Clear, Violet Skies

The sudden fireball vomiting from and through the First Station’s fortified wall had enhanced the chaos spread by the loss of the Warden; now Braves were directing Hammers in different directions or tasks, ranging from protecting the Warden to rescuing survivors at the Station to continuing to press the attack. The Keepers, seldom in leadership roles, were at a loss as to how to direct the Braves on anything aside from trying to finally kill the Bitter Nines in what was increasingly appearing to be a war of attrition against the Lawmen rather than the heavily outnumbered terrorists. Without orders to vary their entrance, then, a hundred Lawmen had joined the fray from the Fifth Station; while they would regret flying so close together around John's minions, Golgon and his people had begun to feel overwhelmed even before the appearance of this platoon.

They were out of time, then... and Golgon just had to hope the time purchased thus far was enough. “Tell John the Newman we need to be extracted, now!” the Ootuk commanded Rosa who, despite her efforts, had to admit they were being pressed to their limits. Her mana was nearly exhausted and Tara was now a glowing figure of incandescence, evidence per her own description of her powers that she was nearing her critical limit too.

As if sensing her condition was being judged, Tara doused her power, reforming her face among the flames rising from her dress, before she stomped the ground and summoned another wave of elementals. Master, you’re getting this, right? We need our out… and if we need to start stepping instead of waiting for you to pinch us out, it’d be easier now than when another hundred assholes show up! Tara looked back to Rosa to see if she was alright… except she, and Golgon, were gone.

Hurk leapt back down into the alleyway, his body covered in purple bruises and cuts that oozed droplets of blood down his body. He continued to smile, but perhaps only because Cidi was cradled in his hands, still unharmed save for the exhaustion of her rune usage.

If she wanted to complain about being handled by the giant, the situation was too dire to bother. Instead, she glanced around the empty alleyway. “G-Golgon?! Where did Golgon go-?!”

A tunnel opened up beneath the massive Dorsin and his prize as Tara watched them; another second passed, and the portal closed.

<Tara, you can still fight, right? Just keep them busy enough to not bother us here.>

Tara sighed with relief before looking up as Lawmen charged past their elemental-plagued brothers in the sky to reach her. Her features became fire once again as she smiled up at them. “Oh yeah… been too long since I got to stretch my wings anyways,” Tara whispered, chuckling at her own pun.

Tara casts Wings of Icarus.

The joke was lost on the Lawmen; all they saw were huge blankets of red **** suddenly springing forth from behind Tara, each one unfurling out and then forward within the cramped space of the alleyway’s mouth. With a simple pivot, the wings launched Tara skyward in a display of hellfire and magic never permitted on Earth and seldom justified in her work; the path of her flight was air ignited into rivulets of liquid-like fire, giving the illusion of burning streamers that followed the Hellbat’s flight. Like foolhardy Icarus, she too was flying rather close to the zenith of her capacity… but for now, she enjoyed her dazzling flight away and around the knots of Lawmen, doused herself once more… and checked to ensure the Lawmen pursued.

Sure enough, her flight had almost taken her out of the government block… and behind her, the Lawmen followed in a narrow stream after her, their formation collapsing like a drag net as they followed the shortest routes to pursue an enemy that seemed to be retreating. Idiots.

Tara paused her flight to hover and, as the first Lawmen neared, exhaled.

Her wings glowed bright as she spun back towards the row of enemies, her “wings” spinning around her in wide, sweeping spans as she remained still between them. This propeller of hellfire spun right into and among the Lawmen, shocking and surprising them as she rushed by too quickly to be struck or tracked, but not so fast that each had not tasted a strike from her terrible new form. The weakest Hammers died from the sudden **** while the majority of them, although alive, were now on fire and screaming inside their armor. Dozens of Lawmen created the sparkling trail of Tara’s descent until, as the spell reached its natural end, the wings finally exploded in a massive plume of crimson ****.

Burnt limbs and bits of plate rained down on the roofs below, and Tara, bereft of wings, crashed through one such roof. Her fiery body pulsed and groaned in complaint as she rolled through the debris of her landing on the second floor of an interrogation facility; her body ignited the simple cloths she ended up rolling into, but she hardly paid them mind as the flames harmlessly (for her) spread. Now… would be a good time… Tara struggled to declare as her body strained to keep from exploding.

Without another word, John dismissed her back to the temple.

The explosion above was worrying enough to John without also hearing reports of how **** the fight was becoming for his allies. He worked as he took in those reports, casting spells while using combinations of brute strength and small doses of ruin to break off every zeetok lock the basement had. Woofroot, with his happy barks and brand-guaranteed ability to understand Botuk’s orders, worked with his many prehensile vines to carefully grab and carry off every valuable box, bag, and bare item honestly pointed out by the unwilling Warden. Botuk was **** to keep her nerve around the alien creature as they worked; his vines, meanwhile, meant that he barely had to do anything other than pleasantly trot near Botuk’s feet while he grabbed a box out of a room and carried it through the large tunnel John maintained leading into the Bitter Nines headquarters.

On the other side, the Order Knights and Confessors worked quickly to sort and carry off the loot; Yui, still unsure of how to feel about the entire affair, just watched and made mental notes with rapt attention. Golgon, Hurk, and Cidi all watched as they caught their breaths or let the Hospitalers mend their wounds. Kitok the Noisy was nowhere to be heard; she had fled on foot and, Golgon and the rest assumed, was stuck skulking back by herself. Tara’s message to John let him pause just enough to quickcast her back into the Temple. She sounded like she pushed it pretty close to the limit…

Botuk continued to aid in silence until she caught sight of the most infamous leaders of the Bitter Nines. She raised her hands as if to attack-

“Stop.” John had only barely noticed the interaction; so many hours of interacting with summons had left him sloppy with his orders. What if she had gotten to attack?! The cost, the damages, the lives…! John’s anger flared as he continued, “No minion of mine may attack anyone who I would not consider my enemy.” Though he was not there to witness it, the Temple shimmered as his new Commandment took root.

“Terrorist scum! Wretched plague upon-“

“Do not speak except to fulfill my commands to you,” John sighed, silencing the Warden until tears welled in her eyes at this indignity. Golgon had too much dignity himself to taunt the wretch through the tunnel… but Cidi didn’t, and so she waved with a big smile at the captured enemy of their cause.

<Master, we may have a problem,> Fairy suddenly reported, <new baddies all dressed in black and carrying serious hardware.>

John blinked before planting tunnels over his eyes, each surveying large swaths of the field. He found the newcomers easily enough: thirty strong and spotted thanks to the glowing blue blades atop their halberds and their uniform, silver armor. The screaming, warped faces etched into their helms marked them as Lawman Shapers, and their range of levels and strength scores were just as threatening as they were on John’s first meeting with them.

Perfect.

<They’re weak then?> Fairy said with some hope.

Oh no, they’re actually pretty strong. Tita, join the others and continue your fight. Everyone still on the field, besides Zalla: focus on killing those silver-armored warriors.

<You’re going to leave us with the heavy lifting?!>

John eyed the end of the hallway. There, Juniluny, still not given more than a bare robe for decency, shivered and cursed as she analyzed the vault. Funny choice of words. Just do what you can. John blinked over to the Halfling as he peeked over her shoulder at the seam between the rock and the vault’s open threshold. The inside was, as promised by the Warden, empty. “Well?”

“If you wanted to know what the stone says, you should’ve captured a dwarf,” Juniluny shot back without looking.

“Can you do it?”

“I don’t have my shadow soul anymore, you breed-happy bastard! How do you expect me to do this?!”

“You were a Cabal mage,” John patiently hissed as he glanced between her and the staircase landing, “and know spells I still don’t have explanations for, so you must have something you can do.”

“I’m not a gods-damned giant or a construction worker, you tit! I used soul magic, so either pony up to the soul gems or put me back in the hole. Besides, why don’t you just use that ruinous power I’ve seen you slap around and break it apart if you want it so?!”

“Because I can’t spend my mana in case certain things don’t go as…” John’s hesitant glances locked onto the staircase as black boots could be seen descending them. “… planned.”

Daedro had indeed come down to meet him, as Zalla had predicted… only not in the state John expected him.

Daedro the Faultless
<The Lawmen of Vantage>
Level 30 Cryomancer
HP: 2,346/5,400
MP: 3,453/1,010
Stats: Str 80 (120), Agi 40 (80), End 70, Int 30, Wis 20, Cha 18, Lib 7
Status Effects: Galgan Barrier (3,957HP), Galgan Mana Battery, Galgan Nerve Network, Galgan Vision, Lawmen Network (Access: Purifier)
Qualities: Galgan Bone Fortification, Galgan Skin, Galgan Tech Conditioning
The Dorani son of Galgan, a Third Disk industrialist, this Purifier grew up as all his brothers and sisters did: as experimental material for the magical technology his mother developed. Though he was the only survivor of these trials, Daedro nonetheless grew up thankful for his mother’s gifts: they enabled him, a fanatic in service of the Peak, to easily crush the state’s enemies and enforce the law. Daedro ascended to the Second Disk for his volunteer work in patrolling the Plate and exterminating several notable gangs. A ruthless cryomancer, wrestler, and worshipper of Humans, Daedro more than proved his worth for the rank of Purifier. He allegedly turned down a promotion to Lawman Champion, a comfortable detective position near the Peak, for fear that the Plate would become lawless without his presence.

The missing chunks of health and shielding were proven best perhaps by the horrific condition of the man’s head: it was already red and pock-marked with metal or glowing bits of magic underneath the flesh, and his false, silver eyes still gleamed as John remembered them, but someone had taken a hatchet to everything beneath the tip of this creature’s nose and left translucently-thin flesh in their wake. Less noticeable were his hands: the fully-gauntleted fingers had been blown apart somehow, and now skeletal digits of silver gripped his weapon in substitute. The damage made John’s mind race: he had left no one to fight the Purifier in the First Station above. He had reportedly gone straight to the First Station. No one reported engaging him. Did he arrive to the scene wounded? That seemed wholly improbable.

“W… Warden?” Daedro blinked in confusion at the Warden who, from the mouth of one of the rooms, could not pause giving direction to the small, alien creature with extended tentacles.

“Take the white boxes first,” she almost choked in shame as her **** betrayal had been laid bare for none other than the Purifier himself.

Daedro slowly flicked his eyes between John and the Warden. Yeah, not even going to give you a minute to think about it, buddy. John opened a yawning tunnel behind the Purifier as he cleared the steps.

The sudden roar of wind from the altitude had surprised him enough to turn and face… clouds. The morning sun rising high above the horizon of Violet. This was… the eastern Plate perimeter? How was such a thing-?

“And part two,” John whispered as he opened another tunnel… one in the close gap between the ends of a certain looping, terminal velocity-reaching slab of stone. Daedro did not get to turn around and notice it before it had already come flying at his back.

The examination slab deals 1,152 damage to Daedro.

The damage number itself was never going to be impressive; John recalled what the dark elf being killed by a similar effect had ultimately produced, and this was just a stronger version of that. But what did matter was the push: the stone slab, along with shattering on the shields of the wings on Daedro’s back, put all its **** thereupon and shoved Daedro cleanly through the portal… and, with that portal sitting right at the edge of the Plate’s field, cleanly through the Peak’s forcefield meant to keep intruders, and Violet, out.

Daedro tried flying back in a panic, but smashed up against the perimeter of the Peak’s authority. His silver eyes went wide as he began to realize what had come to pass, what danger he was in: even if the Violet was not in heavy clouds at this altitude, the danger remained there of all the loose Violet in the air. His armor detected the poison and rushed, in components, the screaming helm of the Shapers over his head… but that thin flesh of his throat, and the skin around his eyes, had already begun to darken as he choked. With armored fingers clawing at the rim of his helm, Daedro’s shrieking, twisting form jetted upwards towards the Peak, the only place where he might re-enter Vantage… if he survived.

John watched all this with an almost surprised nod.