• Graded • The Fiend Unleashed

[Ellen'wyn]

The brick broke in half on impact and immediately the beast's snout twisted her way. His eyes narrowed, but his lips twisted into a wicked toothy grin and he lurched away from the soldier, maw open slightly, clearly intent on Ellen now.

Shit, shit, shit, shit!

The half-breed scrambled backwards, slipping on bits of loose rubble, half-scooting on her rear and half-crab walking back toward her hiding spot. It was a useless effort though, and the creature was on her in an instant. He pinned her flat, bracing her under one his wide paws, with her broken arm crushed between the two of them.

Ellen wailed and struggled, but it only made the pain worse. He watched almost like he was amused--a cat playing with its food. The redhead grew still, tears dripping down the side of her face, with her teeth gritted so hard against the pain she thought they might shatter.

"Pathetic little creature, so weak and now broken," the beast said, mouth hovering just a few inches above her.

The woman tried to crane her face away, but it was useless. The breath that belched from his mouth was horrid. He pressed his snout into her hair, drawing in the scent of her, snuffling loudly, dragging out his victory. She whimpered unconsciously and he drew back with a smile. Ellen struggled weakly again, legs fidgeting and writhing for purchase.

The Sessfiend simply pressed down a little harder on her chest and the breath wheezed out of her loudly. He held her like that for a long moment, lungs burning, face turning blue while she fumbled with the pouch at her waist with her good arm. He finally relaxed his weight and let her take in a desperate breath after the edges of her vision started to darken. She coughed violently and a low laugh rumbled in his giant chest.

"Die now knowing he could not be saved." It seemed he was ready to end the game.

His mouth opened, tongue lolling, and he reared his head back like a snake about to strike.

"STICK THE RING INSIDE THE SWORD WOUND!! IT WILL SEAL IT INSIDE WHEN IT HEALS!! IT'S THE ONLY WAY!"

The beast faltered and sneered, obviously annoyed. Ellen's hand was already in the pouch. Her fingers closed around the ring. It was the only chance she had, but it was all she needed.

"Fuck you!" she screamed, and as the beast looked back at her his glare quickly shifted from anger to disbelief.

She drove her hand into the open wound, pushing the ring as deep as it would go. Her fingers came away hot and black as tar, but whole. That was all that mattered. The creature screeched then, a deafening sound, and his voice was full of rage and pain.

[Patrick]

The pathetic soldier that struggled to fight him had learned quickly of the Manticore's weaknesses, the reflection in the mirror not only a frightening reminder of the monster; but a literal bane that could severely wound and injure it. Thus far however the fighting proved difficult on both accounts as the commander beneath the monster fought bravely, if barely making it through alive barely in tact that is. Just as the Fiend's prowess in slaying the mortal champion nearly came to fruition, the solid if not broken piece of mortar soared into a crash on the lion's head. With a meager crack and crumble the hit proved pretty much ineffective, save for drawing the Fiend's own ire towards it's intended victim. Ellen'wyn. It seemed she felt eager to antagonize the monster further, which would've only worsened her situation afterwards if the damnable man beneath the monster's paw.... wasn't so close to tasting death.

Yet... Anger and rage were all driven towards Ellen, and while he would've reveled killing her last; this man was nothing more than an insect crossing the path. He was wretched and weak now, hardly any more a threat now that he'd been injured several times. No... Now the fiend wanted to enjoy it's true prize, the death of someone so dear to the man now housed within the monster. Thus he lunged and drew in close to decimate the cover Ellen hid behind, his massive body a sheer force of power that sent more debris flying all over. She was his now. Trapped beneath him like the prey she was doomed to be.

"Pathetic little creature, so weak and now broken," The Manticore bared the fangs of his maw almost in the form of a sneer, the sweet and delectable scent of his quarry inhaled sharply through the nostrils. She struggled but it was all oh so in vain, the helpless little bird now trapped under his incredible claw.

He teased and tortured her as though she were a toy now, as a cat would with it's dinner once it had caught the mouse. "Die now knowing he could not be saved." The Sessfiend tormented as he clearly enjoyed the hopelessness of Ellen's situation, in which she still more than likely feared for Patrick's own behalf. His maw opening wider so that the wet and slimy tongue slowly forked out, determined to savor just one more taste of his hard earned meal. Yet just as he readied himself to enjoy the feast that was to come, the voice of the commander beckoned loudly towards the girl. The ring? What foolishness! The grin on his malicious face diminished as silver eyes moved to look past the Fiend, while the two tails debated lashing out and silencing the soldier. A shame however knowing he was out of range, but by now the Fiend's sight had almost returned; and once he looked down back to Ellen'wyn... she had the ring.

Angry annoyance quickly turned into utter disbelief alright, for the moment he eased the muscles in his leg came; was the very moment Ellen needed to end it. The wound that regenerated more slower had finally closed just after Ellen pulled her blackened hand out, and left within it's healed space the ring that belonged to Patrick. Initially before the ring had been embedded a soft amber yellow glowed from the text, but the moment it resided in the arm of the fiend; it turned a brilliant red deep within. Baffled by what had transpired the Fiend reeled back a couple paces, immediately pained by something that seemed to ache within it's forearm; presumably where Ellen had transplanted the ring so cleverly. "NO! NOT THIS!! NOT-" Silver eyes were forced to shut tight as his entire form writhed and convulsed, the muscles all caught in endless spasms as even the tails writhed in pain. Within the arm where the ring was planted, a vivid and powerful light gleamed from within the darkened flesh.

The Fiend's eyes opened slowly as they were no longer silver but golden, focused on the sky above as it let out a pained and dissatisfied roar! The light within it's forearm started to spread and span throughout it's body and back, and eventually all throughout it's entire form as it continued it's cry of anguish. Then in one single instant a pressure surged as the Fiend's entire body became enshrouded, tethers of light tangibly wrapping and snaring at the creatures form as he struggled to resist. The Manticore bucked and writhed with his maw opened, attempting to try and bite at the part of his arm; where the ring was embedded to be exact. Only it was too late. The artifact's power started to dissolve it's form into a decaying ash, the Fiend looking toward Ellen'wyn in it's sudden defeat. No... He still had the chance! With his other limb raised to high he intended to rake at the woman, only to cringe as more of the tethers poured and tore from within it's chest.

The Manticore's eyes widened in pure awe, his claw lowered to hold himself upright as he roared once more. This time it wasn't just a roar... Both Ellen and the commander would hear a man's roaring cry with it, as the beat's entire form dissipated with one radiant burst that surged from it's core. A shock wave blasted much of the debris and smoke away, killing much of the flames that surrounded the area the three were in. However smoke and dust created a heavy smokescreen, one that took a bit to finally clear up after the blast surged from the Manticore. In the place where he stood big and strong just a few Trills ago was nothing, just vacant space as though he were just a ghost or memory; while upon the ground where his form once stood... was the form of a man without a shred of clothing. He laid face down on the cold ground breathing and shaking heavily, eyes tightly shut as he shivered helplessly now.

Within the confines of his forearm glowed a faint yellow orange beneath the skin, where the band Ymiden gave him rested now that his form reverted to normal. Parts of his body were reddened deeply as though he had suffered the same injuries as the Manticore, thus far the Rharnian demonstrated little coherency in what had just happened.

[Maltruism]

Norris stared in a mix of loathing and profound relief. The creature shrieked in something like terror, and seizures began to interrupt its writhing with jerky twitches as it rolled around as if it was in flames.

An odd light flared within its flesh briefly before it flared into a cocoon that fluctuated in depth and intensity to engulf the creature as it spasmed and howled. The voice changed as well, developing eerily human tones as it bucked and thrashed in what looked like a futile attempt to escape the light.

Norris struggled to his feet, warning the winged girl away from the creature's throes. They were taking on a dangerously intense look. Norris had fought aukari in his early military career, and had seen them explosively immolate themselves in suicidal determination to take their foes with them. This had all the earmarks of such an end. He'd already come to the conclusion that this was some sort of Immortal affliction, and Faldrun fit the bill perfectly.

Of course, he was wrong about the 'who', but not about the 'what'. Seeming to forget his wounds in his desperation, he surged past the pulsating light-enshrouded figure to take the girl down off her feet as the creature burst its shape in a wave of force that cleared the area around them for dozens of yards.

Norris didn't know if the smoke was from extinguished flames or an element of the blast itself. But when it too cleared, the naked figure of a man was all the remained within the radius of scorched earth. Many of his wounds were consistent with blows Norris had seen inflicted, but still the commander could hardly believe what his eyes told him. It was really only the glow within his arm that convinced Norris that this man was the beast.

An intense scowl drew hatred across his face as he recalled all the men that had died at the whims of this...man. His sword was in his hand and poised to drive through the prone form without his even realizing it, as he stepped up, his intent clear. It was only the voice of the girl that brought the world back to the normal tones of color, and out of the screen of red that had dominated all in his view.

He did not actually hear what it was the girl had said, the hum of pure killing hate had drowned it all in a drone of blood pressure in his inner ear. As it waned, he staggered slightly, his balance needing to recalibrate from the pulse of murderous intent that had been the apex of his soul just moments before.

He turned in disbelief towards the girl, knowing that whatever it was she had said, it had to encompass some sort of plea for mercy for..."Patrick"; the name now returned to his memory. Something about having a name to connect to the unconscious body impacted his emotional state, decreasing the anger. This was a man, a mortal, twisted by the Immortals into a monster.

Confusion warred with the desperate need to avenge his fallen men. But would killing this man truly bring justice to those who were really guilty for the carnage here? Again the voice of the woman cut through his dazed mind. He took a wobbly step back, dropping his sword on the ground and looked up at her. Without her sleek, feminine features and her long, sooty, bloody hair, she could be wearing his own face.

Words passed through his mind in her voice, only half registering. 'It wasn't him, it was one of the Immortals. He was a victim too. He'd been unconscious when someone had removed the ring. She hadn't realized the significance of it either at the time. Maybe he should have warned the doctors, but who would risk having people know such a thing about you, and what reason would they have to remove it anyway. The doctors had hurried her out before she'd realized what was going on.'

It seemed like the ideas were forming in his head of their own accord. He could see plainly how much she cared about him. They must have some sort of relationship. Yet the creature had clearly be bent on tormenting her more than anyone. It was just the sort of thing these sick Immortal sadists would scheme to cause. Were the policies of Etzos ever more clearly proven true than by atrocities such as this?

It was almost as if he felt the same sort of pressure build within himself that he'd seen burst from the form of the beast. He turned his face toward the sky and screamed in hate and anguish, an incoherent burst of accusation and defiance. His own voice echoed deafeningly in his ears, as his voice scratched to an end.

The girl's voice, one last time, brought him from his bitter reverie. "what do we do?' Is that what she asked?' He looked at her, another victim of this cruel joke. She would be known to have come to town with this 'Patrick'. If he was discovered to be the beast, the townsfolk would come after her with the same murderous intent he'd felt himself yielding to only moments earlier; and he'd had the means of realizing his error. They would tear her to pieces.

"No! We need to drag him out of sight. They'll blame you too if they recognize him." He looked around, his mind suddenly focused, now that he had an innocent to protect. a half fallen house caught his eye. One that had had its flames extinguished by the beast's dispersal.

"In there, you've got to get some clothes on him. His wounds can easily be attributed to the collapse. Don't admit his...condition. I will say there was a second blast, the one where he morphed back. I'll tell them it was the monster dying, leaving nothing behind. They'll believe it, Anything connected to the fucking Immortals will be believed."

[Ellen'wyn]

The beast pulled away from her, screaming in furious agony. He writhed and spasmed, slowly becoming enveloped in a cocoon of light originating from his arm. There seemed to still be some fight in him, as he raised a paw for one brief moment, poised to strike, but the light pulsed and he faltered, falling away from her. Ellen slowly drug herself backward, climbing to her knees, clutching her arm to her chest.

She was transfixed by the swirling light, his twitching form, and the pained screams. Like an accident you can't look away from--but out of nowhere the soldier appeared. The half-breed was surprised he was still alive, really. Blood soaked his leg so thoroughly that his trousers looked black. Yet he ran towards her, tackling her to the ground as the ring's light reached some sort of crescendo and exploded outward.

They crashed to the cobbles as the blast cleared dust and flames in a wide perimeter, leaving the surrounding wreckage a smoldering and smoking mess. Ellen yelled in pain, struggling under him, pinned uncomfortable against a pile of bricks. His weight left her quickly though, and she propped herself up, chest heaving, head swimming. She blinked the dust, ash, and sweat from her eyes, searching for the beast.

It was gone, she saw, and her heart stuttered. Patrick lay prone in the dirt, bruised and battered with a naked ass to the air, but appearing whole.

"Patr--Wait! No!"

The soldier hovered above him, drawing his sword, holding it over vulnerable flesh.

"Stop! Please!"

Ellen's voice wasn't much more than a croak. She drug herself closer, hurried on her knees and one hand until she could throw herself across Patrick's exposed back. The soldier seemed to come to some sort of conclusion. He hesitated, looking at them with some mixture of anger, confusion, and shame. He'd banished the idea, and his resolve crumbled. He backed away, releasing some of his frustrations on the sky, but all she could feel was relief.

The woman licked her bloody lips and looked down at Patrick, carefully brushing some dirt off his face. She had to get him out of here. Ellen glanced around at the empty plaza, then back at the soldier. He was deep in thought, but she only hesitated briefly. Her eyes were pleading--desperate.

"Now what do we do?"

At least he was thinking on his feet. Ellen looked toward the ruined building he motioned to. She nodded, but hesitated again.

"Alright, but... I need your help moving him," she admitted as she struggling slowly to her feet. With one arm surely broken, a wing out of place, and what felt like cracked ribs--on top of Immortals knew how many bruises, cuts, and like, she wasn't dragging him far by herself. If at all. But still she would try. Ellen grabbed one his arms and managed to at least roll him onto his back. She made it a point not to look anything below the waist though, and felt her ears burn despite herself.

With his help she could drag him to a safe, relatively cleared spot inside the fallen home. They were well hidden at the moment--he'd chosen well, and when she glanced around noticed some partially crushed bedroom furniture. A chest of drawers, bed, trunk. Surely some clothes would be inside one of those. Ellen turned back to the soldier and clasped his arm tightly.

"Thank you," she said, earnest and serious. "Truly. I owe you two lives."

[Patrick]

He trembled as all he could see was the darkness behind his eyelids, while memories of what transpired earlier faintly recurred. He could see it all in his mind even after he tried to reject it, the killings and the chaos that unfolded throughout the streets. The fire that ravaged the part of town he was in now, even the terrified face of the one hunted in his darkest of nightmares. They were all imprints in his mind, shadows of a event lingering in thought. He heard voices as his consciousness slowly returned to a capacity considerably operational, even then a lot of information came muddled into his mind for a time. Patrick heard... voices. Somebody was screaming in fury and scorn, and though the ground beneath him was freezing... he felt heat cover his upper back.

"Ellen..." His jaw didn't respond. Insofar he proved only capable of just thinking, as the rest of his faculties remained exhausted for now. He couldn't help the shivering though as both temperature and memory plagued him, even then his indecent exposure was only the least considerable issue for the moment. Patrick had just survived another transformation somehow, and though he hadn't any idea what exactly happened; he could only surmise the great deal of damage he'd done. "I'm sorry... I'm... So sorry..." Even his own mentality sounded exhausted as of right now, and while he still remained slightly incapacitated from his reversion; slowly he started to come around from his temporarily induced coma. When he felt the brushing of stone and dirt against the lower half of his backside, he managed to twitch toes and even feet a couple of times the more he waited.

He felt in such great need of sleep, in such deep desire for a place to lie down that was warm. He wanted many things at that point, one of them somehow a welcome thought for death. Perhaps it was because he didn't wish to wake up into the nightmare that awaited him, knowing that the moment he'd come to he'd have to fight some more... to struggle against both fiend and mortal to get out of there alive. But Patrick wasn't alone here. He had someone with him that needed him to fight, even if all he wanted to do was just lie down and give up. Thus after the numbness in his limbs faded, Patrick stirred to where he could roll over his side and push from the ruined floor. They'd brought him somewhere now. Someplace meant to temporarily provide shelter, did this mean they were actually safe from further danger with the rest of the world?

Patrick groaned as he managed to sit on his knees, his hands clasped around the sides of head in earnest. There was a great deal of pain still felt in his head, and areas of his body felt sore as though he'd been in a seriously rough brawl. When he finally opened his eyes to the hazy world before him, details slowly started to develop with several more blinks. Even then it felt as though where he was, and what he was, seemed all fuzzy to grasp within his mind. He looked from the ruined building out into the street and beyond, seeing only a portion of the destruction he'd wrought upon the city. "...My Gods." He uttered lowly in pure awe at the sight of it, his hands lowered now that his senses started to feel normal once more. But what he saw now... None of this was the work of anything normal. This was all him. All the work of his cursed being and the havoc it wreaked in the world.

All for what? He looked at his hands and arms still in complete disbelief, surprised to find the ring hadn't been placed on him... but in him somehow. The spot in his arm which now faintly glowed orange felt stiff, with a large dark bruise there as though he'd taken a serious beating. Patrick in all his Arcs had never been an easy one to bruise, therefore seeing such things like this only clarified the extent of what happened. He looked to the two next to him, and from there his eyes surely would've popped from his skull at what he discovered. Ellen and one of the local militia there with him, both looked barely able to stand alone after what they had faced. But if Ellen was still here then... Oh... Oh no... Patrick's face paled so intensely it became clear what red spots were actual bruises or injuries. He looked down back at his form, his now exposed human form, and realized that what he feared had actually came to pass.

Ellen had been hunted by his Sessfiend.

Quickly he rose with his back turned towards the two, arms wrapped together under his chest to hold what small heat he cold. Damn if it wasn't cold! He'd thought it was bad earlier with clothes, but being exposed like this felt even worse! "I've gotta get out of here." He told himself in silence as he looked among the ruins, fearful now of what the two had to think of his wretched misadventure. "I didn't... I..." He what? He didn't mean for any of this to happen? He wouldn't have turned if he could've prevented it? Surely excuses weren't going to change a damn thing now. He had made a very real mistake and let it happen without consideration towards everyone else, and now here he was left to accept everything that came with it. The responsibility, the guilt, the shame, as well as the burden of knowing who really was at fault here.

His glanced moved towards the ruined furniture and a couple of the pieces still barely intact, a hard swallow made as he quickly wobbled his way towards the containers. His feet and legs were freezing now, any longer than he might have well watched for when his balls dropped too. The first he found was a pair of trousers that were just a little too big for him to wear, and were an uncomfortable itchy quality with the ugliest shade of brown. He didn't care. They weren't his and they wouldn't be for much longer... Next came the white wool shirt with stains of mustard on it's collar, the long sleeves too were exquisitely uncomfortable when he slid them on. Overall it covered the important areas that needed covering, the only real portion that people would see 'injured' was his face more or less. He'd started to put on the boots he found in the footlocker, before he finally looked at the two without any inclination of knowing what to do next.

Should they flee now? Get out of here before the people came? Pat still had to recollect his and Ellen's stuff first hand, since he could see she wasn't exactly capable of carrying much at the moment. "We need to move..." He made clear with Ellen just before he looked towards Norris. "I know it's not worth much after everything... Just know that... I truly am sorry." Patrick admitted with his face fallen downward, his eyes closed shut as he quelled the rush of tears he felt coming to surface.

[Maltruism]

The stranger, this 'Patrick', was clearly coming around. Commander Norris could see the only evidence of a clearing mind that he could ever imagine a human accepting; the horror on the face of a man realizing what he'd done to a town of innocent people. Though it was undoubtedly a curse that had afflicted him. It just went to show what results to expect from dealing with the Immortals.

As far as Norris was concerned, even the so-called "good" ones brought their Immortal enemies down on the mortals that had contact with them. It was better to live a life away from them, all of them, as much as possible. This Patrick may be the nicest guy in all Idalos, but through some contact with some Immortal, he had ended up killing dozens of innocent men, women and children.

Norris himself was willing to place the blame on the Immortals. Looking at the man before him, struggling to come to terms with what he'd done, he could see that 'Patrick' was going to be placing this same blame differently. It was, Norris decided, the only worthy assessment of just punishment he could envision. How many lifetimes of guilt would atone for all the disrupted lives involved, dead or grieving? There was no equation he could conceive of to answer that question.

Still, his heart went out to him. For all he knew the Immortal, whichever one it had been, though probably Lisirra or Syroa, had overpowered his mortal mind and essentially forced him to do whatever had led to this end. And as he'd realized himself a short time ago, the townspeople would come after the woman with as much rabid hatred as this Patrick fellow. They needed to leave as soon as possible.

He reached over and patted the man on the shoulder. "I understand. You're sorry. I'm not going to tell you that you are completely blameless though. But if they discover you were the beast, they'll come after her as well. They know you came into town together."

He fought a hitch in his own throat as he continued, "Everyone that saw that it was you that turned into that thing is dead. So you and this fine woman can leave. I'll even tell them she found the secret weakness with your reflection. That much is even the truth. Lying about who you were will be easier if I can hide it behind the truth of her heroism."

He could see that his words were hurting the avriel girl. He dropped his gaze in regret for that, but felt that he needed to make the situation clear. "I don't know whether to hate you or pity you. I have no grand philosophical declaration to ease your burden. I can only promise you that I will kill you if I ever see you here again. It will be no small matter to tell the people that I had to; that I found out that you'd been infected with this...this disease...And had to put you down before you transformed again. I seriously doubt anyone here is going to say I was unjustified."

As he escorted the pair through the wreckage of the southern part of town, he gave his story to those that they came across. some were brave men, risking an encounter with the beast in an effort to determine if it was still about. Others were simply traumatized townsfolk, staggering in disbelief at the likely ruin of their futures, lacking the ability to process it yet. Norris was at least a little uplifted to see that his story of this pair of heroes having been instrumental in the slaying of the monster, brought hope once again into otherwise hollow eyes.

As he watched them depart through the oddly intact southern gate, he could not help but wonder what he would do had he been in Patrick's place. Did the curse create some innate inability to even consider killing yourself? It surprised him to find himself wishing them both well.

[Maltruism]

Come and get your Loot!

(There's plenty more where that came from)

PATRICK:

XP Rewards: +20

These points can NOT be used for magic.

Knowledges:

• Black Guard: Etzos' Guard in Southguard Too
• Commander Norris: Knows What You Are, But Let You Go
• Commander Norris: Only Let You Go to Save Ellen
• Detection: The Ring Works While Inside Your Arm
• Etiquette: Only Fair to Warn People of Sessfiend
• Location: Foster's Landing: Etzos' Port Town
• Location: Southguard: A Satellite Town of Etzos
• Medicine: Basic Poultices
• Medicine: Willow Tea as a Pain Killer
• Psychology: The Horror of Realizing the Ring is Gone
• Sessfiend: Speaks Through You, But With It's Own Voice
• Sessfiend: You Feel it Taking You Over

Loot:

A new set of plain clothes from one of the buildings you destroyed.

Loss, injuries:

A lot of scars from wounds that healed freakishly fast.
Your spark was unaffected. Really only emotional damage.
And lots of it.

Fame/Renown: +10

In truth, you would get less Renown than Ellen, as the whole point is for you to remain completely unconnected to the events.
Still your timely arrival and departure would make folks recall how you'd been there for the very worst of times in Southguard.
Basically, it's her renown rubbing off on you to some extent.

___________________________________________________________

ELLYN'WYN:

XP Rewards: +20

These points can NOT be used for magic.

Knowledges:

• Black Guard: Etzos' Guard in Southguard Too
• Commander Norris: A Good and Brave Man
• Commander Norris: Let Patrick Go Despite "Knowing"
• Detection: Magic Wards do not Work on a Sessfiend
• Discipline: Being Able to Listen When Terrified
• Discipline: Facing a Terrifying Transformation
• Discipline: Remembering to Grab the Ring
• Endurance: Digging Out of a Collapsed Building
• Endurance: A Monster Pressing it's Weight on Wounds and Injuries
• Endurance: The Weight of a Grown Man Slamming you to the Ground
• Flying: Circling to Use a Bow
• Flying: Shingles are Not a Good Landing Surface
• Leadership: Ordering Others to Relative Safety
• Recognizing When a Friend Must be Put Down
• Location: Southguard: A Satellite Town of Etzos
• Logistics: Weighing How Much Information Will Keep Patrick Safe
• Medicine: Basic Poultices
• Medicine: Southguard Medics WERE Helping
• Medicine: Willow Tea as a Pain Killer
• Patrick: His Magic has Been Uncertain Since Orimar
• Patrick: His Ring Prevents him Becoming a Monster
• Patrick: His Sessfiend is a Multi-Tailed Manticore That Spits Acid
• Persuasion: The Pleading of One Who Has Truly Been Through it
• Persuasion: A Plea for the Unbelievable Can be Strangely Sincere
• Psychology: Dealing With Nightmares of Orimar
• Psychology: Did Dropping the Ring Doom Southguard?
• Psychology: Fear so Intense it's Paralyzing
• Psychology: The Guilt of Relief That The Witnesses Died
• Sessfiend: Cannot Endure Seeing it's Own Reflection
• Tactics: Teamwork Against a Powerful Foe

Loot:

I'm sorry, but really nothing other than your life.

Loss, injuries:

Broken arm, Dislocated Wing, Two Cracked Ribs,
Multiple Bruises and Lacerations. Good thing You Went Straight to the Doctor.

Fame/Renown: +25

You were instrumental in defeating a horrible monster.
Even though there was not an actual killing stroke, Norris insists that he could not have done it without you.
It is, of course, best that the real details remain unknown.
Still, you were undeniably brave in the face of ungodly horror.
You deserve every point.

Comments:

This is one of the most great and terrible threads I have ever been involved in.
You were both superb in staying true to character and details. Fantastic!
Now, of course, you don't get knowledge while in sessfiend form.
But I cobbled together a few things before and after.