Bern it Down (Open)

[Minerva]

"The Void? I don't care about the Void. I just care about your soft, white flesh. You know, if we weren't fighting, I might have found you... Attractive. And a girl like me likes attractive guys. I'd have given you my favor, you Darkling, and you would have had riches, power, and a beautiful woman. But now... I'll only give you the consolation prize. Death. Toodles, kiddo. Better luck next time?"

Minerva launched a fireball toward the Shaman, letting it flow from her fingers and hurtle at a leisurely pace. She'd wait until it drew near, and then... Bam!

The flaming sphere exploded into a shrouding blast of fire, which, while it was too far away to hurt the enemy, would at least surprise him. And behind its cover, Minerva motioned to her two attendants, who drew their axes and moved forward to stand flanking their Queen.

"Oh, baby. Are you ready to burn? Come at me, dear. Come at me!"

Minerva was wary. If she could get him to make a foolish move, spurred on by her taunting, she could easily dispatch him. But if he wouldn't take the bait... Then she'd have to maul him with sheer numbers. She had no idea how strong he was yet, so she was loath to take chances. So she would wait...



Fang broke the treasury door down, nodding in satisfaction as it shattered into splinters and exposed bags of gold.

"Perfect."

The Hero exited, found a few brigands, and soon had a chain of Sharks emptying the coffer's contents out to a group over the Eastern wall, who would relay the coin to the remaining Sharks at the "camp."

With his job done, Fang set off to find his Queen... He had succeeded yet again. For he was Fang.

Soon, he came upon an alley where there was a swordsman kneeling and a burly man holding a village girl up as a shield... He did not recognize the man as a Shark, but the swordsman was the one who had been training the militia...

"I am Fang. Attendant to Lady Minerva, Queen of the Sharks."

The Hero drew his sword and pointed it at the strange man, then the enemy swordsman.

"Who are you, strange one? Be you Shark or prey? And how came you to disarm this foe? I thank you for that at least... It will make it easier for me to kill him."

Fang raised his blade. He was ready for a fight... And he would see this swordsman culled.

[Borgus]

Fang, though Borgus to himself. Yes he remembered the name. Min mentioned him from before. Her and her group however seemed quite fond of Sharks. Truth be told Borgus though the name was lame. Personally he always like to be refereed to as wolves. Smarter, fiercer, and faster, plus they were an actual predator on land. It also helped that his clan was called the Wolf Tribe, though he kept that to himself.

"Wolf, not shark, but ally", spoke Borgus addressing Fan while keeping his eyes on Duma. "Now if you don't mind running off to go bother somebody else. This situation is far to delicate for you to join in the fray. All it takes is for you to step too close and it will become a hostage on hostage situation. To put it lightly the swordmaster is beyond you. He has already taken down far stronger bandits and got in the way of a superior raid once before."

At first Borgus did not realize who the man was. He took the hostage because he though she would be useful. However when Fang walked up and began to talk like a arrogant fool Borgus' memory was sent back to Flash. The fool of a bandit leader who raided that village some time back. He remembered seeing the man killed by a swordsmen with light blue hair and a scar on his face. At the time Borgus did not have a good look at his face from afar, but there was no denying it. This was the same man.

Shooing Fang away Borgus held tightly onto the hair of his hostage. It was now or never. Borgus raised his right hand up, which he had hidden behind the maiden's body. Inside of it was a concentrated beam of light. In a quick wave of his hand Borgus lunched the dazzling magic toward the face of the swordmaster. He wanted to finish off the man as soon as possible. He could not risk being cut up like last time.

[Duma]

As Fang introduced himself it gave the swordsman a momentary distraction. He learned quite a lot from the discussion between bandits. It seemed that the bandit with the hostage was an ally of the Sharks. He learned that this bandit was part of a group of other bandits that used the name Wolf. He had heard whispers about the wolves from a passerby. Apparently they had a small hand in the underworld. Hostage on hostage situation? Oh I see that can work. Fang you have given me some sort of an opening.

He was still on one knee. The man with the hostage held the woman up with his left hand and from his right he could see a faint glow. Then there was the very sparkle, which Duma recognized as the precursor to a light spell. A very grim memory flashed into his mind. His body moved on instinct. He threw a quick a hand full of dirt he picked up. In front of him, and quickly rolled to the side. The mud ball took the brunt end of the spell. The swordsman just narrowly dodged the flash of concentrated holy magic. The furthest tips of his hair got singed. A second later and he would have been sporting a fresh scar on top of his blue ones. He did his best not to waste any time.

He made a fast sprint back to his sword. He picked it up and braced himself for the next attack. He pressed the flat end of his sword into his arm and lifted it in front of him. So as to protect himself from either Fang's sword or the Bandits magic. The bladed edge, his flowey sleeves, or the gauntlets, of his "sword arm" would take the attack, thus sparing the rest of his body. Regardless of whom attacks him, his next move would be him going after the bandit with the hostage.

[Drei]

A faint distaste grew into a slight annoyance. As the blue haired tart boisterously and annoyingly bandied about herself Drei felt his venomous gaze slowly obscure. Lids eased shut for a brief span as he further concentrated. She was too busy being high upon her own powers, dancing frivolously within mentalities of flame and consuming power to acknowledge it. The nether. The essence of Elder Magic grew greater around Drei as he continued to gather energy. The temperature around him could have easily been confused for a chilled one; as the tainted essence began to twist and contort it's self to his whim once more. Her flashy conjurations of flame did not phase the Shaman. However as she attempted to taunt him he responded with a cold grin, palpable sphere's of darkness obscuring the entirety of his hands while he gathered more Elder Magic to him. His thoughts slightly warped to a crueler mentality as he tapped deeper into the coiling tendril infused abyss of the Nether to harness his strength. The air began to squirm. Essence siphoned from the void, the Shaman's cloak rippled and his hair tussled as if a wind swept him up constantly. Let the spirits of the Anima tremble beneath the presence of shadow. "You, could be the Sacrifices." Plural. He couldn't have been speaking to the blue haired woman; perhaps her companions? A slight chuckle etched out as the Shaman let his mind weave the shadowed magics. She launched the projectile of flames and burst it as Drei leapt backwards; but only after the wall obscured her vision.

It was hard to see the shadows, when such a bright source of light took the attention of the eye. Especially closer to the evening. The human eyes simply couldn't adjust that well. His hands manipulated the inky black twisting pools of darkness as he extended them to either side and let the cold chill of the void embrace the air. The tower of flames burned brightly, but it worked to his advantage. It would make his own attack practically invisible. Drei lifted either hand and opened his palms as the Elder magic released. Instead of spheres launched however he performed the Flux spell in it's truest form. Beneath either man attempting to flank tens of inky black shadowy tendrils erupted from the ground around them; powerful nether sphere's condensing as the shadows around them rushed inwards to create twin blossoming blasts of Elder Magic.

The true terror in Elder magic wasn't sending a blast towards a foe that was slow yet strong. It was that, when fully channeled the magic was strong enough to rend the soul and stain the corpse pale with the frigid scar of death's caress. It could rise from the ground, sprout from a wall, burst from the air. Unlike the Anima Magic of the Mage, it did not need to originate from the Shaman as a projectile. Similar to more advanced Light Magic spells it could be channeled from given points. He could use the Flux spell to hone in on living objects if he focused it; as he had. Perhaps that would silence her boasting.

[Borgus]

The fool drew too close and as a result the swordsmen sprung into action. Borgus was sure he was going to take Fang hostage, but instead he broke away and returned to his sword. Smart move, but not when facing against magic. The logical choice would be for Borgus to simply attack the swordsmen with his magic, but Borgus was not one to do what people expected him to do. Once he attacked the swordsmen with his magic he was sure the man would simply rush forward and counter him. Once he let go of the magical energy in his hand he was going to have to recharge it, so Borgus had to be sure that his next attack was as effective as possible.

As the swordsmen grabbed his sword and prepared himself for a attack Borgus turned his hand in preparation for his next shot. His hand however did not go toward the swordsmen, nor toward his blade. Instead he turned his magic back onto the hostage. A gruesome scream of pain filled the air as Borgus shot the full power of his light attack into the maiden's spine. The pain was so great that she awoke from her unconscious slumber. Great tears rolled down her cheek as agony roar from her mouth. A clear hole could be seen though her side as the magic pushed it's way through her body.

"Pity you do not care for this woman", spoke Borgus as he prepared his next attack in secret. The acolyte attempted to keep the swordsmen busy with words as he prepared another attack. Natually the maiden attempted to break free of the brigand's hold. However she could only move her arms as Borgus, on purpose mind you, had shot the magic into her lower spine removing the use of her legs. Like a hawk Borgus stared on at the blue headed swordsmen. He watched his muscles, his sweet, and even his hands. He needed to know what the man was going to do next. He was sure he was going to attack, but there was a chance he could try to use words. The screams of a victim were useful in playing on the conscious of warriors. Borgus knew this all too well, but at the same time self preservation was just as strong when pushing a enemy into a fighting against you.

[Duma]

The scream was enough to have Duma frozen in place. He knew from the beginning the hostage was most likely going to die. But he did not expect torture. It was a smart move on the bandit’s part. He watched as the poor girl struggled in vain. Torture was one of those little things that really pissed him off. This was due to his shaky history with bandits and slavers. He had seen hordes of people scarred terribly from the cruelties of “owners”. Some who’s only mercy was to be killed.

Duma did not speak. Words would only be a waste of time. Time that he did not have. There was great fury welling up within the swordsman. But he showed no traces of it. He kept his air of calm professionalism. He knew that charging in a blind rage only invites death. The swordsman met the orange haired bandit’s gaze with one of his own. A piercing stare that reflected his quiet focus and discipline. The only hint to his anger was the slight lowering of his eyebrows. He kept his breathing at a steady even pace. He knew that in order to get to the bandit he would have to go through the hostage. The hostage would be given a mercy killing, by his own blade. The bandit would not be so fortunate.

He was thinking. By now the bandit had already prepared for his next strike. Duma was fortunate the alley was not narrow. There was enough space where he could freely move about. He did not know if Fang was going to rejoin the fight so he needed to be prepared for his attack if he choose to do one.

He charged forward. He knew to look out for the bandit’s light spell and was prepared for it. He kept himself close to the wall of one side of the alley. He could use the wall to jump out of the way or quickly change direction without losing momentum. Something clicked with in the swordsman. Perhaps it was the adrenaline coursing through his veins or his sheer force of will. He was running much faster then normal. Once upon the man he would strike. Strike with as much force as three Duma's.

[Borgus]

There it was, Borgus could tell. The swordsmen was no longer playing with him. His torture tactic had worked, but only for a moment. Now the swordsmen was determined to kill him. He could see it in the man's eyes. He knew that look so well, because it was the same look he often carried. The hostage was of little value now. She would only serve as a meat shield to stopping the swordsmen's blade.

After a brief pause the swordsmen moved to attack. He was smart enough not to go straight, but at the same time stupid enough to try and move closer in a curving motion. If he had charged forward he could have dodged Borgu's attack and then impaled him and the girl. However by moving to the side he simply gave Borgus more time to react to his speed. The acolyte had one shot in this confrontation. He needed to make it work. Instead of trying to follow the man as he moved and predict his patter to shoot a beam of light Borgus instead turned with him and stepped backward. The acolyte positioned himself just in front of the door way of a nearby home. It would prove crucial for his stratagem.

As the swordsmen moved in to strike Borgus held steady. He did not want to waste his shot of light magic. Right when he saw the man's muscle move to attack Borgus quickly jumped back tossing the girl forward toward the man's blade. Taking advantage of the break Borgus positioned himself in the door way of the home. This meant that the swordsmen could only come one way. Borgus clinched his fist as he imbued the magic from his attack onto the knuckle gauntlets he wore on his hand. "SHINGING FINGER", shouted Borgus as he punched forward with the intent to strike the swordsmen.

However the acolyte had a devious plan. Instead of sending the magic through the gauntlets as it appeared Borgus instead gathered the magical power on the inside of his mouth. He had done the same trick before on a much younger and inexperience swordsmen. He was not sure if it was going to work on this man, but it was worth a try. As Borgus arm looked as if it would finish its strike the acolyte opened his mouth to reveal the true attack. From the tip of his tong flew his attack. His target was the swordsmen's eyes.

[Duma]

Duma had a split second to react to what was happening before him. Instead of the bandit launching his spell from his fist as his ridiculous one liner entailed. The man had launched the spell from his mouth. He turned his body and held up his arm shielding his eyes. The spell hit him hard. Straight in the shoulder. He felt his skin and flesh burn from the spell of the searing white magic. He let out a yell. I know I can take one hit. His mantra echoed in his head.

His feet found the ground. Quickly, Duma got up. He turned around to see the bandit. He charged forward. He was not going to let the bandit prepare for a second strike. He felt the anger in his chest well up and combine with the pain he felt shooting down his arm.

The swordsman got close. Dead Close. The man knew he was going to use the hostage as a meat shield. He didn't care. His first strike would hit either the maiden or the man. He moved his hand in such a manner that his two other strikes were nearly invisible to the naked eye. Three strikes in total. The full extent of his skill and training. The first strike was a diagnoal strike, meant to sever the head of the maiden from her body so she could no longer be used as a shield. My love. The second strike, an upwards diagonal strike aimed for the chest of bandit. My anger. The third meant for the bandit's neck. And all of my sorrow. The force of the three strikes were enough to send the bandit back a few feet. He felt the warm splatter of blood grace his body unsure if it was the maiden's,the bandit's,or both. He knew he had hit the bandit at least once. The maiden's corpse was on the ground beside him. There was a thud as the man's body fell back into the house.

The pain in his arm became more severe. Duma did not have any time to loiter. He could not check to see if the bandit still lived. He needed a to find a healer. The swordsman ran off, leaving the man to his fate.

[Borgus]

"@#$5", spoke Borgus as he fell to the ground. Blood began to pour from his wounds. A great slash covered his chest and another on his neck. To be truthful Borgus was not even sure if he really had spoken or if he imagined it. He knew fighting the swordsmen would be a bad idea, but he had too. The hostage seemed to be the best way to defeat him. It all might have went well to be truthful if it was not for that fool Fang getting too close. Everything started to run cold.

To die in this place, thought Borgus to himself. He figured he would go by the hands of Big Sam or by poison in his wine. He never thought he would be killed in some godforsaken city in the middle of nowhere. It was all benefit him. He had money, power, and gold. He had no real reason to be here. However Borgus always wanted more. That was always his critical flaw, his greed.

As Borgus bleed out he could hear the words of his old master. The old man who first taught him how to use the power of light. "Your greed will be your undoing", spoke the man before Borgus sent him off to the other world. The acolyte chuckled blood. He was sure that one came up. "It seems the old fool was right after all. Right after all. Still I want more...."

Without another word the last breath in Borgus body left him. The acolyte who though himself smarter than his common brothers passed on to the next world.

[Borgus death]

[Minerva]

Fang looked on as the swordsman and the 'friend' engaged. It was fast and vicious, but Fang was not intimidated. The man was injured, and he was a Shark. The scent of blood was in the air, and now... Now he would hunt this swordsman down and destroy him!

"Swordsman! Don't run! You will only make your eventual encounter with me harder for you. Why don't you just stay and fight like a true hero? Or is it your internal cowardice that makes you run? Has no one taught you that pain is to be overcome? That greatness lies in sacrifice for others? This man died, so that I might live. And now you shall die, so that my Queen might live. Do you see? I will die, so that my Queen will live, or you will die, so that my Queen may live. Either way, my Queen shall live, and so you, swordsman, will be my victim! For I am Fang, the tooth of the Sharks, the instrument of cutting and rending and tearing! I will chew you and suck out your marrow, and will leave nothing but your garments behind."

Fang sprinted after the swordsman. He would not allow such a man to escape. He was a danger to the Sharks, and would need to be devoured. It was his job as Fang to ensure that the man did not survive to harm the operation. His words were meant to entrap and ensnare, and his weapons were sharp and ready. The swordsman was his prey now. The scent of blood was on the air.


Minerva grinned as she stepped back, motioning to a man who was passing.

"Yes, my Queen?"

"Proceed with the incendiary phase."

"Yes, my Queen."

There. Now all she had to do was wait. Soon, the ruby glow of flames would envelop the town. Then there would be a period of scorching heat and driving plagues of smoke, and then, after all of it, all that would remain would be the lazing piles of soft ash, beckoning with the allure of the past, dead and buried in the flames.

"Come, you fool! Dance with me!"

Suddenly, black tendrils erupted from the ground around Minerva's two thugs. One was wise, and managed to twist his body out of the way, receiving only a minor swat from a few of the inky 'vines,' but the other foolishly laughed and tried to swipe them away. The dark power closed in, and the man screamed only once, briefly, as he was wrought with a series of blows that reduced him to his knees, where he stayed, coughing and breathing in short, strained gasps.

"Damn you, Shaman."

Minerva was angry. She stood erect, her robe slightly fluttering in the breeze, and summoned all of her willpower to resist the temptation to charge straight at the man and assault him with the heat of a thousand splendid suns.

"Prepare to die! I will destroy you myself... And if I see fit, maybe I'll let my men have fun destroying you otherwise!"

[Duma]

Duma kept running. He could hear Fang behind him. Oh. Great. I had hoped you ran off Fang. The sword-master frowned. He did not want to deal with fang especially with his shoulder the way it was. The bandit's light magic had left him partially burned. With each step he took the air brushed up against the freshly singed flesh and stung. He tried to push back the thoughts of pain.

He wanted to run off and head to the local chapel. He knew at least the priestess or at least one of the monks or sisters was proficient in healing staffs. He could get his shoulder somewhat mended in a jiffy. But then he'd be leading Fang straight for them. And he had no way of knowing if they were still there. They could have evacuated once the trouble started. Damn it. Curse you bandit.

“Swordsman! Don't run! You will only make your eventual encounter with me harder for you. Why don't you just stay and fight like a true hero? Or is it your internal cowardice that makes you run? Has no one taught you that pain is to be overcome? That greatness lies in sacrifice for others? This man died, so that I might live. And now you shall die, so that my Queen might live. Do you see? I will die, so that my Queen will live, or you will die, so that my Queen may live. Either way, my Queen shall live, and so you, swordsman, will be my victim! For I am Fang, the tooth of the Sharks, the instrument of cutting and rending and tearing! I will chew you and suck out your marrow, and will leave nothing but your garments behind!”

No. F&*% you fang. I'm not going to fall for your taunt. Not like this. The Maiden is dead. Bandit is dead. And I am hurt. Fighting you in this state would likely lead to my death. His body was tired. I burned too much energy dealing with that idiot's shining finger. I knew I shouldn't have used my skill. Not for a lowlife like him. His breathing was heavy. No Fang. I cannot fight you. But I will remember you. I will remember you and your stupid Sharks. And your queen.

He took note of an alley near by, one that he was familiar with. This alley was narrow and had a lovely hornet's nest dangling on one of the nearby gutters. Fang had almost caught up to him now. Duma pulled a hard turn into the alley. He quickly jumped from one end of the wall into the other and slashed at the hornet's nest. It fell to the ground. A swarm of angry hornets were upon Fang, who was a few paces behind the swordsman. Duma kept running. He heard Fang yell, but didn't know if he was still being chased. He knew the alley led out towards the main road.

Out on the main street he could see two mages dueling. He could barely make out the shape of a maiden with short hair. She commanded two thugs to do something and judging from the torches they carried it meant to set things on fire. This mage here was probably the “queen”. The other mage she was dueling was a light haired shaman. Drei! He was too far away to go out and help him. And he did not want to lead Fang over there either. Duma took a moment to duck into one of empty buildings. He hid himself behind a shelf away from the doors and windows. Fang had been slowed down, but not stopped. He caught his breath and applied some salve to his shoulder. The salve stung like hell on his skin. Salve wasn't as effective as a staff but it would have to do.

[Drei]

Shadows wavered within his finger tips. Inky black miasma like taint that slowly congregated and gathered from his body. His finger tips contracted slowly and condensed the dark essence as venomous amber eyes gazed at the blue haired mage while she instructed bandits around. The one she talked to as he passed by. Incendiary phase? She meant to burn down the town..though that was obvious. It reminded him of that moment. That very moment when he saw the tent of his family..of his life..his home..the structure he called home; go up in flames. Etrurian guards burning it when the Shaman's within proved too much to bring down simply through force of arms.

In that lingering moment a flame burst in the snowy haired male's heart. A hatred that boiled with such intensity..and such white hot anger that he couldn't tell if his vision was blurred from the fatigue upon his body, or his unbridled rage. As if every aspect of loathing was summarized within this woman, and she the embodiment of it flawlessly. His expression remained cold and blank. As if she didn't even register to him; but was a mere object and not a living human. His hands condensed every essence of shadow he could draw to himself as he channeled the flux spell. His eyes closed briefly while he collected his thoughts and prepared for what it was he planned to do. Two targets. Two he had to kill. Mentally he strained himself a bit and felt the weight of it...but he would do his damnedest to keep this town safe.

Drei darted to the same side as the man passing by that she had instructed. If he died, he slowed this "phase" down. However when he moved to the side he moved past a small building and obscured from the Mage's line of sight. Turning around the side he sprinted in a short breathless burst to cut the brigand off only to spin around and act instinctively. With both palms open he launched the twin bolts of dark Elder Magic outwards. Silent, unnaturally so, they sailed through the air towards the two brigands lingering. The one that had evaded his initial flux cast and the one the fire wielding mage had issued orders to.

Murky pools of black taint spread along the ground dancing hidden within the shadows of both night and the building only to burst upwards. This ultimately was the last of his built up reserve he'd been trying to "channel" while the mage had taunted him and lobbed flames at him with him idly darting about. However it would be worth it if he could catch them both. Then it would be just him and the blue haired woman. If he succeeded he'd be able to go from there.

Timing it, he released the spell so the shadows lifted upwards beneath the spot the two brigands had been. He tried to time it to deny them a chance to react; but anything could happen after all. However regardless of movement, the shadows rose from those spots and condensed quickly into small dark sphere's before bursting into pluming blasts of violet and raven shades of corruption. Refined focused bursts of Elder Magic that could corrode the soul and obliterate flesh.

Where he should have felt fatigue, Drei only felt a raw blistering hatred towards the mage. Adrenaline and hatred kept him going for the time being, turning to dash back behind the building to force the woman to come to him he zipped and slid down behind a rock to catch his breath. His heart hammered in his chest and his lungs greedily siphoned any air he could take in as he tried to calm his heart beat. Things were getting harder from the strain of the multitude of casts in such a short time.

[Minerva]

Minerva smiled as she raised her hands and gathered power. It was simple now. She had to slam her might against this Shaman until he buckled under her power. Then she saw the darkness erupting as the man moved to the side, ending up facing her backup man and the one who was heading to light the town aflame.

Her smile faded into a grimace of disgust as twin bursts of fell magic erupted from the ground and enveloped her men. They crumpled like rocks, and the man she had sent to burn the village shrieked and threw his torch toward a nearby alley, where it fell upon a few lonesome crates and started them aflame. It was too isolated to burn any other parts of the village, unfortunately. Meanwhile...



As the dark Hero gained on his quarry, the Swordmaster ducked into an alley, and Fang followed him closely... Straight into a cloud of hornets. The man yelled in pain as a dozen of the insects latched onto his exposed arms, and a few on his neck. With his eyes squinted to protect them, Fang ignored the Swordmaster for the moment, allowing him to duck into a building. The Hero simply ran straight into a thick cloud of smoke caused by a fallen torch, and swatted at the insects until they released their hold.

"Damned swordsman. That hurt."

The pain would not last. Fang knew that. He had to continue his job. So the man took out a vial, draining the bit of liquid within. It was a solution that dulled pain. While it did not heal, it was effective at numbing sensations just like the stabbing, burning pain from the hornets he felt.

Then he saw his Queen.

"Lady Minerva!"

"Fang! I have this one... You rally the men. Set this damned town on fire!"

Fang nodded, sprinting away. He was loathe to leave his Queen in battle, but he could not disobey a direct order. The man ran through the main street, yelling to any Shark within earshot: "Light the town! Light the town!"



Minerva nodded, her face set. This was now a war. She had sent Fang. Fang would not fail. And now... She would finish the Shaman off. Such casting - many quick bursts, and even two at once - would undoubtedly have tired him. Now she would burn him to the ground.

"Flames... Heed my call!"

Minerva launched a burst of fire at a nearby building. The blue flames crackled merrily as they burst into bloom, leaving her hands and hurtling towards the dry wood of the wall. The blunette mage's passion was ignited, and now she would let her power flow forth. She still had most of her energy - as the Shaman hadn't struck at her, she had no need of dodging or absorbing any hits. She was fresh and ready to battle.

Minerva ran around the corner after the Shaman. She would not let him escape.

[Duma]

Duma heard Fang run down the road past the house he was taking shelter in. He sighed softly. This gave him time to fully recover and catch his breath. He took a drink of water from his pouch. Applied some more salve. He started to think clearly. He could hear fang yelling off in the distance. He left his hide hole and began moving. Opting to take a different route back out into the streets. Eventually running out to a side road. Someone's voice was calling out from the distance. Fang. He cursed under his breath and hid in the shadows behind a barrel.

Light the town? This was just like that village in Sacae then. He clenched his fist. No more running. He thought to himself. Fang's involvement in these raids would end today. By his hand. Perhaps Fang would give the swordsman the name of his queen so he could kill her too. And put an end to these bandits once and for all.

Duma drew his sword and waited. He braced himself for the right moment. Duma would only have one shot to get the drop on Fang, with out having to resort to a long battle. As much as he hated to admit it Fang was strong. And he was weakened due to his burn. Duma readied himself mentally. Soon, Fang passed by the entrance of the small alley he had been hiding in. Now was the time to strike. Quickly, Duma lept out of the shadows and charged at Fang while his back was turned. Duma made no noises save for the sound of his foot fall on the dry earth. He was upon Fang in an instant, his sword stabbed firmly Fang's back.

"Burn in hell."

He spoke, before moving his arm and slicing his sword out through fang's side. He hoped that this would kill the hero. Now he had to deal with any other "sharks" in the area who were witness to this.

[Drei]

His lungs worked furiously. Burning with each motion, his chest expanded and sank as he took in long deep breaths. With each one, he centered himself further. Each one, his heart beat got a little slower. Calmer. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Center. Calm. Amber hues still concealed beneath closed lids, he also had to quiet himself as not to reveal his hiding. He needed a bit more time. The town was fairly filled with houses, dotted with trees and decorated by somewhat large rocks. However if he was rasping and gasping for air it would do him little good to hide. He'd have been better off in the open waving with a stupid toothy grin.

That didn't mean he couldn't hear though. Burning the town down. Burning it to the ground. That was their goal still. That blistering monstrosity of raw hatred twisting within his chest still continued to roar savagely at the notion. A purely unbiased sensation of raw anger ate away at him while he slowly opened his palms. Fingers curled as if he was making a claw with his hands, wrist strained while he started to focus. The air around him started to lose some of it's vibrancy of life. That familiar dread as he tapped into the essence of the void. The Shaman's ashen strands of hair tossed and danced as if blown by a gales caress while he gathered to him the power of his Elder Magic. This was something he'd tried to refine. His endurance in the art. Slowly he motioned his hands further open. Together, and with a small one foot distance apart of them he began to draw to him the twisting dark inky taint of Dark Magic that he specialized in. He was still hunched over and crouched behind one of four fairly large rocks. His thin frame made it easy to take shelter behind in earnest.

His breathing had finally returned to absolute normalcy whilst small roots of black corruption danced between his finger tips. No more semi-casting. He'd need his spells to pack their fullest punch. This was something he'd have to get used to doing. Breathing slowly, the Ashen haired shaman prepared the flux spell and quietly sat in wait; ready to ambush the mage.