Against the Night

[Xavier Akafur]

The cacophonous  sounds of blazing flames and exploding magic filled the air now, and Xavier's fist as it met the assassin's ribcage just added another sound to the mix, the sound of grinding bones. The rapier thrust almost struck true, the man's sword reach exceeding the hybrid's fist by a good several feet. Luckily, the battle-practiced mage was prepared for exactly such an attack, and had used his free paw to deflect the sword with an open palm. The shielding light prevented the blade from simply piecing through his paw and reaching his heart, but it only deflected the blade enough that it slid cleanly and painfully through his shoulder instead. The assassin's body clenched up from the blow, immediately coughing blood onto the ground from the impact, and he began to slump over, his sword pulled free by the weight of his collapse.

The bolt of magic struck him then, unimpeded, and he felt the life force drain from his body. The magical constitution that held the otter-wolf's unnatural body together unraveled slightly, and the color drained from his face. He fell to his knees in front of the assassin, seeming suddenly frail and mortal, the super-physical presence of his being diminished to a whisper. The extravagant coat covering him was left with a smoldering hole burned through the back of it, and the magic ensorcelling his paws winked out as he gasped for air.

The group of now-shrunken soldiers looked around in great confusion as their perspective suddenly shifted, the world seeming to grow around them. two of them completely lost any will to fight right then and there, simply dropping their weapons and running towards the nearest tree line as the now giant-like fox growled at them. The other four hesitated, but seeing his magical energy start to grow even stronger they backed up several steps, all of them hesitant to rush forward but not entirely fleeing the battle. However, as Camille stood up beside the kitsune they began to take steps back, clearly on the losing side of that battle.

Neshar's whirling attacks left little room for counter-measures from the flustered archers, who dropped like flies around his teleporting dagger-strikes. Suddenly, though, he found himself unable to teleport as he entered the radius of the central forces. The magical energy that transported him through the shadows would conjure, but it simply had no effect, and felt as if it were being drawn away from him in an instant. This left him standing amidst the main force of enemies, and though three of the four archers lay dead, the fourth was out of reach, and had an arrow trained on the downed otter-wolf some hundred paces away.

The assassin that Mort briefly held clawed at the hand around his throat in futility before he had the life crushed out of him.
The remaining assassin facing the bully was suddenly cut down at the knees as Drake's summoned sword slid off of his dagger and cut out his legs. The assassin made a last ditch effort as he fell, throwing his dagger at the fox-coon face as he hit the ground. He wasn't dead, but neither could he move beyond crawling, his legs severely damaged by the magical sword. Like Neshar, Drake would find that the magic he summoned to throw at the archer pooled in his hand, but was whisked away in an instant. Much more visibly than Neshar's shadowy abilities, the flames whirled through the air and into the front of the shield held by the charging enemy commander, who seemed to gain a burst of speed and energy as it did so. His sword as well suddenly flickered and vanished in a blur of shimmering energy, also being sucked into the shield. It was but a moment later that the line of soldiers came crashing into the fray, and Drake could see that devastating mourning star come swinging for his chest with supernatural speed and power, the man swinging it grinning wickedly as his magic-siphoning shield began pulling the fire away from Mort as well.


Two of the magical bolts that were aimed for Mort and Drake stalled in the air about twenty feet from the fray and were suddenly pulled into the shield as well, further fueling his magically-enhanced strength.

[AJ Fawxe]

Micah watched as the two soldiers turned and ran from him, with the others backing away slowly. He was very pleased that all the targets were overwhelmed by his magic. Hearing the sound of another person approaching the kitsune turned quickly, staff held aloft. The figure he faced was an ocelot, though he didn't seem at all hostile. It was clear, however, from the feline's expression that he had no love for the more mystical foxes such as himself. When he confronted him about protecting the-'anu' did he call him?-his face became awash with a look of incredulity. When the feline issued his threat the fox jabbed him softly with the end of his staff, though no energy discharged from it. "Do not speak to me as if I am yours to command, as if I am indentured to your group." As the feline disappeared and reappeared distance away he growled and shouted after him. "And DO NOT! THREATEN ME!"


The fox watched him spring into the fray some distance away and cursed softly in Sylvan. Looking over towards this 'Anu' and watched him approach. Eyeing him up he seemed not at all aggressive or displeased with him as the thief was. Arching a brow his way he considered his words, but there was a flicker of movement. Turning to face the source of the movement he saw the remaining shrunken enemies retreat from the two of them. Turning back towards the Jackal he shrugged softly, "Most may not, but they did. Do you know what that Ocelot's problem is with.. well, my kind? Seems a bit prejudiced." The fox normally wouldn't make small talk in this kind of situation, but the battle seemed under control.


Unfortunately, just as he began to relax he felt some shift in the flow of energy around him. Quickly sliding his goggles down over his eyes, he looked around in a very erratic manner. Finally he found the dissolving magics and where they gathered at. Realizing the implications of this phenomena he sucked in a quick breath and turned to the jackal, placing a hand upon his chest. "Please trust me," the Psychic closed his eyes and his mind filled with visions and feelings of grace and health and should the jackal let him, healing magic would surge into him. It wouldn't bring him into peak condition, but the worst of his wounds and pains would be eased and he would feel better. "You will need that health for this.."

[tangletail]

The theif’s brow quirked as he noticed he didn’t fall into shadesmere like he had intended. His eyes drifted down to the energy that was being whisped away from his body, and fade away before it lead to anywhere significant. Neshar allowed his concern to slip his mind as his eyes fell back onto the last archer. He noticed he wasn’t focusing on himself, and quickly followed the soldier’s aim to… oh dear.
 
It seems that the group’s leader was about to be executed by a firesquad of one… and his current condition worried the male even more. The theif wasted no more time as he flicked the daggers at his last enemy. The first one quickly slammed into the archer’s hand that was holding the blow, the weight alone would be enough to throw the aim off. The second one slammed into the archer’s head, ending his life immediately.
 
 The theif rushed up and recollected his weapons before returning his gaze to the battlefield. The thundering noise of storming soldiers quickly drew his attention, and before long he spotted the commander running out. Fueld by what looks like rage, and magic… he pretty much powered his way into the fray.
 
 Neshar cursed to himself as he weighed his options. Fighting badasses like these were nothing new to him. Common crap he ran into while fighting for the sergals in their war. He had his tricks to reduce their effectiveness to a manageable level. But… Xavier was also a huge liability in his current state. His death would mean a lack of reason for this group, and make his current agenda that much harder.
 
The feline clicked his tongue… the choice was obvious. Save the otter thingy.
 
The feline quickly rounded around, and charged down the field. The lack of his magic was an inconvenience… but luckly it’s supportive nature prevented it from being a crutch. Neshar was still an experience thief with or without, and that was easily seen by the male’s swiftness as he tore across the field.
 
 It didn’t take him long to catch up with the line of soldiers, where he was now bouncing from head to head to get to the front. After bounding off the last head and touching down, he rolled back to his feet. He kept low as he darted forward. Just as he was near enough…
 
 “DRAKE! BACK UP, NOW!” He snarled out. The only warning he was going to give him as the feline bounded over the Commander in one leap. His body was twirling in the air midway through a summer salt.
 
 Two different projectiles flew from him. The first one, midway through his arc flew out at lightning speed… but it was only a rock. The thief was expecting the man to block that one. The second just before his back touched the ground, was quickly thrown out, aimed at the commander’s feet.
 
 Just as it struck the ground, a charcoal cloud erupted out of the hand sized ball. The cloud also seemed to shimmer a bit… which was a product of the ingredients used. The feline… might have some suppressed sadistic feelings towards life. What were the ingredients of this blinding powder? Severely hot dried powdered peppers, toxic herbs, rust and aluminum, finely ground glass, and some extract from poison oak. Of course this twisted concoction wasn’t designed to just irriate the eyes… but all mucus glands (eyes, nose, mouth, and ears). Open up small cuts, and agitate them along with existing wounds. Irritate the skin, and force the victim to suffer poisoning later in the day.
 
After the feline recovered, he quickly darted his way to Xavier while calling out to Drake, “Hope that helps!”
 
It wasn’t long before Neshar had Xavier hefted onto his shoulder, where he then carried him out into the forest.

[Cyril]

"Do not touch me with your false magic. I don't need your help, nor do I trust the way it feels." He snarled as the new figure approached and touched him, the jackal backing up after the other's advances. His ears perked and his attention was diverted towards the rest of the fight. His teeth bared as he raised his bladed gauntlets up once more. "I'll deal with you, later." He growled sharply at the psychic before running to the absolute havoc going on around Drake and Neshar. His gaze sharpened upon the shield of the commander after seeing his blows, breaking into a quick run towards drake before his armor weakened and shattered before he even reached 5ft away from the commander.



Frantically darting back, the jackal bit his lip as he was exposed in his robes. Still in the fray, he panicked and gasped while jumping back and luring some of the commander's back up away from him. He turned his gaze to the grouping of weakened soldiers tailing him, catching glimpse of Xavier and Neshar also fleeing. After a fair amount of distance, the jackal sighed lowly as his cloak returned, gulping lowly and hardening it into a wall behind him while he slowed his run. He panted lowly for the second the soldiers were confused before he took his stance.


The grouping was definitely not a large once, and though they were able to step around the wall, enough time was bought for the jackal to envelope and wrap the men in it. Squeezing and crushing while their wails and screams rang through his ears. Siphoning the force from their early ended lves, his beads glowed once more and he exhaled as he healed over the cuts and stabs he'd taken while fleeing. His dark eyes looked to the commander, though he bit his lip after glancing at the shield, looking away shamefully. His focus was brought back after a sharp stab his side, an inhale while his gaze fell upon one of the weakened assassins on him. He knelt and snarled out angrily, tears forming in the young canine's eyes as the blade sunk deeper and the former glory of an assassin knelt beside him. He gulped and sputtered whlie the assassin prepared a final blow to his neck. His ears sunk and the cloak hardened once more into the previous dome shape it had taken. He whined for a second before he shattered the dome, impaling the man with the material and healing himself over on the side of the battlefield. Forced to be an onlooker, he wiped his eyes and grunted as he rubbed his blood stained side. Gulping quietly and exhaling as he stood; physically out of energy but magically juiced.

He reformed his armor, and though he looked in the direction Neshar and Xavier had headed. He looked to see if the shield had been dealt with before coming too close, not drawing too much attention while he stood and waited, hoping Drake and Mort had already taken down the large foe.

[Drakeyboy]

Drake had nothing he could do. Everything was layed out for him. Because he was telekanetily throwing himself at the assassin with his magic he would simply get flung into the legless torso and get launched away from any danger. The dagger that was thrown though would catch Drake's calf as he unintentionally exited the fight landing on the other side of Mort from where the commander was coming from. Drake would be very shocked and panicked. Literally as good as a peasant farmer right now in this fight. And begin crippled because the dagger in his calf it's not like he could run dispite him badly wanting to. All he did was draw his dagger and hope for the best.

[Goblin Cat 😸]

 The bully was taken aback by the large man's shield, mostly due to the fact that the fire he'd whisked around him had been sucked in along with other spells from what he could see. Even the shards on his knuckles began to quiver as the man drew near, the blood bourne weapons finally faltering to their natural liquid state, dripping uselessly to the ground. It was alarming to say the least – not only had he not expected such a thing, but there was a large amount of blood outside of his body at the moment that would be lost if he didn't begin a retreat.

 
For the first time since the whole ordeal had began, the terrier took a few steps back, drawing as much of his blood inward as he could – there was no way to prevent the loss of some of it, but it was nothing compared to the amount he'd lose if he charged forward judging from the effects at play. He had no idea what kind of magic fueled the shield, but he was certain for the moment that he needed to avoid it long enough to get his blood in order. He could fight without his ability, but not if he lost over two pints of blood and fell into shock in the process.

 
With his sights falling on his fox-coon comrade, the bully wasted no turning and dropping his weight in order to scoop under Drake and tackle him to the side – if he was going to retreat, even if temporarily, he needed to remove Drake from the direct line of fire – he only hoped that the thief's powder would be enough of a distraction to allow him enough time to do so. It sure as hell had to be doing something to the commander given that it was beginning to irritate his cuts just from where he was standing... Something that wasn't helping his predicament with drawing in his blood.

[Xavier Akafur]

The arrow whizzing into the ground several feet to his left didn't even seem to register to the mage, his focus entirely on resisting whatever dark magic had afflicted him. There was little else he could do regardless, his strength had been sapped dry. Xavier grunted as he was picked up, his feeble resistance to the act fading as he realized who had scooped him up. Neshar must've been stronger than he looked, as Xavier wasn't small by any means and the thief was carrying him with some speed. His vision was swimming, but he retained enough clarity to see the line of soldiers crash into the fray, and the suddenly retreating hellhound diving away from them. A few magical projectiles chased them into the trees, but their aim was poor and the spells simply scorched and blackened the earth and foliage around the pair, never truly threatening to hit them. Xavier heaved a sigh on the feline's shoulder, his paws glowing with a weak light as he worked to reverse the damage to himself. Already his vision was clearing, but it would be some time before he could truly fight again.

"Neshar, why would they not send him in the lead charge?" The hybrid inquired weakly, finally taking note of the magical energy that was being pulled towards the enemy leader. The hybrid couldn't make sense of why it seemed wrong to him, or why he had asked that question out loud. He couldn't think straight.


---


The mourningstar bit into the ground with a resounding WHUMP, sending dirt and debris flying as the sheer force of the blow left a small crater in the earth. The armored man snarled angrily, lifting the weapon back up and shielding his eyes from the stinging concoction that had blinded him so easily and made his attack him its mark. The smoke burned his lungs and stung at his eyes, and he could even feel it burning his skin where it was exposed. One of the men nearest to him must've felt the sting of this stuff as well, he could hear him screaming nearby, though he dared not open his eyes to look.  He staggered out of the cloud, coughing and waving his weapon from side to side in an attempt to clear the air and ward off any attacks that came his way. The magical power of his shield was counteracting whatever damage had been done, he could feel it healing him, but the same could not be said for his men. That was a vile trick.




As his breathing returned to normal and he no longer felt the stinging cloud around him he opened his eyes and whirled around, making sure no foes were bearing down on him. Nobody was nearby, and he even saw that the canine he had expected to rush him had pulled some dozen paces away with that mage in tow. His three remaining soldiers were chasing them, making sure they could not easily escape the area where his shield would stop their magic. The jackal, the one designated as their healer, was standing a good distance away watching them, the strange fox not too far from that spot. The others were nowhere to be seen, and the commander growled in annoyance, making a gesture with his hand in the air.

The remaining mages came out of cover then and gathered in a group behind him, outside of his magic-negating range but close enough that they were not left unprotected. Half a dozen robed individuals clutched at wands brimming with necrotic energy, all of which turned against the fox and the jackal (the only ones whose line of fire was unobstructed by the commander's shield) and fired at once. Six dark, pulsating energy bolts came swirling at the pair.


For his part the commander just charged after the fleeing hellhound and fox-coon, quickly regaining the distance put between them with his magically-enhanced speed. He could not afford to let that mage use his magic again, it was too devastating.

[AJ Fawxe]

The fox looked on as all turned to chaos before him. The hybrid who seemed to be at the core of the group was left crippled by the magic. Micah was left with the feeling that something about his being was severely disrupted by the anti-magic effect. Thankfully, the foxes own unusual state of living was of a spiritual nature. This benefited him in two different ways given the circumstances. The fox's own life was not disrupted by the anti-magic, which was fortunate. Were his connection to be disrupted he'd lapse into a coma, one he more likely than not would not wake up from. The fox pondered for a moment if he would be able to possess another were his body properly destroyed, but dismissed the thought.


The second benefit of his unusual, spiritual state, was an uncanny resistance to negative energy and death magic. Holding his head up high and taking a deep breath he flares up his own spiritual aura and weathers the worst of the attacks. Not all the spells hit their mark, and not all the ones that do so much as phase him, but he does grimace from the taint of necromantic energy about him. "What awful filth.. I wonder if I could encourage the commander to stay and disrupt them some with that shield." As the mages waited for the dust to settle, the fox dashed into the woods and reached out just long enough to yank the Jackal into the brush. "If you don't want my healing, then fine, but at least don't die," the fox whispered as he zipped further through the woods. The commander was easy to follow, and the Fey blood in the kitsune helped him guide through the brush and around the trees.


Once the fox was certain he'd have the time he stopped and waited till he was just far enough away to summon up the most powerful magic he could currently access. The fox was not stupid enough to launch a spell, but perhaps.. The fox started to transmute the spell energy into something else. Something different, but familiar to the psychic. "You really ought to pay attention to the real threats.." the fox muttered as the spell energy focused into his mind. It was a shame he wasn't paying attention, the fox wasn't sure if how strong his mental defenses would be with his mind so thoroughly engaged, but this would be an experience to learn from.


The fox's marks flared as he refined the energy and focused it as strongly as he could. The fox outstretched a paw and pointed his first and middle fingers at the commander as he continued his pursuit. His hand twisted sideways and what came next, only the fox and his target would experience. A surge of psychic energy shot from his finger like a silent, blazing arrow made of blue, spectral fire. This was, however, only the image that the fox attached with his manifestation. When it struck him, the sensation would be like no other. Not a drop was spared on merely dazing or fatiguing him, all of the power was devoted to raw destructive power and it would flow through his mind and down his nerves like a crushing wave if he was not able to focus himself enough to fight it off.


(This is, of course, assuming that you allow the manifestation to bypass the shield. If not, then he stands, he points, and nothing happens. Yay! Time to go hurl spells at the cannon fodder.)

[Drakeyboy]

Drake's eyes widened seeing Mort charge for him. He knew he was a ally but it was still very intimidating seeing the large brute charge him. Eitger way he let himself get scooped up and grunted as he felt Mort's shoulder hit into his ribs. Soon after he would look up and see the commander leave the black cloud waving his sword around comically. Which gave Drake a glimmer of a idea. He would grab onto the knife stuck in his leg and rip it out. He knew it would be painful but he would need it sooner or later, preferably sooner.

[Goblin Cat 😸]

 “Keep moving,” Mort snarled at the foxcoon, small triangular eyes scanning the area for anything of use so that he was at least not without weapon – a feat that was easier said than done as the edges of his vision stung, a sensation still remaining from Neshar's powder. The damned theif. There was only so much protecting he could manage without risking his own hide, he could only hope that Drake could keep out of harm's reach for as long as he could distract and intercept. Even if there weren't many places to go, it would be better than remaining a stationary target.

 
It seemed that everyone was helpless against the large commander, including the hellhound, as the man was upon the terrier faster than he could have ever anticipated. Any distance he put between himself and the commander was immediately closed thanks to the man's speed and at the rate the droves of men moved behind them, the bully was running out of places to go. Running was useless, not that Mort had been a fan of it to begin with. Still, he had no intentions of surrendering – not unless they took him against his will.

 
Reaching out to one of the bodies, the canine snatched up one of the rapiers – it wasn't his axe, but it was surely better than nothing at the rate he was moving. He turned on his heel and dropped his weight with grit teeth, hoping to catch the commander by surprise as he charged, planting his shoulder in the man's hip and scooping under his legs to attempt to take him down to the ground. Again, the canine worked more to disarm than actually inflict damage. If the commander was on the ground, that was time he was spending not swinging that morning star and perhaps time that would allow the terrier to either use the rapier to inflict further damage or allow his allies to engage.

[tangletail]

“Yes… yes… ask the subordinate thief a question about strategic questions,” Neshar sighed with sarcasm as he continued to haul the Otter into a safer location. Once he was sure he had time, he came to a hault, and set the man down with his back against a tree. Though he made sure to keep him in a manner where he couldn’t be seen so easily.
 
“Two guesses. Either they are treating it like a siege, where you test defences first before sending out the big guns. Or they really didn’t expect to have so many losses. Either way, something tells me that shield came from the adventure crew before us. If that’s ture… they got more badasses bunkered somewhere.”
 
The thief then called out softly in a bizzare language, which sounded like something conjured by the whispers of a madman. Perhaps the reason the thief was able to speak something so evil was he that he really didn’t think about more than a tool. But, the bizzare language did conduct a response. A creature larger than a bear stalked out on six legs with the main shape of a feline. A feline if two sickly looking tentacles poking out of its foremost shoulder blades was natural. Another noteworthy detail is one of it’s middle legs had been wrapped in a bandage.
 
 He continued to speak to it, and when he was done. The creature nodded softly, then lowered it’s self to it’s haunches. Neshar looked back to Xavier with a nervous expression.
 
 “Alright… listen carefully. If you don’t know what a displacer beast is, it is a lawful evil **censor** murdering nightmare cat with a sense of honor. I had two, now one favor from it that I had not used. That firstone is to cover you while you recover. If you are feeling ballsy, make a request with the favor I am giving you. But please… for the love of the nine… be careful. You offend it, and when that favor is up, it may turn on you. But ah… don’t if you don’t have to.”
 
 With that the feline was off again. He had taken a moment to pilfer a weapon from a corpse. A Great sword… that will work. With his new weapon, the thief hurried back into the fray, moving in to flank the commander with the weapon in hand.
 
 And if Mort was successful in knocking the male over, the feline would waist no time in hopping in to lob that damned shield arm off.
 
 If not, the feline would have to resort in carefully taking his swings to not hit the bully. Oh how he loathed large weapons for this innate problem. Of course, if Mort wanted a trade, the thief would be more than happy to obligue.

[Cyril]

"I'll die if I want." He snarled towards the stranger as he was yanked, only submitting to after a bolt of dark energy shattered his armor around him for the third time in this battle. He panted angrily while he then recovered in the bush. His beads quivered against him, low on energy but not quite sapped yet. Still staggering, he snarled and lashed a bit. The young fellow's long hair now getting in his face. He exhaled and gathered himself together, looking towards the fox. Partnered in regard to having awkward magic, he lunged down and conjured a wall of his light material in a blink of darkness to shield the psychic from any other blows from the mages. He exhaled and held it together for some time, his eyes peering for Drake amongst the fight. He understood that there was the commander there, and he couldn't approach with the mages up to fire at them, and was relieved to see Mort grasp and carry him on a chase.
"I can't brawl with that shield and his alliances active. We need to shatter them, with something or another." He grumbled towards the psychic and looked around to find where the thief and Xavier had gone. He eyes focused on the commander who the fox had drawn towards them. He gulped down and kept his wall up for as long as he could, sapping his magic down bit by bit while this occured. After some time and the fire had slowed down, it shattered down to his shards. He launched back his own militia of sharp pieces at the group. Several fizzled out from the protection, but due to the nature of his magic's creation, two hunks of material were able to hit into the sides of his men.

The sharp chunks then consequently faded into bright light, leaving the wounds inflicted to bleed out while the jackal looked to his counterpart and then to the commander. His dark eyes fell upon the psychic, and he exhaled lowly and brushed off the sides of his bloodstained robes. "No healing should be done without sacrifice. Without balance, users become impure." He grunted lowly while he reformed his armor for what he hoped would be the last time in this fight. Smaller, and mainly around his torso and his arms, it would be easier for him to regenerate and hold together through the antimagic. For the time, he stayed with the fox in order to peel off anything that'd try to hunt him down. And with a drifting gaze and his head uncovered, it just now became clear how young the jackal actually was behind his robes. Blunt gauntlets braced, he prepared to brawl whether or not it'd be the commander or one of his men who found himself near the pair. "I'm not Xavier, but I can tell you our distrust is based on past experience. And for someone who works with the light, I'm did not leave the court to die in shadows."

[Xavier Akafur]

The hybrid slumped against the tree, but he had enough strength and wits about him to keep himself propped into a sitting position at the very least. The necrotic magic had done some damage to be sure, and it was nothing superficial, but spared from the immediate threat of that anti-magic field Xavier would recover swiftly.

Neshar simply received a nod, the mage's eyes only opening to inspect the strange beast that appeared, but closing soon after. He did not intend on invoking favors that were not his to take, and certainly not from a displacer beast. Xaier had no personal experience with them, but one heard stories.


"I'll be fine."


-----


Magical bolts continued to pelt at the area where Camille and Micah were huddled, though the jackals magical shield and the kitsune's inherent resistance made them little more than a deterrent against moving closer. The trees around them were taking the brunt of the damage from the magic, as the wildly aimed bolts struck at the forest, turning lively green trees into withered husks and blackening the grass and bushes into ash. Camille's shield held against the assault, allowing Micah the time required to focus.



---

Focused as he was on killing Drake, the commander was still not so unaware that Mort's sudden turn caught him off guard. The bully may never know that, however, as just at the moment he turned the bolt of piercing psychic energy fired from the trees struck the armored man. His magical shield clearly was not designed to combat psychic energy, a rare form of magic that was difficult to counter with traditional means. His form went rigid as his brain was wracked with violent, destructive power. It still would not have been enough to bring down the titan, not on its own.

Mort struck, then, though, plowing into the commander's legs with a low sweep and lifting him up in a bull rush. The stunned officer could do little to steady himself, and in fact was barely able to comprehend what was happening to him as his senses tried to compensate against the psychic attack, sorting real pain from phantom. His mourningstar went spinning to the ground, thunking heavily into the dirt with the handle sticking up at a tilt. He desperately hung onto the shield as he hit the ground, though it did him little good as Neshar arrived at the battle. The first swing of the great-sword simply cut into his armor and arm, leaving him wounded but not entirely limbless. The shield, however, fell from his grasp, laying lamely in the grass, his fingers to weak to clutch it.

He seemed to struggle, but in the end he could not recover enough to move. Instead he laughed. "Well... done..." he choked through the psychic haze of misfiring nerves. "but..... point......less." One could almost sense the defiant grin in his words.

[AJ Fawxe]

Micah was prepared to summon another manifestation and did indeed preparing another one until he saw the bully, the thief, and-was that a Displacer Beast?-charge at the commander and drop him to the ground. Breathing a sigh of relief he looked back at this strange jackal, his words seeming contradictory and ludicrous to the kitsune's ears. "My psychic powers are channeled through my faith, my healing magic comes from the purity of my faith in my mother, Inari Okami." The fox turned to face him fully now, the commander seeming to be unable to shake the three on one assault, disarmed and pinned as he was. "Further.."


The fox seemed as if he was ready to have a rousing discussion, but suddenly his eyes caught sight of the beads and he seemed stunned and confused. A few seconds passed before his forehead creased with concern. 'How had I missed this? I was so close to him, I touched him and I hadn't noticed this.. this..' The fox reached for his goggles and dragged one lens over an eye slowly. When he got a clearer look at it that was when he was certain. The flashes came again, and this time they were very potent.


An ornate chamber. Various occult tools. His marks being placed. Robed figures. Then there was a blinding light and the feeling of his body heating and feeling as though it may catch fire. The vulpine psychic sucked in a quick breath and took a few steps back. "Don't speak to me about purity.. You're no healer.. You're a Necromancer." The fox spat the last word out with anger and disgust, but it was obvious from the look in his eyes and the tension in his frame that beneath his disdain was a primal, instinctual fear. Though the fox did not know why it set him on edge, there was a good reason. "Your idea of sacrifice is taking the last shreds of life from the dead and dying and giving it to others, calling it healing.." His left handpaw tightened and shook. "You don't want me to heal you with my false magic? Fine. You keep those accursed things away from me.." The fox broke his gaze to look over the jackal's shoulder and then slowly moved around him, keeping a good distance between them as he went to finish off the remaining mages.


'What was that?' the fox wondered to himself as he crept through the woods. He occasionally looking back to make sure the jackal wasn't following him. 'Necromancy is widely considered a more questionable art, I know that. But I.. maybe..' Micah sighed in frustration as he caught sight of the mages and slumped against a tree, using it as cover in case they detected him and sent more magic his way. "This has to have something to do with that day.." With the feelings fresh in his mind he took a deep breath and channeled his feelings into his magic. Pressing deep into his mind he bent the borders between mind and body and siphoned bits of his intelligence and channeled it into physical strength. As he came out from behind the tree to confront the last spellcasters he released a second spell. His hands crackled along his staff as he channeled energy into it. "Let's see what you've all got.."

[Goblin Cat 😸]

 The bully, not having expected to succeed with his reckless tactic, was taken by surprise when a swift blade swung just close enough to his head to make him uncomfortable. Thankfully, he hadn't been the target, he realized, when he caught sight of who was wielding the sword. Seeing Neshar with the blade in hand did very little to comfort him, however, and it showed when he snarled at the thief, “Damn it, watch where you're swinging that thing!”

 
Without waiting for the thief to make another strike, Mort clamored over the commander, quick to retrieve the morningstar that was suddenly available to his right. Again he exchanged weapons – the rapier for the morningstar – still not his axe, but once more, better than what he had. He'd only caught part of what the commander was saying, not that it mattered as he drew up the spiked weapon and brought it down hard on the man's helmet. Talk was cheap, and in all honesty, the bully's patience had worn thin from many elements of the situation. He drew the weapon up another time and swung to the side, landing a hit on the shield hard enough to kick it up out of the way for the time being. After that, the canine continued to swing the weapon, striking over and over again until he was sure that the man was dead, and even then he continued to take out his frustration, seemingly in a frenzy until he finally came to a stop, panting. Blood dripped from his knuckles and he swayed slightly. Although he had managed to draw a lot of his blood into himself, he'd still lost a lot, and it was clear that without his magic, he'd been fatigued.