[The Sanctuary] Sanctuary Means Survival

[Elem Bree]

Sounds of screams and battle echoed through the chaotic scenery which unfolded before Elem's eyes. He couldn't hear them, however. His heart was beating like some crazy savage's drum within his chest, filling his ears with its ceaseless hammering. He was alive and intended to stay that way. His breathing was strong and audible as well, the stimulant coursing through his veins, giving him a perception and focus that he had never experienced before. He would have to find out what it was made from in the laboratory and make his own strain for later use.

He watched as Kavala took off into the darkness and the spikes with twin daggers in hand. Looking down at the crossbow that had nearly killed her brother, Elem knew that the time for shooting bolts into the air was over. Everyone else was out there fighting, maybe dying, for their home and he was hiding inside? No, it couldn't be that way. Dropping the quiver and crossbow, he reached for his hoe and pulled the dagger out that he had received from Serrif. Perhaps he really was a foolish gardener, but he could not always be that. these people were fighting for him and he had to do the same. Fortunately, any fear that might have driven him back was overridden by the stimulant's effects, his eyes wide and wild.

Stepping out into the darkness, he could sense the pain and injury from the thrashing Zith, his Gnosis pushing him to heal the creatures. Elem, in his current mindset, ignored that urge for better or worse. The Zeltivan would heal the vermin from the condition of living, their suffering at an end. First would be those hanging from spikes. A cold calcualation and knowledge of anatomy would send the blade into their necks, opening the large artery there so they could stop thrashing. When Elem stepped into the shadow of the spikes, he found it soothing and quiet; the darkness.

Until a power was unleashed. He couldn't tell its source as his focus was on murdering the survivors of others' attacks, but it was very strong. A crushing pressure of windpushed through the spikes, threatening to throw Elem from his feet. Instinct slammed the blade of the hoe into the earthen patches between the spikes, anchoring the man against the buffeting balst. Sand blasted his skin and eyes. He could feel the dagger trying to slip free from his palm in the cacophony of elements. Crouching to make himself a smaller obstacle to the blast, he waited for its end before pulling one of the slings he had looped around his belt.

With careful attention, Elem wrapped the cord around his thumb and then the handle of the blade, wrapping it in loops around fingers and palm, handle and steel, until the blade was securely fastened to his fist. The darkness and the drug whispered to him. He could see Kavala's toothy grin in the half darkness of the clinic in his memories.

Through her image, the darkness whispered, "Kill."

Sand was raining from the sky as he moved through the sharp columns of obsidian, the man possessed, be it due to trauma or something beyond his comprehension. A Zith landed between the columns before him, bouncing off one violently from being thrown by the wind. It quickly righted itself, folding its wings as it gripped some sort of club in its hands. Its red eyes peered at Elem in the darkness as it approached. Opening his mouth, Elem made some sort of throaty cry as he slung the hoe at the beast, who easily deflected it with its own weapon, teeth exposed in a grin of staisfied victory.

With no hesitation and wild eyed madness, Elem threw his body into the creature, its claws finding purchase in the gaps of poorly fitted armor. The pain of torn flesh only pushed Elem deeper into his state, his eyes widening with pain and instinct. The tied dagger came down with adrenaline and stimulant laden force, solid thuds hammering like the human's own heart. He thought only of putting the sound out of the beast's own ears, whatever the cost. The steel drove into its flesh, sometimes grating across ribs, as Elem moved up with the stabbing until he put those red lights out. Soon he was only stabbing wet flesh, the creature long dead as he continued to pound it with stab after stab, his face covered with its blood..

[Leo Varniak]

The day had gone better than he'd anticipated. He was still getting a feel for Riverfall and its citizens, paving the way for his eventual attempts at re-establishing an Azenth presence within the city. Soon enough, soon enough. It was already getting dark by the time he made his way back to the Sanctuary, expecting nothing more than a comfortable bed and an uneventful night. It might not have been much, but he was learning to live for the small things. Leo Zaital was coming to appreciate the limbo of his stay here, for as long as it could last. He caught a glimpse of movement around the Sanctuary a couple times and tensed a little, but at first he thought it had to be some wild animal closing in against the walls at night. Kavala had said they tended to do that, and it made the place unsafe for the horses. He'd never seen a glassbeak with his own eyes, and while he did not hope for a close encounter, he felt confident he could survive one if the animal hadn't brought a pack for company. Then - strangely - he spotted things moving in the air as well, which he was quite certain transcended the abilities of glassbeaks. He quickened up his pace, feeling nervous for the first time. Fear was but a memory of the past now, courtesy of the goddess, but that did not erase the tension of potential danger in the air, or its awareness. As he got closer to the gates, he noticed smoke rising from within and heard feral calls echoing in the night air. A winged shape obscured the moon for an instant. 'They aren't here to buy horses, this much is for sure.' He'd only been here for a few days, and could only wonder if this was a frequent occurrence around here. You could coat Cyphrus with a veneer of civilization here and there, but it remained a frontier at the edge of chaos. Leo's first thought was one of strategy - in what capacity could he offer the best help? He had to think it over, because his peculiar nature could mean a lot of trouble for friends and foes alike. His ideal battlefield was one without allies in it, where he could burn at his heart's content and not worry about control. A battle in one's own sanctum was pretty much the opposite of that. While he stood thinking about tactics and pre-emptive strikes and herding techniques and area denial spells, a Zith landed right behind him. Leo turned suddenly, only to face the creature, a sleek dual wielding female, charging at the unarmed, unarmored, distracted human. From her point of view, it was even too easy. In truth, Leo hadn't ever been in a real bona fide pitch battle. All his life he'd been taught to use his head and wits. A foe rushing him with swords was a pretty new sight to him. With no time to prepare a spell, it was all he could do to summon his weapon. "Ivlir!" he called out, and Ivak's blade materialized in his hand, sharp and curvy like a flame. The Zith was taken aback by this sudden development and stopped in her tracks. Leo viewed this as his chance and advanced on the creature, lunging forward to puncture her heart! But the Zith parried his feeble assault with practiced ease. Next thing he knew, her elbow came crashing into him and knocked him flat on the ground. 'Wow, you really suck at this', his father's voice resounded in his head as the pain exploded through his chest, 'you mean Ivak entrusted you with His blade and you can't even use it to save your life?' It was pretty much like that. Leo had always considered Ivlir more of a ceremonial blade than an actual weapon. It was quite obvious that would have to change, if he survived. Which he wouldn't, if the Zith had any say in it. The creature savored the moment of the kill, planting a leathery foot on his chest and raising her blades for the coup de grace. The humiliation of having to go through this, for him whose blood he shared with gods and kings, was too much to bear. The confusion instantly turned to rage as he formed Res inside his mouth, molding it around his tongue in the shape of a ring. He spat then, reifying the substance into a small air shockwave that flew true into the Zith's face and made her stagger away from him. A mere trick, something you came up with in the heat of the moment, but it gave him a chance to roll away from danger, clutch Ivlir and get back on his feet. He'd forgotten what bloodlust felt like. It had been way too long. All this helping others release their inner demons, let go of their burdens, while he himself kept it all inside... this creature had been most unfortunate. Most anyone else here at the Sanctuary would simply have killed her. She had picked one who had a terrible, physical need to vent out all the darkness he'd picked up along the way, lest he truly go insane in time. Leo watched her approach once more, more careful this time around now that she was aware of his magic. He felt the urge to simply burn everything. It was exactly the reason why he had used air instead of fire. He didn't know that he would be able to close that door if he opened it now. He knew it would be beautiful to blaze in the night. It would be glorious to bask in the glow of a miniature Valterrian, but no. Not here, with people so close by. It was almost physically painful to do, but he denied himself fire for now. He shaped more Res upon Ivlir, making it into an elastic appendix of the blade that extended several feet beyond the tip. Again, he repeated the same awkward attack as before, but this time he intentionally came up short. Instead, he turned the outer Res into air as he swung the blade, whipping at the Zith's body again and again. There was no skill or finesse to those attacks, but they certainly had the larger reach. With every whipping, a thin, vicious wound opened on the female's body. She shrieked then, driven mad by surprise and pain. Suddenly, she spread her immense-looking wings and sprang forward, knocking Leo down with her and landing on top of him. Her hot saliva dripped all over his face. Her swords abandoned in her fury, she was simply trying to claw his flesh off until he died. His new shirt took on a crimson tint as she squeezed him at the shoulder, making him grimace. But Leo managed to grab her by the wrists. He realized he couldn't delay it any further. He licked his lips, and his expression at that very moment couldn't have been very different from the Zith's. He forced Res through his fingertips and finally gave himself, just a little, to the fire. The Zith's hands, still in his grip, were set ablaze. She yelped and tried to shake herself free, but she wasn't quick enough. Her claws burned with the very remarkable stench of cooked meat. "Where you going? It's a feast and you're the guest of honor," Leo hissed, showing her the true meaning of heat. Infusing gnosis into the small flames, he multiplied them wildly. They also underwent a fascinating change, turning blue and then white as their temperature increased. The female's clawed hands melted with the heat, but all he felt was a welcoming warmth. He was home at last. He took advantage of her mounting panic to dislodge himself and force her on her back, reversing their positions. Eyes blazing, all philosophy forgotten, he was upon her in an instant. His hand snaked to what passed for a mouth in the Zith and he formed more Res. He had spoken true, as always. It was a feast and she was the guest of honor. He forced Res down her throat and began to ignite it from the inside. Smoke rose from her nostrils as she burned within, the fire quickly spreading to every part of her body. Soon he couldn't contain it anymore and had to multiply the flames with gnosis until they swallowed them both. One chime later, when it was all over, a pile of charred bones marked her grave. Leo stood, his new clothes blackened, torn and bloodstained, but marginally sated. He made his way past the gates and saw the chaos unfold around him. Fire burned, spikes of obvious Reimantic origin littered the place, dead bodies everywhere - all of them Zith, it seemed. He saw figures fighting it out in the arena (was that Vanator among them?), arrows flying everywhere, and little or no rational planning. By now it was clear to Leo that as long as the Zith had full aerial access to the Sanctuary, it would be extremely hard to repel them. A storm of air and sand slapped him with great violence, forcing him to cover his face. More Reimancy. He waved his arms, one still wielding the serpentine blade he couldn't use at all, and called out to the defenders. "Friend here! Don't shoot!" Sticking close to the wall to avoid yet another surprise attack - now that his uselessness in a melee had been made manifest - he tried to analyze the situation and find out if anyone needed him to do something.

[Razkar]

This was his beat. This was where his soul exulted. This what he had crossed an ocean to find. And as his body whirled and slashed and ripped and lashed out all around him, he knew he could do this forever.

Razkar was happy tonight. Very happy.

He was a constant blur of movement, moving from body to body, figure to figure, gladius flashing. To slow in this chaotic melee was to die, plain and simple, and he had survived enough to know that. Everything he saw was snapshots, frozen moments bathed in flame and shadow and blood.

A dark-haired human with a bow in her hands, eyes wide but face focused as she tracked and loosed at the Zith still circling.

Vanator, golden hair tossing around his head like a shimmering halo, decapitating a Zith with his ax.

The armored human hacking and slashing through downed monsters, clinical and precise as a trained soldier would be.

The human healer throwing himself onto the back of a Zith, dagger stabbing again and again and again until he was simply piercing dead, twitching meat.

Kavala, the architect and gardener both of this strange, deadly new obsidian garden, approaching a fallen Zith with twin daggers in her hands, eyes raging as the fires...

Razkar made for her but before he could aZith that lunged at him, only to be taken down in turn by a massive dog that came from nowhere, charging at its leg with an almighty growl, bowling him over. The creature screeched in anger and rage, arm raised to slam its dirk into the beast's back-

It never falls. Razkar slashes down vertically and slices the creature's throat open to its spinal column, spray of blood splashing him and the canine both. It lets go and without a word, Razkar dashes off.

The Zith are massing now, but still vulnerable. The Myrian moves quickly through the spikes and flickering shadows, gnosis on the back of his neck burning with bloodthirsty purpose.

He passes a Zith on its knees, arm speared by one of the ground-born spikes, and decapitates it as he goes, razor-sharp gladius making quick work of it, jogging onward without watching the head hit the stones.

A black, furred, winged shape appears in front of him, one of the creatures with a mace in its hand, back to him-

-he lunges just as it turns, gladius piercing its side. The mace keeps going, slamming into his ribcage and he throws back his head and cries out, hearing something break-

-and with an animal snarl brings his head jutting back forwards as fast as he can, slamming it into the Zith's face, breaking its nose, sending it reeling back-

-pulling his gladius free as it did, giving him an opening-

"For Myri!"

Ribs burning, side splitting, Razkar leapt forwards and plunged the gladius into the thing's chest. Its eyes snapped open wide in shock and it screamed wretchedly to the burning sky. Razkar twisted the blade but it would not free, would not come loose-

No time.

-so he stood, pulled his hand ax instead and dashed onwards. More people were arriving, bit by bit, and the latest was a messy-haired human who truly could not wield a dagger. But even as Razkar watched, the human extended the blade through some magic, whipping and flailing at the Zith attacking him, and then grabbed her wrists and...

"Goddess..."

He saw her clawed hands melt in his grasp. Saw her reel back with sheer terror naked in her eyes. Then he watched the boy - he truly was barely a boy - shove his hand down her throat and immolate her from the inside out.

"Friend here! Don't shoot!"

Razkar opened his mouth to speak when two Zith came upon him. The first ran forwards with dagger raised. Razkar dropped to one knee and swung his ax into its gut, sharp head buried in it's stomach, impaled upon it by its own momentum. But the second, on the left, kept charging, double-handed mace raised over its head-

-and coming down flush on the first one's skull when Razkar pulled it in front of the blow.

Screaming with something like loss, as if the comrade it had just killed were its lover, the Zith lowered its guard for a moment, eyes fixed in anguish on the caved skull as it fell. Then it remembered, saw a flash of movement from behind its dead kin-

Too late.

-and coughed up blood as Razkar slammed his ax into the side of its neck. He pulled it free, grinning as he felt neck bones grind against the blade, and a shower of claret covered him. The Zith collapsed to its knees, hands pressed against the torrent spilling from the gaping wound, eyes already fading...

Razkar moved on. No point waiting. But the sky was still thick with these creatures, and as long as they were above, they coulD still reinforce their comrades landing. Eventually, they would be overwhelmed. So they needed to cut off fresh combatants...

The Myrian began to jog towards the new arrival, the one who had so effectively torched that Zith female. He ignored the agony in his side, blocking it out as best as he could even as his jog turned into a limp, willing the human at the wall to turn, to see him.

And when he did, Razkar pointed upwards to the turgid, screeching skies and shouted.

"Burn sky! BURN SKY!"

[Kavala]

She didn't know how long she fought. Daggers clutched in both hands, Kavala swept the area around her, using first her left hand then her right to clear a path among the fallen and blinded Zith. It was a dirty trick, and one she had paid dearly for. The Konti could barely walk and would not be long on her feet. But while she still held consciousness close, she pressed forward, coming to a halt only when she came face to face with Leo and heard him shout that he was a friend.

At that point she dropped to her knees, let out a sob, and almost dropped her daggers. She didn't expect the Champion of Ivak to save them. She really didn't see him as that. Having walked his Chavi she saw only the confused and lonely and driven man. He was more mortal to Kavala than even the most air-headed Konti she'd ever encountered because she knew how he had come to be where he was and how blindly he was making his way in the world, forming his plans only as he went.

She mouthed a few words. Then paused, as if confused that no sound came out, and then tried again. Her voice was all but gone, though she did manage to utter enough sound to make what she mouthed heard. 'It's not safe." She said, still dazed, her eyes constantly moving, looking for attacks that did not come. She wanted her brother. She wanted Tasival. She wanted to lay down and sleep forever because at that point in time her exhaustion was so deep that sleep felt like a release. Death would be welcome. She dropped the daggers then, knowing she could no longer fight. And as she looked around one last time, her eyes sliding over Leo's form, she thought she saw Dira standing behind him laughing. Only Dira looked a lot like her mother - a long dead Konti healer. She lifted up her exhausted hand and reached for her, suddenly wanting the figure at Leo's left more than she wanted to rest. But there was just no more in her. She had used the well of strength inside. And as her consciousness faded, so too did the figure behind Leo. She pitched forward, flat, at Leo's feet with Zith grounded all around them.

The darkness was welcome. It was so welcome she even smiled before her ability to do even that was taken from her.

[Leo Varniak]

The sight was one his rational mind could not easily reconcile. The first day he'd been introduced to the Sanctuary, it had looked impregnable. An absolute defense. Safer than a mother's womb, more reliable than Syna rising every morning. It was clear now, if it hadn't been before, that safety was but an illusion. A band of Zith could erase this dream in the time it took a swarm of locusts to make short work of a patch of grass. The very symbol of the Sanctuary, Kavala Denusk, came out of the darkness wielding two daggers and a haunted mask on her face. He had seen that expression on a corpse before, a day or so after death when the muscles went into morbid rigor. Back then and right now, it was the expression of someone saluting Dira.

The Konti still had the strength to dance around the silhouettes of some fallen Zith, slashing at them as they clutched their eyes. Leo had just enough time to realize she had been casting too much Reimancy for her own good, when she was right in front of him, trying to speak. The champion blinked, too surprised to utter anything. There was a madness to Kavala, not unlike that of a prophetess of old being possessed by the numen of her deity. She looked at him and past him, perhaps already in the dream world she held so dear. She spoke of things not being safe there, and collapsed. All around the Zith were recovering from the effects of her spell.

Leo lost himself in her fallen form for a moment. She was breathing, but just barely. She had fallen asleep, expecting never to wake up. Just one woman and a motley crew of healers and temporary guests, but she'd arranged them into a fighting force that had been able to repel the invaders for so long. And her last thought hadn't been for herself, but a warning for him. It was incredibly humbling, for their gifts stood in proportion as a fish to a lion. The Zith, some of them wounded by her daggers, dragged themselves closer and Leo still did nothing. Someone screamed about burning the sky, and the words sank in and coalesced into a plan. He lifted his head and unlocked the first door of his heart - not all of them, just the outermost one. He released a modicum of his fury in a sphere around him, like a wind of the soul.

The approaching Zith stopped dead on their tracks, hissing but unable to come any closer. Their hearts couldn't take that kind of heat. They screeched and yelled and started circling around Leo and Kavala's fallen form. The Azenth clenched his teeth and prepared to defend the dream that was the Sanctuary. Some day, somehow, perhaps someone would shatter this dream, but not today. Overgiving had always made Leo extremely cautious in his castings of Reimancy. He had overgiven the very first time and it had turned him quite paranoid, which had slowed down his progress in the art. Suddenly he didn't care anymore.

He formed a ball of steamy-looking red Res between his hands and ignited its core as a smaller orb of fire. Weaving another layer around the sphere, he gave it the quality of air to preserve the fire across the long trajectory he had in mind. The flames grew bigger and hotter between his hands than he'd ever made them before. He felt himself being drained, he sensed tiny cracks forming in his very core. A thin line of blood ran down his nostril. His heartbeat had turned quicker and lost part of its natural rhythm. His peripheral vision was crawling with fractal wisps. And he still didn't care.

With a final grunt, he threw the ball of fire into the air with all the speed his mind could muster. It flew over the roofs of the Sanctuary, a flare, a second moon in the sky. Then, Leo locked in on the flames with his gnosis and his bloodshot eyes, and gave it the terrible order with the fullest extent of his power. Multiply. All doors were open now. What followed was an explosion. The fireball erupted like a volcano, turning night into day for a few moments. It flared in a ring of thunder as fire began to rain upon the Sanctuary. Fire, and Zith on fire. One crashed into a roof, only to roll down and finally land squarely on the ground, wings still ablaze. Smaller projectiles rained all over the place. Leo wondered if he hadn't overdone this, but by now the euphoria to cast more was gnawing away at him.

Zith were aerial, nocturnal beings. With their mobility in the air taken away from them and their losing the cover of darkness, this might just turn the tide of the battle. If those who fought on Sanctuary's side had even the slightest notion of what war was like, they knew the chance had come for a...

"Counter-attack," Leo whispered, eyeing the grounded Zith with the red mist of battle in his overgiving eyes.

[Vanator]

Every panted breath rent searing pain through his chest, drew the stench of blood and burning wood in through his flared nostrils. His muscles ached, the iron grip on the haft of the bloody ax unable to release even if he willed it. Vanator teetered on the edge. Not of consciousness, nor of the ability to go on. As he battled the monsters, he stood on the brink of becoming a monster himself.

Like flood waters bursting apart a breached dam, hatred, resentment, regret and darkness washed over logic and caution. Vanator craved to wreak revenge for every wrong their race had perpetrated against him, the murder of his beloved wife, wrenching him from his family, stripping him of his pride and enslaving him like a pet and a breeding animal, twisting his own desires. And now the attack on his home. They had hurt Kavala, his only family now.

Spattered with blood from his matted mane to his crimson stained boots, smeared with gore, Vanator stalked through the forest of spikes hacking apart the attackers, many still stunned from Kavala's driving gale. Though his mail turned aside many of their their blows, the Drykas was not invincible. A female opened a gash in his thigh with a nicked scimitar, a quick-handed male smashed his cheekbone with a femur club. But the pain only served to clarify Vanator's mind, a point of focus to maintain consciousness and drive his ever waxing bloodlust. Severed heads, limbless torsos, writhing creatures lie scattered in is wake.

Though his will still compelled him to go on, his body protested. Exhaustion, blood loss, and increasing pain were taking their toll. But he saw Kavala, through the spires, he glimpsed his sister collapsing to her knees. Kavala..No! They were not done, she could not give up. She had fallen before a man, Leo, the stranger she had taken in, and the Drykas found some relief that he was with her. Vanator grunted and drive himself forward, towards the two in the open courtyard. But a large male landed in front of Vanator, flashing a feral grin. The Zith swung a wooden club at the Drykas, the ax lifting too late to block the blow. The weapon struck Vanator in the head, and with a blinding flash, he staggered before collapsing to his knees. The Denusk's ears rang as he struggled to shake the daze, the ax raising instinctively in defense as he looked up at his assailant.

There was a brilliant flash that blinded him again, accompanied by a loud boom. Vanator had thought the Zith had struck him again. But the blast faded to reveal the Zith standing over him, eyes cast upward. The night sky was alight with fire. Bodies and debris, engulfed in flames, descended upon Sanctuary. The Zith distracted, Vanator swung the battle ax horizontally across the male's legs, cleaving one knee and mangling the second. He struggled to his feet, his hand raised to protect his aching head from the fiery rain that fell upon attacker and defender indiscriminately. He could not make out from the dimly lit shapes moving through the stoney columns if any of Sanctuary's defenders were near. He didn't know who called down the fire, not believing Kavala had such command of that element. It didn't matter, at this point, Vanator only had one goal.

Like a wounded olidosapux, Vanator lumbered towards Kavala and Leo as the lower register screeches of the burning, falling Zith filled his hears. A female jumped onto his back, trying to draw a serrated dagger across his throat. Van grabbed her wrist with one hand and reared back until he slammed her against a stone pillar. He repeatedly crushed her against the column, his head jerking back to smash against her nose and teeth, which ripped at his scalp. Finally her grip loosened, and as she fell to the ground, Vanator stomped on her head until her skull cracked.

Finally reaching the edge of the spikes, Vanator began to run towards the man and woman. The firestorm had wrought havoc on the Zith, grounding them and impeding their vision as fire blazed everywhere. A Zith impacted the ground in front of him, its wings charred, its fur in flames as it writhed in agony. Van raised his ax to cull it as he passed by, but halted the strike. Let the thing burn.

He continued on until he reached Kavala and Leo's side. Though he worried for his sister, Vanator could not help to look upon Leo. The young man's countenance was unlike anytime he had seen him before, possessing such intensity, exertion and intangible power that it gave Vanator a moment's pause. He had summoned the fire.

The brother looked down at his sister. "Kavala." The man uttered the word through battered lips, an almost mournful sound. Vanator crouched by her side, his hand reaching to stroke her sweat soaked hair, before pressing a finger to her neck. The pulse was still strong, and he sighed in relief. The Denusk man stood again, shooting Leo a grim look, but there was deep gratitude in his weary gaze, and respect.

[Razkar]

The flash was so blinding and fierce that for a moment Razkar was certain this strange newcomer had dragged a star from the sky to truly incapacitate their winged attackers. Then his eyes slid open slightly and he saw it was a ball of impossibly hot flame, white and spinning and-

Giving birth.

"Goddess..."

Eyes widening of their own accord, he could just stare as the night and shadows were banished in seconds, entire breadth of Sanctuary scourged clean of anything dark at all. Above them, dozens of Zith were cooked and scorched and set alight and tumbled shrieking from the skies. Dozens of others were blinded irrevocably by a brilliance their nocturnal eyes were simply not made for.

When the flash ceased and the shadows returned, Razkar knew they would never get a better chance than this.

"Kavala."

In the brief and almost deafening silence that followed, Razkar heard that one word, spoken low and with fear and loss. His head whipped around, ponytail flailing, and he saw Vanator cradling the pale woman who had healed him earlier. Her name was Kavala. The fire-master was standing over them both, eyes pitiless and glowing as he surveyed the screaming and stunned Zith still twitching around them.

Razkar decided in a blink that Kavala was well-protected by the Drykas. Good, a voice in his head his rather than spoke, time to end this.

With an incoherent howl of rage, Razkar hurled himself back into the midst of whatever winged adversaries still remained. Now was not the time for honorable combat or glorious battle: now was a time for extermination. The second sun had broke the back of the Zith attack, and already Razkar could hear retreating winds carry across the night air.

But they were not finished yet.

"FOR MYRI!"

A Zith with scorched retinas turned at the sound, but could not see Razkar's ax swing into its head in a diagonal swipe. Half of his face was carved away, smeared across the sand in a flurry of teeth and blood and shattered bone. The Zith was dead before the rest of its body joined the viscera, and Razkar had already moved on.

A roar of angry bought his eyes snapping to his right, where a Zith with its wings aflame charged at him. He parried the blow to his midsection but a length of fire-soaked feathers scorched his arm, making his bark in pain. The Zith jerked its head forwards into his face and the impact made Razkar stagger.

The flaming, dying creature raised its sword with a snarl, eyes screaming the words, If I must die this day, I will drag you down to the hells with-

Razkar did not give him the chance and buried his boot in its crotch.

The thing doubled over, snarl turning into a squawk of pain. Razkar rallied and bought his ax crashing down in a vertical arc on the back of its head. Brain matter splattered across him and the Zith was thrown down, already dead-

Two more blows, until Razkar was satisfied, and then he dashed onward.

They were rallying, slowly but surely. The defenders of Sanctuary were taking a toll on their attackers, blade and blow cutting down the disoriented Zith. Razkar saw flickers and flashes in the shadows and light from the flames, the assault of the monsters stalled and faltering.

A black, groaning shape detached itself from his left and without thought he slashed at it, opening up a ragged gash across its chest. The Zith screamed and swung blindly, but Razkar dropped to his knees next to another body-

-the same one he'd shoved his gladius into-

-he gripped the hilt and ripped it out with a bark, adrenaline lending him strength to free it from the cadaver's chest and into his left hand-

-as his right swung horizontally just above the Zith's ankle.

It screamed yet again in pure agony as its foot came away from its leg, spurting blood and it fell backwards. Razkar barely gave it time to hit the sand before he leaped across it and stabbed the gladius downwards over and over again until its torso was naught but perforated meat.

Blood was all he saw now. Screams of dying and desperate assailed his ears and they wer as music to him. The Myrian straightened and saw a fresh rank of the Zith falling and forming, perhaps their last, for there were no more shrieks from the sky or flying shapes.

The fire-master had killed more in a moment than Razkar had all night, and more importantly, he had turned back the Zith. But a shattered few survivors still wanted make a fight of it.

Razkar smiled, teeth clotted with blood as a pair of the Zith saw him standing over two of their kin, daggers and sword raised as they charged him.

He had mere moments, but that was all he needed. Razkar raised his weapons, gladius in his left, hand ax in his right, and whispered words meant for a queen on a bloody throne, thousands of miles to the west.

"In your name, my Goddess, my Queen, I do make offering this night."

The Zith to his left thrust at his belly with its sword, and he batted it aside with his gladius, leaving it open-

-when he slammed his ax into its breastbone, burying the ax head deep into bone and flesh and heart and lung, if he was lucky. But the blade was caught, wedged in the wound, and much as he heaved, when the Zith fell backwards, he was dragged forward with it-

-arm extended for when the second one slashed him across the arm with its dagger.

Razkar screeched in pain as a bloody red gash was cut up his arm, fingers falling from his hand ax, eyes snapping to the hideous, enraged visage of Zith, bathed in firelight. Though blinded, they adapted and healed quickly, handful of survivors determined to finish what they had started.

The dagger reversed in the Zith's hand and drew back-

-only for Razkar to pivot to his right, swinging around the gladius in his left hand-

-and impale the Zith through its stomach, half-a-foot of sharpened, scarlet steel emerging out the creature's back. Its eyes popped open in disbelief and pain, blood dribbling from its mouth, head jerking forwards close to Razkar's mouth-

-as the Myrian snarled and lunged, teeth clamping around the things nose and lips, twisting and biting and ripping backwards with one savage movement-

The Zith tried to scream, but only a bubbling, frOthy mess came out of the space where its mouth used to be. It fell to its knees, ruined eyes seeing the impossible shape of this dark-skinned, blood-soaked savage spitting out what used to be attached to its face.

Then it turned back to him, pulled its weapon from its chest. The Zith tried to breath, to fight, to react, but it... it couldn't...

Razkar took its head off with a flat horizontal swipe.

[Leo Varniak]

He recognized Vanator as the man advanced through the Zith horde, dispensing death as he went, paying no heeds to his wounds. The madness of brotherly love was pushing him on with the drive of a hundred men, and he did not stop until he was finally by Kavala's side. The Drykas established what Leo already knew - that the Konti still lived, but the arcane battering she had taken on this night would stay with her for a long time. Leo looked him over briefly, surprised that he could still stand with the amount of punishment he had taken.

But the fighting hadn't stopped just for them. Leo glimpsed figures in the flickering lights of the fires, fighting savagely for the Sanctuary. With the attackers losing morale as well as mobility, they were likely to break soon. This had long stopped being a hunt now, and the Zith did not seem to be as good at outright war. The next course of action was to turn a narrow victory into a crushing one, so that the enemy would think twice before seeking revenge…

… a swooshing sound alerted Leo to the danger at the very last moment. The throwing dagger - a crude thing, and yet probably too advanced for the Zith to have crafted themselves - had his name on it. He had made the same mistake once again, letting his machinations distract him from battlefield awareness. He dove out of pure instinct, but it wasn't enough to dodge the weapon altogether; it cut a long gash across his upper arm, blood oozing profusely from the wound. The knife ended its path right behind him, the blade gleaning with Leo's blood. Only his last-second maneuver had kept it from embedding itself in his chest.

Leo was like the mages of the stories, going into battle lightly armed and even less armored. Ill-suited for the frontline, yet it was exactly where he found himself right now. A low grunt escaped his lips as he stood, clutching his arm. It was a minor thing next to Vanator's own injuries, but it still stung a great deal and set Leo's spirit truly boiling. How dare these lowlives, mere insects crawling out of some manure hole, shed the blood of gods and kings? They were dust and wind, grotesque dolls, worthless husks… and now they were going to pay.

"Take care of Kavala," Leo rasped in Vanator's direction. He advanced in the open, consumed by the inner storm and the mounting euphoria of overgiving. He thought he could see a savage figure not far away from him, chopping and slicing at the Zith with an animalistic fury that put the winged creatures to shame. Leo squinted, finally locating the monster that had thrown the dagger. It was a smaller male, lean and probably low on the pecking order. It had more than one dagger, as well. It balanced a second blade in its clawed hand and threw this at Leo, who had seen this coming and quickly formed a cushion of Res in front of him, making it into air. The dagger was deflected just enough to the side that it swished past the Azenth with nothing more than the threat of a hissing sound.

Before the Zith could reach into its belt for another dagger, Leo stretched his Res towards one of the fires raging in the courtyard. Manipulating the existing fires was far easier and more cost-effective than making a new one. The flame surged and crawled, as if possessing a will of its own. It left behind a snakelike trail of blazing hotness as it surrounded the Zith and trapped it against a wall. Then he fueled the fire. With it came the smoke - there were so many ways one could kill with fire. Sometimes it truly seemed to have been designed for that very purpose. The Zith choked to its death amidst great suffering; he was denied even a warrior's end.

His fingertips bleeding from the overgiving, Leo thought he could see a few retreating shapes in the darkness, leaving on foot through the open gateways. The Sanctuarians could likely chase some of them down, but in the end it would be best if a few Zith managed to escape and tell the tale of how they'd been brutally exterminated on this night. Even an animal would know that some preys just weren't worth it. One could only hope these beasts possessed enough intelligence to add two and two.

OOCShall we wrap this thread up before the kill count climbs to drunken tale standards?

[Kavala]

Kavala was blissfully out of it, beyond pain and beyond terror, comfortable floating in the nothingness of unconciousness. She wasn't alone however. In her mind she was standing on her Chavi, viewing what was transpiring around her as she could not view it as a living breathing mortal.

Another Konti stood beside her, striking in the similarity the two women shared. "This is the first time...." Kavala said softly, the woman beside her turning to catch her attention. "... that I've ever had to give so much to protect what I've worked so hard to build. It's scary how much I want to live, to see all this through, and how much that wanting to live costs the living." Kavala said, turning to her mother. Ay'aka Denusk nodded.

"All life comes with a cost. Sometimes we will choose to pay it, sometimes we will let fate take from us what we will because the cost is too high." The woman put her arm comfortingly around her daughter admits the battle and watched as Vanator lifted Kavala's body to him, then saw to her safety. The Myrian was holding his own, even as the Champion unleashed his fury.

After a long moment, Kavala spoke. "Is this it then? Am I dead?" Her mother laughed and shook her head.

"No my daughter. Somewhere out there on the grass, a tendril of the web still connects The Sanctuary to the main web of Cyphrus and you are simply enjoying being Drykas because of it. Your spirit is sheltering in the web as your body decides if it will live or die. I think it will live. You have too much to come back too. If you died though, you'd be safe, here, with me. Though I doubt that is to be your destiny. You were never really mine, Kavala. Just like Akela was never really ours. You both were destined to walk another pathway. You belong to Nysel and she worships her blades. Have you ever looked at her chavi? I'm curious to know. I suspect way back when... and have suspected that before the war between Alahea and The Suvan Empire, she was one of the great weapons mages. I knew it the moment she stole Echaelon's dagger when she was but two months old and stuck it in Vanator's forearm. She could barely grip a toy but that dagger was a different story. I knew you would be more than a healer too, in the same way I knew she was more than someone's wife. Someday Akela will be following the will of her living blades. I've seen it. And someday you will be walking in people's dreams and changing their lives to better suit their needs. Both of you have so much to live for. And both of you are so different...." The Konti healer and seer said, gazing at the battle all around the two ghostly forms.

"The tide is turned..." She said abruptly and Kavala looked, and saw it too. The zith that were remaining were fleeing. They were gone almost before Ay'aka said the battle was changing, retreating from the wrath of the Sanctuary employees and from the heavy toll the well thought out defenses had taken.

The facility wasn't unscathed though. Buildings and wooden structures were torn down and burned. Most of the chickens were gone. Two cows lay dead. No pigs or geese were left, and one of Kavala's prize Denusk foals lay bleeding to death in the arena, with no chance of help from the one person that could have saved the colt's life. The main arena was ruined with spikes sticking up to the sky. Most of the sand in the arena was gone, vanished on the wind and gone stolen out to sea.

A strong Earth Reimancer would be needed to right the place and set the spikes back into the sand, righting the facility back to its previous condition... and that reimancer wasn't indeed Kavala, not for the time being. As the wingbeats of the zith vanished, and the cries of the wounded were suddenly heard, there was nothing left to do but drag the bodies into a pile, fire the pile whether the creatures on it were living or dead, and get everyone back inside to be seen to by the healers that were still on their feet like Elem and Iris.

[Razkar]

It started with screaming, and ended with screaming, though the latter time, it was not from horses.

Razkar's blade stayed in mid-air as the Zith ahead of him took flight as one, as if linked by some hive mind. All around Sanctuary he could see dark, flapping shapes take to the skies, not even casting a backward glance at the flames and devastation they had wreaked.

The Myrian panted and watched until they grew smaller against the darkness of night... and then were gone.

Only then did his blades lower, and the rush if battle began to ebb from his system. Knowing it of old, Razkar swallowed heavily, guessing he had mere chimes before the full weight of his injuries were on his shoulders.

And he had much left to do.

In the eerie silence following the battle, broken only by flitting, urgent figures, the braying of terrified animals and the crackling of new flames, he glided like a ghost from corpse to corpse, kukri in hand. He remembered, though everything else was as hazy as the smoke that clung to Sanctuary now... he remembered all of them. He always did.

Razkar went from corpse to corpse, head to head, and took the scalp from each of the ones bearing the mark of his ax and gladius. With each additional trophy he collected, stuffed into his belt and warming his waist, he felt the smile widen across his face.

Thirteen. Thirteen lives ended, warriors bested, sacrifices made in the heat and rush of battle

"No..." he whispered to himself, turning to a gasping figure "... fourteen."

The second to last Zith he had killed that night was... well, not killed, for one thing. But close to it. Razkar saw his ax bob and sway as the Zith breathed in and out, traitorous arms refusing to move it away. Blood pooled from its mouth and even a cursory glance told the Myrian it's time was coming.

But not yet.

"Myri... cast eyes on your son this day."

He straddled the Zith and let his legs collapse under him, knees slamming into the mortally-wounded creature's shoulders. A new spasm of pain ripped through it as the ax was ripped free and a crushing weight was on its ribcage. Razkar let it see the kukri in his hands as the words ground out from between bloody lips.

"Feast though your warrior on this gift I bring."

The Zith shuddered and spasmed as it felt the hole in its chest widened, ripped anew by the razor-sharp short blade. Razkar looked down at it in disgusted victory, the mix potent and unnatural, even for him.

"Goddess, I bring you victory."

Another agonized gasp as a rough hand was forced into the wound, closing around the faintly beating organ in its ruined torso. It couldn't close its eyes. It wanted to, gods, it wanted to... but all it could do was watch-

"I bring you souls from glorious battle. Goddess... I bring you blood."

-and in a blind spike of pain, its world crystallized and ended all at once. He saw a black, pulsing organ ripped free from its chest, raised high to shimmer in the glare from the bonfire. It gasped out the rest of its life force and watched the... thing straddling him a grin, and raise its eyes and blade and bloody trophy to the sky.

"I, Razkar of the Shorn Skulls, fulfill my vow, and pledge myself anew."

Razkar feasted amid the bodies and the blood, lit by the flames and ignoring everyone else around him. The pain would come soon. His ribs, his back, the slices on his face and his arm. But that was for the future.