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The Striped Demon

Now that the battle was over, Kat was beginning to shrivel back into her alternate form. It was not a painless transformation. With a roar, the black fur on the demon split into an alternating black and purple, and she continued to shrink. Kat's metallic spines forced themselves back into her body, resulting in a grunt of pain from the demon. With the transformation complete, Kat stood in her alternate form, breathing heavily. "Every time...It's always is more painful going back..." Kat mumbled under her breath. The Demon's pain was apparent, for the wound she had suffered in her original form left a permanent scar on this form. Kat could feel it, and it would cripple her for a while.

Though she was injured, Kat was not going to dwell on herself. Kat tailed after the Centaur on all fours. "I smell a bad omen.." Kat said, as her sensitive nose caught the scent of rotting flesh. One bad thing was just happening after another, and Kat couldn't take much more of it. The demon caught up with the centaur, but said nothing of what she smelled.

-Exit to The Grand Woods-

Tyrant King Doko Lotrius


"The city is under siege my lord." Mordin announced, the massive wooden doors seeming to burst open wide with a mere touch from the combat caster. "It appears the dead have risen to smite the living." He explained in an apathetic tone, fearing quite little for his own safety as any Dread Knight would. Doko on the other hand began to display features of concern, pressing his fist firmly against his chin, despite the commonly restful position he held. Gritting his teeth at the news he simply turned to the Dengen expert, his glare fearsome as ever as he jabbed a grimy uncleaned finger towards his general.

"Well why haven't you done something yet? You're a big boy...wipe them off the face of the earth. I'll not see their faces upon this plane again....understand?" He ordered, Mordin taking a knee to acknowledge the order. "Light the wall..."

"Yes my lord." the Dread agreed, his body turning into what appeared to be a flickering flame. As the fearless man seemed to become a Blazeheart before the eyes of the royal hall, even his thick helm bursting into flames, the fire suddenly flickered out, leaving only smoke and small embers behind.



Suddenly, upon the high walls of Dokoro, a fiery explosion erupted upon the designated platform, Mordin appearing before a group of twenty Black Diamond Knights to say the least. Turning towards the men standing at the ready, the combat mage simply spoke an utterance of just a few words.

"Set them ablaze."

The moment the words rolled from his tongue, slipping between the crevices of his glinting armor, the Knights moved out to their posts, sparing not a second to light the signal torches as they passed. Soon the wall which surrounded the city was illuminated with the flames of the signal fires, scorching the prepared tender and wood piles which had been place fresh that day. The moments that followed were loud, shaking the very earth with their force as the Knights of Dokoro went to work.

Those of the defensive division began to lob small explosives into the crowds of warriors which approached their ranks, while archers took aim for the ranged equipment of their foes. All the while, the warriors of the city began to unveil a wall of flames to surround the stone structures, burning anything within five feet of the thick massive rock. All that remained to breach was the iron gates of the city, where every thug, every knight, and every unyielding warrior of Dokoro's Army awaited, for they could not assist upon the wall.

"Send them back to the lower planes where they belong." Mordin roared, taunting the undead from atop the towering wall.

Tyrant King

Doko Lotrius

"Downpour!" The Dread commander roared, ordering his men with the single phrase to either make haste and take cover or lift their shields high to protect their bodies. Many upon the wall simply took refuge beneath the canopy of the archer towers, though not all were fast footed enough to evade the relentless onslaught. Mages and combat casters such as Mordin himself would simply send a surge of energy to deflect the deadly projectiles, while the unfortunate unshielded peasants beyond the walls in the city bellow were forced to either take cover behind a knight, or whimper for themselves as they were pierced by the small whistling spears.

Momentarily the blaze which had marked the city like a beacon in the night ceased, as many men focused on self protection from the wave of arrows, something which the Dread enjoyed very little of. Taking hold of a nearby caster's scraggly scarf, Mordin pulled the flailing man up into the air by a single arm, lifting the poor drouk to face his fearsome gaze closely regardless of the fact that he stood at nearly seven feet tall.

Beyond the shadow of his helm which shrouded his infuriated appearance a short spray of spittle splattered from within as the Dread roared in anger. The moist fluid joining the beads of sweat which had spawned from the excessive heat developed by the massive inferno.

"Your focus is on that wall! I don't give half a knoxing troll's back if you get hit by an arrow or if you step inside one of the canopies! Your job is to keep that wall burning until the siege is over!" He roared, throwing the frightened caster nearly fifteen feet before he was ground against the stone, bouncing beneath the cover of another canopy. "Cover the knoxing wall, or do you want our infantry to be overrun because you couldn't stand a knoxing p***k in the side!" Mordin boomed, his fury bursting through the iron plates just before he turned to throw a meteor of flames down towards their foes. Turning then to face a group of men fast climbing the steps to the outer walls, the battle caster altered the direction of his voice...the other casters upon the wall clearly receiving the message as the flames spread over the stone barrier once more.

"Heavy impact crew, prepare your long distance projectiles...looks like they want to try an outlast us." He ordered, intending to claim every kill, every casualty, every last boo boo he could manage before the Dragon was placed in charge of the battle. For a man who particularly enjoyed his position of command, he had no intention of letting his fellow Dread take the glory with his gallant infantry units during this war.



"Grand King, shall I send word to Garnoff to call their banners?" The Dread asked with an apathetic tone, gazing down at the Tyrant's toes as he bowed in a low humble manner, his knee scraping at the blood stain which still remained uncleansed from the surface of the decorative path. "It would be better that they loose theirs than that we loose ours." He continued making the statement as if Lotrius were without experience in warfare, placing a steal plated hand upon the thick red carpet in order to assist in supporting his bulky frame as Obsidus knelt.

Shifting about in his golden throne, pressing several fluffed pillows aside, as his pale fingers toyed with one of his many blood earned trinkets, Doko seemed to be once more calm and at ease, even with the enemy upon his door step. It was no secret that the Tyrant cared little for the lives of fodder, his peasants were merely an excess of training targets for his blood thirsty assassins, and barbaric brawlers. Any man who would dare fall upon his fields of battle would not find themselves buried along side their ancestors lest their brother or father had accompanied them beyond the wall to drag their limp corpses home. Those who would dare litter the lands of war were nothing but lumps to trip over for the king, but he still managed to value his own above those of another's rule.

"Spare the hawks their flight to Garnoff....I'll not need the Silver Knights to step foot on my empire. Instead, I have another ally who's blade has yet to be tested. A man who's reputation I fear might make your own appear minuscule Obsidus...send him a letter." Lotrius commanded, intentionally prodding at the Dragon's pride, regardless of how unmoved the knight appeared beneath the heavy weight of his Grand King's words.

"Who would that be my lord?" Obsidus asked, lifting his gaze from the crimson flooring to nearly meet with Doko's own. With a clever grin, the Tyrant then turned to his knight as if to encourage him, despite incompetence, something which many had witnessed in their visits to the royal halls of the Tyrant's keep, and the Grand King of Dokoro had a knack for being convincing.

"Arkadius." He chuckled, lifting himself from his position upon the throne to step down towards the knight, patting him on the shoulder as he passed one of the countless marble columns.

Tyrant King Doko Lotrius


"Fire!" Mordin declared, the heavy projectiles soaring through the air like dragons to strike near their distant foes, burying themselves in either foe or soil. "Focus your heavy ballista upon the shielded targets. If we take those with armor down before they breach the gates, then we will hold a considerable advantage." The caster instructed, turning to witness yet another volley of arrows hurling his way. A simple pulsation of his dengen aura however was suffice to direct their paths elsewhere, their rugged iron tips embedding themselves into the stones about him, yet refraining from piercing his form.

Some of the archers began to laugh, making jest at the few among the undead who rushed forth from the horde, seeming as if they were cowards or fools. "I bet that one died of a back wound." One bellowed. As the unwary soldiers became more and more at ease with the battle however, Mordin alone recognized the rising threat of the sprinting corpses.

"Aim at those who come forth!" the Dread roared furiously, his anger rising with every second they spent in ignorance. The moment the first wave of creatures reached their structures however, the laughter came to an end, an abrupt eruption taking it's place. Suddenly, as a gathering of sprinters caught themselves together within the blaze of the city's bulky wall, a massive burst of energy rippled through the defenses of Dokoro, spreading a crack who's depth cut through the wall entirely, and which began to spread about the structure's whole.

Stone began to fall from the barrier, bricks and wall segments seceding from the high canopies entirely as the area began to crumble. Moving with great haste and a long stride, Mordin rushed towards a single end of the platform, as the wall behind him caved in, one of the heavy artillery ballista falling along side it. The soldiers before him however stumbled, falling over the sudden shifts of the vicinity as if they were born without the proper balance, or drive to proceed. Without a thought, the Dread took hold of their collars, thrusting two forth with such ease that the force of their collusion bowled the men before them over onto more sturdy footing.

Meanwhile the mage himself began to fall alongside the wall, the cracks carried far as the stone slabs fell in varying direction. Mordin began by leaping forth onto a diving barricade which had turned over, before thrusting himself in another direction, running across the top of an archer's canopy, now twice turned over in the air. From there he stepped from the corpse of a prior stricken soldier, onto a wall which had nearly reached the ground. One final bound and the Dread landed into a roll, placing a hand down upon the moist green grass to halt his momentum from further travel.

Standing alone before the rubble of the wall, where at least a hundred yards of the structure had fallen to reveal the city beyond, Mordin stood unscathed....prepared for the next wave...