RP:A Vailkrin Style Parley

Part of the The Lesser of Two Evils Arc

Bridge Across the Void

Hemlock Way continues east and west, and is divided here by an abyssal gorge that cracks the land in twain, to what depths one can scarce imagine. Passage would be impossible were it not for a massive bridge spanning the void. Entrance to the bridge is gained at either end through the vast stone depiction of twin dire wolf-heads, each maw gaping widely enough to allow a wide and sturdy walkway to pass below, almost as though one is entering the bridge upon their ebon tongues. The bridge arches toward the center, and along each side, standing as if on guard, are set various gargoyles in the form of winged monsters that are at once terrifying and noble in aspect. The bridge itself has been heavily fortified with protective magics and brilliant engineering both, and is highly unlikely to fall to ruin even under the most enormous strain.

---

Redhale was in a foul mood when he approached, and the oppressive aura which surrounded him was particularly heavy and thrumming violently. Behind him several ranks of armored soldiers marched, each looking equally displeased behind their sloppy, oily war paint; apparently the illusionist had no delusions that the parley would go well, but for now his men's weapons were sheathed and instead their hands raised Vailkrin banners, black flags which hung sadly in the dull breeze. The group slowly filtered out from the forest and pulled up to the eastern side of the bridge, halting one step before the structure lest they find themselves trapped upon it by a bit of trickery on the vampires' part. Better to let the opposition fall into that one, he figured.

A cultist walks in from the east, Proclaiming "All hail the lich queen."

Rowen mutters "You mean all hail the supreme empress!" She scampers over to Kasyr. "Mind if I oversee the situation from atop your shoulder old friend?"

Kasyr , though not quite as foul-tempered as Redhale, is sporting a grimace- a smoldering cigarette slowly being grinded between clenched teeth. The revenant was truly doing his best to hold back his thoughts and opinions on what he thought of these particular proceedings (Though those amidst his coven may have heard him vocally expounded upon the ways and places they could stuff their parley on the way to Vailkrin). Despite himself, the Kensai even made an effort to appear dignified, a pair of formal crests having been affixed to his coat: One representing frostmaw, whilst the other represented the city of the dead. Picking at the decorative markings, Kasyr comes to a halt off to Redhales right side.

Redhale paralyses the cultist.

Rowen paraphrases the cultist.

Rowen said, "All hail the Supreme Empress"

Kasyr said to Rowen, "As tu would, Cherie."

Rowen scampers up onto the revanent's shoulder, in that odd lobsided way you climb when you are a three-legged rat. "Merci, mon cher."

Muraski approached the scene in his typical garb, the suit, the tie, the pants and etcetera. He moved towards Kasyr, Rowen, and Redhale in a rather curious fashion, one that offered the rat a few different glances as he wondered why the revenant would allow a rodent upon his shoulder.. He'd never met Rowen before. A nod was given towards the revenant, "Afternoon, Lord Kasyr." Was all he stated, another simple nod granted to Redhale, even though he had no idea about the man.

Kasyr||Across the bridge was a force that was equally as imposing as Redhales escort, a gathering of vampires as numerous as the Darkmans Undead- if not quite as 'formal' seeming. Perhaps it was the peculiar mirth that seemed to be affecting the armoured rank and file of the gathering- the occasional chuckles and smirks which spread from soldier to soldier. The fact that there was a plainly dressed vampire, with cropped black hair, pale red eyes and an appearance that could only be dubbed 'generic' busy lounging against a barrel didn't particularily help things. Truly, the only one who didn't seem to display the lax attitude of his comrades was the pleasently plump figure at the forefront of the crowds- undoubtedly because at 5 feet on the nose, it was unlikely he'd be able to loom authoratively near the back of the crowd. Or, really, do any sort of looming. Still, possessed of sandy brown hair, and eyes of a blue hue that seemed almost white- there was a striking dichotomy between him and the rest gathered. Something that was only made moreso by the elegant purple robes he wore, gilded in runes as fanciful as the ones etched upon the cover clutched in his left hand, "So- I take it this is the part where we go over our terms?" Despite appearances, his voice still carried a particularily predatorial edge- a raw natural authority, which lingered behind every word, with the promise of violence were he crossed.

Kolgaar arched a brow as he came upon a rather large crowd that seemed to be holding traffic across the bridge. The eight foot tall Ogre helf his staff firm in his left hand and a battle axe that rested on his shoulder in the right. A soft 'hmm' was given as he moved forward pushing a few of the vamperic beings out of his way. Narrowing his gray gaze the Ogre began to observe the features on the other side of the bridge and one thing was quick to catch his eye. The form of Kasyr standing among the people. A smirk instantly formed as Kolgaar whispered to himself. "Oh... This will be good." Unhindered by his inability to pass he simply stood now beside the leader of the rebellious crowd. A behemoth compared to the lot of him as he grinded his teeth and prayed a silent prayer to Aramoth in hopes of some blood shed.

Redhale 's voice ground out of the stonework in reply, resonating through the giant chasm beneath. His own violence was even less veiled, and a gentle suggestion in the minds of those nearby would wipe the smiles from many of the smug faces across the bridge, "No, this is where you explain the atrocities you've been committing against your brothers, and let us know how long it will be until you give our citizens back their homes." Perhaps he wasn't playing the politician very well, but his men didn't seem to mind as they responded to his words with a round of unholy screams and a clattering of steel as they drummed upon their shields, "As far as I can tell, you are doing the city no good. What could you even hope to offer?"

Kolgaar kept his gaze steady on Kasyr but passed a single glance to Redhale as his men began to beat their shields like drums of war. Kolgaars heart began to pound against his chest. He had no idea what this fight was for or what side he was fighting on but he didn't care. Aramoth lusted for battle and the Ogre figured he would oblige his lord by beating the smirk off of Kasyrs' face. The insults of his kin that came from the Frostmaw nation had pierced a nerve in the Ogre and he had long since waited for a reason to be blade to blade with this man. He anticipated. Unwilling to make the first move in a battle that was not of his own.

Kasyr draws the cigarette out from his lips, and casually snuffs it against the bridge. By this point his expression was no longer locked in that particular grimace he had started with- instead, shifting to that long-practiced neutral expression of his. With a slow shrug of his shoulders, the Revenant idly calls forward, "By the by, that offer I made to you a few evenings back? The whole bend the knee, or get lost thing? ...Entirely still in effect, tu know- if you can't help but vous parliez vous-meme right out of Parleying...you know? ....Botching negotiations, to be blunt." Kolgaar is given a particular look by this point, the ogres presence noticed amidst the crowd of vampires..and eliciting naught more than a shrug.

Muraski stood back and remained silent, he didn't really need to speak much at this point. Instead, he decided to take all of this in, as he looked upon Rowen, Kolgaar, Kas, and Redhale, the seriousness of the extra group and then.. Rowen again.. The rat reminded him to much of the blasted golem he kept stuffed away at his home. Things never took anything seriously. With a sigh, he idly withdrew weaponry and placed it on the ground in front of him, only to join it as he sat down beside it and waited. Maybe he'd use it, maybe he wouldn't? More or less, it was what Kas decided..

Rowen the tactical genius continues to squeak her wise counsel in Kasyr's ear. "Now the enemy we really have to be wary of is their penguin division...because some of them are not actually penguins at all but deadly ninja chickens wearing tuxedos." The rat waves cheerily at the Ogre in the front ranks of the opposition. "Hi there Bob, there is something different about you...a new hair cut? Great to see you as always." To the Kensai she comments. "My ex-husband, Bob. Nice chap, but sadly he is only human, and therefore unworthy of being married to the supreme empress."

Kolgaar kept his eyes locked to Kasyr's from this point on as no mind was heeded to the rat that was perched so lazily upon his shoulder. The green skin grew anxious at this point. His fingers rapidly tapping both the staff and battle axe hilts. He grew tired of waited, the anticipation grew stronger as he bit heavily into his lip.

Kasyr said to Rowen, "That...looks like an ogre to me. I can't place it, but he almost seems familiar."

A large, leather-bound grimoire appears in mid air and falls to the floor with a thud, several black pages tearing themselves free during the descent.

Rowen regards the mysterious leather bound book with irritation. "We have no time for reading stories just now. Begone and take your young page with you." To Kolgaar she calls "On the whole, new haircut not so great. I am told it makes you look like a pea-brained ogre." Kolgaar rumbled a growl in his throat at the taunt. The rat didn't seem... there. But even still. He remained patient in his waiting.

A large, leather-bound grimoire flips a few of its own dark pages before slamming shut and disappearing.

Kasyr ||Lucius, the short vampire at the head of the pack, offers a brief wiggle of his right hand- before he casually draws his book in front of himself, and begins to click it open and close. The tone presented by the elder vampire carries the same authorative edge, even despite that unpleasent suggestion that had been implanted in the minds of those nearby~ "I'm offering this city many things: Power. Structure. Purpose." Kasyr, by this point, pipes up with a grumble and a, "That es my candidacy speech you're stealing there." Lucius tsks faintly at that, before simply continuing, "I'm bringing it together beneath one unified banner, which is more than can be said of anyone since the departure of our illustrious leaders." A pause, and Lucius simply allows his left hand to untense, the book unfolding once more, "Really, you should be thanking me but.... But... But, you have to be ungrateful- don't you? ...You can't, you just can't see the big picture here, can you?" Bit by bit, the vampires expression has begun to darken, plump digits quivering with a hitherto unspoken rage, "That I'm what's best for this city. That it's what's best for me." Briefly glancing over towards the 'ever-so-generic' appearing vampire that's still slouching against a barrel, the elder vampire simply snaps his fingers, "Samael. Wake up. I don't want you to miss my speech." The slouched vampires solitary reaction is to glance over towards Lucius, before slouching all the way to the ground behind the barrel. Lucius isn't really paying heed to that vampire any longer, his attention returning to Redhale and his gathered crew, "You want to know what I offer? I offer them a future.."

Kasyr ||This time when the dry click of snapping fingers is heard, it's not followed by a sharply spoken order. No, Lucius' words are soft spoken symphony of malice- which upon completion scorch their venemous intentions into the earth beneath Redhale in his group, a massive sigil of angrily blazing runes pulsing as though in tune with Lucius' hatred. As spectacular as that initial manifestation is, it's fairly likely that no one will be paying much heed to Lucius as the right arm of his robe begins to stain a much deeper shade of purple, a few crimson droplets spilling onto the ground following this shift. No, the invocation of his vampiric gift- to transfer his vital essence, his -blood-, into raw magical energy is likely far less noticeable than the resulting influx of magical energy that floods into the sigil. That onrush of power is enough to activate the sigil several times over, it's original purpose of absorbing ambient magical energy entirely bypassed in favour of the imminent destruction it's to bring. Redhale's group would barely have any warning before the sigil abruptly ruptures- the fiery energy that was supposed to be released by the spells design now manifesting as a voracious pyroclasm, a blossoming pillar of pyric destruction that surges out to consumed the area. "I offer them a world without you." Samael -hadn't- been idle during this time either, the elder vampire merely slipping through the shadow he had provided himself by virtue of his lazy leanings upon the barrel. It's but mere moments after that he effectively pulls himself out of the shadow of one of his nearby compatriots- before he drags himself and his sire into the sanctuary that the darkness provides, effectively removing them from the battlefield. Though, not before the singular hiss of, "Make sure they're dead. Theresa! You make sure they are dead!"

Kasyr ||One can't be sure whether that hiss occured before Lucius had crossed the shadows threshold, or after~ Not that helpful.

Rowen was bored by the polititian's speech up until the moment when Lucius mentions the 'big picture' at which point the rat peers eagerly at the open grimoire. She likes picture books, but sadly all the little supreme empress can see is funny writing, she sighs something about another unfullfilled campaign promise. As that deadly pyroclasm storms across the bridge towards them the rodent comments to Kasyr. "Beautiful warm weather for this time of year, isn't it."

Redhale barely even listened to Lucius' speech, as his attention was momentarily grabbed by the brief appearance of his grimoire, an item which would have proved extremely useful if it had bothered to hang around for more than a moment. It even crossed his mind that he should attempt to follow it, and in that moment he was caught off guard for the area which he and his men occupied erupted into flames, intense heat dragging his attention back to the situation at hand, which happened to be that his writhing wrappings were caught alight. The combined roar which rose from the ranks must have been heard for miles, as each painted face turned to the sky and heaved out whatever noise they could through rotten throats, accompanied by Redhale's own amplified outrage. With them the land too seemed to howl, the ancient combined spirit of Vailkrin insulted by the attack. The scream was still hanging in the air when the burning masses dashed forwards across the bridge, their banners falling into the flames behind them as weapons were drawn and shields raised. Redhale himself didn't bother to put out the fire, but whatever substance existed beneath his robes was a little more durable than the bodies of his men, several of which had fallen into ash well before they met their enemy. The dark man himself simply flared his flaming cloak outwards, becoming a wedge of black shadow outlined by that orange glow from which more undead appeared to march, these few fresh and yet unburnt.

Muraski wasted no time to watch as the runes blazed towards him, his little reaction time spent in escaping instead. He turned around, grasped his weapons, and fired his grappling hook as quickly as he might. The hook was aimed towards the side of the bridge. Once the contraption latched on it pulled Muraski away, out of the blast, not out of the eruption. The force from the blast smashed his form against the side of the bridge and while he was alive, it wasn't exactly in his favored of conditions. Bruises were to be had, a dislocated shoulder to be enjoyed as it was struck with the most force from the collision. Once all had settled, the man slowly made his way to his feet and leaned heavily against the structure, the mage would have to die.. The man who did that? He was going to have to die for damaging the rogue's shoulder.

Administrative message from Redhale: From the direction of Vailkrin a bright orange flash fills the skies, followed by an immense, unholy howling.

Rowen is clinging tight to Kasyr's shoulder!

Kasyrs' overall lax attitude towards this particular 'ensemble' and the ensuing speech that starts up is enough that he's staring at his feet after a few moments- silently praying for it to be over. Which, really, is sort of silly on the part of the Revenant, given he was Daedria's Requiem & all, and is more than familiar with the power of prayer. Either way, the long and short of this situation is that the Kensai is more than aware of the brusque appearance of the runes beneath their feet, and the malevolant glow provided by them. Long practiced motions bring the Revenants hands down to his side in a swift, fluid motion, fingers curling to grasp at the mass of obsidian energy that has surged from his sleeves and pooled at his hips. Even as the air begins to heat up, and that ominous surge of power fills the air around the Kensai, his left hand fully clenchs upon the hilt and begins to pull- even as his right hand slides the sheathe down. Rowen, poor thing that she is, is likely going to become a fluffed up mass of fur due to the sudden surge of static shock surrounding the Kensai- the scent of burnt ozone likely all but imperceptible amidst the general assailment of the senses provided by the odour of scorched turf. It's upon the full unsheathing and thrust of the Katana that the Revenants action is realized, a portion of his left arm effectively ionizing due to the invocation of his abilities- a bloody smear along the inside of his trenchcoat sleeve the price for the literal-lightning quick charge that sends him streaking from the heart of the fiery torrent as it emerges to engulf him. Invariably, what this amounts to, is that poor Rowen is effectively being buffeted by winds at speeds she likely shouldn't have to endure, and shocked a fair bit- but has fortuitously managed to avoid becoming a seared rat steak. Kasyr, likewise, isn't looking all that worse for the wear, numerous scorches along his body and coat having been minimized to just that due to the sudden burst in speed. No, his main problem is that his reckless charge has him landing at the brink of the -other- side of the bridge...with his Katana firmly lodged in the throat of an unforunately positioned vampire. A quick jerk of his wrist is all that's needed to remove the mooks' head, before the Kensai flicks his wrist back- positioning the blade behind him, and effectively 'cleaning' it of the majority of the blood upon it. "Anyone? Surrender?"

Redhale 's dark form continued to expand upwards and outwards even as the final waves of flame washed over him. As fast as the fire consumed his robes they seemed to be pouring out of him faster, ropes of cloth twining together to spread out into a giant black sail which blocked much of the surrounding landscape from view. Undead soldiers stomped their way out of the blackness to assault the vampires that had been left behind, roaring battle cries as they crossed the threshold and set upon their enemies. They swung their weapons clumsily, but heavily, and while the vampires had ample opportunity to stab at them as they blundered about they were hard pressed to stop the swinging steel edges; strong as the gang of vampires were the stiff flesh of the dead and the weight of their heavy Duregar weapons was stronger. Still, their numbers had been cut significantly, and there were many vampires to cut through. So it was that their continued grating yells summoned a pair of hulking, rotting minotaurs, the each of them covered head to toe in thick Duregar steel and wielding great battle-axes, who appeared from the streets of Vailkrin to attack the vampires from behind. Despite their heavy stomping few of the vampires had turned about quickly enough to avoid being cut right in half by the first swings of the minotaurs' weapons, and those that did were hard pressed to find an opening to attack as the pair swung their axes again and again, as if mowing crops.

Muraski leaned against the side of the bridge, obviously bruised and battered. He was in the back of the group at this point, far from the obvious fighting and the minotaurs who hacking and slashing everything apart. When finally he did get back up he slowly made his way towards where the others were and stood back, to important or to sore to go back into the fray already, he wasn't exactly sure at this point. As he stood there watching the minotaurs hack and skewer people in two. A cruel smile grew upon his face, this was rather amusing to him.

Kasyr isn't sure whether he should be relieved or worried that he can't see the ogre anymore. What Kasyr -is- sure about, is that he wants to be anywhere -but- the particular position he's found himself in. After all, whilst Redhales reinforcements (in the form of a pair of undead minotaurs) are certainly providing a glorious distraction- there's still quite a few vampires that are solely focused upon him, since he had managed to get himself within the midst of their forces, on the other side of the bridge. It can thus be considered rather logical in the face of such odds that, rather than deal with the unknown factor that such a gathering of vampires provide, the Kensai abruptly backsteps right off the cliff face, though not before he manages to gut an oncoming assailant with a violent thrust of his Katana (made all the more messy by the manner in which the slender blade expands into the guise of a bastard sword mid impalation). Still, the end result remains the same, the Revenant tipping over the edge leaving the gathered vampiric masses to deal with Redhales forces. It's by this point that the few who are gifted with magic are bustled towards the center of the group- specifically tasked with trying to halt the threat posed by the minotaur. So long as they can secure the rear, there still remains a hope that they can turn this around.

Katya had heard rumours of conflict in the benighted lands of Vailkrin, and curiosity was forever at risk of killing Kat. The elven mercenary canters to within distant view on a black gelding, riding tall atop a saddle of foreign design, made distinctive by a wooden frame with curved prow and a high cushion. Pulling out a telescope enchanted to see in the dark, for those night raids in Ruslva seas, she examines the situation, trying to gauge who was fighting who, and if there was a chance for profit to a mercenary wind dancer. Her scimitar and buckler hang at her side, ready for use, as are a pair of javelins which are slotted into the wooden frame forming part of her saddle tack.

Kasyr ||The reason -why- there is a hope that things can turn around for them, despite the unexpected amount of resistance being displayed after their leaders show of force, is because they aren't the only 'group' present, as it were. Theresa's 'recruits' were on standby, a portion of the motley crew of undead she was ever accumulating- be it through the exertion of her arts in raising new dead..or more likely, through the utter destruction of the minds and spirits of lesser undead. It was this latter means of subjugating the masses to her will, and by extension her sires, that had them at such ends with Redhale, though it certainly has proven effective in bolstering their forces. A fact that is visibly clear as a fair number of limbs begin to emerge from the ground- that secondary force of 'troops' having been roused from their shallow 'graves' by the last command of their master. Various weapons, both rusted and otherwise, are dragged up from the confines of their impromptu resting places- before the lumbering dead surge forward from behind Redhales forces- intent upon finishing off the corpses that hadn't been decimated by Lucius fiery attack, before pushing onwards, in an attempt to hack through the massive black 'cloak' that had surged over the bridge.

Rowen is on Kasyr's shoulder.

Redhale 's spreading darkness managed to delay the enslaved undead's attack, but not for long. The rippling black surface held up to multiple swipes but through determined hacking the force found their way through the cloth wall, spilling out onto the bridge with at least as much enthusiasm as Redhale's painted ones. The armored force took another hit as they spun about only quickly enough to spy the blades which skewered them, but they wouldn't go down as easily as the vampires. So it was that one one side of the bridge the battle raged ferociously, vampire blood flowing across the stonework while precise blows sliced off significant chunks of decayed flesh and corpses from both sides mounded up, while at the other side a slower battle was taking place, one which involved many damaged but walking soldiers and much fussing about while both sides struggled to untangle their weapons from the other side's flesh and bone. If one were to tear their gaze from the battle and look further, though, they would have noticed that the dark wall Redhale created was no longer simply blackness, but shone with the light of another world. The surface of his cloak was no longer flat, and in its depths a gently glowing landscape could be seen, with bare-branched trees set growing from a ground covered in shining white grass up to a dark, purple sky. Scars of blackness marked the spots where the undead had broken through though they were slowly healing, while a huge, unmoving dark spot remained in the center of the expanse, surrounding the pale mask that was Redhale's face. The image was likely similar on the other side, so whatever portion of the reinforcements had remained behind to deal with the crippled survivors of the inferno would have to remain there or become lost in whatever land Redhale had created.

Dulcinea was distracted. Ever since she had disembarked from the ship in Cenril, she had been trying to reconcile the twinges and strange feelings that she had not felt for nearly two years. Stepping onto land that she once knew so well had felt like coming home to her. Granted, she had never felt that way about Cenril in particular...but the shores. Yes, she had felt it. The young healer adjusted her cloak and satchel, picked up her stave and headed in the general directions she felt tugged towards. It wasn't physical, it was mental and it was very familiar to her. Most of the day was spent making her way West, from the docks towards that presence that beckoned her like a beacon. She chose to walk, reveling in the scenery she had been away from so long. Once she left Cenril and headed towards Kelay, something felt off. Dulci pauses for a moment, orienting herself before turning North, towards Vailkrin just in time to be nearly blinded by the strange orange glare that filled the sky. Gaping in shock, she hurries her pace making her way towards territory she once knew belonged to her old clan. Which was conincidentally, the same direction that she was being tugged towards mentally. The sounds of combat reach her even before her empathic senses can make sense of what is going on. The scene is nothing of which she is prepared for. The girl tries to remain hidden while searching for the one person she had been looking for. From the looks of things, Kasyr was definitely here. Somewhere, most likely in the thick of things.

Katya twists her lips. Zombies and vampires. Was like choosing lesser of two evils. There was only one way to figure out how to do this. Drawing her scimitar and buckler, Katya whispered 'Vyetyer' and channeled a small stream of mana to the buckler's runes, drawing in air and sending it forth. Shouting at her buckler, her voice is carried by the winds "Who will be paying me to fight, for how much, and who should I be fighting?" Katya had never quite learned art of subtlety, preferring direct To display her 'credentials', Katya whispers 'Pl'amya' and the runes on her scimitar light up and the blade is wreathed in flames.

Muraski blinked as the mass displays of power once more appeared and sadly, all he could do was sigh and wish that for once he could show off something like that as well.. Though, rather then wishing, he did have a few things in his bag. He reached into the pack he carried with him, having learned from the last time Kasyr summoned him that coming to these things unprepared wasn't wise he decided to change things up a little. Finally he pulled out an unlit torch, a few bottles filled with liquid but corked off and cloth pinched in from the corks. He went about business, flint used to light the torch, torch used to light the bottles, bottles thrown towards a small group to cause chaos. Fire always brightened things up and his mood seemingly became happier as a gleeful smile came across his face once the culprits behind his arm began to pay. Perhaps now, he might evade the two silver tax of Rowen?

Kasyr didn't really have all that fall to far, if only because a combination of vampiric strength and an exceptionally durable sword serve admirably in the creation of a make-shift Anchor, Gospel having been lodged into the cliff-face not a moment thereafter. From there, the already large form of a bastard sword was altered into the bulkier form of a broadsword- effectively ensuring that the weapon didn't wiggle from as the Kensai pulls himself up onto the surface he's effectively provided from himself. It's a precarious balancing act, with some particularily high stakes if he should falter. It also doubles as an admirable coat hanger- given the kensai uses the temporary pause from people trying to kill him, to shuck his coat off and hang it up on the still stuck sword. The very moment the Revenants back is no longer impeded by that monstrosity of leather and hidden mithril mesh- is the moment a pair of familiar mounds begin to form upon his back. In a gruesome display of shredded flesh and spurting gore, a pair of large leathery wings emerge from Kasyrs back. Kneeling down to collect his coat, the Kensai promptly flaps his wings, sending him sailing up over the cliff edge, and back into the fray... which let's him bare witness to the fallen moments of Redhales minotaurs. After all, whilst they are certainly able to cleave through those vampires who were possessed of enough folly to engage them in a raw test of physical might- they are hardly prepared for the mass of black flame that promptly bursts into existance along their bodies, seeking to consume their limbs- and render them ineffectual, or at least weaken them to such an extent that they can be overtaken. Which is about the point where Kasyr gets right back to moving, wings flapping to bring him back towards the crowd. Without wasting one further moment, the Revenant hucks his coat at the nearest vampire- the mass of preklek metal and mithril mesh serving admirably to knock the fellow off balance just long enough for Kasyr to get close. The poor sucker (literally) wouldn't even see the Revenants fist wind back, nor the ominous emergance of a blackened mass of energy winding its way around the Kensais fist and forming into a gauntlet. No, the vampires perceptions' simply limited to a rather abrupt and unpleasent set of experiences that kicks off with an onomatopoeiac 'Wham'..and promptly degrades into a rapid alternating view of the ground and the sky, before he finishes his haphazard roll right into the thick of the vampiric casters in the crowd. Kasyr is right back at the top of their list of people to kill, clearly.

Rowen shouted, "Wheeeeee!"

Kasyr said, "Muraski, pay the woman."

Kasyr is technically second on their list of people to kill, however. Given that Muraskis' fiery antics is earning him the ire of vampires of both torched and untorched persuasions. A close second, though.

Rowen said, "Yeah Muraski. You owe four silver in unpaid fines."

Katya began a measured canter down towards the bridge, holding the rein in her left hand - to which her buckler was also strapped. A gentle weaving of the winds, focused through a dazzling pattern of fiery scimitar slashes and streams of mana, helps carry the sound of the battle to the mercenary's ears as she sought out signs of interest for her services. Was that...? No, surely not... but then, bossy little rat had strange way of showing up in the worst places in the most bizarre fashions. Directing her horse in the general direction of Rowen, and thus Kasyr, Katya steeled her mind for the combat to come. It had been long time since last grand melee, when Alexandrei and Ulaf patched things up, and had joined forces to raid Fyodor's territory. It had been glorious bloodshed. There was likely to be more ooze than blood, though, in the press of undead below. Katya had to carefully decide how long to spend on horseback, for she was averse to idea of losing Blackmail Beauty after having so recently stolen him.

Dulcinea had wisely decided to stay well away from the immediate danger zone, choosing rather to scurry along the peripherals. Her priorities had shifted for the moment, seeing the injured, dying and dead push her desire to find Kasyr out of its spot at the front of the line. Spurred into action, the healer kneels next to a body that had been thrown off to the side. Well, this one was clearly dead if the missing half of his body was any indication. Quickly she stands and heads towards another, opening her senses up so that she could better feel where attention might be needed. The second one she stopped at was dead as well, clearly they weren't taking prisoners...whoever was fighting. Before she can head to the next one, a somewhat famliar flying body catches her attention. Mostly because this one was in control of his flight and not being tossed aside like garbage. The small healer frowns in concentration, skittering away from a rather large man that was heading back into the fray. The violent types were usually to be avoided at all costs. She had to remember this place was full of them.

Rowen waves to Katya without a care in the world. She is completely oblivious to them all being in mortal danger.

Redhale would have berated Muraski for his conjuring of more fire, if not outright assaulted him, for while the vampires burnt well his own men burnt more easily and so again many a dry dead body was set alight as the flames spread across the bridge. Luckily for the dark man his soldiers weren't bothered by the flames despite the damage they did, while the pain of searing flesh sent many of the vampires scattering, opening weak spots in their defense that the flaming skeletal warriors were quick to take advantage of, filing in and beginning to tear apart the group from the inside out. At the other end of the throng The minotaurs had fallen, their legs having grown too weak to support their bodies and heavy armor after the magical assault upon them, however they still swung their axes from where they sat, and as such created a dangerous if stationary obstacle in the way of the vampire's retreat, unless they wanted to try their luck with the spectre at the other end of the bridge. The landscape there remained, and while the smaller black scars had vanished completely the wide area of darkness around Redhale's mask had simply become more defined, its edges sharpening into the shape of a giant, four-legged beast, from the face of which that blank mask stared. It sprung forth from the wall and out onto the bridge in a rather confusing manner, as while the silhouette of the beast could be easily traced from any angle, thus discerning its shape as a whole, there was otherwise no depth to the apparition but simply flat darkness save for the mask at its center, which meant that the enthralled undead who faced it directly didn't even flinch as one clawed limb struck forwards and crushed them beneath its huge paw, the muffled thump it made barely audible amongst the loud cracks and pops the squashed foes produced.

Katya was shocked to see Redhale's mask, and pulls her horse into a full pirouette and holding position a distance from the bridge. Releasing the reins for a moment, Katya pulls out the telescope to examine the situation once more, but swiftly is puting two and two together to make four when she makes out who Rowen is perched on. Muttering "Mister garbage man" Katya pulls out the mask he'd dropped, which Tysinni had tripped over, and Katya had subsequently claimed. putting on the mask, she pulls it back so that it doesn't obscure her vision. Hopefully it would stop whatever that creature of darkness was from pouring dark sorceries at her while she worked a profitable angle on the conflict.

Zondo sits at safe distances and staaaaaares. >.>

Muraski found himself being told what to do by Kas, suddenly, an urge to listen had come over him; damned contract and all. He turned to find the woman who screamed about wanting to be purchased. When he finally spotted Katya, he found himself only to get attacked! Just as he was about to approach the woman upon the horse, several vampires got past the forces and rushed straight at him. The group of three crushed through the bottles that had yet to be lit, only one to get the liquid upon him. A calm merchant took a step back, lit torch swung at the ground to light the fluids spilled and quickly engulf the third. With the first of three dismissed, Muraski charged, two weapons to impale his guts with swords and a gasp of pain to escape him. He grabbed both of their heads, a surge of adrenal strength behind him as he smashed both skulls into one another. One time didn't seem enough, two wasn't it either, but the third was the charm as brain fluids splattered outwards, bones crushed, and bodies crumpled to no longer hold the blades that ran the merchant through. Pain suppressed by the energy of battle, he turned around and tossed a set of coins at Katya, "You're hired, get in there." And with that he attempted to get away from the fray, further behind the lines and under the protection of whatever he might.. He even stumbled into Dulci, collapsing in front of her as pain assailed him and physics finally took their course.

Dulcinea winces in shared agony as she feels the pain that seemed to be everywhere around her. She draws her sense inward, blocking out the worst of the empathetic sensations that were crowding the healer. Instead she focuses on the actions happening in her immediate area. There was the strangely gleeful woman on horseback, why she needed that scary looking mask was anyone's guess. The stench of burning flesh and dead bodies permeated the air, along with the screams and sounds of combat. Nearly overwhelmed by how much was going on, the healer was at a loss of what to do. That was right up until the moment she's unceremoniously bowled over by a bleeding man in a tuxedo. Who wore a suit like that to a battle? Blinking down at Muraski, she quickly kneels next to him moving to pull his clothes out of the way so she could see the wounds better. "S-s-sir? Stay w-with m-me." It took a few seconds to get over her extreme shyness, but it was easier when they were injured. Injured people were always easier to talk to.

Ranok || Overhead, the perpetual twilight of the Vailkrin sky gains a new shadow moving through it. The wind whispers lovingly, impartial to the devastation wrought on the grounds below, pushing the object through the sky. The proud airship Spectre, functionally stolen from Ehli by Ranok, pushes through. It'd been a roundabout trip, and the navigator wasn't really clear on the logistics, but they'd made it through. Cut in the splitting image of a more seaborne vessel, the Spectre was an unconventional airship made conventional. Elerium plates bolted onto the hull glisten here or there, taken from yet another airship, the much lamented Fly Bye. Sails billowing full, air enchantments engaged to cull the most favorable wind, and armed to the teeth as much as was allowed, the thing was an utter weapon of war. And a very dashing source of transportation. Sent the second all hell broke loose in Kelay/Cenril from the pyroclastic eruption via dark magics best left unspoken of, the ship made decent time. Late to the party, but sure as hell fresh. On board was a crew of experienced nautical seamen, who had gotten a quick tutorial from a trio of fermin from the airship that the Spectre now wore, as well as full cannon and trim. On approach to the Dark Lands, the sails trim back, the lookouts go full duty, and Ranok himself goes on deck, duster billowing in the wind. He wasn't going to make a move, not yet, but that cannonade could rip anyone a new one fairly quickly. All that would be seen from the ground is a dark spec in the sky topped with white sails. No flag raised, not yet. No alligence declared. Ranok was playing this one close to the chest. In addition to the preparations of the ship itself, a dark titan sits on deck. A shape some might be familiar with. A so-called Doorknocker, ready to be pitched off deck and rumble. Kas may recognize it. Hovering forbiddinly, the airship waits for some clarity before it acts.

Muraski looked up at the shy female and rolled his eye, the only eye, as she spoke. "Already did that, just make sure it don't happen again." He was obviously rather.. Crude with how he spoke, not niceties for the female working to help him. Weakly he raised his arm and pointed at the swords, "Take those out." As she moved to help out, he nodded behind her, "Oh, and there is an angry on fire vampire coming at you.. Kill him please?" Obviously the one that had been burned via Molotov didn't actually die.

Kasyr , between the horrific display mustered by Redhale, the fact that a fair few assailants went off to kill Muraski or try to futilely hold the lone at the bridge, not to mention the forces that have fled or otherwise been killed- isn't facing such terrible odds anymore. And hell, the Kensais' reputation is enough to make some fellows flee, in and of itself. Which simply leaves Kasyr to deal with the remnants, and the sprawled out mess that was the fellow he decked, and the casters of this particular sortie. Dashing forward with a zeal that's best reserved for lunatics, Kasyr promptly begins to dodge and weave between those few that still possess the courage to try and fight him. It's only when he finds himself all but poised to run straight into a blade, that he bothers to flick his right hand forward into the swords arc-the gauntlet guised Gospel more than durable enough to shrug off the impact. A swift sidestep takes the Kensai inside his vampiric assailiants personal bubble, if only so he can drive his fist up into the fellows chin with enough force to bodily lift him off of the ground, before he opens his hand drives the pointed claws of his gauntlets threw the fellows throat- and than promptly smashes his face off the ground. The sidestep was, thankfully, enough to provide the Kensai an extra moment of not being engaged- thereby granting Kasyr time to wrench the sword free from the deadmans' hand. It's about this point that those vampires of a more magical persuasion are finally starting to collect themselves. pushing and punching at the vampires that were sprawled atop them. Really, that violence was primarily aimed at the one who was still seeing stars, and was draped in Kasyrs trenchcoat.

Katya shakes her head as a vampire pushes out of the press of undead, having mashed two heads together, to hurl her fee through the air with great strength. As she catches the sack by letting it hit her buckler and slide down to the saddle, Katya decides this was going to be... interesting. Feeling the weight of the purse and seeing how concentrated the combat was, Katya decides this was being no country for young horses. Stowing the pay and vaulting off the beast, she whispers in its ear and slaps it on the rump, sending it to stand a distance away as she compacts and puts her telescope away to begin the wind dance. Sinuous movements and a small amount of mana harmonise Katya with the air and wind, and she clears the distance to the placed Muraski had lit up in a sequence of acrobatic leaps, low shifting crouches, and dancing spins, until she reaches the vampires approaching Muraski, flaming scimitar flashing in the dark. Katya moves gracefully, her clothing rustling in a wind seeming centred upon her, as she cuts high, low, left, right, sweeping from low crouch to spinning rise with blade and buckler dancing to dash aside reaching claws and swung weapons as her fiery scimitar slices through the empty spaces to find flesh. The wind dance was a dance of void, and as the air flowed between combatants, so did Katya. The elven mercenary loses herself in the dance, and where she encounters the smooth white skin of vampires, her fiery scimitar slices out in controlled and elegant circles, cutting the hands of one vampire off at the wrists and searing through another vampiric neck and an adjacent vampiric face as Katya trills out peal after peal of merry laughter and the occasional cry of "Sdokhni Upyr'suka!" as a claw slashes a glancing cut through her leathers, or a blade traces a slight line of red along her ribcage. One vampire disarmed, one beheaded, one... defaced? And the elf's dance continues. The Vampire still on fire Katya leaves be, focusing on the fresh reinforcements determining that Muraski can handle it, seeing as he could smash two skulls together to make braincakes.

Dulcinea spares a glance for Muraski's face as he starts to speak, blinking rather nervously at his one eye-ness. This fellow was obviously no stranger to disaster. Pushing her worries away, she quickly returns her gaze to his stomach, knowing that the first step would be to remove the blades. Which he kindly points out to her in rather crude words. Biting her lower lip, she grasps the hilt of one weapon, using what strength she could muster to pull it out of his middle. Before the sword even clears his flesh, she's distracted by her patient's voice. Angry, on fire vampire? Turning quickly in shock, she brings the blade with her, finally removing it from his abdomen. Only to have the assailant impale himself on the sharp end in a moment of shock for both of them. Dulci lets out a small squeak of surprise, dropping her hands from the hilt even as her victim falls over to the ground, not quite dead. "Oh d-d-dear! S-sorry! So sor-r-rry!" Torn between her two stabbed patients, she quickly decides to help the one that hadn't been trying to kill her. Plus, the other one still seemed to be on fire as it lay a few feet away. And burning people made bad patients. Now that she was focused on Muraski again, it was relatively easy to remove the second blade and set it off to the side. "H-hold still, p-p-please." Gathering her energy around her body, she rubs her hands together feeling the warmth building between her palms. After a few seconds, she pulls them apart a glow spreading between her hands and lighting the space between their bodies. With great concentration she carefully places her glowing hands on Mura's abdomen, barely a hairsbreadth away from his wounds. The healer pours her healing magic into hands, feeling it flow out of herself and into the vampire's injured body. He would probably be able to feel the tingling heat spread through his body, centering on the parts of him that were injured. The stinging itch of healing flesh would be the next thing that he felt as her magic worked.

Ranok || Back on the ship, one dumbfounded lookout has to pick up his jaw from the floor. Kasyr's shenanigans had not gone unnoticed by the young elf with a crude telescope. As the spectacle continues, the young watchman calls over Ranok with a "Sir...I think you need to see this." The telescope was handed off and the large man takes all of about three seconds looking through it to conclude: "Oh, Kasyr. Vy em Hy not surprised?" Kas had a special brand of...fighting. A few barked orders and the ship was brought about broad side. The Spectre was a long range artillery platform, apparently, though most of that cannonade had been ripped out and cut down for more personal ship to ship and bombardment. Ehli still didn't know about that one. Now to announce their arrival. Kasyr usually meant things were hairy. And that translated, in military terms, to 'target rich environment'. Which in laymen's terms means 'lot of things about to go boom'. A fairly gentlemanly eight gun salute shortly follows. Grapshot, full load, in tandum. The whistling sound would scream overhead. Some might balk at the display of firepower, but this wasn't exactly a namby pamby duel, but war. That required escalation. It was incredibly unsutble. It was meant to be. The force of every gun going off actually rocks the ship, but that was to be expected. On impact, anything fleshy would suddenly find itself considerably less fleshy. Considering Kas was the only one moving against foes, Ranok figured the kensai was alone. The shots weren't exactly 'pinpoint', being somewhat akin to a shotgun the size of an entire ship, but there was a fair chance that Kas may find himself dodging metal. There was an even better chance that he would be dancing among the carnage while blood and bodies broke. Just in case the 'friendly greeting' went unnoticed, a second volley was prepared and then unleashed in short order. Those were explosives. Subtle? Overkill? There were no such things. Only: Open fire! and I need to reload! Ranok wasted a scant few moments to regret not being able to deliver the cold blooded one liner he'd cooked up on the ship. It'd have been wasted. "Oh vell." Once the second volley was unleashed and even more blood, craters, and gore marred the side of the bridge Kas was on, the ship was turned around again. Sails snap, and the ship moves, beginning a slow circle of the area. No use presenting an absolutely still target, after all.

Katya finds her concentration rocked by the first cannonade, shattered by the second, and with a shrieked "Vyetyer!" launches herself away from an attacking vampire with a high, twisting, windboosted leap to land next to the vampire Muraski and the woman healing him. The elven mercenary laughs "Eto piz'dets! That is being airship! This is crazy fun battle I am buying into!" before taking a moment to take stock of her injuries. A cut on her left arm, and across her ribcage, both bleeding slightly, but nothing serious yet. Taking careful note of where the airship seemed to be concentrating its fire, Katya breathes deeply to regains her focus.

Redhale 's bestial aspect of shadow let out a roar even greater than that of his combined forces as more of his mean are torn apart by the volley of fire Ranok and his ship had sent. Unfortunately unless the ship made a close flyby his current form would not be able to reach the perpetrator, although the image of that ship would be forever preserved in his memory and would likely be sought after later. For now he seemed content to step fully out of the portal he had opened with swiping steps which slapped aside the enslaved undead, batting their bodies into the gaping abyss while trying to preserve what few of his own remained. As the giant apparition moved forwards the portal shrunk and closed behind it, pulling out to become the beast's flowing tail. Curiously the few undead which had wandered into the illusion did not appear upon its dispelling, evidence which highly suggested they had been forced to submit to whatever dominating will they had found inside. At least they would no longer suffer the will of the vampires. As the black beast slunk slowly forwards, picking off the reinforcements as it moved, the zombies at the front line continued their spirited attack, though by now the scene was a might more sad. Both sides had taken heavy casualties and even the thickest part of the fray had more or less become groups of soldiers stepping awkwardly over moaning bodies and lost body parts. The scene was comparatively peaceful until the second volley of fire hit and more fire bloomed across the bridge. Had Redhale been in his right mind he would have tried to extinguish it, having dealt with so much flames in this battle already, but instead the display simply enraged him further and suddenly the most dangerous aspect of the battle was not explosives, fire, dwarven steel or vampiric strength but the rampant charging of that shadowy beast, its body taking up nearly the entire width of the bridge as it barreled onwards, threatening all present with the challenge to meet its claws, dodge the swinging axes at the other end or try their luck in the abyss.

Muraski growled as he found himself being healed by the magical woman and when finally she finished, he moved to place his arm around her shoulder. He used her as a prop to stand, once upon two feet he removed the crossbow from it's holster and pointed it at the burning foe. The weapon was fired, all eight rounds to be exact, as time and time again a bolt imbedded itself into the man's head until Muraski had worked out his anger issues from being stabbed, THEN healed. Oh how he hated being healed. He turned an angered head towards Dulcinea and grumbled out his next set of words, "Don't.... Heal.. Me.. Again." Once the cruel words were out, he extended a gloved hand, in her direction, "Muraski LeskoVac. Pleasure doing business." He gave a brief nod but was still to wobbly to stand on two legs.. You know.. Dulci was starting to look rather.. Foodly.

Katya said to Muraski, ""You have strange way of doing business, darling." Katya notices the hungry gleam to his eyes "And stop looking at her neck, this is hardly time to be thinking about dinner."

Muraski said to Katya, "Necks and food don't go together well, little lamb."

Katya grins and flourishes her fiery scimitar "I like my dinner well cooked, boy"

Muraski shrugged at the comment, "There is a corpse right there." Muraski the points at the charred man.

Kasyr , while all these shenanigans were brewing, was simply continuing on his rather straightforward path- albeit now armed with a sword to work in conjuction with his inherant strength, and the amplification that the gauntlet provided. No longer were his actions the fickle evasions his opposition had come to expect- what had once been a simple side step now seguing smoothly into an abrupt upwards swipe of the sword meant to open his opponents shear off an opponents arm, whilst a deft duck might be used to simply sever torso from body. The Kensai especially relished those brief opportunities to parry, strength and skill providing precious openings- the most recent one leading to Kasyr driving his pilfered arnament through a vampire with enough force to crack blade and bone alike, before an upwards beat of his wings tears it loose and sends him sailing over towards the almost recovered dogpile of bodies. Which is about the time the Revenant takes heed of the salvo of shots, and the distinct whistling noise that fills the air. That noise serves as the Revenants true cue to action, a sudden surge of electrical energy surging up in Kasyrs' immediate vicinity. That agony which ever accompanies the invocation of his abilities is pushed to the back of his mind, even as patchwork patches of flesh along his arm are ionized- reduced to crackling energy, the ensuing wounds slowly staining the sleeves of his shirt. The trade is worth it however, a literal-lightning quick degree of alacrity granted to the Kensai as he tears forward towards the cluster-fu.. (you get the picture) of vampires, effectively lancing straight into one and pinning it to the ground. It's about this point that the Kensai reaches over to his coat, steps on the face of the one he's pinned and to tugs his borrowed blade clear of its fleshy sheathe. "Thanks for holding this." And then the Revenants moving again, blurring clear of the position he'd been crouched (with his coat in tow), and quite narrowly skittering clear of the barrage of metal that shreds the area apart. By this point, the Kensais' simply focused upon the defensive- effectively abusing the mobility provided by his mimicry of a lightnings strike, the gradual dissipation of flesh into energy the lesser of two evils in the Revenants opinion. It's only when the Kensai hears -another- Salvo that he bothers to stare up towards the source, before he promptly kicks off the ground, and puts the momentum granted by his peculiar technique to send himself hurtling straight up- and out of the way of both explosive barrage and raging black beast. It's about that point that the Kensai simply lets his wings take over, and all that accumulated static energy discharge.

Dulcinea concentrates on the healing, feeling the flesh knit beneath her hands. The healer would lose all sense of herself and track of time while repairing Muraski's wounds. The glow flares brightly between her fingers and around her hands as the session comes to an end before quickly disappearing. Slowly Dulci sits back on her heels, pulling her hands away from the vampire and flexing her fingers. Lingering tendrils of power remained with her and she could feel her powers reaching out to the fallen vampire she had accidentally stabbed. She was taken aback as Mura uses her as a prop to stand, not even having the time to shrink away from him in surprise. Quick movements from strangers...not usually good. But he leaves her as soon as he's up, turning to her patient and without so much as blinking, kills him. In something Dulci would later describe as 'vast misuse of personal resources.' Gasping, her gaze darts between the crossbow wielding ex-patient and the now very-dead vamp on the ground. "W-why..." Before she can even finish that statement, Mura would issue orders and an introduction all in one go. Frowning, she jumps as a loud explosion sounds over to her left. She's so distracted by the destruction that she doesn't even flinch when she's helped up by her patient. "Oh! D-dulcinea. N-nice to meet y-you, S-s-sir. I w-won't." She seems rather leery of his reaction to her helpful healing and quickly she sidled backwards a couple steps, trying to put ground between them. And there was the way he was staring at her...like she was a giant steak and he was starving. A unfamiliar female voice pipes up and Dulci reaches up to grab her neck, giving the vampire a worried look. But the chaos going around them takes her attention again and she watches the airship and what she was pretty sure was Kasyr tear through the mass of bodies. So much destruction and death, sad to behold.

Ranok || By now, the airship had stopped its bombardment. It was too confusing. Banking his knowledge of Kasyr, the movements of troops, and the deadness of most of the combatants, he figured a little friendly fire wouldn't go amiss. By now the ship's flag was raised: The symbol of The Fold shone forth in the murky darkness, in a quite literal fashion. The fabric shone. Underneath it was the symbol that Ranok used as his own: a compass rose intermixed with the image of Sol. Hopefully, that would tidy up who's side he was on. At the very least, Kas wouldn't probably attempt to engage the airship. Not many folks had them, and even fewer still took them on joyrides. Leaning over the railing, Ranok was glowering, "Jegus, dat vent to a Charlie Foxtrot really fast." Time for a different tact, then. Perhaps a little more precision, then? But undead versus undead...Ranok wasn't happy. Unfortunately, he couldn't really go awhere but down. How to express unhappiness when you've already settled on 'blowing it all up'? A new tactic is settled on: killsteal Kasyr. Ranok figured whatever earned the kensai's ire *probably* deserved it, and if not, well...it was his time anyways. This settled upon, the cannons take a much slower, and much louder approach. Longbowmen, too, on deck. The airship sinks slightly, to perhaps about a hundred meteres or so in the air. Only elven accuracy would see wood meet its mark, but that wasn't the primary approach, here. All of a sudden, Kas would find himself amidst a constantly exploding landscape, undead and bodyparts flying in delicate bombdarments. Watchmen mark it out, and then it probably dies in rather short order. This saves on ammo, and maintains less friendly fire. At the cost of Kasyr having a constant ringing in his ears, no doubt, but knowing the kensai's love of showboating, the image of killing things while things blow up around him is probably going to earn Ranok Kas' forgiveness. Ranok was cutting back on friendly fire, such as it was, but probably couldn't eliminate it entirely. Bows are pinpoint accurate, shells...not so much.

Katya laughs "Maybe later. I have more vampires to be killing. Is fun!" The elven mercenary turns to Dulcinea "Darling, I am Katya. You are healer? Cuts are only minor, but while opportunity is presenting, is best I am slowed down as little as possible by injury with big fight ahead, da? I am being grateful for healing, unlike some"

Katya shows the clawmarks on her left arm, and the cut on her ribcage. "There, darling. Are you having name?"

Redhale continued his charge along the bridge, spilling friend and foe alike over the edge, crushing combatants beneath carriage-sized paws and sweeping the odd unfortunate figure up in gaping jaws, their flailing bodies allowing the outline of large gnashing teeth to be seen, though given the quality of meat present all of them were spat out soon enough. While it was hard to tell from either end of the bridge due to the fact that from any given angle the apparition appeared flat he was quickly advancing upon the western side, having broken through the line of his own men and into what was left of the vampires, many of whom had turned about to run only to find their flight cut short by the endless swinging of the minotaurs at in their way. Redhale probably would have continued to charge right into them himself if his hulking form hadn't been struck by canon fire. From the ship it would likely appear that the hit had done nothing but enrage the beast, as the fire found nothing to cling to on its shadowy form, though other angles might have afforded viewers a glimpse of reaction as the area momentarily lit up seemed to shrink away from the explosion, creating a dip in the silhouette which slowly filled back in. Apparently having had enough of the airship antics Redhale decided to abandon his form, so while those brave enough to approach the being were offered a few short seconds to hack pointlessly at his feet the illusionist's apparition shrunk back down to slowly reveal his regular form so that he might shield what was left of the bridge from further bombardment by unaffiliated (as far as either side here was concerned) foes.

Ranok really hopes Redhale took an insurance policy out on that bridge.

Muraski just kinda shuffled on away from the scene as he had done his use, for now, he'd just kinda shuffle on thatta way.

Dulcinea eyes the injuries Katya points out, easily catching the threads of her power that were still around and metaphysically pulling them back into her body. The energy built up inside the healer, even as she rubs her hands together feeling that spreading warmth tingle down her arms and into her hands. One hand goes to Katya's arm and the other to her midsection, just barely hovering above the wounds. Concentrating hard, she sends her healing magics into the female, responding only once she's sure its working. "D-dulcinea. Is m-me."

Katya smiles "Thanking you, Dulcinea. If you can be keeping me alive through this, there will be bonus for you!" Katya then starts to concentrate on the pattern of the airship's bombardment, relieved that the giant shadowbeast has vanished, but still concerned about the possibility of being spread out over Vailkrin if a shell landed in her vicinity.

Kasyr is, admittedly, quite enamoured with theatrics- possibly a side effect of his 'heroic' upbringing.. though it's more likely that the particularily exaggerated levels it reached were due to Daedria's influence upon him. Theatrics fit well within drama, after all. It's for this reason that, beyond a brief fist shake in Ranoks general direction for the original bombardment, the Kensai simply folds his wings in, and dive bombs back towards the far end of those retreating figures. Really, he's just going to full on bodily tackle one of them, for an improvised landing pad, before rolling off his body, and proceeding to help mop up those individuals which hadn't managed to get clear of the area. By this point, simple swordsmanship would no doubt suffice.

Ranok || The airship stops firing again. Saving a little something for later, one could suppose. Still, no men are airdropped into the fray. They looked like they could handle it. A flagsmen uses semaphores to signal the airship's intent, that being 'disengaging, patrolling, ready for combat'. Kas would probably be the only one who knew what the heck the flags meant, though. Beyond that, cleanup was left to the poor sods on the ground.

Dulcinea finishes healing Katya, stepping quickly away from the crazed woman with a worried look. The healer had a feeling that it would be easier said than done to keep her alive. Her gaze transfers to the battle once more and she watches the air bombardment and that odd flying figure that she was sure is her ex-boss.

Redhale was poised to shield the remains of his men from further fire when the airship began to inexplicably (to him at least) pull away. An unpleasant, grating sigh was given before he moved to leave the area, either believing his men were capable of finishing things off or too disappointed in them to care what they did. Of the enemies left those who had been enthralled curiously swayed away from him while only two vampires worked up the courage to swing a weapon in his direction, both of whom seemed to be carried by their own momentum forwards into the robed mass and were never seen again. The dark man's mood would be apparent from his prickly aura, if his ignoring of everyone present wasn't enough, and any smart person would probably avoid him for a while afterward; with the sudden defect in soldiers it was unlikely he would need much reason to "find" some more bodies.

Ranok is on an airship.

Dulcinea is doing what a Dulci does best?

Kasyr supposes murdering idiots is fairly accurate to one of the things Kas does best. Speaking therein, the kensai casually gut punches a vampire, before curling an arm about his neck, and gut stabbing him until it stops rewarding him with mewling whimpers. It's only then that he drops the carcass, the stolen-sword simply left stuck in his victims stomach, and casually begins to walk away, "Well. Parleying failed." Statement. Obvious.