(2025-05-08) The Rescue of Solari Farrens (Red String Game Fight)

Details

Author:	Athena
Summary:	At long last, the strings that have tied and bound both Almeiria Fey and Lathrik Dinnsfield into a web of connections, have been pulled to the center of a conflict years in the making as a team formed of friendship and love take on a powerful Void user known as the "Shadow Man" to end his imprisonment of Solari Farrens, and once and for all break his hold on the one he calls Valendra. Action and Personal Plot RP. The conclusion of the Red String Game Fight. 30k~ words.
Rating:	M for Mature 17+

Arc: The Red String Game

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violence, gore, characters in distress, character death (not permanent), NPC death (permanent)

On the western side of the loch, there is an uncanny, sharp delineation between the sweet smelling firs and bright rocky Highland outcroppings and the dark corruption of the Twilight’s Hammer, the earth itself bathed in unnatural midnight. The sun is setting behind our heroes, sliding behind the mountains of the Highlands like a child playfully covering her eyes in preparation for a bout of hide-and-seek. Appropriately so, as this team uses the sinking sun to hide their advance over this side of the peaks to slip into the edges of the Twilight Cultists for their ruse.

The gryphons hold in position after releasing their precious cargo, waiting for the druids to retrieve them once everything else is in place. These are the Wildhammer’s most steady of battle gryphons, lent to Sir Atley the Red and Shine by personal favor for their deeds rendered to the clans. They are silent, as they watch their riders descend down the path.

Our plucky adventurers' goal is a single small, poorly manned (though these descriptions are unrelated to the fact that the lone Twilight cultist there happens to be a gnome) camp along the edge of the loch, out of sight from either tower post. The gnome elementalist is swiftly dispatched by the advance silent scouts. Here are the paraphernalia to gather up as desired, paperwork written in mad hands, half gibberish, some in the language of the Old Gods. Purple flickering lanterns hang motionless in the still, stale air.

It’s here that the first part of this ruse plays out, as the “prisoners” fight amongst themselves – the blows from Oslynn already delivered – creating enough of a show of beatings to pass an inspection without losing their fighting capability. The blood shed is fresh, the bruising forming, and yet still healable – for now.

Natalyah is probably stifling within her outfit, the enchanted robes worn beneath the heavy Twilight’s disguising ones, and the lepidopterist already in her worgen form. But if she’s sweating, there’s no way to tell with that silken black fur. She hunches over the dead elementalist’s table with one hand to hold her balance as she watches the fighting conclude, hovering near Lathrik – only metaphorically for now as her foot remains on the ground. Her expression is difficult to read on her worgen face, but that is likely only to her benefit here.

Aszera keeps her face down, huddled in the cultist hood and robe, with a faint green glow coming from underneath to illustrate that she's an ordinary sin'dorei cultist. Nothing unusual to see here.

Lena, in her own cultist outfit, watches the 'prisoners' hurt each other with a cold and blank expression. Very carefully so. She may be practicing for the performance.

After all is said and done, Dane stands battered and bruised, barefoot in loose cloth pants and a tattered, sleeveless shirt. His exposed right shoulder shows off the brand of the Stormwind Lion burnt into the muscle of his shoulder from years prior. His lip is split down the middle, nose broken, left eye beginning to swell. Strong, thick wrists are bound behind in front of him, arms toned without flex.

Despite his sour, grim look, due to either the unpleasant place they find themselves in, or the direness of their current deed, he carries himself like someone who’s withstood these injuries before and is well acquainted viewing the world through the painful lens of fresh damage. His knuckles are dark with the marks of recent blows. Dark hair is slick back, tucked behind his ears, giving it a mane-like appearance with his connected beard.

Shun takes up the rear of the group. His normally partially obscured face is now completely hidden with his new disguise. Parts of the robe he wears has been lightly damaged, with some blood splattered onto bits here and there.

Estel finishes disposing of the gnome's body and returns to the group. She is dressed - over top of her leather armor - in cultist robes with a mantle that features excessively large shoulderpieces, an obvious symbol of leadership.

Bertrand's borrowed cultist attire has been singed with lightning from Thunderfury, Blessed Blade of the Windseeker, and he wears the blade in question on his back. His face is fully hidden by a mask as well.

Siamus and Shine stand a little distance from the “cultists” among the other “prisoners.” Siamus has his head tilted back to stem the flow of blood from what is almost certainly a broken nose, to judge from the slightly new angle of it and the bruises forming beneath his eyes. His hair is matted with sweat and his knuckles are bloodied. He is laughing quietly at something Shine has just murmured to him, and in general looks pretty pleased with the world despite the damage and the bindings around his wrists.

His shirt has been cast aside in the dirt, and his pants are filthy with dust and torn at the knee. The lack of shirt has exposed not just the giant kraken tattoo across his right shoulder, from his back to his chest, and the smaller tattoo of a compass rose in a wreath of flowers over his heart, but also a pair of old scars: a jagged slash low across his left ribs, and a strange, ugly band of livid scar tissue over an inch wide, wrapped around his left bicep. There are bruises across his ribs and back.

Shine still wears his own shirt, but it is filthy and has been torn open enough at the right collar to reveal a world of old scarring, including at least one old, puckered bullet-mark beneath his collarbone. There is a neat, sharp tear in the shirt and a spreading sheet of blood on his back beneath his left shoulder, thanks to a well-placed cosmetic slice. His lip is split and swollen, the skin over one cheekbone split as well, and blood smears the side of his face. He is barefoot, and like Siamus his knuckles are split and bloodied.

He is also without his eyepatch, and keeps his face turned away from the rest and tilted slightly downward on that side as if to conceal the sunken, empty socket, the ragged margins of torn skin, and the scars that rake the orbit above and below. He does not look especially pleased with the world, but apart from that telltale cant of his head, he maintains his straight, military-sharp posture.

Fray is sporting several fresh bruises and cuts, and blood is smeared over his face and chest even where there are no wounds. It's like war paint, probably. The cloth tied around his arm is bloodied too, hiding the purple rune beneath. His large sword has been passed off to Lathrik, who carries it alongside his own sword and shield and looks considerably weighed down as a result. Thanks, dad.

Lathrik himself is dressed in the purple plate armor found on many of the cultists and fallen paladins in the area, his face fully hidden by the helmet.

As for Almeiria, she looks very at home in the Twilight ensemble, as if she's been wearing it all her life and was born to do so, pulling off the disguise with such an eerie accuracy that one could be forgiven for wondering if she is not, in fact, planning to deliver them all into the hands of their enemy and abandon them to their fates.

Natalyah looks Almeiria over. "You look as if you've been wearing that all your life, and like you're planning to deliver us all into the hands of the enemy after a successful ruse." She arches her left brow high. "Which means you're either a fantastic actress… or a fantastic actress," she quips.

Estel snort-laughs. She, at least, finds this funny.

Shun grunts from the back.

"It wasn't my suggestion to do it this way," Almeiria says, smiling sweetly. "So remember that, at least."

Siamus glances over to eye Almeiria with gleaming amusement. He is also finding this pretty funny for a guy with a freshly-broken nose and his hands tied behind his back.

Shine doesn't look at anyone. He is not giving off Amused Vibes.

Dane grunts from the front.

"Okay," Estel says to Almeiria. "What's my line if I get stopped? 'Prisoners for Cho'gall'?"

"Ugh, no, do not invoke that creature's name," Almeiria says, lip curling in disgust. "If they show up in the middle of this, we are all dead. From what I could tell on the way here, the entrance to the Bastion itself is at its pinnacle. If we were seeking Cho'gall, we would either be requesting an audience, or powerful enough to access the Bastion itself — which is far too dangerous to attempt."

Almeiria lifts her chin, an example to Estel. "No, for our purposes, Estel, dear, you are in charge. We are taking these prisoners to extract any useful information, then bend them to the will of the Masters. They will know despair, and when we are through, they will revel in it. These prisoners will become a weapon. Our weapon. Only once they are ready to serve, to return the world to its true form, will they stand before Cho'gall."

Lena's expression is icily cold — she does not look amused. Then she smiles, and the effect is entirely more cruel-looking than usual for her.

Aze's expression is irrelevant, shadowed as her face is in the hood.

The veil of amusement has dropped from Siamus's expression, and he is watching Almeiria intently, listening.

Shine glances expressionlessly at Lena, his head still tipped awkwardly. At her smile, he looks away again.

"Okay," Estel says. "But if they ask where the prisoners are being taken to, is there a specific location I should name? Or should I just frame it like you did?" She is clearly not in character yet, but the group has seen her drop into character very quickly before.

In the back, Shun stands very still. It's hard to tell where his attention is currently.

"For the record, if you need to 'abuse' any of your subordinates to make a statement or example, I can take it," he offers Estel.

"Be vague, but be confident. Dare them to challenge your authority," Almeiria says. "If it comes to a fight, the last thing we need is a bunch of lackeys knowing where we are going. Let them assume. And, if any of them should become too nosey, I will handle them."

"I, too —" Fray begins, but Almeiria swiftly levitates high enough to shove a gag in his mouth, binding it tightly behind his head.

"You are being muzzled, because that voice of yours will carry across the lake at your usual volume," she explains, for once.

"I know you can, love," Estel says almost absently to Shun. Then, seeming to realize they are in a very large crowd of people who have just learned something about the two of them, "If the situation calls for it, I'll keep that in mind."

She nods to Almeiria. "Vague but confident. Can do."

"I can also chip in with the arrogance, if needed, to force our way through," Aze offers in a quiet voice. "I think it would be expected, from someone like me."

"I can show them my teeth," Natalyah offers matter-of-factly. "But I can't take the Shadowform to hide any better than this shape. Although, I suppose I can — " She doesn't finish explaining the thought as she tips her head back.

Even in this dim lighting, something happens within her pupils of her brown eyes, tendrils that reach out from the center and crowd outwards over the entirety of her sclera. Now, in the worgen's eyes is an unnatural blackness — where to stare into her eyes is to look into the Void itself, endless shadows that an unwary person could fall into.

Lathrik has acquired a new passenger ride along.

Dane flits his gaze between them, looking grim and weary, but his rigid posture suggests a shape readiness as he listens.

Shine steps closer to Siamus and turns his head to murmur something close to the other man's ear. Siamus, still watching the 'cultists' make their plans, nods once and straightens; his expression is abruptly one of seething defiance, his black gaze molten with fury, his head lifted arrogantly.

Beside him, Shine's own posture sags abruptly, the military carriage shed, and he half-stumbles into Siamus's shoulder and leans there, head down and weight unsteady.

Estel turns to face the others. "Okay," she says. "I'm gonna be an awful cultist now." She swipes a hand in front of her face like she's playing a child's game, and when her hand passes by she looks a lot less friendly and a lot more haughty. "Enough dawdling," she scolds the team. "Get the prisoners moving, now."

Natalyah, proving that she would be a terrible minion, bristles visibly at even the fake ordering, but all it does is make her look even more threatening in her worgen form, as she drops again to the ground, getting into position of the middle of the group, as per her Deal with Lathrik.

Their pathway is easier from here, already scouted and mapped: they are to skim the edges of the western side of the camp, putting themselves closer to the twisted spire of the Bastion, the only general sense they have yet had from Fray’s connection to Solari to indicate her place within the stronghold.

As they round the sharp corner, they come into view of their first test of their ruse: the western watchtower.

Like the Eastern Tower, there are but two watchers, one per floor. The bottom tier is occupied by a corrupted cultist, this one a troll with broad shoulders and a mohawk that might have once been a source of pride, maybe even joy, but now sticks stiffly with lime and dark, old blood, neglected in his madness. His leathers are stained but studded with dark glittering gems, his wide, wicked edged machete wielded with fast twitches of muscle as he yearns to shed more life upon the tainted ground he patrols wildly.

Above him is an unnatural stillness of death and warped movement of elements: a forsaken woman – her eyes covered by straps – and yet something in her is able to see, to occupy this position of watcher. The earth crawls over her corpse, sands shifting along her legs like snakes, her hands clenched into two fists at her side with purple fire that licks along her fingers eagerly, unsated without a target to sink into.

The troll makes a quick darting forward as the party comes into view, excited for the fight – only to halt in place as he recognizes the look of other fellow cultists, and comprehends the Prisoner Situation. His interest is immediately lost as these are not to be killed as per his orders, and he returns to his restless pacing.

The elementalist does nothing at all. It’s unclear if she’s even taken any notice of the prisoners at all.

Past the watchtower are the deathgrounds of the red dragonflight, the bodies slowly stripped of flesh and meat, their bones exposed as if to reach upwards towards an uncaring sky. The Vindicators are clad like dark paladin executioners, their faces covered, and their eyes glowing with vivid purple flames, as they walk among the corpses, gloved hands stroking and rending the flesh as their corrupt thoughts move them to do.

One, a dwarf of indeterminate gender to judge by size and shape, turns their head to watch the procession, both hands dripping with old, black blood, chunks of some internal dragon organ fallen in pieces at their feet.

“The sacrifices… the sacrifices?” The dwarf forces the words out of a throat so hoarse that it reveals the ghostly echoes of screams long since past.

Fray, bound in chains by his request, suddenly throws his weight against them in an act of intimidation and violent intentions. Lathrik stumbles a little, but keeps his hold on the chains, pulling sharply on them to force Fray back into place.

From the back, Shun roughly nudges one of the 'prisoners' to keep them in check.

Shine, already weaving almost drunkenly on his feet, his head and shoulders sagging, staggers a step and nearly goes down to his knees. Siamus steps swiftly as if to intervene, pulling futilely against his bonds, but can do nothing. "Bastards," he spits.

Estel scoffs. "No," she says derisively, and does not stop walking. "These four are to serve the Masters through other means. Get back to work, and do not waste my time." There is a dangerous unspoken or else.

Dane stands tall and proud despite the filthy rags he wears and the injuries he carries. He sets his jaw and slowly rolls his eyes towards the eager dwarven cultist, deadpanning him with a sense of disgust and disdain that doesn’t come from a place of acting. He idly twists his wrists around in his bindings, taking note of the dwarf cultist’s armor, weapon, and mostly notably, how these things are carried.

He works his jaw and turns to peer at the ‘blinded’ Forsaken woman, his glare firm, shrewd — even daring.

Aze keeps her 'gaze' on their destination, apparently uninterested in the prisoners' well-being or the cultists squabbling.

Lena looks even angrier now (surely nothing to do with people she cares about suffering), and she stares at the dwarf with an aura of causing fear gathering around her like a miasma. Surely the worm will not contradict Estel.

The dwarf shudders at Estel's tone, remnants of another's torment of this former Wildhammer showing in the way they flinch and curl into themselves. "For the Master. For the Master. I get… I get… the… kviff tok tok n'koth n…n.." Their mutterings are mad, unclear, and they return to the dragon corpse to pull at the pieces, searching for something, following an order they may no longer fully comprehend.

Beyond the dragon graveyard, the ground deepens in its sense of the Void, a pressure building somewhere in the soul like high altitude for the ears, a pervasive sense of wrongness itching on the edges of awareness. The shadows here are stronger, as they pass through the edges of the camp, not quite whispering, but somehow not silent either.

The movement of the camp ahead is different, cultists striding through, moving along the pathway east down to where the ogres are, but that is not our party's destination.

There, now – the bridge. Carved from stone, and lit by freakish violet flame, it is here that they will pass into the great bastion’s wider area. There are no towers here in the center, but there are frequent huts, and this is where the Twilight’s cultists have retreated to, their numbers reduced.

To the west the great spire blots out the sky, striking the stars from view, and lighting the camp through its unnatural, corrupted puce fires that burn with malice.

Clinging along the edge of the bridge is a Dark Assassin, one that turns towards our party, drifting closer and closer. Does it sense something? Does it recognize the prisoners? Impossible to read off this thing of dark smoke and murder.

Lena is unbothered by the Dark Assassin, seemingly content in mindless obedience.

Aze makes no sign that she has noticed the approaching assassin at all.

Dane sets his jaw, eyes following the Dark Assassin with transparent loathing.

Shun doesn't seem to mind the Dark Assassin's presence. His head doesn't turn towards it as he continues to move along in silence.

Shine doesn't appear to notice the thing. He continues to weave his way along unsteadily, head down. The back of his shirt is now plastered to his skin with blood from the slice beneath his shoulderblade.

Siamus regards the thing contemptuously. (The contempt might be more successfully withering if he didn't have quite so much blood on his face. Or maybe was wearing a shirt.) His cold gaze remains fixed on it as it draws near.

Estel glances at the Dark Assassin, raises her chin slightly, and keeps walking. Nothing to see here.

The Dark Assassin ignores the shadow-touched ones, but the creature slowly looms closer and closer, aiming for the prisoners, and for Siamus in particular. Does it understand the concept of a prisoner? Or does it only see a living being, to follow instructions to kill those not of the cult? It hasn't yet attacked.

Natalyah steps between the Dark Assassin and the prisoners, baring her sharp, deadly teeth (as promised), and emitting a deep growl that leaves nothing uncertain about what will happen if the prisoner's are touched.

It's enough. Between the confidence of the "cultists" and the lack of violence from the "prisoners," the Dark Assassin takes this as another order, and drifts away, following its path across the camp.

"That was anti-climatic," Almeiria comments. "I was half hoping I would get to see one of those soul pendants in action. Perhaps I will claim one for myself."

"Oi," Lathrik cautions, his voice muffled by the helm covering his face.

"Later," she says, waving a hand dismissively. "We have prisoners to transport." She fixes her gaze to the scattered huts ahead of them, scanning for more threats.

Most of the cultists take no interest in this procession, too consumed by their own tasks.

Several possible destinations finally show themselves among the buildings of the camp for where a prisoner might be held.

There are small huts where a single person might be chained inside, they dot the landscape in haphazard places, no rhyme or reason to their placement. One has already been half melted from lava that escaped over the edge of the mesa of Cannon’s Inferno to the east. None of them are defended, and most could not fit more than two or three people inside. These are made of wood and canvas, and could be potentially escaped from with determination and time. Assuming, of course, that the person kept within retains enough sanity to make the attempt.

Farther away and closer to the great Twilight Altar is a large enough building that it could be a barracks or an armory or a demented grocery store. From the outside, it’s difficult to determine the purpose, but there are at least four entrances that can be seen in the unusual stone, and its placement is off center from the main camp, and heavily guarded. Something important is kept here.

More promising perhaps is a large stone edifice, carved by unhinged hands. Literally, in the case of a door, which doesn’t exist at all. The entrance is an arched opening of flinty sharp edges, but there is only one of it. One way in, one way out. The easiest way to keep someone prisoner. This one is closest to the Bastion, enough so that the light from the spire claims most of the building in its haunting, shifting colors.

But which among these holds Solari?

Only one guy here knows for certain.

It is this last building that Fray is staring at, his attention fixated enough that even his wilder tendencies have been momentarily curbed. His body leans towards it almost unconsciously, his gaze soft and yearning. They are close.

Estel glances back at the prisoners. "Keep the prisoners moving," she says to her evil cultist posse. She has her destination now - the stone archway.

Bertrand keeps the prisoners moving.

Aze and Lena also help keep the prisoners moving. Aze hangs back enough to not draw attention, her hood low.

At Estel's command, Shun roughly urges another prisoner forward.

Standing in their immediate path to this building is an enormous Twilight cultist.

There is something deeply wrong with this male tauren. The shadows have eaten away at something crucial within him, but they have left a fierce intelligence and cunning intact. Unlike the others, whose gazes have only grazed over the surface of the party, this one takes a deeper bite, and finds something undefined amiss.

He approaches with intention, his robes flowing with his movement, the purple embroidery flashing with shadow as he passes around the lanterns.

“You,” he addresses the obvious leader – Estel. She has the shoulders. “What are you doing? Who are these – “ He halts himself mid-sentence as he turns a baleful eye on Dane, and then Shine, and recognition dawns dangerously in his expression as he snorts violently. “The intruders. You caught them. Why are they still alive?”

Shine does not appear to be at his alivest. He doesn't seem aware of any of the proceedings, simply shuffling to a vague halt with the others and then swaying drunkenly in place, his head still hanging, the ragged, empty eye socket on display.

Lena looks uninterested. What? It wasn't my call says her bored expression.

Shun slowly draws out one dagger. He takes a hold of Shine and places the blade by his throat while turning his head towards Estel as if awaiting the order.

Lena's fingers twitch, but her expression remains unchanged. Maybe she wanted to kill him.

Shine's only reaction to this is to loll back unsteadily against Shun.

Siamus struggles at his bonds for a moment, his expression twisted with fury and hatred. "I'll kill you," he swears hoarsely to Shun. "So help me, I'll kill you."

Almeiria turns to Siamus, her smile cold and poisonous. "No one is going to help you," she croons, her gaze filled with dark pleasure.

Siamus turns his venomous look on Almeiria and lurches a half-step in her direction with another thrash against his bonds.

"Yes, obviously," Estel says to the tauren. "Death would be wasteful after the fight these four put up. Once we have extracted anything useful they may know, they will be bent to the will of the Masters. They will know despair, and when we are through, they will revel in it." Hey, it was a good quote Almeiria gave her. Estel's delivery is confident and sadistic.

The tauren's grin pulls back his lips from large, deliberately filed sharp teeth, his eyes aglow with hatred and desire. "Yes, yes," he agrees fervently, fully convinced of the truth of this show. He breathes heavily, watching Shun and Almeiria in such a way that in another context one might assume the have upped the rating.

And then he steps into line closer to Estel and the others, eagerness causing him to lose the smooth gliding stride of before. They have now gained another cultist, but this one is real. "It will be a glorious sight. I will drink of the last dregs of their miserable lives for the Masters. For the Masters." The repetition is like a record skipping from where something has torn at the surface. "To the Altar!"

Aze makes a disgusted sound, and mutters, "Our prize."

Almeiria turns away from Siamus, regarding the tauren with such a withering look of scorn that anyone with their mind intact would know they have been Firmly Rejected. For now, she awaits Estel in silence.

Fray snarls at the tauren, drooling like a rabid beast around his gag.

Lathrik remains still, almost unnaturally so. An eerie vibe seeps from him like a mist.

Estel smirks. "Eager, aren't you? Very good. Come with us." She continues in the direction she was headed.

When he receives no such order, Shun moves the knife away and continues ushering the group from the rear. He doesn't re-sheathe his weapon, keeping it palmed in his main hand.

Released by Shun, Shine stumbles forward again — nearly pitches forward, into the dirt. He manages to catch himself with an ungainly sidelong lurch into Siamus and then resumes his unsteady, barefoot shuffle.

Aze shifts over towards the Tauren in the group, radiating distaste with every step they take.

Natalyah may or may not be looking at Estel or the Tauren through Lathrik's eyes, but her expression is hard to read as a worgen, and the only thing that's clear is anger, and the cause unknown.

The Tauren takes no notice of Natalyah or Aze, his entire being focused on what is to come — wait, where are they going?

As they draw closer to the building, the Tauren pulls up short, metaphorically. What he really does is pull up tall, as he snorts aggressively, wet spray hitting the back of some of the prisoners.

"That place," he snarls, reaching up a hand to one horn that on closer inspection has been scraped by something, worn away. He shakes his head like he's shedding water, as more spittle arcs around him. "Not again. You will… you will bring me their bones, after. I will carve them. I will bind their souls. I will give them torment beyond death!" he demands.

This plan (?) stated, he remains in place, watching as the group walks to the entrance.

The corridor entrance to this building is narrow. Two can walk shoulder to shoulder if they’re friendly enough with each other, but no more than that. The ceiling is low enough that the tauren’s reluctance to follow makes sense. An ogre could never fit inside this building, and that may have been exactly the designer’s intent when this place was crafted from the twisted earth and ore that formed it. That it also keeps out the tauren among them as well is simply a sacrifice someone was willing to make.

From deep within is the sound of singing. A child's voice, though the words cannot yet be made out. The sound echoes ominously, out of place in this bastion of torment and suffering.

"You presume you have earned that privilege?" Estel challenges the tauren. "We shall see." She enters the building without waiting for a response, gesturing for Aze to walk up front with her.

Aze sweeps by the Tauren dismissively, moving to enter by Estel's side.

Natalyah sniffs the air, as her ears twitch at the singing. "That isn't the voice of an adult woman," she says as quietly as she can, barely above a whisper to not carry far enough back to the tauren waiting outside, as she moves uncomfortably along the corridor in the middle of the group. "Azsera, can you see if there's more than one prisoner in there?"

The corridor's walls are made of jagged pieces of black rock, and old dried blood and bone mark the places where the too large have tried to make inside with limited success. This narrowness will make for a dangerous chokepoint in a fight, or if there are more prisoners inside than expected.

Siamus, his expression still seething, says quietly through his teeth, "This makes for a dangerous chokepoint in a fight, or if there are more prisoners in there than expected."

Lathrik grunts in acknowledgement, probably not pleased with the situation, though it is impossible to tell through his full-body armor.

"There's… sort of two," Aze says quietly to Estel."The smaller one is maybe… just a shadow. Larger held by magical chains. Do we have a way to break something like that?"

Even though she isn't especially close to either Estel or Aze in the procession, Natalyah hears Aze easily. "I can dispel magic," she whispers confidently. "If it doesn't break it, it should weaken it. I don't smell decay, only blood. Whatever the shadow is, it probably isn't undead."

Aze nods slightly, acknowledging Natalyah.

Estel nods. "I can have a go at chains, yeah," she murmurs.

Shine still sways unevenly on his feet, head down, but he flexes his fingers now carefully behind his back in a movement too deliberate to be anything but preparatory.

Shun grunts from the back. He's ready to act if things go down.

Estel turns around. "Keep them moving," she says in her cultist persona's voice, having clearly come to a halt. She holds up a hand, a soft Light glowing in her palm, and nods to the group. It's healing time.

Natalyah immediately joins in, with a sound of relief, as she snaps a [Circle of Healing] over the group of former-prisoners.

Bertrand produces a rectangular device from a bag and sets it down against the wall, pressing a button. Ominous chanting begins to play from the noise machine. Only then does he start helping Dane get his armor back on. He's carrying that as well, in a bag that looks too small to hold it.

Dane grunts at the others and rips his bindings off. He up-nods at Bertrand as he accepts his armor and arsenal, patting himself down, flexing and bending arms and legs before he’s satisfied with the accoutrements. Thunderfury is gratefully but silently accepted.

Shine straightens to alert again at once, the weight of exhaustion and apparent injury lifted away, his one-eyed gaze hard. He gives a twist of his hands behind him and his rope bindings fall free. He nods briefly to Natalyah.

Just behind him, Siamus — whose expression is now intent and serious rather than defiant and furious — does the same, freeing his own hands. He massages his wrists and looks forward and then over his shoulder again, taking stock of the corridor.

Shun goes on to quickly and quietly produce all of Shine's knives. Where did he keep them all? How many more does he have?

Shine accepts them with a nod of professional courtesy and disappears a number of them before checking his two curve-bladed daggers. Where is he keeping them all? He is barefoot and dressed in rags.

Never mind. Shun gets it.

Estel helps Natalyah heal the others, adding a soft Renew spell per person. She does not have a lot of space to maneuver in the corridor, so she keeps her robes on. "Shun, rear guard," she murmurs, making a gesture to indicate that he's on tauren-killing duty.

Shun gives a curt nod as he vanishes into stealth. He moves some distance away, towards the entrance, on alert.

Lena steps over to Siamus, offering his weapons silently. She no longer looks icy and bored, more intent and worried.

Siamus tilts his head and gives Lena a crooked, faintly sardonic smile, though his gaze is still dark and serious. "Thank ye kindly, Miss Coit," he murmurs under his breath.

Lena next offers the bag with his armor.

Natalyah begins the awkward shuffling and squirming trying to both balance on her hands and one leg and get the Twilight Cultist outfit off. She could probably use help. She's fine. She's got it.

She starts biting and ripping it off with her teeth like an angry, frenzied dog going at a no-no cone.

Siamus and Shine have both re-donned their armor with the speed and practice of naval officers being called to the watch. Siamus is buckling his sword belt. Shine appears to be checking himself for knives. Yes, good, many knives accounted for.

Fray fumbles with his own armor, almost as if he exists in an Armor Optional state most of the time. Or maybe the corridor is simply too small. It certainly is for his sword, the hilt of which scrapes unpleasantly on the ceiling every time the man moves. Almeiria does not bother removing the gag, which is probably the best idea she's had all week.

Lathrik sheds his own cultist plate, donning a nondescript set of black and dark brown armor instead; he is not on active duty, after all. Wearing Stormwind Plate would be inappropriate. It may be difficult to notice in such a cramped space, but his hands are trembling slightly as he prepares.

Natalyah winces at the sound of the hilt scraping on the ceiling, head twitching each time as she grinds her teeth. There are still torn pieces of her cultist gear clinging to her priestess robes, but she's as free and clear of them as she deem necessary. She's too far from Lathrik to touch him from around Fray, keeping to her promise to be in the middle and not the front, but she sends out a soft ping of a [Prayer of Mending] like a reminder of another time, or a promise maybe.

Lena gets her own cultist outfit off, just for the principle of the thing.

Aze quickly sheds her cultist robes, and soon she's back in her usual leather.

Almeiria, for her part, does not even bother to change. Cultist gear suits her just fine, after all.

They continue.

The closer the group gets to the end of the corridor, the louder the singing grows. As they near the end, the words begin to reach their ears — and soon after, their minds.

It is a young girl's voice, singing a child's song, the words altered to fit a new purpose. "Byorin Zechs is falling down… falling down… falling down…" she sings. "Byorin Zechs is…"

Images force themselves into the minds of the more vulnerable; a kindly priest tending a dark haired child, a worried family hovering nearby. As the song continues, the priest's smile fades, his eyes widening in horror as he looks upon the girl, his mouth opening to form a scream…

Almeiria snaps a Shadow Protection spell over the group, stumbling from the targeted mental disruption. She has gone a bit pale. The vision fades… for now.

Natalyah snarls, and for a brief moment visible even in this dark corridor there is a strange glow of pure gold of her eyes — and then it's gone again — as she rejects the invasion into her head with such force that it may almost be too much, as if she didn't hide from the attack so much as violently shove it away from her.

Bertrand pulls a pair of goggles over his eyes.

Shine freezes for only a heartbeat and then relaxes again — deliberately, carefully, his gaze fixed straight ahead. He makes no outward reaction beyond that.

Siamus mutters, "Tides a'mighty." He sounds more cranky than afraid. Knock that sh*t off, creepy shadow song.

Dane only manages to get brief flashes of the images, and shakes them away with a snarl, used to dueling thoughts of unclear origins, especially in this place.

Aze twitches, shaking her head as if shaking something off. Then she refocuses.

Lena looks briefly startled, and then calm again.

Estel traces a Fear Ward in the air, protecting herself just in case, seeing as they might be about to walk into trouble. She surrounds herself, and then Aze, with Shields of shimmering light. Time to walk into trouble.

Inside the center, this building’s unusual stone walls are interrupted by dark twisting spires that curl chaotically up and over objects and spaces, disrupting any clean lines for a pleasing sense of order. Lanterns of sickly purple gloom are rooted to the floor with these onyx tendrils. Altars line the walls, some with strange scrolls of runes on pages made of light, and others with chalices of liquids that scent the air with sharp metallic blood. Bones of dragons and other creatures are piled in the southwest corner, where they have been stripped of flesh and carved with the language of the Old Gods, a sense of pure malignant corruption emanating from them.

In the center of this room is a pyramid stone altar, the top flattened for a person to be put on, but unrelieved by any grace of cloth or rug, nothing to give a smallest shred of comfort. Pain and suffering is the purpose, the malevolent mauve lights above beating down onto the center so that no relief can be found in sweet darkness and no hope can be found in the true light of the moon and celestial heavens.

Their footfalls on this cold, stone floor make eerie echoes to punctuate the song in the cavernous room. So large a place this building is that even if its prisoner had been a large person, she would have been made small in comparison. The prisoner is not a large person.

The woman in question is positioned atop the altar in the center of the room, her arms chained above her head by shadowy bonds that stretch towards a twisting cube set into the wall above her, and her legs curled beneath her on the floor. Her robes are the deep purple worn by many other cultists, and her hair is a dark tangle around her pallid face. She does not look up as they approach, not at first, and those sensitive to such things can tell that her bindings are draining, possibly sealing, her magic.

Between the prisoner and the rescue party, a young child sits, or at least what looks like one. She, too, has dark hair, her eyes a light brown that bears a striking resemblance to at least two of the people present. The child rises as they enter, stopping her song.

"You're not supposed to be here," she says.

Fray, upon seeing the child, makes a noise through his gag, his gaze seeking out Almeiria, for some reason.

Lathrik fights the urge to hang back, locking his focus onto the young girl instead of the woman on the altar, shield at the ready. Nothing appears all that threatening in here. …Yet.

Estel circles around the edge of the room, aiming a Dispel Magic at the shadowy bindings holding Solari's arms.

The shadows flicker at her attempt, but ultimately hold strong. It is probably going to take a more focused effort.

Shine steps back at Aze's words and slips out of sight.

Siamus draws a sword as well, his glance flicking from the child to Solari and back. He takes two steps forward, to put himself with Aze at the front.

Bertrand reaches for one of his modified arrows.

Lena stands ready to attack, watching the child and the woman cautiously.

At The Entrance

There are no incoming steps, but it's difficult to tell if the tauren is still there outside waiting patiently maniacally for them to return, or if he has realized the truth and now goes to tell the entire camp about the intruders in their midst. If he has, they will be at severe disadvantage with this single narrow exit trying to get out against a mob, and may be trapped within the building.

Shun goes on towards the exit to investigate the whereabouts of the Tauren.

Estel's new friend, the mad Tauren, is lingering near the entrance, mere inches from peering inside like a child who strongly suspects his parents are actually Greatfather Winter and are wrapping his presents just beyond the door. His excitement has already manifested in the way he pulls at his own mane, small clumps of the hair pulled out entirely, grasped in his fingers.

Which means that as Shun peeks around the corner, cloaked in his shadows, he comes nose to chest with the similarly almost-peeking Tauren.

Shun quickly halts himself to keep from faceplanting right into the Tauren. He slowly backs off. A blade rests in his hand, at the ready. But for now he bides his time.

In The Altar Room

As they enter the altar room, Dane looks from the prisoner, to the little girl, and then to Almeiria. He remains guarded, given the circumstances, but he appeals to the child with something approximating gentleness.

“Who are you?” Dane asks.

"Careful," Aze says, drawing a sword. "That is not a child."

“Valendra,” the girl answers, swinging her arms around her body idly.

“Liar!” Almeiria snarls, drawing shadows to her until they consume her form. She throws out a hand and a focused beam of shadow pierces the distance between her and the child.

The child raises her own hand and the magic seems to… reflect? Absorb?

“Oh. The disobedient child,” Valendra says. “Don’t you remember who taught you? Who raised you? We showed him the path. The true path, and now you’re walking towards a fate that can’t be undone.”

The shadows gather in a great mass at the child’s palm, then drive back along Almeiria’s beam, crashing into her with enough force to knock her back against the wall.

Valendra returns her attention to the others. “But what about you? Will you join us?” Her gaze fixes on Estel in particular, who is getting too close to her prisoner.

Estel quickly pulls up a Shield to cushion Almeiria's impact against the wall. "Oh, you're too chatty," she says, and attempts to Dispel Magic on the 'child' this time.

"No, I'm pretty happy with the false path right now," Aze says, intent on the child. She draws her second sword. "Fuck fate."

Siamus holds his empty hand out toward Aze as if to forestall her; his gaze remains fixed on the child. "Miss Fey," he says. (It is actually fewer syllables.) "Are ye hurt?" He does not look back toward her. "And d'ye know what this is?"

Aze stills at the gesture, but it is the kind of stillness of a cat before a pounce.

As a few spells begin to sling about, Shun creeps further along towards their exit. He listens carefully for the sound of incoming steps while he lurks in the shadows.

Did someone dare Natalyah to unbind this through dispelling? Because it sounded like a dare. (To Natalyah.)

When the first [Dispel Magic] does little, Natalyah sets the full force of her considerable willpower on the task, hammering dispel after dispel at the chains, testing for the weakest points, undaunted by the lack of immediate success, determined to find exactly where the anchoring point really is. She floats two feet above the floor now, although she tries to stay in the general middle of the pack, as she attacks the bindings on Solari while the others deal the weird Not-Child.

Dane glares at the child upon Almeiria’s outburst and takes a controlled, readied stance, his boots set wide, both hands gripping Thunferfury securely with his shield slung over his back.

He remains poisoned and primed to strike, even if the projection or illusion is of a child, his glare as grim as a funeral. He exhales heavily once through his nose, looking between Solari, the child, and Almeiria, staying his blade until he learns more.

The shield dissipates from the force of the impact, but Almeiria seems ultimately unharmed. “I’m fine,” she snaps, picking herself back up. “And that is a manifestation of his magic. If he didn’t know we were here before, he does now.”

As Estel’s dispel lands on the child, the magic keeping her form fixed dissipates, and the shadows spill across the room. Five shadowy fiends form in her place, all teeth and tentacles, and not friendly. They each choose a target and step through the shadows, reappearing behind Lena, Aszera, Almeiria, and Fray respectively. The fifth disappears from sight, moving to occupy the same shadows as Shine, wherever he currently is.

Aze seems to notice the shadowy fiend behind her immediately, and whirls to attack like a spring suddenly released. She slashes at the creature with no hesitation.

The shadowfiend attacking Aszera is not prepared for such a fast retaliation, and takes her blow fully in what must be its chest, if it had one. It recoils, wounded, before shadow stepping again to strike at her back once more. Surely it will work this time.

Aze spins smoothly on the ball of her foot to swing directly into another attack on the creature, seeming not to have lost 'sight' on it at all. Her glowing green glasses over the blindfold are visible now.

Shine reappears from the shadows on the far side of the room, and a shadowfiend pursues him out. He's already dodging away from the toothy end of the thing. Abruptly he shadowsteps — no more than a blink in time, in and out, and he's behind the creature to ambush it with both knives.

The shadowfiend attacking Shine does not like this taste of its own medicine, and it gnashes its teeth in pain as the daggers bite into its back. Then it twists, suddenly and sharply, neck outstretched, snapping at Shine’s legs.

Siamus turns on the creature behind Lena, both swords drawn now. He spares a moment's glance for Bertrand and jerks his head toward the door they've just come through. "Shun may need help."

Bertrand slips quietly down the hallway towards Shun, passing by the noise machine. He does not turn the corner.

Lena whirls around at Siamus's motion. She did not see that there. In another moment, shadowy magic swathes her own hands as she strikes out at it.

The shadowfiend attacking Lena is already moving at full force, teeth bared to close around her leg. Her magic hits, but the creature has come too far to stop now. Its bite carries with it a withering disease.

Lena hisses with pain, raises her hand to start a summoning, and then decides better of it. No time. Instead, she gestures and a stream of green attempts to link her to the creature, to draw its life force into her.

Siamus had slashed at a vicious downward angle as if to "behead" the shadowfiend attacking Lena, if a creeping blob of shadows and tentacles can be said to have a head. As the creature's momentum continues its lunge toward Lena, he checks the stroke abruptly before it can angle through the fiend and into Lena's leg, drawing the blade out with an equally vicious motion from where it had bitten into the creature's amorphous… back? neck? He drives his other blade straight into the fiend's flank.

Almeiria whirls and stabs the shadowfiend attacking her, with a knife she had hidden somewhere. The rogues would understand. Not to be dissuaded from its course, however, the shadowfiend latches onto her, teeth gnashing, trying to score a bite.

Meanwhile, Natalyah’s efforts have drawn the notice of Solari herself, who at last looks up from the ground as the chains flicker and phase above her. The look on her face is one of startled fear, and her gaze seeks out Fray. The chains will not last much longer.

Dane steps forward, raising Thunderfury. He brings the sword down on the chains holding Solari with a grunt of exertion.

Natalyah doesn't grunt with exertion or anything else as she brings the full weight of her willpower down on the chains. At the sight of fear on Solari's face, she glides back in the air, trying to make herself smaller, ducking her head in shame even as she dispels the magic. There's a flicker around her form, as if she might have tried to return to human — and failed.

The shadowy chains break under the combined efforts of Dane and Natalyah, the cube above Solari crumbling into dust. Solari's arms drop limply to her sides, like a doll suddenly set down, and her wide eyed gaze roams the group uncertainly.

Estel brings a pillar of holy fire down on the shadowfiend going for Fray. "Hey," she says. "We still gotta stay quiet for now, but you can go to your wife, yeah?"

Fray, at Estel's urging, makes for his wife at full speed, but he doesn't get far. The shadowfiend blasted by holy fire writhes, screaming in pain and lashing out blindly, one of its tentacles entangling itself around Fray's legs. He falls on his face.

“Oi!” Lathrik runs to his father’s aid, stabbing into the creature trying to wriggle its way towards Fray’s head.

Estel puts a Shield around Shine, and then one around Fray.

Shine is already evading the shadowfiend's attack, shifting swiftly aside, when Estel's bubble springs into being around him. A moment later and the fiend might have matched his speed and caught him, but now it plonks harmlessly into the shield of Light.

The shield itself seems to remind Shine of something; he looks up to make a swift survey of the room. There is another shadowy shift and then he's in front of Almeiria, adding his blades to the assault on the beast attacking her.

Dane focuses on Solari despite the chaos around him, shifting Thunderfury to his left hand. He calmly marches towards the woman and extends a gauntlet. “My lady, we’ve come to rescue you. Fray, and your lads are among us. Please, come with us.”

Solari stares up at the strange knight in front of her, then tries to crawl away. “Aah, aaagh,” she says.

Natalyah pours her energy into a Greater Heal on Solari. Old wounds have no chance of being healed, but anything recent might be caught within the outpouring of a deep compassion born of a knowing empathy of what it feels like to be chained.

A ringing chime pings out onto Lathrik once more, as Natalyah makes her way closer to Solari in floating inches.

Fray’s shadowfiend is met with a similar obstacle, and as it wrestles with the Light, Fray regains his footing. Reaching for one of its squirming tentacles, Fray pries it off his back with Lathrik’s assistance and tosses it clear over Dane’s head and into the far wall where it disperses entirely.

“Fallin’ like bleedin’ Peril…” Lathrik mutters to himself. He glances at Natalyah as the Light hits him from her prayer.

Natalyah’s heal finds several fresh bruises across Solari’s body, especially around her wrist and neck, and one on her right leg. There is, however, a strong resistance, and Solari, mid-crawl, begins to increase in volume, panic clear in her voice. “AaaAAH! AAAH!” She drops the rest of the way, curling into a ball with her arms covering her head.

Aszera’s strike is once again on point, and the shadowfiend disperses, much like Fray’s had.

Lena’s weakening shadow magic, combined with Siamus’s sword strikes prove too much for their shadowfiend, and it, too, scatters into darkness.

Shine’s swift attack finishes off Almeiria’s shadowfiend, but his own follows him through the shadows.

“Trying to repay me, Shine, dear?” Almeiria asks, as her swirling Void magic catches his pursuer in a violent blast that shreds through it, leaving nothing behind.

Shine steps back and shrugs at her. He shifts sideways through the shadows again and reappears near Lena, Siamus, and Aze by the door, and steps back to survey that doorway warily over his shoulder; he tilts his head to listen.

By the Entrance

As battle breaks out somewhere behind him, Shun remains where he is. He will not leave his post unless called for. He keeps his breath slow and steady as he watches and listens for changes in the Tauren's demeanor.

The sound of battle, and not the sound of torture or screaming, alerts the Tauren that Something Is Up. He sticks his head abruptly around the edge of the entrance and snorts as he listens briefly. He doesn't step foot into the building itself, where he might get caught on the too narrow design. And rather than sound the alarm or yell, this unfortunately intelligent servant of the Old Gods begins to slip away quietly, where he may alert the rest of the camp to swarm this entrance.

It's here where Shun takes action. He reaches out to yank the big guy back, using whatever leverage he could to try and take him down within the building. He intends on driving a blade through his throat at his earliest convenience to attempt to quash any cries that might sound out.

The Tauren has at his advantage size, but Shun has surprise, and it turns out the two end up in something of a net zero. He doesn't go down easy, but he is very effectively halted, as the cultist struggles to keep his feet, only one hand managing to catch on the side of the entrance. He's unbalanced and turning with the action as he fights against the assassin. The Tauren's own mental note to be quiet, to not alert the infiltrators, stifles any warning cry — for now.

Shun grunts as he fails to bring the big guy down right away. But it looks like the Tauren is unbalanced. As the cultist turns, he shadowsteps to get to the other side of the cultist. He reappears mid-air, slightly above his target, as he reaches out to try and grab the bull by the back of the head as the assassin falls.

For a guy who spends a lot of time worshipping the Void and Shadow, the Tauren was not expecting his opponent to literally move through them behind him, and all his current momentum to fight against being brought down is now turned into helping the assassin instead, as the two crash heavily to ground.

As they crash down, Shun takes this moment to try and finish off the tauren while he has the chance.

The Tauren bleeds out swiftly, adding the scent of fresh blood to the old, as he becomes quite literally dead weight.

Bertrand steps into the doorway, an arrow nocked, and finds that Shun has already handled it. He nods in silent approval and grabs the front half of the tauren's body to help drag him into the hallway and around the corner.

Shun grunts and nods at Bertrand in turn before starting to drag the body out of the way with the other man.

In the Atlar Room

Natalyah doesn't attempt a second heal on Solari, drifting back again, hugging herself in a strange echo of Solari's own ball curl. "Lathrik, she's hurt, but she's resisting my heals," she informs him, and shame rings louder in her voice than whatever he might read off her body language, and lack of an expression on her void face. "I think I made it worse.

Lathrik is visibly sweating, strands of his hair sticking to his forehead. “Aye,” he says. “Ye can’t make that much worse. Jus’ stay back with me for now. It’ll work out.” His smile is thin, and his words spoken in an effort to convince himself, as much as her.

Estel surveys the room and cures the disease on Lena with a wave of her hand and a quick flicker of light. "Okay," she says, approaching Fray. "Okay, you gotta talk to her. Inside voice, yeah?" She's been raising two kids, okay? She waits to see if Fray needs any help removing his own gag.

Dane twitches, head angling upwards to see the flying tentacle, before he rapidly snaps back to see the thrower. He grunts briefly with approval and surprise before looking back to Solari, only to see her crawling away and collapsing in on herself. Dane doesn't reach out for her as she puts distance between them, but he doesn't move from his position, either.

Instead, he turns back to Fray and Estel, beckoning the former closer. "She needs you. Now." he growls, voice stern but projected at a controlled volume.

Fray does not need further urging, or, apparently, help with his gag. He rips the gag from his head, no untying necessary, and strides towards his wife, calling to her at a volume that is perhaps one or two notches louder than a normal person’s inside voice, but quieter than he could have. “Solari!” He kneels at her side.

The wretched ball of a woman uncurls slightly at the sound of his voice, only to be promptly scooped into a hug.

Now Fray’s voice is uncharacteristically soft, spoken as a murmur in her ear as he holds her. “Our boys are here,” he tells her. “Both of ‘em, alive and well. You did that. Look at all the friends they’ve brought, hm?”

He shifts her so she can peer over his shoulder at everyone, which she does, calmer now, her brown eyes inquisitive.

When her gaze lands on Lathrik, the paladin immediately turns, making his way over to Lena.

“Ye alright?” he asks her.

Lena nods, and then finds her voice to say, "Yes, I'm fine. We shouldn't stick around here too long."

“I can’t say I trust that woman at our backs, so we’ll have to keep an eye on her,” Almeiria says, moving to join the others. “We should go. Now. Trapped in a building with one exit is the last place we want to be when he knows we’re here.”

"Aye," says Siamus grimly to Almeiria. "Even with Bertrand to cover him, I don't want to leave that corridor to Shun to hold off… whatever's likely to come now." He looks around. "Everyone ready to move?"

Shine nods at him, then steps forward and touches Lena's elbow lightly in a brief reassurance before stepping back to focus on the exit again.

Lena turns to meet Shine's gaze briefly and nods before the team turns back towards the exit.

Natalyah shudders, her muscles bunching and straining, as she closes her hands into tight fists — and this not an elegant shimmer so much as fits and sputters as black fur flickers, and she shrinks more and more, and then finally — human again. She's sweating even worse than Lathrik, breathing hard as if she sprinted from the loch to here, but she doesn't hesitate as she floats forward, and then abruptly has to course correct as Lathrik spins off and away towards Lena.

Some people will be seeing for the first time how someone could look like they're stomping over to a person while they are actually floating in the air and not moving their legs as she crosses to Lathrik, linking her arm to his and dragging herself back closer to the ground, and pulling extremely ineffectively at him.

Siamus surveys Lathrik now, his brows knit sternly. "Dinnsfield. Ye solid?" He flicks a glance at Natalyah before returning it to Lathrik.

Lathrik straightens at the address. “I won’t slow us down,” he says, his gaze flicking to study their exit. “We’ll want an exit order. Someone with a shield first? I volunteer.” He does not look at Natalyah. He’s fine. They’re fine.

Fray rises, Solari tucked against him in one arm, and moves to join the cluster by the entrance. As he gets closer, Lathrik’s posture loosens, a familiar lazy smile settling on his face. He still does not turn around.

Solari makes a noise of recognition, (probably,) as Natalyah returns to her human form. “Eehh,” she says, reaching out for the lepidopterist.

Siamus shakes his head. "Atley first," he says. "Then myself and Aszera, then Estel and Miss Fey. Then ye come with Miss Kensington Whit as a second line of defense, to protect your father with Solari. Shine will come at the back and we'll pick up Bertrand and Shun to fall in behind along the way."

He sweeps the group with an assessing look. "Everyone comfortable?"

Dane looks to Siamus and grunts, unshouldering his shield, holding it at the ready. "Comfortable," he growls. He does not look comfortable. He looks violent. Maybe comfortable with violence.

Shapes begin to move along the edges of the building, just an unhurried trickle at first, a gathering of two on one side, three on the other. The cultists are behaving strangely.

"Whatever order, we need to leave, now," Aze says, distracted. "I think they know something’s up."

A sound begins to echo in Shine’s head. Tap. Tap. Tap. The sound of a cane on stone, gradually growing louder, closer.

Shine has frozen where he stands, his head lifted sharply as if listening to something. "Hang on," he says urgently. "I can hear — d'ye hear that?"

Natalyah, the person with the best hearing of the group, tilts her head and listens intently. "The tauren is dead, if that's what you mean. I can't hear any footsteps that don't belong to Shun or Birdie in the hallway, but that doesn't mean something isn't coming another way that leaves no footsteps and comes with no scent," she says ominously to Shine.

Natalyah blinks at Solari, and then, incautiously reaches back out to her, her palm down like a lady or perhaps like someone letting a wild animal get a good sniff of her. She speaks softer, more gently than she has in most people here's hearing. She seems aware that she needs to keep it simple, speak only the most pertinent, critical information to this traumatized woman. "Hello. I'm Natalyah Kensington-Whit, your son Lathrik's girl." She pauses. "And a published lepidopterist." There, those are the most important things.

Solari leans forward in Fray’s grasp, reaching for Natalyah’s face in what is possibly a familiar gesture, reminiscent of a certain night spent in Peril’s house; the time she saw through Lathrik’s eyes.

Lathrik turns, ready to grab Solari’s hand to stop it, only to find himself blocked by Fray.

"They're grouping up," Aze says, gesturing to each spot she thinks small groups are gathering. "We'll be surrounded if we linger much longer."

Siamus looks between Shine and Natalyah.

"Ye don't hear…?" Shine pauses, considers the worgen. He nods slowly. "Sounds like… a cane. Someone walking with one. Getting close."

Natalyah shakes her head. "No. And I know exactly what that sounds like," she tells him with the tone of an Expert In Her Field. And then she seizes Lathrik's arm harder, with urgency, preparing with her other hand the start of Light for fast moving speedy bubbles. "We need to run. Now. If you're hearing — the Shadow Man uses a cane. He had one that night."

"Atley to the fore. Everyone fall in," Siamus says with an officer's crisp command. "We're moving."

Shine dutifully steps back to let the rest of the procession order itself.

Dane stomps towards the exit, giving Thunderfury one last spin in his hand, as if to savor the space he's afforded before it rapidly diminishes. Sparing one last glance at the others, his sword-arm briefly trembles with rising adrenaline before he slowly inhales and exhales in the span of two seconds, becoming eerily still. "Together."

“Of course it’s on his terms…” Almeiria mutters, getting into position. “It’s always on his terms…”

Estel Shields Aze and refreshes the Fear Ward on herself with a lazy scribble of her hand in midair. It is almost a doodle of the symbol rather than the real thing, but it works as intended. She takes her place.

Shine waits until the rest of the group is lined up and then quietly steps over to take his place at the back. He spares an inscrutable glance for Lena.

Natalyah stubbornly holds onto her humanity by stubbornly holding onto Lathrik while he gets them into position, as the first Shield of Light encircles Dane, imbuing him with a surge of speed.

Taking advantage of the Shield of Light, Dane exits the room and starts building speed down the corridor, conscious of not leaving the rest of the group behind. He makes for the exit, shield raised, sword crackling, eager for use.

Shun looks back, seeing the strike team returning through the hall with one additional person in tow, "Any sign of the Shadow?"

Dane looks to Shun as he draws closer, gaining speed. “It’s upon us,” he says, briefly looking to the dead Tauren. “We’re moving out.”

"Fall in at the back of the column wi' Shine and Lena," Siamus tells Shun and Birdie, his tone clipped. He's moving two paces behind Dane. "Keep our rearguard. You and Shine are our fastest if we need intervention along the column. Bertrand can give cover at range so long as one of ye watches his back. What movement out here?"

He does not slow his own pace. Talk and keep up.

Shun lets out a grunt as he shadowsteps to the end of the line. No need to shuffle past everyone as they make their way out.

"Tauren was taken out before he could alert anyone else. I did not perceive anything or anyone incoming yet," he says as he prepares his weapons. His target is still at large.

As Shun appears behind him, Shine says low-voiced over his shoulder, "They know we're here. Girl was an alarm of some kind. I heard a… thought I heard a cane coming. If I didn't, something wanted me to think it."

Bertrand collects his noise machine and flattens himself against the wall so the others can pass.

A soft sigh escapes Shun, "Great. This both simplifies and complicates my job here in that case."

As they proceed around the curve of the hallway, the cultists Aszera can see moving through the walls take up positions on either side of their exit, now three on either side. Magic springs up in front of the cultists, and she can make out the shapes of Dark Assassins emerging from the wells of magic.

As they proceed around the curve of the hallway, the cultists Aszera can see moving through the walls take up positions on either side of their exit, now three on either side. Magic springs up in front of the cultists, and she can make out the shapes of Dark Assassins emerging from the wells of magic.

"Ambush," Aze says quietly, completely unaware that her companions are being affected. "Three on either side, and assassin's. Some kind of magic…"

As the group emerges from the building, it becomes clear that they have a welcoming party. To the left and right of them there are three cultists each, channeling their magic into purple portals, from which Dark Assassins are emerging, their numbers swelling with each passing second. In front of them, two beams of purple light extend skyward from behind a pair of elementium huts. A cultist is barely visible around the side of one, and more are likely present, enacting some sort of ritual.

On a patch of raised ground between the group and one of the cultist circles, an orc elementalist stands channeling some sort of magic, the effects of which are not yet apparent. A stone elemental stands guard at the base of the small hill.

Finally, and perhaps most importantly, a grey haired man in black robes with a scar over his left eye and a cane in his hand stands between the two purple beams, the magic of the beams seeming to empower him, encircling him in a black shadowy shell reminiscent of the one used by High Priestess Azil in the Stonecore.

Dane keeps his breathing low and quiet despite the tremendous exertion that lends him his speed. Once he draws free of Solari's jail, he follows through on his intentions to hit whatever lay before them as hard and fast as possible. After a fraction of a second worth of calculation and sizing up the battlefield, he immediately leaps to the north, coming up near point blank to the Dark Assassins to the group's left.

He raises Thunderfury high, the blade cloaked in a shimmering aura of lightning, and smashes it on the ground in front of him with an otherworldly, clanging resonance. The blade itself don't touch earth, but the aura around it shatters, the force of which rebounds the sword upwards as it transfers into a debilitating Shockwave unleashed upon the Dark Assassins. He tries, with his close proximity, to even extend the shockwave towards the void portal and the cultists channeling its existence beyond, but there is an element of limited range at play.

He immediately follows up with a savage battle shout and an aggressive cleaving of the Dark Shadows before him. "There's no getting through that shield!" he yells to his comrades, recognizing the magical tactic the Shadowman utilizes from his experience in the Stonecore. "Kill the spares, close the portals! And gut that orc!" he says of the Elementalist.

Aze does not notice the scarred cane man, but she follows Dane's direction and shifts into combat immediately.

Natalyah bursts into her worgen form with a surge of adrenaline, as she lets go of Lathrik's arm to free him. Her lack of experience shows in how long it takes her to get her bearings on this very real battlefield. She doesn't immediately notice her companions struggles, momentarily overwhelmed by the amount of information.

But Natalyah's response to such a fearful situation is not to cower or freeze — she gets angry. And she gets a burst of speed bubble on Lathrik, as she stays floating in front of Solari and Fray, though it means she's now on one of the unprotected sides with an entire set of Dark Assassins.

Taking advantage of the speed, Lathrik draws his sword and, seeing Dane moving to take the northern side, veers south, placing himself between the Dark Assassins and the rest of the group, covering their right flank. Holy energy seeps from him as the ground lights beneath him in a burning consecration and he engages the enemy.

Bertrand turns towards Lathrik, and fires an arrow with some sort of attached incendiary device at the ground at the far edge of Lathrik's consecration, resulting in a flame trap to burn the shades.

Lena emerges from the building onto a battlefield. Wildhammer dwarves engage an army of towering n’raqi, and her allies quickly jump in, running headlong into the fight and scattering. No orders are given, and Lena loses them in the chaos. A familiar flash of blond hair appears at her side, standing calmly next to her as if they’re enjoying a quiet morning on the farm.

“Are you going to run?” Collin asks, his blue eyes turning on her. “You’re good at running. Surviving.” His features begin to pale, his eyes taking on a golden glow as his face melts into the badly burned visage of a Forsaken. “Even when others don’t.” He draws a knife.

Lena cries out and tries to shove away someone who isn't really there.

As Siamus rounds the curve of the hallway after Dane, he finds himself suddenly alone. The cultist camp outside is as it was, only empty. His allies are missing, and there is no sound save for his own footsteps. The sky above him is darker than it should be, and the stars shift and spin, winking in and out of existence, almost like… No, exactly like eyes. Multitudes of tiny eyes, blinking down at him. There is a sense of hunger about them. They await their meal.

Siamus slows and then stops a few steps into the eerily silent night. He sweeps the empty camp with a single, assessing look, and then by old reflex looks up to find his bearings.

There are no familiar stars. But something about that watchful void, those predatory eyes, is familiar. He thinks he’s had this dream before. Thinking it doesn't seem enough to wake him from it.

He casts a line: “Raff,” he says aloud. He thinks it’s aloud. “Raff.”

In the very real camp ranged before and then around them, Shine makes swift calculations as they emerge. Beyond the row of assassins he picks out summoners at portals, and that’s where he wants to be.

Beside him, Lena cries out and tries to shove something — someone? He sidesteps it and reaches out to take her arm, but the look in her eyes stops him short. He doesn’t touch her. He recalls the phantom sound of a cane echoing in his skull. “Lena,” he says. “Lena, what’s there?”

Atley goes crashing off to the north bellowing. Shine has knives in hand but can’t leave Lena exposed if she’s got phantoms.

“Raff,” says Fallon’s voice. “Raff.”

Shine looks to where the other man’s hesitated ahead of them. “Aidan?” he answers reflexively.

Fallon shudders all over and throws a look over his shoulder that seems more relieved than he ought to be under the circumstances, then turns toward the fray.
"I'm sorry," Lena says in a broken voice. "There was nothing to be done."

"Don't look," says Shine urgently. "Look at me. Ye have to move."

Lena shudders and then her eyes lock on Shine. "Are we too late?"

He shakes his head, steps back, and does another swift survey, then points north to the summoners behind the line of assassins Dane is battling. "They need silencing," he tells Lena. He vanishes.

Lena follows his pointed indicator and nods. Then she starts to summon a demon. Now there should be time, and dead summoners will do very little casting.

For Estel, the hallway doesn’t end. Everyone ahead of her, Dane, Siamus, Aszera, Almeiria, and everyone behind her, Lathrik, Natalyah, Fray, Solari, Shine, Lena, and Bertrand, disappears behind a veil, but for Estel, the hallway continues, dark and endless. The sounds of battle ring out around her, the calls of her allies, the snarls of her enemies, but Estel does not leave the hallway, and Shun does not exist.

Estel stops walking, closes her eyes, and tries to jump to Shun's vision. She cannot detect Shun nearby, or anyone else for that matter. It’s as though something magical in nature is obscuring — or even distorting — her senses.

"Ugh." Estel attempts to dispel the magic from herself.

The magic unravels, twisting shadows clearing away like clouds before a moon, revealing the true scene of the battle. They are under attack.

Slipping back into the shadows before they step out into the open, Shun's eyes quickly dart around to look at all that's going on out here. Enemies are all around. And more importantly, his target is now in view.

Poison is applied to his weapons as he seeks openings to take out some of the underlings quickly.

Fray draws his broadsword, Solari still in one hand, and, no longer inside, shouts a booming battlecry as he barrels past Natalyah towards the enemies at Lathrik’s side. Solari does not look particularly concerned by this, remaining strangely calm even while clinging to Fray as his sword sweeps through the enemy.

Almeiria does not make a move towards either portal, remaining in the middle with her eyes fixed on the Shadow Man. Void magic swirls around her outstretched hand as she attempts to determine what exactly is causing his barrier.

“Rituals,” she announces. “They are channeling some sort of power into him. I can’t… get through.”

As the team begins to rush in different directions, Estel snaps a mass dispel over as many of her allies as she can.

The mass dispel removes any last vestiges of shadowy haze lingering over those it reaches, the battle becoming more clear, more focused in their minds.

“Finally,” the Shadow Man says in a voice like dry leaves. “Finally you come. That man cannot save you, Valendra. Only death awaits you at his side.”

“Do not speak that name,” Almeiria hisses.

The Shadow Man’s expression is almost eerily unchanging, a stern, unreadable mien. “Ungrateful child. I will show you your place.” He begins to channel some manner of spell. Seven shadowy copies of him form and begin to move towards the group. Tap. Tap. Tap. The sounds are real this time, as seven canes hit the stone.

Meanwhile the orc elementalist’s spell begins to take hold, dark clouds bubbling over the sky, lightening collecting within. But this is no ordinary spell. It doesn’t take a shaman to feel the pressure building, firm and oppressive, almost as though the air itself is in pain.

The Dark Assassins emerging from the portals seem endless, but with the combined efforts of the team on each side, the numbers are noticeably thinning. They are making progress towards the cultists operating the portals. Three of the Dark Assassins hurl Agonizing curses at the team, shadow magic assailing the minds and bodies of Shun, Dane, and Natalyah with aches that only worsen as the curse lingers.

Dane stumbles backwards in the middle of striking at Dark Assassin, as if walloped by a giant, invisible fist. He feverishly shakes his head back and forth but cannot overcome the cursed shadow magic with mere force of will or grit, dropping to a knee. He does grind his teeth and struggle to weakly maintain his raised shield.

Shun staggers as the wave of shadow magic strikes him, flooding him with agony. He balls a fist up by his chest before casting his hand away, as if throwing something aside [Cloak of Shadows].

As the pain ebbs, he shadowsteps past the line of Dark Assassins to go straight for the cultists manning the portals.

Natalyah gasps as the curse takes hold, and the damage sends her crashing to the ground, her [Levitate] broken. Even sprawled out on the ground, this isn't her first experience with a curse, and she is a fight-fire-with-worse-fire person, so she hones in on the Dark Assassin that cursed her and inflicts him with a [Devouring Plague] and [Shadow Word: Pain] back.

Estel begins rapidly sending out Shields of Light. Natalyah gets the first one, and then Shun, and then Dane, and finally Almeiria. Each bubble infuses the individual inside with healing Light, warm and bright and carrying a sense of Estel's affection and concern for their safety.

Bertrand draws an arrow with pure black fletching from his quiver. Shadow magic seems to pulse from it as he fires it at the elementalist, moving just enough that the elemental won't block his line of fire.

Lena's fel hunter emerges, and she sics it on the nearest summoner. The fel hunter seems positively delighted to have magic-users to eat, if that's the correct interpretation of its quivering stalks.

Lena begins to weave her own curses, throwing them at the summoners.

Aszera cuts through dark assassins, dodging their attacks nimbly.

Shine swivels toward the familiar tapping sound. His eye narrows. "Incoming!" he calls. (It's all incoming, Shine, there's a lot of stuff incoming). As curses seem to slam into some of the company, he makes another swift survey of the field and then shadowsteps to a Dark Assassin closing with the kneeling Dane before it can reach him.

Siamus steps over the remains of an Assassin on the opposite side of the battle, fighting his way toward the summoners behind them, when the elementalist's storm starts to gather. He wheels toward the orc, his expression savage with fury.

Dane raises his head as Estel’s shield hits him, just in time to see Shine step in to the rescue.

He grunts and pushes himself up, unleashing the rage built from the torment of the shadow curse, leaping in to cleave at the remaining Shadow Assassins on his side, striving to reach the summoners beyond them.

Solari makes a noise of discontentment as Natalyah falls, and another of fear as the seven shadowy copies begin to close on them. “Eeeh… aaah!” she cries.

Lathrik whirls at the call, his brow creasing in concern as he sees Natalyah on the ground. “’Tal —” he begins.

A Dark Assassin breaks through his defenses in his moment of distraction, shadowy claws striking an exposed section of his shield arm. There is no blood, the pain seeming to be of a different variety as he cries out, his face twisting first in surprise, then discomfort, before settling on a grimace. He raises his shield back into place, but seems to struggle with the movement of his arm, pushing through it all the same.

You are his weakness… The face of the Shadow Man flashes in Natalyah’s vision.

“Eyes forward, trust the priestesses,” Fray commands, his blade swiping through the body of the assassin that struck Lathrik. “You will help her by ending this!”

As Shine’s daggers find the vulnerable spots on the lightly armored portal cultist and their life comes to a sudden end, the portal itself begins to destabilize and collapse. Unable to maintain it, the other two cultists switch to offensive magics, only to be hit with a curse causing them to stumble over their spells, their casting speed significantly slowed.

Shun’s attack takes down a second cultist before their spell can launch, and the third becomes entangled in the magic draining tentacles of Lena’s felhound. He is not quite dead, but the way his body withers indicates he is not far from it.

The flow of Dark Assassins from the north is cut off in the absence of the portal, and it doesn’t take Dane and Aszera long to clean up the remainder, leaving their exit path clear.

The large stone elemental has One Job, and it does as it has been bound to do; it blocks the pulsing shadow arrow, catching it on a large rocky arm and rumbling in pain… and anger. In a cascade of avalanching pebbles it rolls furiously towards Bertrand, the Perpetrator, its One Job forgotten behind it. The arrow lodged in its arm continues to hurt it.

Almeiria skitters backwards as the shadowy copies close on her, a full, fearful retreat away from them. She tries to assault them with her own magic, but can’t seem to find any purchase. The three shadows heading for the north team are close now, nearly within range of a physical attack, and closing.

The orc elementalist continues channeling and the sky tears open, lightning flashing down on them with a thunderous scream, bolts lashing out at Siamus, Almeiria, Lena, and Estel.

Almeiria stumbles as the lightning strikes her, momentarily halting her retreat from the shadow copies.

"I'm fine!" Natalyah tells Lathrik. Somewhere within her mind, she simultaneously flinches and roars, a seed of fear trembling to take root that the voice is right, even as another part of her rejects it. The wolf stirs.

As the shadow copies get closer to her, Natalyah rises back up with a new [Levitate]. A Circle of Healing hits Lathrik at its center, radiating out among those near him in an instant rush. She backpedals, noting Almeiria's own retreat, and recognizing a Shadow Technique. "The Shadow Copies, they'll wound you on impact. Don't let them touch you!" she warns.
Shine hears Natalyah's warning and backpedals from an approaching shadow. He turns to look toward Lena where she stands with Almeiria and Estel — just in time to see lightning arc toward the three women from the sundered sky. He makes a ragged, inchoate sound and breaks into a run.

Lena freezes rigid when the lightning strikes her and the felhound pauses, looking back at its master.

"Lena!" Shine cries.

Siamus seems somehow aware of the lightning, even as the charge is gathering, even before the bolt leaps toward him. He reaches into his collar and tears away one of the pendants he wears — the silver kraken mark of the Tidemother — and drops it at his feet. The blue-white bolt trips jaggedly to strike the medal instead of the man, grounding itself in the earth.

Siamus's gaze is black, his expression electric with wrath. He has forgotten entirely about the Dark Assassins and the cultists, spares no attention for the advancing shadowforms. Sword in one hand, he takes two steps toward the orc on his rise. He's chanting — singing? — something under his breath, and then he opens his free hand at the elementalist as if loosing something. A storm wind tears away and whirls toward the orc, knocking him a reeling step backwards and stopping his breath. The elementalist's storm-channel breaks.

Aze is distracted by Siamus and the elementalist as Dane vaults past her. She smiles for half a second and then starts to cut herself a path to help with the elementalist.

Lena coughs, and then blinks, and looks to Shine. She quickly crushes a hearthstone in her fist, and then says, "I'm fine."

She's definitely moving more stiffly now, as if in pain, so she's probably not fine. But she starts weaving corruptions to fling at the remaining summoners.

Natalyah focuses her attention on Lena, her hands moving in the air like a conductor who can see and feel something others cannot, as Light encircles the worgen just after another ping of a [Prayer of Healing] hits Lathrik. When she speaks the word aloud, "Sanctuary," a ring of Light forms around the three women, particles of magic flowing like shooting starts up towards the sky. The healing is a storm, the sense of Natalyah's defensive protectiveness for them behind it; how dare something hurt them.

Siamus is focused single-mindedly on the elementalist now; he advances on the silenced orc with murder in his eyes. A bitter wind chases fretfully around him.

Shine steps close to touch Lena's arm briefly — more reassurance to himself than to her, possibly — and then turns back to the battle. He swears as he sees Siamus moving directly toward a pair of the advancing shadowforms with his attention fixed past them on his target. "Fallon!" he yells… and then is himself more immediately distracted by the rock elemental rumbling furiously toward Bertrand. He shadowsteps behind it.

Dane watches the Rock Buddy charge Bertrand from across the battlefield and growls in frustration. He snaps his head back to the three encroaching shadows, and gives Thunderfury an idle spin.

Leaping past Aszera, he raises the blade again and slams it on the ground, to try and stun the three encroaching shadows, or perhaps wipe them out before they can arrive at their respective targets.

Bertrand sighs and fires a couple of explosive arrows at the rock elemental that detonate upon impact.

Shun eyes the incoming shadows and moves to get past them. He hurls a volley of knives at the ring of cultists further back. Those are his next priority.

Estel cries out as she is struck by lightning. She is torn between 'run away from the shadows' and 'stay in the healing zone'. She pulls a Shield around herself, channels a powerful [Pain Suppression] into her own body, and steps deliberately into the path of the two approaching Shadow Copies. Her veins pulse with an inner Light.

Lena’s corruptions begin to eat away at the remaining portal cultists, but for now the portal remains strong, and Dark Assassins continue to pour out. Their numbers have started to overwhelm Lathrik, who valiantly holds his ground regardless.

Seeing his son struggle, Fray shifts Solari onto his back with the murmured instruction to ‘hold on,’ and takes up his sword in both hands. In a storm of flashing steel and swinging legs as Solari clings to his back like a cloak, Fray begins to whirl violently through the enemy, granting Lathrik a moment of reprieve as the Dark Assassins scatter to escape his blade.

Lathrik uses this moment to take in the rest of the battlefield, eyes widening in alarm as the Shadows near members of the team and a rock elemental barrels down on Bertrand. “Oi, have a care!” he calls. A bolstering Light radiates outward from him, enveloping his allies, guarding them. Notably, it does not affect Lathrik himself.

The Shadow Copies are unaffected by Dane’s shockwave, continuing their dread march like the Lich King in the Halls of Reflection. There is no longer time to escape. When they reach him the copies explode in a painful blast one after another, softened slightly by the Light of Lathrik’s spell. The shadows swiftly expand to strike in an area, a wider explosion than expected. Thankfully, no one else is in range, with Shun and Aszera having moved away to pursue other enemies.

In a similar explosion of shadow, the two Copies nearest Estel make contact, her sacrifice protecting her allies behind her from the blast. While the damage eats through her shield, the combined protection afforded by hers and Lathrik’s spells make the blow significantly less painful.

Likewise do two Shadow Copies reach Siamus, exploding with the same force as the others, lessened by Lathrik’s Light, but painful nonetheless. The orc Elementalist, his spell having been interrupted and his wind stolen from him, lets out an enraged shout, unhooking a mace from where it hangs at his side and enchanting it with fire. He closes on Siamus, ready to give the Admiral a taste of his fury.

The stone elemental reels back in pain as the exploding shots send pieces of rubble raining down from where they struck, but it still only has eyes for Bertrand, the one who wounded it. It presses forward, raising its uninjured arm to strike down at him.

From around the side of the northern hut, Shun’s flurry of knives find purchase in the back and side of two of the channeling cultists. One of them visibly staggers, blood soaking his clothes, while the other lets out a pained whine. Both manage to keep the channeled spell going, for now.

Almeiria, recovering a bit of vitality thanks to the flowing Light from the Sanctuary spell, lashes out at the nearest thing, which happens to be the rock elemental, her magic leeching from its life force to help mend the hurts of her allies.

Shun's head snaps to the side as he hears Estel cry out in pain. The building blocks his vision, though. Clutching his weapons a little tighter, he hurries on towards the cultist circle, lunging forth at one of the wounded.

Lena shifts from corruption to sending bolts of shadow toward the summoners.

Dane issues a tense growl as he's battered by the explosive force of the shadow copies detonating. He instinctively raises his shield, but is slammed with magical pain the nonetheless. Keeping his feet, he stomps backwards, and vigorously shakes his head back and forth, only to refocus on the giant stone elemental and Bertrand.

He winds up, Thunderfury crackling, before he launches a thunder bolt at the elemental [Heroic Throw], and proceeds to charge through the crowd of comrades to try and get its attention, his speed accelerated as he remains conscious of his path so as to not run any allies over. If, or when, he closes the distance, he'd try to strike at the elemental from behind to grab its attention before slowly back pedaling. "On me, damn you!" he booms, shield raised.

Shine, shifting swiftly in and out of shadow behind the earth elemental, is untouched by the rocky debris from exploding arrows and from heroic thunderbolts, but as Dane taunts the creature, Shine ambushes it from behind, his knives seeking purchase in gaps or crevices in its stone-plated surface.

"Thanks," Bertrand says as Dane draws the elemental's attention and Shine backs him up. He circles southwest to fire at the three cultists still maintaining the portal that Fray and Lathrik are fighting in front of.

Aze launches herself towards Siamus and the elementalist with a sudden burst of speed that comes with a flicker of fel fire. She attacks the elementalist with both swords drawn, but is careful not to block Siamus. She's here to help and distract, not kill-steal.

Siamus staggers back, twisted this way and then that by the invisible body blows of the shadowy explosions. He sags and then drops to one knee, his head hanging.

After perhaps two harsh, racking breaths, he lifts his head. His gaze flicks to the side to watch Aze sweep in. When he focuses again on the orc, he shows his teeth in a smile that is as much a grimace of pain as it is a feral challenge. He presses himself weaving to his feet and draws his second sword, then advances to meet the orc with both blades drawn.

As Aze briefly captures the elementalist's attention, Siamus lunges at the orc with both weapons. There is a sourceless blue-white reflection in his gaze and a crackling tension in the air around him. His swords meet the orc and his weapon with a snap, and lightning shears along the blades to strike in concert with honed metal.

Aze slips around the elementalist as Siamus strikes. She grits her teeth for a moment, denying a sudden violent instinct, and attacks with blades only, with no demonic enhancement.

Estel throws a healing Shield out to Siamus, and then calls down a pillar of Light that strikes the elementalist. Where it burns, the Light seems to pass through the elementalist's body and move towards Siamus, carrying healing energy with it.

The stone elemental, finally seeming to recognize that it won’t reach Bertrand, spins around to focus on Dane, the bolt chipping away even more of its foundation, not to mention the blow from Thunderfury itself. Before it can strike, however, Shine’s attacks from behind dig into its vulnerable spaces, cracks that had already begun to form that this battle has only exacerbated. The cracks expand, running the length of the elemental until it roars in rage and pain and explodes in a shower of rubble.

A calm follows, and from the rubble, five smaller elementals emerge.

One turns to look up at Dane, tilts its head to regard him with yellow glowing eyes, and in a voice of trickling gravel, says, “Thank you.”

The second turns to Shine to give his foot a pat. Good sneaky shadows guy.

The third rumbles over to Bertrand, circles him twice in a gesture of excitement? Gratitude? Something, before it wanders off.

The fourth rolls up to Almeiria, deposits a pretty agate at her feet, then leaves.

The fifth moves to examine Siamus’s silver kraken pendant curiously. It pokes it once and skitters back a distance to watch.

The Shadow Man’s good eye fixes on the glowing Sanctuary, then on its caster. “Little wolf girl. You are no threat to me.”

Shadows begin to consume Natalyah, a [Devouring Plague] familiar to several of those present.

Natalyah's attention is ripped from slapping her allies with [Renews] like she's playing Whack-A-Gnoll at the Darkmoon Faire (or perhaps like a person who has been trained on dummies with paper faces plastered over their usual Horde symbol), at the taunt.

"I'd agree with you, but then we'd both be wrong," she mocks him with a roar similar to the one before when he saw her through Lathrik's eyes. Even her allies can hear there's something more in this roar, something otherworldly that rings out psychically to her enemies. Be afraid. Run.

But Natalyah falls again to the ground midway — the roar halted on a choking sound, as her skin begins to wither, her silken fur growing patchy before their eyes, her claws raking against the impure earth in futility before stopping suddenly. Her eyes are pure gold as she calms, raising her head up to look at the Shadow Man, something ancient staring at him, even as the worgen's body dies all around her.

Lathrik whirls as the roar cuts off, panic flashing through his eyes as he witnesses a familiar scene. The sickly, withering disease that has claimed a life in front of him before, only this time, it’s taking Natalyah. He reaches out for her, a gentle cleansing Light taking root and spreading from within, pushing out the hungry shadowy tendrils wherever they try to take hold. A flash of healing Light follows, an effort to mend the damage that was done, filled with the hope that maybe, maybe he wasn’t too late this time.

Aszera’s swords score two bloody wounds across the orc’s upper back and shoulder and he swipes furiously at her, but his mace catches only air as the nimble elf slips from his reach. Then Siamus is back in the fight, and the orc takes a sword to the side, narrowly blocking the other one but taking a nasty jolt for his efforts. He reaches for Siamus with his free hand, sending a shock of fire towards him, only for the blow to meet Estel’s shield, where it smolders against the power of the Light. Soon he, too, is smoldering, as a pillar of Holy Fire flashes down on him; he curses violently in orcish. When Aszera moves in and strikes again, the Elementalist drops a fire totem that begins to launch bolts of flame at her, in the hopes of evening his dwindling odds.

Siamus dodges reflexively, a smooth shift of his weight as the elementalist casts his fire shock. He is visibly, momentarily startled as the shock extinguishes itself against Estel's shield — oh, that's nice, wasn't expecting that — and then he is moving again in an effort to kick over the fire totem assaulting Aze.

The storm the elementalist had attempted to channel overhead has been broken, but ominous clouds still eddy in a dark wind. As Siamus sweeps another sword-strike at the orc, a bolt of silver lightning cracks the sky. This time, the orc is its target.

Its initial target: The lightning strikes the elementalist and then chains outward, electric tendrils lashing toward two of the cultists in the as-yet-unbroken circle of channelers behind the orc.

As Aszera passes close to the building beside the Shadow Man, she can make out six shapes crammed inside. Four appear to be on their knees, with two standing over them.

The wounded cultist Shun strikes is unable to defend himself, his focus dedicated fully to maintaining the ritual. His scream is ripped away halfway through as the spell consumes his remaining life force and he crumples to the ground. A few of the other cultists in the circle visibly flinch as the dead cultist’s share of the ritual falls upon them like a weighty burden, and they are forced to give more of themselves to compensate.

The remaining portal spilling out Dark Assassins suddenly flickers and winks out of existence under the combined assault of arrows and shadow bolts against the channeling cultists’ already corruption-weakened bodies.

Fray lets out a triumphant whoop, and carves through the remaining Dark Assassins like pumpkins at Hallow’s End, Solari still clinging dutifully to his back.

“Valendra,” the Shadow Man crackles, “have you forgotten your ambitions? The world was to suffer at your feet as you claimed it in the name of —”

“I have no interest in rejoining the losing side,” Almeiria interrupts. “There is more than one path to power, and much as I adore tentacles, thumbs are simply more useful.”

“I can give you what your winning side cannot,” says the Shadow Man. “Them. To do with as you will.”

“Them? You mean —” Almeiria falls abruptly silent. The rest of the conversation may be taking place in her mind.

The Devouring Plague winks out of existence like a shadow at high noon, the damage reversing as time turns back for Natalyah, the gold in her eyes fading back to their proper brown. She pants heavily, head dropping down in what might be mistaken for defeat, exposing the vulnerable curve of the back of her neck.

And then she pounds a fist on the ground. Sparks of Light fly up like a blacksmith striking a heated weapon, and when Natalyah raises her head again the defiant hope in her expression wages war with pure rage as she hears the Shadow Man's offer, and the way it halts mid-negotiations.

"No. You get out of her head with your pathetic, desperate, flaccid offers," Natalyah orders defensively on Almeiria's behalf (and as Lathrik undoubtedly observes with dismay, with absolutely zero regard for drawing aggro), as she jumps her vision into Almeiria's, not to spy but as if to try to join in with someone holding a door closed by setting her weight against it.

"People in that building," Aze cries out, tilting her head towards the building next to the Shadow Man as she tries to dodge the flames and strike at the totem. "Six, four might be prisoners."

Lena turns her attention to the Shadow Man himself, moving into range to test out a Curse of Tongues.

Despite the sudden collapse of one of the beams of energy keeping the Shadow Man’s barrier intact, Lena’s curse fails to penetrate, and the barrier holds firm.

Shine is still looking bemusedly at his own foot — did… a rock just pat him? — but Aze's words catch him at once and he lifts his head, his gaze snapping to the building in question. He scans his allies for someone to alert to his course before disappearing; he catches Bertrand's eye and tips his head subtly toward the building. Then he vanishes into shadow, off to investigate.

Shun decides to make the circle gang's life even harder. He moves on to try and gut the other wounded cultist before shadowstepping to their buddy.

Dane was already raising Thunderfury to powder this smaller elemental when he’s addressed. He stops himself at the last moment, and grunts down at the creature. He spins around with a short snarl, and looks back and forth between the Shadow Man and Valendra.

He spots Shine disappearing, presumably towards the building, and issues a brief grunt before he, himself, charges towards it to get inside, his gaze momentarily lingering on the untouched cultist circle east of Siamus and Aszera. “Secure the area ‘fore we break that shield!” he barks.

Bertrand does not trip over the little rock elemental, but it distracts him enough to take his eyes off the fight for just a moment.

Looking up again, Bertrand makes eye contact with Shine and nods. He advances towards the building nearest him, using it as cover as he repositions.

A burst of Light bounces from Estel to Natalyah, ready to jump to the next person who gets injured.

Estel moves back towards Almeiria. "Don't let him fucking distract you," she says as she throws out a few more Shields - one to Bertrand, one to Solari, one to Fray.

"Almeiria." Estel's not about to start calling her friend by her birth name without permission. "Focus." She puts a hand on Almeiria's shoulder.

“Altruism,” Almeiria says, her eyes locked on the Shadow Man’s, “means doing something that is good for others, even if it goes against what you personally wish for. Do I have that right?” Despite her fixed gaze, her question is directed to Estel.

"Yeah," Estel says. "That's right. Aze mentioned people in the building. Is this about to be another hostage situation?"

“It seems some blood relatives of mine are unfortunately still among the living, much as I wish it were otherwise,” Almeiria says, her gaze finally tearing away to follow Dane to the building.

As a second, then a third vulnerable cultist falls to Shun’s blades, their ritual begins to spiral out of control, exploding in a violent swell of power that claims the lives of the remaining cultists and unleashes a shockwave throughout the battlefield that does more damage the closer someone was to the portal.

Lathrik and Fray brace themselves against the shockwave, but its power is greatly reduced by the time it reaches them, just a dull ringing of pain reverberating in their bones.

Almeiria, a little closer, is startled into nearly losing her footing, and she turns to glare in the direction of the explosion.

Estel quickly steadies Almeiria with her hand on her shoulder.

The shockwave was not expected. Shun rolls to try and get away but gets clipped still. The blast knocks him off his feet.

The orc Elementalist’s strength begins to flag under the combined assault of Aszera and Siamus, and as his totem takes hits from both of them it bursts into a wave of flame, meeting its fiery demise in style. Lightning striking the orc causes him to drop to one knee, letting out a pained bellow as he swipes one more time at Siamus, his mace still alight in a red-orange blaze.

The lightning arcs to the cultists in the southeastern circle, jarring one of them badly enough that she releases her hold on the ritual with a yelp. Unwilling to meet their brethrens’ fate, one of the cultists barks out orders and suddenly, the air around them is filled with a sort of draining pressure. A mana draining pressure. The cultists seem to be drawing energy from everyone present to fulfill the requirements of their ritual.

Lathrik, recognizing that something is amiss, drains a mana potion, tossing the vial aside where it breaks on the hard elementium stones, and stumbles back towards Natalyah.

Natalyah deals with the shockwave by casting yet another [Levitate] on herself, as she leaps back out of Almeiria's vision. She manages to stomp her only foot down on the not-ground she floats on to make an instant [Circle of Healing] that crashes into her still hurt allies in its own shockwave in retaliation.

Natalyah is mid-cast of a powerful [Prayer of Healing] when Lathrik stumbles back to her, and she reaches for him as her fur bristles with the sensation of her mana draining away, the spell interrupted. She doesn't have time to get a shield on herself, or she forgets in her panic — a priest mistake — before she starts singing the first song that comes into her head for the Hymn of Hope.

It's a lullaby-sounding song, wildly out of place in this battlefield, as sweet and hopeful as a new mother with her child, the one Lathrik hummed for her just the night before. Those with mana feel the surge of the hymn, a wave rising up, a flood of power for eight precious seconds to do something about what's happening.

Estel quickly Shields Natalyah, then Lena, then Aszera with the mana that Natalyah's song affords her.

Solari, newly resettled in Fray's arm, peeks over her shoulder at Natalyah again, recognition in her eyes. Even Fray turns, surprised, towards the familiar sound in an unexpected place.

For the first time since they have seen her, Solari raises her voice, forming actual words as she sings along.

Hush now, my little ones,
'til morning comes and brings the sun.
The night is long, the sky is dark,
But hear my voice and know you're safe.
If danger comes I'm by your side,
My song will shield you through the night.
Be at peace my little ones,
'til morning comes and brings the sun.

Now it is Lathrik's turn to stare. "I didn't… know there were words," he says.

Siamus parries the elementalist's mace-blow, sidestepping; as he does, he drives his second blade home in the orc's gut, then wrenches it upward and out with a vicious twist.

And then he's stumbling to keep his feet as the shockwave from the northern circle's collapse rocks outward. He catches himself and shakes his head as if to get his bearings; his furious focus on the orc had been so all-consuming that it takes him a few seconds to catch up with the rest of the battle.

He shakes his head a second time, perplexed by the sensation of mana draining from the battlefield. It isn't until he hears Natalyah's song and feels the tide of mana rise again that he realizes what's happening. "Them!" he calls to Aze, and points a sword at the circle of cultists. "Them!" He starts toward them himself.

After Siamus guts the elementalist, Aze quickly follows with a beheading. Then the shockwave hits, and she stumbles, with a grunt of pain. She looks at the elementalist's body and takes a breath, and seems to recover a little.

She doesn't notice the mana drain at all, but she snaps to attention at Siamus's order. She spins and launches herself towards the ritual circle.

The orc Elementalist falls, and if there was any doubt about his health, all questions are swiftly answered after the beheading.

Lena makes a gesture with one hand, and she is very quickly quite injured. She winces at the pain, but then shifts her and her demon's attention to the ritual circle and begins unleashing shadow bolts again.

Bertrand looks at the building. He could circle around to the back, but that would put him out of line of sight of the team's healers, so instead he creeps along the closer edge, peeks around, and starts shooting cultists.

The two injured cultists fall to a combination of Bertrand’s arrows and Lena’s shadow bolts, and a third staggers as Lena’s magic impacts him. The new absence in the ritual increases the pressure of the mana drain, a strong suction devouring anything within reach, as the ritual itself begins to spin out of control, with only three cultists directing it.

Inside the Building

Inside the building in question, two men and two women, bound hand and ankle in spiked chains, kneel before two cultists; an axe bearing tauren and a knife wielding dwarf. The prisoners are dressed in rags, and blood smears their faces and their limbs where the spikes have dug in. They will need healing.

Atley pauses in the doorway to assess the situation, rugged features twisting with rapidly growing disgust. He glares and grunts before charging in to try and punch directly through the tauren's chest with Thunderfury.

Shine takes his cue from Dane and materializes behind the dwarf, garrote-wire ready to attempt to cut off any spells or warning cries.

The tauren lets out a frenzied battle cry upon seeing Dane, and is already rushing him when the knight charges, axe raised. Thunderfury finds its intended target, but the axe continues its downward arc towards Dane’s shoulder.

The dwarf moves to join in the tauren’s assault, but is halted by the unexpected garrote. He twists, thrusting his knife back behind him, in an effort to convince Shine to release him.

The eldest woman in chains wriggles, trying to retreat from the combat, her expression fearful even as the spikes dig deeper into her at the movement.

The young man, however, sits up eagerly. “Stormwind — are you from Stormwind?”

Shine does not consider himself from Stormwind, but he neither answers nor elucidates upon this, as he is currently trying not to get stabbed by the dwarf he is trying to garrote who is simultaneously trying to stab him in response to said garroting.

Crunch! Dane is struck in the shoulder by the tauren's axe. He takes a step back to ground himself, knees bending to weather the tremendous force. Blood immediately starts trickling through the joints of his armor, pitter-pattering against the ground. He turns away from Shine and the cultist dwarf, completely ignoring them, a testament to his confidence in the ability of the former.

"Aye," he growls through gritted teeth at the young, imprisoned man. "We are going to get you out of here. But I need your help." He looks from the young male prisoner to the older woman. "It's not safe outside. Not yet, but it'll be soon. We've healers that'll see to you."

Dane starts marching in to strike at their chains with Thunderfury, his actions slowed by his recent injury. "Keep them calm," he tells the younger man, nodding to the prisoners. "Orderly. And conserve wot' strength you have left. We'll be running, soon."

On the Battlefield

Siamus charges the cultist rocked by Lena's shadowbolt and turns his momentum into a spinning strike, one blade and then the other, in an attempt to finish the shaken cultist off.

Aze moves quickly to start on the remaining cultists from the other end, striking the first so hard and fast one might think she's trying to cut directly into his soul.

Shun pushes himself back to his feet and shakes his head. As he reassesses the current state of the battlefield, he notes where the Shadow Man is looking. Right at Estel.

His eyes narrow. He can't see the state of the second cultist circle from here, but he can only hope the rest of the team can deal with them promptly. Very promptly.

Because he's hurrying over to the shielded Shadow Man and shadowstepping to close the gap, daggers ready to strike flesh should his timing be sound.

Almeiria disperses into shadows and drifts towards the cultist circle, trying to conserve what mana she has until she can reach it.

Visibly paling, Lathrik presses one of his mana potions into Natalyah’s hand, offering a shaky smile. A smile that soon twists into a soundless cry of pain as his hand clutches at his chest.

Shadows begin to consume his eyes as Lathrik struggles against the dominating power. “No…” he growls. “Not like this…”

Solari goes limp in Fray’s arm as she wins the battle, the last of her magic devoted to this one thing. With a staggering clumsiness, Lathrik begins to run towards the lake.

The Shadow Man watches Lathrik run impassively, his gaze turning to Estel. “Suffer,” he says, the Devouring Plague landing on her this time, attempting to consume her from the inside.

Estel's skin begins to wither and dry. She reaches down into the loose neckline of her robe, draws a golden vial from her potion bandolier that she is wearing underneath, and drinks it. The disease recedes, and she Shields herself to restore her own vitality.

Bertrand frowns as he looks from Solari to Lathrik. He jogs towards Estel and Natalyah. "Dinnsfield!" he calls. Then, to everyone: "Brace yourselves, there's going to be backlash when that spell snaps!"

Natalyah freezes as the shadows consume Lathrik's vision, and she looks on in horror at the Shadow Man with the collapse of Solari. "Don't — " she starts and stops. She knows why Lathrik runs, what he fears will happen next if he loses consciousness, and what her promises hold her to do.

Natalyah thrusts the mana potion into Estel's hands, and then the worgen is off in blur of incredible speed, a dark flight as fast as a horse (a mare, if one was wondering), her claws ripping into the ground with one singular target in mind — the last channeling cultist. It's a gamble, a risk, but one she is willing to make.

She launches herself past the others, her jaw open wide, and as spoken of before with her methods of combat, she has one move that doesn't involve mana at all: her teeth close around the cultists neck, directly into the carotid artery, crunching through muscle and bone, ripping outward as the blood sprays hot and brightest red.

The cultist fighting Aze is immediately pulled away from the ritual and into self-defense. He is not a match in this style of fighting. Aze breaks his meager defenses in short order, slashing once across his chest with a splash of blood and then spinning with force to lodge the other blade in his throat and rip it out fatally.

Aze turns as Natalyah launches into the cultist next to her, and she nods briefly in approving recognition of the violence.

Then she steps back to see who remains alive who really should be otherwise.

Siamus has also stepped back from the body of a cultist, and watches Natalyah's assault on the final member of the circle with an air of slightly disconcerted admiration. Look at Miss Kensington-Whit go.

There is indeed a powerful backlash as the last cultist maintaining the portal falls in a spray of blood. All the mana drained from the team returns with a violent force, a shockwave even more powerful than the last ripping through the area.

Lathrik, despite being some distance away, is clearly unprepared for the sudden burst of energy, and he trips, meeting the ground with a heavy thud. He does not immediately rise, and Solari twists in Fray’s grasp, letting out a distressed “Mmm…” sound before her eyes finally blink open.

Almeiria welcomes the surge of power, strengthening the shadows around her to lessen its violent impact, before turning immediately on the Shadow Man, whose barrier flickers and fades away.

Just in time, in fact, for Shun’s blades to find a soft landing in the man’s side. Between Almeiria’s shadowy assault and Shun’s daggers, the Shadow Man stumbles, leaning heavily on his cane. He looks imploringly at Almeiria, one hand reaching out.

“Valendra… I can save you…” he croaks.

“Do you even know what that word means?” Almeiria shoots back at him.

The Shadow Man begins to chant, as shadows gather around him, his voice echoing with dark power. “Uhnish uull, naggwa uulwi, okom hoq qov Shath’gral!” His form distorts, then grows, morphing into a large n’raqi who swipes violently at Shun in an effort to throw him off like a bothersome gnat.

Inside the Building

Inside the hut, Shine evades the wildly-aimed dagger long enough to draw the wire taut around the dwarf cultist's neck. Blood wells, the dwarf's eyes bulge, and then Shine lets him go and the cultist drops like a sack of stones to the floor of the hut.
The prisoners help each other out of their chains, the younger man and woman taking the initiative. It’s a slow process, the spikes making fresh wounds with each wrong or sudden movement, but eventually, the four of them are untangled.

“We’ll be ready on your signal,” the young man tells Dane.

“Why is this happening to us?” the older woman whimpers, pressing into her husband’s arms.

“We’ll be alright, mother,” the young man says. “They have healers, he said.”

The young woman flashes an encouraging smile.

Dane grunts at the young man and turns on Shine as blood continuously trickles down his arm, giving a nod. "Ought to get out there and help end this. Send in a healer once it's over."

He looks back to the prisoners. "Anything I should be aware of 'fore we get moving?" he asks, quickly inspecting each of them.

“Anything like what, sir?” the young man asks Dane, looking up from comforting his mother. “We can run. Right?” He glances over his family members, who nod in turn. “We — yeah, we can. Whenever.”

Shine has stood back to watch the prisoners impassively as they free themselves. He casts a look at Dane now, then back to the prisoners, then nods. He steps sideways and is gone from sight.

On the Battlefield

Siamus, at the shockwave's epicenter when the last cultist dies, is flung backward and off his feet. He finds his bearings in time to roll and come up staggering to his feet, possibly aided by the invigorating surge of returning mana. He turns to take stock of the battlefield.

Aze is flung backwards as well, but finds her feet quickly and takes stock of the situation, diverting her attention to the Shadow Man.

The shockwave hits Natalyah with the last vestiges of Estel's shield, cushioning the worst of the impact, at the rest sends the worgen rolling off the dead body of the cultist; her fur protects her from some, if not all, of the scraping of the tainted ground. She scrambles back up, blood still dripping from her mouth.

"Lathrik!" she calls in anguished distress, trying to run back to the paladin, ignoring the danger of the Shadow Man's transformation.

Bertrand was fully expecting the shockwave. He staggers but does not fall, and he is closer. He jogs after Lathrik, dropping to one knee to check his vitals.

Estel is knocked off her feet, and as she scrambles back up, she flings a Shield out to Shun.

Shun stares down at the Shadow Man as he transforms into something he's never seen before. Estel's shield comes in just in time for him to take a large tentacled hand(?) to his side, absorbing most of the blow.

It's still enough to knock him off the faceless one, but he quickly shadowsteps back to his position, slicing at his legs as he returns.

Lena is knocked off her feet by the shockwave, and she doesn't rise immediately.

Almeiria, keeping one eye on the n’raqi, kneels by Lena. “Lena, dear, do you need a hand?” she asks.

Shine materializes on Lena's other side, down on one knee. He fits an arm carefully beneath her shoulders and attempts to lift her to sitting. "Do you have a stone?" he asks her, concern shadowing his voice. "Do you need — ?" He gives Almeiria an intent, questioning look.

"I… I just… bad timing," Lena mutters weakly, as Shine helps her up. "Already used my healthstone."

Lathrik groans and struggles to push himself up, casting a dazed look over Bertrand. “M’alive…” he mumbles, blood flowing from a cut on his forehead and a scrape along his cheekbone. One hand moves to swipe the blood from his eye, while the other comes to a rest on Bertrand’s shoulder as he tries to steady himself, his gaze roaming the battlefield in an attempt to assess the situation.

A situation that snaps him into a panic-driven focus as the n’raqi, still plagued by Shun at its heels, catches sight of a worgen out of position. It sets off on an intercept course, its long scaly legs clearing the distance with ease, despite the fluids oozing from where Shun has sliced.

“Natalyah!” Lathrik shouts, but his call comes too late.

The n’raqi reaches her, and its tentacled hand appendage coils around her, lifting her off the ground.

Fray, having turned his back as the shockwave hit to protect Solari, is already bounding towards them, booming in his battlefield voice, “RELEASE HER!”

Solari, however, does not look extremely excited about suddenly running towards a large n’raqi and she screams, a scream that pierces Fray’s mind, overwhelming him with the urge to run… elsewhere.

There's no fear in Natalyah's worgen face when the tentacle lifts her up — no, no that's indignant rage. She squirms against the hold, slapping the flesh with all the attitude of a noblewoman against a man taking liberties (albeit with the claws that some women can only wish for).

"How dare you!" she shrieks. "How DARE you! Let me go at once! Unhand me!" The orders have the weight of a lady very used to being obeyed.

When it doesn't, a sickening fear seizes the worgen with its own cold grip, as she looks to Lathrik, reaching for him.

Bertrand helps Lathrik to his feet. "Easy, mate, steady on." His attention whips towards Natalyah as she's scooped up, and he mutters, "Gotta get Talyah some tactics lessons." He draws another black-fletched arrow pulsing with Shadow and fires it at the n'raqi's lower body, avoiding friendly fire.

"She said let her GO!" Estel Shields Natalyah in healer solidarity and then channels a beam of healing Light directly at Lena.

Almeiria stands clear of the beam of Light from Estel, making sure it hits Lena as it should. She tosses her head. “It would make things inconvenient if you were to die here,” she says. “Do take better care of your health, dear.” And then her attention is back on the n’raqi.

Shun continues to hound the N'Raqi from behind, slicing away at where tendons in theory would be on a human in an attempt to topple the big guy. The n’raqi’s legs and ankles are thick; it may be a little while before Shun finds what he seeks, but his blades do deepen the flow of ooze gushing forth.

Meanwhile, Natalyah continues to hound the n'raqi from within its grasp (because worgen), the shield of Light wobbling all around her as it's squeezed. She clenches her teeth, a brief flash of an impulse to bite at the creature thought and then banished. The last thing this fight needs is a new worgen/n'raqi hybrid.

Inside the Building

Dane produces a waterskin from his belt and tosses it towards the young man. “Good. Spread that about. Each of you have a taste.”

He turns towards the exit and looks outside to survey the battle in whatever way he can. The strap of his shield squeaks with growing restraint, his fist clenching around it as he takes in the scene, noting those downed and those still fighting.

The young man almost fumbles the waterskin, his grip weak from captivity and injury. Only after passing the skin around to the women and his father does he take a drink himself, offering it back to Dane when he’s finished.

“I can fight,” he says, his green eyes sharp and alert. “I don’t know what they’ve done with my sword, but I —”

“Isel!” the mother cries, horrified. “You fight bandits, not… madmen!”

Dane suddenly glares, brow knitting tightly as the Shath'Yar invades his mind again. He gives his head a brief, controlled, feverish shake, grunting with the pain of his wounded shoulder as he leans down to produce a brutal-looking vrykul dagger from his boot, long enough that it's just shy of qualifying as a short sword.

He flips the sharp and sturdy blade around in his hand and offers Isel the grip. "We'll have you lot travel in the center of us, but carry this, just in case. I'll be wanting it back," he growls semi-lightheartedly, deftly refastening the waterskin to his belt.

“Yes, sir,” Isel says, taking the blade and testing the weight of it.

The mother tries to shriek out another protest, but her husband and daughter calm her, murmuring things in reassuring tones.

On the Battlefield

Lathrik wobbles to his feet with Bertrand’s help, giving the other man’s shoulder a squeeze before retrieving his sword and starting at a run towards Natalyah and the n’raqi.

Bertrand’s shadowy arrow finds a mark just below the creature’s chest, sticking into its thick hide while the shadow spreads its infection. The n’raqi’s focus, however, is on the worgen in its grasp.

Let go? The n’raqi’s voice echoes in the minds of everyone nearby, even as it speaks in unintelligible Shath’Yar. Unhand? Very well.

The creature takes several more bounding steps forward, then throws Natalyah, and it doesn’t take more than a second to realize where it’s aiming. A large elementium spike protrudes from the building that housed Solari, its twisted angle making it the perfect skewer for a tossed worgen.

“F—” Lathrik skids to a halt as Natalyah is thrown towards certain death, Light gathering around him as he reaches for her, encasing her in a familiar shell.

The shell of Light holds as it impacts the spike, and continues to hold as it falls and collides with the ground, and only there, with Natalyah in relative safety, does it fade. Lathrik himself turns towards the n’raqi, placing himself between it and Natalyah as he hurls a hammer of pure Light at it to keep its attention.

“Oi, not a great place for a walk, aye?” he calls back to her, his voice shaking a little.

There is no moment when the worgen surrenders to her possible fate. She fights harder against the n'raqi as death rises up to meet her, gold flashing in her eyes.

And when it doesn't, when it stops, and she lands softly on the ground, she reaches out not in distress, but to touch the edges of the shield of Light. Her body moves in the start of a sob of relief, raw and unfeigned, and catches on his words into something like a laugh. It's what makes her able to recast the Levitate, to rise back up.

"Thank you. That's what I needed, an expert in promenading locations." The words are tart and sarcastic; the tone is not. It's sweet bourbon and candlelight.

Natalyah's chest heaves with emotion that is channeled into an outpouring of Light as she casts around her allies, "Sanctuary." She holds herself defiantly, rather than Fading out of notice, as she spits verbal nails at the Shadow Man. "I am not helpless."

Lathrik relaxes hearing Natalyah’s voice, and focuses on fending off the n’raqi’s heavy blows, striking whenever an opportunity arises. He has no intention of losing threat to his priest scientist.

Bertrand keeps out of tentacle range and continues to shoot arrows at the n'raqi.

Shun continues his assault from behind. Slice. Stab. Swish. Strike.

Estel glances over her shoulder to make sure Natalyah lands safely, and uses the opportunity to batter the n'raqi with offensive Light spells that burn as they pass through its body to disperse healing Light to those nearby.

Shine watches the n'raqi with the intensity of a guard dog straining at its leash, but he doesn't yet leave Lena's side until he's sure she's steady.

Lightning tears another jagged, brilliant crack in the night to strike at the n'raqi from the restless sky as Siamus approaches. He skirts warily to find combat openings among arrows and spells and Shun's anatomical research.

Lena gets firmly back on her feet, and unleashes creeping corruption on the n'raqi of a type it might not be used to. She turns away from it to look at Shine and give a nod. She's alright.

Aze stalks towards the n'raqi with a faint shimmer of fel heat running along her blades, also looking for the moment to attack.

The beleaguered n’raqi, blood oozing from its wounds, gathers shadows around it and unleashes a volley of chaotic shadowy masses that begin raining down on the group, painful vibrations emanating from their impact points even when they fail to strike a target. Everyone present is able to feel the shadows weakening them, sapping their vitality.

Bertrand’s vision is overtaken by the image of a massive wave, large enough to engulf even the Aspenwood Vineyard in its shadow. A voice echoes in his mind. Lost, your brother drifts in the deep…

Bertrand goes stock-still, staring into nothing, as Shadow crashes down on him. He flinches, lowering his bow, and drops to his knees as he is battered.

Only visible to Aszera, an image of Syarra steps out from around the side of the n’raqi, runesword drawn, expressionless as usual as she stalks towards Aszera. The intent to kill glows in her cold blue eyes. A voice whispers, Who pulls the puppet’s strings?

Aze tries to dodge the bombardment, but it doesn't really help. Then she shifts her focus to something next to the n'raqi, though nothing is actually there. There's an edge of panic in her voice as she says, "No, I won't let you."

An image of Estel’s lifeless corpse flashes through Shun’s mind, along with a voice. Drown in deepest despair. He awaits you in its depths…

Shun recoils a bit from the sudden image flooding his mind. He shakes his head and looks over to where he had last seen Estel on the battlefield.

A very much still living Estel is visible at times through the n'raqi's legs, Light glowing around her, alive and looking pissed off.

Shun lets out a small breath before narrowing his eyes at the N'raqi. It seems that may have just pissed him off more than cause despair. He continues his assault, still seeking out those weakpoints.

Fray, unable to get close to the n’raqi without risking another scream from Solari, shelters in place, trying to take the brunt of the shadowy strikes to spare his wife. He is not extremely successful.

Siamus grunts as the shadowy barrage strikes and then staggers him. He shakes his head as if, again, to shake away some inner fog. Then Aze's panicked remark summons his focus. He turns toward her to defend against whatever this new threat is.

There is no new threat — not that he can see. The shadow-volley strikes again and he finds himself winded, trying to catch his breath.

"Balls," Estel mutters, and begins to throw out Shields like candy to the healers - herself, then Almeiria, then Natalyah. The Shadow Crashes chew through them.

On the Battlefield

At first, Natalyah slaps the [Renews] on, as her training has informed her to do. Don't overheal. Pace your mana. A [Prayer of Mending] chimes across the battlefield, hitting her allies before dissipating into the air.

But it's not enough. The incoming damage far out scales the healing, and it doesn't stop. It doesn't relent. It's a storm of shadow, and as it darkens the very air around them, choking off life with destructive chaos, it becomes clear that it may extinguish their lights within it.

Unless.

Natalyah looks at Solari, and at Lathrik. "You didn't mean I'm Lathrik's weakness," she says, in a whisper realization, as she turns her attention to the Shadow Man n'raqi. "You meant I'm his."

She turns over from her sit back into a run as she dashes towards Estel at a dark flight sprint. "Estel — Barrier!" She skids to a halt near the other priestesses, her arms reaching upwards as the Levitate takes hold, one more gasp of an order in between the crashes. "Almeiria. The Divine Hymn!"

Natalyah doesn't wait for agreement. The worgen rises up several feet above the ground, her arms lowering in a controlled arc to each side, her head tipping back like a wolf to a howl. Everyone here has heard her sing before; she has an ordinary voice. But not now — something joins her, ascending it into something heavenly, as a beam of pure golden Light emerges from this point of origin, a true channeling of divinity itself. The healing is potent beyond normal measure, as it touches many of her allies, the shadows denied with the full force of her will to claim them so long as she keeps singing.

Almeiria opens her mouth to protest, but the worgen leaves no room for argument. With the huff of a sigh, Almeiria prepares to join her, her shadowy protection disappearing in a curling mist as she reaches for the Light instead, something few present have seen her do.

The Light engulfs her as she begins to sing, not the dark, dissonant sound of Shath’yar, but a clear, pure hymn of the Church of Light, a match to Natalyah’s. Her voice is surprisingly pretty when not being used for snarky sarcasm or the tongue of the Old Gods, and the healing spilling forth from her has a strange, almost innocent vulnerability to it, a depth of compassion one might not expect, given her usual words and attitude.

"I got you!" Estel calls rather than the more traditional Power Word. It still works: A shimmering Barrier of Light appears in a dome above herself, Almeiria, Natalyah, and Lena. They can see out and others can see in, but the impact of the Shadow is greatly lessened inside.

Siamus has straightened, is breathing easily again; his distracted focus has gone to Natalyah.

Shine, who had only just begun to step away from Lena and toward the fight, veiled in his own cloak of shadows to protect — at least temporarily — against the bombardment, sheds that veil in an echo of Almeiria's more deliberate gesture. He is gazing at her inscrutably.

Lena stands firm, strengthened by the priestesses song. She looks between Natalyah and Almeiria as if at a riddle she hasn't quite solved.

Aze is not paying attention to the song. She is advancing on the figure by the n'raqi. The one who doesn't exist.

Seeing the Light of the Barrier, Fray sprints towards it, sheltering Solari against his body as if that will somehow spare her from pain. It doesn't. Solari twists and writhes uncomfortably, making soft sounds of protest as fear dances in her eyes. The writhing lessens, then stops altogether as the songs spread their healing magic, and the pain of the crashing shadows is dulled by the Barrier.

Lathrik begins to glow, his own Light responding to the Light from the hymn, as he slams into the n'raqi with his shield.

Inside the Building

Atley grunts as he feels the shadow’s effects. He grits his teeth, leaning on the entryway to the hut as even more of his strength is sapped. He flits his gaze around the battlefield, watching the reactions of his comrades as they fall under and endure more foul illusions. Refusal to leave the prisoners keeps him in place, at least for now.

The song reaches even inside the hut, where Dane waits with the prisoners, the sound and healing carrying through the walls to mend their wounds.

Atley looks over the prisoners with a grunt of acknowledgment as they're healed, and the blood trickling down his arm ceases, with great relief. He raises his shield hand and shows them his palm, still lingering on the doorway. "Stay here. Stay ready. It's not time yet," he remarks, glaring at the n'raqi from within the hut.

Seeing that the prisoners have been healed, he charges out and leaps into the air to strike at the n'raqi's back with Thunderfury, to add to the pain.

On the Battlefield

Suddenly distracted from Lathrik by the sound of Almeiria’s voice raised in song, the n’raqi turns, its cold gaze fixated on her. “I have seen your fate,” it says. “If you persist, death is the only mercy I can grant.”

Lathrik’s brows snap together. He can already see where this is going. “Oi. OI! Face me!” he shouts, slashing furiously with his sword, but the n’raqi ignores him entirely.

Even as the n’raqi’s shadow falls over her, Almeiria keeps up the song, though the threat of death adds a tremor to her voice. The n’raqi’s tentacle plunges towards her, slowed by the Barrier of Light. In the end, it makes no difference. With a soft, sickening thud, the tentacle lances through Almeiria’s chest, a Mortal Strike that even the healing from the hymn struggles to undo.

Solari lets out a wail of distress as Almeiria’s blood splatters onto the ground at her feet, but still the priestess sings, her defiant will evident, though her voice is now laced with pain.

Fray shouts in pure rage, swinging at the tentacle, his broadsword biting deep. Using both hands, the force might have severed it, but even his one-handed strike is enough to convince the n’raqi to withdraw. Almeiria staggers, somehow keeping her feet, but it is clear; she is dying.

Siamus slams into the n'raqi's back with a snarl of rage, trying like Lathrik to attract its attention — too late, it seems, for Almeiria. The air around him shimmers and sparks again, and he drives a blade blue-silver-sheathed with lightning at the creature.

Shine utters a profoundly filthy phrase under his breath in a Kul Tiran accent so thick he might as well be speaking a foreign language. He is gone, and then he is there between Shun and Siamus, his blades swift and precise.

Lena turns to Almeiria, her face paling, and then to the n'raqi. She hurls a hastily gathered coil of horrifying fel at the creature, by reflex. It is how she would try to defend herself.

Aze is distracted from attacking her phantom assailant by the fatal injury done to Almeiria. She grits teeth that have grown suddenly sharper, and says quietly, "The mission, Yara. You would understand."

Then she vaults herself in between the n'raqi and the dying priestess.
Siamus gives a hoarse, inchoate shout at Aze's action.

Estel narrows her eyes and takes a step closer to Almeiria. A wisp of Shadow snakes around their feet in a figure-eight. In the space of a blink, the two of them appear to have swapped places.

There is a tattered hole in the front of the robes of the singing priestess, who appears to be Estel now, but through that hole is perfectly intact skin.

To the left of the singing priestess now stands Almeiria, dressed in the more elaborate robes with the larger mantle. Everyone knows that the real person in charge always has the biggest shoulders. "Nice try," Almeiria says mockingly, a too-sweet smile curving her lips before her Shadowform envelops her.

(The blackness of Shadow is great for hiding blood, which will soon begin to seep through the front of her robes.)

Only Aszera can sense the truth, if she is paying attention to what is going on behind her: it is merely the wound that has shifted from Almeiria to Estel. They have not changed places - it is merely an illusion of Shadow.

Natalyah can't stop singing, not now, not with the shadow magic still pummeling her allies and even worse, with one of them dying. Resolutely she keeps her head tipped back, her arms at her side, continues to channel the last notes of the hymn as she pours a desperate push towards life into her song.

As Shun continues his assault, he notes the shift of priestesses as one gets skewered. There's only a small light of confusion in his eyes. Why did they change attire? And since when could Estel sing like that?

"How did you…" Aze says, confused, and then calls, "Help Estel."

Then she dodges back from nothing, bringing her own blades up in defense, still trying to keep herself between the n'raqi and the priestesses.

Siamus casts a glance that way. Help Estel? Estel looks fine. Did she… move, though?

That also gets Shun's attention.

"What?"

Atley notes the swap out the corner of his eye with a glare of immediate and immense confusion before he continues striking at the N'raqi with Thunderfury.

"I think Estel is dying," Aze says. She does not offer any explanation. She does not have any explanation. That's all there is, Shun, good luck.

The n’raqi, swaying from the force of the blows hammering it from all sides, remains fixated on Almeiria, something near desperation in its actions now. “You cannot escape the Void. Shel uhnish, uul w’ssh,” it says. Void magic gathers around its tentacled limbs, then snaps violently around Almeiria as it activates a Shadow Word. “Shuul!”

Almeiria collapses on the spot, and by the time she hits the ground her shadowform is gone and the illusionary portion of the spell has faded. It is Estel who lies there, and Almeiria is the singing priestess - as she has been all along.

At that, Shun's eyes keep darting between Almeria and Estel, trying to figure out what the hell Aze meant. As the n'raqi lashes out once more, he shadowsteps up to try and get onto its back, aiming his dagger into the crook of where its neck should be.

It's then that he sees the shadow priestess's form crumple to the ground and the truth of what a part of him had suspected all along.

"No!"

In an instant, he's at her side, checking on her.

"Oi. Oi…"

There's no pulse. Her eyes are vacant and lifeless.

The song comes to an end, and Almeiria does not turn to look. Those who can see her face can see an expression frozen on it, something between fear and panic. She doesn’t move, or even call back her Shadowform, her eyes fixed on some middle point on the n’raqi’s body.

“Is…” she begins, but the words die in her throat.

Paranoia follows on the heels of fear, and Almeiria’s gaze darts over the people nearest her even as her hand reaches for her dagger. The look in her eyes is near feral, as though she is prepared for any one of them to attack her suddenly, despite the n’raqi in front of them.

Fray joins Aszera in front of Almeiria, gently setting Solari down next to her before taking up his sword with both hands, his back to her. “Almeiria Fey!” he booms, snapping her attention to him. “The battle is not over. For the sake of your comrades, focus!”

“Don’t you dare presume to command me!” Almeiria snaps back at him, her voice trembling with emotion. Any tears are swiftly swallowed from view by the shadows which rise to consume her.

Bertrand remains on his knees, fully lost in the vision he is experiencing.

"Where's Aspenwood?" Siamus shouts from behind the beast. He has noted a distinct lack of arrows happening in this n'raqi.

Shine takes two swift steps around the monster toward Aze and Fray when he hears Fray's call to Almeiria and Almeiria's response. Wasn't Almeiria just…? Didn't he just swear about it a minute ago?

He casts a look at Almeiria and then one at Shun and the woman on the ground. "Ah. Fuck," he says, and then dodges an angry n'raqi arm.

Natalyah would sink to the ground if she could, but she can't — she hangs strangely in the air, limbs trembling with fatigue, panting harsh breaths out as she levitates, having pushed too far past the limits a person is meant to channel the Divine Hymn, and there is a cost. But even all that, was not enough, not to save everyone.

"N…no," she rasps at Estel's unmoving body, as she reaches out a shaking hand… and nothing happens. She claws at the air, as if trying to find purchase, with increasing desperation. It's the call for Aspenwood that rips her out of despairing attempts to cast a heal, a guardian spirit, anything on someone too far gone. "Birdie?" Natalyah shouts hoarsely, looking for and finding him. With a pained, high pitched canine whine she lifts another hand, and pulls something from somewhere, as she forces a [Dispel] out and over him.

Atley spots Shun and Estel from his periphery, and widens his eyes in a fierce glare. He manages to raise his shield just in time to deflect most of the damage from the swinging n'raqi arm that Shine just dodged, but it still sends him staggering back a step or two with a clang of steel before he charges back in to press the fight to the monster.

He casts a gaze towards the hut where the other prisoners wait.

Lena stares at Estel's body in shock, then she says, "We left the druids… I can help." She rushes over to Estel's side.

Aze braces against nothing attacking her. It seems to be hitting her realistically enough.

Shun's blood runs cold as he finds no pulse. He looks to Lena and nods at her. He can't do anything for Estel now.

Slowly he rises to his feet, narrowing his eyes at the n'raqi. He still has a job to complete. Without a word spoken, he resumes his assault on the faceless one. Focus. Precision.

He'll not stop until one of them is dead.
“Felfire and damnation,” Lathrik swears as he witnesses the death. He moves, attempting to circle around and help block the priestesses and Lena, but the n’raqi swats him away, throwing him back towards Bertrand where he takes a knee, winded.

The creature attempts again to enter their minds, displaying a vision of somewhere familiar to anyone who has visited Count Amerith’s manor. Cultists swarm the manor’s driveway, engaged in a battle with various armed maids and stable hands, a death knight shouting soundless orders to the defenders.

“You will be abandoned in the end, Valendra…” the n’raqi gurgles. “Your allies, vanishing like stars from the sky, leaving you alone in the darkness. I am taking your Count with me.”

And then the n’raqi turns its full attention to Dane, smashing down as if to crush him under its weight.

Dane's gaze snaps upwards, and he raises his shield, used to this position. Nevertheless, he doesn't dare trying to withstand its full weight. He starts backing up, slowly, and attempts to deflect the smash with a growl to try and maintain its focus.

Bertrand is jolted out of one vision and into the next, but it's easier for him to shrug aside the vision of Count Amerith's manor and stand. He aims a poisoned arrow at the n'raqi's back and fires.

Lena raises her hand, an intent expression on her face as dark green and purple energies swirl and form a small, dark gem.

Her eyes flick back and forth, searching for something in the air, similar to how she searches for a soul in summons. Then she pulls the gem down to Estel's chest. It likely doesn't feel the same as the gentle call Estel herself might extend to a recently departed soul — more like spiritually grabbing a wrist than extending an open hand in invitation. Still, it is up to Estel to accept or pull away.

Estel's soul zips into the gem and then flows out into her own body with incredible speed, like she was waiting impatiently to be resurrected the whole time. Her body breathes in, and her eyelids flicker as she peeks at Lena before curling into a ball and instinctively Shielding herself. She begins to cast a longer healing spell on herself, staying quiet. The glimmer of Light around her body is not subtle, but she is counting on the n'raqi's attention staying off her.

Aze startles at suddenly being in a place she doesn't recognize, but her mind balks at the illogic and lack of familiarity, and the vision loses its grip.

Aze still stands there, dazed, in front of the n'raqi, trying to figure out where her sister went.

Natalyah, weakened by the Divine Hymn, staggers strangely in the air like a hanging ghost knocked around by an unseen wind, disoriented by the shift in her vision. She shakes her head, trying to clear it or in denial of what she can see. "Lathrik?" she calls, a shrill note of panic piercing her voice.

Lathrik staggers to his feet, but is forced to drop again. Nope, not enough air yet. Something speaks into his ear, and he reaches for the black box on his belt, scowling.

Almeiria remains focused on the n’raqi, but she visibly trembles, even as her magic does its work.

Fray aims for the n’raqi’s wounded legs. It seems the damage Shun did was enough to reach the vulnerable layer beneath its thick skin. As his heavy swing bites deep, the n’raqi issues a cry of rage and pain, stumbling forward, one leg now useless.

“Heads up!” Fray shouts as the creature falls. “Good work, young Shun!”

Bleeding and worn down, the n’raqi thrashes madly, though the end of its life draws near.

Solari turns towards the twisted Spire of the Bastion itself, staring silently.

Shine buries both daggers viciously in the n'raqi's flank in the place where it probably does not have a kidney. He seems intent on carving said non-kidney right out of the thing.

Siamus skids a step back from the nearby blow aimed at Dane. "Atley!" He spares a swift glance to check on the other man, and then: Did someone order lightning? Siamus has got your lightning right here. Another bolt snaps from that roiling sky to strike as if it's meant to pin the n'raqi in place.

Shun has not stopped stabbing into the n'raqi repeatedly, aiming to cut into any semblance of a weak point that he could manage. It's only easier with the creature slowed to one leg.

If he hears Fray's words, he doesn't show it.

Estel sits up, glancing over her allies, and snaps a Mass Dispel over as many people as possible, followed by a second one to get everyone else.

Bertrand glances at Lathrik. "Easy does it, mate," he says, and continues to shoot the n'raqi.

There's a brief pause as Shun feels Estel's light wash over him. He doesn't look back. He knows.

Aze is slashing at the n'raqi, darting around to attack from multiple angles.

Lena stands by Estel and begins to once again weave corruption at the n'raqi.

Dane drives Thunderfury into the n'raqi's side with all the strength and momentum he can generate. His lips peel back to expose a snarl, and he barely manages to turn away in time before a spurt of black goo splatters across his helmet.

Upon the thunder strike, he rapidly lifts a brow and looks from Thunderfury, embedded in the n'raqi, and the sky in faint confusion.

Natalyah reaches deep into some reserve, pulling the Light upwards up from beneath the unholy ground around the n'raqi where her allies cluster, the tiny golden specks glittering all around the Shadow Man, sparking in those ending him, in a true insult to what will soon be his final injury. "Sanctuary," she commands between gritted teeth.

At long last, under the combined assault of everyone gathered, the n’raqi shudders and stills. Its form melts back into that of a battered old man, gasping his last breaths. “Halessa… With his death may you…find peace,” he splutters, his gaze growing distant. “My soul… feeds the eternal Void…”

As life fades from his body, one last image presses into the minds of those gathered. A young woman on her wedding day, waving joyfully at her father from beside her new husband. Any who have seen the groom would know him as a young Count Amerith.

Shine steps back from the n'raqi corpse, blades still in hand, like he is prepared for it to do a jack-in-the-box act. When it does not, after a moment he turns to survey the priestesses and Lena expressionlessly, and then, maybe weirdly, steps around the n'raqi and Dane to take two strides to Siamus.

Siamus himself is standing wearing an expression that says his face isn't quite sure how to face at the moment, check back later. He startles when Shine claps a hand on his shoulder, and then grunts as Shine crushes him in a back-thumping embrace. It is literally 300% more Shine emotion than anyone here has seen ever, except possibly Lena.

Then Shine steps away and is impassive again. Moment done, emotions re-shelved alphabetically.

Siamus has collected his face as well, and sheaths his swords to take stock of the battlefield. He strides toward the others. "Everyone here all right?"

Overhead, an Extremely Ominous carrion-bird that appears to be somehow woven of vine and bone circles low. Shine glances up at it. It banks silently and soars off again toward the north.

Natalyah's expression is hard to read, but her body language speaks its own volumes — the worgen is only upright because of Levitate. She shivers with fading adrenaline, dark drying blood having stiffened her usually silken black fur all around her muzzle. Her robes are as pristine as before, thanks to some incredible enchantments, the tatters of the remains of her Twilight disguise having been lost in the battle.

As if Siamus' question accused her of not being all right (it did not), Natalyah forces a second third some-wind-number rallying, lifting her head defiantly. "Yes," she claims stubbornly. She seeks out Lathrik again, but only stutters forward a few strange drifting inches, as she searches his face for any indication of his well being, and that the toxic link has been broken. "Lathrik…"

Estel makes a noise of irritation and dispels the second vision from the group as she stumbles to her feet, reaching out to Lena for support. "Fuck, did I die?"

Lena offers a hand in support. "For a little while, yes. Only for a little while."

Estel takes Lena's hand to rise, squeezes it once in thanks, and lets go. "Confirm the kill?" she says, probably directed at Shun.

Almeiria has finally, finally turned to face Estel, but she doesn't say anything, and whatever face she is making is hidden behind the Shadowform.

After he falls, Shun goes to verify the death, as Estel requests.

Bertrand offers Lathrik a hand up. "Who was in there, Sir Atley?"

Dane retracts his head as the image presses into his mind. He squints faintly at the familiar face before he grunts and looks to Bertrand, and then to the hunt. "Prisoners. They've been healed," Dane says, jogging to the hut.

Aze is still tense, like she's expecting something to jump out at her. She doesn't answer Siamus's call, and starts to wander away from the group.

"Aszera," Siamus calls sharply, and heads after her to put a hand on her shoulder. "Aszera. Ye well?"

Aze startles at the touch and says, "Yes, I'm fine, I just have to… There was… I saw…" she falls silent, and then her face twists with a sudden rage. "It got in our fucking heads, didn't it?"

"Aye," Siamus says quietly. He looks up at the sky and then back down at Aze. "Aye, it did." He puts an arm around her shoulders briefly to collect her in not-quite an embrace, just a sort of Reassuring Squeeze.

Then he steps away to go find the silver kraken medallion he'd dropped on the ground.

There is a small stone elemental still playing tag with it. It gazes curiously up at him as he approaches.

Siamus stares back at the elemental. He looks around and then back to the elemental. "Cheers," he says politely.

"Cheers," the elemental trickles back at him, as if learning a new word. It circles him exuberantly once, then rumbles away, repeating, "Cheers, cheers, cheers," as it goes.

Siamus stares after it. Slowly, he tucks the medallion away again.

Shine has by now followed Dane toward the prison-hut.

Isel pokes his head out of the hut, vrykul dagger clutched close. "Safe?" he calls. His family is assembled behind him.

Dane stops halfway towards the hut and beckons Isel on. "Aye, let's move. Stay together, stay calm," he growls, dripping with dark n'raqi fluid. He turns back to the group and raises his voice to everyone present. "Four more hostages. Get 'em in the center!"

Shine fades into the shadows again to take up the rear of whatever column is organized. Siamus straightens with his medallion in hand.

"Somebody cut his fucking head off," Estel suggests. "Don't want 'em bringing him back."

"Don't have to ask me twice," Aze says angrily, stalking toward the n'raqi's body with bared blades, ready to behead.

With a nod, Shun goes on to work on decapitating the corpse. Got to make extra sure this guy is dead and stays dead.

Aze helps as she can, cutting off a few other parts for good measure. This guy will not be getting up again.

Lathrik finally finds his feet. His expression is grim, but he seems healthy enough, all things considered. He moves towards Natalyah, after a reassuring nod sent to Bertrand. "Stormwind," he says. "We… I… Someone's got to get back there."

Natalyah reaches out and grabs onto Lathrik's pauldrons with something closer to the way a person might seize another who was about to topple backwards than a lover's relieved hold. "Can you see me?" she demands, a wobbly note sneaking into her voice. He might have the impression that she'd shake him if she had the strength.

Lathrik stares at Natalyah, eyes wild. "I… Aye," he says. "Aye, I can see — " He stops, assessing her, concern snapping over his features. "You'll make it back?"

Almeiria watches Aze for only a moment, before forcing her attention to Solari.

The woman in question lifts a finger, pointing towards the Bastion. "Comes…"

"She will have to make it," Almeiria says, as portals begin to open nearby and cultists spill forth, chanting in the dark language of the Old Gods.

Fray scoops Solari back into one arm, as the prisoners hurry from the hut to find a place in the middle of the group. One of them, however, catches his eye. "Matti?" he calls.

The mother stares at him. "Fray?"

"Time for reunions later," Isel insists. "We've got to go."

"Ah, hell," says Siamus feelingly. "Form up! Atley and Aszera at the fore! Move!" He draws his swords again and closes to join with the rest of the group.

Natalyah looks over at the gathering wave of cultists aghast. "Unbelievable. Apparently when you sell your soul to the damned graceless gods, you give up sense of decorum," she says scathingly, with all the affronted tone of a noblewoman who has closed her doors to a party over and done with, and had new guests show up demanding she resume it.

Tellingly, however, she doesn't start running. She's just holding onto Lathrik. She doesn't admit that she needs help, but she doesn't not admit it in the way she looks at him.

Bertrand fires an ice-gleaming arrow at the base of one of the portals that hits the ground and spreads ice in quite a large radius, forcing individuals to slow or slip or perhaps hover ominously.

Dane nods repeatedly and licks his lips, before immediately spitting out whatever remains he had just tasted. He jogs to the front, between the cultists and the bulk of the group, before he raises Thunderfury and swings it over his head — the blade audibly and visibly crackles with electricity. "Thunder and noise! Take them head on!"

He does as he says, and charges straight forward, smashing the ground with a Shockwave, before he turns sharply to his left to cleave a pair of cultists. One is cleanly sliced through, while the other is merely disemboweled, dropping his swords, crying out and falling to his knees to try and collect his innards. Atley does not oblige this one with a clean death, as he has already moved on and forward, shield raised as a wall, literally running another cultist over.

Aze falls in by Atley as instructed, slicing through cultists with her twin swords as they move forward. They are not Thunderfuries, but the cobalt blades serve well enough to part those who follow the Old Gods from their lives. There's a flicker of fel around her wrists, but she grits her teeth and relies on her bladework.

Siamus waits for the rest of the group to fall in and move, intent on the cultists. I am trying very hard not to make a joke about the rear here. That is where he will be. He will bring up the rear. I am not bringing it up, he is.

Overhead, thunder grumbles ominously and clouds begin to eddy. There is a gust of wind from the east that smells like rain and sea salt.

Lathrik, too, falls in towards the back, especially when he sees Siamus taking the position. There is a bit of a struggle, however, as he adjusts his worgen cape so she is not in the line of fire.

Fray hovers just behind Lathrik and Natalyah, probably to keep an eye on his son.

Almeiria does not waste time seeing who is positioning where. She's in self-preservation mode.

Shun looks up as they have incoming company. With a low grunt, he gets up to start moving with the rest of the group, falling into place by Estel.

He gives her a look, doing a quick check to see how she's doing right now.

Estel touches Shun's arm and mutters, "Hey, you," with a tired smile. She begins calling Shields for their group as they move.

Shun nods at her and pats her hand for a moment. The brief softness in his eyes quickly vanishes as he looks around. With a deep breath, he waves a hand across himself, and a veil of shadows conceals the group for a time.

Shine pauses and exhales, looking around wide-eyed. He nods at Shun. Nice Veil of Shadows, there, bro. Cool AF.

Then he shadowsteps out of it to cut the throats of two cultists — one, two — in swift, mechanical succession before vanishing again.

Lathrik stiffens as the shadows slip over him, and he whirls around to check the others. Oh. This appears to just be A Thing. A good thing? Probably. He relaxes an increment, but keeps his shield ready.

Siamus says something distinctly Kul Tiran under his breath. He was not prepared to be stealthy. He keeps his blades up and his gaze wary.
Aze does not seem to notice the new stealth.

Lena very much does, and looks frightened for a moment, before she notes that no one else is freaking out. Ally thing, then.

Dane furrows his brow and seems to immediately note that he's stealthed. He glances behind him to check in on the formation before pressing forward — stealthily. Dane is doing that. Dane is stealthily advancing.

Shine looks impressed. No one can see it but he does.

Beyond the veil of stealth, a cultist gives a garbled cry and then goes down, the meat of his ripped-out throat and chest painted black by the night. For a moment it looks like some nightmarish skull-headed beast is standing over the corpse, and then it disappears.

There is a moment of confusion from the cultists at the sudden disappearance of their enemies. Some of them start milling around.

Then a large orc shouts, viciously beating the two cultists nearest him out of his way. "Find them!"

Several of the cultists set out totems that pulse fire, in an effort to burn out the escapers. The rest swing wildly — randomly — at the air, hoping for a hit.

Another cultist is scalded by a beam of moonfire, which does nothing to indicate the location of the caster.

Dane won't last long with the random swinging, at least not in stealth.

He looks to the large orc charge, and raises Thunderfury, bringing it down on the leader without warning to try and literally split him down in the middle in a surprise attack, or merely his body.

A huge bear comes lumbering out of the darkness, some of its fur already singed, and starts heading straight for the totems to swat at them.

Shine appears again from the shadows directly behind another cultist who is in the process of chanting a spell. At the exact moment he does so, the nightmare skull-cat also appears behind the same cultist. There is a distinct, ha ha you first moment of awkwardness, and then Shine vanishes again while the nightmare beast eviscerates the cultist.

Lena's helpful felhunter runs over next to the huge bear, and waves an eyestalk in greeting before it turns to the cultists. It's another nightmare creature, ready to play slay.

The bear says "WOT THE F@#$" at the appearance of the friendly felhunter, but continues smashing.

The clouds overhead are being whipped more vigorously by that briny east wind. A spear of lightning arcs brilliantly from above and strikes a cultist, then arcs blinding tendrils from his body to hit two of his colleagues.

Thunder cracks like a belated heads-up.

Natalyah clings to Lathrik as she floats along. Invisible, it's impossible to tell how badly she's flagging.

Shun focuses on maintaining the cloak as long as possible as he moves along. He grits his teeth under his mask. It's a bit rougher to uphold on more than just himself.

The orc, not expecting such an immediate confrontation, melts in a snapping of bone and sinew under Dane's heavy blow, his lifeless body falling wetly to the ground.

As the druids appear and Dane leaves stealth, Fray howls a battle cry and barrels into the nearest cultist, slicing them from shoulder to waist. "COME FACE ME, YE MUSH-BRAINED VILLAINS!"

Lathrik swears under his breath, calling on the Light to smite a cultist that comes too close. The time for stealth is over.

Bertrand groans in frustration and starts shooting totems down as they move.

No longer in stealth, an unnatural inky darkness spread around Aze. She slips in and out of visibility as she cuts her way through the cultists unwary enough to attack.

Dane slowly raises his head as he notes the arrival of the druids. He raises Thunderfury and calls out, "We've linked up! Move!"His voice booms, voice carrying over the field.

The druids having completed their mission, the remaining path to the lake is clear of cultists, leaving only those pursuing from behind, fended off by Lathrik and Siamus at the rear, along with druidic reinforcements.

The feeling starts as a prickle on the back of the neck. A chill shooting between shoulder blades. Something is watching. (Viewing, observing, beholding!) It scratches, a claw pulling threads in the fabric of their minds, testing to see what will unravel. Darkness closes in from behind.

Matti screams, and it’s all Isel can do to keep her from throwing herself to the ground. “We’re almost there, mother, just a little further!” he urges.

Fray leaves off his assault and hangs up his sword, lifting Matti under his free arm like a wooden barrel. Her husband, a notably smaller man, does not object.

"Going up," Estel calls, and she begins levitating people one at a time as they get close to the lake.

Ozzy pokes her. "Do it to me!" she whispers, even though she can just swim.

Estel levitates Ozzy next. Nobody wants to swim in the gross lake with dead people in it, do they?

There's a shake in her hand, but Natalyah does her part as well, casting [Levitate] on the people nearest her, which is mostly Siamus and Lathrik.

Siamus's face does a thing that suggests he was not prepared for that, and he continues to look bemused as he moves out over the water. (What if the water gets… mad at him again?)

Ozzy squeals softly in delight as her feet leave the ground.

Shun waits towards the end, bringing up the rear guard.

On the island in the center of the lake, Emerine finishes removing her diving suit for the second time and gets aboard a gryphon.

Annai turns into a creepy vine-bird and flies low across the water.

Lena, Aze and Merelda move up towards the priestesses, choosing levitation over swimming.

Ozzy has to put a hand over her mouth to smother her giggles of delight as she floats across the water.

Bertrand fires another arrow behind them that hits the ground and spreads out a layer of ice. He floats out over the lake as quickly as he can float, turning occasionally to line up a long-range shot.

Shine nods brief appreciation at the priestesses as he is lifted smoothly above the water's surface. He loiters by the shore for a few moments in case any cult stragglers need their faces shadowstepped to.

Aze floats across the lake, her expression serious.

Lena seems used to this sort of thing, as she makes her way across the water.

"Well, this is useful," Merelda murmurs in appreciation as she's levitated.

Atley immediately accepts the levitation and forcefully leans towards the island, jaw set. He repeatedly glances over his shoulder to account for the others before double-takes Annai — the creepy vine-bird. "Nearly there!" he yells out encouragingly.

Almeiria levitates herself, and… only herself. She drifts out over the water at a swift pace.

Fray does not wait for levitation. Matti and Solari in his arms, he leaps as far as he can, prepared to splash down in the murky water like the giant cannonball he is. Matti screams again. Solari, for her part, looks completely calm.

Fortunately, a levitate catches Fray before he can touch the water’s surface, and he shouts his appreciation to the priestesses.

Now a trembling mess, Matti glares up at him. “You’re a madman, Fray Farrens!”

Fray’s grin is one of exhilaration. “Hate to tell you, Matti, but breakin’ into a Twilight stronghold as we have, there’s not a one of us here that isn’t.”

The rest of the family looks a bit dubious at the levitation, and Isel and his sister both have to help stop their father from flipping over. Working together, however, they manage to guide him out over the lake.

Thanks to Bertrand’s ice trap, incoming cultists are forced to slow, some of them slipping on the layer of ice and further holding up the dread procession.

“Nice cover, mate,” Lathrik calls, before he, the last one across, begins to glow fiercely, unleashing a wave of Blinding Light towards the cultists. Panic and disorientation follows as the cultists halt their advance, blinking sunspots out of their eyes.

Lathrik signals towards Shine. Time to go. He floats backwards over the lake, shield still raised, keeping himself between the cultists and Natalyah.

Shine nods at Lathrik and vanishes. He reappears again a few moments later on the island with the others.

Merelda looks over at the family and murmurs, "I thought we were here to save one mother. Well, the more the merrier."

Haste guiding their movements, the team scrambles onto the gryphons, in pairs where needed, or not at all in the case of those with their own methods of flight (see: vine vulture.) Once everyone has boarded, the Wildhammer gryphon wing swoops away as one, and many eyes mark their departure. After a brief stop to pick up the team that remained behind, travel resumes, the destination: Highbank.