Snippet #1550684

Faera bit down on her lower lip and tried to control her shaking. Was she scared? Oh, most definitely. She couldn't remember being this scared in a while, because she was not stupid, and knew that anyone who could hurt Beelzes could probably squish her like some kind of bug. Nightmarians notwithstanding. But, well... it wasn't like she had a choice. There was no way she was going to leave her friend to die or something equally horrible as that. So she swung again, jumping back in surprise when the blow was canceled and the exact same move leveled at her. She'd never dueled anyone before, and thus she had no idea what was going on. The strange magic that Beelzes was giving off wasn't helping the situation any either.

Fae was fast, but the silenced was, perhaps not surprisingly, far more precise, and one of the next series of hits contacted her upper left arm with enough force to break it. The bone snapped, and Fae bit back an agonized scream. She was still reeling when the lightning from Duran's spear hit dead-on, and reduced her opponent to a smoking pile of... well, something unpleasant. Both whips lost their shape, soaking into the ground with the rest of the rain, and Faera brought her right hand up to hold her left arm and stop it from dangling awkwardly at her side.

She stumbled over to Beelzes, who was still emitting some kind of energy that she couldn't identify. "Hey... are you okay?" The question brought a strangely breathless chuckle from the warlock.

"I'm not the one with a useless arm, Little Shanir." Fae flushed; that much was true, and it was just plain old inattentiveness that had earned her the injury, too. It was probably best not to bother Pel with it, so Fae concentrated, willing the bone to set itself in place and mend, knitting the torn muscle back together over it. The effort was a bit more than she'd thought, and she wound up staggering into Beelzes, almost sending the both of them to the ground. "Easy there," the deep human told her, and helped the exhausted Faera into the vicinity of Captain Sid and Alistair.

---

Neira, who was actually much less injured than she had been after the last battle, dropped the last of her foes at the command to report to the captain and sighed. "I'd like to know whose idiot idea this was," she muttered to herself, shaking out of her half-formed stoicism and back to the sarcastic persona she used at all other times. She maintained that once she killed something, it was only fair that it stay dead. It was no fun having to do the same job twice, after all.

The fact that this re-animation thing could even be done by someone in this camp struck her as a piece of information that it would have been useful to have before they attacked, not what they took to be halfway through. "You heard the man," she told the berserker somewhere to her left. "Let's move it." On the way, she passed one of the sisters, the not-blind one, and what appeared to be some kind of eldritch... thing. She was pretty sure she didn't want to know, actually, but damn if that wasn't the oddest sight she'd seen in a while.

The woman, about ready to keel over as far as Neira could tell, addressed the creature as Kisikoni, which she frankly had difficulty reconciling with the rather unobtrusive-looking deep human who shared the moniker. "Well, I'll wager that's a hell of a story," she commented dryly. Frankly, it might also count as a pun, depending on how one thought of hell. "You might want to worry about yourself first, Shanir." Still, she shrugged and left them to whatever, advancing instead to the remains of what seemed to be a much more interesting battlefield than her own. There was some charring, quite a lot of blood, and a notably-weary looking ranged team plus a few of the more melee-oriented looking individuals.

Hmm... looks like I missed the fun bit.