There were a thousand things Blend might have expected when he neared the Grand City with his army of Aliscowri and the goddess that led them. But when hundreds of corpses pulled themselves from the grounds around the Grand City, even the sailor had to admit things weren't going quite as anticipated.

The undead came in all shapes and sizes. Some were as old as the ground they walked on, their bones caked in dirt and yellowed with age. Others were fresh, victims of recent wars and more recent tidal waves. Their armors and clothing were ragged, dirtied, but in tact. With the zombies came liches, banshees, wraiths, and all manner of monstrous undead. They floated or stumbled past him, uncaring of Blend. It was apparent he was fighting on the right side of this unholy battlefield.

The gate didn't provide much resistance. Arrows rained down from above, but the Aliscowri hardly seemed to notice as they joined with the undead to tear through the fortified entrance of the Grand City. Blend kept deliberately out of reach, trying to avoid the arrows which hissed past him and his Iltorian companion. Luckily, the defenders seemed more focused on Terra and the Aliscowri.

Speaking of which, where was Terra, that red-eyed Slayer of Gods? The moment the gate had been breached, Terra vanished into the fray, heading towards the heart of the city. Blend decided to follow, and the three-legged demon from Chaos joined him as they pushed through the bodies of the dead and living alike.

The inside of the city was pure chaos. Undead and Aliscowri poured from the gate like some inhuman flood, attacking anything and everything they could get their greedy fingers on. The Aliscowri had lost the brief discipline they displayed on the march - now, they ran about in ravenous hoards, no ranks maintained whatsoever. As a result, they were getting mowed down by the arrows and sorceries from the crenelations above. That didn't seem to stop them, as the undead filled in the gaps left behind by the living Aliscowri.

He passed a sealed doorway which led upstairs to the wall. The Aliscowri were trying to pry it open uselessly when one of the Dead Seed approached. This child was no more than ten years old, Blend saw, but her eyes were coal black and her voice echoed hauntingly when she spoke.

"Move aside," she directed the Aliscowri, then pointed to one. "Except for you. Stay in front of the door."

The Aliscowri did as directed. The young sorceress nodded, appeased, then lifted her right palm towards the door and the Aliscowri man in front of it. Black lightning burst from her palm, struck the man, then exploded in crimson bolts of energy. The man was killed instantly, but the sorcery was amplified with his sacrifice, and wood shattered at the impact of the spell.

The Aliscowri didn't need direction. They poured into the newly opened doorway and up the stairs, going for the men and women who defended the castles wall.

Blend felt evil. It was a new sensation to him. His whole life, he'd been undeniably greedy and selfish, but never outright cruel. Walking amongst these horribly twisted men and women, accepted as one of them, Blend felt a stain on his soul which was growing larger every moment. But it was too late, he knew. This stain would be his, forever. Did that make him evil? In Chaos, good and evil co-exist. Was he truly so chaotic?

He turned to the Iltorian. "Let's find that Goddess. It may be she needs our help." The demon nodded and they pushed through the throngs of attacking undead, headed for the castle. He caught a glimpse of black hair and rushed towards it. Fire and lightning danced across the sky above, and the screams of death echoed across the city. War was upon them all.

Blend caught up with Terra as she neared the castle entrance. The gate was barred and sealed, as could be expected. Arrows hissed down from above. One caught Blend in the right shoulder and he cried out, biting back the pain which lashed up his arm and into his skull. But he didn't have time to think - more arrows rained down from above and if he stood there much longer one was sure to find a more fatal mark. Blend ducked under an overhang near the gate. It was made of wood, but served the purpose. Arrows thudded into the roof above him.

His eyes wide, pain clouding his thoughts, Blend called out to Terra: "What now?! How do we get inside?"

A ghost charged past him and through the wall. From the other side, Blend could hear screams as men and women were massacred by the wraith. Silence followed, as blood ran under the crack in the doorway and out into the courtyard. A couple frightful moments passed until the wraith scratched against the latches and pushed the bar off the door, and the entrance into the Grand City castle was secured.

"Hmm. Nevermind!" He winked at Terra then followed after the wraith into the castle.

Some weeks earlier...

The Guardian, perched upon the large jagged boulder pile that decorated the peak of the mountain overlooking the shadowed valley below, surveyed the final repairs of the decrepit mansion. Her steel gray hair whipping chaotically around in the strong wind, the chill unfelt upon her skin. The weather, in her state, was rather non-climactic.

"Lady Isabella," Sentinel Garin stood back a safe distance from where the Guardian nearly teetered over the edge of the treacherous cliff side, "I mean not to disturb, but it seems the final preparations are complete. The last of the deliveries have arrived from NorthCross. The keepers are putting the last of the relics in the dungeons, under Madame Mikayla's direction, as we speak. We require new orders."

"See to it that the King's belongings are in their proper order..."

"But Lady Isabella," the foolish Sentinel interrupted, "The King has not been seen in..."

In between the space of time it took for the guard to speak the words 'seen' and 'in' she had rushed him, unbeknownst to him, until her hand slithered its way around his neck from behind. Isabella's porcelain tinted lips brushed against the warm flesh that covered the cartilage of his ear lobe, "Our primordial King is eternal. Will you be so foolish as to doubt this fact, Garin?"

She instinctively felt his pulse quicken, the blood rushing faster through his veins, as if calling to her more predatory side purposefully. "If I hear rumor of anyone even speaking the King's name in past tense I will deliver them to the bottom of the frozen lake myself." Releasing him from her unearthly grip, he crumbled down to a knelt position, immediately bringing his hands to rub out the new kinks in his neck.


Present day...

The faction of Redmonts Isabella had been temporarily placed in charge of had finished their duties weeks before. The new grounds were in place, their new home filled with all the treasured mementos of their last empire. Scouting parties had been sent in advance searching for a place where the Redmont Brood could stake their claim, pun intended. A site was chosen were the sun very rarely showed it's face, where mortal humans were few and far between due to the inclement weather conditions, and a place within close proximity to the hallowed Land of Winter.

The sun had shown itself more lately, its fiery sting forcing many Redmonts to take shelter within their windowless rooms more days than they had originally counted upon. The climate of their new land was shifting, the stark winter landscape melting to reveal the first signs of a spring invasion. Something had to be done, this land was the land of endless twilight, a never ending winter, and they liked it that way.

The ebony tinted ship had docked later in the evening, Isabella lept from the deck onto the makeshift dock, the large waves and flooding having ripped the original docks to shreds.

"Stay with the ship, Commander." Isabella's oddly golden eyes drifted slowly over the destruction before them, "If only Gazah was here to see this," The Guardian gracefully moved from one post to another before looking back to the Commander, "The crew is to help these people in their rebuilding effort of these docks until my return, make use of themselves as it were. It seems Grand City has been knocked off it's high horse, so our help should be welcomed."

She continued her precarious journey to the shore, using every means to make it to dry land. Upon landing she turned back to look at the ship that had brought her here, quite a distance, some of the land underwater now had surely been above water before this catastrophe had happened. Isabella began making her way into town, determined. If only the rumors were true, the sightings, ...they had to be. Her vision focused in on the tower of the King's castle, a calling stirred within her.

'They say he wears the colors of the demoness now.'

Isabella recalled the report, which sounded more like a ghost story than a factual piece of information. Light gold eyes darted between the cities citizens as they mingled in and out of her vision, crossing her path, as they attempted to attend to the sick, the dying, and the dead. Much of the city was damaged, but ahead she could see the tavern she was informed she could find answers at.

Isabella opened the double doors, letting the firelight flood over her, as the sun set over the horizon of the city.

"Good day Lady Deanna I am Madrin Kir I have come to help you in your mission."

Deanna regarded the man, a seasoned warrior if her critical eyes were correct (and they usually were), and regarded this stranger with a mixture of caution and curiosity, her fey amber orbs locking with his icy ones. “Is that a fact, now?” She responded to his greeting, unsure of what to make of this man when she noticed a faint verdant mark that lit up briefly upon his forehead but was gone before she could truly take notice of it. It was enough though. This man was marked by the Goddess Aurora, and as far as Deanna was concerned, it was good enough for her.

William and his men eyed Madrin supsiciously until Deanna leaned her bow against her legs, and pressing her hands together before her, greeted him in a more befitting manner. “Well met to you, Madrin Kir. Your presence here is sorely needed and we thank you for it.” She then turned to face 'her men' and nodded to them. “Be at ease brothers, for he is here to help. He is one of us now.” And that was all it took for Madrin to be accepted by the small group that was Alerian Guard and one therianthrope warrior.

Pleasantries aside, Deanna could hear the sounds of arrows whizzing behind her toward the Harbor as the Val'nothe broke surface accompanied by Verial and what appeared to be another dragon, only one she had not the presence of mind to recognize. Her men voiced their awe as well, but there was little time view the battle scene below them for death was upon them in an instant.

Literally.

Steel clashed against the animated bodies that felt no pain, no remorse as they tore through any living being in their paths. As if they weren't enough, the Aliscowri made a fine show of decapitating heads, tearing limbs of the poor frightened citizens of the City whose screams and wails echoed in Deanna's ears. Truly it was a terrifying sound, more so than the cries of those who lost their lives in the tidal waves. Blood flowed in rivers, soaking into the earth, dripping down broken down stone and rubble. No one was spared, not women nor children. The population of Eiler was rapidly decreasing even as Deanna, Madrin and her small group of warriors did their best to hold their own.

“Back! Get back! Back to the castle gates!” Deanna cried out to the remaining Alerian soldiers whose numbers had dropped by more than half. Men in uniform lay sprawled upon the sodden ground in various positions of death, some with limbs intact, some without, but each and every one with their eyes open and unseeing. Their position on the hill had been Deanna's idea, for upon seeing the army led by the strange, but clearly demonic young woman, Deanna assumed they would have an advantage. She hadn't counted on the army of undead that the young woman had somehow raised. Necromancy was something the shifter had heard of, but didn't fully comprehend. All she knew was that those who dabbled with the dead were clearly evil.

She glanced quickly at Madrin to see the warrior was wounded and bloodied, but otherwise appeared well enough to continue to fight. Deanna herself was splattered in blood and gore, some of it hers, some of it her enemies. Somewhere in the frenzy her chainmail had been torn from her body which left her only with the leather armor for protection. She didn't have time to worry about such foolishness, as she hurridly led whatever men were left toward the castle.

Just then she heard a scream that tore at her heart and when the shifter turned, she saw William had been overcome by three Aliscowri who were tearing at the young soldier with such a viciousness, it made bile rise in Deanna's throat. The vile beings were accompanied by several of the undead. The shifter screamed comrade's name and without thinking, ran at the Aliscowri and began cutting them down with her sword. She was not alone, for Madrin Kir and the other guards had accompanied her in her quest for vengeance. When the melee was over, only Deanna, Madrin and one other guardsman were left standing. There was no time to mourn as they ran like hell toward the castle gates.

“I need to find Quinn and Maxim!” She yelled to Madrin, who wouldn't have a clue to whom she was refferring to. Somwhere along the way, the last of her group of soldiers had disappeared, and Deanna could only assume he had perished as well. Bodies were everywhere littering the Grand City. Young, old, warrior, citizen. It was all the same. The world was indeed coming to an end.

Deanna seperated from Madrin who,when last she had seen, was tangling with a few Aliscowri of his own. She was running at breakneck speed when she saw the young woman who led the dead to their city cutting down soldiers left and right with twin swords. She was closing in on the castle gates, and Deanna forgot all about finding the Redmont brothers. Sword in hand, the shifter pressed on, leaping over the fallen, slashing and cutting at the enemies in her path. She knew she had to stop this vile woman at all costs....or die trying.

Deanna watched as those who sought to defend their castle and king rained arrows down from above, high upon the walls that remained intact, but there was no denying the cries of woe from those that fell victim to their enemies. Deanna stopped short perhaps twenty yards from the castle entrance as she caught sight of a familiar figure. It was the translator of Djarin known as Blend. What in the name of the gods was he doing here? And with the demonic necromancer as well?

“Stop!” She called out even as the entrance to the castle gates were opened somehow. She watched as Blend and Terra turned to face her, and if Blend was surprised to see Deanna, she paid him no heed. Her attention was soley focused on Terra and her twin swords. The shifter pointed her sword in the young woman's direction. “Let's finish this.” The young woman was all too happy to oblige and calmly sauntered over to where Deanna stood before suddenly springing to attack.

Steel clashed upon steel. Deanna was no babe in the woods when it came to swordplay. It was a talent she excelled at, and prided her ability to seemingly predict her opponents counterattack, but this one was different. Terra was agile on her feet, her swords a blur as they slashed at Deanna and frankly, it was all the shifter could do to keep up with her defense. Under the light of the moon and the torches that lit along the castle wall she manged to hold her own as she parried each attack Terra threw at her. It wasn't until several long and agonizing minutes within their battle did Deanna realize that this young woman was simply toying with her.

She saw Terra's sword flash near her face, and Deanna brought her own up swiftly to block when she suddenly felt something cold and sharp in her midsection. Terra's cruel gaze never left Deanna's and a small smile played upon the younger woman's lips as Deanna lowered her sword in shock and amazement before following Terra's gaze downward.

The sword ran clean through Deanna's stomach, easily slicing through the leather like it was butter. The shifter felt her breath catch in her throat as her weapon slipped from her fingers, landing with a clang onto the ground by her booted feet. With an eerie calm, she lifted her gaze to meet Terra's. Strange how she felt such little pain, even as she knew the necromancer wasn't quite done with her. Deanna stood, arms hanging at her side, her jaw squared in open defiance even as she knew she was as good as dead.

Deanna smiled even as blood began seeping out of the corner of her mouth.

“Here's a secret, just between us girls: Better pray the gods destroy you now, before the two I love most in this world find you and rip your fucking heart out, you miserable bitch.”

Terra laughed as she ripped her sword in one smooth upward stroke before yanking the bloodied weapon from Deanna's body. The therianthrope let out a gurgling sound and fell to her knees, her hands automatically pressed against her gorged out flesh that poured blood, knowing it was a futile movement.

Her vision began to waver as she watched Terra turn and walk from her without another word, followed by an openmouthed Blend. Deanna didn't want to die on her knees like this, but couldn't find the strength to stand. She keeled over and found herself face up, looking at the starlit sky. Thoughts of those she loved and cared for ran fleetingly through her brain, but it was a different name that last passed her lips.

“Elysia,” she whispered as she took her last breath and closed her eyes before she died.

"Brother, if I hurt Deanna you wouldn't have to threaten me. I'd gladly lay down before your blade and let you finish me off." the anger in his voice wasn't hidden however. His brother Maxim Redmont had issued a warning to him. One that he appreciated, but didn't like none-the-less. The thought that he would hurt Deanna physically or emotionally on purpose was laughable. However shortly after that discussion they were both picked up by a pair a talons and dropped off on a rooftop. Whether they'd been met by the King. Quinn was there as Alerion spoke but he wasn't really listening. He'd been more worried about Deanna, so when the offer to go through the armory came he took it as a chance to find her.

And he had found her. The conversation that took place after that wasn't pretty. It wasn't that they'd had a fight, or even told each other that they didn't love the other. It was what had gone unsaid that had him sulking on the wall of another part of the castle. He'd been sulking. He couldn't deny it. He found himself lost in thought while the battle raged on around him.

"Seriously? This is how you're going to act? I'm embarrassed to be a part of you. No wonder she chose to be with Maxim and then wouldn't talk to you. You're not worthy. Of her or of the Redmont name. 'Redeemer', please." the wolf in his head scoffed at him. "Pathetic."

Of course Quinn couldn't help but agree with his inner beast. He was being very pathetic. Deanna was his first woman he'd ever loved. The first person he'd ever found himself needing in his life. He'd always displayed a cool, laid back persona, but it'd been just a mask that hid the anger inside. He'd spent his whole life controlling the anger. Pushing it aside and being "the better man".

Standing Quinn looked around him. He was done sulking. He took in the battles raging around him. In the distance he could detect Maxim's scent. He had joined the battle just as he'd expected. Surprisingly it wasn't too far from where he now stood...although it was several stories down. Closing his eyes he focused on Deanna's scent. It was in the opposite direction of Maxim, but it was strong. Once he'd locked into her scent the connection they'd developed when becoming mates, clicked in. He could feel her emotions.

The blood drained from his face when he felt the pain, and his hand went to his chest as a ghost pain went through him. She was hurt. Badly. "No." he whispered as he took off in her direction. The next word from his mouth was almost a battle cry, echoing off the walls, "MAXIM!". He screamed it hoping his brother would hear and come as soon as he could. If something had taken Deanna down then he wanted to have someone else at his side that at the very least could watch his back as he got De out and to a healer.

Quinn was moving much faster than any normal human could. "Hold on for me Deanna. I'll be there soon." his arms were pumping in tune with his legs, both hands still holding his borrowed swords. They weren't exactly in the best of shape still, if he looked closely at them he'd see that they were now chipped and no where near as sharp as they had been. As a matter of fact, it'd be surprising if they would even cut anything any more. However his fists wouldn't let go. Not now.

The closer he got to Deanna the more he took note of the people around him. There were innocents crying, bleeding, dying all around him. He didn't stop to help any of them. He passed children being eaten by cannibals, women crying over the body of their loved ones. Men dragging themselves away from the fighting, missing limbs and almost dead. None of them mattered.

Zombies approached him as he kept moving, his swords lashed out removing heads and arms with speed of a lycan. The dull pieces of metal slicing through the rotting flesh with ease. How Quinn had pulled upon so much of the power of his werewolf without actually shifting form, was something that he didn't even realize he'd done.

The scent of Deanna's blood came to him from a pile of moving bodies. The cannibals had swarmed her. Walking past the undead army, taking down those brave enough to get too close, Quinn made his way to his mate. At first he began slashing at the mass over Deanna, but soon he realized it'd be much quicker to just throw them off. The swords clattered to the ground as he took hold of the first man and flung him into a wall with a wet crunch. Quickly he threw them all off of her and finally stood still. Looking down at the body of his love, Quinn fell to his knees. Bits of flesh had been ripped from her body, the pool of blood that had been under her had even been lapped at, with ragged tongues.

Tears rushed to his eyes as he pulled Deanna up into his lap. Surely she wasn't dead. "Of course she is. Look at her." There had to be something he could do to heal her, and bring her back. "You don't have that power yet Quinn." Leaning down to her wounds he started licking them, as Deanna had done to his own, trying to heal her with his own power. "I told you it won't work. Even if you had that power right now, you're too late. She's dead."

Deanna's blood covering his face, Quinn pulled her close to him, hugging her tightly, looking up a the sky, "DON'T YOU THINK I KNOW THAT!?" he yelled. "I KNOW I'M TOO LATE! I KNOW I FAILED HER! JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP!" He screamed and ignored the Aliscowri that now piled on top of him, teeth digging into his flesh and ripping pieces of it away just as they had his lover.

"Aww," a soft voice came from beyond them. "Don't cry young man. You're ugly when you cry. My army will send you to your lover soon enough." she laughed and turned her back on Quinn. This was the woman who had killed his mate. How he knew he wasn't sure. Something about the way she held herself. The way she walked, and the way the others acted around her.

Teeth gritted, Deanna slowly slid out of his hands. "Lady, You haven't even seen my ugly face yet." he said his voice oddly calm. The Redeemer stood, despite the people on his back trying to keep him down, and as he stood, he shifted. Bones snapping and growing, skin splitting to reveal a hairy form underneath. As he stood to his full height the large gray werewolf stood a couple feet over most of the Aliscowri.

No longer needing the swords, his hands lashed out, cutting down those men and women who hadn't been smart enough to run when he changed. And once he had a clear path to Terra he charged, remaining silent. She'd turned her back on him and completely forgotten that he was even there, so sure was she that her army would take him down. She was cocky, and probably had every right to be. However, she hadn't planned on pissing off the Redmont Brothers. He knew that Maxim would be near now even if he couldn't see him.

Throwing himself into the air, Quinn let a small growl loose from his lips. He betrayed himself and watched as Terra's shocked face spun and quickly pulled a sword on him. He had gotten too close to stop now though, moving to the side just a bit Quinn continued his attack. The sword that had killed Deanna, and two other gods, slid into his torso easily, and out the other side. His speed pushed him forward until the sword was in to the hilt. Easily putting him into grappling distance.

One hand came up to block the other sword the bitch had been about to bring down on his head, but the other hand clawed out at her waist. The move wasn't something she'd expected, but her reaction speed was amazing. His claws made contact, but only just barely. They sliced through her shirt and into her abdomen. Terra brought her leg up and kicked him in the gut, forcing him away from her and pulling the sword out as well.

Quinn slid back a few feet, a grin on his face despite being kicked and ran through. He brought his bloodied claws up to his mouth and licked them clean. "Oh, you're going to be tasty." He growled. She could be hurt. She wasn't a god. She wasn't invincible. This bitch was dead.

Six sat back on the tower he'd taken perch on and watched the happenings down below. That bitch of a lycan had finally been put in her place and his only regret on that was the he hadn't been the one to do it. However, what really brought a smile to his face was what happened next. Quinn, the sullen hero came to cry over her corpse. It was heart breaking.

If the demon had any parental instinct at all he might have felt a bit of pride in what happened next. Quinn was finally letting loose. He was finally doing what he wanted the piss ant to do from the get go. It was like his little boy was growing up. He just smiled, and watched. He wasn't going to intervene. He loved the chaos that was happening around him. It was like being home. He'd always loved being a voyeur and he didn't see any sense in changing that now.

Ternal struggled. The Kharl'at was strong, but the Val'nothe was undeniably stronger. The ancient beast dwarfed Ternal. It wrapped its serpentine tail around the aquatic dragon and clenched brutally. For a moment Ternal was certain he'd be crushed. Poison poured into his mouth as the Val'nothe bled, but he resisted the urge to release and dug his teeth in deeper.

Chaos is always unpredictable. That's its beauty. Patterns grow boring, after a time. It's the insanity of chaos that makes things so vibrantly exotic.

Ribs cracking, Ternal had no choice but to forsake his grip on the Val'nothe. The creature cried out victoriously and whipped its tail, sending Ternal spiraling into a mass of rocks near the shoreline. The land greeted the dragon with a sickening crunch.

Chaos. What have you done?

Blood spotted his vision as Ternal gazed up at the sky. Verial and the Val'nothe were on his periphery. Verial had taken the offensive. My friend. Ternal paid them little heed. His single teal eye stared instead at the lovely sky and the roiling clouds of smoke that blotted out the Gracious Sisters, his ruined right eye blind to the magnificent sight. The stars are so vibrant tonight, he thought as his blood poured into the ocean.

The Val'nothe screamed. Men and women screamed. The stars, they didn't scream.. They never screamed. They only hid behind smoke.

Deanna's eyes suddenly took on an amber color when she responded. Now Madrin knew what he recognized within her she was a shifter. He was glad to see one on his side for a change, usually he only met them as an enemy. Then the Aliscowri horde launched its final assault on Grand city and they weren't alone either. Suddenly a beautiful woman raised her hands to the sky and the earth erupted like a rotten egg spraying an army of undead monsters all over the land. If there was one thing he hated most it was definitely the undead.

"You damn soulless bitch I will see you buried one way or another!, Madrin put all his outrage into that shout and startled several of the soldiers out of their shocked state. Deanna gave the command to head for the gate and they moved out. Many of the undead fell before the unit as they carved a path to the gates. However, one be one the brave men fell before the soulless horde increasing Madrin's rage by the second. Innocents fell like harvested wheat before the horde without any discrimination between men, women and children. Rational was gradually slipping his control as his rage was unleashed. His foes were virtually exploding from the impact of his sword into fleshy piles of blood and bone. All the wounds he had taken where nothing but a dull throbbing at edge of his mind. A verdant green light appeared before his mind's eye clearing the bloody mist and restoring his normal thought process. He understood that Aurora was helping him think clearly on a battlefield while allowing his rage to fuel his human muscles. Madrin had no idea why she bothered to help him in this way but, he was grateful beyond words to receive her blessing. He was born cursed for battle to a father twisted by lust for power. He felt he was unworthy of her gift but, he would take it all the same. Madrin had never had access to his strategic training while fighting, so it was a shocking at first.

His mother often told him to take out the leadership and the army would tear itself apart. Madrin new that Deanna was heading for that damned necromancer to cut off her pretty little head. Thanks to what he had seen so far of Deanna's prowess with a sword he was fairly certain the sinister women was about to get a nasty surprise. Madrin had studied several species of undead in his travels and he knew a lot about Liches in particular. He was no scholar but, when he learned that those twisted creatures were mages who had used several dark rituals to turn themselves into immortal beings. That kind of caught his interest. He didn't think one person could control such an army without a buffer of some kind. Gerthluo had used his commanders to do that for his army, so Madrin knew that was perfectly reasonable. Those damn dark wizards were the most likely choice for a necromancer. The Aliscowri however were an unknown factor in the fight. They seemed like crazed cannibals to him so he would show them no mercy.

Madrin cut his way thru the horde to the nearest Lich as it cast some type of purple beam at a nearby soldier. While it was preparing another attack he stepped up behind it and separated it from neck to sternum into two flaps of clothing and skin. Suddenly twenty of the horde just turned to dust as the creatures death howl echoed on the air.

"Soldiers of Grand city hear me, take out those blasted floating robes and your odds will much improve," Madrin shouted at the top of his lungs putting all he could into his voice. He was sure he only reached the nearest friendly ears but, they would pass the word along. The tide gradually began to turn as more Liches fell to the organized attacks of his allies. Some of the civilians even joined in picking up the weapons of fallen soldiers as they gained hope from the sudden change in battle. They weren't trained soldiers but they had the hearts of true heroes as they defended their homes. While he was shouting a wraith had snuck up behind him and attempted to drive its fist thru his midsection. However, when its icy hands touched his skin it pulled back as if burned. The wraiths hand was slowly evaporating it screamed in pain. The last thing it saw before it vanished completely was Madrin's two handed sword cutting it in two.

"Looks like you choose the wrong person ghost boy," Madrin let out a deep chuckle to the surrounding area. "Aurora be praised who's next," he took in the four other wraiths waiting to follow the first if he didn't know better he would of sworn they looked terrified.

The fighting drew him closer to the dark witches place in the battle he noticed Deanna was on her back bleeding from a severe abdominal wound. The witch was laughing and then a huge man with short cut blond hair drop from the sky and screamed at the soulless witch in righteous wrath. He came out of the pile of stupid creatures that had tried to stop him rising up as a great grey wolf man and plowing his way thru the horde to the dark women's unpleasant surprise. Madrin was surprised to see another one. He wondered if that was Quinn or Maxim based on the way Deanna said those names almost like a caress, he knew she must love them very much. When the shifter was suddenly knocked to the ground Madrin realized how skilled and damn quick that bitch was. The fighting was moving away from the confrontation he knew he would soon be away from any kind of help he could give the poor man.

"That's the way man show her what real love can do to heartless wretches like her, remember man you are the master of the wolf never let it think otherwise!" Madrin said that with more than his own loud voice he knew the man would hear. "Aurora, Elysia, Galenous, and Tempesturo please give him strength" he prayed with all his heart as the battle took him elsewhere.

Even though so many others had perished or simply vanished, never to be seen again, Maxim had always known that his twin sister would return. Their paths were entangled permanently by the link they shared, both as siblings, but also by their shared undeath. Her arrival was something he sensed on an almost instinctive level, and a slight smile of relief was present upon those ashen, handsome features for a moment. Once upon a time, they had been bitter rivals... but when faced with the prospect of her death, she had been the first and only to be turned by Maxim himself. And as a result, she was the only Redmont vampire who didn't suffer from the sun's rays.

"Isabella... welcome home."

With everything that had happened in the past few months -- and the many ways that his life had been irrevocably changed -- the sudden presence of his twin sister was a welcome development. Fiery, scarlet-shaded eyes swept across the horizon towards the docks for a moment, and then settled back upon the barbaric Aliscowri that had attacked while Grand City was still reeling from the Val`nothe's destructive rampage. The gleaming onyx sheen of his armor was even more pronounced as the pale light of the full moon illuminated him, that deadly glaive balanced upon his shoulders with muscular arms draped around it for the moment. For a moment, he considered departing, as dawn was only a bit over an hour away and he knew that Quinn and Deanna were perfectly capable of defending what remained of the city. He turned away, and that was when he heard Quinn's enraged call... and the former slayer could only think of one reason for it.

While Quinn smashed and slashed his way through the screeching and howling monstrosities, Maxim was dashing across the rooftops and racing ahead towards the midst of the battle -- the few Aliscowri unfortunate enough to be in his way never had a chance, as he mercilessly slaughtered them without even slowing down. Blood splattered across his armor for the first time, and once more, he was back where he belonged: on the battlefield. However, Quinn made it to the lifeless form of Deanna first, and the way he cradled her against him made it all too clear that it was too late.

Scarlet-colored eyes narrowed, and for a moment, the hunter was plagued by memories of better days, and regrets of paths not taken. He forced himself to look away for a moment, and anger overwhelmed every single other emotion threatening to surface at that very moment -- sorrow would have its moment, but only later. In a single night he had technically reunited with his sister, the only member of the family whom he trusted fully and would defend to the bitter end... but his closest friend had been cast to the unrelenting darkness of the void.

He stepped off of that ledge he had paused upon, and he hit the ground moving with that same purposeful, fluid stride -- but the way he wielded that twin-bladed weapon was far more deliberate than it had been. The Aliscowri were no match for him, and with each spiralling slash or sudden stab, another one fell. He knew the frame of mind that his brother was in a bit too well, and it only encouraged him to buy Quinn time by distracting their enemies. Claws left deep scratches and dents in the once-pristine surface of the armor, and gaping maws of jagged teeth were summarily smashed in by a clenched fist or heel whenever they got too close. For the moment, even he wasn't bothering to keep himself in check -- those unlucky enough to stumble and fall were kept on the ground by swift, crushing kicks or stomps until they made no further attempts to rise, prompting a rather disappointed glare from Maxim. "How very unimpressive..."

And, as if to answer that indirect challenge, the woman taunting Quinn also drew Maxim's attention as well. It was, however, a rare set of circumstances: though it was obvious they now had a formidable opponent, rather than the amateurs that had tried to slow their progress, he found he didn't care about whether or not she'd provide a challenge. He only hoped she wouldn't die all that easily, so that she'd have a very painful chance to learn what Redmont wrath was like.

For the moment, they had something of an advantage -- Terra hadn't yet realized she was dealing with two vengeful Redmonts instead of just one.

"There is a war goin' on outside these doors," the pudgy 'tender kicked a waterlogged barrel over behind the raggedy bar, "and just when I was starting to get everythin' tidied up from them waters too."

"Are you trying to say I can't get a drink then?" Isabella's pity pool was all but dried up. There were no answers here for her.

The once slayer gripped the handle of the custom broadsword at her back, pulling it slowly from the sheath. The bartender moved down the length of the bar further away from her, hands frantically searching for what Isabella imagined was a weapon kept for just these types of encounters.

"Calm yourself, simpleton. This isn't for you....just yet." The stool the vampire had sat on hit the ground with a loud clatter of wooden legs against stone floor and she had vanished just as fast. Only the swinging double doors settling back into their proper positions let the bartender know that she had left his establishment and moved back out onto the chaotic streets of Grand City.

She moved through them quickly, the living and the dead, using her over sized sword like a modern day baseball bat, swatting at them all as she cleared her path towards their King's palace.

"MAXIM!"

The scream rang through the streets and Isabella went on point immediately, using her sensitive ears to try to pinpoint the location of the call. It was her half-brother, no doubt there. The 'thrope himself.

An undead soldier quickly snatched her arm in her moment of distraction and attempted to make an evening's snack of her forearm. "Not this time, stooge." Her other hand reached across her torso, snatching him by the chin length hair left on his head, and her other hand moving to grip into his shoulder. The skin on his neck started to slowly tear, coming apart like the crust on a freshly baked bread roll, then suddenly it split, his again lifeless body slumping to the ground. His locks of hair, still entwined in her fingers, keeping his head from the same fate.

The Guardian let out a low guttural growl, they were in the wild now, and it was her kind of wilderness. The undead troops nearest her fell back. It was common knowledge amongst all animals, living or dead, the female of the species is -always- deadlier than the male. They had met her male counterpart, if she was deadlier, then they knew now was the time to back away.

Isabella moved towards the source of the heralding scream. A very familiar shape, clad in emerald armor, flew from one rooftop to another over the street in which she stood. Her skillfully trained eyes followed him, as if he were moving in slow motion, even noticing the crudely carved 'R' upon his shoulder piece.

"There you are." She whispered the words quickly, mostly to herself, as he disappeared beyond the rooftops of the square. She was on the scent, a hunter by nature, and she followed on the heels of her brother, the King.

They arrived nearly in unison, though he arrived a mere moment before her. It did not matter their order, all three Redmonts had arrived too late. The twins spoke without words, watching as their half-brother cradled the lifeless body of Deanna, a woman who had been an important character in their chapter of the Redmont Legacy. An important woman to her brothers. Isabella looked to the ledge where he had frozen in place and she knew Maxim was hit hard by the scene before him, harder than he would likely ever admit.

Suddenly, with speed superior to her own, her brother plowed through the undead army still lingering, making his way to Quinn, taking his overwhelming pain and using it to wreck and mutilate anything unlucky enough to get in his way.

"Ah, nothing like a little apocalyptic showdown to get the blood flowing."

Isabella sprung forward, using all of her strength to catapult herself over the crowd, landing with a crash into a wall of undead soldiers that were making their way towards Quinn as he began his battle with Deanna's undo'er. They toppled like a precariously positioned design of dominoes, Isabella rebalanced quickly standing over them, using the sheer weight of her titanic sized broadsword to slice through their necks respectively as each tried to regain their footing.

"He can handle her." Her voice echoed across the city street to her raven haired brother as she sliced off the arm of a passing undead draftee. "He -needs- to do this... Himself." Her golden orbs pierced through the chaos of the moment straight into Maxim's crimson eyes. He, above all, would understand her words. The need for redemption, the need for revenge.