“Oriole, Andromeda, to me!” Cyran’s voice held none of the warmth it had moments ago when speaking to Zarius - nor did his face hold any of the shyness and compassion it did when Del was complimenting him. His two apprentices were already outside at the sound of commotion, but the single command from their teacher called them to position. One apprentice on either side of Cyran, each raising their weapons as they watched the pack run rampant through the streets. They already knew what their instructions were, without Cyran having to tell them. They would stay back and help their master, supporting him from behind.

Cyran spared a passing glance for Zarius and Snow, who were hot on his heels, and Del - who appeared a few minutes later, urgency and confusion tinging her voice. Both had their fists raised, taking battle stances just before they charged into the fight. There was no question of what they were doing here. The hounds were ravaging the city, mindless beasts with nothing in their mind but the burning desire to rip and tear. Del’s idle question brought up a good point - what were they doing so far down from the volcano.

He spared a passing glance for Mount Drakolt. A plume of ash rose from its opening, forming a thick cloud that settled over the sky. Not upset, but rather… nervous.

The sight caused a feeling of dread to settle in his heart.

“Looks like the ash drove them down.” Whether it was because the beasts couldn’t breathe from the thick cloud that permeated the entire mountain or not, Cyran wasn’t sure, and those questions didn’t matter now. What was most important was eliminating the threat. He didn’t wait to see if Zarius or Del were moving - he’d fought with both before, enough to get a sense for how they operated. He trusted he could charge in with them close at his heels.

He clicked his boots together, triggering the hidden mechanism underneath to give him more speed - and propel him straight towards the closest hellhound in the descending pack.^[1] The beast lunged at him, and Cyran kicked out, slashing it in the maw with one of his knives. The next attack came from Cold Steel as the mutt flinched back from the blow. The second one from a blade glittering with frost, was far more devastating.^[2] Ice splintered from the wounds in the flesh, dousing the hellfire on the beast’s back. Three more hounds attempted to approach Cyran and cover their fallen brethren, but Cyran just fixed them all with a cold, murderous look, unflinching.^[3]

Inexplicably, the hounds were struck with the feeling that they had confronted something far stronger than them. That the seemingly weak human in front of them yielded more power than he appeared to on the surface, and the knives in his hands would tear through flesh far easier than any fangs or claws. One of them let out a whimper as they backed as far away from the Specter as they could get.

---

1. Ice Skates
2. Ice Rune
3. Looming Fear (Warlord III)

The name Oriole again, and Andromeda as well. Del takes a glance over her shoulder to see who it is that moves to Cyran's side; not his shade, his piece of shadow, but his assistants at the orphanage he trained well. Different names for them both, it seemed.

She puts it from her mind for now. There is a pack of Hell Hounds bearing down on them, voracious, keen for the hunt, leaving a trail of fire in her wake. She winces slightly as the sheafs of slag-like metal form over her arms and legs, dross that pulls from something within her bones that aches like a bruise[1]. Exhaling sharply, she pushes this aside, too, and readies herself as the pack comes near.

Her eyes slant over to Zarius, eyeing the knuckle-knife in his hands, instructing those behind them for covering fire. It would be interesting to see how this friend of Cyran handled himself.

When Cyran surges forward, Del breaks the line as well, rushing sidelong as she pulls the shadow from the ground up and around her like a cloak, evaporating immediately into darkness, while flickers of movement scatter around, like animals darting and fleeing from cover[2], and hopefully enough to provide little bits of distraction so the Hounds couldn't gang up on any one person.

Though, there were many of them.

Hidden in shadow on the packs left flank now, Del pauses for a moment to survey[3] finding the largest of the pack within the back ranks, snarling, waiting for an opening to dive in for the kill. That one, to be wary of, she figured.

As three pass close, chasing her literal shadows, Del's arms piston out of the dark grasping one of the Hell Hounds by the scruff near its head. Torquing her body, the dross on her arms melting at the contact to the Hell Hound's firey flesh, she slams it into its packmate, sending them careening with the force of the swing[4,5]. The third easily pivots, launching at Del with jaws agape. It's jaws latch around her leg, red-hot teeth gnashing on her metal covered shin, melting it into hissing puddles of molten liquid.

With a snarl on her own face, she plants this leg firmly in the ground, not about to be moved or yanked by some Hell Hound, and brings up the other. Her knee collides with the creatures jaw with a sickening crack. As it's head is rocked upward from the impact, her elbow is already waiting, and it's head bounces off the sturdy point of her arm. As that mometum transfers back toward the ground, Del brings up her leg and slams her foot into the creature's head, driving it into the cobblestone and caving its skull in with a crunch of cinder and bone.

She leaps away, her final blow decisive enough, as she flanks around behid the pack, careful and edging the shadow so she can use it again to hit-and-run.

The ones that Cyran glowers at, regal and imperious, freezing them in place, are the ones Del eyes, unsure of how they will shift, but seeing the convenient opening it leaves for Zarius.

---

[1] Art of the Iron Fist - Monk Prestige (2/3 posts left) (2/4 protections remaining)
[2] Mass Shadow Control - Shadow Dancer Prestige
[3] Heart Stopper - 1/3 observations
[4] Improvised Weapon - Brawler Prestige
[5] Extra damage from Iron Fist/Bull's Strength

Snow nocks an arrow and surveys the scene, mainly focusing on providing cover for those who rushed forward and picking off any hell hounds that slip through and threaten Andromeda and Oriole. Okay. Mostly Oriole. A wooden stick might not be the best weapon to use against a flaming fido.

Cyran had taken one down already and spooked some of the pack into hesitation. It was like Del thought, a perfect opportunity for Zarius to take advantage of. Though there was suddenly no signs of the fellblood as a veil of invisibility obscures him from everyone’s vision and his steps fall silently against the cobblestone streets.^[1,2]

Zarius could rush forward and bludgeon the fiery pooches back into the fiery hell they crawled out from, but he preferred to avoid risking getting bit back for his efforts. Closing in while invisible suited him better. So that is just what he does.

The hell hounds, stricken with fear from Cyran’s death stare, are too worried about the looming elf to notice the fellblood’s presence as he dashes up to them.^[3] The invisibility holds up until the moment he slams his fist into the skull of the first hell hound, downing it instantly as its head audibly crunches from the blow.

The remaining two, conflicted by their desire to flee from Cyran and their fury from seeing their pack mates being beaten up not only by the suddenly appearing fellblood, but also the sylvan elf towards the back, howl loudly, summoning more of their kind out from the surrounding alleys.

An arrow pierces the eye of one of the remaining two flanked by Cyran and Zarius. It howls in pain and scratches at its eye, the blue flames from the arrow not dealing nearly as much damage as expected. Of course unholy fire wouldn’t do much against creatures called hell hounds.

Zarius follows the arrow strike from Snow up with another bludgeoning strike to the head, his knuckle knives puncturing a hole in the side of its skull. He looks back at Cyran and gives a nod before noticing that Eirynor still hasn't joined the right. Weird.

The remaining spooked hellhound whimpers and snarls, anxiously waiting for more of the pack to come to the rescue. Which, from the sounds that come from the surrounding alleyways, suggest that there were many, many more hiding in the clouds of smoke rising from the buildings starting to catch on fire.

---

[1] Invisibility
[2] Silent Step
[3] Dashing

As expected, Del and Zarius leapt at the opportunity to jump into the fray - Del with her iron-covered limbs, and Zarius disappearing from sight to jump into battle while hidden. Del picked up one of the pack members and swung it at the other hounds, which was honestly… well, he definitely admired her strength, that was for sure.

An arrow struck one of the fearful hellhounds in the eye, followed up by Zarius smashing his fist into the hellhound’s skull, piercing through bone and flesh with a sharp, powerful blow.

Cyran returned the nod before focusing his attention on the remaining hellhound, which was already calling for its allies. They didn’t have much time before the others would begin pouring out from the smoke to the call - Cyran raised his hands, arms coated in a thin sheen of ice that made him shiver, before mimicking Zarius and driving his fist straight into the distracted hellhound’s back.^[1,2] The hound let out a whimper as its spine cracked and cold doused the flames. His ice splintered, creating a shard that Cyran grasped in his palm. That was one threat taken care of, so many more to go. And fire was beginning to spread.

Cyran sighed and surveyed his surroundings. Another group of three was emerging from an alley across the street, near where Oriole and Andromeda were - and a couple more from down the street in the same direction that the original group had come from. They had their work cut out for them today. A test of endurance.

Desperate to prove himself, Oriole raised his quarterstaff, whacking the nearest hellhound in its side. “Stay back!” He warned, voice trembling. While the stick might not have done much damage on its own, the enchantments imbued in the weapon packed a more powerful punch - ice and holy power packed in a single blow that sent the hellhound staggering backwards, right into a dagger thrown by Andromeda that sliced through its neck. Meanwhile, her small drake hovered through the air, blowing tiny blasts of ice at the fires spreading through the building in an attempt to mitigate the spread of the flames.

The apprentices had taken out one of the dogs, but there were still others, enraged members of the pack that were ready to avenge their fallen member. One of the hellhounds latched into Oriole’s leg with a snarl, forcing the young man to cry out in pain. Cyran whipped around, enraged - with pinpoint accuracy he threw the shard in his hand, piercing the hellhound in the eye. “Get off of him.”

---

1. Cold Fist
2. Back Stab

She feels a rush of panic as Rhi'as is bitten, though Cyran quickly handles it. Zarius is brutally effective as well, though Del can scarcely see him, hidden from view.

Del thinks. There were so many Hell Hounds coming from the other alleys, the side streets, burning things in their path. The plaza in front of the Rookery was, by all accounts, a kill-box; too many possible paths for all of them to guard against so many.

Her gaze flicks up to the clock tower. If she was by herself and not worried about causing obscene amounts of property damage, she;d be trying to bring that down to create a blockade of some kind to funnel the Hell Hounds into one or two lanes of engagement, especially the larger one that appeared to be the pack leader harrying the edges.[1] But, seeing as that was not an option...

She dips into her pocket[2] and pops something into her mouth, chewing as she dashes forward, ahead of the group. Quick eyes try to pick out the best angle, but fire and snarls are bearing down on them from the shadows; there isn't much time. Del swallows the chocolate.

The temporary, fleeting burst of magic fills her, a frigid chill like no other settling across her nerves. She holds it like her ki, the physical energy that manifests itsef along her limbs, though its so much bigger than her soul, than anything she's held before. The tether within her that tries to contain this magic starts to fray, but before it can give entirely and she loses the spell, she focuses the arcane energy forward, releasing it with a gasp of relief.

A blast of arctic chill rushes out ahead of her, toward the alleys and burning streets. Jagged sworls of hoarfrost suddenly take form, blowing through the area and coating everything at the end of the plaza away from the rookery in a fine coating of blisteringly cold rime.

At the edge of a volcano like this, unless anyone had been to Frost Gale in the depths of winter, they probably had not felt a cold such as this. And Del was betting that the Hell Hounds sure hadn't. The sudden snap of cold accumulates in clouds, as gentle snow-- real snow, not merely ash-- starts to drift down from the sky. Yelps of agony echo, mingling with the earlier howls as the Hell Hounds within the side-streets and alleys struggle against this new cold, making them easier pickings for any of her allies.

But that was not all, of course.

Five Hell Hounds from the alleys who had slipped past before the spell went off lunge. Three charge around Del, while two snap at her, one biting firmly into her metal-coated leg.[3] She winces, feeling the dross begin to melt over her leg, as she brings her knee up at the same time as her elbow comes down, smashing the Hell Hound's skull between the hardest points of her body. She kicks it off, just as the second Hell Hound jumps up, trying to gnash it's white-hot fangs at the back of her neck in order to drag her to the ground.

---

[1] Heart Stopper (2/3 observations)
[2] Hearth's Day - Blizzard Chocolate: (casting Sheer Cold in front of her, so as to avoid her allies getting affected b the spell)
[3] Art of the Iron Fist (3/4 Protections used, 1/3 posts remaining)

Zarius spots Oriole getting bitten, luckily Cyran is quick to defend him. He shoots a look at Snow up on the roof. “Do not worry about the ones around me! Pick off any trying to box us in!”

Snow pins their ears. They didn’t like getting yelled at but given the situation it really couldn’t be helped. “Yes, sir!” The catfolk keeps a better eye on the alleyways and fires arrows on any hell hounds that try to close in on Oriole and Andromeda.

With the archer back to providing support where it’s needed, Zarius turns his attention to the scene around himself. He spots Del having a bit of trouble with a pair of Hell Hounds. Glancing back at Cyran who has their hands full along with their minions, he dashes towards Del to assist her in fending off the angered canines.^[1] 

He manages to just close the gap as the hell hound make a lunge for Del's back, grabbing onto its tail and holding tight.^[2] 

The Hell Hound yelps and snarls as it lands short of Del and whirls around to snap at Zarius. 

Blue light, like the flame flickers in the fellblood's eyes and he utters an indistinguishable command, black wisps of smoke hissing out between his teeth. The hell found stops in place, the red flames erupting from its back flickering before shifting to blue edged in black smoke.^[3] Zarius lets go of the creature and locks eyes with the next one approaching. 

"Fetch."

The now blue hell hound snarls and runs past Del to attack its pack mates, unable to discern friend from foe and only follow the fellblood's will. 

Zarius coughs up some smoke before turning his attention back to Del. "Holding up okay?"

There isn't much time for her to answer before the big one starts its advance. 

Meanwhile, inside the Rookery, Eirynor has helped Eameia up the stairs to sit with her at the base of the clock tower. The young female fellblood is shaking and hyperventilating while she clutches at her head. Eirynor tries to comfort her, but has no voice to reach her with. The half-elf instead embraces her in his arms and just holds her close while she calms down. 

Eameia grits her teeth and leans into the half-elf's shoulder with her eyes squeezed tightly closed. The amount of information she gained from her spell was immeasurable and shocking to say the least. It was enough to drive one mad...and yet...with all the pain and suffering Del was subjected to over the millennia, there were little glimmers of hope and warmth. Moments of fleeting happiness, treasured seconds of fluttering butterflies in her stomach and sparks of something beautiful. Something to be protected. 

She takes a shaky breath and grips Eirynor's arm as a couple tears streak down her face. "Wh-where is everyone?"

Eirynor gently loosens his grip to sign to her that something was happening outside which everyone rushed out to deal with. 

"Go help."

The half-elf hesitates. 

"It is okay," Eameia insists. "I am fine."

Reluctantly, Eirynor lets go and gets up. He looks down at Eameia as she wipes her face on her sleeve before he turns and rushes outside to provide support, drawing his sword as he exits the building and sees the chaos and flames engulfing the street. 

---

[1] Dashing enchantment
[2] Iron Grip
[3] Profane Command

Cyran descended upon the pack of hellhounds threatening his apprentices like a grim figure of death - the unfortunate hound that made the mistake of attacking Oriole did not have time to retaliate before claws raked down its back, through layers of flame and hide, leaving behind nothing but a sickly-black rotting wound before the hound finally succumbed to its injuries and collapsed.^[1]

Cyran whirled around on Oriole, face sharp. “Get back. Andromeda and I can handle this.”

“I can still fight.” Oriole protested, face scrunched up in pain.

“I’m not arguing with you. This is an order. Go.” Though it didn’t look like there was anywhere Oriole could hide. There were far more hellhounds than humans, and the pack looked like it was trying to box them in.

Del was playing crowd control with the blizzard, her and Zarius handling a few more of the hounds side by side, and Snow shooting at approaching hounds in the distance to prevent them from getting boxed in. But they were still outnumbered - if they wanted to get rid of this swarm, they needed more power. Cyran closed his eyes, concentrating. A bead of sweat gathered on his brow as he called upon his shadow, which grew larger than himself, taking shape before it broke away from him completely, blotting out the scant light overhead as the darkness grew and took form.^[2]

The shadow let out a screech, a dark miasma of energy swirling in its black hole of a mouth - the very air seemed to grow darker around it, the shadows cast all around the buildings reaching for the hovering creature as they fed its growth. And, all at once, it let out a beam of pure darkness, cutting across the ground and carving out a gash in the concrete to hold off another round of approaching hellhounds.^[3] Good. That was one problem taken care of, at least. Cyran sent a mental command to the elemental -

Keep them away from us.

The creature obeyed, swooping down through the air through the ash and dust, engaging with the approaching hounds. Cyran turned his attention back to the battle when a blur shifted behind him - in his distraction, one of the hounds had decided to pounce on weak prey, fangs dripping with gore and viscera as it opened its teeth to clench down on Cyran’s arm-

His body moved on its own. Cyran’s arm whipped around of its own accord, ice-covered fingers forming a sharp point, forming a blade in the absence of his own knives. Sharply and suddenly, like a snake darting from the bushes, he darted out and jabbed the hellhound in the throat, puncturing it with nails sharpened from ice and determination.^[4,5] The hellhound let out a pained wheeze, blood seeping from the puncture wound he’d rendered in its neck.

They were slowly picking their way through the attacking dogs. But how much more were there to contend with?

---

1. Death Swipe
2. Summon: Dark Elemental
3. Chaos bolt (Dark Elemental)
4. Del's Eternity Ring - Sting like a Bee
5. Cold fist (punch 2/3)

She feels the heat bearing down on her back a second too late, a blow that never comes as Zarius rips the hell hound out of the air and throws it to the ground. Already mid turn to defend herself, she gets a full view as Zarius says something to the creature that Del cannot understand, and then following the creature with her eyes as it goes to attack its packmates with a burst of aggression. The blue fire... she hadn't seen the like before, she didn't think.

"I am-- are you?" She gives Zarius a puzzled look of concern at the smoke that pours from his mouth.

There isn't much time to think-- behind her she sees Cyran being lunged at by one of the Hell Hounds, only to feel something... tug. Something rooted between her heart and her spine, a tether that played a harmonious note throughout her bones as if struck by a tuning fork.

The shape of his hand takes one she knows; a knife-hand, rigid and firm, reinforced with ice as Cyran strikes a devastating blow to the Hell Hound lunging at him.

For a flicker of a moment, Del savours that strange, not-well understood connection between them, before her focus is again renewed on the Hell Hounds in front of her. The largest one snarls, and four more-- the dregs of what remains, covered in frost as the snow gently falls from the sky, along with arrows -- race from the alleys, trying to get around Zarius and Del to get into a flanking position. Just as they do, the large one lunges forward, running for them both.

"Got 'im,"[1] Del steps in front, lunging to meet the burning Hell Hound as its maw opens wide and terrible, gouts of flame pouring from its nostrils and the furnace within its throat. Getting low and then rising quickly and suddenly, Del thrusts her forearm up and into the creature's throat, cutting off the inferno that it was about to unleash. Despite slamming it into the ground, it recovers swiftly, bounding back to its feet and lunging once again for the Sylvan Elf, enraged.

Del takes the brunt of the attack, her remaining dross covered limb weeping metal as she blocks its cinder-teeth with a kick. This puts them both in an awkward position, as Del fights for control of the Hell Hound's jaws before it can wheel back around to try and rip her in half. Her arms burn and singe, but she scarcely feels it, adrenaline coursing through her as she fights to get the thrashing Hell Hound under control long enough for her to get one hand free.

---

[1] Heart Stopper 3/3
[2] Viper Dance
[3] Art of the Iron Fist (4/4 Protections used, No further posts remaining)

The blue hell hound tears at its fellow pack mates until they get wise to it and gang up in retaliation. It doesn’t take long for the hell hound to be torn apart, but it did manage to cause some significant damage to its fellow kind.

Zarius glances at Del and gives a nod in response.

"Yes," he clears his throat, though it hardly counteracts the burning sensation in the back of his throat. "I am fine."^[1]

The remaining members of the pack start to desperately circle the group only for a beam of black energy to tear down the street and evicertate a few of the ones at the front and causing the remainder to scatter in panic as the large shadowy creature pursues after them.

Glancing back at Cyran and the others, Zarius leaves himself open for a moment as one of the stragglers bolts forward at him. His skin crawls as it gets close and his attention snaps back towards it before it lands an attack.^[2]

He takes a step towards it instead of away and grabs it by its flaming hide.^[3] He winces as the flames scald his palms but he bears with the pain long enough to pivot to have his back to Del and the largest of the flaming doggos. He throws his weight backwards and drags the hell hound down with him.

“Incoming!” He shouts as he rolls backwards with the momentum of the hell hound locked in his grip and kicks it hard in the underbelly to launch it at the hell hound Del was grappling with.^[4] The two spicy puppers slam into one another, knocking the larger one off balance for a moment, but not downing it, while the smaller one falls prone on the ground.

Recovering to his feet quickly, the fellblood then sprints up and scales a nearby wall before launching himself off and slamming his heel down into the ribcage of the downed hell hound.^[5,6,7] The sound of shattering bone and a pitiful painful howl pierces the air before the poor creature falls still. He then jumps back and readies to help Del should she need more of an opening than he had created for her to finish off the pack leader. 

While this is happening, a smaller hell hound springs towards Oriole from an alleyway.

Appearing out of invisibility, Eirynor steps in to defend the Specter’s apprentice and thrusts their silver rapier into the chest of the lunging hell hound. It yelps in a pain and thrashes as the tall half-elf musters the strength to push it back off his blade. Eirynor looks at Oriole and gestures for him to retreat to the Rookery for the time being before the creature can recover its nerve to attack again.

Before that can happen though, two arrows sink deep into the creature’s skull, downing it for good. Eirynor gives Snow a nod as the archer gets ready to fire another arrow. The swordsman then joins Andromeda and Cyran in the fray, not able to necessarily down one of the creatures on his own but at least divide the pack's attention to give Cyran and Andromeda openings to exploit. 

---

[1] Smooth Talking
[2] Fighter’s Sense
[3] Iron Grip
[4] Reverse of Momentum (1/topic)
[5] Dashing
[6] Spider Silk Boots
[7] Guillotine Drop

Zarius and Del were handling themselves just fine. There was a part of Cyran that naturally worried for the both of them, though he knew they were competent - as deadly with their fists alone as he was his blades. But when Del let out a grunt of surprise when the large hellhound latched onto her arm, ripping through layers of dross and vulnerable skin underneath. Zarius reacted quickly, grabbing one of the lunging hounds and launching it directly at the other to knock it off of Del. The big one recovered - Zarius took care of the smaller one with a brutal attack aided by gravity that snapped the hound’s bone apart.

They weren’t in dire straits - but in that moment of distraction, Cyran missed the stray dog that lunged at his apprentice until the silver blade appeared from nowhere, piercing the hellhound’s chest before it could sink its teeth into its prey.

Eirynor.

Cyran sighed in relief. He hadn’t even noticed that the half-elf had been missing up until this point, but at that moment he was nothing but grateful for the young man’s entrance. He nodded at Eirynor, hoping that it conveyed all the relief and worry brewing in his heart.

Oriole didn’t argue this time when the half-elf gestured for him to make his way to the safety of the Rookery. His fighting prowess had improved leaps and bounds since the last time they battled together, but he was by no means a warrior. Gathering his bearings, he limped to the Rookery while Cyran, Andromeda, and Eirynor covered his escape.

Oriole shut the door behind him as he entered, frantically glancing around for something that might bar the door when he spotted the fellblood in the Rookery, still weak after the spell she’d cast.

“Miss Eameia?” He asked, alarmed - with no idea what was going on, he could only assume that she’d been hurt by a stray hound or something. “What’s going on?”

Outside, Cyran and Andromeda were slicing through some of the remaining pack, taking advantage of the openings that Eirynor and Snow were providing them with a flurry of steel and ice and holy magic, both carving their way to where Zarius and Del were fighting with the larger hound. The beast had taken blows from Del and Zarius, but it was still able to fight. They needed to take the large one out first, before it did any lasting damage.

Cyran was already winded from the battle, but he still managed to find a spark of magic left within him. He held his arm out and clenched his fist in the air, summoning the shadows to his aid. They twisted and writhed where they erupted from the earth, digging into the hound’s flank and holding it in place.^[1] It yelped, writhing in pain as the amalgamation of shadow and brimstone drained it of its energy. The surface level scrapes and burns along Cyran’s skin began to patch themselves up, but more importantly - it left an opening for someone to take care of the creature.

It was up to them to finish this, now.

---

1. Stinging Nettles

She had no cause to disbelieve Zarius, despite the smoke pouring from his mouth, and so, Del easily moves on to the next task in front of her, none the wiser. The large Hell Hound is difficult to control, Del growling under her breath-- Zarius' shouted warning has her lift her gaze just in time to see what was about to happen, leaning her head back and out of the way as the Hell Hound he had been grappling with slams into it, dislodging the thing from it's assault and letting Del regain her footing.

But it was back on its feet quickly, though now Del was more able to use her mobility, shift out of the way of the gnashing teeth and keeping the Hell Hound occupied with distracting blows to find a weak spot; the damn thing was a warrior in and of itself. As she and Zarius tag-team blows around it, disorienting it to prevent it from landing anything on themselves, a surge of shadowy magic pushes forth from the ground, and seizes the creature, dragging it painfully to the ground.

A smile cracks Del's face, knowing without question who that was. Elated gratitude crosses their connected rings in a brief flicker before she makes her move, darting forward to put a foot against the creature's throat to hold its head in place while her closed fist, little more than a blur, punched straight down with pinpoint accuracy onto the creature's back.

Flesh bowing around her hand as her fist collided with the Hell Hound's spine, her arm firing straight down and into the creature's chest, ribs cracking as its chest caves in and its spine bows at an unnatural angle.[1,2] Del lifts and lowers her foot on the Hell Hound's throat, face painted in a faint snarl, to cut off the last of it's breath. It emits a shuddering rattle from its shredded lungs and slumps over onto its side, limp.

As the battlefield at last grew still, Del's shoulders did not lose their tension, turning to look for Cyran in the midst of the fray. The Plaza was riddled with Hell Hound corpses, and still faintly smelled of smoke (and the still falling snow, though that likely wouldn't last much longer), but once she laid eyes on him, a distance away, a look of relief crossed her face. Eleanor was there, as well... Rhi'as was not, but Eirnyor was. Snow still on the roof, and Zarius right near to her. Everyone present and accounted for,

She pushes a patch of sweaty curls off her forehead and casts her gaze around, still a little jittery from the sudden fight. "That's the last one? Is anyone hurt?"

---

[1,2] Heart Stopper + Bull's Strength

With that final blow to the leader of the pack, the chaos that erupted in the streets of Darkveil returns to the normal every day eerie silence that comes with the near constant fall of ash from Mount Drakolt off in the distance.

"Good job," Zarius comments to Del before his voice catches in his throat and he goes into a fit of coughing.

He walks over to a nearby wall and braces one arm against it as a few plumes of smoke escape his lungs. The acrid taste burns his tongue and it takes him a moment to get a clear breath in. Once he gets a few breathes with no trouble, he straightens up and turns back to the group, offering Del a forced smile. 

"My apologies, there has been a lot more ash in the air lately."^[1]

He then looks around at all the damage to the area the pack caused. This was highly unusual behavior for the creatures. In all the years Zarius has lived in Darkveil, he has never seen such a large pack so close to the city. Hell hounds were much more common in the Deadwood, prowling through the Devil's Ridge, or on the slopes of Mount Drakolt. They rarely came so close to civilization, even when provoked. 

Zarius' eyes drift over to the towering mountain glowing ominously in the distance. A rush of heat, like boiling water being poured into his veins passes through his body, and he fights back another bout of coughing. Luckily for him, Snow interrupts with a shout from the roof in response to Del's questions.

"All clear from what I can see up here, there are a few buildings on fire across the street," the catfolk calls across the plaza. "Oriole was bit, but he made it inside."

Eirynor looks at Cyran and Andromeda and signs to them that he is sorry he was not able to provide assistance sooner. Cyran would pick up on a strange tension in the way the half-elf signs, almost like some kind of anxiety or impatience while attempting to be considerate. The tall half-elf can't help but glance back towards the Rookery as he steps away from the pair to help start putting out some of the fires started by the hell hound pack. 

Snow also joins in the effort to put out the fires as it takes some time before a wagon pulled by a team of black draft horses arrives with barrels of water. Seems word of the attack circled around quickly and someone had the right idea to send them along. It also seems that the two hooded figures driving the wagon are not just some random volunteers either, as one gives a slight bow towards Zarius before getting to work offloading the barrels. 

The fellblood nods in response but that is as far as the acknowledgement goes before he intercepts Eirynor and exchanges some silent words with the half elf with their backs to the others presumably to hide the sign language gestures from the sight of those who understood them. 

Zarius' expression looks concerned for a moment before he nods and leaves the half-elf's side to join the rest of them. He glances at Del and eyes her quickly, taking note of the damage she sustained during the fight. "Are you hurt?"

---

[1] Smooth Talking

As he pinned down the leader of the pack, Del jumped in, using the opportunity to deliver a powerful blow to the hound’s back, pinning it at the neck underfoot. Bone CRACKED, the sound echoing through the chaotic street, audible even from here. Cyran didn’t force himself to relax until it looked like the battle was well and truly over. There were no more hellhounds to take care of, only the inferno raging around them. Cyran tucked his daggers away, rolling out the cuff of his shoulder. He hadn’t sustained many injuries, but using so much of his own reserves had left him feeling empty. But he could not allow himself to rest - not yet. He could see Zarius and Del conversing in the distance, in hushed tones while everyone moved around assessing the damage and the injuries that had been accrued in the battle. Zarius seemed… distracted. Call it intuition, but even from here Cyran could see there was something off about the way he held himself, though his facial expression conveyed he was speaking in his usual smooth manner with Del.

He moved to join them, only to be stopped by Eirynor, who seemed just as distracted as Zarius. The half-elf’s eyes kept flicking towards the Rookery, as if itching to return as soon as possible.

“It’s fine.” Cyran murmured, patting Eirynor’s shoulder. “Go to whatever you need to take care of.” With his other hand, he pointed in the direction of the Rookery, an understanding smile on his face. “I’ll follow in a moment - Oriole’s still in there.”

He let Eirynor go before beckoning for Andromeda to follow him. “Come on. We should help put out the fires.”

Andromeda tucked her daggers away, imitating Cyran, before pressing her fingers to her mouth and letting out a sharp whistle. A few moments, Calliope returned to her shoulder, who responded to a small treat before obeying her order to set off and continue putting out the fires. There was little he could do in the way of his own magic to help with the efforts, but Cyran had his own two hands, and he could help reach places that others couldn’t with his wings.^[1] As he went around the town square helping others, Cyran got a good look at the town from above, able to see the true scope of the destruction.

Hound corpses littered the streets, being swept away by other concerned citizens, and men who were probably members of the mob in charge of cleaning up messes like this. A few humanoid bodies were scattered in the mix - the unfortunate ones that hadn’t been fast enough to escape the hounds in time. Hellfire blazed across buildings, candles in the dark that were rapidly being put out faster than it could spread. The chaos had been contained, but it shouldn’t have happened in the first place. What had drawn the hounds so far into the city in the first place?

His gaze drifted towards Mount Drakolt, still spewing ash and… snow into the air with a steady stream until the air was choked with it.

Perhaps it wasn’t what had drawn them in, but what had pushed them away.

He dropped back to the ground and resumed with the cleaning efforts. Eventually, he drifted back to Zarius and Del, worry radiating off of him. Both of them were close-range fighters, and he’d seen Del take a few brutal hits.

“Are you both alright?” He reached for his neck, unlatching the chain that contained his small bit of emergency healing potion, holding it out in case either needed it.^[2] He was no healer - this was all he had. “Oriole got bit, so I’m going to go check on him.” Not to mention he was worried about whatever had happened in the Rookery. “But I’ll be back in a moment.”

He handed the essence of the north to Del before she could protest, his gaze lingering on her cuts and scratches for perhaps a moment too long before turning to nod at Zarius and heading off to the bar.

---

1. Bat Wings
2. Essence of the North

"Ah-- thank you," She blinks at Zarius' praise; it wasn't that she didn't expect him to ask after her, but more the surprise, still lingering, that people asked after her at all. Save for Cyran of course, but she had known him for a couple of months at this point, and it almost felt... natural.

Speaking of natural, Del was fairly certain that coughing up a lungful of smoke did not fit that definition. She approaches, mouth open to ask is he was okay-- was he injured by one of the Hell Hounds?-- but as he dismisses it with a smile and an assurance, Del, once more, has no reason to suspect he would be telling anything other than the truth.

It doesn't feel especially good, though.

"The ash has been bad, lately," Del agrees, smiling faintly. "You did good work, too, by the way."

There was still yet more to do, nonetheless. Helping to put out the fires is work that is quick-- even quicker when Del looks up to see Cyran soaring overhead, and Eleanor and her little companion assisting those who seemed to have come out of the woodwork. Though they don't seem to be unknown, Del notes, as they bow to Zarius. But if that were the case, the response was surprisingly fast, all things considered. How had word gotten to these people to come and assist with the water as needed?

It doesn't take long for Del to find a limit, her burnt back aching from the blow from the Hell Hound-- it would have been worse if Zarius hadn't yanked it off her. She slips to the side, allowing those with sturdier, less injured builds to continue the work. Again, fortunately, it isn't long, thanks to the many hands that make light work.

As Cyran comes over, worry lining his face, and Zarius returns from his brief aside with Eirynor, Del manages a wry smile. She looks them both over, Zarius unchanged from when she last saw him save for his expression, and Cyran more closely now that she was closer to him than she had been earlier. She gives him a look over, shoulders finally sagging a little in relief.

"I asked you both first, I think," she teases amiably, before she looks down at herself; bloodied, covered in soot, ash, some burns to her hands and legs, and of course, her back. Del sighs through her nose, relenting. "I've, ah. Had worse. But Rhi'as--" or was it Oriole after all? Before she can ask though, Cyran goes to check on his apprentice at the bar, leaving her holding the potion in her hands, gazing down at it for a fond moment.

"--We could join the others there, yes? Make sure everyone else is alright?" She asks Zarius, holding the little vial in her hands as she decides whether or not to drink it. It seemed a waste to give to her, she would be alright. Rhi'as-- Oriole-- he had been bitten and hurt far worse than she. Still, in her minds eye, she can see the stern, almost imploring expression on his face if she should try to resist. The corner of her mouth lifts wryly as she finds the cap for the potion to take.

((Oops I forgot to address this in my previous post))

Eameia had made her way back down the stairs to the bar to find a clean rag to hold against her bleeding ears when Oriole flees back inside. Her head still pounds with an intense migraine and she's broken out in a cold sweat, definitely looking worse for wear compared to only moments before the fighting outside started.

She looks up at Oriole and gives him reassuring smile. "Nothing nearly as exciting as whatever happened outside. Speaking of which," she pauses and listens for a moment, noting that the sounds of combat have quieted down, "I do not think it will be necessary to bar the door. It sounds like it is over."

Back outside, the cloaked men works silently to put out the fires and soon things in the immediate area are under control. It also isn't long before even more hands show up, either to help, or to take advantage of the situation. There are a few opportunistic thieves who have the unfortunate luck of running into Andromeda in a charred alleyway while they try to pry open a weakened back door to a shop. As is to be expected in a city populated by scavengers of all shapes and sizes. They at least lack the bravado to face down someone when they have been caught red handed and quickly flee the scene. 

A pair of red fellbloods can be seen hauling up some of the hell hound bodies after hacking them into pieces. No reason to let good meat go to waste, even if it was a bit frost bitten or riddled with holes. 

Zarius watches the exchange between Cyran and Del closely. It was a little surprising to him that Cyran would offer the woman healing knowing full well that one of his charges was injured. Zarius wouldn't call the man out on what seems to be a little bit of favoritism, he was certain he would have a legitimate reason even if the fellblood couldn't discern that at a glance. That said, Del did appear to come out of the fight the most worse for wear.

"You are certainly worse off than myself," he notes before nodding to Cyran and watching him retreat into the Rookery. 

He then looks at Del. There's a moment where his eyes just linger on her a bit too long for comfort, as if trying to discern something about the woman before he nods in response to Del's question and follows her back into the Rookery.

Inside, things are untouched. Luckily the group managed to prevent any damage to the building both outside and inside. 

Zarius glances at his sister, concerned about the fact that she's holding a bloodied rag and seems to look unwell. The look she shoots him in response however, makes him keep his mouth shut. As siblings having grown up together in a fairly isolated household, they knew how to read one another even without using sign language or words.

Instead of engaging with her, Zarius goes over to Oriole as he rummages around in one of his belt pouches. The fellblood hands him a similar vial to the one Cyran had handed Del. "Those hell hounds nearly turned you into jackal jerky huh?" He teases the young apprentice.

Eameia tucks the bloodied rag into the sleeve of her shirt before stepping around the bar and approaching Cyran after he has had a chance to check on Oriole. Her movements are more stiff than before, some of her usual grace and confidence being hampered by the strain of the spell and the resulting lore dump had on her. She reaches out and gently touches Cyran's arm. 

"Can I steal you for a moment?" Eameia asks Cyran, giving Del an apologetic smile, "I hope you do not mind."

As she moves towards the stairwell once more, Zarius almost follows her but then stops when she shoots him another look. He's not pleased with being kept in the dark, but relents and turns his focus back to Del. 

"My apologies that your visit was interrupted. It is not normal for such a large pack to run rampant through the city like that. Usually you only have to worry about the city dwelling monsters and not ones from the wilds." He looks her up and down again. "You fought well though, are you self-taught?"

While Zarius talks with Del, Eameia leads Cyran up the stairwell to a more private space before turning and facing him, her smile gone and replaced with troubled concern.

"Cyran, I first must apologize. Out of caution I cast a spell on your new friend to see if we could trust her...and while I believe we can, being associated with her puts us all in grave danger. She is in grave danger."

The female fellblood fidgets with the bloodied cloth in her sleeve. Cyran would be able to easily discern that she's being earnest but is also very nervous, something he's rarely seen from her before. She meets his eyes and they grow sharper and her expression more serious.

"I cannot in good faith tell you all I now know, but if you ask it of me I will admit my guilt to Miss Delaela. All I can say is that Miss Delaela is unaware of the danger she puts everyone around her in..." She pauses and takes a breath before lowering her voice. "Her feelings for you are genuine, and I believe yours for her are as well. So, I only have one question for you: Are you willing to fight the Crown in order to protect her?"