His blade plunged deep into the snow as the final blow to a final enemy heralded a speech from their Felis guide. He slumped to one knee and held himself up by the hilt of the weapon, eyes out of focus. He could see his hot breath as the wind carried it away, and he felt his lungs waging war with him. Kijin clutched at the snow with his free hand, tossed a handful into his face, and gasped audibly.

"Storm's getting worse," he managed to say. The reality was a storm of a different kind. His mind was a tumult of thoughts, hazy and surreal. The corpses around him, and the other players close by appeared in his peripheral vision, and the Swordsman peered from one to the next to determine their condition.

"Looks like..." his voice wavered as the cold slammed against him. Kijin winced, clambered onto a knee, and finally noticed @Freja Sitka , who had given herself over to anger near the same time he had. He called over in her direction, "you okay?"

Kijin spat a gobbet of blood into the snow as the blizzard seemed to rage in spite of the Hydromancers dying. "Is everyone alright?" he called, not to anyone in particular.

 

An arm looped around her and lifted her up. Silver eyes rolled in her head and her muscles ached from the strain of battle. The scent of blood was pungent in her noise, the joints ached as if she had run a triathlon, but there was an excited buzz inside her skull that anchored here enough to keep her from passing out. The sounds of battle were dim and stumbled alongside @Alkaid Zexis , being basically dragged to safety and outside of the collapse radius of where she was standing.

She’s…not my…girlfriend, Savannah grumbled, her words halting and slow, her mouth dry. It was only moments later that she heard the courtyard erupt into an explosion of cheers and fanfare. Apparently, they had won. The siege was over and the Bandit King had been defeated.

She was placed in one of the unoccupied rooms with a blanket, her back resting against the corner of the room. A fire had been built in the other corner, but otherwise, the room was dark. She thought she heard someone mutter something about coming back and attending to her wounds, but she waved them off. She just needed to rest, and she would be fine.

Thank you though, she called out, her voice hoarse as the door creaked shut and left her in silence. Well, not entirely in silence. She could hear a few clangs of metal against metal, the yelp of someone in pain, someone else sobbing while chatter about loot and armor reached her lastly. She was missing all the spoils of war, but she couldn’t gather enough energy to lift herself to her feet and exit the room.

Fuck. She felt like shit. And she had no clue where Luna was. It was the one thing that kept chasing itself around in her head. She hadn’t seen her after the damned King started in with his fear aura and, even now, she could only hope that she was safe. A frustrated sigh passed her lips before she slammed her hand into the ground. She had to curtail this behavior. She would be no use to anyone, least of all her Ladyship, if she couldn’t protect her partners in battle.

She just didn’t know how to get back to that calm center she once had…
​

@Luna Avalbane

 

As she was led indoors by a member of the Pride, Luna turned tearful eyes to the area that she'd last seen Savannah in. An area that, alongside a large portion of the terrain, was collapsing in terribly. She fought the urge to scream Savannah's name, to run forward and search the collapsed area, knowing that if the woman had been there, she could probably do nothing to help her. How had they gotten so separated during the fight? She hadn't meant to leave Savannah's side at all!

She wandered aimlessly, Natiri following silently at her heels as she looked around for a place to sit and warm up some. She was thankful for whoever had warmed her more during the battle, even if she had never gotten a good look at them, or anybody that had been supporting them. She'd been so stupid to rush off and try to help take down their foes, so idiotic to think that she could keep Savannah safe by defeating anything that could possibly threaten her health or wellbeing. She was so incredibly stupid and that was all anybody could ever say about her.

That was when she spotted a glimpse of blue skin, some armor and a familiar axe laying nearby to the woman that she thought she'd lost. She gasped, tears immediately flooding her vision as she stepped towards the figure. Once. Then twice. And then she was running towards her, before she all but collapsed onto @Savannah Reed and swept her into a tight hug, sniffling to herself.

"I-I thought I'd lost you in that c-c-collapse!" She pressed her lips to the woman's cheek before pulling back, almost as if she'd been zapped suddenly. She hadn't meant to kiss the woman! Had she? She blushed, shifting slightly in place as she hugged her friend and companion. "I'm s-s-so glad you're okay. I was....I-I was so worried." She swallowed, a grin on her face even as tears flowed from behind her flower eye. "Y-you were a-amazing out there..."

 

Her throat felt as though it had within it a boiling acid. That final fireball shot from her jaws had seemingly done a bit of damage to herself. With hands reaching up towards her gullet, she clawed in desperation for freedom from the intolerable sensation. The pain faded away a moment later, not all all a result of her foolish attempt to cleanse herself. Finally, she was left there, void of that discomfort. Her eyes remained pointed towards the charred assassins. She had not been the only one to attack that enemy troop, but it had been her blow that finished them off. They had been the ones that had began the tornado of torment that ended with her death.

"Was it worth it?" She chuckled with uncertainty, reaching up to rub the back of her neck, the battleground in front of her a mess from the previous mayhem. Bringing her arms down in front of herself, she gave a shiver, arms crossed below her chest in order to preserve some warmth.

'You did fine.' Nalla nodded, reassuring herself with thoughts of goodness, pursing the left corner of her lips. She had managed to help a good cause, and protect those in need. That should make any price worthy, right? Even her own life? She remembered the heroes, from the story books she so often delved between the pages of. The ones who were willing to sacrifice anything for their cause, or for the cause of a loved one. Folk who had no regard for their own safety. Those willing to purge any indecency, with wills of steel and flesh of stone. But to as her eyes reared upon those now listless foes, she wondered to herself whether any of that was fair? To kill another was to value one's self as something greater, with a greater purpose. Did that not make her selfish? Did that not make her heroes unjust? She wondered, full of uncertainty...

'You did excellent.' A smirk trickled itself across the right corner of her mouth, as natural as water down a stream. Of course it made her selfish, but what was wrong with that? She had slain her foes! She was a being of power! There was no question about it, she had killed, and had a wonderful time doing it! The smoke still lingering from one of the assassins backs brought a chuckle out of her. "Hell yeah, I did." Her voice was more of a sinister growl than a regular whisper. Approaching the closest charred corpse, one having collapsed onto his front, face down. Nalla placed her foot upon his back.

"I won."

'We won.'

"We won." She corrected herself, foot still upon the dead foe, looking back towards her companions in the slaughter. Through it all, she had found some new faces, and hopefully some future friends. From the one that had saved her, had pulled her from the brink, @Seraphy, to the one she had warmed in her last moments, @Corvella. The one who had aided her with the strange, spirit link, @Alric Stalwart, and she could not leave out her pal @Temperance. Looking back to the body, she smiled, her face a mixture between pleased vengeance, reassurance, and pained worry. "I guess our ends justify our means."

'This time.'

'Always.'

She laughed, arms still crossed to keep out a bit of the cold, before heading back to the group, the smile lingering on her face. She was thankful to have her friends. And she was thankful to have enemies. What a wonderful world.

"Hey, Temper. I'm still kinda hurting here. Wanna help me out?" Oh, right... There was still an arrow in her shoulder.

 

He didn’t care.

As white snow turned scarlet, as bodies piled up in the once beautiful courtyard, as lives were lost and lost and lost until the spirits of the reinforcing bandits were shattered unto oblivion, Cain…didn’t care. So many prisoners. So many wretched souls, seeking safety and prosperity behind the lines of their great King, who had accepted them for who they were and fought alongside them daily. He now laid dead and broken, their futures lying there with him. Imprisonment, heavy labor, executions. No hope left.

Slaughterer of Miracles.

Eater of Dreams.

Hah.

He didn’t care.

Because that’s what it meant to take one side of a conflict. To be one person’s ally, he had to be someone else’s enemy. The price of his inhuman tenacity, after all, was the willingness to stomp on all the nameless flowers in his path, grinding stalks and pulverizing petals.

“And then there's you, too, you don't even consider yourself a Hero, but... you're more like this Coach kind of person in Televisions that the main character has a training montage with! ... An ex-hero?”

He was never a hero. He just enjoyed the visceral violence and the shine of victory. Just wanted to see how far those with brighter eyes and lives could go.

“What's happened to you, Cain? I used to know you as somebody who fought for justice - who fought to make things right.”

He never fought for justice. Not when he could feel pride over slaughtering an entire group of pirates for no reason other than to see his own progress. Not when he always enjoyed breaking people with words alone, stripping bare their insecurities and weaknesses, laughing at what little composure they could gather.

“Even if we have a blast with all this suffering. It really won't ever end will it? So people... stupid people persons will just keep on lying to themselves over and over and..."

…over again. Just seeking the next emotional high, in a world of little consequence, of little reward. The Deva of Frozen Lightning. The Magma Warden. The Forest Troll. The Lunatic Princess. The Flamewreathed Funi. Fletcher and his Menagerie. And now the Northern Bandit King. Always another high. Always another mountain.

“Sorry.”

Clawing up to the nightscape while discarding a hundred other paths. Outpacing the regrets and drowning out the funeral silence with revelry and bloodshed.

In the halls of the slain King, Cain rubbed his neck, feeling the phantasmal noose that settled over, but did not pull. In the halls of the slain King, Cain licked his teeth, tasting the iron price and feeling the sharpness of his teeth. In the halls of the slain King, Cain breathed in deep, feeling once more the strength that had been restored.

That was enough rest. That was enough recovery.

The longer he remained still, the further he would sink.

And who played a game just to remain idle anyways?

With a smile and a stretch of his arms, the midnight haired muse patted the dust and grime off his clothes, scrubbed the flakes of blood off his face, and declared brightly, “Welp, I’m going off to find Zeus now. Should probs see how the old man’s doing, eh? Can’t leave loose ends untied, right?”

Could he do it?

Of course he could.

After all, he was the Flagbearer of Miracles.

 

Haru awakes in a snowstorm to a profound and wonderful warmth and to, by association, what probably had to be the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his entire life. It was such a wonderful wakeup call, in fact, that he had only barely ignored it in favor of trying to figure out exactly how many layers of cold, tossed garbage he felt like right now. First, he needed to take a look at himself.

...Wow, he looked awful. His robe seems to have been shredded up at some point, and a lot of his shirt underneath as well. Those people really liked aiming for the torso, didn't they? He wasn't sure if he were glad or mortified that he could see his torso because of this. Haru didn't have to be a licensed doctor to know that that there shouldn't be that much red on a person, and he was really sure that there shouldn't be that much blue, either. Just as he thought, be was at least half a step from Death's rather tacky door. He could still stand however, which he attributes to the game if nothing else.

Now standing up, he remembers what went wrong. He had simply attempted to do too much in too little time with no strength to spare on it. Of course he would go out cold like that. Haru made a mental note to stop exhausting himself in the middle of his party's important trials.

Smiling wide and genuine, Haru tries to convey as much gratitude as possible to his savior despite how dry his throat is right now. "Thank you, @Velka . I'm in your debt until you decide otherwise. ...Should we be finding shelter?" He may had been ready to study what death feels like now to prepare for later, but that didn't mean that he was willing to dive in himself.

Thankfully, it was around that time where Caccu began directing everyone once more. He takes a moment to look around before he goes to safety, making sure there were anyone else in his position, or perhaps even souls lost upon the land for him to comfort, for there were likely many- was that his soul? Raw shock was plastered on his face.

It looked different than the last time he saw it. Why was it shaped in a spear? That was ridiculous, he couldn't fit that in his body. It would end up sticking out of one of his legs or something. He can't help but try anyway, though. After assuring himself that he was blushing blue from frostbite and not pink from embarrassment, he finds himself suprised to be able to simply put it back in his body, shifting to fit his form like water in a cup. Rather convenient, that. He didn't feel much different when it returned to where it belonged, though. Regardless, Haru looked at the state of his body once more.

He needed to get out of this chill and to a healer with real experience, lest he find himself falling back to the cold grip of snow again. With or without assistance, he shambles along behind Caccu into blessed indoors.

And thank God for that. Haru felt his entire person relax when he got out of the wind. He always was an indoors kind of person, and at times like this, walls around him were the greatest blessing he could think of. Cold, barren, and full of the sound of harsh wind outside... It was just like his house! Well, maybe it was a bit bigger, but it had still been such a long time since he sat down in a place like this, instead of the white walls and smell of medicine he had sat through for the last few years. It was so relaxing, in fact, that he found himself slumping down on a wall almost immediately after he had gotten here, making idle talk despite his condition, "So... does anyone have a drink? I could really use one right now. My throat's become a tundra."

 

Majolica stumbled as she walked. About to fall over, some bipedal frogs looking similar to the hydromancers she had recently fired upon helped to stabilize her gait.

"Hehe, welcome to the crew."

Walking towards the steps leading inside, Majolica eased down into a sit. The frogs took seats around her in a defensive position.

Hehehe, so this is it? The end of the battle.

Majolica eyed the blood in the snow as the blizzard began to come in. She looked long and hard at the craters on the battlefield. Eventually, she would need to be able to do things like that with a single spell. She took a deep breath. The battle had taken much out of her. Twice she had nearly exhausted herself to push the team forward. She needed to become stronger. Much stronger. Strong enough to carry a thousand crowns at once, single-handedly save anyone kidnapped, down enemy commanders in one shot, and most importantly… stop people from jumping through portals right before she ended them.

Majolica thought back on the ice witch and her damned cool looking hat that she hadn't had the chance to snatch. She thought back to the ice barriers and large ice spells the pretender witch had cast with ease. She gritted her teeth.

Hehehe, no more ice either! Hehe, I'll focus on lightning! Hehehe electric attacks and powerful wind spells! Hehehe! I don't want any dummies thinking she's me after all... hehehe!

But there was something about the portal the ice witch ahd used.

Hehe... that fog... could it have been...

As Majolica had not long ago ingested some similar looking fog, and gotten extraordinarily sick from the act, it wasn’t something she would soon forget.

Hehehe, could that have been dissonance? Hehehe, so there's more of them. More witches vying for my position! More witches causing trouble for The Grand Witch’s Kingdom, huh? Hehehe, more witches to harm The Grand Witch's subjects! Hehehe, I can't have that. Hehehe, I won’t allow it! Hehehe… but I don't think I can do it all by myself, yet.

Majolica paused momentarily.

Hehehe, and maybe I don't have to! Hehehehe! I'm the Witch Ops Commander! And a Commander needs a battalion! Hehehe, I guess I've some recruiting to do! I'll gather the strongest adventurers I can! Hehehe, where the Lion's Pride can't go, Witchs Ops will! Hehehe, to protect The Grand Witch's future subjects and country we'll do whatever it takes! We’ll each have a specialty! Hehehe if need be the Witch Ops will destabilize countries, start coups, hehehe, or just obliterate an army! Hehehe! Whatever it takes to protect the people! Hehehe, whatever it takes to take down any enemy! Foreign or domestic! Hehe, we'll be looked on with fear and awe! And when we've gained enough strength, we'll scatter that pretender witch's coven to the wind... hehehe. We'll be the silent protectors Astorea, destroying oncoming armies with our awesome power! Hehehehe, and at the head will be me! Grand Witch Majolica! Commander of the Witch Ops Battalion! Hehehe, I'll take people from everywhere! Hehe, strong and weak! From any guild! As long as they have the desire to protect the realm, and the willingness to sacrifice themselves to take down an enemy! No surrender! Hehe, no retreat! Hehehehe! But we won’t be villains! Hehehe, this world has enough villains. Witch Ops will be dark heroes protecting the people! Hehehe!

Majolica coughed from laughing too hard.

“Hehehe, soon…”

Majolica got up slowly with the help of her new witch frogs. Under her, she thought she felt the rumblings of a battle, but she couldn’t be sure if it was an actual battle or just the aching of the structural damage the stronghold had sustained in the battle. Either way, Zeus was still missing.

Hehehe, he can take care of himself. I don’t have enough energy to help much even if I did go after him… hehe…

The Grand Witch walked towards the edge of the area the ants had burst from.

“Hehehe, fight hard and win old man! Hehehe, You’ve haven’t even seen a sliver of The Grand Witch’s power yet! Hehehe! You can't die until you tell me I'm the strongest! Hehehe!”

Turning her back, she walked towards the stronghold’s entrance. She had work to do. A lot of work, but first a rest.

Entering the building, Majolica watched as the group tended their wounds and caught their breath. It was then she noticed the kitten commander and decided she had a declaration to make.

“Hey (@Zero ) you, hehehe. I’ll acknowledge your frost-fire power for now! Hehehe, but know this! I, hehe, Grand Witch Majolica will soon become so powerful that you’ll be begging for me to take the lead! Hehehehe. And I’ll say maybe, then you’ll beg me to teach you some of my cool magic spells and I’ll say that I’ll think about it! Hehehe! Just you wait! Grand Witch Majolica is going to be the most powerful magic user the world has ever seen! Hehehe!"

And with that, Majolica went to go take a seat somewhere and focus on regenerating some energy.

 

The fight had ended, and it had ended in a rather interesting fashion as it looked like the Bandit King and his allies had managed to wreak enough havoc that even after Erasmus had already been neutralized the Lions were still in a panic trying to get everyone out of the area which had looked like it was about to collapse at any moment. Vina herself had been in the clear, and after pouring so much energy into Ilya to heal her and counteract the freezing she hadn't had the time or the opportunity to save those who had already exhausted themselves fighting the king. Fortunately her help also hadn't been needed, as everyone who was still in danger was swiftly rescued. It was also good to see that Ilya recovered quickly enough to help take down the bandit who had tried to kidnap Caccu: the golden-haired lioness really was a tough one.

For Vina the fight ending was a relief, as it meant an end to the bloodshed. The only thing that bothered her was that, once more, their opponent had been struck down mercilessly, and with the courtyard as unstable as it was she didn't think she'd be able to retrieve the body and revive him... At least not without risking falling down into the tunnels below the courtyard or getting caught by the blizzard. Looking at what remained of the Bandit King and those who had faithfully stood by his side until the bitter end the druidess shook her head and went with the living, away from the open air where a storm was threatening to swallow up everything. She'd mourn those who died once those who were still alive were no longer in danger.

Seeing how every bandit they encountered reacted to the news of Erasmus's demise Vina frowned, doing her best to tend to all of the wounded as she made her way through the group, singing soft and gentle songs as she closed wounds and cured hypothermia. Someone who took the name of Bandit King couldn't complain when a group of adventurers kicked down his door to teach him a lesson, since bandits were people who exploited others for personal benefit. But she still didn't like seeing all his followers so downcast, not because it was an unpleasant sight but because it helped show that even if for them it had been an adventure for all these people they had just lost someone very important to them. Good or evil didn't matter: their sorrow was as real whether they were saints or sinners, and their tears wouldn't undo any of the evils of the past. They grieved.

The bandits who had been forced to stand back up despite their bodies being broken. The ape monster which had struggled against its wounds. The adventurers who had been grabbed by some horror in the deep. The Bandit King's loyal followers. Vina thought about them even as she smiled warmly and comforted those who needed it, trying to give the bandits who had surrendered something other than a feeling of being lost. She didn't know what would happen to the survivors, but she hoped that they would be given a chance to reform. Given how they had cared for their leader and how they all willingly surrendered and came along it was clear that most of them weren't heartless killers, and if they had been pushed onto the path of villainy through desperation or circumstances Vina wanted to see them get the opportunity to do better in the future.

As for herself, she was happy that so many people were still alive, and that by retaking this fortress Astorea would be able to better protect its citizens. This quest wasn't without its goals and benefits, and while she wouldn't forget the past or those who died she wasn't going to just wallow in misery or regret either. It was better to move forward, the Felis wearing her optimism like a warm cloak, explaining to one of the captured bandits that his saviour had fought like a true hero and that he never gave in. It was unfortunate that the circumstances had resulted in his demise, but those who had followed Erasmus could be proud of him and honour his memory by living their lives the best they could. It was difficult to get the bandits to not lash out since the only reason their leader died was because the adventurer party invaded the fortress, but Vina had the advantage that since she had only taken a supportive role to try and keep her friends safe combined with her soft nature it was difficult for anyone to treat her as one of the killers.

 

All around, the group of adventurers slowly found their feet. They rose, victorious, and the dead were left to lie. In the name of Astorea, no-Justice it had named itself- they laid waste to an entire civilization. They burned to ash everything that mattered to an entire people, deposed their King, spat on their traditions, sundered their bones and scattered ashes to the wind. If the Bandits did survive, as he peeled the bloodied raiment from his freezing, scarred torso, Kijin silently hoped they would have their vengeance.

To hell with Justice, and all people who give credence to it.

Justice was blind, but more, it was uncaring. There was no propriety in their method. There was no hint of mercy, no sign of benign motive. At the behest of a man driven by his own sense of righteousness, they now had bloodier hands than all the peoples in Terrasphere combined.

If Zeus were not already dead, the Swordsman sorely desired to press the knife the rest of the way himself.

His last question answered itself. Of course they were fine. Everyone rose in a clamor, all disoriented by their condition and the cold. His body was exposed now, garb dragging behind him along the dirty ground. Sweat and frost built on his muscles as he trudged toward the exit, his eyes devoid of even anger.

Humanity is disgusting.

His eyes swept over those who rejoiced and those lost in lament alike. The memories unlocked when he watched their ally get swallowed by darkness remained heavy on his mantle. Thom watched his father dying in front of him, bleed out in the streets of Brooklyn on the wrong end of a gang dispute.

He watched EMS struggle in vain to stabilize the man who raised him. He watched the life fade from his body. As they called the time of death, instead of crying, he stood empty.

Now, he remembered that emptiness. It was the cruelty, the uncaring, the sheer antipathy of humanity.

At first, it was about money. He tried to justify the actions in that way, but Zeus had robbed him of that. When there was nothing but "righteousness" left, he stood at odds with himself. What was his reason for pressing on? Why had he submerged himself in the sea of violence, and why had he allowed himself to be overcome by it all?

Enough.

"I said once that I was done with Astorea," he growled as he wobbled past Caccu, (@Zero ) "and now, I am certain of my decision. The politics of the civilized are of no interest to me."

He stopped, glanced down to the Felis, and clutched the strange medallion he had found in his scouring of the underground. He held it up for her to see, then pocketed it. "What you called justice is a sour wine. It has stained my tongue with a terrible taste, one that may never wash out."

His bloody gaze stared through the Felis, a hardened expression masking anything but the contempt in his words.

"Your Pride has no friend in me."

 

Eryl lay there for several moments, recovering from the exertion. Despite the cold, there was a layer of sweat on her form, and her armor was heaving with her pants for breath. Aalin hadn’t been playing this game very long when she tossed her lot in with this quest. She had pushed herself farther than she expected this game could take her. It was rewarding, but at a cost. She wondered if her body would be sore as well once she logged off and returned to the real world.


Eryl suddenly realized the position she was in. She sprang off of the stranger she had helped save hurridly, her usually intense, determined eyes showed mild surprise and embarrassment for lingering on her compatriot’s body.


“Sorry,” Eryl muttered ashamed. The redhead didn't dare look at the other woman she had just landed on for the moment and knew from direct contact was a bit on the plush side under her..uh..breastplate.... Eryl's cheeks threatened to match her hair color at the thought that had entered her mind. She busied herself dusting the snow off herself and pulling her red strands under some sembiance of control. The havoc the wind and her own sweat had wrecked on her hair was too lasting for Eryl to make much of a difference. When she was a slight bit more composed, she extended her leather-glove covered hand, offering to help the stranger up,“You looked like you could use some help there.”


When the stranger was up, either by Eryl’s assistance or by her own effort, the redhead offered her name, “Eryl. You look pretty banged up, I can give you some healing if you feel you need it.”


Of course, she was more than willing to accept that she had just slammed into and tackled the blue-haired woman before her—as well as lay on her strangely for a moment, and the fact that she could say no entirely. It wasn’t the best way to meet a stranger. But Eryl wanted to at least try to smooth things over. She nodded towards one of the gaping chasms that had once been a door. She didn’t know where it lead, but there was as stream of other wounded players on their way there, it stood to reason it was probably safer in there than out here. And warmer too.


“I’ll take care of you in there if you’d like,” the woman said penitently nodding back to the large gap, “It’s the least I can do. We’d better get inside soon, one way or the other.”

@Magdalyn​

 

Stunned, Magdalyn lay sprawled on the ground. Her body felt unusually warm against the icy sting of cold snow, and she could easily visualize steam rising from where hot flesh was exposed. Her golden eyes remained closed as she focused on her breathing. There was a weight above her, atop her, but it did not register as any sort of threat. Instead, Mags simply felt an overwhelming need to shove through this barrier. Shove through it, and keep fighting. Plunge the barbed end of her harpoon deep into another enemy. Relish in the way the weapon pulsed red, like the blood staining her hands.

Her weapon. Slowly, the realization dawned that the weapon was no longer in her grasp. And just as quickly as the initial panic came, so did the anger leave her. It drained from her like a cork snatched from its hole in the side of a barrel. And as the negativity sloshed out, it was replaced by confusion. She did not have her weapon. She was on the ground. Someone was on top of her.

"Huh?" Mags managed, the sound as much an expulsion of air as it was a question. Someone said something, (an apology?) and the weight was gone. Her eyes opened now, and as the blurry figure came into focus, Magdalyn propped herself up on her elbows. "Oh." Everything came back to her now, and though each memory was still obscured by a sort of haze, she recalled being tackled. That, the spearswoman supposed, explained why she was laid-out flat on her back.

"No, no, you're good." She gave a small wave of her hand, but smiled, to demonstrate her appreciation at the gesture. The least she could do was stand on her own, after being rescued the way she had. "Thank you for the help, seriously. I was-" Her voice trailed, and a hand moved automatically to rub at the back of her neck. Consumed by rage? Controlled by emotion? Lost in anger, and oblivious to everything except death? "Tired."

At Eryl's comment, Mags glanced down at herself; her gear was dented, torn, and bloodied. Though her wounds were hidden, the crimson seeping through meant they were more serious than she would have thought. And I hadn't even felt them?

Well, she was feeling them now. It was as if noticing the wounds had opened the flood gates, and pain pulsed through her as if the skin was being torn a second time. "Yeah," the woman conceded, "I could use the healing. Thank you for that, too."

With the redhead by her side, Magdalyn began the slow journey toward the exit. Her gait was uneven, and her legs trembled a bit, but she had made it out alive. There was something to be said for that simple fact alone. "I'm Magdalyn, by the way. Most people call me Mags, though."

@Eryl Justice

 

So... it was over.

There were bandits surrendering left and right, letting their weapons fall to the ground and standing there with their hands held up. Heeding Caccu's words, she started going over with some of the other members of the pride to tie the bandits' hands behind their backs, making sure that they wouldn't try to launch an attack on the battered players.

She fumbled her way through a few knots before she realized that her stiff, cold fingers weren't going to be of much help here. So, she should probably find something else to do.

Looking over the courtyard, she spotted a few healers going around and helping some of the more injured people. She... couldn't do that, though. All she could do was drag people around and smack people upside the head and just be a nuisance to people who actually had important things to do, like tying up all the bandits.

...

Well! She'd- she'd find something. Right? Like, um, going to wake up all the bandits that had been there earlier when they first teleported in. Some of them were definitely dead. But, there were some that she just knocked out when she slammed into them with her shield. Maybe, she'd bring them over to the people who were tying up the bandits, and then look around for a healer who would be willing to help teach her some medicine skills? Yeah! That sounded like a plan.

That area was still rather unsteady, it appeared, so she was very careful as she walked over to where the bandits had been. There was a lot of blood. A lot. But, not all of them were sliced up or punctured through. Just like in the movies, she'd just knocked some of them out by hitting them with her shield, and-

-oh.

Medical lesson 1: If you hit a lot of people on the head very, very hard, no matter what it was you used to hit them with... a lot of them weren't going to get up again.

 

Blood pumped as loud as drumbeats in her ears as the circulation slowly returned to her lips, her fingertips, the fragile tips of her pointed ears. The lady knight had appeared out of the storm like some kind of angel to lead Emeranth and her out of danger, hurling them bodily when the cold and exhaustion caught up with her as well. To be frank… Des didn’t know how to thank her. Hell, she didn’t even know where to start with gratitude, since the stranger had not only saved Destiny, but finished what she’d started with Emerath as well. Feel like I owe a lot of apologies. Gotta start keeping a list.

Inside the fortress, Destiny staggered to a bench in the main hall to wait her turn for a healer. Or hell, maybe just to thaw on her own a little. Her skin was rough and scratched from where ice crystals had scraped cruelly against it, her body peppered with bruises from collapsing rubble. So many had taken worse, but for the moment, Des felt like she’d done her part and seen this fool mission through to the end. Pulling up her palm menu, she hesitated over the logout button again. Just a little longer. She needed time to type out a message, anyway.

Mail

Crane,

Hell, we did it. No thanks to you. Your home team chased out the Black Wolves (the bandits, which I KNOW you didn’t know beforehand) and their King is dead. Old man Zeus is still MIA. You’re the worst. You owe me big time for standing me up and getting me stuck in a horror survival game all weekend. Go to hell. Also, PM me when you’re coming home next so I can get groceries.

Des

Sending the message, Destiny crossed her legs and stretched, sighing. Wonder how Astorea’s gonna change now that these guys are out of the way. Now that they'd gone and surrendered, another faction would probably rise to fill the gap in power. But as long as it was somethin’ that didn’t interfere with all the rebuilding going on in the region, the Lions probably wouldn’t get called again to deal with it. Not that it matters, since I’m not one of ‘em. For a wild moment she wondered what it would be like—what would happen if she signed up, if she’d get to know all these faces and people whose paths she’d crossed.

It was a lousy idea, though, and she dropped it real quick. Nope—the Lions were Crane’s thing, not hers. Hell, maybe someday she’d tag along again once she’d actually gotten herself a weapon, but she was already lookin’ forward to getting back to what she liked—exploring the Terrasphere.

Before that, she still owed someone an apology. Or a thank-you. Seeking out @Corvella, Destiny raised a hand in greeting and jogged stiffly up to the woman, clearing her throat. “Mm—hey. Destiny,” she introduced herself, rubbing the back of her neck. “Just wanted to say sorry for saving my dumb ass out there. I mean, thanks. Hell, somewhere in-between, I think.” She squinted uncomfortably, shifting in place. She wasn’t used to being in someone’s debt. What if the woman had gotten killed because of her? “You’re a good team player. I admire that, I reckon. Mm… that’s all. Catch you around, maybe.”

 

At @Haru's call, she just offered a shrug. She never payed much attention to such things. She likely wouldn't even remember his offer of a debt by the next day, not that it mattered to her. With most people choosing to take a breather and get away from the cold, there was still one task to do. Walking over the the fallen Bandit King's body she gave it an appraising look. An assassination mission was useless without proof. And it didn't seem like anybody else was clamoring to haul the body so the task was left to her. Reaffirming her grip on one of her lances, she gave a deep stab through the fallen leader's stomach and lifted it over her shoulder. With the other lance, she mounted his head on the tip. The load may have been heavy, but it wasn't overwhelmingly so. Besides, she was one of the luckier ones, many were in worse condition than her. What was a little heavy lifting?