After weeks of travel and false leads, they’d finally made it to their destination. The compass that they found in the mountain up north in Dragon’s Cradle was fickle, and it had taken a few hours of deciphering the coded riddles left inside, but by putting their heads together, Cyran, Vi’ira, and Socket managed to figure out what the clues pointed to- the compass pointed in the direction that the Sol Stone was housed in. While Cyran was still not especially interested in finding the Sol Stone, his companions were enthralled by the knowledge and history the treasure might hold, so he tagged along like a shadow as they made their way to Frost Gale, and eventually…

The Arid Mesa.

It was safe to say that Cyran had never visited the remote island, and he’d never had much reason to until now. But somehow, it made sense to him that an elusive artifact of the gods would be hidden in a location that was difficult to reach. But somehow, they’d managed to make it.

The air was dry as Cyran turned to Vi’ira and Socket, wiping a bead of sweat off his brow. Vi’ira was the one in charge of the compass, understanding better than any of them how to navigate with it. “We should be getting close to the end of the road.” He muttered, attempting to keep the fatigue out of his voice. While he was used to travel, Vi’ira and Socket moved with an energy and speed that he couldn’t hope to match. I’m getting far too old for adventuring…

It was not the first time he thought that, and it would not be the last.

They’d left behind any semblance of civilization a while ago- according to locals they’d asked back at the Docking Coast, there was an abandoned temple up this way that might house what they were looking for. Out of lack of better options, that seemed as good a place to start as any. The locals had also expressed that no one had visited the temple in centuries.

Cyran honestly didn’t expect much trouble from a long-dead ancient temple, but if their escapades in the mountain had taught him anything, it was to be prepared for any eventuality. The closer they got, the more he rested a hand protectively on his dagger, expecting danger around every corner. It may have seemed paranoid, but as they crested a hill and could just make out the partially-crumpled clay and stone walls in the distance, he decided that a little paranoia wasn’t a bad thing.

You never knew what old ghosts might be lurking in the old sanctum of the gods.

He stopped before they got close, shooting another glance at the other adventurers. His eyebrows were knit together in worry- worry about what, specifically, he would only be sure about when they got there.

“Is everyone ready?”

Vi’ira rubbed her cracked lips together, cursing at the unbearably dry air surrounding them. She had fashioned her coat so it was hanging on the back of her belt and off her body. The heat was not awful, but combined with miles of walking and any ounce of sun rays, it began to reach an uncomfortable level. Her loose white blouse clung to the sweat along her skin, and she placed blame on herself for not wearing more climate-appropriate clothing.

Vi’ira was no stranger to the Arid Mesa, for she had been here plenty of times accompanying her father and his crew for trades and stowing away valuable materials. She found the uninhabited island quite peaceful, enthralled by the idea of a land untouched by civilization. If you let Charon have its own corner of the world, what will she create? She had only ever gone as far as the borders of the Docking City, and now that they were miles out, she wondered whether the adventurers would find themselves welcomed or shunned by the unforgiving rocky plains.

Whatever it was, she knew they were ready for it.

She studied the compass in her hand, rarely looking to see where she was going. She trusted her instincts, and knew her feet would lead her to where she wanted to go. The compass needle was frantic in the way it shifted and pointed, but it always seemed to find its way back to pointing southeast. They were getting closer. As if Cyran was reading her mind, he spoke at that moment reassuring that the journey was almost over.

But the adventure was just about to begin.

As they trudged up a hill, an old clay temple slowly came into view through the thin dusty film that seemed to coat the air in the Mesa. Cyran turned to both her and Socket.

“Is everyone ready?”

“Far more ready for a pint, but I s’pose this’ll do just fine,” she teased, skipping ahead of the other two as they still stood behind. No matter how uncomfortable she may be in this weather, her humor, nor impulsiveness, ever seemed to find an appropriate stopping point. If there was going to be any sort of altercation, she’d much rather get it over with sooner than later. As she continued to look at the compass, she reached down to her belt and unclicked her silver flask. She tossed it back and finished off what was left, which to her disappointment, was not a lot.

“Onwards, adventurers! We’ve a sun to find.”

Socket steadied themselves, looking to the sky to see the splendor of Yukina's white feathery form soaring through the sky. They reached into the hood of their cloak, petting Shion in the warm pocket between the folds of fabric. Their body thrummed with a crackling energy, and they seemed to carry themselves with renewed grace. The weeks between had been spent training along the way, and the resulting payoff was evident by the construct's fluid motions, and the zig-zagging arcs of electricity that danced along their joints and features. A small pouch was tied to the inside of the traveling cloak about waist height, which rattled slightly when Socket would dash ahead to scout.



Sure enough, the temple was right where it should be, the great circles of the Snow Owl overhead told them it was occupied by others already and would need close up intervening. Waving from the cover of a shrub, they indicated that the Snow Owl should find cover and keep watch. As she veered away, Socket swiftly returned to the others to find them closer to the ruin than expected. The road was indeed coming to an end, and ahead lay the next step on this journey.



The automaton took a moment to appreciate the pair of companions they were with, grateful for their help. Those they'd met along the way made it all worth the effort.

"Is everyone ready?"

“Far more ready for a pint, but I s’pose this’ll do just fine,”
“Onwards, adventurers! We’ve a sun to find.”


"Yukina indicated there are already people ahead, before I sent her to keep watch and sound an alarm, so if you hear the long cry of a Snow Owl, it means reinforcements are coming. I'm ready to go, pity be to the poor souls in the way."

Socket said, even their voice held an electric quality to it now, Avasha's magic coursing through their circuits and servos. Stirring on their shoulder, Shion popped her head up slightly, her pearlescent carapace glinting a rainbow of hues. In a soft, hissing voice she spoke and could vanish into thin air for short periods while hunting for breakfast or sneaking about. 

"Too cold for Shion, stay warm. Nest time." Socket gently pet her front legs, then she retreated into the warmth of the cloak and her web spun pocket. The group seemed to be eager, and weeks of search, of preparation had given the automaton a good deal of motivation as well. Onward they pressed, ready for what was to come. 

   The journey had been a rather uneventful one, taking passage by ship from the docks of Eclipse City to those in Sol City, and then finally to the Arid Mesa. Úlfr hadn't particularly liked the swathes of people in the Capitol, but thankfully not very many had been trying to go where he was headed. After deciphering clues and riddles from pieces of parchment he and Kamille had collected, Úlfr couldn't leave well enough alone, and after discussing matters with his adoptive father, the elf had encouraged him to follow through with what they had learned. Their discoveries left Úlfr worrying just what the cult might get up to, and after hearing about the multiple attacks they had been involved in, the werewolf felt no good could come of them achieving any of their goals, whatever they may be. By the time he had made up his mind Kamille had already left for some other reason, and so Úlfr had set out on his own.

   While he didn't have anything against sailing the werewolf was thankful when he arrived at the large island, glad to be on solid ground once more. Perusing the various market stalls at the docks had been a great way to both stretch his legs and shop for supplies necessary for an excursion into an environment like the Arid Mesa's. After buying robes that nearly matched the color of the ground here to cover himself with, Úlfr rested at an inn for the next day and a half, consulting his notes on the cultist's document and cross referencing them with a map of the area he had purchased as well. He had no intention of getting lost in the middle of a desert.

   Nearly three days after arriving at the docks, Úlfr sat crouched and hidden behind rocks jutting haphazardly out the ground, surveying the entrance to what he could only assume was the temple he was searching for. Cultists stood outside of the entrance, as well as some devilish or demonic looking entities; he wasn't sure which, he had never encountered anything like them before. As he observed them, Úlfr noticed a trio of adventurers approaching the temple as well, but the cultists hadn't noticed them yet. Úlfr was assuming again, but as none of the three newcomers were dressed like the cultists he felt safe in betting on them not being allied with the cultists.

   Slinking off to the right, Úlfr stealthily made his way around to the cultists flank, ever thankful that he'd had the foresight to buy the robes he was wearing. Not only were they fantastic camouflage, but they helped tremendously with the heat. He waited for a moment while hidden near the cultist closest to the right corner of the temple to see how they would react to the other three people approaching the temple. If they appeared hostile, Úlfr would slip out of cover to quietly and quickly snap the cultists' neck, and then attempting to repeat this process as much as possible. If they proved to be allies of the cultists he'd have to be more patient and try to find another way in without being seen.

Cyran grimaced as socket mentioned her scout had spotted people up ahead. “Enemies?” He asked, though he had a feeling he already knew the answer. This far inland, there was only one reason that people would be venturing through the Arid Mesa, and between friend and foe, there was very little chance of them being friend.

Pity be to the poor souls indeed.

Cyran put a hand on Vi’ira’s shoulder, a small comfort. “We’ll get you that pint after we investigate this temple.” He hoped it would not take too long, but given that the cultists had beaten them to the punch, Cyran sensed a long fight looming in the distance.

He suppressed a smile as the small spider, Shion, poked its head out before disappearing once more.

They were getting close to the temple now. Cyran could make out the sides of its cracked walls, aged by the sun and the dry air- and soon enough, he could spot the figures lurking around the front door, guarding the area as if they already expected someone to try and lay claim to this land. Cultists. But how in the world had they known to expect company? Cyran’s eyes narrowed as he retrieved Spell Sicer and Cold Steel from his belt, twirling them around in his hands.

“I’ll scout ahead and protect you from the shadows.” He promised. His skills did not lend to outright battle, but he could lurk behind and support Vi’ira and Socket, both natural front-line brawlers in their own right, from behind. He stepped into the shadows cast by the rocky outcroppings to their right, melding into the darkness completely, until he was no longer visible at all.^[1] Once hidden, he had free reign to scope out the area and take stock of the situation.

He could see five in total surrounding the door- three humanoid men dressed in robes, and two devils. The humans were all sporting various weapons- one holding a sword, another a lance, and the final, an ax- he doubted that was the extent of their abilities, though.

Five to three… and he doubted the cultists on the outside were the extent of their numbers. They would have to be careful how they went about this, though he doubted Vi’ira and Socket would approach with caution. They tended to have a much more direct approach to things, and Cyran would wait to intervene until they made the first move. Until then, he would hide in his protective cloak of shadows, and ready his daggers to jump into the fight when necessary.

---

1. Dark Form

Vi’ira nodded to Cyran as he discussed his plan to scout ahead and watch over the group from the shadows. A part of her wished to tag along, an old comfort of hers only found in the depth of the shadows where only silence lurked. But, she knew now was no time for her to stay behind. Battle is what she was trained in, and if things escalated quickly, she would rather it be her on the frontend of the attacks over her fellow adventurers. She had no worries about Socket, still fascinated by how they worked. An amalgamation of cogs and gears, formed into a hearty, intense mechanical being. Quite the pair in combat, and an excellent partner to fight alongside. Hell, they can’t bleed, so as long as their wires are not shredded and their outer shell isn’t blown to bits, they’ll keep fighting.

Cyran broke off from the group and Vi’ira whispered a quiet prayer as he parted. The temple was still a fair bit ahead of them, and Vi’ira motioned for Socket to join her as she crouched behind a rock.

“It’s best we try to attack from multiple angles, similar to the goblins. These lads are much bigger, and we got ta take ‘em out as quickly as possible.” She peeked her head over the rock, and observed the group of five cultists standing in front of the old temple. All clad in robes, they seemed to loom in front of the temple, on guard for any sudden attacks or attempts at infiltrating the grounds. There isn’t anything for miles around them, and these foes were the first sign of life in hours. They were surely bound to jump at the opportunity for some action, and one misstep could send the cultists into a rage. As a religious individual herself, she knew the extent that people would go to to defend their deity or any important artifact tied to them for that matter. From the looks of it, the goblins were just a warm up.

“I’ve an idea, just wait for my signal.”

Vi’ira took cover behind a gathering of rocks as she moved in a circle to try and get herself behind the temple, her focus heightened and excitement building up. In the face of danger, it was only natural, and smart, for people to turn and run in the opposite direction. For Vi’ira Fenpeiros, danger was an invitation, and the battle was the ball.

And it was time for the clock to strike midnight.

She was lucky that the back of the temple was much less guarded than the front and she pressed herself up against a rock formation, spectating the cultists from behind. However, that luck was sure to run out soon enough. Vi’ira inhaled as she focused on every part of her: the rising and falling of her chest as she breathed, the fidgeting of her hands as they itched for the hilt of her sword, the sweat still thick of her skin, the magic coursing through her veins. Soon enough, it felt as though an unseen weight was lifted from her, and a spectral shadow of her own self began to move forward in front of her, taking steady steps across the mixture of sand and dirt, yet no footprints were left behind¹. It was an exact carbon copy of Vi’ira physical appearance, but it contained no part of her aside from looks. This rouse, though a good one, would only fool the cultists for so long. While she watched the mimic of herself, she felt electricity surge through her as a thin shield of lightning covered her entire body like armor². The surge continued to her hands as wind blades began to take form in her palms, wind rapidly circulating around her rapier in her left hands and forming an entirely new blade in her right³. The projection of her carried onwards, quickly drawing the attention of the largest of the humanoid men.

“Oi! Trespasser, stop where you are.”

The shadow made no changes in its pace or stance, continuing on with its journey forward. Her face was blank, no life behind the eyes. The large man gripped onto his axe, readying it as she got closer.

“Now now, little girl, don’t do something you’ll regret.”

With that, the axe was swung over the mans shoulder and directly through Vi’ira’s shadow. He let out a puzzled grunt as the axe collided with the ground, the other cultists exchanging confused looks. The projection passed through him, and Vi’ira smirked as the timing fell right into place. As it emerged behind the cultist, and before he had time to react completely to the fake out, Vi’ira closed her eyes and instantly replaced the mimic where it stood. She gathered up her strength, and swung her wind-covered rapier right into the back grooves of the cultists knees, damaging him more than the sole wind blade would. He let out a harsh yell and stumbled forward, collapsing to the ground as blood poured out of the wounds He wasn’t finished yet, but this was certainly bound to hinder him for the fight. She smiled to herself as her plan worked, until she realized that she was now standing alone at the center of five very pissed off cultists. She backed up a few steps, twisting her swords in her hands.

---

1. Spectral Shadow
2. Lightning Armor
3. Summon Wind Blades

Watching the pair with a bit of adoration, Socket made ready as Vi'ira distracted the guards. Not one for waiting around, they blinked into the battlefield a moment later, Bullet Dash carrying them behind the group. As the automaton arrived, they wasted no time in tossing up a line of crackling rods as a barrier between the cultists and their devil consorts. With the odds evened up, the construct rolled through a volley of Dark magics and unleashed their Art of the Whirling Wave. The blow the Devil thought to be short, a feint, instead turned into the heavy thrusting strike of a staff made from water. 

"That was a fancy bit of trickery Vi'ira, remind me not to get on your bad side in the future..." They quipped, intent on mocking the group with the flippant and carefree attitude. The remaining Devil leaped forward, a big and brutish beast that carried a Greatsword which it swung recklessly. The staff in Socket's hands seemed alive with the precision of it's defenses, turning the mighty blade aside as they danced around the pair. To and fro, they worked around the two hellish creatures, keeping the larger brute in the path of the smaller caster, making their aim difficult. Each time they deflected a wide swing from the Devil in front, it would swing 'round and make the one behind have to evade or face it's bite. 

"Poor things, I'd hoped they might put up a measure of a fight... but alas, it seems that separated from their masters, they are useless puppets to be toyed with..." Socket remarked, the constant clanging of the sword's blows being turned, and the popping hiss of the other Devil's magics splashing against the temple's landscape couldn't drown out the flat, bored tone they used. Another quick dodge, striding around until the pair of devils was caught between themselves, and the sparking Lure they'd placed earlier. They activated the second part of the spell, the field of static disappeared, replaced by a flash of lightning as five powerful bolts tore through the devils and grounded themselves at the construct's feet. The caster dropped, fried to bits after being dealt a heavy blow earlier. 

"DDDIIIIIEEEE!!" Raged the second devil, it's flesh charred and cooking as it stood rigid. It was electrified from the effect, and it's movements were strained and jittery. It swung once more, a large overhand chop it expected to be blocked overhead. Socket stepped into the blow, not catching the blade with their staff but letting it pass through the mass instead. They twisted along it's grisly length as the heft of the blade carried the befuddled creature off balance. The creature was durable, already it was trying to dig it's weapon out of the ground and swing again. 

They'd gotten one Devil in the opening rush, and dealt a myriad of damage to the second. Steadying their form, the staff sang through the air in Socket's hands as they uttered the spell Static Field, adding a layer of defense against the cultists' magic and weapons now that the barrier was down. Vi'ira wouldn't be left alone to the cultists as long as they were functional, and the automaton acted as a pincer to the Devil, arguably the main source of worry to most adventurers. The deep cuts it left in the ancient temple's hefty blocks would give fright to most, for they could cleave through a person or beast without fail.

    He watched intently as the trio began to act out some form of plan, the male elf sinking into shadows and eliciting a surprised expression from Úlfr. That particular ability seemed very similar to one he himself possessed, an ability that was relatively new to the werewolf; Úlfr had no idea where the power had come from, only that he had awoke one day to find that he had it. Though, if he thought about it long enough, he had a hunch, but now was not the time to ponder such a thing. The female elf snuck around to the side of the temple, then blatantly stepped out and approached the cultists. Úlfr wondered why on Charon would she give up such an advantage just like that.

    The answer became clear when the cultist's attack simply went through without any resistance and apparently no damage whatsoever to her, only for the elf to then turn and strike the cultist through the back of the back with their rapier. As the cultist fell to one knee from the attack, the third member of the trio somersaulted through the air and deployed some form of magical barrier as they harried the two devilish creatures, ultimately frying one to a crisp. Úlfr had already moved behind the lance wielding cultist as the third member finished the first part of their assault, twisting and snapping his neck without being noticed as he then hefted the man as quietly as he could in an attempt to return to his hiding place with the body.

    Bellowing in rage, the devil still standing reached down into a pouch they were wearing on their hip and pulled out a rather odd looking fruit that seemed to pulsate with bright blue and green lines. It reeked of blood and as the devil took a large bite out of it, Úlfr realized it was actually a heart of some sort, though to what it belonged to he hadn't the faintest clue. The devil shoved the second half into its mouth and swallowed, blood dripping heavily from the corners of its toothy maw, chuckling with evil glee as it starred the third adventurer down. Suddenly, the devil began to grow in size and its burned flesh began to heal. "The heart of a hydra has its uses, no?" he spat as he now stood about 125% of his normal size.

    Renewed in vigor, the devil curled his fingers as he raised his left palm up towards the sky but not any further than chest high for him. Red lightning began to arc from his hand to the ground, and the earth began to rise and attach itself to him, forming a sort of armor for the devil, with tendrils of the "armor" still touching the ground. Laughing anew, he raised his foot and stomped on the ground hard, causing a large and jagged spike of earth to shoot up out of the ground behind the third adventurer.

    As this was happening, the cultist the female elf had stabbed dropped his ax and clapped his hands together while muttering arcane words. Suddenly his skin began to glow red-hot and the very air around the man seemed to distort from a large amount of heat. He too pulled something out of the pouch on his hip, a small vial filled with red liquid looking suspiciously like a potion of healing. Popping the cork and downing the contents of the vial, the cultist grasped his ax and stood, experimenting with putting weight on the leg the female elf had stabbed, grinning as he realized he could once more put his full weight on the appendage.

    The remaining cultist, the one with the sword, raised his off-hand to the sky as he began to chant in the arcane language of spellcasting, dark energy crackling about him as it emanated from his outstretched hand. His shadow grew large and raised up from the ground to take on the form of a large shadowy-black bat creature, circling him once before turning its attention to the third adventurer and firing a Chaos Bolt from its maw at them. Sword in hand, the cultist took a moment to catch his breath from casting such a high level spell before rushing forward to engage the female elf.

    Seeing all of this unfold, Úlfr was really glad he had managed a sneak kill.

SPOILER: Click to show

Devil used mold earth to "create armor" and ground the "armor" in an attempt to nullify Socket's lightning magic. Hydra Heart effects mimic the Giant Size spell, but I didn't want him to be super big, just a little bit bigger, healed up and ready to swing even harder. He also cast Crystalline Shard behind Socket, trying to hit them from behind.

The Ax Cultist used Heat Cloak spell and drank a potion of healing.

The Sword Cultist cast Summon: Dark Elemental. The Elemental tried to hit Socket with its Choas Bolt attack. The cultist then began to charge Vi'ira.

Cyran hung back while Vi’ira and Socket launched the first assault- they looked like they had things handled, until the scales began tipping in the cultists’ favor. Cyran’s eyes widened as one of the devils took a bite out of a fruit that looked like a heart before its form began to shift and grow, shrugging off the injuries that Socket had inflicted like they were nothing. The second cultist seemed to cast some sort of spell that made the very air simmer around him, while the third called forth a creature of darkness. Socket and Vi’ira were soon outnumbered, which meant Cyran would have to step in.

As he raised his daggers, Cyran noticed something strange out of the corner of his eye. In the commotion of battle he hadn’t noticed the stillness of one particular member of the group, whose death had gone by unnoticed by his companions. Had Socket or Vi’ira killed him? Cyran couldn’t recall if he’d seen either of them snap his neck, but such tactics didn’t suit either of his adventuring companions. Which meant that there was someone else lurking around the temple, someone who held no love for these cultists, either.

But were they friend, or foe? Cyran had no way of knowing what their intentions were. For now, he could only assume they were on the same side. He didn’t have time to dwell on their motivations for the time being, though, not when Vi’ira and Socket needed his help. He darted forward, still cloaked in the darkness that lingered around him, which only melted away as he dug Spell Slicer into the back of the sword-wielding cultist who’d summoned the dark elemental and tried to attack Vi’ira.^[1,2] He shrieked as he fell forwards, bleeding profusely from the stab wound right in his lung.

“What the- there was another one lurking about!”

“Catch the rat!” The ax-wielding cultist shouted, raising his weapon as he got close to Cyran. Cyran ducked out of the way of a blow from his weapon, but the heat from his spell burned, singing his skin and filling his lungs with smoke. Cyran coughed, instinctively curling his fist, where delicate crystals of ice had already begun to form up his forearm, and slammed it into the cultist’s face.^[3] The ice immediately splintered, but the attack gave Cyran enough time to duck away from the cultist, backing into another nearby shadow and disappearing entirely.^[4]

Once he was out of the danger, Cyran clutched at his fist, which still burnt despite the soothing cold acting as a balm. He coughed again, desperately attempting to catch his breath even for just a second before jumping back into the battle.

---

1. Back Stab
2. Magic Blocking enchantment (prevents cultist from casting any more spells)
3. Ice Fist
4. Pass Without a Trace

Vi'ira and Socket were quick, but unfortunately, the devils were much, much quicker.

The devils collectively cast an abundance of spells, one enhancing its height tremendously, while the another summoned a dark elemental from nothing and added yet another enemy to the battle. Before Vi'ira could make a second attack on the axe-wielding cultist, an eruption of heat propelled around him. The waves of hot air slapped Vi'ira in the face, stinging her skin with a fiery intensity. Her entire body was in pain, but her chest hurt most of all. She could feel her lungs fighting against whatever had stolen her breath, and her air intake was rapidly depleting. In her attempt to back away from the burning heat, Vi'ira had not even noticed the cultist swinging a large sword charging at her. His onslaught was quickly interrupted by Cyran's shadowy movements, and a dagger pierced his back. He collapsed to the ground, and a wave of relief washed over Vi'ira. Not only that, but a new confidence surged through her body as she reminded herself of her companions that fought alongside her. She couldn't let anything happen to them, and she was here to aid them as much as they were here to aid her. She can't stop fighting until every threat is dead.

Her lungs were still screaming in pain even though she was finally far enough away to breathe and her focus was more hindered than ever. As Cyran struck the cultist with a icy fist, Vi'ira's mind raced with how to combat the fire. With one quick look, she glanced at the clear sky above her and it clicked. As hard as it was to focus, she attempted to hone in on the arcane magic in her veins once more. She muttered an incantation, and just like that, rain began to fall from the sky¹. The wind picked up around them and the rain fell not too heavily, but enough to allow the adventurers to still see. The rain soothed her skin temporarily. The singing was still intense, but the chilly water assisted in dialing the pain back. Vi'ira tightened her grip on her wind blades and propelled herself forward. She jumped into the air, and instead of landing on the ground, she seemed to land on an invisible platform and appeared to hover in the air². She skipped across the wind, once again in range of the burning heat. Her skin began to blister, forming burns on her face and her arms. She grunted in pain, clenching her teeth, but she made no effort to change her direction of force.

The devil was still grounded, blood pooling around his backside as he knelt, when she brought down both blades simultaneously and they collided with the devil's neck. The blades connected with his neck tissues and it disconnected from his shoulders. He let out a deep yelp before the sound came to an abrupt stop and his head rolled in front of Vi'ira's feet. The wave of heat instantly disintegrated and Vi'ira found herself coughing heavily. In the moments before her attack, she had not taken a breath, and the rainy air felt cold on her throat. 

For a moment, Vi'ira wanted to go off and find Cyran, for he had run off after striking one of the cultists, but she knew she was needed in the fight. Her newest target was the largest of the cultists, who towered above the adventurers with red energy crackling all around him. The cultists seemed to be targeting Socket with multiple attacks, and no matter how strong Socket was, the sheer size of the devil with the help of the dark elemental was bound to overpower them. 

One down, two more to go.

However, as she moved towards Socket, she felt herself growing weaker. Her lungs still burned and the newly formed blisters radiated pain throughout her entire body as they throbbed. She had used a great amount of energy to take out the axe-wielding devil. She needed to build back up her stamina somehow, but with no healing spells or concocted potions, this would prove to be difficult. Vi'ira eyed the stones nearby, large enough to shield her from view of the cultists, but something in her told her she couldn't. There was no time to stop fighting, so she kept on trucking towards Socket. 

---

1. Inclement Weather
2. Steps of Wind

A bolt of dark, chaotic energies sailed past Socket as they narrowly avoided a heavy overhand swing from the now enlarged Devil. Hydra's heart... an interesting effect, but it just made the creature a larger target. The summoned creature concerned the construct, but cultists had dropped steadily so far. Taking a quick glance of the battlefield, only the Devil and Elemental still were standing. 

"Pitiful creature, such desperation and defiled depravity are all you know, aren't they?" They taunted at the Devil, advancing into their reach again. The watery staff in their hands sang sweet melodies of battle, parrying the oversized blade of the Devil while gracefully dodging more Chaos Bolts from the elemental. Good, let it all focus on them, then the party would make quick and careful work of their numbers. Cat's Grace was working overtime today, and the automaton was glad they'd endured the rigorous and often deadly training of avoiding blows and damage.

A feint from the devil in the form of a wide side sweep into an overhead chop nearly caught Socket, who'd ducked the first blow. Thankfully, their reaction time was faster than the now enlarged monster could muster with it's bulk. Swiftly and decisively, they brought the staff up with their body, it's form changing at the last instant into a sharp, thin spear that drove it's way through the base of the devil's neck as it reared with the hulking blade. Choking it's surprise, the wide eyed beast made a gurgled cry before dropping with a resounding thud, it's sword clanging like a dropped pot as it slipped from it's fingers.

They needed to help Vi'ira, who looked as though she'd gotten caught in some kind of attack. The Chaos Elemental tossed bolts towards the construct, backpedaling to try and keep it's distance. Socket hopped over the latest volley, muttering an arcane word that surrounded the summon with Lightning Lure's shocking pillars. It still shot it's bolts, which splashed against the stones and grass, sizzling strange holes in what they touched. 

The cultists lay broken, the devils defeated soundly, although not without a hiccup or two... now to clean up their mess, and see what they're hiding inside Socket thought to themselves. Spear in hand, they strode forward, deflecting and dodging it's furious attacks as it squirmed inside the cage of electricity. Keeping it's attention, it was all the construct could do to keep from getting hit by it's constant assault, but they were holding their own for the moment...

     Úlfr watched as the adventurers made short work of the remaining cultists, taking them down in impressive displays of skill and magic. The female elf seemingly called down rain, and while it was helpful against the ax wielding cultist, Úlfr feared it would attract the attention of those inside the temple. For now it seemed they were none-the-wiser, but rain in such an arid and dry place would surely draw attention. 

     The rainclouds above cast a large shadow across the barren field they were all fighting in, and unfortunately it seemed to be just what the shadow elemental needed to escape from the third adventurer's magical electric trap they had cast to pin the creature down. With a twirl inside the cage, the creature dissapated into a black smoke-like cloud before reappearing on the side of the adventurers opposite the temple. It didn't stay there very long, however, as it launched another black bolt at the third adventurer only to dissapate once more and reappear somewhere else in the vicinity. Repeatedly it did so, harrying the group with bolts of darkness each time it appeared and vanishing right after. Úlfr caught on pretty quick that the creature was teleporting within the shadow of the raincloud above them, but what was even more stunning to the werewolf was that he could sense where the creature was even as it wasn't visible to the naked eye. He still couldn't see it, but he knew where it was.

     He watched carefully from his own spot in the shade, looking for some sort of pattern so as to catch the creature unaware. It appeared as if the creature was trying to be as erratic as possible, but really it was just criss-crossing on either side of the group while rotating clockwise. Once Úlfr realized this, he pumped a little bit of his own shadow magic into the arcane runes on his hands and feet, summoning large shadowy claws to each of them and waited for just before the creature's back would be facing Úlfr. As soon as it vanished again just as the pattern suggested its back would be to him, Úlfr quickly clambered up on to the rocks he was hid behind and leapt into the air. Just as the elemental reappeared Úlfr crashed into it and attempted to eviscerate the creature before it could vanish once more. In its surprise the creature full to the ground under the weight of ulfr who was slashing wildly all the way to the ground.

     Once they hit the ground Úlfr rolled away and ended his roll in a sort of crouch facing towards the creature crumpled on the ground. Turning his head quickly to face the three adventurers he flashed a quick wolvish-grin at them as a way of saying hello, before returning his attention to the creature to see if it had survived his attack.

SPOILER: Click to show

Shadowdancer shadow detecting ability to validate being able to pinpoint the elemental. I'd say Cryan would be able to as well. used Eldritch Claw tattoos from Autumn Seasonal Shop.

The situation was steadily growing worse. As Cyran tried to catch his breath, Vi’ira called forth the sky to her aid, dark clouds gathering in the sky and blotting out the very sun. Wind whipped around them, the rain acting as a balm on his and Vi’ira’s burns. She immediately moved, dispatching the fiery cultist. That left Socket to deal with the giant devil. They managed valiantly, which only left the dark elemental- but just before the construct could finish it off, it used the darkness cast from the darkened landscape to disappear.

Cyran felt the shadows stir, more an instinctual feeling than a conscious thought. His eyes followed quicker than his mind could catch up, allowing him to follow the creature’s movements, just barely. He pulled out Mercy’s Lament, trying to track its movements, darting out from the shadows after the bat like creature. Just when he was about to try and stab it, the man he’d caught a glimpse of before jumped out from the darkness, lunging at the living shadow with his claws. Cyran stopped in his tracks, only able to watch as the two hit the ground with a loud THUD.

The stranger picked himself up and flashed the trio a nonchalant grin, which Cyran returned with a slow, confused wave. He supposed this served as the answer to his earlier question… the stranger was on their side, for now. Any further questions or greetings he might have offered died on his lips, as he caught the creature stirring just as the stranger turning around- alarmed, Cyran darted past him, Mercy’s Lament raised. Behind him, completely unseen to himself or the others, a spectral figure manifested in the air and hovered there, long dark hair waving around in the air.

He put himself between the adventurer and the creature, unable to raise his knife to block the bolt of dark crimson energy that left its mouth in time- the ghost jumped in for him, raising her hand and taking the hit from the dark elemental, dissipating the dark energy.[1] Cyran didn’t quite know why the attack didn’t land, but at the moment, he wasn’t going to question it. Cyran wasn’t going to waste an opportunity that was given to him- in the elemental’s confusion, he raised Mercy’s Lament and drove the dagger right into the elemental’s face.[2]

In its last moments, it would be filled with horrifying visions of pain and torment- forced to live a death over and over again until it slumped over, finally dead.

Cyran’s chest heaved from the effort of the battle, but he still managed to sheath his dagger and turn to the stranger, concerned. “You alright?”

---

1. Spirit Guardian (1/2 hit preventions used)
2. Dagger of Torment

"Not sure who you are or how you're related to this particular assault Ser, but thank you for the assistance either way. If I could have you all gather round a moment... we can recover from this tussle and make our way to the inner sanctum." The automaton remarked, closing the distant to the barely conscious Vi'ira. As the other two came into range, the watery spear dissolved into a soothing mist that surrounded the party and undid the damage done to them.

Looking around, they didn't see reinforcements coming, one relieving fact so far in this wild day. A shrill call from the automaton sent Yukina soaring high from her perch once again, winging over the area on the frosty drafts of the Arid Mesa.
Vi'ira's injury seemed to calm itself after a short time, allowing the group to catch their breath and inspect the area.

"We should split our resources here for a few minutes. Someone stay with Vi'ira and look over the cultists for clues, one of us needs to check the entrance for traps and a way inside, and the last should scout the surroundings and keep watch for more cultists and demons to be rushing in." Suggested the construct, already eyeing the top of the temple and a path to scale it's snow dusted stones. One part of the fight was over, but Socket suspected that what lie within would be the real challenge to the party. A short reprieve would be good for all, a chance to recover the expended strength.