Chaos Theorem

Sabriel scrambled away, fear lending her movements strength as she made it out of range, the demon's hands catching the end of her boot as she hastened to slip it off. Having barely made it away, she launched an arrow from pretty much point blank, lodging it through the Bloodkin's eye just as the rumbling started. She kept her distance still, noticing that she had cut her lower leg off a rock while scrambling away, a bead of blood dripping down her leg.

She turned to the sound of the rumbling, stepping away from her fallen foe as she did, eyes widening in fear at the sight of a real-life Sentinel, something she'd heard about but had never seen. Her arrows weren't going to do a whole lot against that thing's hide. That said, if she could get to Raven or Atra and see if they had a length of chain in their Void, she could either try attach it herself or see if the Druid had enough energy to manipulate the earth so it would be more sturdy. It would have to be to affect the Sentinel.

Atra narrowed his eyes on the last of the Bloodkin. His allies, most of them newly arrived, had all finished battling their respective opponents. Atra grimaced; it was the first time he can remember where he'd finished last. Nonetheless, deciding to end his role off with a bit of style, Atra levied his blade and allowed his opponent to take the first strike. Naturally, he did. The Bloodkin lurched forward and, seemingly, attempted to lodge its nails into Atra's neck. Surprised by such an unorthodox attack, Atra was forced to respond with a less than satisfactory strike; using his elbow to force the unarmed demon a fair distance away from him, Atra readied his word and plunged the rapier deep into the red-skin's flesh. Satisfied, Atra gripped the sword tighter, grinned, and pulled it out with a twist. Direct hit, apparently.

The feeling of triumph was decidedly short-lived, though. With a grimace, only moments after the fiendish Bloodkin had fallen, Atra was greeted with an extremely unwelcome sight. Turning to face the same direction as his compatriots, Atra found himself face to... err... leg, with one of the most feared Necromantic constructs. The Sentinel. Atra glared at the beast, and immediately took off backwards, conjuring his repeater cross-bow. He wasn't sure how effective a rapier would be against the creation, so he figured he could distract it or weaken it with his bolts and allow the newcomers to slay the thing. Taking aim, Atra levied the cross-bow directly at the Sentinel's gem, and fired. The repeater immediately let loose a stream of fairly consistent, relatively rapid-fire bolts. As the feeder became empty, the Void quickly did its role and filled it back up again. Void Magic was exceedingly useful in situations like this.

The Sentinel gave an almighty lurch forward, throwing up one of its mallet-like arms and smacking away the bolts fired at it by Atra, "RRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGIIIIIII!" It bellowed, a screeching hiss; an ear splitting noise as the shadow tendrils cloaking the Sentinel shifted and glowed a strange purple hue. The Sentinel's core darkened as the tendrils of shadow began to unwrap themselves from around its body, snaking around it bulk as it lumbered forward towards the group at a speed that would have made a snail laugh pityingly.

"Stay away from those tendrils," Gerard called out, having frozen the Bloodkin that had hope to attack him, freezing it solid in a giant block of ice. "If it catches you with those things it will literally suck the life out of you!" But much to Gerard's horror, when the tendrils finished unraveling, rippling out from the Sentinel's ghastly core, which now glowed with the same dark purple hue as the shadows flickering out from it, they did not fly after any of his new comrades in arms. No, they did something much worse. They reared into the sky, much like Eliphas' Blood Mist Chains had done, before plugging into the ground, cracking it and causing the entire clearing to quake with the force of the attack.

"RRRRRRRAWWWWWWWWWWWRRRR!" The necromantic construct buzzed again, flashing with light as it arched its back, strange energy pulsing out from its core and flowing along the tendrils of shadow and into the group like water along a hose. It made Gerard want to vomit - such an unnatural thing was already making hims ill through his Sensory Sink without exerting any of its powers, but now it was actually doing something the urge to retch in disgust was only getting worse.

And after a few seconds of waiting in anticipation, trying to work out what the Sentinel was actually doing, he was rather violently ill when he saw a hand erupt from the ground - luckily he'd been able to discard his balaclava before hand. Soon more followed it, and before long Ghouls were clambering out of the ground. He was quickly sick a second time. Ordinary ghouls terrified him as it was, a fear that was completely justified in his own opinion, but these creature were even worse. Shriveled and dried up husk, decaying flesh hanging loosely from bleached bones - some were missing limbs whilst one lacked eyes, nothing but empty sockets which had the eyeballs gauged from them by a crude blade. But all of them were shrouded by the same shadow magic, flickering like flames around their skulls, whilst those that were missing a limb had it quickly replaced by one made of shadow - even the eyeless ghoul had new eyes made of shadow gifted too it.

With a total of seven ghouls summoned, the Sentinel retracted the tendrils of shadow out of the ground, before buzzing out a ear splitting screech, the Ghouls however understood it as some twisted order to follow. And as one, the Sentinel and its guard of gruesome Ghouls advanced as one towards the heroes. Gerard, for all his magical talent and intellect, his cunning and quick thinking, he could only cower frozen on his hands and knees as his greatest fear loomed before him - more terrible than even in his worst nightmare.

I mustn't run away, I mustn't run away. I. Mustn't. Run. Away. But no matter how many times he repeated it, it did nothing to ease his fear, nor did it help him regain control of his suddenly slack body. He was, ironicly, completely frozen in terror.

---

"What's this, Gerard," the women watching the events through her Visual Orb murmured to herself, lips twisting upwards into a delightfully cruel smile, a tinge of laughter trace over her voice, "still afraid of silly little Ghouls? Oh, how very pathetic, You really can't get past, well the past, can you, little brother...?" This was just too good to be true - now she had the perfect way to deal with him. If he even survived the battle with the Sentinel in the first place, that was.

The wolf dug its claws into the ground as the rock-golem set forth an earthquake, barely saving itself from being thrown up into the air. When the quakes subsided, more monsters emerged from the ground (a count of seven) and the mage-human did nothing but gape in terror. The wolf lurched to its feet; for a moment, it tottered dizzily from its wounds. Soon the animal recovered, springing into action. It did not attack the rock-golem or the dead-monsters, but made a beeline toward the mage-human. Magic surged around the beast, suppressing pain and blood flow, and adrenaline carried the wolf to the mage-human in a flash. It headbutted its quarry, not intending to injure, but with enough force to shock a body. Then it grabbed the mage-human's cloak with its maw and dragged him farther from the demons, near the line of trees at the edge of the clearing.

Its target safe for the moment, the wolf turned square toward the advancing foes. Again tendrils of light sprang forth from the air and spiraled around the wolf, converging into its body and enveloping its large form in a soft glow. One moment it was a quadrupedal canine; the next, the lithe form of a savage stood in its place. The druid had waist-length black hair draped across his right eye, with feathers and strings of beads strung into it (these accessories buzzed with a faint magical presence). The patterns that had adorned the wolf's fur were tattooed into the man's tanned skin. His pointed ears betrayed his elven blood. Furthermore, the wound on the wolf's underbelly had carried over to this form as well; but now, the slash was healing. The mark was raw, but it no longer dripped blood.

Completely oblivious to his state of undress, the druid walked calmly over to a nearby tree, choosing a strong specimen. Broad branches, green leaves, a thick trunk, and a good height. The druid placed his hand on the tree's trunk, moving in so that his whole left side was pressed against the bark. The tree rustled noisily in the wind, leaves hissing amongst each other, branches clattering with anticipation, like the entire tree was coming to life. And it was. It ripped its formidable roots out of the ground, leaving deep trenches in its wake, and shoved its way into the demons' paths. The druid subtly positioned his tree-golem to shield the mage-human from sight and attack. He could come out when he was ready.

The spell took up a massive amount of energy and concentration, so the druid also lingered on the outskirts of the battlefield. He focused a narrow stream of spiraling magic, faintly visible if one had that gift, into the tree, meanwhile keeping his eyes on the line of enemies and fully prepared to erect a form of defense to protect himself or his allies. His wound throbbed as his magic was redirected from healing, but the druid ignored it.

Sabriel put distance between herself and the Sentinel, fully prepared to flee if it was necessary. She had no qualms about leaving if her life was in danger in a hopeless situation, though she would confess to regret about leaving Raven behind. Cowardice didn't bother her very much considering she was an assassin and had killed many a target by poisoning them and running away. She felt that cowardice, or pragmatism as she more often referred to it as, was in the job description.

Now was one of the times she felt suc a question arising, whether to flee and live or stay and risk dying. The Sentinel outright struck fear into her heart, and even though she had grown used to fear somewhat over her centuries, she still had to focus to stop herself from shaking, for example when she fired her arrows. Not that they would do mug against a beast like this. No mater how well made her projectiles were made, the Sentinel was made of stone, leaving her powerless against it.

The ghouls, however, were a different story, she thought as she lit an arrow aflame and launched it at one of the seven's heads, not really sure of how much damage it would do but reasonably confident she could make a difference there. She looked over at Gerard with passive indifference, inside feeling almost disappointed that he hadn't been able to do more. She realised that motivating him to aid against the Sentinel could be key to their victory, as she didn't fancy their chances otherwise.

"C'mon human, you're tougher than that," her low voice called out, having backed up so far that she was only a few meters from the tree. Firing another flaming arrow at a ghoul, she allowed herself a glance back, taking in the now-human Druid with a faintly amused look in her dark eyes, surprised to see that he looked younger than she herself was. She had always imagined Druids as much older and wiser beings than herself.

"You thought you could handle this by yourself and now you're cowering at the sight of some ghouls? I had you pegged as tougher than that, don't disappoint me now," she called, her eyes looking curiously into the druid's own before flitting back to the battlefield. "We actually need you now, so if you could get up off your sorry ass, that'd be greatly appreciated."

"Why don't you try having your older sister having a ghoul try to eat you whilst you're just eight years old and come out of it without being terrified of them!" Gerard hissed, now a rather nasty shade of gray. Though, he knew the elf had a slight point - he could cower in fear and die for sure, of he could at least die with what little dignity he had left by going down fighting.

Pushing himself up onto shaky legs with his staff as a support post, Gerard knew he had to think up some sort of plan. He wasn't sure how much the others knew about Sentinels, which meant he was the one that had to figured out how to beat this thing. "The Paladin," he murmured, jerking his head to the other elf, "he's the only one that won't have the life instantly sucked out of him by those shadow tendrils, his Holy Aura should protect him for the most part seeing as the Sentinel is embodied with powerful shadow magic - he's the one that will probably have to strike the killing blow, or at least use his powers to ward of the shadows long enough for someone else to make use of an opening.

"The Demons Hunters should deal with the ghouls first, they're ranged abilities should render them harmless easily enough," he said, knowing that if one of the ghouls got a hold of anyone, they might as well have been caught by the Sentinel. "The Sentinel is really to slow to be much of a threat right now, it'll need to build up more power after summoning those ghouls - take out the ghouls and we can focus our efforts on the Sentinel and creating an opening for the Paladin."

"Got you back up, didn't it?" Sabriel winked at Gerard, pleased that she had driven him to anger. While, at least for her, his short orders hadn't provided any miraculous tactical breakthroughs, it had at least offered the group as a whole some direction and guidelines. She continued volleying arrows at the ghouls though, hoping that the strips of flesh would make them easier to set alight with her arrows. She wasn't too sure how much the shadow would change things, but she was certain it was worth a try.

She couldn't help but feel slightly sorry for Gerard though, she had to admit. It was nasty for anyone to run up against a pack of ghouls like the ones that they faced, especially with a Sentinel in tow, and not even taking into account some kind of traumatic past experience with the monsters. That said, sympathy's place was not on the battlefield, so she couldn't afford to coddle him and ease him into a fight. She knew that they would need everyone available if they were to emerge alive. It did kind of irk her that they had been planning to take on an unknown contingent of Dark Cultists on their own without warning other people, but she was mature enough to ignore that.

She took more steps back, the tan boots that she wore barely making a sound as she moved so slowly, her focus so immersed in the battlefield that she didn't have much time to check behind her. She would never forgive herself if she allowed herself to trip on something while walking backwards, even if she managed to survive despite making such a mistake. Her need to be careful and exact with her movements didn't leave her with much ability for speed in the backwards direction, and she didn't want the others to think she was running away in case they lost heart.

OoC: Not really sure if anyone else is still interested in trying to get this thing going again, but I am so here goes nothing.

---

Shrieking, the ghouls broke from their staggering steps and into full blown runs, throwing themselves at the gathered heroes whilst more ghouls lumbered out of from the half destroyed forest. Hissing and screaming, the undead creatures blindly launched into a series of mad swings, all acting in some sort of morbid synchronization with one another, completely aware of what its fellows were doing. A trio of the newly arrived ghouls charged for Gerard, Sabriel and Al'exja; jumping into the air as to pounce and pin their pray whilst a pair of other ghouls charged from behind.

Garin, the mighty Ork Berserker, and Zerez the Elf Paladin were encircled but a swarm of ever growing ghouls, forcing them back to back whilst the remaining half a dozen ghouls rushed headlong at the two Demon Hunters, Atra and Raven, with surprising speed and coordination for their kind. Meanwhile the Sentinel stood ever watchful it minions, the shadowy tendrils snaking around it whilst the Necromantic construct occasional buzzed orders for the ghouls to obey, swaying from from side to side slightly as it's mallet-like fists swung back and forth - dancing like an unholy pendulum as it acted in its role of puppet-master.

But the Sentinel too was nothing more than an elaborate puppet, a powerful one, yes, but still puppet dancing on the strings of its Necromancer master - and should the Necromancer fall, or the Sentinel's core become to heavily damaged then it would crumble like the rock and stone it was crafted from. If the heroes could unite against this mighty foe, and make use of the Paladin's Holy Aura to good effect, they could forge and opening to allow any of them to make a strike at the Sentinel's core and bring it down, though if they could not defeat the ghouls quickly then the Sentinel would have once again gathered enough power to be almost unstoppable.

But getting over the ghouls and making an attempt on the Sentinel would be easier said than done - as Gerard found out when he used his Tundra Stream to blast of the head of one of the ghouls assaulting him, showering himself in rotting flesh and chunks of chipped ice and bone; only for the ghouls shadow arm to retract, the mass of shadow sliding up to sit atop the undead fiend's rotting neck and reshape itself into a shadowy skull before roaring at Gerard and starting its assault anew.

"Oh that's just not fair!" Gerard declared, ducking under one of the ghoul's wild swings, cussing wildly as he stumbled away from his attacker. That should have worked! Without it's head a ghoul would just come apart as there was no way for the Necromancer to reanimate the limbs without the brain being intact... unless this necromancer hand worked out a way to get around that little hurdle. Think, man, there has to be something you're over looking here... and there was, he was just to busy trying to keep the ghouls at arms length to realise what.