Snippet #1543285

Faera at last felt one of her aqueous lashes connect with something, and one of the Legionnaires in the sky- it was hard to differentiate, except she knew that this was not-Qinn- seemed to deal a rather devastating blow to the winged Thane. Unfortunately, both of them landed rather hard afterwards, though she was spared having to see to it by Pel's appearance. Fae managed a smile at the comment about her choice of combat method; it maybe wasn't the time or the place, but she was glad all the same.

Of course, they were all soon reminded that there was not presently any opportunity for rest, and Pel's words immediately set her face back into a grim cast. Fae nodded once; it was not as though she needed to be told a second time to help a friend. She'd thought Beelzes had her confrontation sewn up three ways, but was realizing in retrospect that it was a bad idea to let something like stubborn admiration and confidence in someone else cause you to underestimate an opponent. With the arrival of the constructs, she was freed to move, and she did, bounding over the short distance between herself and the arcane firefight beside her original position.

Granted, she was really starting to feel the fatigue by now, but she'd just have to deal with that. Fae halved the length of her lashes to make them a bit easier to manage (since they were all on the ground this time, it wasn't so bad) and stopped about ten feet from Beelzes, or at a ninety-degree angle to her Silenced foe. Fae had never encountered or even heard of a Silenced before, but she did know that whoever this was, to prove such a challenge to her mentor, they must be skilled. Then again, it seemed to be a common problem at the moment. The warlock's ragged breathing was the only cue Faera needed, though, and she struck without hesitation.

"Hey you!" she called to the Silenced with as much malice as she could muster (which, really, wasn't much at all). "I think you're- you're all washed up!" This was accompanied by a rather empathetic crack from the second whip as it flew at the gnoll's legs. She wondered briefly if that one had been a bit too much, but then sort of shrugged to herself and decided that there were more important things to be done anyway. Like helping Beelzes. And surviving; that one was pretty significant.

---

Somewhere amidst all her carnage, Neira was able to cut a swath through the undead and towards the handy night-light of a cleric and the spear-wielding druid plus Thanaros, who were for the most part quite successfully fending off the zombie-Children. Well. It was hardly any fun when you had the advantage in the elemental Rochambeau, was it? Nevertheless, she did accept that as much satisfaction as one could find in a nice horribly-stacked-against you fight, having the power to essentially flay undead was more likely to end in everyone leaving here alive. Well, everyone who was alive to begin with, anyway.

So she spent a while going about the rather unsportsmanlike business of forcing not-alive-but-moving Children and soldiers into the range of said deific dazzlement, though sometimes she'd go ahead and kill them herself. She also made the useful discovery that trying to use psinoics on them was all but useless. Mindless zombies indeed.

In short enough order, it looked to be about time to wrap this thing up, or at least it seemed so from this side. For them, this meant heading towards Wrath and apparently beating the shit out of whatever he was headed towards. Sounded like a damn good plan as far as she was concerned. They were still missing a few people though. Those two that were always together, Cone and one of the Shanirs, she could make out headed in the right direction, but where had that big idiot who liked to fly off the handle gotten to? Ferka was moving back this way, and joined her (presumably half-) brother, which meant that they were missing the little elf with the large hammer, Caine, and Alistair. The harpy, she knew, would probably have made it to the ranged group already, what with the flying and all. So where the hell were the berserker and the paladin?

More importantly, why did she even care, anyway? It was none of her damn business if they got lost or got dead, anyway. Well... mostly it wasn't. There was objective value in keeping one's allies alive, she supposed. Dead gods forbid she should actually care about any of them. "Right... I'm off to fetch the stragglers, then."

It didn't take long to find Caine, and even less time to figure out what he was doing. A minotaur... it had been a really long time since she'd seen one of those. Weren't they all supposed to be dead by now? Then again, she was pretty sure she'd spotted a gnoll earlier, so who bloody well knew anymore? Of course, the area was still a mess of other undead as well, and it was with an expression of the utmost reluctance (something she did not actually feel) that she drew them away from the main confrontation. "You'd better not be wasting my time, angry man," she told him with a glare, which was basically her way of saying that she would take care of the small ones and he'd better damn well win.