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Kchain ran up beside Owle, having decided to resheathe his sword (although notably, he still had the gun out) and placed both hands on the chassis of the car, to her right as it was the top left tire that was crushing the mans leg.

"Oh thank-k-k-k you!"

"Ah!" Owle sprang up from where she was, turning to face Kchain as he ran up beside her. She landed in an incomplete fighting stnace. Her knees were bent, legs ready to move, but her arms hung loosely at her side. This woman was not a fighter; she was, however, used to being in dangerous situations, and when one hears footsteps running towards her, one doesn't just sit still.

When she saw it was a man, and not a zombie, and that his intentions seemed to peaceful, she sighed in relief, and helped him to lift the car. Her strength was not unusual for a woman of her age, however, so he ended up doing the bulk of the work.

"You scared me," she admonished him, as she once again knelt by the injured guy. "Thanks for the help. If you're looking for stuff to kill, well..." She noticed the carnage all around the city, and let the sentence trail off. "I guess I don't really need to direct you."

She examined the man's wound as she spoke, first stopping the blood flow and disinfecting the area. This man wasn't going to be able to walk straight for a while...they were going to need to find some sort of shelter.

"Where did you come out of?" she asked Kchain. "I can't leave these people out in the open for any of the undead to eat."

"They call themselves, Lucretia, captain."

"Lucretia? That's not one of ours. What's the status of our forces?"

"Mages Simms, Richdale, and Steelson are dead, along with a majority of their representive forces. Mage Spellforger is safely on board. The General and Mage Ziphos are still engaged."

"Alert the high priest. The time is upon us."

The little girl's eyes widened in terror as the necromancer seized her, coughing as she choked, the collar of her shirt beneath her jumper straining against her windpipe, her cheeks turning red from lack of air.

"AHHHHHHHHH!!--"

Silence. Her scream was silenced as blood bubbled from a grinning hole in her neck, crimson and vocal cords smiling at him as the crescent blade opened a second mouth in her flesh.

PAIN.

The worst pain she'd ever felt--

Is this how it felt to die?

Her tiny pulse fluttered weakly as darkness swam over her vision.

But suddenly, a blistering white heat overcame her, scorching and searing the flesh closed, as she coughed up a mouthful of blood.

Her hand went to her throat, feeling a lumpy, uneven scar. There was something about this child that prevented his white magicks from healing her perfectly.



She didn't say anything, as if she was too traumatized to form words. Her eyes were far too wide as she looked around at the devestation and trembled. Burrying her face against Ryugi's neck, her tiny arms slipped around his neck and clung.





The little girl's hand plunged into the back of Ryugi's neck, as it formed what seemed more like talons rather than fingers. The knife-like extremities plunged through the back of his spinal cord, severing nerves and pushing through vertebrae, not stopping until they'd pushed through further, slicing through his trachea and vocal cords. The talons retracted and the little girl drew back a pudgy fist covered with blood and thicker things.

Even if Ryugi was somehow able to cling to life, it would only be a matter of seconds until the poison that secreted from her hand as it tore through his neck and throat reached the brain.

Chances were he would bleed out before the poisons full effects hit him.

That had been the child's small mercy.

The poison, entering the nerves and bloodstream so close to the brain would be fast acting.

First his body would be paralyzed, then it would break into uncontrollable spasms. The muscles would constrict so tightly as his body was jerked about by his renegade nervous and muscular system, that he would essentially break his own back and ribs, puncturing the lungs and vital organs.

The secretion also corroded the area of the brain that made one capable of using magick.

Obliterating the ability to create, channel or otherwise use anything metaphysical, innate or learnt.

But she had opted to spare this man that kind of humiliation and torture.

Instead she knelt by him.

This was the true nightmarish reality of what Drae'shli'yian'ah's Toy Soldiers were capable of.

She smiled, and there seemed to be more teeth than could possibly fit in that little face, needle-like rows of jagged fangs grinned at him as she sing-songed softly,

"Time to go to sleep~"

Ryugi would hit ground as his vision began to blur, and things started to feel cold. But the little girl would be denied her prize as Ryugi's own shadow seemingly encased him, and pulled him away in less than a second, leaving nothing behind...

The effect wouldn't be of Ryugi's doing, but of another's, oddly enough planned for an entirely different reason.

One way or another, Ryugi Kazamaru had left the battlefield. What became of him at this point was anyone's guess.

No response.

This was usually the precursor to hostile fire from SAM or a strike force of interceptors. But these were the kind of things you had to deal with when you ran a transport into openly hostile air space.

"Move it! Someone knows we're here."

Six men in full suits of grey and red armor departed the vessel with two four-wheeled dollies carrying massive metal crates. Four of the individuals were carrying long green metal munition boxes in pairs. One suit of armor with a rifle led the group off and running through an alley, with another rifle-wielding squadmate following close behind.

Still on the ground the transport kept the hatch open and waiting.

Four men in suits came from hiding in a nearby building and hurried onto the transport. All of them in black suits, one young with blonde hair, another with aged grey hair, a shorter pale man, and a tanned giant towering over the rest.

The hatch slid closed and the turbines whirred back to life and took the Charon into the air. It would speed off and leave an explosion of air as the craft broke the sound barrier.

"How long?"
"Hours. I could not speak to the Colonel myself, personally."

Into?

Oh no no. Through. Through the wall.

His eyes widened as the construct grabbed the other end of the beam...a prospect he was most certainly not ready for. The situation was far more difficult to resolve than it might outwardly appear. His right hand, that metal monstrosity was not simply holding the I-beam, it was in the I-beam. Sharp bladed fingers, could easily pierce through metal and they did.

Of...

He couldnt simply release his grip, he would have to find a way to rip it free. And so his body was a rag doll, at the end of the beam, being violently swung by his one powerful arm around...with an explosion of brick and mortar he was smashed clean through the fragmented wall. His body screamed, it seemed there wasnt a bone that did not protest in unspeakable agony.

Pop. Pop. POP.

...Cour--

If there was anyone close enough to hear, three distinct pops filled the air each immediately after the one before.. That was the dislocation of his right wrist, elbow, and shoulder. With a streak of black sparks filled the air as his claw was wretched free from the I-beam and Maximos was sent soaring backwards through the air. Like a beaten lifeless form of flesh Maximos sailed backwards at a nearby building.

His leg ping the fire escape tossing his body into a violent spin sending it shoulder first crashing into the buildings wall, bricks and drywall exploding outwards. An odd metallic gong barely echoing out, as it was muffled in the collapse of wall. Bit of broken wall rained on the street below, along with a stream of water from a broken water main.

On the telepathic channel, Maximos fell completely and totally silent. As if his mind had just been forcefully wretched off the connection.

The fallen body eagerly accepted the blood of Descant, the arcanic power flowing through its corrupted veins. The fatally fractured skull of the corpse mended itself back together, once again safehousing the human brain properly. The spell complete, Moonblade's eyes opened, the sickly green color slowly bleeding back into the cloudy spheres.



"...as you command."

The newly raised appiration raised to his feet, grabbing onto the back of his head with his left hand. It looked like someone clobbered him in the head, which was quite the understatement. Moonblade didn't exactly know what had happened, but he figured something had to have attacked him from behind.

Previously Decruda had him 'ascend' into a false life through a peculiar ritual, granting him a pardon from death. However, thanks to this new ritual, he was fully undead now. Not that he would know much of a difference; he was still a freak. He was practically a lich/vampire anyways.

Right... Barton...

Moonblade was disorientated; the spell did nothing to cure the concussion he now had. Staggering once, he took a moment to look around at the chaos the surrounded him and get his bearings. He didn't notice the fleeing Dragon-Warrior, seeing as he ran off before Moonblade made it to his feet.