Amalarra mentally curses herself as the telltale snap of a twig sounds out through the silence.
[ooc]Readied action is too cast Mage Armor if the threat is hostile.[/b]
Two goat-hoofed, horned humanoids with blue skin, armed with wickedly shrp scimitars walk out from the underbrush, their souless yellow eyes gleam at you.
Look what we have here. The one said. The corruption hadn't taken these ones prey, yet.
Indeed, brother. Said the other. Our master would appreciate a few more heads from meddlers.
Or we can give them the opportunity to surrendur. We are always in need of more mortal slaves.
So what be it? Death or service? They ask at once.
Devic throws a bomb at the first one to talk.
Snachala ty.
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"...move" Geralt growls out, fed up with the interruptions of this mission
Geralt tsks and moves up as well, slashing with his sword at the closest one after Devic tosses her bomb.
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Slaver's...Good fighting always helps, Ammon says underbreathe, Death, yours to be more specific...willingly helping do this to the world you've lost your living privileges. Ammon swing's at the nearest target
Ammon's strike meets the blade of the horned warrior's scimitar. You're awfully eager to meet your doom. Fine. The beast pushes the blade away and flourishes. Fine. Pick a god and start praying. Then he slashes forward.
The blade slashes itself across Ammon's side, leaving a thin red streak where it touches.
Geralt's strike, meanwhile meets it's mark, slashing down the warrior's unarmored chest, it grimaces in pain, but then smiles. You have an aura about you, boy. He said. You feel like the forrest.
Devic's bomb misses the mark, only making the warrior by Ammon flinch from light and noise the explosion.
A silver projection goes over the Drow woman like a small suit of armor. Changing in under common, she cast a spell.
You recognize these beasts from your teachings. The treacherous Incubi, deadly warriors straight out of the Abyss.
Skjor's blow cleaves a shallow wound into the shoulder of the unoccupied fighter. It winces in pain and then growls. Your music will silence, as well as the voices of this world.
The warrior engaged with Ammon shrugs off the spell and curses at Amalarra. You need training, Drow. He said. Your people were foolish to leave our thrall.
"perhaps you should focus more on the man with the blade covered in your blood?" Geralt bites out condescendingly, blue mist leaving his body through his mouth with every ragged breath.
Rushing out of his small cloud of blue temporal energy, Geralt wordlessly attacks once more.
Giving a unnoticeable grin at the demon, the world around Geralt slows to a snails pace as his eyes glow a eldritch blue.
Time energy rushes into the wound of the demon and Spears into it, trying to cause as much damage as it can.
"you don't deserve all that time...so give it here!"
SHUT UP! Leave them alone Ammon screams with anger, I won't let anyone die!
The warrior whips the tip of his blade to graze against Geralt's chest, the attack stinging, but leaving you still standing.
The warrior's eyes widen as time slows with the strike, Im...pressive. It growls as things speed back to normal. You will have a place in our army.
The warrior engaged with Ammon is taken aback by the power of the blow. Though he managed to step back and avoid being hewn in half, he still takes the edge of the blade.
He slashes forth in retaliation.
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EY
Devic throws a slightly liquid-like material at the creatures, appearing to sail way off course.
...but it lands on it's mark a yard behind them. The blob bursts open, entangling the horned warriors at the edge of its range.
And the ground only burns a little. Devic also gives them the "what is it" gesture.
Ignoring the blood beginning to seep into his clothes, Geralt expends another mote of time and whirls in place, attacking quick like a savage, a trail of blue following each strike, giveing Geralt the image of a graceful ribbon dancer.
"Big talk...but can you keep up!?!"
Not wanting to waste what remained of her magics, she quickly pulls out her hand crossbow at from her holster and fires off a bolt with surprising accuracy.
Devic's blob covers the cloven feet of the warrior engaged with Ammon and Geralt, but the one engaged with Skjor quicksteps out of the way.
Caught, grimacing at his situation, the warrior is soon slashed on the face by Geralt's glowing blade.
Longer than you can, boy. It hissed.
Meanwhile, Amalarra's bolt hit's it's mark, grazing the shoulder of Skjor's opponant, it growls out in pain, but looks otherwise unhindered.
The Trapped incubus struggles against it's restraints, releasing himself and regaining his composure.
The warrior engaged with Skjor throws out his hand, aimed to Skjor, Devic, and Amalarra, and releases a cone of purple light.
Ya. Vy... Devic looks down again at the jungle floor, suddenly it's as if everything from the last few hours catches up with her. The stakes, the reality of the situation, and how hopelessly out of her league she is, all force their way into Devic's mind.
Vse umirayet. Eto pravda. Ya, veroyatno, pervym.
"Hmm, you should of served us. My ma could've used some pleasure boys on the street corner like you."
Amalarra takes another shot after loading at the same incubus and once again seens on target with her attack.
Geralt let's out a impish grin, hidden by his lower half mask, to hide his fear
"do you tell that to the lady's? So despicable..." smile still on his face, Geralt stabs at the demon again.
I have one more trick left, something i've been working on Ammon takes a single step back, resting his blade on his shoulder balancing it with one hand. The begins tracing esoteric symbols in the air, traces of light following his finger tip, I am the bone of my sword, Steel is my body and iron my blood! Quickly he sling's his blade back to the ground, it cracks the ground moreso than before, it glows with an odd light.
The bolt is knocked away in a desperate slash, but looking closer, you see it nicked the back of the warrior's hand, steaming purple blood dripping out.
Struck again by the masked boy, the warrior growls, no more words, just anger.
The other incubus, about ready to leave his own entrapments, yanks his cloven feet from the tanglefoot blob.
Music will not help you, Celestial. The warrior faced with him growled, though still focused on the goo on his feet. You will die here, and no one will fnd the bodies And he engages the rockstar in melee again.
"Damn, quit moving!" Amalarra yells as she aims another shot her hand crossbow. It goes wild as she adjust her aim not to hit Skjor.
Feeling a little more confident thanks to the rage, Geralt continues to antagonize the demon as best as he can
"In the words of one of my favorite Internet videos..." he clears his throat as he ducks under a furious swipe "...I CAN DANCE ALL DAY, TRY AND HIT ME, TRY AND HIT ME!" and he attacks once more, blade once again blue and wispy.
Devic fires off her mark, as she stays rattled, even through the power of metal.
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Ammon charge's toward whichever one of these monster's has been mocking him and his friends. And well cleave's him asunder. DIE MONSTER, I'LL SLAUGHTER YOU AND ALL YOUR KIND Ammon scream's in getting angerier as the fight goes on
As Geralt strikes and then rewinds to strike again, landing vital blows to the Incubus and putting him on his knees, he opens his mouth to get in one more taunt, but then is soon silenced by Ammon's shout and slash, cleaving the warrior in half.
The other Incubus notes his fallen comrade with a single raised brow and a hum. Well... That did not go as expected. He drops his sword, raising his hands and smiling. I surrender. He said.
After the wracking experience of Crushing Despair, Devic has a simple question for the surviving demon.
Ehh, why we let you?
She approaches the creature, staying behind the bigger folks, curiosity still gets to better of her.
Hope for good answer.
"good question Devic" Geralt drawls out, adrenaline fading answer fast as the battle fear.
Walking past the alchemist towards the other demon, Geralt points his blade at the monster and asks
"...so are you gonna awnser chump?"
All the while, covered in the cool blue mist of his motes of time, healing him and repairing his clothes
"Spill the beans chump. If anything I learned from my folks back home is their are certain ways to make people talk. It's up to you wither or not you make this experience pleasurable or," she looks at the Incubus with a smirk before becoming a scowl, "painful."
Geralts sword falls a bit and slightly turns to the side, giving Amalarra a slightly uncomfortable look
"..."
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Giving a sigh at people's antics, Skjor looked at the others before saying, "Shall we attempt to keep everybody's genitalia inside one's clothing? I would much appreciate it." Turning towards the surrendered demon, Skjor said, "You have relinquished yourself into our care, demon. I do not like you, you have gone against the natural order of nature by tampering with the very fabric of time itself. For that alone I should part your foul head from your body. You will tell us why you are doing this."
Just let me kill it, It's a demon, they don't deserve to live. They're corrupt abominations who kill for fun. Ammon becoming surprisingly cold His blade still drawn and pointing toward the demon
"O' come on, I was just saying if he doesn't comply a certain part of an Incubus's pride is going to go snip," she makes a scissors motion with her hand.
no torture, no mistakes, not this time. only death, revenge must be taken for the crimes of all demons Ammon removes his helmet, his usual joy replaced by very real rage and sorrow. teeth grinding, nostrils flaring, eyes not breaking contact with the incubus