Flipout6

Amendale, glancing around to check on his companions again, caught a flash of movement from Zorica, just barely glimpsing her unarmored back. Fearing a strike from he rear like the one she had already suffered, he rushed to prepare a Shield of Faith spell, which would at least save her from glancing blows. Just as he began a Stoneskin spell, a bodak closed in on him with incredible speed. Amendale grappled with it and was quickly being overpowered. In the struggle, he made eye contact with it; he felt a pang from his heart as it skipped a beat, whether because of Rhaine's protection or his own fear he didn't know. But instead of Amendale dropping on the spot, something yanked the bodak off of him. Weyland's sword made short work of it. "Get up!" The warrior barked as he moved to intercept another. Once the moon elf sprung to his feet, he began murmuring the component to an Undeath to Death spell.... Arland focused sharply on his technique and the battle, keeping himself on the move constantly, his blades a fluid, fiery inferno of mayhem and destruction that felled a good number and kept him out of their reach. With his help, Rhaine remained relatively unencumbered by assailants of her own. One, two, three he cut down, and their numbers seemed to thin. With Amendale and Rhaine casting spells left and right, he was sure they'd have some breathing room soon enough. And then something moved. Something big. It started out as a flicker behind a column of smoke until it loomed just beyond the veil that concealed it. With it came a terrible, deep rumbling and the ghasts and bodaks seemed to assault them with renewed vigor, despite their depleted numbers. Then a gigantic, mottled arm darted out from behind the smoke. "Connall!" Weyland shouted. The.... thing behind the smoke snatched the werewolf up in one gigantic hand and threw him, propelling him into one of the few-standing buildings with enough force to send him through the wall and bring down some of the rickety, damaged structure on top of him. It stepped through the grey veil that had until then obscured it to reveal it in its entirety. Its skin was a mottled, rotten blackish-grey and tough-looking. Its lengthy arms and legs ended in gigantic hands and feet tipped with wicked claws a foot long, with teeth at least half that length protruding from its dark maw of a mouth. Its ribs stuck out of its chest as if pried open, and where the heart should have been, instead the likeness of a person remained, curled into a fetal position. The features were contorted as if in agony, but the eyes were wide open...and glowing a baleful yellow light. Amendale's eyes were drawn to that likeness, because the long hair, pronounced cheekbones and soft jawline were familiar... "Mother?" He breathed. His energy felt as if it were suddenly sapped from him, his heart sank....but his will did not flag. He didn't scream or shout or cry. He took a breath, swallowed and shook, but went back to casting. A finished Undeath to Death spell tore into the remaining undead ranks, instantly destroying all of the remaining ghasts and a handful of bodaks, leaving perhaps ten left. "By Tymora...what in the hells is that?!?!" Arland asked as the giant began to attack.

Weyland shrugged his shield off of his back and drew his sword as inconspicuously as he could. A swirling mass of flame instantaneously surrounded each of Arland's blades as he drew them, whereas Amendale's hand and forearm were suddenly ablaze with magical fire, and the tension in his posture warned that he was more than prepared to lash out with them. It was deathly silent as they stalked their way further into the village. The fires crackled and there was the faint sound of armor clanking as they moved, stepping over horribly mutilated corpses and wreckage, but that was it. Amendale glanced towards one of the structures; there in the center lay a burned corpse, surrounded by dark stains. He didn't see it in detail, but it looked as if something had....melted the very skin off of whichever of Amendale's old friends that used to be. His expression darkened before a sound caught his attention. The first attack came out of nowhere. Weyland made not a sound as he brought his shield up and something large and grey slammed into it with enough force to force the warrior back a step. The creature was forced to a dead stop by the strength of the mithral bulwark and tumbled to the ground, flailing with a screech in the dirt until it was silenced by the tip of Weyland's blade, the electricity sparking through its body with a crack that left it smoking and twitching, but obviously lifeless. "Ghast." Weyland identified. Indeed, the wretched mass of putrid, gnarly grey flesh was a textbook example of the creatures; bald, hunchbacked and obviously predatory, with sharp claws and teeth and red eyes with a glow rapidly fading. "More of them!" Arland shouted. "Something else in there, too!" The new creatures were almost featureless. Humanoid and silvery, with blank white eyes and smooth skin, Rhaine was quick to identify them. "Bodaks! Don't make eye contact!" She warned. "With any of them." Amendale added, just loud enough to be heard. Arland opted not to charge them as he was tempted to and instead stayed close to the others, glancing downwards enough that he could roughly see everything but wasn't likely to drop dead where he stood for glimpsing their eyes. They came from all directions, with ghasts leaping from the tops of the wreckage while bodaks stepped from the shadows. There weren't many to start with, but their numbers were rapidly growing. With a shout, Amendale shot a column of fire towards a pair of ghasts, lighting them both aflame before he conjured a conflagaration that exploded with a bang and utterly destroyed the two of them and at least one bodak. He glanced sideways, his healer's instinct proving stronger than his rage as he checked on everyone. Weyland was holding off a whole pack of them, with three creatures savagely battering at him as he held them back with his shield. He angled the bulwark sideways so that it was flat like a plate and swung it sideways as hard as he could, the narrow edge slamming into them with incredible force. A ghast went down as its skull caved in on itself and a quick follow-up with his blade split another in two, spilling its guts into the dirt. The third, a bodak, nearly caught him with a deadly gaze before his boot connected with its chest and knocked it backwards. A quick melee ensued and he decapitated it cleanly. Arland, meanwhile, impaled something as it leapt at him- he couldn't tell what it was- and threw it into the dirt, finishing it with a graceless downward stroke with his blade that split the skull in half from the top. Spotting one moving to attack Rhaine from behind, he caught up to it and slammed his shoulder into it, knocking it into the dirt before he stomped its brains out with his boot. "No, stlarn you." He spat. "Messing with her's MY job."

"I can tell you right now that Annette's just going to stay in her room and examine that river water all day." Marie explained. "She'll stay here, and I'll stay here with her. I'm...anxious to part with her, right now." "S'alright. Me, I'm hung over as anything, I'll have to stay here. Sorry, Amendale." Sybille mumbled, almost slurring. He nodded in acknowledgement. "I'm with you." Weyland answered simply, standing up and taking his place beside his friend. He heard Dri agree to do so as well (at least, if "heard" was the appropriate term) and stand beside him. He placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'd prefer you stay here, Dri. Even thinking about something happening to you..." She voiced her protests inside his head, but he persuaded her to stay behind with gentle words and an even gentler kiss to the forehead. Arland leaned against a wall, arms crossed, but it was clear he intended to go as well. His explanation was, "I said I'd gut the one responsible, and this is the way to do it." Was all he said. Once they had everyone gathered together and prepared in full armor and prepared for a day's trek, Rhaine gave the order for them to head out. It was still very early morning and much of Earthheart was dark, dimly lit by torches attended by the guards instead of the deceased who normally would make it their duty. Outside it wasn't much better; it was completely overcast, with dark clouds hanging low over the land from horizon to horizon, threatening rain. Wind blew audibly in from the west, howling as it broke against Earthheart and sifted through its dead streets. The march to the village up the river was led by Amendale, who knew where they were likely to have settled even without the black smoke trail drifting up from the horizon and disappearing into the clouds. There wasn't much in the way of lighting for most of the journey until several hours had past, wherein the land was gradually illuminated by a uniform greyness and the wind left as chilly as it was likely to get in this part of the world. The road they followed led into a sparse forest of trees with thick, yellow trunks and shin-high golden grass. With the canopies of the trees blocking some of the already-sparse light, suddenly it seemed as if the entire Rift was starved for illumination. The smoke trail, rather than becoming hard to see, appeared even more ominously in the sky as they approached it. The scent of a foul rot permeated the air alongside the more ordinary smell of burnt wood. They seemed to come upon the village out of nowhere, if it could be called a "village" any longer. No more than fifteen buildings once stood in the large clearing that housed the settlement, and of them only two remained even partially intact. The river, deceptively corrupted and lethal, lay on the far side of the village about two hundred feet ahead of them. The smoking, blackened husks of small houses marred the landscape, upon which not a single blade of grass dared grow. Some fires still burned; small things, leftovers from much greater blazes that consumed entire households and- Amendale swallowed - the people within them. The soil was black with scorches and congealing blood trails. Bodies were everywhere, dozens of them, but even from here Amendale could tell that not everybody was accounted for, nor could he detail what their causes of death were. Black shapes hovered over the corpses until, as one, they darted away and vanished without a trace. "We're not alone." Arland stated. "What were those?" "I don't know." Amendale stated, eyes hard and expression stoney. He took a step forward. "But I intend to find out."

"I don't know." Amendale replied helplessly. "I don't know. If it was a warning, though, I think it would have been more clear with the message. And would have shown images of places and people we all knew, instead of just myself. It scares me, though...my family, amongst the other in the clan, are nomads. And we come around to these parts every few years. They could have had the bad luck to have come here now of all times." When asked if they intended a rescue mission, he looked Zorica dead in the eyes and said, "Yes, if it was real and we're able. I won't sit by on my hands if something's happening to them." Despite his projected calm and collected thinking, Amendale was secretly terrified for the safety of his old friends and his family, and it showed in his eyes. "One thing is for absolute certain." He stated. "There's something sinister at work here. I'd suggest we ask around about any other settlements nearby, especially ones using the same river or ones Earthheart has lost contact with. Perhaps they can shed some light on this." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Sybille woke up face-down on the floor, still donned in her metallic suit. She groaned and waited for the headache to pass before she lifted her head and looked around. Light was just barely cracking in through the window, but she wouldn't be able to fall back asleep now, so she stood up. Dagny was up soon afterwards, commenting about how much they'd drunk. "Maybe it was fifteen tankards for you." The Grey shot back. "I hit at least twenty. I've seen someone have a seizure after less." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Later, at breakfast, Amendale sat quietly beside Rhaine, not saying a word as he picked at his food. Weyland, knowing the elf better than most, noticed something was off very quickly and noticed that Rhaine seemed off as well, so he spoke up. "You two alright? You look like you've seen a ghost. Well, probably something much worse than a ghost." "We shared a nightmare last night." Amendale explained. "Images and sounds going by barely fast enough to perceive them. Burning buildings, dying people...others in some kind of agony. People I knew." "Well, Rhaine tried to kill me in my dream." Arland mumbled and was pointedly ignored. Weyland almost choked on his food. "After the river's poisoned? No way in the hells they're unrelated." "That's exactly what we think." Amendale added. The next time Dagny's mother reappeared in the dining room, Amendale was quick to ask her questions about any other settlements nearby, especially elven ones, and especially ones that perhaps hadn't been heard from in a while. The dwarven matriarch, while still haggard and grieving, answered his questions without hesitation but with some uncertainty. "Aye, lad. There's a little town a few hours' walkin' up the river, filled with all sorts of elves like yerself. Friendly bunch, they were, but we haven't glimpsed or heard a thing from 'em since people startin' gettin' sick. One of the watchmen said that there was a big fire burnin' up that way last night, could see it from here. An' I saw meself just a few minutes ago, there's smoke comin' from up that way as well. I don't think whatever happened bodes well for ye, laddie." Amendale paled. "It makes sense, we've come around these parts before." He looked at Rhaine. "When can we head out? And who's coming?"

Sybille smiled and did indeed drink to those lost beside Dagny. In fact, they each drank so much (their logic being that there were so many dead to mourn, and it was worth not remembering some of this night.) that they both passed out and slept in that room while still wearing their full suits of armor. They slept noisily, but soundly. That was not the case for everyone. Arland, after a night of drinking dwarven alcohol, was plagued with nightmares involving Rhaine coming at him with Touch of Death and him struggling for his life against her. Marie couldn't sleep, tossing and turning in her bed until Annette slipped her a sleeping concoction strong enough to drop a horse...something which she noted made for a terribly dark pun in the face of the river incident earlier that day. Amendale had it the worst. He was plagued with a nightmare very similar Rhaine's, with monochromatic flashes of image and sound conveying an impression of a town in flames a horrific, gruesome glimpses of screaming and violence and death, a titanic shadow towering over the ruins. Finally, the grimy, wounded face of a woman screamed audibly in pain or fear, and then nothing. Waking up in a cold sweat, he heard creaking in the next room over- Rhaine's room - and frowned. He shrugged off the blankets and opened the door, not even bothering to don anything besides a shirt and pants. The moon elf knocked on Rhaine's door and the Doomguide answered with little delay. She looked haggard and weary, with messy hair and bags beneath her eyes... look Amendale too possessed. He didn't think he needed to ask, but Amendale spoke anyway. "You get it too?" She nodded simply, eyes narrowing as her mind began to kick into gear. "The screaming woman, near the end, I recognized her..." Amendale's eyes were wide. "My mother."

As the Grey brothers and Marie dispersed to find rooms in which to stay for the night, Sybille opted to follow Dagny as she navigated her way through the (rather confusing) halls of her home, her forlorn expression and posture screaming out her feelings on the matter louder than any words ever could. Eventually Dagny disappeared into what Sybille could only assume was her old bedroom, so Sybille followed her. The door wasn't completely closed, but she rapped her knuckles on it anyway and edged her way in, fixing Dagny with a concerned gaze. "I don't know if you wanted your space or not." She began. "But I figured I'd come by to help you if you needed it anyway. Figure you might want a friend around. If you'd prefer to be alone for a while just say the word." She gestured to the tankard in her hand. "I took the Everfull mug from Arland if you wanted to share a few drinks. Not sure what else we can do in the face of this much tragedy." She spoke softly, eyes wide. She felt useless to her friend when so many of her loved ones had died, but damn if she wasn't going to at least try and comfort Dagny.

"Everyone but-?" Weyland breathed. "My Gods...Dagny, I'm so sorry." Sybille echoed similar sentiments before looking around the hold with a mix of solemnity and horror, her thoughts darting to disturbing images of seeing her own loved ones turn to dust before her eyes. Her eyes flashed, a steely, stubborn determination filling her that usually was associated with Arland. Arland, for his part, narrowed his eyes. "I'll see the ones responsible gutted if I have to cut them open myself." "I think we ought to let Dagny have those honors." Sybille told him. "If there's anything we can do for either of you..." She directed an unspoken just ask at Dagny and her mother in the form of a nod. After all, she thought, vengeance does little to sate pain. Marie felt guilty, suddenly reminded that her own father had wronged families like this before. And then she felt even guiltier for her lack of sensitivity for the Earthearts, and tried to make up for it by giving Dagny a reassuring- if light- pat on the shoulder.

While the Greys and Marie went with Dagny to the Flameheart clanhold, Amendale and Annette saw fit to go with Hrogrim in the hopes of doing some good once they reached their destination. Weyland stayed well away from the handrails while Sybille marveled quietly at how high up they were. Arland complained about the number of stairs, as was to be expected. "Honestly, are we climbing a mountain or walking to a house?" "Both, looks like." Marie commented. "Bet you tire out before I do." "You're on." He replied with a competitive flash in his eyes. As they finally reached their destination (with everybody panting for breath, Arland and Marie included.) Weyland raised a single eyebrow almost critically. "Well, I'd go for the purely practical side of things...a moat of hot lava or pitfalls or something to shoo off those pesky neighbors, maybe turrets. But this is nice, too." "That's a nice house." Arland commented. "You're just misguided." He stopped and gaped at Dagny. "What, that is just above poverty? That's more than most Westars'll live in in their lifetime! 'Cept noble brat here." He elbowed Marie playfully. "Fancy as any house is, I still prefer my own." Sybille interjected. "And I can barely remember what mine in Everlund looks like." Weyland mumbled. They followed Dagny and Rhaine across the bridge and through the front door. They weren't expecting to find the household so empty and quiet, and all eyes turned to Arland when he put his foot in his metaphorical mouth. "Anyone in here? You don't think they're all dead?" Catching on to the pointed looks sent his way, he gestured for peace. "Don't give me that, I know at least a few of you are thinking it." "Hello?" Sybille called out.

POST 5000 WAS MIIIIIIIIIIIIINE .... :cool:

"Doesn't look like we made it on time..." Sybille commented as they all stepped into the city, gazing at the corpses around them with a heavy expression. "Looks like it affects dwarves the same way it does horses." Annette commented, eyebrows raised. "They're both vulnerable to the same affliction. If that's disease, that's not a common occurrence." "I haven't seen anything like this in my whole ninety years." Amendale commented. "That isn't stlarn for an elf." Arland commented. "If this was a race against time, Sybbie, somebody forgot to honk our starting horn. Don't beat yourself up over it." "I'm not, it's just...I wonder how many of these were parents. Maybe the children you see playing here are orphans now. Maybe they don't know how to cope." "Nothing we can do about it." Arland affirmed, before sighing. "...but I guess I can understand that." Keeping up his habit of keeping an eye on his surroundings and the people within them, he noted a few things. The guards, for all their stoicism and heavy armor, looked beleaguered and weary, sad. They watched the group warily, with eyes focused primarily on the elves, but they were distracted, distant. Maybe the adults didn't know how to handle it, either. The city was an organized collection of low-hanging, sturdy stone structures, some barely tall enough to fit the likes of Sybille and the others towering to several stories high. The streets were surprisingly empty and the air felt heavy, almost constricting. The ominous silence that had fallen upon the town only reinforced the feeling. A few kept to their forges or went about their business, eyes downcast, but that was all. At least until somebody bumped into Lucas. "Might want to watch where you're going there, friend." Sybille said, raising an eyebrow. "Might knock somebody over. Need a hand?"

Once Azrael started it didn't take long before many of the other horses started showing the symptoms of drinking the poisonous water. Amendale's steed, a light and fast little thing, laid down in the grass and when the elf went to try and save it he found nothing but a skeleton, to his despair. Weyland's shook and fell over- though Weyland himself was too dazed to notice- and the Ordains' steeds both went down and died as well. Amendale couldn't save them in time. Sybille watched her fearsome old beast of a horse shudder and twitch....and stay standing. She was suddenly very proud of the tough old warhorse, although she didn't find herself surprised that mount formerly belonging to he father would survive something that would kill his fellows. Amendale was quick to heal it, finding that it needed just as many purges as Weyland had but half the healing. Weyland, lucid and recovering, lay in shock for almost two full minutes before he began to come to, shifting carefully and staying away from the puddles of his own gore-filled mess on the ground. It wasn't until Rhaine began questioning him that he seemed to jump back to life, sitting himself up without assistance. He poured his canteen out completely, wiped his foul-tasting mouth, and then gave her an answer. "Nothing really out of the ordinary. It was nice and refreshing, actually. Nothing unusual about that, at least until it starts burning. Felt like I was being eaten, inside-out." He shuddered violently, but was quick to insist that he was in no danger. "I think I'm okay, thanks to Amendale. Feels like my legs went to jelly. Gods, that hurt." "Your horse is recovering too." Amendale reported. "He didn't drink much." He didn't hear or see a response. "I think we need to get to Earthheart, and quickly." Sybille suggested. "If they've been affected they may have some insight on this to share and if not, they must be warned before people begin to die." "I'll take a sample of water." Annette told them. "Weyland, I need your container. Best not risk contaminating another canteen." The warrior handed it to her and she went to fill it, using magic to funnel the water into the canteen instead of touching it before bringing it back. "Maybe I can analyze it." "Just be careful with it, sister." Marie pleaded.

Sybille spent her time in the air atop Argyros's head, carefully avoiding the frill along his neck and enjoying the adrenaline rush of riding on the least stable ride of the bunch. Annette clutched Sybille's waist tightly, white-knuckled as she looked down and felt her stomach spin, but she also found it exhilarating in it its own terrifying way. Amendale, who had begun the journey by hanging on to a semi-flexible spine on Argyros's back, startled everyone by suddenly leaping into the air off Argyros's back before he made it plainly obvious that he'd cast the overland flight spell on himself and now flew in the air, keeping pace with the silver dragon. They conversed casually as they went. Arland and Marie had little trouble keeping their balance within the surprisingly spacious second floor of the carriage. Marie, used to ducking and diving, found breaking the only fall she had to be a trivial task while Arland stumbled but stayed on his feet. Weyland was having a much tougher time of it; the warrior was having trouble adapting to the pitching and tilting of the floor beneath him and at more than one point tumbled off of his feet and rolled. "Stlarn!" He cursed. "I could take it if Argyros gave me a dragon-sized haymaker but I can't keep my balan-OOF!" He hit his head on one of the bars of the cage and stumbled, falling flat on his rear. "AMENDALE, YOU'D BETTER TEACH ME HOW TO FLY AFTER THIS!" "Nah." The Elf shot his friend a smirk. "OW!" Weyland rolled and his elbow hit the ground numbing the entire arm for a brief second. Amendale saw fit to fly around the cage a few time, rolling in mid-air just to prove his point, before waving a sarcastic good-bye before disappearing above them. It was several long hours of this kind of treatment until they finally reached their landing point. Everyone in the cage nearly went airborne was it was dropped the rest of the distance to the ground. Amendale casually landed in the grass and opened the door for them, letting the horses go through first. They were restored to their normal size as they went, and once the last of them were out Arland and Marie came casually striding out while Weyland stumbled and held his hands out in front of him to grab a hold of anything he could. "Well," Marie began. "At least we know what shape he'd be in if we rolled him down the hill in a barrel." "We should try that someday." Sybille commented from atop Argyros as she slid down to the ground and helped Annette off, catching the smaller woman and setting her down in the grass. "'Course the couple times I've done it I always wound up taking out entire clumps of bystanders so maybe it's not so good an idea after all." "That was fun!" Annette exclaimed, wide-eyed. "Thanks, Argy!" "I wanna fly." Arland grouched. "Damn wizards get all the luck." Annette set his pantleg on fire and blamed Amendale. Weyland, feeling nauseous, drank the rest of his water to make himself feel better and then followed the horses to the nearby river for a drink. The water was delightfully cool and fresh, and Weyland cupped some in his hands and drank greedily as he refilled his canteen. Once that was done, he returned to the others. "Well, guess we oughta head into town. Lead the way, Dagny?" The dwarf nodded and pointed them in the right direction, working her way to the front of the group and forging ahead. She seemed to know the area like the back of her hand, and Sybille guessed they'd arrive well within the hour. "Damn, it's surprisingly fresh out here." Weyland commented as he coughed. "Westgate's usually warmer than this." A shiver wormed its way down his spine as a breeze hit them. "Are you kidding? It's hotter than the hells out here!" Arland commented. "You're sweating like a dog, no way you're cold." "Stomach still feels like it's in knots from the cage." The eldest Grey reported, wiping his brow. He looked nauseous, alright; clammy and sweaty, his skin yellowed. "I think some time sitting down and eating'll do you some good." Amendale told him factually. "If you hurl, for the gods' sake do it in the bushes." Arland rolled his eyes. "I swear even Marie's made of tougher stuff than you." She slapped his shoulder playfully. It was a few minutes later before the warrior stopped, having gone from light coughing to hacking up a lung and finally to gagging. "Something's wrong." He managed to croak between coughs before he dropped to his knees, retching. "Yeah, I'll tell you what's wrong, you can't handle motion sickness to save your life." Arland deadpanned, brows raised...at least until a particularly loud cough left a puddle of crimson in the dirt and Weyland stopped talking. "Oh stlarn. What the- what did you ea- Amendale, Rhaine!" He cried as Weyland fell sideways, twitching. The moon elf rushed to Weyland's side, rolling him onto his back and sitting him up so he didn't choke just as his friend spat up more blood, his breath rattling as he heaved and gasped for breath, his lips red. "What's happening?" Sybille asked, alarmed, as Amendale cast a healing spell on Weyland to stop the internal bleeding. "I don't know." Amendale commented. "Better?" Weyland paused and almost nodded, but then with a lurch he hacked wetly and needed Amendale and Annette to hold him up as he gagged and spat it all over the ground. "Healing isn't working." "It could be poison." Annette suggested. "Some venoms cause severe internal hemorrhaging." She fished one of the multi-purpose antivenoms out of a pouch, let the warrior clear his throat and then forced him to swallow some of it. "If this doesn't work, try purging his system of disease." Nothing happened for a few seconds. When Weyland curled into a ball, his hand on his throat, that was when Amendale began to get truly worried. An acrid, sulfuric gas visibly poured from his mouth and nostrils, coloured a sickly pale yellow and the warrior threw up the potion, the clear mixture diluted with red. Amendale cast a spell that would cleanse any sickness he was suffering from. Or so he thought. It did seem to help some; the gas pouring from Weyland's orifices thinned, the rattling became less pronounced and he didn't cough up as much blood, though his situation seemed to worsen as the seconds passed. Amendale hit him with the spell again, and then a third time, before healing Weyland a second time, hopefully neutralizing whatever sickness held him and then patching up the internal bleeding. "Agh." Weyland grunted. "Better, better. I-" he coughed. "I think you got it." "What in the hells..." Marie breathed. "I don't know." Amendale said again.

Weyland looked sidelong at Dri as she chewed on bacon she stole off of his plate (Grinning mischievously at him the whole time.) and then, with a smirk, took two of hers and shoveled them into his mouth and hugged his food close to his chest to prevent her from grabbing any more...a good effort that was useless given her roguish reflexes and speed. He ultimately failed to notice Sir Meowsalot drinking from his mug until the cat jumped right past his face onto Ianthe's shoulder, which startled Weyland so much that he accidentally kicked himself off the counter and out of his stool, where he seemed to hang in the air for a second before hitting the ground, all the while shouting "Huah! Cat!" before landing with a thump. "Smooth." Sybille commented. "I thought warriors were supposed to be brave." Marie added drily, sharing a smirk with Sybille and her sister. "Hey!" Weyland squaked in protest. "Cats are deadly creatures!" "Only the one you stabbed." Arland butted in. "I hate you all." the eldest mumbled sarcastically. Dagny's news that she wished to leave, however, quickly put an end to the mirth. Weyland looked up from the floor, stood up and dusted himself off while the attention was focused on her. "Nahh, Dagny, you pull your own weight alright." Sybille reassured the dwarf. "But if you're homesick...well, none of us can argue with that, can we?" She looked her friend in the eyes. "You'll be missed, though, make no mistake." "Nawen's right." Amendale stated. "If you want, we can help you." Upstairs, Annette watched with amusement as Aera tore into her steak with surprising enthusiasm. "Well, if it makes you feel a little happier, it's already better than nothing." Her voice lowered in volume, though, as she addressed the metaphorical elephant in the room. "It's okay to be afraid, Aera. It happens to all of us. Sybille's even confessed that she gets scared a lot, and I know for sure I do." She gave the weretigress a small smile. "Just....let someone know next time."

Weyland nodded solemnly and confirmed Dagny's statement. "Yes, Theia too. We burned the body, couldn't bury it. 'Least she should be at peace now." Amendale momentarily scowled in response to Rhaine, but shrugged it off. "Well, what's done is done. As far as carrying us across the desert goes, I'll have to think about it before I have any ideas." Arland sat quietly (for once) and stewed, caught between holding a grudge against Arva, Aera and Ianthe for not being there when any and all assistance was needed and waving it off as them looking out for their friend. Ianthe's sudden bursting into tears made up his mind for him, however. He watched with a wince as she cried, feeling a twinge of guilt that was only doubled by Aera's equally distraught dash to her own room, and then decided that he might as well cut them some slack seeing as nobody else save Amendale seemed to be doing so. Annette, meanwhile, waited a minute and then bought a plate of food for a few bits and quietly slipped upstairs to Aera's room. Ianthe had Arva with her, but Aera didn't seem to have anyone's sympathy. She knocked lightly and opened the door a crack. "You okay?" She asked. "I don't know if you're hungry but I have dinner for you if you want it."

"Uh...." Weyland frowned, wondering where the hells Arva had just appeared from. "Well, a lot's happened, actually-" "We went to rescue Kalin and he attacked us, we took out an entire group of psionics and zombies, now we're here." Arland interjected, before piping up and telling Aera, "By the way, Weyland split your assassin wide open, by the way. No need to worry about him." "Tak'We didn't make it though." Weyland added soberly. "The ruin started to come down and he was buried. But we won, at least." "Kalin and Tenebris are alive, but they left to go off on their own adventures or some such stlarn. Kalin, at least, is good riddance." He felt Rhaine's glare even before he turned around in his seat to witness it, but he shrugged it off. He looked her in the eyes, pointed and stated, "You know my opinion on it, don't start." Weyland cuffed him upside the head and for once Arland decided to return it. The cuffing stopped there, however, and Sybille didn't even have to get out of her chair to stop it. "Say, where were you three? We could have used your help when we had psychic ninja necromancers trying to kill us." "They weren't ninjas, stop flattering yourself." Marie cut in with a raised eyebrow. "....I was, though." "Oh-ho, is that so?" The youngest Grey shot back with an amused grin. "I thought ninjas were good at dodging swords." "I let it hit me. Not fair otherwise." She shrugged. "If I made myself look too good it'd just be another case of Arland Grey getting overshadowed by his betters." "Happens a lot." Sybille cut in. "It's pathetic, really." Amendale couldn't keep himself out of it. When he heard Aera's apology, however, he stopped smirking and turned to reassurance. "Don't worry about it. I think we've all had that happen to us more than once. It's natural to be afraid. And you two-" he pointed to Arva and Ianthe. "-I'd say going with her was a good thing to do. Wouldn't you say so, Rhaine?" He gave her a pointed look.

Marie groaned and rolled over to see who was in the tent now, expecting it to be Sybille or Annette. She was surprised, however, to find that it was instead Rhaine that had opted to pay a visit. It was also rather unexpected when the Doomguide pressed the back of her hand to Marie's forehead, but she felt a rush of warmth when she learned that Rhaine was concerned about her. She offered a weak smile. "I'm tired and sore, and my head's pounding, but I think everyone can say that." She reported. "Once I've had some rest I should be much better. Might take a day or two to recover fully but I'll probably be able to pull my own weight tomorrow. Now if only those drums weren't so loud..." She rubbed her temples before she spoke again. "Thank you for checking on me. Really, it means a lot to know that you care." Hr smile was warm and genuine. Weyland, after having a few drinks with Dri (and making sure she didn't knock herself unconscious by consuming too much.) let her finish her glass, gazing at the dancing Thri'Kreen, and then his face broke into a broad grin. He led her out to the fire and then started dancing with surprising knowledge and grace....which was hampered by his semi-drunken state. It wasn't anything fancy, obviously being dances coming from the lower classes, but he performed adequately well. "Come on, dance!" He challenged Dri. "I'll show you some of the moves us peasant-slaves learn!" Arland watched, bemused. He considered one-upping Weyland by using his natural grace and agility to his advantage, but then decided to let his brother have his moment and went back to his drink. Annette, meanwhile, sat down beside Connall and offered him a drink. To her mild surprise, he took it and indulged himself in a generous mouthful, and the young woman watched, quirking an eyebrow with amusement. "You enjoying that?" She asked, with a bemused curl of the lips. "I figured you deserved a "thank you" for rescuing my sister earlier. I don't have any dog biscuits though, I'm sorry to say." She grinned and gave him a quick, sisterly kiss on the cheek. She almost missed and pecked his eye instead, which amused her, but she went with it. "Maybe that'll do instead?"

"Booooring!" Arland declared, giving Rhaine a look that was partially bemused and partially disappointed. "I'll drink up her share too, then." Sybille told her brother with a casual shrug. The way back to the Thri'Kreen camp was one that seemed to drag on for Amendale and Marie, who simply desired a place to lie down, while it went by surprisingly quickly for the Greys. Sybille fell in beside Zorica and casually asked about life as a Doomguide, as she appeared to possess knowledge on the subject. Weyland- unsurprisingly - strolled along beside Dri, while Arland glared daggers into Kalin's back. The merrymaking that ensued once they reached their destination lifted the Greys' moods, while Amendale sat down heavily and Marie went off to find somewhere to rest. Sybille, true to her word, finished a cup of wine before she started counting her consumption in earnest, but after her second she left to go look for Marie....but took a mug with her. Arland sat beside Dagny, obviously well on his way to intoxication. He finished a portion of drink before asking, "Say, can I have a sip?" She obliged him, and he took a sizeable swig for his "sip" and promptly choked on it the instant We'Ka mentioned Tak'We's son. "Wait, what?!?!" He coughed, handing the mug back to Dagny and hunching over, wiping his mouth. "He has a son? And they've never met!" He glared at Kalin. He didn't say anything, but the implied blame was obvious. "Arland, shut up and celebrate." Weyland sighed, already sick of Arland's blaming the Elan known to all. Sybille found Marie in a tent, not quite asleep (somehow) but getting there. She raised her head to greet the warrior and got a cup of wine for a response. "How're you feeling?" Sybille asked. "Sore." Marie replied, rubbing her eyes and yawning. "Thought so. Drink that to dull the pain then go to sleep, remember? As I recall this isn't the first time someone threw a sword at you and it worked last time." "What? Oh right." Marie recalled a time before they'd met Rhaine's group when she'd taken a short blade to the thigh as a last act of desperation from a man she was closing in on as part of a job. She brought the glass to her lips and drank it all in three gulps. Groaning, she laid her head down on her pillow and closed her eyes. "Thanks." Sybille nodded and left with the glass. She passed Annette and said, "Yeah, she's out." and then sat beside Rhaine at the fire. Weyland, meanwhile, offered Dri a drink even as he got a new one for himself. "Shall we?" He paused, then laughed. "Get drunk, I mean."

"Huh?" Weyland groaned as he was shaken awake. "How long I been out? Feels like five minutes ago..." "It WAS five minutes ago." Sybille clarified. "We been rescued." "That was quick...." "Yep. Get up." Arland, meanwhile, had to explain the entire situation to Marie, who has passed out almost as fast. "Hey, we got a way out. Thri'Kreen, not the dead ones either." "How long have I been-" She began the exact same line of questioning Weyland had. "-Five minutes." He told her. "Come on, you can sleep when we're outta here." He pulled her up and steadied her until she could walk on her own and started following everyone out. Marie and Amendale could barely walk straight on the way out. Arland guided Marie by the shoulder while Weyland would occasionally take the time to shake Amendale violently to wake him up and then point him in the right direction, much to the elf's chagrin. Sybille took up the rear guard on the way out, not expecting to encounter anything but rather to give any stragglers a boot to the behind to speed up, even despite her own poison-induced sluggishness. Once they were outside of the mountain, they took a break to breathe and drink what water they had left. Hearing Nawen's begrudging agreement with Shalena, Weyland turned around and poked harmless fun at her, grinning widely despite the bags forming under his eyes. "Right, it's just for the beds. You know you want in on the drinks, Nawwy." "Stlarn." Arland interjected. "I'll bet even Rhaine wants drinks. Isn't that right, Rhaine?" He grinned mischievously at her. "Come on, 'least a whiskey or two?" "If she turns it down I'll drink that before I even start countin'." Sybille laughed.

Arland stood up. "I can't hear it. Can you tell what they're saying, whether they're alive or undead, common or something else? For all we know the dead might not be dead yet. Or something else survived. "No sense in not being cautious." Sybille said, grabbing her maul from the ground. "Hey, I think I can hear it." Annette said, being the closest to the rubble of the three of then. "Sounds...high-pitched? Squeaky..." "Hexol?" Arland thought aloud. "Wait, Hexol?!?!" "Hexol! That you?!?!" Sybille shouted. "We're trapped in here until we can blast our way out! You have anyone with you?" She received her answer several minutes later when a massive scorpion cleared a path through the rubble. "Well....I guess rescue's here!" Arland declared. "Hey look, Thri'Kreen. They're not dead this time, either." He gently shook Marie awake while Sybille saw to Weyland, Dri, and Amendale...the latter with pitying regret, seeing how tired he was.

Amendale, exhausted, stood before the border to the rubble surrounding them and, using most of what little power he had left, scanned the ruins for any signs of life- specifically, Tak'We's. The Moon Elf sincerely hoped that he found nothing; after all, he wasn't sure he'd have the heart to magically euthanize Tak'We should he be found. Dreading what he might find in every new inch he scanned, Amendale scanned the entire ruin and found nothing. His arms dropped to his sides, adding to the beaten-down posture that his hunched shoulders began. "At least he died quickly." He announced. "There's nothing alive down here except us. No life signs under the rubble." Weyland let out a deep sigh of relief and rested himself completely, cradling Dri in his arms and keeping her as comfortable as he could. He quickly dozed off, falling into an extremely deep and dreamless sleep. When the argument flared up, Amendale told the two of them, "I'd imagine Tak'We wouldn't want us grieving for him while trapped. He'd probably want us to wait until we were safe. That said, we ought to grieve now however much we need to and rest before we begin forging our pathway out. Once we are free, then we shall pay our proper respects. We all need rest...." He paled, shaking with weariness. Already he was beginning to form dark bags under his eyes. He removed his cloak and set it in the dirt to use as a pillow before he laid himself down and fell asleep almost instantly, utterly exhausted from the mental strain of the battle and the healing. When Rhaine awoke, Arland started and looked at her. "You're up. Feeling okay? Annette said something complicated about spine damage and neck movement." When her head turned, he caught a glance of her hair, blood congealing in the red locks. "Your head's all bloody. You aren't bleeding, are you?" "I still have the odd potion if you're feeling too strained for healing, My Lady." Annette offered, holding out a bottle. With all the yelling and raised voices, Marie clutched her head painfully, massaging her temples and groaning. Arland looked over at her, concerned, and then asked Annette, "Hey, is she doing alright?" "Concussion's gone, but the head is still going to hurt." She answered matter-of-factly. "You should get some sleep then, Marie. Make yourself feel better." Marie didn't say anything, merely leaned back against Argyros and closed her eyes.

Arland hit the ground with a whoof as he was about to deliver a counterstrike to one of Kalin's own blows. He hopped spryly to his feet, expecting to be confronted with something that wasn't the Doomguide. "What're you doing?" He asked, and stood within striking range of the Elan Rhaine had pinned. "If we can't snap him out of it, he dies." As they continued to struggle, Arland scowled and positioned himself to behead the Elan if need be, but Rhaine's sudden flash of memory spared him from doing so....though Arland had his doubts. "How do we know this isn't a trick?" He asked her seriously. She gave him a LOOK. Arland then decided to just go with it. Amendale fired an extremely powerful fireball with as much explosive force as he could concentrated into it straight into one of Valthanarax's upper vertebrae. It impacted and exploded with an incredible burst of force that nearly separated two of the vertebrae- exactly Amendale's goal. Next, he prepared a lightning bolt to fire at Saris, but she got the spell off first, and Amendale couldn't switch to a shield spell in time to save himself from it. Saris's Horrid Wilting spell caught him full-force and most of the water in his body was instantly evaporated. Before his brain could process this the sheer physical trauma of the effect rendered Amendale unconscious almost instantly. He stumbled back a few steps before dropping stiffly to the ground and lay still. Nearly dead, only Rhaine's healing spell kept him stable enough to make it to the end of the battle alive. Once Saris and Valthanarax were dead, time seemed to speed up again. Sybille and Amendale had to be carried to Argyros and even then they barely made it. Weyland held his shield above his head as he hauled his sister across the chamber; a wise move, as a sizable boulder that would have hit him in the head and instantly killed him instead bounced off the shield. Even angling it sideways to deflect falling debris instead of taking its full force, the weight of it broke the warrior's wrist with an audible snap. He kept the shield up even as he seethed with pain until he was safe underneath Argyros's wing. Connall made it with Amendale, saving the Moon Elf's life, though the healer was unconscious. Unfortunately Tak'We wasn't fast or close enough to reach salvation. The Thri'Kreen was buried under tonnes of rubble, never to be seen again. "Tak'Weeeee!" Weyland cried, even as tears began to roll down his cheeks. He made to pull back Rhaine with his good hand before she was knocked out by a lump of rock and Argyros pulled them both back. Weyland landed hard on his back with a thump. Arland looked on in horror at the sight, first Tak'We and then Rhaine. Whether the Doomguide was even alive after that hit was anyone's guess. He shrunk back against Argyros's side and ran his hands across his face before slinking down into a seating position and holding his head in his hands, shaking as the adrenaline wore off. Sybille teared up...and then steeled herself, refusing to let herself despair. With Rhaine and Amendale out for the count, they were limited for healing abilities. She turned around. "Alright everyone. Fighting's over, but we have injuries need patching up. I doubt I even have to say this, but If anyone's got healing magic, spare potions, even first aid if nothing else, they're needed." Annette was already fishing her potions out of her back. "Take this, sister. You have a concussion." She handed a moderate-strength health potion to Marie, who shakily uncapped the lid and downed it with one gulp, before she darted around checking injuries. "We need everyone stable. Once that's done, we get Amendale and Rhaine awake so they can help, and we move on to the others." She told nobody in particular, mostly voicing her own thoughts out loud. Connall had some scrapes and cuts and bruises, so she forked him over one of the weakest potions she had. She also gave Weyland one for the broken wrist. Weak though they may have been they were strong enough for the job. Amendale was the biggest concern: shock coupled with critical dehydration meant he needed immediate attention or he wouldn't survive. Annette force-fed him a potion of Healing and washed it down with a sip of water, and then called Sybille over to keep giving him water every few seconds. Rhaine had a nasty bleeding lump on the side of her head that had narrowly missed the temple. Annette didn't give her a potion just yet, but removed the Doomguide's helmet and kept her head as still as possible. Forcing a potion down her throat would involve lifting her head, and if it was jerked the wrong way by the rock's impact it could mean spinal damage, which could easily be worsened with neck movement. She'd have to wait until Amendale was awake to get her the attention she needed. Arland, meanwhile, realizing that he could at least ensure no more injuries would be inflicted, stood up. Despite being pale, clammy and feeling very weak he walked purposefully over to Kalin and forced the Elan to look him in the eye. "If you're not back in your own head-" Arland growled, green eyes resentful and mistrusting. "-I'll gut you. Got me?" "Arland, leave him be." Sybille ordered. "He needs the warning." "I said-" Sybille's voice took a sharp turn and she looked up at him. "-leave him be. If he wasn't on our side, he would have killed all of our healers while he had the chance." Her tone left no room for argument. Arland stared at her, before poking Kalin in the chest. "I don't trust you." And with that, he sat back down beside Marie, who was holding her head in her hands and cringing. He shook her shoulder a bit and asked, "You okay?" "Just waiting for Nawen's potion to kick in entirely." She whispered. "I'll hold it together." She thought of something, and then, much more loudly, she said, "Thank you for the potion, Nawen. It's really helping." "Okay." Arland just sat there. "You watched my back pretty good. Thanks." "I'm still alive. I'll give you some of the credit for that." She responded. "You did as you promised." "Yeah, I guess I did." He smiled, before it faded. "I just wish Tak'We got out. That's a stlarning terrible way to go." Weyland heard him and sobbed. In truth, he feared that Tak'We wasn't dead yet, that instead his chitin had turned from a protective shell to an inescapable prison that trapped him and slowed his agonizing demise as the life was slowly crushed from him. He could only hope the Thri'Kreen died quickly. He sat down and curled into himself, staring blankly at his knees as he cried to himself. "Argyros!" Annette shouted up to the dragon. "You're hurt, but I don't think any of my potions would be compatible with a dragon's physiology! I'm sorry, friend, but we have to wait until Rhaine or Amendale awaken!" "I'm awake." Amendale murmured, hardly coherent. "I just need a few minutes." He was desperate for water, any water. His mouth and throat were dry as dust and his eyes were dry as well, quickly becoming crusty. But he controlled what he drank; if he went too fast he'd throw it up. He waved away another healing potion, however. "Rhaine and Argyros are hurt." Sybille informed him. "They need your help." Amendale didn't say anything, but nodded. It burned his throat to talk. Once he felt strong enough, Amendale got to his feet, but his knees wobbled and Sybille had to support him. He knelt down by the Chosen and quickly spotted the injury. He kept her head still and channeled energy into her, mending any damage to the skull, spine, and flesh. After confirming that Rhaine would be unconscious for a while, he shambled up to Argyros and placed his palm on the silver. He'd taken severe wounds from shielding them from the rubble; it took nearly every single inkling of power Amendale had to restore him, and even then he was forced to sacrifice his sorcerer's abilities to augment his healing ones, and he drained all but a small amount of power from himself, before looking around at the group for injuries, and coming up one head short. He looked at Sybille. "Tak'We?" He inquired, already knowing the answer. She closed her eyes and shook her head. As the triage finished up and everybody began to settle down, Sybille looked up at the dragon that had sheltered them from certain death. "You saved all our hides, Argyros. You have my greatest thanks. I'll try to find some way to repay you." With that said, she said down in the dirt on her own. With Azuris nearby, she tossed him a question to break the tedium. "Is every Doomguide's life like this, or are you and Rhaine just special?" She offered a weak smile.

Amendale, witnessing Zorica and Connall's struggle against the seemingly-endless tides of shades and other undead, watched in horror as one inflicted a ghastly wound to her back. Thinking quickly, he sent the owl airborne with a healing spell and prepared a spell that would destroy the weakest of the strongest and work its way up. The five seconds it took for him to cast Undeath to Death felt like forever, but when it hit the spell was immediately and completely devastating. With the magic meant for twenty feet of spacing concentrated into an area half that size, even the strongest of Saris's rotting and ethereal minions could not stand against it. Every creature felled did so with a sudden flare of golden light lasting only a fraction of a second before they dropped lifeless to the ground or disappeared. An entire slew of undead were slain in this fashion, giving Connall and Zorica plenty of breathing room even as the owl landed on the latter's shoulder with his spell, and the wicked lacerations that had bloodied her were no more, the flesh knitting itself back together until no trace of the grisly injuries remained. Zuir's attempts to tire Weyland were at first successful, but the warrior, used to such tactics (especially from agile opponents) quickly figured out his strategy and switched to fighting conservatively, using attacks that didn't take much strength to use such as jabs and pommel-strikes. Zuir was unfazed; with a wicked grin, he used some malevolent psionic power, one of his most powerful, on Weyland. Something so powerful it was almost sure to incapacitate his foe, leaving him open for a final, deadly blow... ...To no effect. Xallistine's amulet, the gift he'd given to everybody in the party, diffused the psionic energy before it ever reached Weyland. The pause from the time it took Zuir to form the spell, plus the shocked surprise that followed was enough for Weyland's blade to arc across the assassin's stomach. Gasping, Zuir clutched the wound- likely the only thing preventing his innards from exiting his body- and doubled over. Weyland darted to the side and brought his blade in for a downwards stroke that cleanly parted the Elan's head from his shoulders with a spray of crimson. He kicked the twitching body over. Arland defended against and deflected Kalin's soulblades with expert precisions and speed, but was still forced backwards towards the wall until finally, realizing what was happening, he dove to the ground and somersaulted just past the Elan, placing Kalin between himself and the wall even as Marie's arrows screamed through the air right towards their psionic foe with precise accuracy and at a brisk, haste-induced speed. With her arrows struggling to get through Kalin's defenses, Amendale had enchanted her entire quiver to pierce defenses both physical and magical, and suddenly they were punching through much more effectively. Any arrows that pierced Kalin' flesh now would do so nearly unhindered. With Valthanarax's sudden resurrection and Argyros's even-more-unexpected transformation into a silver dragon, Arland was suddenly distracted. Kalin's mindblade broke through his defenses and scored a wicked slash that- due to the psionic nature of the weapon- slid right by Arland's armor and carved a deep, severe gash from his shoulder that nearly carved a path over his jugular and across his throat, stopped only by Arland's jerk of pain at being struck. Marie doubled her firing rate before one of the blades flew right at her and buried itself deep in her collarbone, hitting her with such force that she was thrown backwards before the blade dissipated into thin air. Marie hit the ground, her head jerking backwards and cracking itself against a rock, dazing her and almost knocking her instantly unconscious. She curled into a ball, clutching her wound and gasping with pain. Arland roared furiously as he attacked Kalin again, his adrenaline and burning rage numbing the pain from Kalin's slash enough for him to keep fighting. "RHAINE!" The youngest Grey shouted. "If he's not knocked into himself, I'll KILL HIM!" With the wounds rapidly accumulating, Amendale charged forwards towards the center of the fighting and outstretched his arms, covering a large area with healing magic that both mended wounds and damaged what little undead remained. Sybille's battle with Che'Tak was not going well. He deftly evaded her initial strike and many swings that followed was either blocked or avoided. Her sheer skill with her weapon of choice was what allowed her to get in a few heavy strikes, but the mighty Thri'Kreen kept fighting with incredible speed and force. When she parried a blow from his gythka, it jarred her arms. At one point a blow slipped by and glanced off of her shoulder-plate with a spark; so close to her head that she heard the sound of it cutting air even through her helmet. It was immediately after this blow, when she went in for an overheard swing, that disaster struck. Che'Tak caught the weapon by the handle and halted it in mid-air before violently jerking it forward, dislocating Sybille's shoulder and sending her stumbling into his grasp. She was lifted off of her feet, shoulder screaming with pain, and suddenly Che'Tak's face was the only thing she could see; compound eyes a menacing milky white, startling and dead. No life in them, no glint of reflected light; just cold, dull, lifeless. And it scared Sybille more than any other creature she'd seen before in her life. It lunged for her, mandibles working mechanically even without anything to grab a hold off, like a jaw snapping open and shut, drool dripping from the mandibles. She pushed it back with all of her might, the pain from her shoulder becoming so unbearable that she let out a strangled gasp of agony, but it was too strong. Both mandibles pierced Sybille's neck, their shape letting them slip through the chainmail protecting it. She let out a hoarse cry of pain, gasping. She grabbed a hold of both of the limbs, trying to pull them out of her flesh. When that didn't work, she grabbed one mandible with both hands and wrenched it so powerfully that it broke cleanly in half into her hands. Sybille used it to stab at Che'Tak's face before it got stuck between two sections of chitin and pulled out of her grasp. She tried to break the other mandible, but her muscles weakened, she couldn't properly control her hands. Then she remembered that Thri'Kreen's mandibles were always coated in a venom that paralyzed its victims. Then Che'Tak threw her across the chamber, where her failing body landed painfully just in front of a pack of wraiths where she lay unmoving. Annette and Weyland witnessed this, horrified. Weyland steeled himself and sprinted full-tilt towards her, barreling through a skeleton and a bodak as he went. Annette tried to think of a spell, any spell, that would work. An arcane missile slammed into a wraith to little effect. And then Amendale's owl landed on her shoulder. Divine Might. The knowledge on the use and casting of the spell coursed into her mind instantaneously. "Use it!" Amendale ordered. Immediately Annette went through the proper motions, muttering the words she suddenly knew and moving her arms just so. And then she was blessed with enhanced physical strength and vitality. She drew her dagger; it didn't feel clumsy or useless in her grasp now, it felt like a weapon. The young woman sped past even Weyland as she rushed to aid Sybille, falling upon the wraiths like a hammer, Rhaine's as-of-yet unused enchantments tearing into them.

Amendale's eyes scanned the room sharply, taking in every threat he saw himself presented with. A considerable number of undead of approximately medium power, several powerful psionics, and Tak'We's massive- and undead- brother were the immediate threats, followed by Saris herself should she decide to join the fray. Che'Tak was undead, and as a result quite vulnerable to any attacks from Rhaine or Azuris, to Amendale took advantage of the brief calm before the storm in which Saris was speaking to quickly prepare a Psychic Turmoil spell, which he both cast and expanded with metamagic. The invisible field expanded to encompass an area at least twice its original size, sapping the power of any and all psionics in the area. Weyland gave Dri an encouraging one-armed hug, murmuring "We'll get through this." before kissing the top of her head. He brushed by her and again placed himself in front of the entire group, shield at the ready. Arland, meanwhile, was less than pleased. "What, you mean the one we just crossed half the Realms for's working for her now? Was he ever not?!?!" His twinblades, which seemingly had a sense of theater, flared brightly as his temper did. "Mind control, most likely." Amendale commented. "That doesn't look like mind control to me, it looks like he's out for blood." Arland snarled. "There are other ways to bend someone to your will." Amendale responded sagely. "You don't need to simply cast a spell." Arland didn't respond, but wasn't above muttering traitorous bastard to himself as he looked around at the other threats. Once the fighting began, Amendale erected a wall of fire in front of the horde of approaching undead, buying the group some time. Casting as fast as he could over the course of several seconds, the elf assaulted Che'Tak with a Feeblemind spell and finally called down a column of heavenly fire- the same he had used against Sana- and again increased its size, and then brought it down upon the hordes of undead, setting at least ten of them alight. Beside him, Annette began casting as well, movements unnervingly calm and controlled as she bolstered the group's natural attributes, enhancing everybody's craftiness and hardiness, before moving on to grant strength to the warriors and litheness to more agile combatants. Her gift for such beneficial spells clearly showed; they were considerably more powerful than identical spells cast by wizards who did not specialize in the field. "Stay close to Xallistine." Amendale ordered Annette, his features contorted into an expression of intense concentration. "If he is incapacitated, you stick with me." "Understood." She replied shortly. The fighting erupted in an instant. Weyland made to defend against a tide of undead creatures but Amendale's interference bought him time enough to instead rush Zuir, not intending to give the assassin time to put any poisons to use. He charged with his shield firmly facing Zuir, covering his torso and most of his legs even as the eldest Grey went in for two quick swipes from his blade, taking advantage of the assassin's light armor. He kept himself mobile and flexible, whilst keeping on the lookout for any dirty tricks he would have up his sleeve....no doubt an agile combatant would go for a flanking strike with a poisoned blade, and Weyland wasn't going to give him the chance. Sybille, with a dangerous flash of her eyes, completely ignored Tak'We's request and came in low and at an angle, bringing her maul in for a strike that would sweep Che'Tak's legs out from under him. "You're not fighting him alone!" She shouted to Tak'We, fearsome and determined. Arland and Marie both went for the same target: Kalin. The Grey gave an angry roar as he kept low and sprinted at the Elan, blades at the ready. Marie took cover behind a rock and fired arrows at him from a distance. A shot to his torso seemed to slow before it hit its target and then bounced harmlessly off what would have been his ripcage. Alarmed, she instead took aim at the inside of his thigh, the femoral artery. If if the arrow met its mark and wasn't quickly treated, Kalin would bleed out in minutes or less. As she let the arrow fly, Arland began a merciless, skilled assault against the Soulknife, chaining together blow after coordinated blow in a surprisingly disciplined attack that forced defending multiple different angles at- with the help of Rhaine's haste spell- an incredibly fast pace. He made sure to keep himself and Kalin two very different, separate targets so that Marie could provide fire support with her bow.

Weyland blinked as the Thri'Kreen that had been attacking him disintegrated before his very eyes, but he didn't complain. Looking around, he saw Dagny defending Nawen from attack and rushed to join her. Between his slashing and stabbing, Dagny's hacking and Rhaine's enchantment the zombified Thri'Kreen was quickly reduced to a corpse...again. Arland meanwhile leaped towards the creature attacking Tak'We and Connall and swiped it with both of his blades simultaneously, the holy enchantment on them leaving behind a golden residue in the shape of an X, which was quickly overlapped with a barrage of heavy slashes that, when combined with Tak'We's might and Connall's precision strikes, felled the creature quickly. Sybille, meanwhile, crowed with triumph when her speed was suddenly doubled and her maul glowed with Rhaine's magic. With the Thri'Kreen before her effectively immobilized by its injuries, Sybille took the time she was granted by her increased speed to prepare the heaviest, most powerful blow that she could. The hammer crushed the Thri'Kreen's skull and upper body, chitin and all, completely flattening it. "He's done alright!" She shouted with a laugh, before turning around to help dispatch the last one. She got a hit in, but somebody else took the final blow. With all of them dead, Amendale checked to see if anybody was injured before he cremated the remaining bodies with magical fire. "I'm sorry we don't have time to give them a proper burial service, Tak'We, otherwise I would see it done." He apologized. Sybille looked at Rhaine. "We goin' on through? Everyone ready to go through? If you need a breather, speak up now." Weyland was gasping for breath. "Just give me a few seconds, then I'm set. That last one almost got me." He waited until he'd regained his stamina, a process which only took a few seconds, before he looked at Rhaine and nodded. "I'm ready when you are."

Arland raced across the invisible bridge much more easily than he thought he would, though he still held the tip of his blade out in front of him and dragged it along the ground to make sure he wasn't about to plummet over the edge of the bridge to his death. Marie, lithe and nimble, made it across easily, followed by her sister. Amendale was one of the last across, beckoning a nervous-looking Weyland. "Oh, I don't like this..." The warrior commented, but he picked his way across anyway. "Afraid of heights?" Amendale asked, puzzled. They'd been up in much higher places before, even with the group. "If I trip and fall there's no saving me. That's what I'm afraid of." The elf just shrugged. They managed to make it across without any deaths, thankfully. When they reached the portal, the anticipation of the coming battle seemed to rear its ugly head again. Sybille felt nervousness wriggle away in her gut, while Marie was stricken with cold fear, but she steeled herself. She did, after all, have a sister she needed to be strong for...not that she thought Annette would need any encouragement. "What the-" Arland asked, before they stepped into the light. His eyes narrowed. "Oh, they don't look too friendly..." "Get behind me." Weyland warned, grabbing Dri and stepping in front of her. Beside him, Sybille had made her way to the front as well. "Someone keep an eye on the portal, make sure nothing comes through." She ordered, not talking to any on person in general. Suddenly the Thri'Kreen were rushing at the group from two separate angles, and the siblings barely put themselves between the onrushing undead and their fellows in time. Weyland dug his heels into the ground and intercepted the one on the right with his shield, feeling its gythka slam into the bulwark with incredible force. Sybille forced the second one backwards with a wide swing from her maul that the creature had to halt to avoid, lest his chitin do little to protect him from the sheer blunt force of such a heavy weapon. Not leaving an opening for the creature to exploit, Sybille used her momentum to bring the hammer around for a second swing, which it blocked with its gythka, stopping the blow in its tracks but nearly breaking the weapon outright. Taking this in stride, the Grey sister switched tactics and used the temporary stillness to her advantage by using the head of her weapon- caught on the gythka- as a lever to sweep the Gythka aside with the handle of her maul, and quickly followed it up by shifting her grip, stepping sideways and bringing the maul around for a massively powerful swing. It met its mark, the chitin doing little to protect the undead Thri'Kreen from the sheer blunt force of the blow. Pieces of decaying shell were blown right off its body and there were a number of loud cracks as the body underneath was crushed beneath hundreds of pounds of force. Weyland wasn't faring as well. Forced on the defensive by a series of rapid, powerful swings from his own opponent's weapon, he rarely gained the opportunity to get in a counter-blow and when he did it did little against the zombie's thick shell. It wasn't strong enough to stop the adamantine blade from cleaving through it, but it inflicting only light wounds that did nothing against a creature that could not bleed. And with his shield occupied deflecting blows he couldn't use it as what he had no doubt would be a much more effective weapon. Suddenly, an orange blur and then the smell of burning flesh announced Arland's assistance against it. Working his way behind it, the youngest Grey scored a series of blows in rapid succession. "I'm hardly getting through!" He shouted. "Tak'We, I need the weak points on these shells, fast!" He managed to work out a few spots of his own, but they were difficult to access. Only twice did he succeed in slipping a blade through the gaps between plates and when he did they failed to pierce anything vital...not that it would probably matter, seeing as they were hardly living. And then it caught fire. The dry, dead flesh beneath lit up like a torch and quickly began spreading across the Thri'Kreen's body underneath its shell. "They're flammable! THEY'RE FLAMMABLE!" He announced.