RP:Umbrage and Ashes

Summary: Kasyr and Ayras go for a moonlit stroll through the dark forest but when some feral lycans get involved things start to get messy. The Warden of the Dark Forest, Quintessa Dragana, soon arrives to intervene and discovers more than she expected. Together, Kasyr and Quintessa defeat the entitiy residing in Ayras but the vampire does not survive the ordeal. It was all self defense.

Dark Twisted Path

This path leads through the forest's haunting and constricting trees. The smell here is nauseating, almost like something has died and rotted away in the night. Along the ground are more spiders webs, and you see various cocoon like objects hanging from the tree branches. For some reason you feel you are being hunted, and should probably move on. You think that one could easily get lost if they didn't pay attention in these woods.

Kasyr , not for the first time, is regretting his ongoing investment in the city of the dead. It's not the tedium of it's politics, or the pettiness inherant in the violence associated with them that is plaguing the man at this moment, however. Rather, it's the fact that he's once more found himself residing in the dead city, and this time as a mortal with a pulse- something which makes the treks to and from the dark forest a wretched experience every time. "Welcome to my parlour, et quoi-ce-soit, right?' The humour of the comment is lost on the giant spider he's facing, in part due to the language difference between the two- but mostly because it has a silver edged katana buried to the hilt into it's brain. It's not quite settled on being dead, however, it's legs twitching forward in spastic motions- at least until a delayed burst of fiery energy begins to engulf the blades edge, almost immediately boiling it's brain within it's exoskeleton, before catching the rest of the body alight. "Now just to hope there's nothing looking for dinner et a show."

Ayras : It certainly wasn't looking for dinner and a show, but a werewolf was soon bounding out of the darkness into the light cast by the flames eating away at Kasyr's latest kill. The beast stopped to eye the kill and the killer before it lifted its nose to the air, sniffing. It let out a howl before it lunged, but it did not seem like it was intending to fight the kensai; there was a desperation in its movements, as though Kasyr were merely an obstacle in the way. What could be driving the wolf in such a way was unclear until the shadows of the forest began to warp and shift, veritably exploding as a redheaded figure coalesced to drop atop the brute mid-leap. Claws of shadow wrapped around its head, the fleshy hand within holding fast to the werewolf's skull as though it were a precious trophy. "I've been looking for you," the redhead growled, a voice so cold that its feminine tone seemed ill-fitted to it. With a squeeze of her hand, the shadow claws sank into the wolf's head, crunching bone and piercing gray matter. The beast bucked and writhed in its death throes, but Ayras was never dislodged. It wasn't until the creature lay still that she lifted those strange eyes of hers, silver discs floating in black oceans settling upon Kasyr and his spider. "I thought I heard your weird dialect out here. Fair warning; there's still one more of these things lurking somewhere in the forest."

Kasyr can't help the manner in which his lips purse at the sight of the wolf, whatever mild bit of triump he was feeling in that moment cut short as his bleak sense of humour proves prophetic. "Good puppy?" The howl seems to serve well enough as an answer, the swordsman pouring a fresh reserve of energy into the still embedded Katana, giving the steel a distinct ember glow. . . as well as enabling the blade to part through creatures exoskeleton like it was butter. But before Kasyr can finish leveling the blade in front of himself, the wolfs been violently lobotomized, and there's someone new and spooky present "That's nice . . .? You know, I have an address, and an office, even." Sure, there's some ominous and probably threatening rustling going on in the direct environs, as something(s) are scrabbling about looking for the ideal vantage point for an ambush, but the Kensai is busy being completely baffled, and a little incredulous at the situation. There's something familiar though. Something he should probably know going on, in fact. "...It's not a weird dialect, thank tu very much." Do werewolves chitter? Because there's -chittering- now, though it seems to be coming from the foliage above, as opposed to the ominous crinkle of leaves and long dead wood which emanates from aroudn them.

Ayras rose to her feet, shifting her gaze upward as the skittering sounds begin to make themselves apparent. "It -is- a weird dialect, thank -you- very much, Kasyr," she replied even as the black veins beneath her skin writhed in anticipation. The death knight extended her arm to the side, and once again the shadows bent to her - or, perhaps, Everys' - will to summon forth her adamantine-and-mithril great sword. "As for your home or office or whatever it is, I've never known where you lived. Not even when you were married to Satoshi." Was it a trick of the light, or was the woman's ash-tinted skin turning blacker? "Shut up, Everys, I hear it. Let the grown ups talk." She shook her head before leveling her eyes back onto the kensai. "You know, for a woman who claims to be the baroness of a House located in these woods, you'd think this Quintessa girl would have a better hold on her domain from the creepy-crawlies."

Kasyr is trying his best to inconspicuously scrutinize the woman in front of himself, but the everpresent gloom of the forest doesn't really make it easy, even with an arachnid-based bonfire to provide some much needed illulimation."A chronic lack of direction? That sounds like a personal problem. Or a lack of invitation, enfin." The ensuing shrug also helps to provide Kasyr with an excuse to turn, if only so the way in which his face was currently scrunching up is less discernible. "Whose Everys? Et wait, Quintessa?" Something's starting to click inside the Kensai's mind, something that curious woman Joan had said when she was in the midst of delivering supplies to Quintessa, and which had later been echoed by his student. Wordlessly, he pulls his goggles up and over his eyes, relying on the latent enchantments that were tailored to the Underdarks abyssal depths to provide him a clearer image of his surroundings, and the woman- while his empathic senses reach out and pinpoint the curious sense of familiarity that's now there, "You have business with the most recent arrival to Vailkrins unfortunate aristocracy, I take it?" A sense of familarity that is also making the swordsman mildly regretful he's not in a tavern where there's windows handy.

Ayras was by this point, in fact, mostly black and looked more like a redheaded drow than an elf, but there was no mistaking that hair. The rest of her likely looked different, though, what with the fact that she had boobs. And she probably looked different when not flying through a tavern window. No one else had hair -that- shade of red. "Everys is Everys," was her oh-so-helpful reply to that particular inquiry. "And yes, you could say I have business with the baroness. Everys will enjoy chewing on her bones." She was trying to listen to the scuttling and chittering sounds that were becoming more restless in the treetops, trying to count, but by Vakmatharas those spiders didn't like to stay put. She began to pull the shadows about herself, but whether to run or fight was anyone's guess. "How long will that fire burn, Kas?"

Kasyr gives Ayras a flat expression, which seems to last the entire length of when the elf starts talking about 'Everys' and her future diet plans- only settling when the subject changes towards their current predicament. "Without stoking it, J'en sais pas. I can't imagine spiders burn long. I could -make- it brighter, but that might attract the resident dryad. I say resident in airquotes, but, you know." There's an additional bonus to the Kensai reaching out with his empathy as he plays 'Guess who' internally- and that's the fact that it also helps to pin down the approximate location of the werewolf, which had by this point circled their peripherary, and was now hunched down, all but poised to lunge towards the elf, "So, is this a Larewen thing, another house thing, ou, a ... " It just fits so perfectly there, that homicidal intent, and clicks the rest of it together for the swordsman. "Hamlet thing. Et is that why that wolf seems so intent on tu." The lycan, for it's part, does an absolutely admirable job of holding still when addressed, failing to raise to any provocation intended or merely perceived- waiting for a lapse in lighting, or readiness from the elf. The things lurking in the foliage, however, are less inclined to refrain, however- and they begin to slowly descend on threads of unnaturally thick spider silk, hanging at the peripherary of the light, and waiting for the carcass of smouldering brethren to die out.

Ayras gave that trademark smirk of hers, finally. "Yes, no, and yes," came the answer to each guess in kind. "Took you longer than I expected to work that out." Her voice was getting louder as she spoke, however, as the voice inside her head got more and more insistent. "The wolf, though, just wants revenge. That," she motioned to the creature beneath her, "was the last of its pack. I suspect that last one is the alpha. For the love of the gods, shut up Everys!" That was the moment the wolf, at least, was waiting for. A hand went to Ayras' head and the tip of her sword dipped towards the ground, and a howl split the night air. The reverberations in the spider webs above were not likely to help matters, agitating to the spiders as they would be. Of course, as the alpha leapt from the shadows the fire went out. Of course it did. Because that was Ayras' luck, lately.

Kasyr isn't quite sure what to make of the vampire, because there's something -distinctly- off about them. Beyond the usual, anyways, since the murderous intent was more or less par for the course with them. The swordsman doesn't have long to contemplate what peculiar ailment is plaguing the elf, however- if only because the foliage has borne fruits. And it's all spiders, because, of course, it's Vailkrin. Kasyr, at least, has the protection provided by his armoured trenchcoat, so when the first of those abominable archnids descends from the tree and lashes out to bite at him- he provides it a meal, cramming his right arm down to the elbow into it's gullet so it's teeth clamp down on a combination of mithril mesh, preklek plating and leather. Though perhaps 'providing a sloppy tracheostomy' might have been more accurate, considering that Kasyr never relinquished his blade- whose blazing hot edge has now emerged from it's horrible chittering head. It squirms, writhes, and ultimately burns- but even the fresh promise of flames aren't even to keep away it's siblings, one moving to pounce onto the swordsmans back and pin him under it's weight, while another joins in- seeking to nip at exposed flesh. And currently being denied as the swordsman pulls his left hand into his sleeve and plays turtle for a moment, "Not. my. best. plan." Comparitively, Ayras' doesn't quite have as much to deal with- as the Lycan which now bears down towards him has done an adequate job of scaring away most of those 8 legged predators as it charges forward to gut the elf. Mostly, since there's still one more than willing to drop down directly on top of her, in an effort to impair her in a similar way to the Kensais predicament.

Quintessa drifts through the shadows between the trees like the cold winter breeze, her presence hidden among the already dark and creepy aura of the forest itself. Not much happened in the Dark Forest without the warden Quintessa, self proclaimed as she might be, hearing about it. Word spread quickly among the undead scouts that watched the baroness's demesne, and they had reported the violence against the denizens of the Dark Forest with haste. The changeling was quick to respond but had not yet made herself known. "Kasyr and Ayras?" She mouths, breathlessly. Why were they speaking together like this? Hadn't Quintessa already told him that she was enemies with this woman? The shadowed form of the hex blade lingers in the tree line, not quite hidden but easily overlooked as her mismatched eyes survey the exchange. "Lycans..." she whispers to herself, looking at the savaged corpse on the ground. Had Ayras been killing the local werewolf population without her knowing about it? This was most troubling for her. Idly, her left hand comes up to grip the hilt of her new katana. Quintessa hadn't had a chance to test it out yet and was starting to get the itch to but she reluctantly resists the urge to charge in. She wanted to eavesdrop a bit longer on this conversation a bit longer and watch to see how Ayras would fight against an alpha lycan.

Ayras had already dropped to her knee before the spider had decided to drop upon her, so it was easy enough for it to smash upon her back and wrap those eight angry legs around her. It tried to bite into her, to send its venom through her veins, but there was something keeping those fangs from making purchase. That something, perhaps, was probably whatever was making her blackened skin ripple. She struggled to her feet in time to be bowled over by the charging lycan. A growl rumbled through the vampire as her eyes followed suit of her skin and filled with black, daggers stared into the wolf's face. It was with a primal roar that the redheaded woman exploded, almost quite literally, the blackness from her skin growing outward before tearing away from the death knight. It, alone, was enough to push both lycanthrope and spider off of the fallen vampire. When she rose, it was not just Ayras that stood there, great sword held ready in hand, but a great, shadowy figure protruded from her back. Its body was sinewy and misshapen, and with claws that might look awfully familiar to Kasyr after Ayras' entrance showed that this thing was a threat in its own right. Ayras, for her part, was no longer black-skinned, and with the fury of a woken dragon she charged the lycan alpha. Too bad for her the shadow thing didn't follow, instead tearing itself free from Ayras' body to haunt after the spider. Ayras got a whopping one swing in before Everys removed himself from his host. He tore into the spider as Ayras gasped with pain. He was pulling legs from the spider's body as the vampire's body began to tremble and collapse. As Kasyr thought, there was something -very- off about Ayras, and the lycan was going to take full advantage of it; a single gash across its chest was not enough to keep the beast from coming in again, claws bared. It was, however, going to enjoy itself after what Ayras did to its pack. Instead of killing the vampire outright, it slowly, agonizingly sank its claws into Ayras' chest.

Kasyr can feel what he can only assume is spider drool soaking into his clothes, a nauseatingly sticky mess of the stuff seeping onto his skin as the spider on his back chomps and gnaws at his trenchcoat in search of protruding fleshy bits. Not for the first time, the swordsmans left grateful for his overly large trenchcoat (despite popular belief that it's a fashion faux pas), especially as the other spider jabs a limb at one of his legs and comes into contact with yet more of the long coat. What he's -not- grateful for, is the fact that the spider which had chomped onto his arm had clenched onto his limb with a literal death grip. Unfortunately, his current predicament leaves him unable to get the leverage needing to pull away, which leaves plan B - magical shenanigans. Of the more subtle sort, admittedly- as the swordsman begins to pour a rather particular bit of spellcraft into his blade, building up a rather keen and resoance not unlike scraping glass, which only seems to build in intensity as the swordsman maintains the ennchantment. To wit, his plan's more or less to blow apart the spider he'd impaled with a rapidly growing well of sonic energy- and maybe just play complete havoc with the ear drums (and associated sense of balance) of just about every creature present as their ear drums are assaulted. Which might be especially notable to the Lycanthrope, whose enjoyment of an easy kill is about to be unduly interrupted by what can be undoubtedly described as the worlds worst dog whistle.

Ayras screamed in agony from the vibrations caused by Kasyr's magic. It wasn't necessarily the pitch, itself - which was, of course, excruciating to her sensitive hearing - but the lycanthrope's violent reaction to the pitch. It had jerked, rending a great gash into the vampire's chest as it arched backwards, hands lifted to its ears as it howled. Both vampire and lycan were writhing in their spots, Ayras too weak to overcome the audible ailment and the alpha just too sensitive. But they were barely affected compared to the shadow-thing. The magical dissonance set his form on edge, very nearly causing his body to melt into a formless mass, to revert to how he was before he inhabited the former spellblade. He floated more than walked his way over to Kasyr, leaving the now legless spider behind to die its own death, a shadowy arm extended to wrap around the carapace on the former Revenant's arm. Jagged, sharp talons squeezed into the spider's body, tearing it free from the head that was still bitten onto Kasyr's arm. Surely he thought that would end the vibrations, but no one ever said Everys was smart. That would be made even more pointedly clear when an electrical surge burst from Ayras' body into the lycanthrope. She was on her knees, finally, panting and weak, but on her knees. She was weak, but she could feel -magic- again. It crackled from her in its typical form, electrical energy coalescing up and down her limbs, her body. It wasn't as powerful as it once was, but in her current state, neither was she. Especially not with the blood flowing copiously down the front of her dress.

Quintessa narrows her eyes as she watches the fight go on. This was all very interesting to the changeling, and she was torn between wanting to join in the fun and wanting to stand back a collect more information. Still, her slender fingers grip tightly around the hilt of her katana as her free hand flips her invisibility cloak over her shoulder. If she was to be involved in the fight at some point she very much would be ready for it. For now, Quintessa is content with watching, certain that her master, Kasyr, is quite capable of handling himself without the intervention of the hex blade. Though she remains hidden, she makes a conscious effort to reach out to him with her aura, a small tendril of her affection to let him know she was watching him. Kasyr always seemed to notice in the past. Ayras is given less attention. The woman's safety wasn't exactly something she was concerned about, so her being on the losing side of the fight only gave her grim amusement.

Kasyr can feel the chitinous exoskeleton of the spider fracturing around his arm, rupturing apart from the sheer intensity of the hheld enchantment. Which is helpful, but not quite as much as the weight of the spiders body being abruptly removed from himself as Ayras' tenebrous companion rends it's body asunder in a brutal display. There's a part of the swordsman that considers allowing it to come to an end there, especially in the face of the state of his...colleaguue before him. But there's a hint of something familiar, a tinge of someone far more difficult to mistake that's present, which makes the decision for Kasyr.Instead, the Kensai's first act is try and roll on his back, the arachnid that had been perched atop him providing little in the way of resistance, if only because it's sheer proximity is leaving certain vital organs now in the process of oscillating and vibrating in ways that are unanimously unhealthy. And which are made all the worse as Kasyr drags the edge of his blade against it's legs- collapsing it into the path of the spider that had at one point been hassling the swordsman, and which was now spastically wriggling in place. "I think- " The words come out overly loud, but for the life of him, Kasyr is having the hardest time hearing himself, in part because of his own enchantment, but also because his ears are busy bleeding from yet another self inflicted wound. "..nevermind! You wouldn't appreciate it, anyways!" Which one? Ayras and the lycan are both captive audiences. Though the lycan is less inclined to remain so, if only because out of sheer desperation, it's now trying to crawl away from the dismal noise that has all but consumed its senses.

Ayras had a grim determination written on her face. The lycan was trying to flee. Again. "Stupid," she growled as she used her sword to slowly lift herself from her knees. "Flea bitten," she continued as she gathered the magical energies that coursed through her again like the lifeblood that was draining from her chest. "Mongrel!" Eternal night turned to temporary day as the lightning surged forward, crawling along any and every surface no matter its conductance. One spark nipped at the lycan, then another, and another, until every high-voltage tendril surged through the beasts body. As white light faded to darkness - and vision for all around, surely, was ruined - all that was left of the alpha was a charred shape of what a passerby might have mistaken for a withered and misshapen log. Blinded and half deafened, Ayras could only turn and wonder whether she was even facing the rest of the fight.

Quintessa cannot help but grin, her mismatched eyes and sharp teeth gleaming from the tree line in the light of Ayras' magic. With the creatures of the forest defeated, she saw no other reason to stay here other than to figure out what this shadow being was and spy on her beloved Kasyr. The hex blade lifts the hood of her cloak over her head before uttering the word "Anweledig." and the magical incantation of her cloak causes the changeling to fade from view completely. Quintessa begins to focus her mana into her invisibility spell, causing her aura to suddenly retreat back to her body to fuel the cloak's enchantment. So far, her instinct to watch in silence and learn what she could was paying off.

Kasyr s close connection to that very same element as Ayras is the only thing which spares his eyes, as he finds himself intuitively shutting his eyes with the rapid rise in static charge.And even then, he can still perceive the world blazing brightly from behind his eyelids. The spiders on the other hand, are not so fortunate, their myriad eyes simply providing them additional retinas to burn out, filling the air with baleful shrieks not evenn the severance of a leg had induced.With a blind desperation, the one which was of yet unwounded moved to draw itself back up those webs it had descended on, with it's compatriot starting to do the same. Only, it's lacking legs make the action far slower, and is it seeks to ascend back into the safety of the foliage, Kasyr finally manages to get his legs beneath him again- a few quick strides taking him just close enough that he can swipe it's belly open, leaving it to dangle on it's own thread as it's bursting viscera spills out onto the forest floor. Then, and only then does that dreadful keening finally halt. "Can you hear? More importantly, can tu hear me?" Kasyr pauses for a moment to inwardly nod to himself, because he can at least hear himself, and that's always important. A Tuatha de denann scampered into view from the north.

Ayras heard...well...something. Everything sounded like she was leagues underwater. A hand went to her ear and came away wet. Well, wasn't that splendid. Kasyr actually -did- burst her eardrums. At least her vision was returning, likely due to the fact that she stared at her own magic long enough before that she was used to sudden brightness. Everything was light and dark, though, negative and positive spaces. She felt like she had gone back into that cursed shadow cocoon. At least what she could see let her know that there were only two moving creatures left in the battlezone, and one of them was none-too-happy about the light. Everys was lashing out at nothing and everything, his vision most of all having been affected by the sudden daylight. One of them was saying something, but everything sounded like a Charlie Brown adult. All she could do was stagger forward and sort of ready her weapon. Gods be damned, she hadn't realized just how much Everys had been keeping her alive. Her nerves were on fire. She almost expected that she was; everywhere that hurt was either where the lycan had stabbed her tonight, or where the dragon had burned her before the Shadow Realm. She wanted to cry. She wanted to collapse. Instead, she screamed a blood-curdling scream - oh hey, she could hear that - and lashed out with her sword. She wasn't sure which shadow she was striking at. Whichever one was on her right, she supposed. Who was taller, she wondered, Kasyr or Everys?

Quintessa slowly drifted closer, maintaining her composure and not immediately reacting when she thought Kasyr was in danger. The changeling recalled her blunder in the Underdark during the Razurath occupation, of acting too hastily in the middle of a sensitive operation and ruining everything. It was not something she planned on repeating. Instead she decided to sneak closer to the kensai, to take his side in secret and reveal herself when Ayras would least expect it. Spike-tipped heels bring Quintessa closer, small imprints in the fallen leaves and mud appearing as her invisible form meanders to close the distance between them. Even invisible and concentrating on her magic, the hex blade's hand remains on her weapon, ready to strike a moment's notice.

Kasyr has for many years been griefed for the fact that he'd been perpetually shorter than most of the other individuals in the so-called 'heroing' business. The fact that 'I thought you'd be taller' was an epithet he'd not been subjected to for quite some time had perhaps been one of the biggest boons of his rediscovery of mortality- right alongside being able to coast through life being perpetually wasted. It's a little bit less advantageous when it blurs the line between himself and Everys to the point he's only a smidge taller than the latter. "Fff-" The Kensais largest advantage in that moment had been the sheer blind recklessness behind the attack, making the prospect of lurching backwards out of it's arc a far more tenable prospect than it might have been otherwise. "-ck is wrong with tu?!" Letting out a breath he snaps back into a proper standing position, his sword flicking out in front of himself with enough violence that the gore on it goes sailing off towards the elven vampire. It's a little petty, but between that and a small pulse of electrical energy, it serves well enough to clean the blade that it can be returned to it's sheathe. "Beyond the usual."

Ayras felt her sword bite into the ground. Whoever she had swung at, she missed. From the way that blur moved, she was guessing it wasn't a shadow creature who decided to renege on a deal. That made things easier. Or, at least, she thought it would. She tried to pull her sword from the ground, but her strength had fled. She was as weak as after the battle with the dragon. Weaker, perhaps. She tried to rise, to ready more magic, but all she could do was collapse next to her impaled sword. Everys, for his part, swung on Kasyr, as he was the only clear threat present. It was a strange sound that the shadow creature emitted, something between a roar and the rending of the universe, as it slipped in and out of sight, flitting from one shadow to another in attempt to confuse the kensai. Predictably, however, it wound up behind the former vampire with its lengthy shadow claws rending downward in a rather straightforward slash.

Quintessa circles the battlefield slowly, a new plan formulating in her mind as she avoids the shadow creature. She was curious about whatever it was and how it was able to slip in between the shadows but she wasn't about to make her self known just yet. Instead, Quintessa approaches the fallen body of Ayras and kneels down next to her, the invisibly spell fading as she does so. The slow, cruel sound of her katana dragging across the opening of her sheath can be heard as the hex blade prepares to threaten the vampire before her. "Can you still speak?" Quintessa asks in a low voice, mismatched eyes flickering from the bout between Kasyr and Everys and the woman on the ground. "Make one wrong move and it'll be your last," the odd girl's blade hangs over Ayras' neck, ready to make good on her threat. "What is this thing and how do we subdue it?" If Quintessa doesn't get an answer soon she'll simply leave the vampire where she lie and move to silently flank the shadow monster. Kasyr could handle this, sure, but this was a chance to fight along side him like she always dreamed about doing. How does one kill a shadow though?

Kasyr for his part, is doing his best to hold his ground, maintaining his ready position even as that tenebrous creature voices it's displeasure. There's a sinister sense of the familiar carried in the dissonance of it's voice, harkenening to the aberrant din that had once filled Vailkrins streets when a hole in the world had been opened up by cultists. When it slips into the shadows, the swordsman doesn't even try to follow it's erratic motions, instead trusting in his empathic senses to hone in on the murderous intent of the creature to better pinpoint it. Even as it beards down on his position, the swordsman seems content enough to simply mutter under it's breath as the dinstance betwee himself and Everys fades into nothing. But then, the Kensai has often favored minimalism when he's able to, and the current battlefield has provided him a slick spread of viscera that he can use to abruptly twist himself towards the creature when it's on the verge of reaching him. Rather then yielding flesh or an armoured trenchcoat, it's claws are met with the Kensais sheathed blade- the sword squealing beneath the initial impact, and only growing more pitched as the Kensai moves to direct the creatures strike to the side. Ayras might find a weird sort of relief in the fact that the noise dies far more abruptly than it might have otherwise, though the queer energy surrounding the sheathe, and the manner it seems to almost reverbrates in Kasyrs hands might be cause for concern. Then again, she has other problems right now, doesn't she?

Ayras was in no condition to answer Quintessa. The poor elf woman, she was becoming disfiguring. She was melting. Flesh bubbled and drooped on her left side, the skin from her lower face, neck, and upper chest having taken on the appearance of a used candle. There was agony beyond agony, but Ayras was beyond screaming, beyond making any sort of sound. But Everys, he was more than able to move and...well, not talk, but make noises. The magic he had fed off for the past year had given him a strength beyond what his size and physical composition should have afforded him. His first strike was thwarted, but he was unperturbed. He had bided his time inside a body not his own, had put up with the depravity of a wanton murderer, had been forced to sit in on thoughts of stuffing him inside a sword for all eternity. A single misplaced move was nothing. He kept at it, claws swiping this way and that, shadow walking when it suited him to strike from another angle. The shadow creature, though not exactly the most intelligent creature in the world, seemed content to wait out Kasyr's stamina. Should that fail, the shadow creature had an ace up its sleeve.

Quintessa's mismatched eyes take in Aryas' melting, broken form as a small frown soon joins them. "How unfortunate." There were many things the changeling had wanted to probe Aryas for, some for academic reasons, some for the sheer joy of cutting something open and labeling the parts. This went deeper, however, as Quintessa had seen something raw and useful within the aura of the vampiric elf that she could not put into words. "Such wasted potential..." Perhaps it would not all be wasted. Moving in to join the fight between Kasyr and Everys, the swordswoman brought her blade out to the side to more easily gain momentum as she prepares a new spell she'd been working on to fight the Drow. Now would be the perfect time to practice it. "Avert your eyes!" Quintessa calls to Kasyr, sliding to a halt behind the shadow monster. "Haul yn..." She raises her sword up, a bright light building at the tip of her sword until- "Byrstio!" The light explodes into a sun burst as the hex blade brings her katana down, trying to dispel whatever entity had been summoned here. Such details about Everys' existence were foreign to Quintessa, so she had no idea what she was dealing with, but she at least knew to fight darkness with light. It was a clear type advantage, surely, and as her spell goes off less than a meter away from the shadow creature, she hopes it'll be too close to dodge as well.

Kasyr's not entirely surprised when the creature barely wastes a moment in shifting it's tactics from a precise ambush, to a relentless onslaught. For the moment, however, the Kensai does not seem to have any intention of shifting his tactics either, the entirety of his focus honed in meeting and redirecting each of those strikes as they come in, despite the violent scream of metal that comes from both his sheathe and the blade within. The beasts unnatural strength resonates through the Kensais arms on each strike, and yet, he maintains his stalwart defense- the fatigue and shock of the collisions taxing him far slower than they ought to, courtesy of the well of strength he can pull on from Daedria. Unfortunately, his sword has no such unnatural font of strength to draw upon, and despite the fact that the sound of every impact is now carrying a profoundly muted quality, every strike brings a growing threat of the steel finally giving way- and adding itself to the long line of swords the Kensais broken. With a grimace, Kasyr moves to turn on his heel to face Everys as it shifts into the shadows again, only- "Wai- Wha-" He knows better than to keep his eyes open, leaving him with only a split second to try and intuit the arc of Everys claws. And blind flighting a creature that's still in the process of warping is probably not the wisest of choices the swordsmans made today, his attempt at redirecting the blow falling short as it shears off a portion of his sheathe bearing right shoulder. Even as he finds himself dropping to a knee, he can fill his vision explode into spots, some brought on by the burst of light, whilst others accompany the feeling of pain welling up where the claws had rent through. And it only grows more intense as Kasyr shifts the augmentation to his strength and stamina he'd been drawing from Daedria into his sword as he catches his breath. "Stall it!"

Ayras : There was satisfaction as Everys felt his claws slice through the kensai's shoulder. He might have tried to take advantage of the wound, but where there was darkness there was suddenly light, and this time he wasn't facing away from the source. Everys let out a horrid howl and staggered back, those wicked claws brought up to try to shield his eyes. What's a shadow creature supposed to do in a situation like this? Lucky for Everys, there was, in fact, an option. His body stretched thin and seemed to be pulled towards Ayras' failing form. Back into her body he went, only to soak through her pores to cover her body. He moved her like a puppet master, her movements jerky as she hefted that great sword of hers. Ayras became even more jerky as her body was forced forward, until a strange glow covered the woman. That glow made its way into the sword, whereupon the weapon seemed to become harder to look at, as though staring into a void. A wicked grin broke out upon the borrowed face and forward she leapt. There was an aggression even Ayras, herself, had never possessed in the strikes that came, the sword leaving black rends in the air for a short time after each swing. Quintessa, Kasyr, Everys cared little for who the sword might hit. If there was a body in front of him, he was attacking. That was, until he remembered one little secret about that great sword. His hands took hold of the weapon by both hilt and a dulled portion of the blade to split the weapon in two. It might have been a familiar sight to any that had actually witnessed Ayras in combat, before, an elf with a longsword in each hand. A pity it was a sight that was focused against a former ally, this time.

Quintessa growls in contempt as her quarry rejoins with the body of the vampiric elf. She could perhaps purge Ayras of the spirit but that great sword was going to be an issue. Bringing her sword up between herself and Shadow-Puppet-Ayras defensively, Quintessa attempts to bring them to a sword-lock to buy Kasyr time but she is ill prepared for the sheer force that comes behind such an attack. If this was her old sword, it would have shattered and that would have been the end of her, but the Catalian alloys hold up against the powerful blow. The changeling grinds her teeth together as her spiked-heels are driven into the ground and the powered up great sword bites into her right shoulder, unable to stop the attack. Given the circumstances, she was lucky to mitigate the damage this much as it was. As crimson blood drips down her arm and chest, she staggers backwards, shakily bringing up her katana again as one void-sword split into two. "Great." huffs the changeling, her left hand coming down to cast a defensive spell. "Darian iâ!" She shouts as an ice-buckler manifests, floating just above her forearm before she lunges in with a charge. "Slaes golau!" comes next, her katana sparking with pure, solar energy as she aims a series of thrusts at the shadow-puppet. Light had worked the first time, perhaps keeping it up was a good idea.

Kasyr can feel the spots behind his eyes ebbing away bit by bit, even as he continues to use himself as a conduit, amplifying the enchantment within the blade. It had started outsimilar enough to the initial sonic assault the Kensai had subjected everyone in the vicinity to, save that rather than release another cacophonous burst into the clearing- the swordsman had instead sought to contain it for as long as possible, each new impact of sword and claw feeding the enchantment layer after layer of calamitous metallic squeals. An arcane assault that is now beginning to reach it's apex as the influence of Daedria's divine energies begins to arrange what's contained within into a discordant and altogether destructive symphony. Perhaps Everys might fathom that there's something amiss, by either the simple sense of purpose that's consumed the Kensai, or the manner in which the Katana sheathe seems to vibrate apart around the blade - but, perhaps not. In any case, Kasyr now rests poised, waiting to ascertain if the vampiric elf can still slip between shadows withinin the glare of fresh light, or if it's mobility has been since hindered. "Sorry about that."

Ayras graced Quintessa with a grotesque grin, her eyes all glossy shadow and in the gaping holes where dragon fire had destroyed her body Everys' own substance could be seen slithering about. One thing Quintessa might also notice is that where those holes in Ayras' body were, the puppet master was trying his best to keep the light from spilling in. The vampire's body was lunged forward again, but this time only three strikes - and if Quintessa were listening hard enough, she might very well have heard what sounded like a woman shrieking in pain with each strike - were given before the woman backed off, a frown upon her twisted face. She growled at Kasyr, feeling those vibrations from the sheathe more than hearing them. "No more tricks from you," she said, her voice a dual timbre, though unlike previous times it was far more Everys' deep, booming voice than Ayras' lilting tones. She snapped forward, swords striking forth once more towards the kensai, one blade thrusting to either side of Kasyr's torso. A Tuatha de denann scampered into view from the south.

Quintessa brings up her ice buckler to absorb the attacks from Everys, but the first attack cracks her ice-shield so badly that the second one shatters her defenses and cuts right though to her left arm, cutting far deeper than the blow to her shoulder. A loud whimper is all she manages to get out before she drops to her knees in the mud, the spell enchanting her blade fading as she barely parries the last strike. Wounded, and breathing heavily from the bout, Quintessa stares up with desperation forming in her mismatched eyes. She was simply physically outmatched, but she had a few tricks still up her sleeves. The moment that Ayras' eyes left Quintessa, she uttered the words of her invisibility incantation. Trailing blood behind her, she dashes out of her spot in the mud to get a good two meters away before she pivots back, her invisibly cloak furling behind her as her weakened form comes back into view. "I'm not done yet," she proclaims, preparing to pour all of her mana into one last magical attack. "Fflam..." With the last of her strength she brings her sword up, bright flames burning along the edge of the blade. "...fawr..." The area around the changeling dims as her aura saps the energy from the forest itself to fuel her last attack. Quintessa then holds, pooling the fire-starting mana, looking for a good opportunity to deliver it the enemy she and the kensai Kasyr shared. "-ddisglair!!" The hex blade brings the sword down hard, or as hard as she can with her shoulder and arm so wounded, and the bright flames collect into an orange ribbon that tries to trip up and constrict Everys to give Kasyr enough time to end this fight for good.

Kasyr's relatively perceptive, even if his handling of social situations tends to convince people of the opposite, so it's not lost on the swordsman that Everys fondness for flickering between shadows has come to a rather abrupt halt when the shadows in the area were banished. Thus, when Quintessa finds herself slammed down onto the ground, and retreating within the safety of her cloak, the Kensai picks up the slack with a brilliant flare of electrical energy meant to deny Ayras of any last minute shadow steps that might otherwise see her charge become a feint. That said, none of that electrical energy is aimed outwards, as the Kensai has no intention of seeing if they could hypothetically bounce a bolt of lightnig between each other. Instead, the Kensai s' tapping into that primal fount of elemental lightning, sparking up a halo of Ionizing flesh about his person even as Ayras finishes closing the gap. And the vampiric elf is likely familiar with what comes next, even if Everys isn't, as Kasyr s form slides to the Ayras' left side with an unnatural celerity that would seem right at home with Ayras shadow stepping. Even as the Vampiric elf is in the process of finishing his thrust, the Kensais in the process of unsheathing his blade with a thunderous roar- the blade drawn up in a crescent cut that on it's own may have threatened to bisect the elf, and which carried with it that disasterous combination of sonic and holy energy imbued within it, seeking to rupture it's intended target from the inside out. The icing on the cake for this particular maneuver is far more simple, however- if only because the simply redirection of Kasyrs position belies one last little trick. It leaves Ayras flanked.

Ayras had no enemy - was it an enemy? - in front of her. There was supposed to be an enemy there. Instead, she was stabbing into empty air. She still didn't know if it was even an enemy she was being stabbed at. For that matter, she didn't know why she was suddenly a sword. She could have sworn she had a body with a nice butt. Ayras' body was off balance, even with Everys at the helm. Even as he was stumbling forward Quin's spell was going off, wrapping Everys in chains of fire. He might have been able to right himself had it not been for that, but he found himself falling forward and smashing his borrowed face on the ground. That was, perhaps, the only thing that saved him from being split in half, but Kasyr's sword bit well into the broken elven body. He felt the holy power, and for that matter, so did Ayras within the swords - it was, after all, still her body - and both let out terrible screams, although the latter's sounded more like someone perpetually sliding a sword in and out of a sheathe. The holy power alone was enough to nearly finish off the creature, as it well enough did finish off Ayras' physical body to leave a pile of ash on the ground, but the sonic energy tore at Everys' shadow form. Ayras' metallic screaming died away, but Everys' persisted as he wrenched himself this way and that as his body shredded apart into the aether. When finally the creature was gone, all that remained was a pair of adamantine swords laying on the ground reflecting the artificial daylight off of mithril filigree.

Quintessa finally allows her sword fall to the ground, her arm too weak to hold it up, as her spell finally fades away. The chains of fire had sapped her of her last bits of mana and the adrenaline that kept her standing was running dry as well. Still breathing heavily, she steps forward, mismatched eyes glued to the swords on the ground. "Is... is it over?" The hex blade certainly hopes so, another barrage from that shadow-thing would spell the end for her. Cautiously, she closes the distance between herself and the weapons that lie before her. "Ayras' weapon." Quintessa's aura was much too weak to reach out to sense any magic within them but the shiny metal sure caught her eye. "And her prosthetics..." The young mage eyes the left arm on the ground with curiosity strong enough to distract her from the pain. "Do you have any interest in these or shall I take them to House Dragana for further research?"

Kasyr's ears are ringing in the wake of those final moments, to the point that he's not even wholly aware of the manner in which the sword he's been wielding finishes succumbing to the very forces it was channeling and fractures apart within his grasp. It's only after he moves to flex his grip that he realizes his fingers were locked around nothing in particular. "I think . . ." A cursory tug on the empathic strands in the environment pulls out a shock of vived emanations, and yet there's a finality to them, an abruptness in the way they're curtailed and already in the process of fading that has the Kensai decisively answering, "Likely, unless that thing managed to shunt some part of itself elsewhere." The changelings next comment isn't even all that surprising to the Kensai who simply plants his hands into the pockets of his coat, "They'd gather dust under my ownership, Madamoiselle. I ..might want to examine them later, to see if there's anything that makes sense of all this, but otherwise. Well." His lips purse, and he finds himself awkwardly looking up at the foliage of the trees. There wasn't even a faint emanation of fear from anything present anymore. Their entourage had entirely fled the area. "...Mm. So, do I send Hildegarde a letter? Or Lionel. This seems like a lot to explain." Kasyr's already envisioning how well it'll go over too, "...Don't worry. Entirely Justified. Self Defense. More Rabid than usual. Mmm."

Quintessa pulls her cloak from around her shoulders before spreading it on the ground, silently moving the swords and prosthetics onto the leather so it would be easier to lift all at once. It isn't until Kasyr speaks of Lionel that her attention snaps up. "Huh? Hildegarde and Lionel? Did Ayras have business with Frostmaw?" Quintessa doesn't know. Finally she turns to lift her own sword from the ground, returning it to her sheath with a slight wince. "If so, I'll pass on this information on to Lionel personally. I'm sure he'll be interested to hear that his newest recruit helped take her down... Unless you think he'll be cross with me for killing her. What do you think?"

Kasyr looks more pensive than anything, "Ayras used to be part of it's Queensguard, en fait. They'd...seen their fair share of things. It's why I mentioned they're proficient at more than just being spooky. Even if planning es . . ." The mound of ashes is eyed for a moment, before the Kensai amends, "wasn't the most diligent of planners. ...As for mentioning it to Lionel, well. I think he ought to know, peut-etre. I don't know if they both served under Hildegarde at the same time, " Or rather, Kasyr drank enough that he doesn't recall, "But, I don't think he'll have much to say on it." The swordsman ruffles Quintessas hair for a moment, before carefully adding, "Remember. Self defense. it's not even a lie." This time.

Quintessa gives Kasyr a sharp-toothy smile as he ruffles her cropped hair. "Of course, 'self-defense', good idea, Master." She bends down with another wince to grab reach corner of her cloak, folding them over before tying the ends together to make a hobo-pack of the late murder-hobo's things and slinging it over her good shoulder. Quintessa's gaze looks to the ground and the pool of blood forming around her feet and she suddenly realizes why she was feeling so lightheaded. "I'm bleeding out, I think." She says flatly, gazing at the gash in her shoulder and the horrible slice in her forearm, "You know I love lingering around and talking with you but I should head to my manor. Honestly, you should come too. I've learned some new potion techniques that I'd like to put to the test. You'll like the new flavor."

Kasyr supposes it's probably a good thing that he hadn't offered the changeling a post fight tipple of whiskey, considering she's currently in the process of leaking blood everywhere. "Mmm. I think I'll take you up on that hospitality. More to make sure tu don't decide the forest is a good place to take a nap, then so you can try out your potions. Though, I did agree to help tu on that front." And it's on that note that the swordsman sidles up besides her, if only so she has easy access to someone to lean on should she need to. "You know, this is a lot more dignified then the last time something like this happened." There was this plushie full of ashes involved, and it was sent to their loved one. ...Yeah, probably not the time to mention that.

Quintessa leans against the kensai, his support helping her through the forest much appreciated. "As I recall," she says, thinking back to their escape from Trist'oth a month or so ago, "The last time you and I traveled together through the Dark Forest, I had to strap you to Bloodbeak's saddle like a bedroll," She snickers at this, noticeably getting more loopy as her blood trickles down her arms. "Oh, my," she chuckles, noticing the way the world seemed to be getting darker and darker, "We definitely should hurry. No naps on the way, either, I concur. And honestly I should stop rambling too... It makes breathing... Even harder."