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Joe stumbled back, putting distance between himself and his opponent while he was vulnerable. He threw up a hard wind between them to make it difficult to attack, but it didn't affect the knife's path at all.
He shook his head, groaning. "Siber! Damn you, what's taking so long?" He raised a fist as fire began to gather, then dropped it as he grabbed his head. "God," he moaned. "This is...Gahh."
Shaking his head, he decided to try something new. He raised his left arm out straight, thumb up and first two fingers out. His right arm was held out straight as well, fist clenched. He was turned to the side, his left arm pointing at Helmsborough as he presented the smallest target possible.
"Let's try something new..."
Trying his best to exert some kind of control over the nebulous Wind, Joe opened his right hand. A hazy shape appeared above and below his left...a bow? Joe's right hand moved forward, stopped, and began to pull back. The bow bent, just like a real bow. A bolt of fire appeared on the "string."
Joe was about to release when the bow and string vanished and the fire arrow fell to the ground, dissipating.
Well. That hadn't worked. But it was worth future attempts.

"Damn me? I'll give you something to damn." Something in Siber... twitched. Whether it was his eye or some component of his psyche made physical was difficult to determine, but the dæmon he summoned was about to be significantly more violent than it normally had a reputation for, even for a high-level survival dæmon.
Out of his chest tore a black, pulsating spike that seemed to withdraw light from the surrounding world. Blood erupted from his chest, but the wound healed as soon as the dæmon exited, leaving him gasping for breath, but physically unharmed. His shirt, though, sported a gaping, blood-stained hole nearly the diameter of his chest.
Once free, the dæmon shuddered once, then increased frequency until it became a vibration, before appearing to stop. It remained an object of angles for a second more, then shifted to form a prism shape. Siber looked at it and panted heavily, smiling a little crazily as one hand traced the exit point in his chest to check for tenderness and the other gripped his spear.
Normally, the creature would probably have made an attempt to stop the knife. However, it was just barely too late to do so, anyway, and so ignored Paul's predicament. It stayed where it was, hovering in air, appearing to pulse quietly. Something about it seemed to draw those around it in...
Abruptly, it swiveled on its center and pointed one end at Helmsborough. A force, quick and unbelievably powerful, drew the avatar in as though he were on a fish hook.
Siber asked.

Siber threw his gaze to Joe. "You ask wonderful questions." Feeling that his little slip from sanity was due to end, he initiated what was always a quick shift from one realm of the psyche to the other, from that which was deadly rational and physically uncontrolled to that which was perfectly controlled and slightly more bent on the fantastic.
Something held him back, though, and his eyes widened briefly before he accepted his position. While this powerful a chakra was activated, especially to summon this particular dæmon, he would simply have to stay in whatever state he had chosen at the moment. For now, he was operating under the confines of the mentality that had surfaced during his conversation at the coffee shop with the People In Black and again on the plane. It was a dangerous path to tread, but because he knew why it existed and because of his experience here, he could feel how to bend it to his will.

((As long as I'm the only one on, I'm gonna go ahead and offer this post-post edit/clarification, just 'cuz I used poor wording in the last post; this dæmon is only physically pulling Helmsboy in. Everyone else is just kind of intrigued, unless they're impervious, which I imagine some of them probably are.))

At the exact time frame that Helmsborough's sword touched the dæmon, its "poles" switched, not only absolutely reversing the avatar's momentum but instilling a general sense of distaste in those around it. Siber, impervious to the effect, leapt aboard and asked that the thing chase after Helmsborough as he was tossed along the ground. How far was "out of range?" He would find out quick enough, at this speed.

Helmsborough grunted and hissed as he danced backwards, keeping his footing, utilizing brute magical force to reduce the effect of the push to near nothing when he was about ten feet away and working his way back towards it.

The ash on Paul's nose was blown away by the wind, sailing across the battlefield with wind's normal quirks. It spun about, seemingly the last evidence of the fact that Paul had entered the fight at all. It skidded across the dragon's tail, then quite suddenly stopped. Almost as if of its own accord.

And in fact that was why it stopped, because suddenly the earth shook. The wind kicked up. Every cubic inch of air anywhere near the fight suddenly turned either very hot and muggy or very cold and dry. For a long moment, nothing came of it. The fight between Helmsborough and Siber and Joe raged on, and Fyrin desperately was trying to drag the dragon away, which was not going so well.

Darius decided he might do better at it and popped into existence with a noise suspiciously like "shoop".

Instantly the earth was again still, but the air fluctuated more wildly, and ice crystals began to form around him, merely floating in the air. His form itself was a wonder. Every inch of "flesh" was pure darkness; absolute, glossy black. The body was humanoid, but had a rather suspicious lack of a visible head; instead, the shoulders were rounded and smooth where the neck ought to have been. Somewhere high on his chest, there were four little points of color, each appearing to be some sort of gem. One was red, one blue, one green, and one white. They seemed to function as eyes, as whenever he wanted to look at something they shifted slightly in that something's vague direction. The entire thing was about ten feet tall, and seemed to be growing still, for obvious reasons; the one burly fist wrapped around the dragon's tail was not going to do it. No, Darius needed to be bigger, so he would be.

He suddenly threw his whole body into it, and the earth gave a little twitch. His power came straight from the elements that surrounded him, and it seemed that he was gaining power as he stayed.

Darius burst into laughter. This was not a particularly unpleasant thing, besides the fact that his laughter made the world feel like it was twitching, while simultaneously giving the effect of holding a badly-balanced gas motor to one's back, i.e. a very great deal of itching. When he was finished, he grinned at Joe. His mouth was about where the bottom of an average human's ribcage would be, and apparently had no lips, which was understandable in this instance. "If getting noticed was your biggest concern, you're too late, you know," Darius told him. "LA was thieved from my realm." Here Darius' voice, which was already very, very, very deep, dropped a few octaves and became a dangerous hum. It rose to where it had been before when he said, "The dragon, too, is a dead giveaway, don't you think?" he asked, gathering force from the elements and preparing to spin it away into the air.