The roar drew her from the crisp mountains, from the fallen snow, from the whistling winds and sudden light shining from a once-absent moon. All around her, the earth moaned for the petulance of nature, a wild, otherworldly savagery maiming, ripping, and clawing, reaching for the distant pinnacles of their foundation, of their world, of their kingdom, the crown nestled in their dark, twisted chambers. Her heart fluttered with the beat of birds, thundered as each breath was wasted in the Stygian horizon, eyes ghosting and glancing over the towers of ivory – but there was nothing to see, her height not as perilous, treacherous and daunting as their stretching peaks. She thought for a moment of staying within their protective walls, of pressing her frame deeper into their sanctuary, proclaiming shelter in the arches of trees and their heady boughs, incapable of following the sounds of violence and villainy again. She could have molded into virulent inquiry and wonder, felt the traces of intimidating calls and outcries pouring over the hazardous summits, lacquered to the sides of the valleys and lake. She could have been trapped in the murky glory of waiting and watching, listless and languid like all the other snared things, hoping that the return of her brethren meant danger had been annihilated. But bravery ate at her soul, a gnarled, persevering allurement that enchanted and beguiled instead of pulling her to refuge and repose, courage that boiled and brewed, audacity that gleamed and focused the depths of her sentiments. Were actions not eloquence? Hadn’t she wished, hadn’t she yearned, for moments where she could unwind her valor, curl and tangle her nerve, her daring? Hadn’t she dreamed of no longer feeling the weight of ardor and irreverence, and instead, conquering it, triumphing over the gall, the might, the infernal tirades of another time, another place, another war? Wasn’t there something beyond those high walls of the Basin, mutinous and revolutionary, winding its way towards her home? Didn’t she pledge, assure, and bless convictions, oaths, and assurances into the gilded pride of her land?

Her mind made, resolutions fostered, she and Imogen dove into the outskirts of their colossal walls, only nymph, for there would be no light, airy, fairy movements today – motions sank into the grandeur of the wastes, each motion a strong, stalwart step, pulsing and pervading daring, indomitable, and unshrinking. She knew the Steppe and all of its dangers, had lived through its harshest bouts when their former empire had been lost, crossed over glacier, ice and rime, frozen slush and chilling terrain, following the grating, discordant sounds. When the lands shook beneath her feet, Imogen released a loud yip, the briefest of warnings, before Lena’s eyes raked slowly over the form appearing through the haze. Enormous, a mammoth wreaking havoc along the punctured glaze, and she may have wasted precious moments staring and gaping at its lofty height and monstrous, demonic features. Scales, draconic, possessing a protruding horn as if to mock her species, for surely the creature had no need to wield its own sword, not with so many other treacherous features adorning it. Another roar encountered her entity, her essence, and she struggled with fear again. It wanted a challenge, and as she gazed at her fellow creatures, Arah, with her graceful ease, Leovan, newly courageous, and another unknown stag marching towards its heathenous presence (she wanted to shout for them, cry out their names to holster her bravery again, to beckon the delight of comrades at arms), she too answered the call.

Into fervor, ferocity and zeal, Lena and Imogen traced the steps of Arah, embracing the whims and catacombs of vehemence, malevolence, and dangerous passions. She’d hoped to never again feel the wake of its torturous brutality slinking and slithering through her veins, but the world rarely remembered her dreams and aspirations. Instead, she was forced to batter her way along electric stains and mottled ice, molding and carving her way towards its left front leg. She danced and twirled in the midst of shocking dips, Imogen tucked closely at her side, fueling and bolstering her ardency. Hesitation didn’t linger in her frame as she tipped her head towards its skin, sought to drag her horn across its flesh, slash and tear, as she became a blackguard instead of seraph.

[Lena and Imogen come towards the left front leg of the monster, dipping her horn towards its skin, hoping to slash. ;D]

The corporal heard the sound rupture from the mountains, like an avalanche demolishing the face of one of the Steppe's majestic peaks, but when she opened her eyes from her nap within the confines of her damp, much loved cave and made her way to observe the carnage of the snow rising to the skies, she saw none. Her ears focused in upon the sound, legs already moving her quickly roused body towards the path leading out into the mountains at an extended trot, her nares wide and her heart forcing blood into her veins at an accelerated rate. As the terrible sound rose again, fear punctured into her heart like an arrow, her limbs pushing her into as fast of a pace as she could descend the mountain, the lithe mare rather skilled and learned upon the various dangers along the way, her body leaping from flat patch to boulder, the hope she had felt upon the return of the moon stabbed over and over by every earth shaking bellow that ushered from the Steppe.

She had felt such a resurgence of faith within herself as her eyes had befallen its glowing form, her childhood spent within the arms of the Moon Goddess and the treachery she had felt towards the deity upon the loss of their home momentarily forgotten in that glorious white moon light. It had been with much peace in her being that she had retired from her patrols to rest, her fears of starvation forgotten and her dreams delightfully pleasant for the first time since the decent of the darkness. Now, the bright mark the Moon was mocking her as she chased the source of the sound, her heart a hammer keeping time to her hoof beats as she raced against her fear to flee, her warrior's heart too proud to deny this chance for glory, to defend her beautiful home as she had not defended that one before, despite her worries that this would be the battle to end them, if not simply her own life.

She slid to a halt as a puddle of gleaming, electrified slime was noticed upon the snowy earth before her, the crystalline water structures melted away around the perimeters of the strange liquid; a snort broke from her, elegant neck curving as she observed the goo, her hooves dancing about beneath her body as she circled around the edge, her golden eyes bright and wide with a lack of understanding, the fear of the unknown. Piles of snow fell from the trees around her as the monster unleashed it's cry again, the mare pivoting in a partial rear as she dove once more towards the direction of the sound, a trail of hooves appearing now in the snow that had not been decimated by whatever had seemed to maul the massive dunes that were scattered alongside the path that Illynx raced down, occasionally leaping over more massive piles of the blue, electrified substance.

As she broke into the scene, the corporal could not help but stop once again to stare at the sheer size of the devil that was invading their kingdom, her long black tail slapping about her hind limbs as she slid nearly two foot from the speed of her charge and sudden halt. It's massive, dragon like form was destroying everything it could lay claws upon, the source of the strange fluid all along the mountain it's very mouth, the static charged ooze leaking in mounds out of a maw that could swallow any one of her kin whole. She saw only those she knew but for the wolf, her spirit filling with pride almost instantaneously, ushering all sense of fear that remained in the warrior out of her being; a cry of war she hoped would rouse more than just her own blood lust broke from her maw as she dove into the fray behind Ruka, her body gaining speed as she moved down the beast's side, her hooves striking out in an attempt to damage the area that had previously been struck at by Ruka's barbed horn, with any luck now pierced with the dangerous spines from the unusual black weapon that she would assist in driving in. Without hesitation to insure her hooves made their mark, the mare slashed at the general region of where she hoped it's limb would still be before streaking towards the next limb, her senses searching for both the weapons of the dragon-beast and her friends and allies in this tremendous battle.

[ Illynx follows in after Ruka's attack on the beasties leg and tries to push in the barbs from his horn deeper (if they're even there, if not I guess she just tries to kick him :P) and then strikes with her horn at the leg before moving further down the dragon's side. ]

I'll eat your worthless little soul
At the gates of hell tonight

The stars had returned to their rightful home in the sky, surely heralding the return of the Goddess of the night. Deep down, Crowley felt a sliver of relief wedge itself in the pit of his chest. Though his relationship with the deity was short-lived thus far, it was relieving to know that she had at least come back from wherever she'd been swept away to. Situated on the peak of the mountains that bordered his home, the Weaver gazed skyward for those first few precious moments, simply taking in the sight that he'd started to think he might never see again. 'Rhiannon will be happy when she wakes,' the brindle thought to himself as he observed the twinkling of the stars above, although he knew it wouldn't be near as comforting as the aurora borealis was to the filly. A gentle sigh left his lips; at least something had happened.

But what happened next, Crowley couldn't have ever imagined. A roar sounded somewhere in the vast expanse of the Steppe, reverberating throughout the tundra and beckoning for a challenge. Not a second later, the very mountains trembled in its wake, sending drifts of snow rolling down the face of the mountain where it eventually met the ground with a forceful crash. The snow had nearly taken him with it, but a swift move to the side had him standing on a flat of rocks before it could send him tumbling to his death.

It was then that he saw it, the monster that had crawled from the deepest hole of the earth. It was huge and scaly, resembling the form of a dragon from what he could see, though it lacked the wings of one. In one fell swoop of its tail, it leveled a sizable dune of snow and was already working at taking out timbers as if they were nothing. It let out another horrendous call, and from its mouth poured a glowing, sparking substance.

Well, that escalated quickly.

Down the hill went the Weaver, ever mindful of where he stepped lest he end himself before he even got to the fight. Once on solid, unsloping ground, Crowley bolted off into a gallop to close the distance between himself and the scaly atrocity. As I ran, I could hear the pitter-patter of another being behind me. With a quick glance, I saw that Talbot had come to join me, and I couldn't help the small grin of pride that wound itself across my lips; the pup had grown considerably since his hatching, and today, we would fight our first battle side by side.

Crowley wasn't the first to arrive on the scene. There were nearly six others from what he could tell, and if he counted the wolf that was amongst the other Aurorans. Most familiar to his eyes were the forms of Arah and Illynx, who were charging fearlessly towards the beast and attempting to go for its legs. The stallion didn't stop in his charge like some had, knowing that time was precious in this situation. Unlike the others, his horns were suitable for stabbing, ripping and tearing, so he had to come up with other means of attacking.

The memory of the return of the Moon and her stars brought a sort of realization to the Weaver. Putting all of his focus into the behemoth, drooling monster, Crowley could feel the reconnection of his magic as it began to flood once more through his veins. Meeting the terrifying eyes of the monster, Crowley fired the magic away at the beast with the intent to paralyze it, if even for a moment, so that the others may have a chance to get away or land their harsh attacks. Instantly he felt a scar etch itself into his underbelly, causing him to grimace, but it wasn't enough to stop him.

Making a wide arch around the beast, Crowley was trying to get to the creature's left hind leg while Talbot kept on going, determined to get to the tail. When Crowley reached the hind leg, if he made it that close, he twisted his head to the right in an attempt to drag the tip of his horns across the scaly surface as he passed it by. After, he popped his hind up and kicked out at the creature's leg, before leaning right and trying to distance himself before the beast could crush him.

Meanwhile, Talbot had zoned in on the tail of the beast, and if he was successful in reaching it, he aimed to bury his teeth into any part that was accessible. The young hound knew it was unlikely to cause it much pain, but even if he could serve as a minor distraction for the rest of the group, then he was willing to do anything for the sake of his family.

"Talk talk talk."

[ooc - Sends magic at the monster to try and still it for as long as he can. Goes for the back left leg, tries to drag horns across it then kicks out at it, then tries to distance himself from the monster. Talbot goes for its tail and tries to bite into it.]

Chaos descended into the steps, unicorns spilling out of every damned nook and cranny. The dragon-like creature, pleased with the show, begins to slobber in anticipation, dabbling the earth with sparking blue liquid.

Ruka's barbs break off into the small crevices between scales, causing a slight wince of pain, but little more to the lizard's immediate attention. He hardly even realizes damage has been done until Illynx's kicks sends the barbs deep into its flesh. Red, electric blood rushes forth after the hooves, possibly electrocuting the small golden swirled mare, before her horn finds an even large gash, more blood spewing out to try and spark the girl's fancy.

Crowley's magic makes the movements of the large beast more sluggish, but cannot subdue his movement entirely. His allies should be thankful to the weaver, though, for it keeps the fast paced giant relatively at bay, allowing all of their attacks to land.

Arah's rack of antlers is foreseen with the sharp vision of the dragon, and the creature shoves the massive limb back at her. The barbs of the antlers dig into flesh, but the mare should be pretty well punted away for the time being. The ivory beauty offers a reprieve to Lena, whose horn strikes true and deep. The dragon lets out a gnarled cry, blue liquid spilling out and flying in the air, spattering the area with shocking spittle. His horned head dives downward toward Lena and Imogen, possibly knocking them away with a strong bat.

The opposite leg is under siege next, and the lizard swings its front leg forward, moving a step or too and trying to dislodge Ayaka. Red blood falls from the injured right leg, sparking any flesh that it may land upon. As Talbot bites into the flesh of the beast, the dragon wildly swings its barbed tail, trying to hit the hellhound but also possibly Leovan with the sudden move.

It is in this instant that Crowley's horn slash makes perfect contact, an a rush of electrifying blood rushes forth, eager to paint and electrify the stallion who has spilled it, his horns locking onto the back limb for what is almost certain to be a thrilling experience.

---

[NO ONE MAY JOIN PAST THIS POINT.]

There was nowhere to hide her shades of iniquity now. They pressed against her skull, nefarious and wanton, savage and brutal, clinging to the long-lost grandeur of her resplendent shield. Vicious ardor, gleaming from her pernicious pursuits, chiseled and disentangling, became an unsung stanza along her throat, brewing with powerful conviction, martyred by the wake of her heinous objectives, villainous aspirations. An irreverent haze settled over her heart, attempted to protect it from the sinuous, gliding satanic hands grasping, skimming, caressing along her cranium, settling into the roots of her movements, the staunch, audacious swing of her motions. Deep within her core, a menacing assurance kindled, and like so many fires before it, the embers licked at the coals, the ignition, the rousing depths of desecration, fostering her incised brow. The nymph and fairy belonged to the nightmares, to the twists and turns of demons, to the fanged glow of heathens, and to the wicked junctures of torment and terror, because she didn’t want them to lose again. The discordant throngs echoed in her memory, pieces and shards of regret and remorse, of how she hadn’t ruptured more, of how she hadn’t maimed others, of how she hadn’t torn shreds of dignity from their enemies and scarred them senseless, of how they’d lost and been driven into the arch of these glacial ruins. Her precious entity, alive, compassionate, reeling and tender, could not derive another overwhelming defeat, and would rather lay her bounties of moralities, purities and seraphic glee upon the haunting bolero of a battlefield, then allow another piercing collection of disaster reign over her kingdom. Once more, she forgot the controlled synapses and warm, nurturing bliss of soothing, assuaging harmony, and began to assemble the raw, wild ferocity chained and linked over her blood, intertwining, mingling, and settling into the boughs of her feral finery. A regal, painted canvas torn into remnants of ruthless brushstrokes, fell lyrics and murderous incantations.

Her horn pierced the monster, deep and ravishing, and for a moment she stared upon the wound she’d concocted, felt a strange satisfaction building within her, and wondered how much of it would build into regret. Should she have cared for this creature, tried to urge it to flee, to leave them alone, to drag its icy carcass away, instead of joining the mass of her assembled brethren, unwinding the terror, the destruction, the havoc of her rapier? Then, from the corner of her eye, she saw the flailing gestures of her comrades, pushed, pulled, thrashing and writhing against the armaments of the monster – no, there would be repenting now. She’d protect, she’d defend, and she’d force the corporeal distinction of her calm, serene fixture to be scattered amongst the rubble and wreckage. She’d mold herself into valor, into honor, into treachery, to ensure the safety of her empire. Her narrowed stare caught the beast’s rebuttal towards her assault, and swiftly, quickly, rapidly, she attempted to muster an escape from its rage. Its injury released a curious liquid, matching the concoctions across the frigid walls and territory, and she dared not touch its contents. A dribble of it landed upon her left haunch, and she nearly froze in terror at its shocking distinction, its painful release, but promptly regained her motions – if she stayed in place any longer there would only be more horror, more delusion. Imogen followed suit as they danced beneath its icicle entity, pursuing another notion to ravage the roaring enemy. If they continued to lay siege upon the ogre’s limbs, they’d weaken and shatter its movements, and the less immobile the treacherous essence was, the better for them. Having already brutalized the left front, she hastened beneath its mighty stature for a chance at the opposing part. The shock remaining a burning, persistent pigment in her mind, she twisted her sword again to barb the right foreleg. The kitsune joined in tandem, reaching out to bite upon its unrelenting flesh.

[While attempting to get away from the monster, some of its shocking spittle painfully lands upon her left haunch. Lena uses the opportunity of her placement to run underneath the monster, aiming to stab at his right foreleg. Imogen reaches out to bite at the same limb.]

The blood that sprayed forth from the wounds she had inflicted did not meet her flesh with the usual savory heat of life, her hooves striking true upon the barbs from Ruka's horn but the reaction drawn from the blow leaving flecks of electrified blood all along her forelimbs, each prick of the liquid tingling and shocking, striking pain where she had not expected it and drawing the mare's ears even tighter into her hairline. Ferocity filled her, the elegant corporal now aware of another threat aside from the sheer size of the beast and it's pools of deadly drool, the heart that should have become full of fear proving its soldier's worth as it was stricken with rage rather than the impulse to flee, as beast that was seemingly too massive and powerful to overcome threatened to overtake the mountains surrounding her much loved sanctuary and home.

But she was not alone, she saw them from the corners of her eyes as her horn struck at the limb, the blood that ushered forth from this strike avoided but for a few drops that splashed onto her shoulder, the sizzling of flesh as the electricity melted her coat away and proceeded to chew at her flesh for a time after the impact. Her pride carried her body swiftly down the length of the beast, her freshly inflicted flesh wounds stinging in protest as she urged her brain to ignore the impulses sent to her cortex, observing the weaver's strike to the leg she charged towards strike true; her eyes honed in upon the rear limb of the beast as she drew her speed to a sudden stand still partial seconds after the beast's blood splattered the earth, sliding to close in the remaining space as she drove her head downward, the mare drawing her blade to the side at the moment she felt that the tip would have made impact upon the already torn flesh, should the beast have avoided to maneuver it's leg out of the way. Deftly she angled her body so as to remain out of the Weaver's way but also that of any falling blood or saliva, a vicious smile gracing her lips in greeting to the long term Plague member.

[ Blood lands upon her forelimbs and shoulders after her initial attacks; she then continues down the beast and aims a vicious strike with her horn around the area where Crowley already got the beastie. Btw punt me if any of this makes no sense. x3 ]

I'll eat your worthless little soul
At the gates of hell tonight

The second that his horns locked into the lumbering beast's leg, Crowley knew he was in trouble. Its blood seems to burst forth from the appendage, draping the brindled stud in blue, but this is now ordinary blood at all. For several long, intense moments, the Weaver felt as though he had been struck by the Time God himself. His body quaked at the elecrical currents produced by the creature's blood, temporarily paralyzing him in place and leaving him at the mercy of the beast for much longer than he dared to think about.

But eventually, and if nothing more was done by the draconic thing, the currents died down and the brindle broke away from the close vicinity of his foe. His body would still tremor if he came to a stand still, and the effects of the blood would surely haunt him for the next few coming days, but it was petty compared to what else this beast could do to both him and the lands of Helovia. Behind him, he could hear the pounding of hoofbeats, and turning his head briefly, yellow eyes meeting the similarly hued ones of the Basin's dearest Corporal, Illynx. Crowley spared her a gnarled grin before looking away, focusing back on his own path and wishing the golden-clad mare the best of luck in this fight.

Just as soon as Crowley began to calculate his next move, he watched as Talbot was cast to the side by the tail of the beast, hitting the ground with an audible thump, the force enough to produce a yelp from the still young Hellhound. A pang of worry and fear welled deep within the Weaver's chest as he watched his partner get downed, but as luck would have it, Talbot regained his footing and could be seen darting away from the thrashing tail, but not without consequence. The barbed tail struck him in the rear, causing another yelp to leave the pup's mouth, but it didn't stop him from the rest of his escape attempt. The hound cast a quick glance of reassurance to his master before performing yet another attack, this time trying his best to dart beneath the belly of the beast and leap up, aiming to bite into the more tender skin of the underbelly.

Thankful that his canine friend was alright for the most part, Crowley turned his sights back on the towering behemoth, never stopping. Currently, he had circled back to the right, heading towards where the left shoulder should be. His earlier use of magic seemed to have proven useful, so willing the darkness that was his magic to form again, he cast yet another curse towards the creature, but this time... It all went south.

At first, Crowley was consumed by an all encompassing feeling of drowsiness, the very thing he had tried to inflict upon his foe. No... that wasn't how it was supposed to work! Had he truly cursed himself instead? His eyelids flickered as he slowed his pace somewhat, traveling now at a speedy trot. Giving a shake of his head, Crowley tried to shrug his sudden lethary away, but it was proving more and more difficult with every step he took.

But it didn't end there.

As he continued to gaze upon the scaly creature, the Weaver was suddenly overcome with a sudden, insatiable sense of both hunger and thirst. While being hunger or thirsty at a time like this wouldn't normally be a problem, for he could just worry about it after the destroyer of a land was defeated, this was different. Every fiber of his being demanded that he saite himself no matter the danger right in front of him, and if he did not, then he would surely fall over dead on his side. Or at least, that's what it felt like.

Planting his feet and coming to a sudden stop, Crowley dropped his head and gathered a mouthful of snow, as it was the only water source in his immediate vicinity. It did next to nothing to satisfy his primal needs, however, and his belly quickly reminded him that there were many more choices available in regards to ridding him of hunger. His eyes landed back on the creature of the Steppe, and while his stomach purred at the thought, a feeling of repulsion made itself known in the back of the Weaver's mind.

With a sudden burst of energy, undoubtedly driven by his outrageous need to eat, Crowley barreled towards the beast's left front leg, and if he was successful in even reaching it, he opened his mouth to deliver the most punishing bite he could deal, which admittedly wasn't much considering the dragon's armor-like scales.

But it just sounded so delicious.

[ooc - In case any of you are wondering, Crowley's curse got kicked back into gear and that's why he wants dragon stew for dinner. >___> And why he has a mouthful of snow.

Is temporarily paralyzed by the blood of the dragon, then scampers away to the left of the monster. Stops, eats a mouthful of snow. Charges forward and tries to bite into the dragon's left front leg. Talbot is hit in the rear by the barbed tail, then tries running under the dragon to bite its stomach.]

"Talk talk talk."

Before she knew what was happening the leg is shover towards her. Her antlers make a small and brief contact with the legs, however it is her who receives that worst hit. The legs collides into her chest, knocking the wind out of her and dealing some serious bruising. Her entire body sails through the air, before thudding into the snow a few meters away. Pain flares through the entire body, and a small moan escapes her lips. For a while she just lays there, the world, sounds and movements of others distorted. Nothing makes sense to the mare, her crippled form just lay in the snow. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on her breathing. In and out...in and out... Slowly the world came together once again and Arah tries to think about moving again. She had to get back into the fight, she had to help her brothers and sisters get rid of this monsters that was threatening their home, their friends but more that her home was fairly close for a monster of this size. Her limbs felt like logs attached to the end of her body, she could barely lift each one. But slowly, painfully she managed to get herself upright. The battle was still raging with an unbelievable amount anger.

Dazed and still not stable on her legs, Arah stumbles to the side. Simply pleased that she didn't topple over, the ivory doe stood back for a moment and watched the battle. Her thoughts were still jammed however, not much was going through her mind, she couldn't figure out what she should do or where so should go. Looking over the monster and those battling it she sae so many familiar faces, yet she could not think of their names or how she had met each one.

So instead she just stood there watching each person fight, and wondering what she was supposed to be doing.

[Arah is dazed and does not attack this round.]

The beast roared and stomped all four of it's legs in a rage of pain, sending charged blood spewing from severed, bleeding limbs in all directions. It lowers its head, narrowing blue, snake's eyes before closing the armored lids and jabbing the thick, scaled bones of its head through the ground in a large semi-circle. The gash in the permafrost was wide and deep enough to have to jump, but at least the intelligent creature now had a wall of sorts, a barrier.

Somehow, in his movements, he missed the bay mare who moved underneath his belly, and her horn slashed too true for comfort. The coiled blade of Lena severed a major artery in the creature's leg, and this was both good and bad. Along with Crowley's magic use, the slowed beast was now slowing even more from bloodloss, but the crimson, charged liquid was now flowing in a thick river all around the beast, making falling more likely and more dangerous.

Since the blood of the monster was already flowing thickly, Imogen managed to bite the flesh and tear it more, but with no doubt, a torrent of the crimson liquid painted his coat with pain.

The creature released a harrowing, deep cry that reverberated through the mountains. Blood was gushing from her wound. The beast turned around to face the creatures, narrowly avoiding Illynx's attack to her hind leg, and the large dragon smashed her tail into the ground then swept it harshly around her side, drawing any in the perimeter close, right within her taloned grasp.

Facing Ruka, the monster lifted her neck, so his barbed horn passed just beneath her throat, but still sliced it open. Shocking blood fell from the wound almost instantly, straight down onto his body, and the beast drew a hand up to try and catch the barbed unicorn midleap. While she managed to miss, the beast slammed the hand down, certainly catching the unicorn with her body-length talons.

Crowley managed to bite the monster's leg, all right. He also got a mouthful of shocking blood, but Talbot failed in his efforts. The creature spit a large pool of blue liquid in front of itself, effectively blocking any sane attacks for the time being. The smell of smoke caught her attention next, and she saw that the wolf was already cooking. The beast moved down to try and pick up the wolf in her massive jaws since she was hungry and tired and desperately needing a snack.

Ah, but the final stallion manages to catch her. Blood pouring from her arteries and neck, she falls. She cries, a mournful, powerful sound before falling to the snow, broken and beaten.

Blue eyes close, but another set opens. From within her belly rumbles something... life. Razor sharp talons tear her flesh from within, revealing triplets of smaller, dangerous looking beastlings. Like raptors, they grin, standing on birdlike hind legs. Longer forelimbs with deft, hands click and clack as they stare hungrily. One of them lets out a warped call and the rest of them follow before running after the unicorns, toothy jaws open and eager.

The unsung hymns of her treachery, of her exposed pieces, lit up the skies, the sinew, and the pulsing vibrancy of her glowing resplendence as she embraced the serrated edge of her sword like a lover. A primal, wild caress, a vicious, hedonistic stroke, the nymph was a torn soul split along the masses of machinations, calculations and howling, raptorial crusades. Maddeningly, primitive, ruthless, an awakened demon in the dimness, walking the pathways of sinner and seraph, the perfidy of her once innocent actions were lost as she slashed, tore, clawed and consumed. Sinister lineage infused with the tangible threads of indomitable efforts, sumptuous, gliding keens and wails of silent strength, a challenging opus crossing over the horizon of her unearthly, ethereal crusades and fixations. Atavistic, she slipped from the rim of her virtues, of her morality, felt the long lost tenor of all the locked corridors she’d kept hidden and covert suddenly revealed in the cold raptures, in the decadent harshness, in the hot, grinding menace of her emphatic valor. Was this bravery? Was this honor? Was this courage and conviction seeping from her veins, from her haunting, hunting gestures, prey turned predator, rapacious and wanton, or was it the heedless, rancorous persecution of another? Was this justice, or was it vengeance? Was it annihilation or protection? Was this reaction to a threat against her kingdom and country, or the longing, the yearning, the deep, clandestine desires for the strangling, smothering, smoldering ardor of battle again? If someone breathed in her ear of her fairness, of her boldness, of her audacity and her righteous clamor, would it make the stretching moments of lacerating skin, burrowing vehemence, and rasping malevolence warranted, vindicated? If lungs crooned the flicker of her dark, pressing iniquities, of her monstrous transgressions and immoralities deep into the hopeful beats of her heart, would she wither again, writhing and grasping for the lingering remnants of her compassion, her fortitude, and her composure? What if the blood staining her rapier couldn’t be washed away?

The rumble of discord hastened her mind to the wily, cunning maneuvering, the callous reality of barbarians wrestling and tangling in the midst of the toxic indulgences, faltering, falling, traipsing over escaping endeavors. The instant her horn struck true, deep, resonating, bleak and extensive, draining life from its humming vitality, hazards and perils thrummed in the pervading texture of chilling, glacial air, turning all the whimsies, all the fancies, all the capricious delights and bliss from her body into formulated schemes and foils, ruses and strategies. Lena remembered the unrelenting sting etched across her haunch, still felt it dragged and scratched into the essence of her once amber, honeyed, gilded form, and had no need for it again, but then Imogen launched into her assailment, and something choked inside of her, stilled her motions into dulled, mute contortions. Pride, for the overwhelming sense of love, adoration and benediction the kitsune uttered and ensued, never hesitating, never faltering, never stumbling into her vicious assault. Shame, for bending her companion into a state of viciousness, carried over the wind and blood, chirps and trills forgotten in the grating, strident calls for barbarity. Fear, for as the fox careened into flesh and ripped, lifeforce, shocking plumes of potency lingered over the once beautiful pelt of immaculate ivory and blue. Disgrace and terror, when the sharp, piercing cry careened from Imogen’s maw and her small body twitched from the punctures of pain.

Suddenly, she was a frenzy of movement. Not elegant, not refined, not picturesque or dainty, graceful or eloquent; something else altogether, wild, untamed and feral, stretching across the loam, launching over pools of crimson, a tangled, unkempt blur spread across the icy floor. Lena lowered her cranium for one moment, completely, utterly silent, opened her muzzle to snare Imogen’s pelt into her ivories, and became naught more than a restless spirit, a beautiful, aching ghost careening across the plain, to safety, to security, to sanctuary. Her mouth stung from the bits of monster’s ichor trapped across her tongue, and her heart hurt from the vicious assailments and sieges she’d waged upon it and her friend. Her eyes were cutting cords of ambrosia, stinging, blinking back tears, and only when she glimpsed upon Arah’s fallen frame, bleak on the rime banks, was she completely shocked into normalcy. It only took her a few moments, but in those precious, gliding seconds, the fellow mare, the wonderful, furtive Impersonator, had managed to obtain mobility, standing amongst the careening bulrushes of anger, of poison, of grandeur in the heathen hills.

She couldn’t fall apart in the stead of Arah’s reach, she couldn’t unwind her treachery across the stony walls, and she couldn’t allow herself to falter anymore. In such a flutter of emotions, in such a flux of transient parts and portions she never let anyone witness, she pressed her decaying soul in front of the pale femme, dropped Imogen’s flailing form at her feet. Perhaps some vital piece of her caressed the bounty of her core strength, sensed the rawness, the passing junctures of cruelty, flickering over her quintessence, and offered the briefest of gifts – motioning over her veins was the insubstantial presence of her enchantments, coiling, tepid, muted, enough for one harmony to stroke her vocals. A bitter invocation, meant for a solo bout of mellifluous dreams, reverie and repose over the brewing satanic opus. Her words became floating gasps, short, shallow, damaged punctures of poetry, where melody was dragged from the ribbed portions of lips not burned, not kindled and incensed from the thickened hymns of savagery. Prayers and proclamations, meant for companions, of fox distinction and masked mares. Her gaze bore deeply into Arah’s, tried to find the connection of the unseen auroras, the glacial expanse, the unwinding danger they’d crossed and nearly triumphed – just a bit more (and she couldn’t help but wonder, as she sang her notes and stanzas, if her song was the worst kind, hymns and virtues stoked by vanquishing and triumph? Was this adversity or revenge now?).

“Demons hidden,
Come undone.
Bury your heart a little longer,
Thrive again.”

The golden sheen of her layered request beat over the two souls, and while minute, while small and segmented, broken immediately after, they had to offer some sort of assuaging, some sense of comfort. She was relieved when her stare came to her the dancing Imogen at her feet, seemingly restless, eager to go again, no matter the aches and pains still thriving in perilous thievery along her pelt. The songbird nearly wept again, but caught herself, allowed the slimmest smiles over her seared lips to Arah, to kitsune, and only when the harsh fall of the monster erupted over the valley did she twist her eyes away from the scene, afraid she’d expose something else over the layers and mysteries of the world without them in her sight. There was no time to ask Arah if she was well, if she had been mended from her upheavals. Instead, the sylph peered at the strange sight, of a behemoth fallen into the shambles of ice and snow, and almost allowed the ounce of success to travel over her body, over her pelt, wash away the agony and blood, but another peculiar image followed thereafter, choked her efforts. Monsters renewed, brought back to life by their mother’s sacrifice, raptors clicking and clacking, humming their heinous doldrums, their vicious chords, intending to destroy what their dam could not. Perhaps, in another moment of sacrifice, she bowed her head to the wind and caught the last, flailing tendrils of wickedness floating within her grasp. She moved her form in front of Arah, bestowed protection and annihilation in one swift gesture, lionhearted, courageous, and ominous again. A baleful warning ensued from the stern, composed stature of her taut frame, the last request she’d make of her kitsune. “Imogen, I need your fire.” The fox, though young, though wounded, was arduous, delighted to free her smoke and embers from the painful container her body currently possessed, and no matter how fragile they were, she’d pass the flames towards the newfound monsters. She parted her mouth and reached deep into her innards, summoned the glowing opulence, the wondrous grandeur, of eternal inferno, allowed it to flow across her lips, to dance across the tips of her waving tails, combustion and conflagration traveling with sinister intent towards the swarm of newfound beasts.

[After Lena and Imogen attack the monster, Imogen is sprayed with the shocking lifeforce. Lena picks her up by her mouth, and though it burns, takes her companion towards Arah. She offers them a brief healing song, and afterwards, asks Imogen to deliver flames towards the raptors.]

She missed; a vicious snarl broke from her lips, aggravation evident upon the mare's features at being out-maneuvered by a moving boulder. Dancing about on her hooves, the movements of Crowley in the corner of her sight were a brief distraction, the mare having just enough time to wonder why it was he had chosen now to take a mouthful of snow, proving to be a vast mistake on behalf of the slender golden corporal. The beast's tail had curled around in her moment of befuddlement and rage and struck into her side with the force of a full grown tree barreling down a mountain, sending her unwillingly through a large gathering of the glimmering, blue blood of the monster, the liquid burning the tender inner parts of her hooves and the lower parts of her limbs as the mare struggled to maintain balance as she was drug across the earth. Her whimpers of discomfort were swallowed, golden gaze bright and searching as her neck swept about to provide her a view of where this wild tail ride was taking her, and much to her horror it seemed that she was being pulled directly towards the front talons of the monstrosity. Thinking quickly, the corporal steeled her will against the agony in her legs and leaped upwards, hoping to clear the ensnarement of the barbed tail in time to avoid being snatched up in the lethal claws; her hindquarters raged at the pressure being placed upon her singed flesh, but she managed to leap up and over the tail in the nick of time, landing with a splash in a puddle of the blood which splattered upon her belly and further up her legs, the mare feeling the burn of veins meeting a rush of oxygen where the barbs had broken her skin along her ribs.

This time, the pain was too much to continue charging forward, the golden laced temptress feeling a sickness rising up in her breast as she bleakly observed the earthen wall the beast had created with it's great horned head, the rivers of blood streaking bolts of electrified current across their surfaces. It is with great inner pleasure that she observes the blow of Leovan upon the beast's leg, her severed throat and bleeding limbs drawing the colossus to the earth at long last, the sight and reverberations of the earth enough to re-inspire Illynx, who thankfully was not in the way of the body's collapse; she braces her limbs for the thunderous impact upon the soil, then loops back around out of the pools of saliva and blood, taking every step gingerly as she observes the sinking of the monster.

Something is wrong, she thinks to herself, her gaze watching the breath leave the dragon, it's still moving. The sides of the creature seem to regain their breath in the moments after death, to corporal's ears finding themselves flat upon her head once more as she braces herself, spreading hooves apart and preparing her body for quick movement, though her muscles trembled with pain and exhaustion, the previous rush of adrenaline that had fueled her onslaught burning only fumes. She gazed about her at her companions of war, concern finding itself on her face as she discovers that many of her herd-mates and also the strange wolf had suffered greatly from the wrath of the lightning creature, and though she had assumed as much from the commotion of noise around her, she certainly hadn't thought that Lena would have had to utilize her healing talents so soon or in such vast amounts when all was said and done here.

A chattering arose from the corpse of the dragon, the mare's senses attuned completely once more to the strangeness of this occurrence, the sides of the beast's scaled hide heaving and rippling before finally rupturing open to reveal small, hideously reptilian faces, a trio of raptor-like devils bursting from the belly of the fallen storm queen. If the corporal had been given time to ponder this occurance, it may have saddened her to think of the loss that Helovia had sustained today, the life of this collosal beast liably predating any of the currently existing societies that littered the continent today - but there was no time to pause, to consider what tale of magical life the warriors of the mountain had brought to an end on this day. All Illynx could think of now was how weary and battle torn she was, that her speed was greatly compromised by her savaged sides and limbs, and that these things were much faster than their mother had been.

"Son of a hornless whore," she cursed under her breath, observing the paths of the trio as they drove towards the unicorns. She turned around and began to move further away from the oozing and dangerous miniature lake of electrified blood, hoping to reach Arah and Lena to provide aid and more defense for the healer and the wounded, her burned limbs screaming with every step as she gingerly cantered about ten feet away from the nearest rim of the blue flood, but forced to turn about early as she found that one of the devils had drawn to close to her for comfort; she drove forward, her shoulders sweeping low and her forelimbs spread apart for balance, the tip of her horn aimed towards the narrow and seemingly fragile belly and chest of the creature and drug upwards in a slight curve, hoping to lacerate the scaled flesh and perhaps send forth a spray of blood - or intestines, the sound of kitsune's flame informing her that Lena and Arah had troubles of their own behind her.

[ The tail hits Illynx on the side, dragging her around towards the front of the dragon. She narrowly leaps up over the thing before it gets her to the claws, but the barbs have caused damage to her side. Also, being drug through the blood and jumping into a puddle of it have left her legs, hooves, and underbelly with electrical burns. She moves back out of the range of the blood after the dragon falls, aiming a blow with her horn towards one of the raptors that have come from the belly and hoping to slit it's gut open or at least make it bleed some. ]