Manya listening to the haggling and negotiation. Thank goodness Ivan was smooth enough to get his point across, but this was just turning out to be... ...well, the most appropriate word would be 'clusterfuck', but then he'd need to put money in the Swear Jar! It was right then that the first hints of thought formed in his head, that Luis might not be as infallible and wise as he thought he was. Anyways, that was a headache for another time. "Well, of course, we haven't exercised demons, it's not exactly...uh, reputable and rewarding work." He looked at the assembly of sad creatures and gagged a bit. Manya did wonder about whether he could explode the manor. Madison did teach him to rot and corrode things - probably chip away at the supports and the whole thing should collapse like a pile of poorly made Jenga. "Okay so let me get this straight. They," He pointed a thumb at the demon horde that was perhaps barely stopped from jumping the dashing duo by some inexplicable understanding between Thalia and said horde. "...are going to work on their instincts and then try to possess, kill, and eat us, and in that order if we're lucky. Meanwhile, we need to fight them but not kill them because...because of reasons." By [Insert Icon Of Faith Here], this was going downhill faster than a rolling Faerin. He rubbed the bridge of his nose as he contemplated his options. He could really use some gold, though... Darn it, why was it so hard to be a good and all-loving hero and lover of peace nowadays? It was like the world had something against people who tried to foster kindness, gentleness and the Light's blessing upon all ye wayward lambs. "Okay, fine. I think I can work with this. Maybe." All he needed to do was just blast 'em a bit with Black Magic, right? They're resistant to it, but it should make them jump through a few hoops. Easy peasy lemony squeezy! He looked at Thalia once again, quite assured that she can keep a hold of them. Besides, how dangerous could a bunch of poorly-sustained demons really be? "Just make sure you've got a tight leash on them. And keep that basement door open in case we need to bail. And don't let them run out. And some other things that you, in good faith as an employer, must be doing which are too extensive to list but we'll call you out on it anyways." At least he had Ivan's vote of confidence, though! Or so it sounded. He, or he in the necrowalker, strode out a bit as he opened his grimoire, having it float at his side. He raised a hand towards the demons, and his arm seemed to seep ash and smoke, venting dark magic out of himself. All in all, your run-of-the-mill Black Magic gist. Ah, yes, he didn't really mention that to many people, did he? He was always introducing himself as White Magician people seemed to have this presumption that he'd not know a thing about its diametric opposite. He, however, was blissfully unaware of that as he stepped forward and flared his palm out. Time to draw aggro! Dark Tidings The blast of energy would wash over the demon horde, a kind of poke-the-sleeping-demons kind of thing. Mildly damaging, mildly disruptive, and unsettling all over. It took someone with the right amount of courage, bravery, and top-grade naivete like Manya to do dumb stuff like drawing aggression without having someone back him up. He'd come to that realization a few seconds after the demons start acting up, though. But surely @Iván Carl got his back, right? Right?!
Iván was right. @Manya Boole did have some sort of white magic explosion spell of sorts, though he wasn't sure if it was actually white magic and technically it was more of a wide area of effect spell than an actual boom boom explosion spell, but it was close enough. Wasn't it? It didn't really matter. What mattered was that Manya's spell pretty much affected every demon out there, which seemed to only serve to make them all angry. Iván narrowed his eyes at Manya, "What did you do?" At the back of his mind, Iván had an inkling of what Manya did. Judging by the way the demons reacted to him, and only him, it quickly dawned on Iván that he had used some sort of aggro, drawing all their anger and hatred towards him. He had seen this kind of effect before, what with his many dealings with the Witch Ops and the Aristocracy. It was quite useful, efficient, albeit when you had a tank with you, someone who could endure a lot of damage and still put out a bit of a fight alongside your efforts. They did not have a tank with them. They had three magic-users. Iván was mostly support and Black Thalia, well, she didn't really look like she could endure anything physical with what she was wearing. She really needs to stop moving when she doesn't need to. All that jiggling is annoying. One of the demons, the one closest to Manya, let out a blood-curdling roar that made Iván's eyes grow wide, making him take a step back on pure instinct alone. Technically, he was behind Manya, a bit behind Black Thalia, which meant that he could actually use his Aeromancy to get out of there before the demons noticed him. Manya had the attention of each and every one of them, anyway, and Black Thalia would probably rein them in should they put Manya close to the brink of death, right? Yeah, no, she probably doesn't even know how to control these things, judging from the way they look. The demons were malnourished, others overnourished, which led credence to Iván's theory. But then again, he was the one who initially accepted the necromancer's pleas for help. He was the one who goaded Manya into going into the mansion first, attacking the demons first. Technically, this was more or less Iván's fault. Gritting his teeth, he steeled himself with that realization. He was never going to abandon Manya in the first place anyway. Probably. Technically, he just met the Faerin, so he could pretty much just leave him there. Then again, all those reasons of him doing otherwise really got to him. Besides, no one in their right mind would leave a tiny cutie patootie Faerin to their doom, right? Should've just rolled him down here. Iván heaved a sigh to compose himself. Channeling his magic, he began expending copious amounts of energy to create an illusionary field that could, in theory, deceive and distract each and every demon in this closed, barely lit space, temporarily altering their perception to make them see more than one Manya before them. That should help, right? They can't kill him if they don't know which one's the real Manya, the only Manya they could kill. But the emphasis on his attempt was on temporarily. Aside from that, he had only tried this out once or twice, a really long time ago. Back then, he passed out. Hopefully, this time, he wouldn't. "If you've got an offensive blast or something up your sleeves, Manya, now might be the time to use it," Iván winced, eyes closed, focusing on his illusionary field to keep the Faerin alive. Hopefully. "They're seeing more of you than they can kill but I can't keep the illusion forever." Forever was probably an exaggeration. Iván didn't really have that much energy to keep the illusionary field up for an hour. Maybe 30 minutes tops. Either Manya can take out some of them, at least enough to make them take it down a notch, or Iván can come in with his hammer and some lightning spells to help. That is, if Iván wouldn't pass out.
Manya faced the demons down, seemingly quite brave. It was a trademark nature for White Magicians to be afraid of everything and their mother, but when it comes to the dark, the demons and the eldritch things under your bed, they suddenly have more backbone than...something that has a lot of backbone. Similies cannot grasp the amount of backbone and guts needed for this thing. Of course, the mental reinforcement was welcome, but without the goods to back it up, he was wont to find said backbone and guts scattered on the floor. "I'm keeping their attention on me...it's like a rodeo! The clown needs to keep the bulls running around a bit, right? And you can step in and blast 'em!" He aimed his fingers and made pew-pew noises. That is until one of the more dangerous-looking demons howled at them. Manya flinched, but he wasn't discouraged, not yet! However, he had his nercowalker wisely scamper away from the demon. Good thing he didn't have to run by himself - he'd have been caught in an instant was that the case. And standing still, he could blast the demons with magical spells without penalty! But then the demons started acting strangely. Whereas they were all running at Manya after his flashy aggression spell, now they were running around, chasing...well, something invisible to the Faerin, at least. He glanced at @Iván Carl and smirked. Of course, it was his doing - what a solid guy! Manya gave a thumbs up, before running, his spidery necrowalker skittering about with the clacking on bones and metal on stone. "I'm on it!", he said, before pointing to the ground. He muttered a string of Black Magic spells, chaining together a basic Disruption-Type spell on the fly. Black Hole This wasn't an actual offensive spell, nor had he hadn't written it into his grimoire yet, being more of a free-form ability, but a pool of darkness appeared on the ground. As the demons would run past it, though, they'd feel their feet slipping and being dragged into the center. It wasn't truly dangerous, but the darkness would pull and draw things in, slowing down the rushing demons, as well as making it very difficult for them to keep chasing. Besides, his only effective offensive magic for demons was White Magic, and Thalia apparently would throw a fit if he ended up purifying her deliciously evil minions. "This is called 'resistance training', lads!", he said with a grin. While this was a massive shift from the meek and mousy Manya, it was also an unsettlingly expected shift...his curiosity with the darker aspects of magic knew no bounds, after all. But more plainly, he was being so bold as he relied on the safety net that was Thalia. ...or so he hoped. "Yes, I shall name this one 'Black Hole'!", he exclaimed, before raising his left hand again. Now for an actual offensive spell! Diffusion Blast The magic shot outwards like a sparkling arc of electricity, except it was Black Magic, necrotic energy fired out to harm the vital energy of its targets, which in this case were the three demons that had by either chance or intellect chosen to chase him, the real Manya. "Shshshsh...this is fun!" If it wasn't immediately obvious that the innocent Faerin was being slowly affected by the allure of Black Magic, then the gusto with which he slung out spell after spell might clue one in about it...
Did he just call himself a clown? @Manya Boole 's explanation of what he had done was both appropriate and disconcerting in that while the referential imagery alluded to his chosen action quite clearly, that whole clown thing gave Iván little to no confidence in the Faerin's own confidence of his own abilities. Maybe he was just kidding, trying to lighten the mood in the barely lit basement that desperately needed some lighting up, both figuratively and literally. Or maybe the Faerin was just one of those self-deprecating humorists whose defense mechanism required him to turn everything about themselves into a joke, pride barely existing. Whatever it was, Iván could not let himself be distracted by the imagery the Faerin had presented to him, instead focusing all of his will and attention on his magic, on his illusionary field, in order to keep not just himself but mostly also Manya alive. His efforts were greatly appreciated, as evident by the thumbs-up Manya threw his way. Despite his fears, Iván did not end up passing out nor did he need to, as the Faerin was quick to double-up on his efforts with some sort of trapping spell Manya called Black Hole. It was followed shortly by some sort of lightning spell, no, that wasn't aeromancy but something else. Black Magic? Iván appreciated the way Manya adapted quickly, taking the burden of expending copious amounts of energy on the illusionary field from him, but Iván was also wary of the way the Faerin seemed to enjoy that secondary magic of his. Iván turned to Black Thalia and found her sporting a curious look as well. If Manya did indeed have Black Magic along with White Magic, then it was a curious choice, one that would incite concern from both black mages and white mages. Or not. Iván wasn't really that well-versed in either kind of magic. He had taken up Illusion Magic and Aeromancy, after all, outside of the ying and yang rivals of sorcery, not wanting to choose between sides. Stereotypically, white mages and black mages had some sort of rivalry between them. At least that was what Iván knew. Considering he did not know a lot of white mages and black mages, aside from Bradwynne who was a white mage, probably, and Lucia Mierz and Madison Freebird, who were both black mages, probably, Iván's information might be more of a Luis-whispered wikiality than actual truth. Luis... When I get my hands on that stupid ant-taming fool, I'm going to force him to clean his ears! FORCE HIM HARD! Freed of the need to continue the illusionary field, thanks to Manya's trapping spell, Iván proceeded to switch to unsheathing his hammer, quickly imbuing it with a lightning spell, and whacking the rotund demon that tried to attack him. It took him three swings but he managed to stave it off, sending it scurrying away, more like rolling away. Fat demons were apparently less willing to fight to get some food in them. Probably because they were already fat. With electricity crackling around his hammer, Iván pointed the weapon towards the name closest to him, a confident grin on his face, "All right, boys! Who's next? Who wants to get a taste of my hammer's lightning?! COME ON UP!" Manya's showing of how competent he was in the thick of battle, if the whole thing was to be considered the thick of battle, impressed Iván so much that he realized he did not need to keep his eyes on the Faerin, to babysit Manya. He was free to start bashing demons in the head now, and he looked forward to it. "AAAAAAH!!!" From behind him, Black Thalia screamed. Iván narrowed his eyes, sighing. She was the demons' mistress, so why was she yelling. "Relax your jiggly puffs," Iván scoffed as he turned around to face her. "Your demons are fine. Manya and I are just teaching them...a lesson..." He cut himself off, his voice cracking, losing their power and confidence, when he finally realized what had happened to Black Thalia. Standing over her unconscious body was a giant demon. Slowly, carefully, it turned to where Iván was standing, making the chronomancer fear for his life. He has died before, sure, but it never did get any better. Besides, Iedi had given him some sort of warning the last time he died. He can only imagine what would happen if he ended up dying this time. "Uhh... Manya? I think we have a problem." They had a giant problem, a lot of problems, a horde of demonic problems. Stupid Luis.
It was all going so well... Between the two of them, they were keeping the demons at bay. They all seemed both reluctant and eager to try and eviscerate, possess, eat, and/or approach them, something that Manya found very odd. His energy had dropped a tiny bit, though, and now he found himself in the right spot to call a break, perhaps after some more 'exercising', so he could catch his breath. And then the scream. A really girly scream, mind you. The kind that you might stereotypically hear when some woman sees a mouse or something. Manya whipped his head around to see what had caused that, not because he couldn't guess but because he didn't want to guess, in the fear that he'd be right... He guessed anyways, and he was right too, as he saw Black Thalia be conked out by a particularly nasty looking demon fellow. So that was their safety net being cut, it seems. A problem, he says. "No kidding?!", Manya asked exasperatedly, but then he noticed it. Another wave of emotions passing through the demons, as if they were all sleeping and just now they got an extra Black shot of espresso into their systems. They collectively shook off that sluggishness, and began hooting, howling and roaring in unison. They still looked and appeared quite weakened and weird...but there was murder in their eyes and a kind of resolute determination on their faces/masks/what-have-you, as they all lumbered forward in unison towards Manya. Well damn, this was not looking good. But they had to act fast! Demonology, what did he know of demonology... The summoner always retains the control of their summoned beings and can expend conscious effort to keep them in check. So that means Thalia was the only person here who could put a lid on these demons! But right now, that hulking fellow seems very eager to get a taste of her... He turned around to look at Ivan and a very stupid idea formed in his head. He gave a cursory glance towards the door, just in case bailing from this whole thing was a viable option... No such luck. Apparently, the demons had wised up and taken the initiative, as two of the more physically able bastards were waiting by the basement door, claws glinting from the light from the hallways and malicious expressions etched on their grotesque features. Which means they had to run and hide deeper inside the basement, which was about as smart an idea as avoiding being eaten by a lion by jumping into its mouth head first. But that one demon, he was still looming over Black Thalia, who was critical to their survival. Also, there was that minor bit about damsels in distress... "Ivan, chuck me at that sonofagun!" Yeah, he should definitely not be in charge of making plans. But his idea was simple - if he could get into contact range on that gigantic fellow, he might be able to blast out a good bit of energy, keep him occupied while Ivan grabs Thalia. Then, they could bail around the demons and slap Thalia until she woke up or something. She seemed like the kind of person that'd enjoy that, right? He just hoped that Ivan, being a noble and bold adventurer, would not hesitate at the plan, or make up some other plan involving him gloriously sacrificing himself to save the Faerin and the necromancer. That seemed like something he'd do, after all, being such a famed hero... Sometimes, he overestimated the nobility of @Iván Carl a bit, but maybe not his throwing arm. Manya weighed a bit more than a wet blanket, but the thing about tossing him was that you also had to bear the weight of the guilt of hurling a cute little Faerin at a demon.
"Purple god damn it, Luis!" It was the only thing Iván felt appropriate to yell out when the demons started hyping themselves up for, well, snacks. By snacks, that meant Iván and @Manya Boole. And maybe an unconscious Black Thalia as a side dish. Do side dishes exist with snacks? Whatever. The point was, one knocked out necromancer equals an uncontrollable demon horde, which meant Iván and Manya were going to find themselves subtracted from being alive. Iván tried his best to think a solution for their problem, their giant problem, their horde of problems, but the urgency of the situation and the added stress of not wanting to get eaten alive, piece by piece, by smelly demons did not help his brain function properly. Should he whip up another illusionary field to distract the demons? From the looks of how hyped they were now, it would probably just lead to him passing out and getting eaten while he was knocked out. Maybe he could use his time magic to stop... Nope, he can't affect that many demons. What if he just used aeromancy to get out of there, run as fast as he could up and through the basement door? For a few seconds, that sounded like an ideal solution. Then Iván realized that with Black Thalia out-cold, Manya in some sort of tinkered necromancy baby walker, a horde of demons surrounding them, and a giant one ready to plop its unconscious master in its mouth, he probably wouldn't be fast enough to 100% save everyone. Someone would probably lose a leg, and neither the Faerin nor his patron would be happy about that. Thankfully, the Faerin had a better plan. Iván took a second to curb his laughter from getting out of his mouth. Chucking Manya at the giant demon would be hilarious. Chucking a Faerin at anything would be hilarious. But now was not the time to laugh--- Oh, shit. Maybe the Curry House should sponsor a Faerin-chucking tournament back in Stokbon. Maybe. But first, he needed to get out of there. Preferable alive and in one piece. He turned to Manya and found great resolve in the Faerin's face. Then he saw he was still in that baby walker made of bones and a chuckle escaped his lips. Turning away, mostly to regain his composure, Iván caught sight of Black Thalia's soon-to-be corpse. That couldn't happen. She was their only ticket out of there, so despite his annoyance at the jiggly woman who couldn't afford better clothes, Iván realized that saving her was their top priority. He turned to Manya again and forced himself to keep it together. He managed to do so, but only barely. Oh, my purple god, I'm going to chuck a Faerin. Why doesn't this game have an instant replay button? He nodded at the brave, tiny, hilarious Faerin and brandished his hammer. "Hold on to your disgusting baby walker thing, Manya. This is going to be a home run." In one fluid motion, Iván swung his hammer, aiming for the bulk of the baby walker thing to propel Manya forward and onward, toward the giant demon that was salivating for some Black Thalia cheesesteak. And that's exactly what happened. Oh, and the baby walker thing more or less got destroyed because of Iván's powerful swing. At least Manya was sent flying towards the giant demon's face. That was the plan, right?
Manya was expecting to be chucked. Being knocked out of the figurative frying pan and into the fire wasn't exactly an improvement, but hey, if it works, it works! The necrowalker pretty much shattered from the blow, and Manya was sent flying as @Iván Carl teed off a perfect shot! Seriously, he should be considering some golf on the side with that swing. "AAAAAAH!" And a very small, very fast and possibly Geneva-Convention-outlawed Manya flew at the demon, demonstrating considerable grace and dumb luck by latching onto the neck of the demon as he flew past and ended up hanging from the demon's neck on his back, like a very ill-fitting cape. He didn't waste too much time with panicking, though, as he reached up and clasped his hands around the demon's eyes. Now, it might have felt a bit odd, and if someone thought Manya's next words would be a sultry 'Guess who~?', they'd be wrong but understandably so. But instead of cutesy stuff like that, both his palms exploded out with holy light; the perks of having your employer be asleep, you can get away with doing things like this if it meant saving her life! The demon, quite effectively distracted by the impromptu flash-banging of its eyes, roared in rage, swinging around this way and that in the hopes of shaking Manya off of him. Manya would, in the future (should he survive) remember this day fondly as when Ivan took him to the demon rodeo. But right now he was screaming his head off in fear. "GRAB THALIA, AND RUN!", he said, and his grimoire floated up, hovering in the air before glowing faintly if only to catch Ivan's attention. Once they were on the run, they'd have to kill the lights so as to not project a 'Hey, we're using White Magic here! Come kill us!' vibe out to the horde of monsters. It was hovering, slowly floating towards a path that leads deeper into the basement which, surprise surprise, was more of a catacomb than the kind of basement where you keep the washing machine and wine racks. The plan was more of a stopgap measure, but they could probably snap Thalia awake and then everything would be alright again! Wrong. But he was yet to know about that, so he kept distracting the giant demon long enough for Ivan to start bolting, and then he'd probably follow as well.
Even before @Manya Boole could scream about Iván grabbing Black Thalia, the illusionomancer was already on his way towards their unconscious necromancer patron. It was always the plan. First, at Manya's own insistence, the Faerin White Mage was going to distract the giant demon that was drooling all over its knocked-out, fashion-challenged master's jiggly flesh, along with most of the horde, too. Being well-versed in white magic, Manya, between him and Iván, the one most likely to survive the demons. Sure, he'd have to, like, kill a lot of them, to put it mildly, but that what happens when you, as a necromancer, fail to stay awake during your demon horde's exercise routine. Black Thalia was going to understand. It was the only thing she'd be able to do when she'd wake up to most of her disgusting creatures purified. But now, they were in the end game, the second part of the plan, in which Iván would use his aeromancy to grab Black Thalia and get her out of there. Aside from the fact that they could not, in good conscience, leave someone "innocent" to their ironic death, she was also their ticket to a lot of gold. Granted that she'd probably get pissed if Manya had to blast each and every one of her creatures to ash, they could still just blame her for falling unconscious on the job and endangering their lives. This was her own fault, to be fair. If only she had taken more care of her creatures, and maybe like bought herself actual clothes, then none of this would've needed to happen. Or maybe this was just destiny. Necromancers are terrible people, after all. "Oy, Manya! Don't take too long playing with these ugly buttfaces! We need to get out of here fast!" Iván's aeromancy allowed him to get from where he was to where Black Thalia's unconscious body was in a matter of seconds. Intentionally foregoing being gentle with her soon-to-be corpse, Iván used some air spells, too, to help him get her over his shoulder. Before the giant demon could notice him, he made a dash towards the exit, the basement door from which they had come in from. Manya'll be fine. He's a white mage. White mages were born for this exact moment. "See you outside, little dude!" There were more demons than he had liked on their way to the basement door. Thankfully, Iván was also able to use his time magic to rewind himself and Black Thalia mere seconds before they'd collide with those gross creatures. It was mostly his aeromancy that propelled him forward, gave him a boost to his speed, but his chronomancy aided him greatly in developing some sort of "agility" to avoid unnecessary contact, collision, with obstacles before them. Well, most obstacles before. "Uhh, what the hell are you?" Standing right in front of the basement door was a demon, just one, but it was so disgusting and terrifying, Iván was 99.9% certain trying to go through it was not a good idea. It would be a bad idea, what with its teeth all over the place, what with its extremely sharp claws, what with what seemed to be some sort of gross liquid, acid perhaps, in its mouth. Maybe it could breathe fire, too, with that disgusting saliva. "Oy, Manya! If you can hear me, exit's blocked! We need to find another exit or like freaking hide!" If only Black Thalia wasn't unconscious on his shoulder, maybe Iván could've just fought off the scary-looking demon. If only his Awakened Mastery wasn't mostly support, maybe he would've just yelled "EXPLOSION!" and destroyed Black Thalia's stupid manor along with her stupid demons. If only Luis wasn't such a stupid stupid-face, maybe Iván wouldn't have been caught in this mess in the first place. Their main exit was out, so they either had to find someplace else to hide for the meantime. They could just buy themselves sometime before waking up Black Thalia. This was her house. Surely, she'd know another way out? He wasn't 100% sure she could take control of her own creatures when she'd wake up, though. The girl was a mess. She should really get her house in order.
The demon finally managed to grab, or at least get a nominal grip on Manya before flinging him off of it. Good thing he wasn't smart enough to consider just gulping down the Faerin then and there - maybe it must have thought that Manya wouldn't even make a snack, considering that there was a jiggly necromancer as the main course. Manya ended up tossed off of the demon but was relatively unharmed - a bit of bruising and soreness was way better than, say, being demon chow. Seeing @Iván Carl grab Thalia and run for the exit. The description of 'run like the wind' was perhaps completely apt in this case, although in addition with that Ivan and Thalia seemed to flicker and shift as if they had an illusion over them...or something a bit stronger than illusion working over them. Manya scrambled to his feet and started running to catch up, ducking under attempts to grab him and dashing under demon legs and tentacles and whatever else they used to prop themselves up, but alas, the exit was blocked by what was clearly something beyond either of their match. Manya could have used some seriously powerful White Magic spell on it or something, but the chances are that demon would've just laughed and then stomped him flat, so that option is definitely out. "Inwards!", he yelled and pointed into the gloom of the basement. Of course, it was a terrible idea to lurk inside what was essentially a demonic dormitory, but people always built escape routes and things here, right? Chances are that they could find one of those, maybe get through and once they were safely outside, sic a few paladins and other holy types on this place, before going back to Prontera's for chamomile tea and a 'talk' with Luis. Easy, right? Except now, the group of demons had wised up a bit, having circled in somewhat with all manner of evil and hungry and angry expressions on their faces. The ragged circle was slowly closing in on the trio, and Manya gave a slight cough, still sore from the impact. "We should bust our way through.", he hissed at Ivan, looking around at the ring to find where the strength was at its thinnest. If they both blasted that spot with some White Aeromancy combo attack, that should do well enough for them to bolt out and find someplace to hide and catch their breath, right? "I say...", his eyes alighted on one side, and the monsters there were a bit on the weedy side. Sure, there were more of them than either of them could handle, but surely they could stun them with a bit of shock-and-awe long enough to charge past. "Your left. You take the lead, blast and run!", he was muttering, just in case the demons were bilingual and internally laughing at his plan-making capacity while rearranging their formation.
To admit to the observation that things were not looking good for the World's Greatest Lover, Iván Carl, and his trusty tiny sidekick, @Manya Boole, would be the understatement of the year. Things were most certainly, currently, a massive shitstorm. For some reason, the idea that Manya, a White Mage, could probably White Magic the basement door's guardian to oblivion did not cross Iván's mind. Was it the stress? Was it the fear? Or was it, simply put, the fact that that demon blocking the door felt like it could tank anything Manya could throw at it, turning the attempt at freedom a mere waste of energy? Iván was abruptly pulled out of his thoughts by the Faerin's yelling. Maybe he should just grab him as well, place him squarely beneath his arms, tucked safely like Portia's purse whenever it was raining, and just run to purple god knows where. That would've a great idea, if not for the demons that had started to congregate around them like a pack of well-trained dogs. Well, to be fair, they could be just a pack of well-trained dogs in terms of intelligence and culture. Then again, dogs weren't gross. "Bust our way through?" Iván wasn't a fan of the idea, having taken the preference for playing the support role these days, but from the looks of things, it wasn't like they had a choice. Manya didn't look like he packed enough wallop to blast through the horde of demons. At least, he didn't look like he had anything left in him to do so. Iván could relate. He was also not feeling well after all the running from one point to the next and expending massive amounts of energy for that illusory field. But he still had an ace up his sleeve, a prototype of an ace, something he had been working on for the past couple of days. He hadn't tested it yet but what better time to do so than on the brink of certain death. Iván heaved a sigh, exhaled deeply, and closed his eyes. All he needed to do was concentrate for his Caesium Resonator to reenergize him, to give him a quick boost to his skills, his spells, at least temporarily. "All right, but can your little Faerin legs catch up?" Iván thought of a thousand ways to try and get out of there, get to somewhere far from these demons, buy them some time by hiding and stuff, but only two things seemed feasible at the moment. He wondered, though, if Manya would be okay with it. "Why don't you just climb on my back so I can carry you? You're not that heavy are you?" He let the Faerin consider their options, his options, while he mumbled the necessary words to cast one of those two spells that could help them, "By the fabric of time that waits for no one... Fast forward." While the Caesium Resonator caused Iván to glow along with it as it reinvigorated the chronomancer, the spell that he had to cast made him seem like his entire body was moving in place. Rapidly. Vibrating more appropriately. It wouldn't be hard to get on up his shoulder but it wouldn't be that easy either. Well, for the few minutes the spell would go on, anyway. It wasn't going to last forever, and Iván was going to crumble unconscious as soon as it was done. Fast Forward "All aboard, Manya?"
Manya glanced at Ivan's idea and suggestion. But then, he did have a point - what Manya covered in a five-minute hike, some of these demons could step over and outdo. So he nodded. They were going to explosively bust out, it seems. Since it was time to focus all their efforts, Manya noted that his mana levels were a bit low. Not that it mattered much - he had something for that! Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a very durable vial of one of Madison Freebird's concoction - something to restore energy after a training session, but also a handy tool to replenish it in a pinch. He gulped it down and flung the vial aside. Even before the clinking of tempered glass on the stone floor had finished, though, the Faerin had begun to move, scampering onto Ivan's back with that agility you'd only see in a cornered fox. The vibration over the chronomancer's body made it hard to get a grip, but right now things were life or death, and he couldn't afford to fumble and end up failing. True to form, Manya wasn't all that heavy; if Ivan could knock him out of the yard, he could pretty easily carry the magician around as well, but they were just doing this until Ivan was clear of the encircling demons - he already had to worry about carrying Thalia around, and if appearances were anything to go by her lack of clothing was amply made up for in weight by...other things. Latching his arms around Ivan's shoulder, he nodded grimly. "Pedal to the metal, Ivan.", he said, before focusing all of his newfound surge of energy into one, purely offensive White Magic spell. Sure, it might not win them any battles, but it'd definitely break the formation enough for Ivan to charge past. Shadowglare The demons were scorched, the combination of their natural weakness to White Magic along with the corrupting and corrosive nature of Black Magic itself shredding right through them and their defenses. If they were a brick wall then, they'd be lucky to be more than a really thick Kleenex wall by this point. Of course, they weren't all that great, to begin with, being demonic grunts and all... Time for @Iván Carl to shine!
@Manya Boole was moving slowly, really slowly, as if he was under the effects of some sort of slow motion magic. Whatever that meant. Oh, wait, no. Manya wasn't moving slowly. He was probably just moving at a normal pace. Iván, however, was the one under the effects of a specific kind of magic that made him move faster than normal, perceive things faster than normal, which meant that everything else that wasn't him, looked like they were in slow motion to him. Chronomancy was a tricky little thing. It was dangerous and at the same time highly exciting. In a short amount of time, pun intended, or was that not a pun, Iván had managed to master it. At least parts of it known to adventurers, stuff adventurers were privileged enough, given the honor to, experience and understand. Somewhat. Truth be told, if it hadn't been for someone else, Iván would've probably never reached this kind of potency when it came to the highly unstable form of magic. Then again, highly unstable was just how Iván rolled. As soon as he felt the Faerin was "comfortable" enough, Iván started to bolt out of there, forward, through demons that he knew he could jump over. His dabbling with aeromancy had paid off. Aside from the offensive use of his lightning spells, there was also the most useful matter of wind spells augmenting his mobility, enhancing his speed, delaying his faults, flaws, in terms of agility. He wasn't using any wind spell at that exact moment in time, but he felt like it, and his muscles, thanks to his time magic spell's speed boost, remembered how it was whenever he'd need to run away. It was starting to be his forte, running away. He had only taken three steps when he realized Manya, slow as he was, had tried something to help their combined endeavor. Iván reined himself in, allowing the Faerin to do his magic. It was some sort of blast, surge, that forced the demons before them to break their formation. Basically, if the demons were a door, Manya just kicked them wide open. Iván took that as his cue to run forward, run normally, though through his spell, he was covering more ground in such a short amount of time. And what a short amount of time it was. No sooner than later, Iván felt the effects of his spell weakening, as if it was holding on to him, grabbing him, latching on him, a specter not wanting to disappear back into whatever speed force it had come from. The chronomancer winced as slowly but surely everything around him started to move normally again. Despite all the darkness in the dungeon, the lack of any source of real light save for a few lit torches or two, very gothic, Iván managed to find their trio a safe spot, a corner, an empty perhaps abandoned room, before his spell fully wore off. Iván crumbled to the ground, the floor, stopping dead in his tracks. Neither Black Thalia nor Manya would find themselves thrown forward or backward, if only falling to the ground where they were as with Iván. The chronomancer swallowed air as he began to slowly but surely feel the ache in his muscles, the unwanted race in his heart, his body pretty much compensating for the effort he would've exerted having ran that far in that short amount of time without his magic. Chronomancy was a tricky little thing. Slowly but surely, everything faded to black.
Manya felt like he was sitting on a train, or a bullet train, even, as the duo (trio?) shot past the demon circle and straight into the deep, dark, dank heart of the basement-catacomb. Manya braced himself... ...and then it was done. He blinked and turned around. The demons were according to his senses as far away from them as the length of the mansion could allow. This was pretty huge, for a basement. They had managed to run into the safety of what seemed like a room made for storing...boxes. Or at least, the darkness made it look like coffins. The stench of rot and death was more than enough to signal what kind of boxes they were. He closed his nose, breathing out through his mouth a few times to ward off the pungent smell. Peering out of the door, he looked through the gloom. As far as he could see, even with the assistance of his magic, there was nothing chasing or stalking them through the shadowy halls. They were mostly safe... Well, he was wrong about the former part but right about the latter. Something had followed them, but that was another matter. Damn, that was fast. As Manya flopped off Ivan's back, along with the unconscious Thalia who fell onto the ground face first. Surprisingly enough, her fall was cushioned, and no points for guessing how. But then Ivan fell down too, crumpling into a pile of curry-man. Manya stood up and went to the door, closing it but keeping it ajar slightly, before walking back to Ivan. Was he in Mind Down? "Oy, Ivan, get up!", he hissed, shaking the man's shoulders. But no - between the exhaustion and the energy drain, simply shaking him did not wake him up. He couldn't be...you know...dead, right? Panic seized Manya, before he placed a finger on Ivan's neck, holding a hand under his nose. A few tense seconds passed, during which Manya could barely feel anything through the adrenaline pumped snare drum that was his heart beating in his chest. But he finally felt it. Breathing, Circulation, check on both. He sighed in relief as he sat beside the illusiomancer, but they weren't out of danger yet. A spell that could restore energy...he didn't know of any spell that could do that, to be frank. White Magic revival could grant a bit of energy, but for that, you needed to be dead, and Ivan (thankfully!) was not. He was thinking of alternatives, but nothing came to mind. Thalia was very comfortably snoozing after having been knocked out, by the demons she was supposed to control no less! "What a fine mess we got ourselves into...", he said sadly, but inside, he tried to remain strong. They can make through this! He placed his hands on Ivan's forehead and chest, breathing in and out as he channeled what little energy he had through him. It wasn't much, but it should snap him awake sooner, if only so that they could start figuring out an escape. As for Thalia...well, she comes second. Sure, they were here for the gold, but he wasn't going to let Ivan die, not for all the gold in Falderen! Crrrk, crrrk, crrrk... Manya tensed, hearing a very strange sound. His elfin ears twitched as he stood up, heading towards the door after a quick glance at Ivan. He had given him a fair bit of mana, just enough to gain consciousness if nothing else, and Manya stood in front of the door, waiting. Crrrk-thump, crrrk-thump, crrrk-thump... They were not any sound, but footsteps. A pair of feet, one heavy and the other...metallic? Made of machines and gears? Manya raised both his hands, charging up what little energy he had for a lethal blast. The next thing to come through that door was getting blasted into oblivion, he swore it. Soon, the noise stopped right in front of the door. And then, a metallic hook slid through the gaps of the ajar doorway, before slowly pulling it open. There stood a demon. A monstrosity made of rotting, purple flesh and bronze plating, its red eye glowing through the dim and noticeably Gothic dark. Manya didn't even hesitate, pointing both hands at the demon. His palms glowed a very gentle white, but in demon parlance that should be the equivalent of having a sword pointed at your throat. But then surprisingly enough, the demon shook its head, raising both its hands up in surrender. Manya glared right back at the monster. He should be blasting it before it called reinforcements, not counting the fact that a single shot would probably knock him out too, probably draw the attention of the rest of the horde, and end with all of them turning into demon chow. The demon was shaking its head left and right, seemingly terrified of Manya, before getting onto mismatched knees, arms still up. Was it...surrendering? Manya glared at it. "You think I'm going to fall for that? That's like, the oldest trick in the entire book! Right after cross-dressing and hiding inside a nearby barrel!" He should know - a friend let him read the alleged book. But the demon, he seems persistently shaking his head, pointing to his neck, where some kind of complex machinery was built in, before making a waving gesture. It took a moment, but then... "So you can't speak?" The demon nodded, before pointing to Thalia and gesticulating wildly. Manya could make neither heads nor tails of what the demon was saying, but an idea caught him. The white shin on his palms faded, and the demon looked hopeful for a second. "Sure, you might be trying to help me...but I can't trust you and your actions. Sorry, but not sorry." Of course, it was a demon! It was only natural that the otherwise kind and trusting Manya became heartless when dealing with them. His hands then glowed a sickly violent, and with three steps forward, he walked over and placed a hand on the kneeling demon's head (which was perfectly at level with his hands). "Severa.", he snarled, and the demon went rigid, before collapsing, paralyzed by having the Black Magic within itself seize up. With that, Manya stood over the fallen demon, studying it. "Give me one good reason to trust you." ...! ...! For the simple reason that the demon can't even make gestures now, it just helplessly wobbled a bit on the floor. The machinery on its neck was still damaged, though, and faint creaking could be heard through it. Possibly, it could be fixed and then he could speak, but at the moment, all he had was a White Magician faerin glaring down at him. Terrible shame they didn't have a Tinker at hand...
“How many more times are you going to die?” The voice seemed both familiar and unfamiliar to Iván. He could have sworn he had heard that voice before but he wasn’t sure. No face came to mind even after a few seconds had passed. Perhaps, whoever owned that voice wasn’t anyone to him but a stranger, a person he might have met only once, spoke to him only once, but left an unforgettable impression in him. “I was hoping I’d left more than that.” Iván gasped, as if he had woken from a nightmare. In his mind, he bolted straight up, off of the floor where he fell unconscious moments ago, but in reality, his body had just started to try and make sense of his whereabouts, of what had happened to him. He could feel his heart beat fast but what he could see was still slowly coming to him. Out of that darkness, slowly, carefully, everything else before him came to view. His sight, as normal as it could ever be, gradually came back to him. “Who said that?” Iván murmured in a way that would remind anyone of someone who had just woken up from bed, which was, perhaps, the best way to describe the chrono-illusionist’s state of mind at the moment. Rubbing his eyes, he saw Manya standing over a demon. They had found them? That fast? No, it was just one of them, and the Faerin, despite his tiny Faerin legs and his tiny Faerin arms, was able to subdue it. Just like that. “What the hell’s going on?” That was probably too soon, referencing “hell” in their current predicament. Seeing Manya in control of the threat at hand, Iván turned around him to look for Black Thalia but immediately found her still-unconscious body. He sighed. Things weren’t going to end well if they couldn’t wake her up. But was she drawing the demons to her like some weird guy from another world who ended up in this world bearing the Witch’s scent and going back in time to some sort of save point whenever he died as his one magical power? That would explain the demon Manya had taken down. That would mean others would find them soon. That is, if his theory was correct. “I see I’m not dead yet, and our sleeping beauty is still dreaming about better clothes,” Iván scratched his head, feeling all the aches and pain his body had been harboring from him due to the spell, everything now at the forefront of everything else. They needed a plan. They needed a way out of there. Could they just wake Black Thalia up? Iván went ahead and grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her in an attempt to wake her up, unintentionally making more of her jiggle as he did so. “Hey, inappropriately dressed corpse wrangler! Wake up! We need you here. Wake up or we’ll all be dead. Scratch that, Manya and I are going to exorcise your demons to dust if you don’t wake up right now!” After some more shaking and yelling and jiggling, Iván realized that Black Thalia wasn’t going to wake up real soon. Was it some sort of self-defense? A protection? Just in case things went wrong while she was down in the basement, like what had happened? That was dumb. Falling unconscious to protect herself would’ve just left her vulnerable to becoming demon chow. It had to be something else. Something was preventing her from waking up. But what? He turned to Manya, sighing, “I guess she’s not waking up. Any other ideas?”
When Manya heard @Iván Carl wake up behind him, he looked around slowly. No one could have predicted what he'd do, but the twitching of his hands and the trembling might have clued someone who is more experienced with Faerins about what would happen next. Like a tiny white lightning bolt, Manya ran to Ivan and then hugged him tightly. He was nearly in tears, too. "I thought you died, you...you gobstopper!" He said, landing a very small and frustrated punch on the other before he told himself to get a grip and calm down. He let go and took a shuddery, shaky breath, before exhaling. A few cycles of this, and he was calmer...although he was still shooting eye-daggers at Ivan for the shock he just gave. "This guy," he began, jabbing a thumb backward at the paralyzed demon. "...somehow followed us, even after we bolted at light speed. But he can't speak because he's half-automaton and his neck machinery is busted. I was wondering if we could interrogate him about what the heck is happening, because...". He paused to peer at Thalia. She was still unconscious. This was wrong. She was just hit in the head, and while concussions are severe at times did they have to draw the single time it'd send a person into a semi-coma? He could see that she was not dead but...there was something wrong about her aura, her life-force. Eh, it must be one of them necromancer things, having a screwed up view on life, death, and natural cycles. He shook his head, returning to the topic at hand. "Anyways, yeah. Shame we can't do that, really. This demon was awfully submissive, though. Didn't try anything, just came over and then stood there to get zapped." He turned around to study the motionless creature, whose face was still moving about - he was looking from Manya to Ivan, and then back and forth before finally looking at Thalia. If a mechanical-demonic face could express exasperation, this would be the moment. "Ideas though...we should really take this time to like, breathe and prepare for the demons coming. Sit down, Ivan, you're nearly about to collapse." He gave Ivan one more dagger-eyed stare, before breathing out and slumping against a wall. So tired...but they had to keep moving. Exhaustion was temporary, being food for beings from other worlds was pretty darn permanent, though. "What about you? Got any bright plans?" He turned to look at Thalia once more, not in his occasional and well-hidden aura vision but with normal eyes, and his face grew hot. "Ivan you dummy! Did you take off her clothes?!" Well, not exactly so. The stress of air resistance and getting shaken in the hopes of being awakened all had ended up being too much for one of the straps on the weird bone-dress thing to snap, and now there she lay, her clothes not even covering what they were supposed to, much less anything else. Manya looked away, his cheeks blushing pink.
