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Adalwulf blocked the sun's glare from his eye with a hand, staring up at the sky. Then he hastily re-strapped his crossbow and grabbed Treylon by the arm and started to run. "Dummköpfe!" He said gruffly again.

I thought it would last longer. "Hm?" Fenrir heard the voice echo in his head. "Oh, the dragon. I feel bad for the guy you turned into the dragon." You are not one to talk. That was a minor distraction for the fools who stand against me.

The dragon jerked around in the air, spasming in it's death throes and blood gushed from the wound. Then the giant wings stopped beating and the beast fell down towards the town, it's weight carried by gravity.

As Adalwulf grabbed Treylon's arm, and said something Treylon said to him "Hold on I got to get my bow." He went over to where his bow lay in two pieces. He picked up the bow, and gave a depressing sigh then said to himself "Well got a night of rigorous repair to do." He then went over to where Adalwulf, and Reis where to discuss what they were going to do.

Reis nodded appreciatively, and quaffed the thick fluid. It tasted of garbage and curry, but its effect was immediate. Reis's body's natural healing sped up, and the most grievous of his injuries began to close up. ((lols at "would you kindly." bioshock, anyone?)) He weaved a little magic to heal the scorch marks across the flesh of his arms and shoulders, and grunted loudly as his bones snapped back into place.
"I may not ever die a natural death...but I am by no means immune to pain," he remarked with a forced chuckle. "Well...what's our next move? We're going to need to recruit help, it seems. The four of us don't seem powerful enough to stop them as things stand, now."

Tumma heard her name, echoing through the expanse that was Darkness. She ignored it, and continued sulking. She held up her pink, human arm and examined the frail flesh. The black false skin that hid her human nature was slowly creeping back up her arm, but it would be a few days before the pale flesh was dark and scaly all across it again. She instead wrapped up the arm in the folds of her cloak, hiding it from her comrades for the time being, as they had not seen it yet. She liked to keep it that way.

Aetas suddenly smiled at Reis's words, despite her tiredness. "You remind me of someone, saying that. But you will die when you are intended to."
Adalwulf grunted and drew her attention to the present matter.
"Yes, recruits. That is what I have been trying to do lately." Aetas went on, standing up from the bench. "I believe Adalwulf has agreed--"
"Have not."
"--to track down one of the ones responsible for what happened here. For now, we need to find a larger force."

Well, that's one. Fenrir uncrossed his legs and stood on the invisible floor, taking stock of the arrow in question. "Alright, stand still and clench your teeth." He reached out, taking hold of the light shaft. A purple hazed flowed over it, dispelling most of the enchantment. Then, he tore the arrow out unceremoniously. "There you go, sorry it had to be so painful." He let the arrow disappear into nothingness. "Tumma. Tumma Puma! Come on out."

"Why yes, yes I did." Fenrir smiled harmlessly at Tumma, showing his sharp teeth and giving a small bow. Then he sneezed in the silence, covering his mouth with a hand. He excused himself politely, since it didn't look like anyone else would. "I was just wondering where you'd gone off to. After all, you took off like you'd been burned in a fire." A cold presence welled up with his chest and he blinked, curious. I thought you were tired. Not as much as you thought. Gah, shame.

Tumma was across the expanse in an instant, the fingers of her black hand around the loudmouthed Zalmor's throat.
"You would do well to mind your tongue, little man," she hissed, tightening her grip. She slung him into the emptiness behind her, and turned to Fenrir.
"Well, then...are we going to do anything more meaningful than raze worthless villages, Mr. Mouthpiece-for-Darkness?"

Tumma huffed and turned up her nose. He wounded pride would take even longer to heal than her arm. Since becoming a demon, she had never, never been bested in pitched combat. Losing was a feeling quite unfamiliar to her.
"Name it, eh?" she mumbled, thinking to herself. "What of this?" She used the folds of her robe to form an image of a skeletal hand, set in a shield-sized broach like a grisly gem. This mystical trinket had the power to repel white magic, and restore the black matrix of power that gave demonkind their strength. She hoped it might prevent future defeat when fighting Reis and his associates.