Snippet #1549512

Beelzes was forced to dismiss her Shitre devil, allowing the extraplanar creature to return to it's own plane of existance. That summoning--the last she could draw from her patron for the day--ended just when her young pupil finally decided to show up. The deep human sighed in relief, but then screwED up her face as she mulled a thought over in her mnd: If I was beaten out by this quiet, furry woman...that means that Shanir...hm. Think ol' gal, think! What does that mean for Shanir? as the warlock thought this over, a playful voice intruded in her mind. Death? Does it mean she is going to die? Maybe you should have asked for more potent magic this morning instead of telling me more jokes, although I never tire of your wit, my love.

Beelzes immediately perked up and seemed ten years younger. The tattoos on her skin writhed in anticipation and eldritch energy tingled across the woman's scalp. Her patron, the demon prince Yuzu, had taken special notice of Beelzes and was channeling more strength into the warlock. Riddled with an overwhelming sense of awe, pain and ecstasy, Beelzes could do little more than grip her shoulders as energy continued to pour through her from the burning pits of Avernus. The Silenced Beryl, on the other hand, was under no such bondage. She cancelled the gathering of her next spell and hopped over Faera's aqua-whip. With a sharp gesture from each hand, the gnoll evoked a pair of writhing whips of water much like Faera's. The silenced allowed her hood to fall, revealing the lupine muzzle of a gnoll spread her feet in an anticipatory stance.

Beryl intended to duel a fellow mage on equal footing. That meant that they would use the same spell, along with one extra spell. The last mage standing would be the winner. Sadly, this would not be happening for this particular gnoll as a freakishly accurate bolt of lightning engulfed Beryl's robed form. As the light cleared and the thunder pealed, the Silenced was revealed as a charred husk of her former glory. By some miracle Beryl pushed herself off of the grass. She stared at Faera with eyes that no longer remained, and could not do much else in her severely burned state.

As for the other Silenced, Nunnsam, he was having a grand time battling the harpy. It would have been perfect save for the harpy had no skill in the arcane arts, and the bolts slamming into his side made it hard to maintain proper form. Nunnsam was burning through his last two movement-enhancing spells in order to keep up with Alistair and flowed around the harpy's strikes like water. It was almost unfair how skilled Nunnsam was at swordplay, and most definetly that he also knew enough magic to make himself nigh invincible against most opponents. With a snap of his free-hand, Nunnsam utilized the last of his teleportation spells to shift directly on top of Alistair. He would have most likely delivered a telling blow had a bolt not sent him sailing end over end through the air.

Nunnsam skidded to a halt in the rain-slicked grass and stared at the sky. He tried to voice a question through bound lips; What just happened? a black shaft of pulsating bone sprouted from the magical Child's chest, a Bolt of Death, courtesy of Sid. As the life rapidly drained from Nunnsam, Sid loaded another bolt and began cranking her wallarmbrust. She was a halfling once more, and her enchanted dexterity had worn off. She looked beaten and tired, not even registering the kill on her mental radar. The captain merely aimed at one of the few remaining living Children of Fire and brought him down with cold, unerring accuraccy. Damnit Wrath.

---

The world was a blur of chalky dust, stinking mud and all too cold rain. The skeletal horde lay in ruins in a large line near the end of camp, with Wrath panting and kneeling quietly before it. The magic of the amulet had released it's hold on the general, and with it the powers it imparted. He might have passed out had Mikana not appeared to bolster him with holy ministrations. Wrath faded in and out of conciousness, the pale face of the young elven paladin wavering in his sight. It felt like a long time before the world came into focus. Wrath thanked Mikana and, with her assistance, stood up to access the field.

The golems were finishing off the remaining undead and were moving to surrounded the legionnaires with Sarish. With their mighty blows the darkgard pulped two or three zombies with each attack. What was left of the Children had been scooped up by the flying constructs, and the Leliana MK II, along with three other flying golems had torn apart the undead thane until only a squawking skull remained. The battle had finally dided down. Pressing a hand to the symbol at his chest, Wrath created a reverberating echo of his voice. "Report to Captain Grimsmirk. We're done here."

The flame-colored golem alighted nearby, holding the proffered skull up towards the general. It cast a baleful glare at Wrath, to which he smiled. This was the first Thane in recorded history to be taken alive in battle. Well...mostly alive.