taking from xeonhart

"I doubt you're coming to your Mother, filth." Words are uttered in a low tone....

Hopefully, Mother has accepted this soul. Even if he won't be rewarded for it...

It would still make him feel happier knowing that Gilligan is suffering in Hel than anything else.

With a satisfied sigh, Leonid gets up. With a hand, the blood is wiped off the bow-.. though, it only gets stuck on his hand instead. He doesn't seem to mind too much.

"What are we going to do with the body, then?" The question is addressed to Viktor, in a tone that is far too joyous for the circumstances.

Though, they are certainly joyous for him.
(Leonid Asimov)

Xeonhart approached and took notice of what seemed to be Gilligan with a letter or paper beside her..
(Xeonhart Sorath)

Xeonhart Sorath asks, "What the hell is this?"

They had come right at the tail-end of whatever morbid sacrifice Monroe had mentioned to them. The teenager stared at the deceased body of the mutant, and then to Leonid.

"What in the actual fuck."

It's said without reservation or hesitation in their tone. They were genuinely baffled.
(Blair)

Another one gone, then.

It's no surprise, of course, given that the destiny of Mire dwellers is to eventually fall. Although while he continues to watch, the Prince makes a brief remark.

"Odd that she chose to fight this."

"Given her recent defeats."

Perhaps it was simply her way out- perhaps she simply knew that her time was coming. But..

His gaze briefly turned to Xeonhart. There, he finally smiles.

"What you witness is what happens to all of your kind, of course."

"Inevitable death."
(Ambrose Roche)

There is hardly any amusement in Annete's expression. If anything, she seems utterly ininterested by the ongoings, though...

Eyes do fall upon Xeonhart as Ambrose addresses him. No words are said - but her glare says enough.

The sentiment expressed by Ambrose is shared.
(Annete Alricht)

In contrast, there's a sharp, foxlike smile present on Monroe's features. "Tsss. That does suck, doesn't it? Reminds me of my dad and his dealings."

The pinpricks of her pupils flit between all present, and finally upon Blair, to whom she grants the solace of a hand over the general area of his sights, and an arm that hoists him by the waist. "Nothin' more to see here."
(Monroe pyr Docro)

Leonid Asimov picks up Strange Paper.

Leonid shrugs. A parting gaze is offered to those still lingering at the scene before he begins to make his way out.

With Viktor and the corpse in tow, of course.
(Leonid Asimov)

Gilligan had just been rescued earlier and fell right back into the hands of the enemy? Did she die alone with only enemies present? He had so many questions about what he was looking at but the rage quickly pushed those questions from his head.

Red began to fill in his vision as the realization of Gilligan's death settled in..

"Which one of you filth did this to her..."

Xeonhart's metaphysical mana began to form a camouflage over him as he drew his blade.

"Where are you taking her?"
(Xeonhart Sorath)

A tilt of his head.

Would he genuinely do this, even when his odds are this bad? It amuses the Prince to no end... and yet, despite a smile on his face, he remarks.

"Filth? There's no Mire denizens here other than yourself." An opinion about their kind was rather clear.

"And what would you do if I said that was me, hm?"

"Not that you could do anything the last time."

Quite often, myriad people and creatures alike come before the Prince - confident in their ability. But..

By the time they leave, they're a crippled mess. A position that he was more than confident in.
(Ambrose Roche)

"Oh?.."

A grin makes its way to Leonid's features as someone steps up, and seemingly ready to fight.

"I'd watch your mouth if I were you, creature - lest you end up just like this one," the young Asimov kicks Gilligan's corpse in the side for demonstration, "but it was me and my friend here who did the deed."

"Are you going to do something about it?" A taunt comes the mutant's way. Leonid is ready for a challenge - for that matter, he is standing still, waiting.

(Leonid Asimov)

Annete Alricht is now following you.

Aerica and Epialos do soon return and, of course, another contender had joined the scene. This time, one who looked terribly drab. "... Honestly, the Mirelings fashion choices are so uninspired. Black and red, haven't seen that before."

The red must be blood and the black an ashen dye. Who'd have thunk they would be wanting for diversified dyes.

"Oh, is he complaining his friend died, milord?" Aerica stared off at the now dead Denzin of the mire. "... Well, nothing of value was lost. Maybe he can make a new friend."
(Aerica Fischer)

Quietly Annete hums... simply observing this exchange. Though, she does look up at Ambrose. A nudge comes the Prince's way.

"Don't take too long," she murmurs. She is confident in the Prince's ability to win - after all, very few could bring him down. She seems more concerned about the time that fight would take away from the time they could be spending together...
(Annete Alricht)

Yes! The Trio left and came back a duo. The fate of Abe being up in the air.

"Oh! It's you again. If our delicious friend would like to join Abe, you're allowed! Or maybe Gilligan instead?"

He'd scratch his head, oh there was a lot going on here. Would he bother...?

Probably not! There was a sizable amount of distance between Xeonhart and Epialos. The Deathknight could run if he so chose.

"I /really/ think you should take me up on my offer."
(Epialos)


"I don't care if I am here alone surrounded by nothing but foe. Id rather die here attempting vengeance for my fallen allies over leaving here to be unharmed. I am fearless and perhaps I do not stand a chance but I will keep coming until I do!"


No more words needed to be had with them, he had one purpose in mind while he was here and he would give it all he had despite his recent loss and injuries.

Veins began to bulge out around the eyes of Xeonhart as he locked eyes with Leonid.

Upon hearing Epialos he then realized they had obtained Abe as well...this wasn't good but made him strive to fight even harder. He ran forward seeking to pass by them all to attack Leonid.

(Xeonhart Sorath)

"Ah..?"

"Is that what you insist upon, then? Good. Let this endless violence flow."

Though, with Xeonhart trying to make a dash past him, there seems to be an evident surprise portrayed upon the face of the Prince; something that makes him rather...

Unamused by such fact, to say the least.

"..?"

"First you exchange such words with me, and then you try to run past me?"

There, a shadowy amalgamation emerges- splitting into myriad fractions of self, representing the magi that has been captured ever since within the Collective.

"Rude. Very rude."

And they all block the path of Xeonhart; lunging, attacking, even going as far as to fling the toxins that the Prince wields.

The very core of the Collective remains by his side - wielding the bow that was on his back just a moment ago. Dark arrows are loaded, and fired all the same.

"You forget where you are, Mireling."

"Don't be rude again."
(Ambrose Roche)

Ambrose Roche assumes the Caster stance!

Xeonhart Sorath says, "<What in the hell..>"

It's safe to assume the Sarradian would NOT stand behind the Mireling that is being shot at.
(Axel)

"... Not much of a survival instinct in this one." Charging head-first into a hive of poisonous bees to avenge their dead friend, knowing they will likely perish. Well... "...Points for determination." The man was already rushing ahead, b-lining for Leonid no less. Was anyone to intercept? Certainly not Aerica. For all their talk, they knew a grown adult was likely to be more of a threat than Aerica could handle.

Well, Sohan was the exception.

"I honestly hope we burn down this Inn last. They provide so much entertainment."

Ambrose does not take kindly to the intent, however. His shadowy apparitions all pile onto the Mireling, strangling his attempts to cut down the murderer. Aerica does grin at the Roche's determination. "Now this is a fight."
(Aerica Fischer)

"Hm..."

Leonid shrugs. The weariness is still there, present - his circuits have not quite recovered still... but that would hardly deter him from a fight.

The bloodied bow is brought closer to the violin to strike the first note-...

But, it seems that someone will stand in his way.

"Let me have this one," Leonid politely calls out as he takes steps forward. "I'll teach him a lesson - two, lessons, even." Searing lilac hues squint.

But - there is nothing in his movements to suggest he would try to stop Ambrose from fighting, if he so wishes. A polite request has been made, after all - not a demand.
(Leonid Asimov)

Axel exclaims, "Icon yttok!"

It seemed Ambrose was showing his true form this time as a shadowy amalgamation took form over him. He took a stance bracing himself for the power that he was about to clash with.

He was running past Ambrose but was stopped in his tracks..now Leonid and Ambrose stood beside eachother, which would he fight?

It was evident they both wanted his head..
(Xeonhart Sorath)

Occultism isn't just an art of destruction.

It is cruelty personified. The Prince, as poised and calm as he was, harboured the nature most cruel- for the torment he devised for his victims was far more painful than mere physical pain or a broken body.

After all, even with the broken body, most remained free in spirit. But him?

He will take everything they have.
Their most precious from them.

"It has become clear to me that Mirelings do not even understand the dark arts they wield."

"You pompously flaunt your allegiance to the Mother, this 'Nyx' you speak of... but she's a fake. She's no god, no Primordial."

"Else, she would've taught you all better."

Dark arrows and toxins flood Xeonhart; they rend his flesh, and his lungs become full of the vile poison that makes it difficult to breathe. The Collective does a fine job in not only protecting him, but ensuring that he would keep up an assault against Sorath that could not be held back.

"But I'll do you a favour."

"I'll show you how real Occult looks like."

There, for the first time, Ambrose takes the bow- for it was previously wielded by the Collective, as it fought for him; a single dark arrow is trained upon it, aimed at Xeonhart, and then..

The arrow is let loose.
Piercing his heart.

But he's not dead - even if he might wish that he would be i nthe coming moments. There, an ethereal part of him, his voice, his very being, it escapes his body; by the dark lining of the arrow, it joins the Collective.


Xeonhart's voice and mind is stolen, added to the Collective.
It speaks in whispers with his voice.
The part of him and his personality stolen.


"..?"

Yet, the Prince seems surprised at what he retrieves. It's almost like he does a 'reading' onto the very essence that he stole, and soon, a smile curls on his lips.

"--Determination? Really?"

"Should I expect you to come back for this some day, hm?"
(Ambrose Roche)

After the Arrow left Xeonhart he fell to his knees gasping and trying to speak out but there was no strength to generate words, A void was felt within him, his drive that fueled him to fight as he did was now missing and he just sat in the grass covered in blood. Xeonhart's eyes remained wide and shaking as he stared forwards staring through everything as if he wasn't even present in his mind..

His resolve and passion to keep going is where he drew his power from and now it was nothing but quiet darkness within him. He couldn't speak but knew he needed to do something, he wouldn't let this be the end of him.

He would retrieve what was lost again, he would find the willpower to do so somehow. Xeonhart's eyes seemed to focus in as if he came back to reality, he stood up and locked gaze with Ambrose, he would use what little strength he had to speak into his mind.

He had to leave the scene before the Vampire Prince took much more then just his drive and voice, the very things that lifted him out of the Darkness and into the lands of Esshar. He would find it hard to get back to his normal self with what was taken and one might even ask why go on?

He had no answer but simply knew he had too, he couldn't let them get away with the lives they claimed from Shadowmire. He lifted himself off his knees and released a series of Shadowballs forward to block the view as he used his illusion magic to fade into the shadows to flee from sight seeing as he had no fight left in him and to remain would be foolish.


(Xeonhart Sorath)

Xeonhart Sorath says in telepathy, I will be coming..for what you took and much more..

Viktor's blood drenched clothing are self cleaned, Gilligan's blood is soaked into his own being - a hand resting on Leonid's shoulder once more, a shake of his head and a sigh escaping his features.

The Delisle pushed himself a little too hard this time around as well, but, it was all well and worth it, for he'd avenged a fellow soldier - a Corporal he'd taken pride in leading into battle.

"... you're avenged, Nathan. May you rest well." The Chanting slowly quiets down, more and more - those connected to him through Andromeda calm down and dissipate back into whence they came.

The Delisle, held the head of Gilligan - a present to Augustus, who'd failed to avenge their soldiers.

A sigh escaped him, the night he'd spent in Asphodel left him drained - yet the chaos he'd gained in that night alone is driving him through battles with valiant efforts.

A gaze trails over to Ambrose, having fought yet another Mire creature himself - a grin of approval is sent towards the Prince's way, arms wrap against his chest, Gilligan's head still in hand.

"Been a while, Ambrose. You fight as strong as ever." He stated, merely cheering on the Prince, sort of.

The Delisle cracks his neck from side to side.

"... I have some questions about your collective."
(Viktor Delisle)

How many voices were there already?

Ten? Fifteen? Twenty? No...

More. By now, the Collective has been an amassed collection of myriad magi that had a part of them stolen by the Prince. How peculiar it is, for him to hear such words of vengeance within his mind, by the Mireling no less.

Yet he smiles.

The grasp over the essence, pulled by the dark arrow, only makes him smile- he quietly twirls it in his hand, soon stretching it up to the Collective.

And it consumes that part as well.

"How small they are..."

"They're better off surrendering their lives and just joining the Collective as a whole."

It's one thing to steal a part of someone - and another to consume them whole. Which makes it all more intriguing for the Prince...

What would it be like, to possess the full lives of many, as opposed to only a part of them?

Still, his gaze turns towards Viktor. His head tilts a little bit, and while the shadowy amalgamation already begins to dissipate, he soon remarks.

"Ask, then."

For now, he was done with that mutant. Besides..

It seems that he ran off somewhere.
(Ambrose Roche)