Yes, help arrives

Yes/No (Even) - [4,5] Yes… Skrain, Zeya and the prisoners arrive to help

How effective is their arrival?

How Much - [5] More than expected

What is the nature of their aid?

Action Focus - [JS] Protect (Mystical)

—

A chorus of bare and booted feet heralds the arrival of the Elven girls’ allies - just in time. Kulrakan roars in frustration, as the ragged band of Dark Elves piles into the chamber, lead by Zeya and Skrain. Looks of shock and horror spread across their weary faces, but it does not diminish the resolve that Lavorra sees there too.

Zeya, still wearing the oversized underclothes of her disguise, clutches the Reculus staff, while Skrain hefts a blunt-looking maul.

Kulrakan gathers himself, smirking, his maw still covered with blood, his voice thick with it.

“So you bring me more whores to sample, is that your great strategy, Paladin? It doesn’t matter if you’ve killed every snivelling Daemonspawn in this place, my seed and my ascension will endure.” His eyes rove the crowd, and alight on Skrain. “And you, Skrain, little thin-blood. Always shrinking from your Abyssal duty, always succumbing to the blight of kindness and compassion. I think I will enjoy it very much, when I make you **** the Paladin.”

Skrain barks something in the Abyssal tongue, and nearly bolts towards the Daemon-Lord, but Zeya grabs his arm, heaving him back into the crowd of freed Spell-rangers.

“If you have something Lavvy, now would be a great time!” Zeya calls.

She finds herself rising, wobbling as she stands on the plush mattress of the bed. But she catches herself, leaping forward, feet slapping against the polished floor. She ignores that she’s naked, flesh wobbling, ignores that she’s unarmed. Ignores the dreadful, bruising pain in the muscles and tissue of her lower body. “Just get me to him.” She growls, already starting her charge.

Zeya slams the Reculus staff into the floor, sending a spider-web of burning blue cracks across the glassy surface. In the back of her mind, Lavorra marvels at her friends new power. The Spell-rangers speak as one, chanting - joined in the Dark Elven tongue by Melira. Scorching red glyphs surround Lavorra, cling to her, armouring and protecting her even as Kulrakan meets her charge with a blast of vile magic.

She shrugs it off, passing her allies. “Club please!” She calls to Skrain, who throws it to her waiting hands.

Kulrakan screams in fury as his spell dissipates against the protection provided by the Dark Elves, and then his eyes grow wide with fear - the energies of Kali’s spell wrapping around Skrain’s maul.

Lavorra feels her amulet burn against her skin.

Got you now, fucker.

Her feet slide across the floor with a screech of flesh, her heels burning, as she ducks under a vicious swing from three of his four arms. And then she leaps, swinging up into the air with the enchanted maul, occult and divine magic combining as the head of it crashes into, and smashes apart, on the Daemon’s injured chin.

His howl is all the victory she needs, as the **** of the blow sending him spinning back through the portal, his arms flailing, trying to find purchase. But it is no use, and the forces charged against him hurl his form back into the abyss, banishing him utterly from the material world.

Zeya breaks the Reculus staff over her knee with a crack, and the portal vanishes.

Lavorra is barely aware of the commotion around her, as the broken maul slips from her hands.

All she feels is the agonising pain in her lower body, her **** at Kulrakan’s hands catching up to her with a vengeance. Her head aches too, wreckage from the battle inside her mind clouding her thoughts, as she slips painfully onto her side.

She shakes, legs tucked in against herself, her hands sandwiched between her knees as she tries to make herself small enough that the pain will leave her alone.

It’s Melira who reaches her first, gathering Lavorra up against her, grey skin warm and comfortingly soft against her pale freckled body. Then Zeya is there, cradling Lavorra’s head at first, and then both of them, as the three women find solace in each other. Skrain approaches last, sinking to the floor and putting his strong, protective arms around the three - uncertainly at first, and then tenderly. Lavorra finds herself smothered and enveloped, with love and care and safety, and lets herself sink into that warmth without reservation.

It’s finally over.