking up at him, she whispered, "You know, this is very comfortable. Still… I think I could do more."

"Really? You know, I've lived millennia. Are you so certain of your skills?"

Caroline moistened the cotton of his pants with her tongue while sneaking her whole body between his open legs. "Oh, One is full of surprises."

Caroline dug her fingers into his thigh, driving them deep into the muscles. At the same time, she bit into his opposite thigh, and fed. Blood poured everywhere, as her bite cut into his varicose vein. It was the most disgusting thing she had ever tasted. His blood curdled in her mouth and throat, threatening to choke her. She could feel herself gagging and coughing against it's rancid taste; yet, she kept her teeth dug into him.

Phillip's surprise didn't last long. Jumping up from his seat, he grabbed Caroline by her ponytail, and tore her off of him. Ignoring the searing pain from his leg, he pulled Caroline up by her hair, until her eyes were level with his. He could not help but smile. "First blood. For that, I give you full marks. You really are full of surprises. You fill me such a curious humor… a pleasurable sensation that does make me want more of it. On one hand, I want to utterly destroy you. To completely remove you from the fabric of fate. Yet… I cannot help but laugh at you, Caroline. I have not had this much fun in a long, long time. I can feel my blood boiling at the wonderment of what you'll do next." Phillip waved his hand, breaking the spirit walk spell.

*****

Caroline sat up with a start. Her muzzle, chin, and cheeks were covered in syrupy, mucous-like blood. Taking a deep breath, she fumbled for the bedpan. Barely getting it in front of her face, Caroline vomited up everything. Tears streaming down her face, she kept puking until the bedpan itself overflowed, and dripped onto the bed. Not able to stand the smell anymore, it tumbled from her hands spilled onto the floor. Caroline staggered and stumbled out of bed, across the floor, and practically crashed through the window in her room, the whole time bile and spittle oozed from her mouth.

For what felt like an eternity, Caroline half-hung out of the window, while suffering to catch her breath. Pushing herself out of the window, she collapsed upon the floor. Painstakingly, the wolverine-jill tugged the gauntlets off of her hands, and hugged them close to herself. Caroline didn't care anymore. She curled into a ball, as the sobs and tears wracked her tiny, miniscule frame.

[Leaf]

Aurelius' body was starting to become covered in a dark energy as he gazed upon the ground. His mind was still in conflict while the doppelganger smirked at the other rabbit.

"Perfect... He'll become just like me soon."

But then, he felt something metallic in his right paw. Lifting it to his eyes, the bunny realized it was his dove pendant. As he stared at the family memento, Aurelius could feel something growing inside of his body. His eyes were shut and his fists were clenched tightly as he shouted, “No… I will not accept that. I won’t accept it!”

“What?! But think about what the Devas have done,” the doppelganger shouted, his eyes glowing brighter. “Think about the crimes they’ve committed in history!”

“Yes, I am aware of that! But they were the results of individuals, not the whole!”

The rabbit cast his gaze upwards at the phantom, his eyes starting to turn back to a white hue. “The script of Oracia is more than a collection of religious words! It's a holy document made to help people live for the sake of others! They teach us about the moralities of charity, modesty and valor!”

Aurelius stepped towards the Daemon, his eyes glowing brighter as the feeling inside the Devas grew. Unknown to him, a glowing white light formed in his paw, taking shape into a blade. “And one of the most important lessons to be learned from Her is redemption! She has taught us that through atonement for past sins, everyone can be saved, no matter who or what they are! Why do you think Nikolai 'The Risen' became a Devas himself?!”

The doppelganger scowled at Aurelius, getting ready to strike. A pair of daggers were clutched in its paws, the metal warped and pitch black. Red runes ran across the length of the blade in a perverted form of demonic prayer.

“I am aware of what some of my people have done in the past, but revenge against them won’t change a thing! I am traveling not just to find answers, but to help redeem my people for our past! Besides, I don’t think my mother and father would ever want me to become a heartless beast like you!”

As soon as those words left his lips, the Daemon let out a battle cry and rushed towards Aurelius. The warped knives were clutched in his paws, ready to cut the Devas down. At once, the rabbit’s medallion unleashed an otherworldly glow. Before he knew it, Aurelius was right behind the Daemon, a holy sword held out to his side. The Daemon’s face bore a look of shock and horror before he swayed forward, his body dissolving into ash.

Aurelius looked back at the remains of his other self, sighing to himself. The bunny then examined at the sword in his paw, not recognizing it at all.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The rabbit woke with a start, gasping for air. Sweat covered the bunny's brow as he frantically looked at his surroundings. Aurelius took a couple of moments to calm himself, remembering where he was.

"A dream? Or was it a nightmare...?"

The Devas looked down at his pendant, seeing it rest in his palm.

"But how did I do that in my dreams? And that blade... Where have I seen it before..."

His ears perked up as he suddenly heard the sounds of combat outside of his room. Cautiously, he grabbed his knifes and made his way to the door. The Devas peeked around the hallway before a dark figure launched itself onto the bunny. Aurelius rolled to the side to avoid the attacker, staring at the would be assassin.

One of the Lunarian guards was staring back at him. However... Its eyes were completely blank. Tar was leaking from its head, its body covered in gashes and deep wounds. The creature lifted its sword and pointed it at Aurelius.

"Wh... What in the name of Oracia is that?!"
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[The Adept]

Kyle growled in anger. "No I didn’t do this. It is a dream and I am a Grand! You will need to do better than this, wizard!"

Continuing to growl, Kyle focused his energies at dispelling the illusion. The room shimmered and swirled then vanished, leaving him in a empty library. Phillip still stood in front of Kyle, mocking the Grand with a careless smile. Kyle had broken one illusions, yet he knew that Phillip had placed layers of spells to engulf and catch Kyle. Still… this library at least seemed a better place than that charnel house of his parlor.

Chuckling, Phillip teased Kyle. "I'm not much impressed that you saw through my most obvious illusion. I was more… testing you, to see what you were capable of. You know, Kyle, your powerful friends, aren't all they're cracked up to be. I'm a King… no… I'm a god amongst men. I will get what I want. You only delay the inevitable."

Phillip was stalling for something, but the Grand did not know what. Studying Phillip, Kyle noticed the blood oozing down his leg, taking note of the would. It would be a good weak point to target. Ending his growl, Kyle imperiously replied to Phillip's torment, "It looks like someone else saw through your parlor tricks as well."

Phillip humorlessly chuckled. "Negotiations are far from complete, my friend. The more worthy opponents… just need a spot more to convince them."

Kyle's hand drifted down, and wrapped around the handle of Fiora's Will. Sensing the rapier's conscious, Kyle listened to the blade's warning. A girl's whisper echoed in his ears. "Watch out. Phillip is, trying to trick you into something. It… it is difficult to keep his illusions and obfuscations at bay."

Without a care in the world, Phillip continued to smile, unphased by Kyle grabbing Fiora's Will. "So, you fancy yourself a fencer. It's a shame, really. I don't have time today to humor you with a bit of a spar."

Kyle unsheathed Fiora's Will. His stance was second-nature to him. In the blink of an eye he instinctively flowed into an en-garde position. "I am no mere fencer. I am Duelist! Face me, demon! Your trickery ends here and now."

"No," mocked Phillip.

"I said Face Me!" shouted Kyle charging Phillip.

"All-to-impatient. No sense of decorum at all," chided Phillip. Thrusting his hand out in front of him, a wave of mystical force smashed into Kyle. The Grand was flung across the room, like a ragdoll.

Kyle's body smashed into the wall with such force that it dislodged several of the polished, granite stones. Struggling to get back onto his feet, Kyle noticed that his room must have been next to Caroline's… or… at least he thought it was Caroline's. She seemed to be… crying. It was difficult to tell, his vision blurred from the concussion, and only having cracks to peek through. Shaking his head, Kyle spat out a chipped tooth. "You'll not fool me, Phillip. That's not Caroline, but I know you're here." He lunged forward again, with the full intent of impaling Phillip on Fiona's Will.

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

Healing was about moving excess life energies from healthy things, into broken and damaged things in order to help them re-grow and rebuild. But the process was straining. Few living creatures readily gave up any life, so each and every ounce needed to be coaxed out. Even for the Grand Healer, the process was laborious. With the injuries Prince Valien suffered, Agatha had to pull from so many different life springs… many of which were not overly excited to give their energies away.

Agatha lay weak in her bed. This time, she knew it was not just the process that had drained her. She was getting old. Age… the only thing healing arts could never combat was age. Closing her eyes, the priestess put herself into a spirit trance, in order to talk with her badge of office.

A young, familiar bunny greeted her. "My dear, Agatha, it is good to see you again. You have done more as the Grand than any other before you. I know you know this. It is time for you to find a successor."

"I know. Just… indulge an old woman one last time."

The rabbit hopped over, and sat next to Agatha. A warm, fragrant spring breeze gently cooled the pair, as they sat at Agatha's favorite dream spot. A hill covered in soft, long grasses, dotted with wildflowers. "I do love this hill too, Agatha."

Putting his hand on Agatha's shoulder, the rabbit mildly scolded the Grand. "It is time for you to find the next Grand. I do sense two worthy candidates are among the company the Duelist follows."

"I know. I just need to make sure both are ready. Forgive an old woman for being motherly. Being a Grand is a daunting task."

"Are you worried they do not have the spirit?"

"No… more I'll miss this place. And I'll miss you."

The rabbit put his hand back onto the grass. Leaning back, he looked into the sky. Fluffy clouds moved along the breezes, looking like white, chocolates against a field of blue silk. "I will miss this place too, Agatha."

"It is an odd pair, those two. I would have never guessed I would have the joy of seeing such old memories-of-heart like that," reminisced Agatha.

Both sat quietly on the hillside, watching the clouds lazy their way across the sky.
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[Katmir]

Evening, Wessera, Kingdom of Lunaar, Royal Guest Chambers

There was a sudden, insistent banging at the door to HexPoint's quarters. Snappy yelped.

"Snappy's master is dying again..!"

Although the air was thick with danger, a soft falsetto voice sung outside in the hall. The door's lock unlatched, and a demure black sheep wearing cleric's robes rushed in. Snappy recognized his lisp.

"Oh darlings, praise the gods I found you! It's me, Elric, from Admiral Stonner's galleon?", he said kneeling beside the winged blue caribou.

The green fairy thing was in tears. "I know, just help him..!"

"Snappy, sweetie, do what I'm doing. Hold his wrist here, and push the sheets into his hand. Don't let go until I am finished with my healing song..." replied Elric.

Elsewhere... HexPoint peered through a bright, misty veil and found himself near massive gates of gold and pearl. They were simple in their structure, and upon them were carved symbols of power. He only recognized this entrance from his vision of what the ancient daemon scriptures, the Book of Rave, described as the Gate of the Gods. HexPoint made an initiative check and turned to see that Snappy and Elric the cleric were tending to his mortal body.

"I see... I stand at the threshold of both mortal and spiritual death.", he said aloud. "Have I failed in my sacred ride? Holy Mother! Holy Father! I await... Thy judgement."

Standing there before the Gate of the Gods, he heard nothing. The blue caribou shook his antlers and failed to hook his daemon wings about his shoulders. Instead, HexPoint had a single pair of bones barely pass his wings forward over his arms. They had somehow changed from dark blue leather to white feathers with a bluish shimmer about them.

He knew this moment would come, yet not how he would react to the reality of it. If this vision of the Gate was indeed reality. "But... I am a daemon..! Mage-Knight of Aordaf! I wield the blood-anointed coral sword, and use the skulls of the damned for war and destruction in accordance with prophecy... Also... I've done nothing spectacular."

A voice cleared their throat behind him to let their presence be known. HexPoint executed a perfect about-face from the Gate to see into the eyes of his gods. His parents. There was no sunburst or fanfare, no legions in flight with swords of eldritch daemon chaos magic... Their presence, however, was enervating. HexPoint knelt immediately, eyes to the bright, misty surface.

"Hail, Idumea! Hail, Peleg! Hallowed be the sacred names of my Makers! Thy servant awaits thine judgment."

The physically perfect daemon doe named Idumea stepped forward. She wore translucent white tresses and a simple golden circlet crown upon her head. She giggled, then spoke with the accent of a world traveler. "Oh, you're worthy enough, my dear HexPoint. Do get up. Let me look at you with my eyes."

"Yes, my goddess." HexPoint stood, unsure what to say concerning his wings.

Peleg, a perfect black daemon panther wearing nothing but a translucent kilt and a wide banded golden crown on his head, growled as he stepped towards the two. His voice was deep and gravely. "The wings are designed just so furdom can recognize a daeva on sight. The changes are much deeper than your beating heart. HexPoint, you are still our son. You are also not done with your mission in the world."

The blue daeva caribou bowed his head, and closed his eyes. "But my god... What I said back in Stonner's galleon to the other Champions of the Twilight Age..."

Idumea interjected, "Was exactly what you knew, and what they needed to hear. You will be more succinct when casting your pearls before them, should they ask. You are incomplete without their support in this sacred mission. They must know that the world does not have to be ruined to destruction by anyone's hand. What is happening now was prevented by the ancients before your ancients. This is your world. Do your best to keep it alive."

"Yes, my goddess."

Peleg commanded HexPoint, "Kneel before us, my son."

He did, and his godly parents both reached over HexPoint's antlers, placing their paws upon his head. The place of the Gate of the Gods shone brighter.

"As fur is, the gods once were. As the gods are, fur may become. By the powers of Generation, Obstruction, and Destruction... we bless you to -"

"- Heeeaaalll..!", sang Elric the cleric to HexPoint's large, muscular daeva body.

Suddenly, HexPoint inhaled deeply, beating his new wings so that he towered above Snappy and Elric.

Snappy squealed and smiled with joy, her leafy wings fluttering, and the blossoms in her hair opening wide. "Master! You're alive! I love you!", she shouted, flying into his arms.

"Elric..? How did you get into my chambers?"

"I had a quite vivid dream, Sir HexPoint. The gods work in mysterious and often obvious ways. Your daeva form receives healing far better than a daemon shell. I'm glad you're fine.", replied the black sheep.

"I repay you with my lifelong friendship, Elric. I will not depart from it. Speaking of which, we must go now. The Castle of Lunaria is under attack. Snappy, fetch my sword."

The black sheep gasped. "We are..? The trumps have not sounded. How do you know?"

"Revelation."

*
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"In Excelsis Neo."
Katmir's fursona collection: http://forums.pleasurebonbon.com/forums/viewtopic.php?t=10161

[Wolf Stride]

Lunarian Prison, Basement Third Floor.

The battle raged on, the crashing commotion falling on deaf ears as the abode of the most foul of furs in lawful eyes were turned into tar filled bodies of stench and decay. The battle had woken Strauss and the prison had several floors. There was a catch however. The Daemon General was without his main weapon, his scythe. Where would his scythe be gone to? Maybe someone or something took it? The fox was also tired. He was woken up rather abruptly in the night after all. With yellowed eyes of golden fury, the combative crashes continued, the man fighting off corpse upon corpse of these undead with his bare hands. His amazing bouts of strentgh were nothing short of impressive, but even he could not come out of this without injury. As the Fox general burst through another set of bars to attempt and ditch his would be pursuers in the dark, one particular Reaver snuck up from behind with a claymore blade, the same promptly impaling the general through the lower left abdomen. His chestplate was rent, his body torn in all directions, but this particular injury of them all made him cry out in pain.

With wavering force, Strauss pulled his elbow on back to smack the tar filled monstrosity, sending the same reeling on towards the ground like a mindless zombie. The sword was still very much stabbed within his body and the same knelt down, unable to take injury, beating and sheer numbers without a weapon all his own. "Urk... I ain't gonna be taken' down by the likes of creatures like you all...!" The question was. Would he even last this long into the fray?


=============

Lunarian Castle Grand Foyer

Tonight was a strange night by all standards. First, the discussion of this 'Reaver' threat to the Lunarian council, then the would be forced treaty that would demand co-operation of Daemon, Daevas and any other major faction alike. Sierra could not understand this, no matter the cause. She could not sleep in her worry and confusion, the Devas Grand pacing about in the Lunarian Castle Foyer with her Great Aegis behind. The night was quiet and everything seemed at peace, even if temporary. Her mind reeled mainly however at the appearance of Strauss, a dreaded Daemon by all means. Her mind reeled at the memories of combat the two have faced. Her shield has fought him more times than she has seen the daemon to begin with. How could such a bloodthirsty creature like that live for so long... and be capable of such massive murder? It was mind numbing.

'I can't sleep. I'm going to confront this new 'ally' of ours....'

In naive frustration and anger, the Grand continued to pace about in questioning on how to approach this situation. Even though he hadn't killed anyone yet, who's to say he wouldn't change his mind now...? The safety of everyone in the castle was at stake, regardless of how good they were in combat terms. With one last breath and a steeled resolve, Sierra walked in direction of the Lunarian Castle prison, very much ready to give Strauss a piece of her mind.

However, all was not as intended when she reached the Gates to the prison, the entrance devoid of any sentries whatsoever. Not a soul in sight and not a lantern lit in the way down the stairs. That's not a normal occurrence. 'Why aren't there any guards? Hopefully none of them will mind me coming on down then.. She had no fear of the Lunarian guards or need to stop for them. It was merely a pleasentry to attempt and present the Devas as regal as it could be. The large and staunt doors weren't even locked, something that brought the experienced fighter to frown and worry. What if the prisoners had escaped? Or worse, what if Strauss went against his word and resumed his bloodlust?

With a creaking push and a cautious approach, Sierra entered through the reinforced doors, making her way down the staircase with the use of some illuminative magic to walk on down. The stairs descended on for a considerable distance, the prison itself being far below ground of the Castle itself with only two entrances. To leave one unnattended was already a worrysome sight. It was when she came upon the guard house beneath that things took a turn for the worse. Upon opening of these doors, bodies far and wide ensued. The rancid stench of war came along with it, something that caused Sierra to grasp her mouth in disgust. Such violence, such horror could only come from the one she despised the most. Old habits tend to die the hardest after all. She did not bother to look at the cuts or the wounds, she simply blamed Strauss for the murders. Righteous fury needed to be exacted and the sins of the Daemon purged, so with her mind set, she grabbed a hold of the Grand Aegis to delve deeper into the Prison.

Things only went worse from this point onward, for the second she tried to leave the guard post, the bodies of the dead rose up in tandem. Damaged weapons in hand, gored corpses coming in mixture of tar and blood alike with damaged weapons in hand. What manner of foul sorcery was this? Sierra's body could only tense up at the sight, her only way out now blockaded. The creatures attacked, slow and stumbling swipes with strangely overbearing force. Nothing the Grand Aegis couldn't deflect, but if she were surrounded... that would be a different story altogether. Her weapon mighty, but their numbers were too many. Swing after swing, parry after block, their swaying numbers kept coming. She would not be able to move so well either due to how closed the enviroment was no less....

It was then that the floor gave way under neath her. The stone flooring cracked, possibly from earlier skirmishes and her body fell down along with her. She didn't have enough time to react from the fall with her wings, but they at least helped alleviate the crash unto the floor, her impact cushioned by more bodies, tar and white wings. The floor beneath was worse. Strange creatures with needle like appendages sticking out in all their obese glory. Lithe women akin to assassins in rather... erotic clothing with very much threatening weapons. More of these strange tar creatures and their dead corpses. Were these the Reavers they were aforementioned of? How did they get in the castle!? One last sight however left the Grand in an utter stand still. Strauss. The General she had come down to condescen, insult and possibly murder, was injured. Sword through his body, wings torns far and wide, face scarred and bleeding cuts all around. Just how long has he been down here fighting?

"Strauss!?". The Devas screamed towards him, the monsters encircling the woman in all directions. "What's happening!? What's going on down here!? Are these the Reavers!?". With a swing of her shield and a kick of the body did the Devas attempt to desperately save ground, her field of vision filled in decaying flames and the darkness of tar.

The daemon fox however had blurred vision from blood loss. The sudden scream of an intelligeble voice bringing his head up to try and spy the voice. "Who's there...? I... I hope you brought men with you!". The man was already heavily wounded, the same using what little force he had left to stand up and attempt to pry the sword out of his body.

Sierra could not believe it. That man she so much despised had never been seen in such a sorry and injured state. The power of these creatures and their sheer numbers were far more than she could think of. "Oh god, if even you're having issues then... No! Grand Aegis, lend me your power!". Her shield took high, a flash of light coming to the fore with blinding rage. Strikes against her shield were met with a powerful bull rush and an assortment of slams from the same, the shield's size and bulk lending to incredible blunt properties. The devas quite literally stormed through the battalion of Reavers to cut a beeline towards the injured Daemon General, the same unaware of who she was.

It wasn't until the Grand approached the man that Strauss managed to look up with snarling teeth and bleeding mouth to take a good look at who she was. "Oh... it's you.... that peace loving Bird brain....". Even in such a state, the racism of Daevas and Daemon was still very much in full vigor within Strauss.

Sierra only turned her back towards him, shield poised for defense. "Now is NOT the time for petty squabbles Maximillian! I thought you were plotting murder most foul in your inprisonment!".

The daemon could only lean upon the wall with blurry vision. With a cough and spatter, he continued. "I was.... but my.... my scythe... it's missing..... I can't... I can't fight without a weapon.".

Sierra's immediate defense was smacked by a large pair of these needle like tentacles, the same unable to pierce it's enchanted steel and reeling back with dumbfounded faces. "Then use the one you've been impaled with. I thought you were tougher than this! Maybe the stories were just tall tales from young rookies in the field.".

At that response, Strauss could only snarl back at her. Nothing angered him more than insults. More so from one of the several he has fought time and again. 'The Unbreakable Defense' they called her. A woman poised for battle to defend the innocent they say. How DARE she mock him? She knew nothing of assault, she knew nothing of the horrors suffered tonight in this rotten jail. So with a growl and a scream, the man forsook pain and injury to make an inhuman stance alongside her. The longsword that had been jabbed into his body all the way to the hilt was removed. Blood, tar, fur, it all remained stuck to the blade. The wound still bled, but that didn't matter. The General was angry. His Daemon blood was boiling within. "What did you say, you useless harlot!? I'll SHOW you the might of the Daemon General Strauss and then, I'll make a woman out of YOU!". His hands held the blade, albeit at an awkward stance. He was not used to the ways of the blade, rather two handed heavy weapons. No matter how much he hated the Devas and more so the Grand, he would not be coming out alive without help.

Sierra realized this and only held her glowing shield of holy undertaking in arms. "Then show me you're not all talk General. Empty words from a dead man!".

A duo of taunts and hatred for one another, put aside only for the common enemy they needed to fight for the cause of greater justice, or in this case, for the most fitting cause most creatures would fight for. To Survive.
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[Caroline]

Something large smashed into the wall, dislodging several of the stones, and startling the wolverine-jill out of her emotional outburst. Stone dust clouded the room. Not sure what happened, she realized she didn't want anyone to see her like this. Quickly wiping her eyes, Caroline fumbled for the hood of her overcoat. Flipping it up, she hid her face in the shadows of the cowl. That would have to do for now. She would have to get her porcelain mask later.

She heard the noises of a fight in the next room, and swore she heard the voice of one of the Grands; yet, that didn't grab her attention. Her deamon servant flooded her mind. She could feel Strauss struggling with something… and the sensation made her head hurt. It was like a harsh pressure pulsing behind her temples. It made her eyes sting and burn. The wolverine-jill giggled. Strauss must have been drowning his sorrows in cheap ale again. Though… the sensation wasn't one of a hangover, or of Strauss feeling all mopey and demoralized.

A morbid curiosity filled her. What could that moronic deamon be doing now to disrupt her carefully laid plans. She did not have time to constantly undo all the damage he kept doing. In many ways, Strauss was worse than Malinkov. Sighing, Caroline came to the decision that she'd have to stop Strauss again, before he did something to hurt himself. Focusing on the essence of the deamon, Caroline honed in on his life-force. Struass was in the dungeon. What was going on in the dungeon of the castle. Uncharacteristically hiking up her skirts, Caroline began loping down the hallway towards the stairs.

Smirking, Caroline realized it might be a bit fun to scold him in front of everyone again.

[Leaf]

Aurelius tensed up as he stared at the hideous creature before him, seeing the tar dripping from its eyes and wounds. The rabbit had never seen such a thing in his life and he wasn't sure what was going on. Did the guards end up being slaughtered in his sleep?

He didn't have time to reflect when the monstrosity lunged itself towards him, its sword raised for an overhead slash. The bunny lept to his right to avoid the attack, seeing the sword slice the space he was once at. Aurelius grabbed one of his throwing knives and threw it at the creature's sword hand. The monster merely twisted his hand, deflecting the knife with his blade.

The rabbit clenched his teeth as the creature lunged for him again, slashing at his side. The Devas used his wings to jump over the tar creature, landing behind him. He barely brought his knives up to block as the creature struck again, their blades crossed. Aurelius planted a kick upon the creature's chest, shoving it out of the way. The Devas too no chances and lunged at the stunned creature, stabbing its chest with one of his knives.

To his horror, however, the corrupted guard merely pulled the blade out of his chest and threw it to the ground. Tar leaked from the wound, staining its armor and splattering the floor beneath it. Aurelius hoped he could get help before the creature struck true.
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[Katmir]

[Castle of Lunaria, HexPoint's chambers]

The blue deva caribou secured his belongings; his coral sword, The Book of Rave, his ocarina, Godis' feathers earring, the violet robe Queen Liu Lu of Chenera gave him. HexPoint had lost his shield during the fight with the monster Phillip, but he was confident he would find armor along the way. He buckled his Aordafian belt as he walked in tandem with Elric the cleric towards the small balcony his room afforded. Snappy hovered outside, fussing with her red dress, pointing down to the adjacent castle wing.

"Master..! The soldiers run to that place down there!", she exclaimed.

"Oi..!", shouted a Lunarian wolf bowman from a tower above. "Gentlemen, take your arlaune back inside and go to bed. Our soldiers are handling this situation."

HexPoint looked up at the wolf and snorted. "Sir, your compatriots are already dead. Sound the alarms and evacuate the castle! Lest the royal house of Wessera be slaughtered by the Reavers."

Two other night shift guards showed up behind the first, who replied "You dare feign authority above our command with such a threat, outlander? Get inside!"

"Damn thine ignorant protocol!" HexPoint clenched his teeth and fists, which Snappy mimicked.

"Aye, stupid!", his war pet barked.

The black sheep places a gentle hand on HexPoint's sword arm. "Guardsmen..! Your furs at arms need more active healers. It is our holy calling to strengthen our brethren both foreign and domestic... and we will mock neither gods or countries. Will you cover us!"

The lead guard's ears went straight backwards while his two grunts either held their holy symbol necklace aloft or genuflected the sign of the Moon. Even they deferred to a cleric of their goddess. The lead guard loaded his bow and fired it straight overhead, the magic arrow exploding in a sustained bright area of light. That was followed by three equal arrows at the other cardinal points of Castle Lunaar. Alerts and rallies commenced.

HexPoint carried Elric, followed by Snappy as they glided down towards the ground by the dungeon keep side of the castle wall. Elric took out his scripture to find an appropriate prayer to cast. He paused momentarily when HexPoint drew his ocarina and Snappy's vines uncoiled from her back.

"Vines are pretty. Tentacles are ugly.", she stated.

HexPoint looked about, noting the muffled shouts of the fateful Lunarian guard from a nearby window. "Yes..! This is the place my gods showed me. I would immortalize you into the holy bible of my daemon kindred properly, had I immediate time, good Elric."

The black sheep smiled widely, bleating a giggle. "Time is fleeting, but the moment beareth much fruit, deva. I have the scriptures marked. One as for the above, and so it is for below. This is a rather long prayer to cast. Continue to play your ocarina until the way is open, please."

And the blue deva caribou did so, paying no mind to the Lunarian soldiers running past them towards the main gate to the dungeons. Snappy covered her ears while Elric passionately sang the prayer from his book...

"And Yeshua led the small company forward with nothing but bugles, drums, harps and voices. Now behold, their strong faith and steady cadence shook the castle walls of the wicked princes Jom and Terry. Thus it came to pass that the mortar did not keep hold, and the foundation was as weak as the evil within. Yeshua cried unto the heavens, 'I say thee as a cub of the Most High God, stones be removed!' The company's prayers were answered that day. And they went in through the blessed path unto the princes, and lo they were removed..."

HexPoint prayed too, though the wicked princes of Elric's religion were daemon princes that were historically martyred in Aordafian tradition. Still, the sacred accounts complement each other. Especially in the specific fact that they needed divine intervention to break in through a back door and hack their way through Phillip's portal. Then, they would seal it from the other side, dead or alive should it come to that. HexPoint continued to play the popular hymn music of that event and thought he heard thunder.

Elric raised his hand up high, no longer singing but pleading with divinity.

"Saints of Orishas! Glorious Wolf Mother of our kingdom! Grant thy faithful servants the open gate as our ancients have! So be it!"

It was as if a bolt of lightning struck the wall before them with a flash, but the noise thereof was more like a giant's gong being hit. It did not deafen them. Large, heavy boulders moved away from the castle wall to the sides. A tunnel was revealed, and so HexPoint finished the hymnal out of respect for the gods. He turned to see Snappy sniffing about Elric, who lay prostrate on the ground.

"Snappy..! Leave Elric to his personal worship. It is we who must face these vile fiends. The sheep will follow. Come!"

"But, Master-"

"Snappy. Heel."

She followed her master to the wide hole in the wall. It looked like an old mine entrance, an old cart having been tied to a spike and ring in the wall. HexPoint recognized it as a mere tunnel set by the castle's builders to bring down raw materials for its construction. He smiled, glad that magic remained strong and even whimsical in these darkening times. They rushed in, leaving behind Elric who was probably safer outside praying while they cleared the path.

The black sheep had merely fainted.

[Old Dungeon Quarry Entrance]

HexPoint's eyes glowed blue in the darkness, his vision unimpaired; but his war pet could not see very far at all. Snappy sniffed into the dirty mine cart when her master grabbed her by the hips and placed the leafy fairy inside. With one hand on the cart HexPoint cut the holding rope, flexed his leg and wing muscles, and pushed off into the old tunnel. It was a steep drop as the wooden wheels rolled along the carved stone grooves on the ground, but HexPoint steadied their descent with his new feathery wings.

Snappy shouted over the noise the speeding cart made. "Master! There's no horse or light! Snappy can't see."

HexPoint took a deep breath. "Hold fast with your vines, my pet, and fear not! The hallowed Baphomet has prophesied that five dark wizards open the secret gate, and they are many. But soon they shall be trodden under fiery wheels, the flaming blade, and their countenances shall burn at the hands of the twilight emissary."

Snappy braced herself in the speeding, rickety cart. "Too many words..!"

"We fight!", he commanded.

Snappy gnashed her teeth with wicked glee as a lighted area was coming up ahead.

In a moment, a spark from the rocks caught the old wooden wheels on fire. Snappy coiled herself against the back of the cart, ready to fling herself into the fray. HexPoint drew his coral sword and heaved his wings, the cart they both held on to crushing a small barricade and a black robed buck caught in shock.

HexPoint and Snappy flew in sharp circles about the dungeon quarry. Here now stood four of Phillip's wizards, struggling to keep open the magic portal the dark forces crossed through. Snappy jet-puked acid and shredded every enemy arm raised against her with thorny vines. The war pet kept her distance above the monsters, but mostly because her master liked her stupid dress.

HexPoint had already slain two more wizards, with just two left forcing their teleportation gate open. But now, one of Phillip's horrid Juggernauts stepped through, cramping the area with it's limbs and five-headed growls. With many Seducers and such already charging up through the dungeon keep and towards the royal halls where Lunarian guards stood ground, HexPoint would ensure the infiltrators' gate closed but good.

The blue deva caribou drove his sword through a hyena wizard's back, causing the portal to close. The last dark wizard pointed at HexPoint, and the Juggernaut battered him along with the dying reaver against a wall. The last wizard began to cast a spell between his paws when green vines wrenched them apart.

Snappy wrapped herself all over the spell caster, thorns suddenly growing from her limbs and piercing him. With a magic flex, Snappy burst the wizard's body apart. She then fluttered around the Juggernaut, spewing her last jet of acid at it before reaching her master's side.

With the Juggernaut and several Reavers advancing in the close quarters, HexPoint had no time to dislodge his coral sword from the dead wizard. Instead, he lifted the hyena's head up by his mane, held the grip of his embedded sword upside down, balanced the weight of the corpse on his hip, and fired a continuous bolt of energy at the giant.

"Foul fiend! Die, gods damn you!", he shouted, felling the Juggernaut with magic from his sword and the wasted wizard. But now, more Reavers came running back down the dungeon corridor.

"Too many! Snappy is scared!"

HexPoint drew and readied his smoking coral sword. "I know we won't die tonight, my pet. But, I don't know how we're going to survive this!"

*
_________________
"In Excelsis Neo."
Katmir's fursona collection: http://forums.pleasurebonbon.com/forums/viewtopic.php?t=10161