• Event • [Global Event] Battle To The Tomb of Treid

[Padraig]

Having been one of the last few, perhaps the last to charge into the portal, Padraig would flee chaos, only to be thrust into it again. The portal was dark, he could hardly see where he was going in spite of what looked like starlight, and on the way his shoulder was jarred against the other's. He'd bumped into more than one in fact, and which direction they were headed was impossible to tell. After being knocked about, he was having trouble himself knowing which way was forward, and which way was back. He only knew that backwards, meant a hall that was destroyed, and probable death for those unlucky enough to have not gotten out in time.

If he'd gotten farther after emerging at the other end, he'd have needed to decide which way to go. To the healer's tent? He'd have assumed that Faith might have gone that way. She'd have been safer there, he'd have decided. To the battlefield, to the thick of it, he'd have come to the conclusion that indeed, his particular skills and way of thinking would be more useful defending the walls.

But he didn't come to the choice at all. As soon as he emerged from the portal and his senses were assaulted by a world of cold and chaos, he nearly collided with a figure, bent over too near the portal's exit to escape notice. Padraig stopped in his tracks, assuming at first it was the man he'd grabbed and thrust towards the portal at the other end. But it wasn't. No, he recognized this figure from the meeting in the hall just trials before. One of the Immortals. Hope, that was his domain if the young man remembered correctly.

It was too dark to judge the exact cause of the trouble. Only that there seemed to be trouble indeed. Was the Immortal injured? Collapsed from exhaustion? It didn't matter, Padraig couldn't bring himself to rush past and ignore it if he needed help, be it from a man or another Immortal. Had it been an ordinary man or woman, he'd have contended with the very same impulses. He didn't take time to think better of it. He placed a hand on the Immortal's shoulder in an attempt to identify what the trouble was. "Do you need help?" But he wouldn't leave him, and looked up from where he crouched himself for others nearby.

"Somebody find a healer, one of the Immortals!" He couldn't recall having seen any of them, since charging back into the hall. "Find Jesine!" Hadn't she been there after all, traveling back and forth through the portal to assist others in crossing? In the meantime, perhaps the Immortal would speak to him and put his mind at ease. If he didn't, and help didn't arrive soon, he'd find a way to get him to a healer himself.

► Show Spoiler

Off Topic

A little awkward there. Didn't want to assume anything.

[Yanahalqah]

Stepping into the light, the cold was the first thing that bothered the Yludih. She wasn't dressed for this. Her padded tunic that branded her a squire did its best to keep her warm, but it wasn't a fur-coat or woolen cloak. The icy wind bit right through, sapping her warmth. She could almost feel it dissipating, her asterism working harder to keep her temperature optimal. Battle might warm her up, yes, but running would too. Or actually donning a cloak. As she had neither, and she wasn't willing to plunge into the field of war just to scavenge some warmer clothes from the fallen, she instead opted for a swig of alcohol, feeling the warmth briefly spread through her body. Damn, I'll need liters just to sustain myself in these clothes in this environment.

She trembled, even nutrition could not keep the cold at bay. There was no choice. Warriors brought by the “good” Immortals ran past her at all sides, some having dressed for the cold better than others. The Yludih should have done the same in the breaks of preparation. She could have raided a shop or a house or so. Well, it was too late for that now, so she settled for the next best thing.

As the last member of the most recent group dashed past, the false-Eídisi stuck out a leg, tripping the man. He fell face-first in the snow, cursing. Yana easily tore the cloak off of his shoulders, not caring about the color at all. It was furry and looked warm. That was all that mattered.
“What do you think you are doing?!” he yelled, turning and getting back to his feet.
She didn't respond, instead draping and fastening the cloak around her shoulders, already feeling the difference in temperature. This would do. “Give me your socks and gloves too,” she demanded, feeling her fingers and toes freeze.
“I don't think so!” he reached for his blade, hand closing around the hilt. He was slow, he struggled to draw it from his sheath. Another novice to serve as fodder for the enemy armies. He dropped like a bag of potatoes, coloring the snow red while he gurgled, crimson welling up in his mouth.

Yana wiped her dagger clean with his tunic before sheathing the weapon. Her eye stared at the slit throat, then higher, at those accusing eyes. “Do not hold it against me,” she spoke, “you would have died either way. Consider it to be mercy from my part. Mercy for the foolish.” She stripped him of the items she wanted and donned them herself. Warmer and more confortable, but what now? Where would she run to? Where would she await the conclusion of the battle?

She kicked snow on the corpse while she thought, her eye roaming the snowy fields. A man skewered an Immortal with a blade. Even from her position she could recognize him. Doran. The irony of the situation popped into her mind. It seemed like a long time ago they discussed the methods needed to see this mission successful. Now the two of them seemed to have abandoned it, even switching sides depending on how the others viewed them. Traitors. Yana hurried to his side. Two were stronger than one, and if it was Doran she didn't mind teaming up with him. Perhaps he had a plan. She would follow him, the Yludih decided. The bearded man would not have killed an Immortal out of emotion, and certainly not without having some sort of escape plan at the ready. He was her best bet.

► Show Spoiler

Will be joining Team Doran.

[Lei'lira]

Cold. It was cold. Lei'lira shivered as she gazed out at an endless sea of white. Her eyes widened, as she tried to comprehend it. How did people live here? This was worse than any Cylus she had ever endured. How many of these people were going to freeze to death before they ever had the chance to fight?

They said to choose. Help the healers, defend the gates, or fight the army that stood between them, and whatever treasure lay in the tomb of Treid that the immortals had decided would help against the shadow beasts. It was no choice, really. She was no fighter. Her limited knowledge of medicine focused around the healing of animals, but she figured that some of what she knew could be used to help people as well.

Lei'lira told Quio that she would go to help the healers as best she could. He, on the other hand seemed to prefer to join the fighters. She was about to head towards the shelter where the injured were gathered, but one of the men turned on Xiur, and stabbed him with a sword. Lei'lira cried out in alarm, horrified that someone could turn on an ally like that. The fact that the victim was an Immortal made it even worse. She might not follow any of the Immortals as some did, but that didn't mean that she didn't hold them in a great deal of awe, and respect. Attacking one...was inconceivable.

It only took Lei'lira a trill or two to recover from the shock of what she had just witnessed. The man who had attacked Xiur seemed to be trying to go back into the portal. A woman approached him, but didn't seem to be trying to stop him. Had she missed seeing what had just happened? Or...was she joining the traitor among them?

"Stop him!" she cried, pointing at the man who had tried to kill Xiur.

"He tried to kill Xiur!"

Lei'lira didn't need to get a closer look at the wound to know that she was completely out of her depth. Putting a bandage on a strained leg, or a poultice on a swollen insect bite on a horse did not qualify her to deal with a sword wound...and a serious one from what Lei'lira could see from where she was standing. So she ran towards the shelter that housed the wounded, calling for a healer. When one emerged from the shelter, Lei'lira told her what had happened in a frantic rush.

"Wait here."

The healer disappeared back into the shelter only to return a few trills later with a bag full of supplies. Lei'lira followed her back to Xiur, determined to do anything she could to help.

[Rita Fenyo]

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Rita

20 Vhalar 716

Somewhere cold and dark

As much as Rita had prepared for the journey it was way too cold for one of her kind. With a gasp of pain, she squirmed on the cold blanket of white. The immortals had some sort of order splitting people into three different groups, more people filtering in trying to flee from the danger that was behind them. Rita did not hesitate and began, rather awkwardly, slithering towards the healer's area. She did not help immediately, instead of finding a warm hearth to stop herself shivering. It was a while before she was warmed enough to work, a kindly healer bringing a blanket to wrap around her vulnerable tail. When she was ready Rita tied back her hair, noting that she should get it plated or cut, slithering into the first tent.
It wasn't very organised however in this tent laissez-faire was working fine with a triage system somewhat in effect with the healers taking who they could heal and saving lives first. Rita wasn't going to interfere but at the same time felt that in other tents this was probably costing. A warrior limped in assisted by their friend, full plate armour bashed and scratched with one leg plate ripped clean off and one of the divets in the chest had been stabbed through.

30

"I got this one, place them down and help me with their armour " slithering over to a spare bed, placing the warrior down and working off her armour. Checking the helmet for any damage as the friend stripped of her chest plate. "No damage to the head and no sign of a concussion. Leg wound needs a tourniquet but shouldn't be hard to fix. " The warrior was awake but had shallow breaths, the wound somewhere to the left of her breast. Cleaning the blood quickly, the blade had punctured her lung and there was blood in the chest cavity. This was far above what Rita was capable of.
"Hey I need a surgeon here" someone rushed over and Rita explained what she already knew. The surgeon went to work draining the blood and creating a whole to reinflate the lung. Rita was unable to follow the procedure to learn anything of it and instead began working on the leg. A simple gash not as bad as first thought. It felt good to have some good supplies given how strained things were in Andaris, garlic water to clean the wound, stitch the wound... Double stitch because of the position. Apply honey and oregano oil over the top, then healing paste and bandage. The surgeon was doing well so Rita moved on.
There was a commotion outside, someone calling for help. By chance Rita was the first to come to her, the woman she recognised from the trip, she was pale and frantic. Someone had stabbed an immortal, there were traitors in their group. She needed help desperately and now the fate of an immortal was Rita's responsibility.
"Wait here. " The ithecal dropped low slithering quickly, grabbing her supplies and extra. Throwing a cloak over the top and shrugging off any questions of the rush. "Just someone in a bad way from Ne'hear. They couldn't get here" She lied, understanding that a number of people worshipped these beings and to learn of one of them being harmed. The Ithecal moved quickly letting the woman lead paying little attention to the small details and the cold snow. The blood was hard to hide along with the two prone bodies, one poorly covered in snow the other the immortal.
"Who did this? Nevermind I need guards to protect us " a few people had gathered in shock, there was every possibility that the attackers were still here among the sea of faces. "Clear out, let me to the wounded"

Off Topic

Redacted

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Template made by Aelius for Rita

[Ti'niva]

Ti stepped out of the safety of the portal and into the freezing air. It immediately began to bite at his exposed skin, his clothes had not been made for a place like this. He rubbed his exposed forearms and looked around him noticing the two immortals who were shouting out orders and information. He gathered that there were 3 choices, attack, defend or heal. Ti'niva had little to no skills in healing and he really did not feel he would be comfortable standing and guarding the walls. Therefore he chose his 3rd option he would try to push back the invaders and make his way to Treid's tomb. First things first Ti needed weapons and clothes he was stood in the freezing cold with no shoes and only a deer hide tunic. He began looking around for equipment around the camp most was in use some laid around, however, he worried that they may be someone around the camps. As he searched an idea came into his mind, the dead, outside of the gates and across the frozen battlefield bodies were strewn everywhere. Ti'niva knew their weapons most likely would be usable and they may have some warmer clothes for him. He set out of the camp in search of what he needed a slight feeling of dread crawling over him.

He left the gates and walked quickly across the barren frozen landscape his feet feeling the cold and stinging with every step. He had never had need to wear shoes before, but for the first time he felt like if he didn't wear them his feet would drop off. He scanned the bodies as he walked a repulsive feeling towards himself as he thought about what he was about to do. In front of him lay a mans body clothed and with weapons. Blood soaked the ground behind his back and head where he had bled out in the snow. Ti stood over him and examined the body his clothes were much thicker and warmer than his own and his weapons seemed to be in good condition. Ti's eyes fixed on the long bow by the mans side and the quiver of arrows on his back. He needed them if he were to help in the fight which raged very close, he knew he needed to be quick.

Ti knelt by the man and quickly removed his large coat it appeared to be made from some sort of fabric Ti was not used too yet it was warm and was much needed by Ti who had begun to shiver. He pulled the coat over himself and fastened it comfortably any cozily leaving himself space to move. he then lifted the mans body in order to remove the quiver from his back as his hands pressed into the mans blood soaked shirt and wounds Ti gagged. He had only ever held one dead man before and that had been his father. Memories of that fateful night came rushing back to him as he remembered being soaked in the blood of his father and trainer. He shook his head violently bringing his attention back to the present. There was a vile taste in his mouth as he removed the quiver of arrows and slung it over his back. He grimaced as he placed the man back to the ground. A sword was also sheathed in the mans belt. Ti had never used a sword before yet he could tell it may be useful in his current situation so he slid it behind his own belt and then took the mans boots securing them around his freezing feet. Finally he took up the bow and weighed it and balanced it in his hands. He wished he had his own bow but this one would suffice. He began to head towards the sound of the fight, he could see giants fighting nearby alongside men and women of different races against an army of Nearik warrior women and shadow beasts.
Ti'niva soon reached the battle and drew an arrow knocking it in his bow to be ready to fire. Everywhere around him was filled with beings fighting and killing one another. His ears were filled with the sound of clashing blades and screams of pain, rage and excitement. This combination of sound was like nothing he had heard before it was both terrifying and beautiful. He stopped about 15 meters from one of the giants who was fighting with two Naerik warriors. He watched them closely as he drew his bow. He had never shot at a person before, but really he couldn't see how different to shooting a deer it could be. He held the bow fully drawn and lined up his shot aiming for one of the warriors. He gripped the bow tightly, his knuckles turning white, as he stared down the arrow towards the woman. He sent the command to his hand to loose, he could feel his fingers tremble as he attempted to free the string yet he couldn't. He was hesitating and he couldn't understand why. He closed his eyes and then opened them again aiming towards the woman. He again sent the command to his hand to loose the arrow. This time he succeeded the arrow flew through the air towards the woman spiraling towards her abdomen. Ti'niva watched the arrow as it struck its target while her sword was raised high above her head, she crumpled and fell back onto the floor as the arrow burrowed its way into her stomach. He drew his second arrow not thinking and aimed up the next shot. He loosed it watching it hurtle towards the other woman this one struck her in the neck and she fell back grasping at the bleeding wound. Ti gulped as he lowered his bow his hands trembling, a lump was in his throat as he understood now what it felt like to kill another human being.

He had made his way over and he stood above the dead woman with the arrow in her stomach. He watched the blood pooling and staining the snow it deathly beautiful how it spread like wild fire in a forest. He couldn't help but feel sick as he looked at the dead woman who's life he had taken. He then looked over to the other woman as the vile taste returned to his mouth. She was not yet dead he could hear the gurgling sound coming from her as she lay dying the blood blocking her windpipe. Ti couldn't hold it back anymore as tears ran down his face, all this loss of life and some of which he had now caused. He just had to believe it was for the good of all mortal kind. And so he pushed on bringing his attention back to the fight and pushing further towards the front line he needed to keep moving heading for the tomb there was no time to waste. They needed to make there way there and Ti could not dwell over every person he killed so he continued to make his way forward, jogging. He headed in the direction of the front trying not to get caught up, he fired arrows as he went, shooting on the run was a new skill and he was impressed how well he took to it. He was trying to hide from the idea of killing, attempting to distance himself from the pain and death he was causing. He new here that speed would be important to make progress and not necessarily accuracy and killing every enemy there was. Whatever was inside that tomb must be important and that was Ti's goal.
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[Zenith]

On the Fields of Oscillus

Qylios had been standing watch at the portal with Xiur, while those from Ne'haer were ferried through Emea to this point. As each group came through she let the situation be known to all, allowing them to choose where they would help the efforts here in Oscillus. Most choose to help at the front lines, while others choose to help in the make shift camp with the healers, and a few others offered their services to helping defend the camp from any kind of counter attack.

As more and more poured out of the portal and into the field, Qylios' spirits began to rise. That was until she heard the drawing a steel behind her and the sharp gasp of pain from Xiur. Qylios' eyes were wide as she turned and watched one of the mortals that had come through the portal pull his sword out of Xiur's back. "NO!" She screamed, her voice coming out as a shrill scream as she did. Before she could cover the distance between them the man was moving, and in the direction of the portal.

"Coward" Qylios said through gritted teeth, as she threw her hand in the direction of the portal. A trill later a brilliant sphere of golden light sprang into existence in front of the portal. Half as tall as a fully grown human male the sphere sat a few feet off the ground, and there it sat for a handful of trills. Then just as fast as it had sprung to life the light exploded outward in a flash. Striking the man, and any with him, and throwing them clear of the portal.

Not soon after the orbs detonation though Qylios lost track of Xiur's attacker and those who had joined him. Cursing the foul turn of luck, she tasked some of her Blessed to guard the portal until Jesine came through and closed it. After that she was at Xiur's side.

Little more than a bit had passed since the attack, but already a healer had been brought to him and was looking at the wound. Qylios' heart leaped into her throat at the sight of the wound in her brother's side. Then anger mixed with her grief and the warm yellow light that seemed to stick to the woman became golden and seemed to move like fire. "I will keep your hope alive Xiur, so I need you to stay strong."

Reaching out her right hand, light began to collect in her palm until another orb had formed there, this one little bigger than an orange. Standing, she closed her hand on the orb. As she did the light took on a new shape, becoming long and thin, at first and then expanding at one end.

After a handful of trills Qylios stood holding a battle standard that held the rings and crown that were her symbol upon it. Moving to the center of the camp the Immoral of Light drove the standard into the ground with a fierce cry, and as it broke through the soil its power flowed out through the battle field and into her allies.

Standard Effects

Those allied with Qylios and the good Immortals gain the following boons:

Bound in Battle:

• Their tactics and movements flow almost seamlessly with little-to-no spoken communication. The Standard allow them to fight together more effectively, sharing things like openings and other knowledge without speaking. Does not allow for telepathy.

Bound Tongues:

• The Standard allows for allows to speak with one another as though they were speaking the others native tongue.

[Tristan Venora]

Tristan exited the portal after his slave and stepped into a frozen land. He immediately wrapped his arms around his body and shuddered. He was not a fan of the cold. He preferred warmth and sunny trials where he could walk around with short sleeves and barefoot, sit on the beach and enjoy a glass of fine wine. This here was just terrible. The leather armor he had been given on the ship was probably the only thing that kept him from freezing to death, but it was far from comfortable. It also didn’t cover his head. His head felt like a big ball of ice, and his breath formed small clouds of mist in front of his face.

He rubbed his hands together in order to create a bit of additional warmth, drew his blade and took a look around. He didn’t think that he would be of much use as either an attacker or a defender – he occasionally overestimated himself, but never that much. He knew that he was not a good fighter. He had just been about to decide to help the injured – maybe he could entertain them with a few stories and thus distract them from their pain – when he realized that Faith was already making her way towards the tomb. So he decided to follow her. Even if being anywhere near the tomb carried a high risk of death, he couldn’t leave his slave alone!

She needed him!

Unfortunately though the young noble was so focused on the woman he had decided to protect that he didn’t pay attention to what was directly in front of him. He stumbled over a dead body that was lying on the ground and fell. The last thoughts that he thought before he lost consciousness were, I guess I’ll be going to the hospital after all! and Maybe my nose is broken again and I won’t have to actually exercise in order to look tough!

► Show Spoiler

OOC: I’ve decided to write Tristan out of the thread, for obvious reasons. If one of you doctors wants an actual PC patient, feel free to take care of an unconscious Lord Venora.

[Nauta F'mos Geey]

Because he had been among the early arrivals through the portal, Nauta was able to see how much of a mess it was. He had left Ne'haer with all the hostile shadows and Aukari, only to face the forces of shadowy women and even more shadows. The giants would have already had him reconsider his decision to come to Oscillus, if Nauta had not spotted them alongside the Ellune. It was fortunate Etzos had decided to honor one of the Ellune during the Procession of Recognition, or Nauta would not have been able to recognize them at all. He should have decided to brave instead the forces of Faldrun in Ne'haer for a much more normal battle.

Even with the giants on their side Nauta was not prepared to find a section, especially with the safe job beyond his own expertise. He would rather save his strength and vitality for a cause which deserved it, his own. He wandered the camp, astray, until he overheard the conversations around him. "That was her?" he thought to himself, as he tried to make the connection between the blond haired woman at the portal and the web haired man he met. Though he was unable to do so he headed back to the portal and remained there, with the excuse he wanted to help his comrades out the portal and to brief them on the situation so they may quickly join the fight.

As far as Nauta knew the woman may not even be Jesine, but there were benefits if he stuck close to the portal. The sly Aukari would be close to the getaway if the battle went south, even if he did not have a chance to speak to the Immortal. As time passed Nauta realized there was one benefit in his visit to Oscillus. He felt no discomfort eventhough he spent so much time stationed near the portal where he carried comrades out, because the cold weather helped manage his own Aukari body heat. If Triedhart made it through this, the city would be a choice if he ever needed to leave Etzos. He would no longer have to fear the heat, or rely on Frostbite to get him through the ever present worry of suddenly erupting.

Nauta easily accustomed himself to his routine as it was so similar to his days as a guard. He may not be able to protect anyone but he was still able to get those fresh from the portal orientated with their new situation, like the visitors to Sirothelle which thought of him as some guide. From where he had stationed himself he would grab hold of another newcomer to help them along the snow in case they slipped, the scene of shadows, giants, Ellunes and women explained so they would know who was the enemy and how they could contribute. With the newcomers sure of the situation, he would let them go to join the rest, recover from the bastard Faldrun's attack or to follow the orders of Qylios as they wished.

While he may have felt some pride with his contributions to the cause, Nauta still could not forget his true intentions which had him stationed near the portal. Through the monotony of it all, he would wonder when Jesine would finish her task as the ferry of those from Ne'haer. The Aukari did not envy her role as he disliked it enough back when he was a guard, to deal with the unappreciative visitors which never knew where they were supposed to go in Sirothelle. It was shameful that he could not help but to find some fault in her delay, when it was him which wanted to chat about her role in this expedition.

To keep himself from anymore unseemly thoughts, Nauta kept his focus on his routine. Those which appreciated his efforts made it all better for him but, there were also those which were completely unlikable when they snubbed his assistance. "Bastard" was the word which came to mind about the most recent of the latter, so keen for battle that he wasted no time to have his weapon drawn. The Aukari could only hope that the man would meet his end in the battle to come. That would serve him right for the rejection of the friendly hand he had offered.

His focus ended up on the next person to leave the portal, to help him out, but ever so often Nauta took a glimpse behind him. Like much of the Etzori back home, he wanted to see the man make the decision which would get him killed and prayed that he would "choose the front, choose the front! However Nauta would not have been expected that to have happened. He could have tried to stop the man which would have been too late in any event, he could have tried to rush to Xiur's aid although he knew he would have been unable to do anything or he would have been with the medics, he could have tried to do...something...

Something which would be beyond any of what the fools so enamoured by the Immortals would do. Just as it had been in the meet, Nauta was on the lookout for his opportunity and as he spotted the assassin in his attempt to head back to the portal, he knew he had found it. They had written out Faldrun as a threat at the meet as they had been unable to see it, but after he had attacked Ne'haer and this public attempt on the masses' beloved Immortal of Hope? No one would be able to ignore the threat Faldrun was anymore. Nauta himself was not in Oscillus to be a hero, why would be even try to stop this?

He pulled the person he was with to his chest and had his hands wrapped around him before he had the both of them drop off the side. They both rolled in the snow, Nauta doing his best to seem like some sort of a protector as he used his body to protect the man. He heard the screams of Qylios and saw the flashes of light as he rolled out and hoped the assassin would have a clear path to get away. The damage had already been done after all, so there would be no harm if he assisted the assassin escape. It would be a lot more easier for him to spin the story it had been one of Faldrun's Aukari assassins if no one could verify the assassin's identity.

When he finally recovered, the person with him helped up and checked for injuries, Nauta would yell about the "Assassin! Assassin! It was one of Faldruns! I'm sure of it!" to whoever would listen to him, along with how they needed to focus on the threat he had proven to be. They needed bodies to guard the portal and the other Immortals in case Xiur was not the only target. He would also have no reservations when he told anyone interested what they would need to know to locate the assassin, the Aukari assassin which shared a lot of similarities an old, hated superior which of course included, the infamous red hair. However Nauta himself would not join the search. Not when Jesine had yet to have left the portal.

► Show Spoiler

Not on team Doran, but here to cause some confusion. Its for a good cause guys, we need to fight back against that tyrant Faldrun!

[Noth]

The twilight hybrid found himself thrust out of the realm of fire, and into one of ice. Cold wind immediately lashed against his skin, becoming just as much of a deterrent as any hostile foe. Both could technically kill someone, though ice tended to take much longer than fire at accomplishing that particular task, and for that, Noth was at least somewhat grateful. He had escaped away from his antagonists, and from the zealots of Faldrun, the fiery godling looming somewhere behind him.

He was immediately spoken to by a bystander, passing on the message that they had received prior to Xiur’s injury. Noth’s crimson eyes fell upon the wounded lord of the stars, and his feathery appearance hid the gentlest grin that stretched across his cheeks, he returned his attention to the bystander, prepared to listen to her instructions. She offered three choices; to heal those who had been wounded in battle, to defend the walls of the city, or to rush headfirst into the bloody mess of battle. The hybrid’s mind worked quickly, immediately eliminating the idea of performing any kind of medical operation. The most medicine that he had ever practiced was chopping dead creatures into pieces, and observing where their vitals were amidst the chunks of raw flesh and viscera.

That left him the options of either defending the city walls, or of engaging his foes in battle. He moved forward, simply nodding to the Immortals as he got out of the way of any others retreating through the portal, contemplating what he might do for a couple of trills before coming to a conclusion. The city was walled, and though his bow would be useful upon a castellation, he felt as though he would be more useful in the fray. He was a crippled bird, and his wings would not lend him nearly the defensive ability that could be wrought from the talents of his pureblooded antagonists. It seemed incredibly likely that they would defend the city, allowing their feathered appendages to provide them a tactical superiority that other races simply lacked.

Meanwhile, they had come to plunge themselves into a tomb. He could not quite lay eyes upon it, and wasn’t even sure of what it would appear to be, but the very concept of a ‘tomb’ seemed to indicate that it would be located in a subterranean passage or chamber. Noth had lived his past several seasons under the cover of a natural cave system, and had acclimated himself well to navigating the dimly lit passages. He would be useful in that regard should they need to delve into the depths, and whilst it wasn’t a certain possibility, it was one that he kept in mind as he ran to the waiting lines of battle.

It wasn’t until he began his charge forward that he took notice of the savage giants that battered away at shadowy monstrosities and at tribal warrior women. General placement of the giants, and the reactions of Etzori and allied forces seemed to indicate that they were there to provide assistance as opposed to resistance. Whilst Noth recognized that there was some truth to the idea of skill being greater than natural ability, he was instantly grateful that the towering beings had come to their aid, especially since the alternative would have likely spelled a far quicker end for his compatriots and himself.

He wasn’t entirely familiar with every custom of every people, but the brightly colored hair and the general demeanor of the warrior women seemed to identify them as Naerikk. He didn’t want to jump immediately to that conclusion, but the general exclusion of male warriors in their line certainly helped to enforce his hypothesis. The ground was wet with snow and ice and blood, the coverings layering over one another as combatants were struck down by their martial opponents.

He saw a pack of shadowy beasts, sprinting along the line, keeping closer to the ground than their allies and hacking away at exposed legs and knees with surprising efficiency. They hacked a giant’s legs out from under them, jamming their solidified appendages through their ribcage with remarkable speed. Crimson eyes gazed upon their acts, suddenly knowing exactly what ought to be done about these monstrous trespassers.

The mace found itself clutched within his hand, the cold gradually cooling the handle, though not enough to make gripping the weapon uncomfortable. When last he had found the shadows, they had not been damaged easily by such conventional weapons, but he had observed some individuals striking against them with similar weapons to some effect, and so he had determined to attempt to the same. His feet carried him with haste towards the four enemies, trampling over blood and corpses as he neared the monsters, a predator drawn to his prey.

He was a shadow hunting shadows, the twilight of his feathers blending in well with their natural physiology and blending into a torrent of swinging weapons and appendages. If he hadn’t caught them by surprise, and quickly dispatched one of their number, he might not have succeeded in his ambush. The remaining three placed themselves before him, animals looking upon their hunter.

“Come.”

The battle continued.

[Jachiel]

The first thing that Jachiel noticed when he emerged from the darkness of the portal was an intense cold knifing through clothes. The second was the brightness of the ice and snow. The immortals and the choice - yet another choice - they demanded was a slower third. He moved clear of the exit and looked sharply round to get his bearings. The guard was fighting a pitched battle and he'd be a heroic fool to throw himself into that kind of battle when he had neither shield nor armour to protect him. Charging off towards the tomb without protection would be even more foolish, even if he did have weapons to fight with. That left only one option, and he didn't know much about healing either. He knew enough to roughly assess his own state of woundedness - when to rough-bandage and keep going, when to rough-bandage and go find an expert, and when to just ignore the smaller cuts and bruises that were inevitable - but that was all.

He turned toward the hospital, moving with due care for the icy footing, and ducked inside to warmer air and chaos. He swore and shivered, and took in the rows of patients and scant help. One of the nurses looked at his limply hanging arm, grabbed him and asked shortly, "Injured?"

He replied just as shortly, "Old scars. Here to help, not for treatment." The nurse nodded and sent him for water. He took a bucket outside, packed it with clean snow and brought it in to melt, then repeated the process with a second bucket, and a third. With those lined up, he turned to the unprocessed wounded. He stripped armour and clothes away from wounds as directed, held and cut bandages, and used his strength to lift and shift patients to allow more skilled doctors access to injuries. A clamour ran out, closer than the guards at the gate and he eased his gladii to where he could get at them better if the hospital became a last stand. Otherwise, he put his head down and kept working.