Sugar Hollow

The townsfolk screamed as the dragons tore into the buildings. What were they going to do? There weren't any dragonslayers around. They were sitting ducks in their homes, but they'd surely get picked off one by one if they fled. Maybe if they made it to forest, they would be safe...but the forest was full of witches. Surely witches were less dangerous than dragons? There was some debate over this, and several families decided to pick up their small children and run for the forest. Witches were only really dangerous towards kids, after all, and would likely not bother them if they were under the protection of adults. Still, they had to make it to the forest first, which involved running through the dragon-infested town. A risky proposition, indeed.

Raoul heard the screams and shouts well before we was actually in sight of the town. He kicked his horse into a light canter, keeping to the trees as he made his relatively stealthy approach. It was unlikely anyone would notice the lone rider against the sounds of the battle.

At the tree-line, he quickly scans the area, assessing the situation in a few moments. This was no battle. It was a dragon attack. Not one, but two of the beasts assaulting the quaint village. So much for a quiet getaway.

It only took a moment to realize that the town was woefully outmatched. They had no militia forming up with crossbows, not even a semi-organized retreat. The magic-user as certainly an asset, but against two rampaging dragons, he wouldn’t be placing bets on her ability to handle it alone.

Well, it was fortunate for them he happened along when he did. Maybe, just maybe, he could tip the odds in their favor. “If I don’t get myself killed doing the damned job on spec first…” He grumbled to himself and pulled the reins, guiding his horse back into the trees.

Raoul had every intention of helping if he could, but he wasn’t about to suicidally charge two dragons head-on with no preparation like some idiot knight in shining armor. No, he was more pragmatic than that. Working with cold efficiency, the hunter lashed ropes around the four or five largest trees in the vicinity, tethering a heavy harpoon to each and leaving them in the brush nearby. Because if you don’t have a backup plan, then you don’t have a plan.

Enigma would proceed with burning down a couple more buildings, the smoke from his flames and the fires themselves emitting a powerful anti-magic effect. This effect would quickly come to engulf a large area as more buidlings burned. Enigma would also pick off a few fleeing civilians, eating them.

Enigma would eventually notice Wendy, and then Gatts. He would roar at them, and then shoot a jet of fire in their direction.

"...Blessing of Ehros be upon me," the dragonslayer finished. He stood up and turned to climb back up on his winged horse, Firefly. The black steed was a fearsome creature with piercing yellow eyes, and two great dragon-like wings that allowed him to soar at tremendous speeds through the air. "Let's go, Firefly," the rugged man climbing on his back urged the steed onward, out of his hiding place and into the skies. The fierce creature snorted, although it sounded more like a growl than anything else.

The rider wore on his left hand a black gauntlet: Baug's Bane. This gauntlet could cast a magical chain that 'grabbed' its target: essentially a grappling hook. By latching onto dragon wings the user could pull and even rip the beast's wing tissue. Alternatively it could cast a shield around the wielder that protected him from dragons breath. He also wielded a weapon called Dragonlance, commonly believed to be made of dragonbone. In reality, the tip of the lance was nigh unbreakable, and could be used to skewer dragons and bury itself underneath their scales.

No normal man could possibly wield such weapons against a dragon normally, however, and so the man riding Firefly relied upon his Blessing of Ehros: a ring forged in his homeland that granted him greater strength to match his dragon opponents.

As the rider soared through the skies on his flying steed, he rode forth towards @aepessa and began to charge his gauntlet...

Charges: 1

(Wendy the Witch Raoul Ferdinand Gatts Enigma Ira, Demonlord of Wrath)

In the space of a few heartbeats, things had gone from bad to worse. The village ahead of them went from place of refuge to place of horror in the span of a few seconds and Typhus was well and truly done with the little town. He sprints ahead of the two and turns planting his feet and staring down Roy, the boy would either let go of Seren of his own accord or Typhus would make him. Seren wouldn't cease running of course since she couldn't see but she would run right into him and he would scoop her up. "I've got you, bad things are happening we need to go." Should he get her successfully in his arms he would set them on a path directly away from dragons, demons, and whatever the else was happening to the fucked little town.

She threw the seeds onto Enigma's back -- they wouldn't have done any damage at all, and they didn't even go noticed... but as she chanted the magical word to make them grow, she realized that they did nothing. What?

Her gaze narrowed, and she gestured with her hand, and the anti-magic field began to glow in her own gaze. "Dang it..." Wendy muttered to herself, floating in the air, her skirt and her hair waving and fluttering about her with the winds from atop her broom.

More players made themselves known, and she glanced over at them until the black dragon's head reared around and aimed for her. "Whoa!" She cried and pulled up on her broom, zipping out of the way and twisting around, slicing through the air.

The rumble of Hell on Earth opening for Ira, the Demonlord of Jerkness, struck fear into her bones, her heartbeat racketing up to thundering. Crap, crap, crap. She'd been trained for this, of course. The Sisters wouldn't have allowed her to leave the Enclave without having prepared her to utilize spells of all sorts and makes to help with the outside world but she just...

... well. She hadn't expected to face down two dragons and a demonlord and his horde of undying creepers. But, time was of the essence and as she flew around on her broom, the screams of dying civilians could be heard.

"Right. Okay. Here we go. I can do this," she pep-talked herself, her grimoire zooming around behind her. It flipped open to the page she needed by telepathic need, and as Gatts took on the black dragon and Tandor took on the one on the clock tower, she chanted and chanted...

... Dark clouds began to roil like snakes above them, curling upon themselves until thunder struck louder than any scream of roar below, and water fell from the heavens, soaking everything, drenching Sugar Hollow and a bit of its surrounding forests in stormy darkness. The flames from the black dragon's maw began to dwindle and die, and the dirt roads became muddy, the cobblestone streets slippery, and the storm made it hard to see.

Curiously, there was no wind, but among the dark clouds, there was flashes of light. It was brewing up for lightning strikes, all connected to the floating Witch and her grimoire, a green-ish glow about her.

“Well, fuck…” Raoul looks out at the mess of the down. Not one, not two, but now three dragons. A swarm of demons. A broom-flying witch. And now a god-damned thunderstorm. At least it would help keep the fire from spreading. Maybe.

He slips off of his horse and gives it a solid smack on the rump, trusting the beast to get itself somewhere relatively safe. “My fucking luck the damned thing will slip in the mud and break a fucking leg.” Raoul grumbles to himself, slipping through the underbrush at the treeline and trying to make sense of what is happening in Sugar Hollow. At least the rain and chaos make it unlikely anyone or anything out there will notice him. “Thank the gods for small miracles… can’t believe this bullshit… fucking rain and dragons and demons and fucking… I WAS ON FUCKING VACATION!”

Drawing an arrow from his quiver, he scans the town again. “Utter fucking chaos. So much bullshit, I swear…” Raoul glances at the arrow as he nocks it. Barbed. Hollow. Designed to stab into a large beast and leave it bleeding, growing steadily weaker as the wound just won’t close.

Later, he would decide that the rain and mud was hampering his mobility, and the fire was the reason for the rain, and Enigma was the reason for the fire. A careful, tactical choice in choosing his target.

“You know what? Fuck it. Fuck all y’all.” In the moment, he cursed, picked a target on a whim, and loosed an arrow aimed at the shoulder, just where the wing attached to the body.

Ironically, Gatt's attitude roughly matched that of the daemons assaulting the town. They abhorred magic in combat, it was the tide of emotions that had enabled their entrance, and they relied on their martial prowess, every kill granting them more power.

The Champion of Ira rolled to the side, dodging the blast even as it dissipated a good third of his forces. It mattered not, for already they were ready to reform, such was the level of anger at the destruction wrought. Kharn laughed as he looked and saw his target, the witch. He made a mighty leap and landed next to her, one axe ready to remove her head.

"Stop the spell and come with me, little witch." He roared over the din of battle.

Gatts fell heavy to the ground and grunted as the combined weight of his sword, armor, and his body all crushed his legs. He managed to stick the landing though, despite the heaviness of it. He had no reliable way of reaching the dragons if they wouldn't land. His crossbow and knives were nothing more than little pin pricks to beasts of that size. Now, between the added storm and another dragon he was earnestly pissed. He decided he would just turn around and face the horde of monstrous little creeps.

He sprinted with surprising speed into the horde of daemons and with a single swing he blew nearly a dozen apart. The combined weight of his sword and force of his swing stumbles the enemies even a few rows back but he didn't give them a chance to retaliate. He was focused. This is what he was best at. It was just him and his sword. Enemies fell before him without a struggle. The small cuts and wounds they did manage to inflict did not bother him any. Everything moved slowly when he started fighting and he was at peace. He noticed some movement from the corner of his eye and just managed to catch on the their attacks on his metal arm before he was surrounded. It was no matter. With one scream and a spinning swing all those around him fell without a chance to escape.

He finally came out of his almost trance like state. He couldn't let himself relax too much. There were too many other things going on for him to just focus on the army in front of him. He had to stay alert. He took a couple steps back and noticed the damage he had accumulated so far. Cuts, scrapes, maybe a twisted ankle, some light burns, nothing that could stop him so far.