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Lyonesse cursed softly to himself. This was the second time, recently, that he'd run into a General-King. This was definitely a thing he needed to stop doing, before he got himself killed or recorrupted. Particularly since he hadn't even managed to find Fangite, yet, except for rumors that maybe a Nega by that name had purified.

But oh, god, the voice. It was impossible for him to not recognize that voice. The heavy Germanic accent was one of the things very solidly burned into his mind from his time in the Negaverse, and it flared up a hatred that still lingered.

He might have run, otherwise, but he really liked the idea of being able to punch in the Youma King's face.

"Bischofite!" He called, his tone falsely cheerful. His hands tightly curled aorund his staff, and he approached, stupidly - he was very well aware it was stupid, and he managed to not actually care. There was buckets of false confidence in his step. "God, they'll promote anyone these days. So glad I got out of the Negaverse, I'd hate to have to take orders from you."

False Natron.

The title crawled under his skin - it was worse than just being addressed by his former mineral name, because it carried with it a tide of derision and disrespect. His fingers curled tightly around his staff, refusing to let go even with a General-King pulling on it. Being pinned in place between Bischofite and a tree was not a position he particularly liked, but there wasn't exactly much he could do to get out of it. He had given up the gift of teleportation when he gave up being an officer.

"Why does it matter to you, whose crystal cleansed me? Going to send them a fruit basket for getting me out of your hair?" He asked. Apparently he had picked up one thing from Persephone - her tendency to mouth off in the face of death.

"Cut me open, tar my wounds shut, and try again - I'm not telling you s**t, you wretched sack of putrescence." Bravery in the face of such overwhelming odds was deeply unwise, but he had his signet - if he could get a moment, he could call for assistance, and hopefully backup would be swift in arriving. "I would literally rather die than recorrupt, so why don't you just get it over with and take my head back to Persephone? I hear she's holding your leash, these days, and that she wants me dead pretty badly."

He had to bite his cheek until it bled to keep from screaming when Bischofite's sharp wingbones stabbed into him - and only then did his grip slacken on his staff, because one of them pierced straight through that shoulder. Nothing vital, but bleeding that much wasn't going to be good for ******** you," he hissed, which was a rather pale defiance in the face of everything.

Lyonesse shuddered, disgusted by the close contact with someone he had always loathed. He often missed the ability to pull starseeds - this was one of those moments, because with Bischofite so close he could have reached out and grasped it and it would be done. Instead, he had to endure this, and he grit his teeth, biting back another hiss of pain as the bone-spears retracted from his body, leaving nasty, bleeding holes.

"Jealous, then? That they could save me, and you're still a disgusting, dripping glob of filth?" He sneered. Ah yes, keep on needling the person who had been crazy even before he got merged with a youma, surely that couldn't possibly end poorly. Particularly when he was being threatened with being hauled off to the two most brutal General-Sovereigns for torture that would probably be all the worse because he was ex-Negaverse. God, he really should've looked into that Transcendence thing - at least then he could be reassured that Chaos couldn't touch him and they would have to torture him to death.

At least the mention of Persephone had served as appropriate distraction. Now he was angry, and that anger would serve as a distraction. Lyonesse finally released his hold on his weapon - it would come back to him next time he powered up.

"I don't think I'll be playing too much more with either of you," he said, "even as much as I'm sure she'd like to see me dead." It was too bad, really - he would have liked to see Persephone free of Chaos's grip, too, but there was no way she would ever turn away from it. Not with so many people holding her there so firmly. "And by the way? It's Lyonesse of Earth."

He took a dive to get away from Bischofite, which was a little desperate and he knew it, but he needed some distance so the General-King couldn't just kill him. In that moment he was glad for the upgrade to his signet ring that would allow him to make voice contact with the first Royal Knight he could think of.

"Babylon," he said, activating the hologram sending, "it's Lyonesse, and I could really use some help - I uh, may have pissed off a General-King."

To put it mildly.

Bischofite smiled. "A disgusting, dripping glob of fils'... I like zat. Tell me more, Lyonesse." The creature dropped the knight's weapon unceremoniously, only half-listening to the clatter on roots while he slowly approached the wounded man. Naught but a few flecks of blood adorned the tips of his wings now - none of the thick tar that the man so disparaged earlier.

The call for help offered another interesting surprise - Knights managed their own communicators, highly akin to Negaverse issue crystals yet capable of projection. "Don't forget to tell zis Babylon zat it's Bischofite - and tell me how he or she reacts, would you? It's always interesting to watch how ozzers revolt at my mention. However, I'f never heard of Babylon, so I suspect such reactions would be dull confusion... How disappointing." The creature spread both wings as he walked, displaying thick bone mottled with dying sinew. Some portions of the muscle retained blackened portions, wholly stained from exposure to tar over the years. Even the bones themselves lacked a gleam.

He watched False Natron hurry through the thick of the woods, body contorted in an attempt to favor the myriad punctures dotting his sides and shoulders. While not deep, they proved painful and potentially threatening depending on their juxtaposition to arteries. Yet the man's visage disappeared beyond the bushes, not yet straying far enough to stifle his auric energies. "Ze forest betrays you, Lyonesse. Ze people betray you. Ears' betrays you. At its core festers ze greatest heights of ze Negaverse - as you well know. All zis ceaseless prattling on, ze meaningless challenges, ze stubborn struggles against Metallia's rule... What point is zere to your efforts? Ze snakes will play in ze dust from your corpse before day breaks, False Natron."

A cold blue light glowed beyond a pair of thick birch trees, bobbing tentatively in its approach. The creature hummed lowly. I assume that would be Babylon - a Royal Knight, it seems. How exciting... I wonder what will come of this evening? Who will die tonight? In a breath, the creature shifted a dozen feet through the thick of trees. Another breath, and he knew a glimpse of the knight bearing great power through bows heavy with summer leaves. One last spatial shift left him not far from the pair, wings poised in tandem with talons, and a strike followed just slightly before his perceptions shifted to accommodate his new location.

Reut intercepted Bischofite's strike, his talons and wing-spines sinking into her snowy flank. Babylon felt the moment keenly, a flash of searing not-quite-pain from the direction of his summons, and he glanced behind him just in time to see the leopard vanish into smoke. "Cauldron," he swore under his breath. "If only Avalon had finished killing him when she had the chance."

Lyonesse's overall manner and his mention of the wing-bones being sharp clued Babylon in that he had been injured, and that made this situation all the more urgent. Escaping from anyone with teleportation skills was nearly impossible - in the past he'd only managed it due to a tremendous mix of dumb luck and sheer ineptitude.

Properly stunning them usually worked, at least.

Now, with the lead Reut had bought them quickly vanishing and no means of escape, Babylon turned to face the beastly general-king. He spun his lantern on its chain, turning the spined globe into a whirl of color and light. If he could catch Bischofite across the head, or even strongly across the torso, then they'd safely be able to make a run for it. He had no plans to die here - not at Bischofite's hands, not tonight.

"Get moving," he said to Lyonesse, watching the general-king close the space between them. Timing would be everything here. Too soon, and he'd miss. Too late, and, well, that went without saying. "I'll catch up."

Now, he judged, as Bischofite closed in. Babylon changed the trajectory of the lantern swiftly, bringing the arc of the swing down towards the General-King's head. He readied himself to turn and run, legs tensing for a jump that might not ever come. All he could hope was that the blow connected.