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[Ghazkull]

Logan grinned over his shoulder and winked at the Duchess.

Then he turned towards the young knight, bashing his axe twice in quick succession on his shield.

Come on lad, show me that that hammer is not just for compensation.

at that moment however the mage choose to have his moment. Logan lowered shield and axe. And winked at the Young Knight.

Oh well, let Talasam have his big moment, then you shall have yours. Hah.

[Ardas]

Valerian turned to look at the mage preparing his craft and lowered his weapon.

"As you wish my lord."

Valerian was ambiguous about magic. He had some notion that it was dangerous, but he never met many people who dabbled in it or experienced anything bad that would come from it. For now it seemed like harmless tricks.

[micelus]

Korolle had only arrived but half a month ago, during the end of the civil war. He had carefully recorded what information he could find on the civil war and had dutifully categorised it along Order regulations. He would send that and anything else he recorded back south in five years time. If he survived amongst these barbarians anyway.

They were a simply folk. Barbarians and feudals who had retained a sense of independent flair. And with that flair came savagery. He had witnessed the massacres and heavy fighting during the war. True, such evil could be found amongst the civilised, but it had always seemed more savage when a barbarian did it. Strange that.

Korolle honestly found little to love about their culture, but information was information and all had to be recorded. Including the food. And the entertainment. And the common gossip. Such was the Chronicler's duty.

He'd probably write about this mage's performance first; the Order archives had scant information on the capabilities of the northern mages.

[filiusenox]

[3] The fire begins to hiss and spit in its pit, before suddenly burning bright blue, long fingers of flame forming into the two brothers, each facing each other.  The detail is dulled, as if viewing a fire through an ice wall, twisting the two combatant’s likenesses into something more bestial and hungry.

[1] Then, the torches on the walls dim, fading to dull embers, and the two dueling princes attack one another, axe-blade clashing with sword and dagger. Then, the veil falls, and the two princes are revealed in stark horror, each gnashing, pointed teeth and fangs and claws, all the better to rip and tear at each other with. They drop their weapons, attacking each other like over-sized, bipedal dogs, biting and clawing at the other.
   The shadows on the floor contort into a similar battle, combatants once barely defined seeming to pull themselves up. Black blood is spilt on the floor, sizzling like burning acid, and [2] unlucky named men receive full face-fulls of the burning liquid. [1] The rest scramble back in disarray, tripping over themselves to hide under the tables, a brave few rally around the king.
   
[1-1] Talasam stutters out a word of dismissal, and fiery Logan hesitates, glancing towards the mage. That’s all Erid needs, lunging at him and dragging him towards the real Logan, towards the throne. They appear inches away from the King, slipping through his makeshift guard and sending many spiraling, fire licking at their clothing. [1] Blue flames begin to consume them, leaving many to try and pat themselves out, but the fire seems to only grow brighter and brighter, the king’s guards burning horribly, and many others turning and scrambling away.
   Then, with a sickening grin, black blood dripping down on the floor in front of the throne from those gnashing teeth playing with a lip, the fiery specter of Erid, smashes the bestial Logan’s skull into the throne, over and over again. The details sharpen, bestial features shifting, until the king is watching a twin’s head be reduced to nothing but a bloody, mangled mess of bone and brain and other, unsavory things.
   Long, curling fingers of fire reach out, and the king doesn't even flinch as they’re stroked over his cheekbone. A coldness lingers, the flesh underneath the soft fingers going numb, “Sweet, sweet brother…I missed you while I was gone.”  its voice hisses, everywhere and nowhere at once, “Why did you have to cheat, dear brother…? I was ready to bow before you, but you killed me so cruelly…”
   
   [2] The specter doesn't seem to be going anywhere soon, and it only seems to grow in detail, the shadow armies features starting to sharpen as well, their hollow eyes glancing towards the other people in the room more and more.

"...I HUNGER, dear brother..."

[Shootandrun]

Jarod had been drinking lightly when it happened.

He had been relatively satisfied with the feast. He was placed amongst the minor lords, a considerable honor for a priest - even an Holy Knight - but he was too far from the King to actually do anything. If he had been nearer, he might have been able to pass a few comments, or at least hear the King's words to his councilor, but from where he was, he stood powerless. Still, it was a good start, and he had been planning to use it somehow - he was considering blessing the King's rule before the assembly, but eventually reconsidered it. He was not one of the first, to bless and pray for anything else than a good fight, and anyway he did not know any fitting verses. All the prayers he knew involved going into battle somehow, and they may have seemed inappropriate, on the morrow of a civil war.

He frowned and nearly completely stopped drinking when the mage was mentioned. He was a particularly progressive priest - firmly against the burning of mages before it was proved that they had performed or risked performing any kind of evil magic. Of course, that did not mean he approved. There was a fine line tolerating mages and accepting one in the King's court. Of course, he was not the King, and as such he remained silent - it was not his place to publicly oppose the ruler's will. Still, he made sure he would not get drunk for the night. With mages about, a Holy Knight had best keep his senses around him.

As such, when it happened, he had only been drinking lightly, and his reaction time was significantly better than that of the minor lords around him.

With reflexes earned on the battlefield as well as in the darkest streets, the priest - no, the knight - jumped on his feet and onto the table before taking his sword, as soon as he realized the spell was starting to go wrong. He shouted something that all men around the hall knew - it was a Battle Chant of the Third.

"When Blood flows and Steel sings, the men of the Third dance! To arms, brothers! Dark magic in the King's court!"

And with that, he jumped towards the specter.

[Charisma] Incite the soldiers of the hall to attack the specter. [Swordsmanship] Attack the specter.

[Ghazkull]

Logen didn't flinch before the beast, shifting into a fighting stance his knuckles white around the Axe-Shaft.

Gods have mercy mage, if that is some sick joke, now is the time to end it. Valerian, if you want to prove yourself now is your chance.

then finally Logen scowled into the beasts face. In reality Logen was feeling sick and wanted to be somewhere else...somewhere far away.

Fuck Brother, you have gone ugly.

With that he charged roaring at the monstrosity.

Charge at the Appariton (Axemastery +1) if the mage fails to banish it

[Ardas]

The young knight didn't wait long before hearing his lord's call, although still bewildered by the magic run awry.

"At once, my king. This apparition shall bother you no longer."

He took a battle stance and crossed the distance dividing him from the apparition in one smooth move, while dropping his hammer at the abomination.

Attack the specter with my hammer. (+1) (agility +1 if it counts)

[adwarf]

Talasam froze in horror for a few moments before yelling,

"Protect the King, keep from engaging the specter yourself for its strengths are unknown!"

With that he reached up an drew his sword from its scabbard, the peace bonding on it having been broken and made to look whole, with it in hand Talasam charged the specter trying to put himself between it and the King. Reaching for magic again, though this time a much smaller version as he took the stopper from his wineskin and willed the water inside to come forth and become an icicle flying at the specter.

Charge the Specter and put myself between it and the King. Use magic to launch a icicle at the specters head. (Swordmastery +1)

[Taricus]

Raoul had been enjoying the feast. Had being the keyword. While most of the others jeered and laughed at him for not being a true warrior (Or indeed, not being a warrior at all), a few choice words were able to placate or silence them. The food itself wasn't that bad, though the methods they cooked the meat was barbaric in his own opinion.

Then the specters came, and the fires went out. Raoul's first instinct was primitive and rather crude, but in this case, it would prove to be vastly effective.

He bolted towards the door, intent on fleeing the king's keep

RUN AWAY!

[Dwarmin]

Araline scowled as she rolled away from her comfortable seat, patting a clingy piece of blue fire before it could light her tunic on fire.

She certainly didn't predict this.

The black handed murderer King and all his merry men (and maybe one woman) being eaten by the vengeful ghost of a slain brother on inauguration night? The Bards would be writing about this for a thousand years.

Shrrrrring
 
She drew the slim rapier blade hidden in her eaglehead cane quickly with a smooth ring, intent on doing something about this mess. Be damned if she would run away now...a sword wasn't likely to be useful though, not in her hands, but it felt better to have it all the same. Time to think this through.

This thing was made of pure fire. Throwing buckets of water and mountain-shaved ice at the creature was her first instinct, but magic fire was different than regular fire. It might not matter.

Her second instinct was to, of course, kill the Wizard by stabbing him in the back through the heart-perhaps by his death, severing whatever magic he had used. But he also might be the only one who could stop it...decisions, decisions.

"Kinsmen, to arms-servants, armsmen-fetch cold water and ice! Perhaps we can douse this appartion's flames!"

Action: Try to rally my servants, vassals and armsmen to attempt to douse the spirit with buckets of water and ice. At least keep the hall and the diners therein from burning up or down.

Also, hang back and try to gauge how effective our weapons are against it.

[filiusenox]

[1][1][2] The sound of a battlefield not of this world suddenly filters in with a resounding cry, the shadows suddenly attacking the people and guests in the hall. Blades and claws and teeth of  darkness arc through the air as the beasts begin their assault in earnest.

"FEAST, MY KIN."

"When Blood flows and Steel sings, the men of the Third dance! To arms, brothers! Dark magic in the King's court!"
[Charisma] Incite the soldiers of the hall to attack the specter.

[2+1] What would of surely been a slaughter is suddenly turned into a even battle as Jarod calls out and rallies the scattered Named Men and Carls in the hall. Some of them, who didn’t think to bring blades to the party, snatch up tankards or benches and fight back, a few smart souls flee from it with their tails between their legs.

RUN AWAY!

[6] When danger reared it’s ugly head, sir Raoul, bravely turned his tail and fled. Pushing the door open and bolting out into the better lit night like a bat out of hell. [1] And, as soon as he nears the stable, he’s clothes-lined by the thick, metal-armored arm of a guard. Before being roughly hauled to his feet by his collar. [1] As his vision slowly begins to tunnel with black from the force of the blow, or rather, his speed upon impacting solid steel plate, he’s hauled up to view a rather ugly looking mug of a palace/hall guard.
[3] However, a sharp slap from a gauntleted hand  keeps him from passing out. The smell of alchohol assaults your nostrils, farther jarring you awake, “Where…d’ya think…ya’ll goin’…in such a hurry…”

"When Blood flows and Steel sings, the men of the Third dance! To arms, brothers! Dark magic in the King's court!"
[Swordsmanship] Attack the specter.

[3+1] vs. [4]
Jarod, after singing his battle-hymn, lunges at Erid, sword swinging down in a sharp arc. With a graceful whirl and impossible strength, the beast lifts the specter corpse of Logan up, blocking the blow. He growls at the attack and the impact into the soft flame-matter of the dead specter numbs Jarod’s hands.
   

[1] The dead fire-specter Logan shifts, a single eye- still hanging from an optic nerve - swivels towards Jarod, and what’s left of the face turns up in a twisted grin. Erid drops the now filled with life specter and turns his attention back to the King.

[Jarod is now fighting Logan’s Mutilated Specter!]

[6+1]vs.[2]
Jarod dodges back from a clumsy swipe of over-elongated claws, retaliating with a blow that removes an arm at the shoulder, dropping it to the floor, where it quickly becomes nothing more than a scattered pile of ash. [6] Warmth fills Jarod’s hands as he moves them, the numbness rapidly fading…to be replaced with slightly blackening skin at the tips of his fingers.

[1+1] vs. [4]
The other clawed hand swipes up, slashing Jarod across the face. The flesh blackens around the claw mark, numbness setting in a moment too late to hide the lash of pain…and fear that wracks the Knight. Blood begins to drip a moment too late as well.

[1+1] vs. [2]
The knight blocks a blow that would have been deadly a moment before it impacts, kicking the Mutilated Spectre to get it out of his guard.

[1+1] vs. [6]
The claws rip through Jarod’s armor like tissue paper, almost disemboweling him. [3] The pain and fear once more impacts him, and through gritted teeth he whispers a weak hymn. The pain and unnatural fear fades enough for you to lunge toward the creature in a final, do or die, attack.

[6+1] vs. [1]
With a final deft slash, your sword cuts through the creature's neck, black blood splattering over the floor. [1] It’s lifeless corpse turns to ash before Jarod‘s eyes, but a creeping coldness drifts over him. The sword falls from his hands, its edge hissing with the black blood, and he falls to his knees. Unconsciousness follows moments later.

Charge at the Appariton (Axemastery +1) if the mage fails to banish it

[4+1] vs. [3-1]
Just as the specter Erid turns towards back towards the king, the axe comes down hard, cleaving into the creatures shoulder, down to its spiny chest, splattering black blood over the floor. The creature hisses and spits, jumping back and cradling it’s wound.
   [4] The black blood sizzles on the cold steel, hissing much like the creature it came from. Unlike the stones, however, it isn’t pockmarked by the apparently acidic blood…
   Why is fire bleeding…

Attack the specter with my hammer. (+1) (agility +1 if it counts)

[6+1] vs. [5]
With a sickening thud, Valerian’s hammer impacts the spiny flesh, crunching bone and flesh. The force slams the creature back towards the King, as well as staggering it, and rendering…a non-too-friendly looking bit of anatomy permanently useless.  Verid screams in pain, turning around sharply to face Valerian, who’s hands go numb, either from the force of the impact or from something else.

Charge the Specter and put myself between it and the King. Use magic to launch a icicle at the specters head. (Swordmastery +1)

[3][1][3]
The mage is promptly ignored as he draws out a water-skin and forms it rapidly into a thick, pointed icicle. The ice impacts the fire-specter with a strangely material slish, jamming into its flesh and coming out the other side.
   [1]A sharp hiss of breath comes from the beast, before a wry smile crosses what it has for features. The ice rapidly begins to form into a sort of carapace, spreading over the creature. The air gets drier and drier…until Talasam quickly retracts his command. The armor fades rapidly, melting and falling to the ground.

[6+1] vs. [1]
Talasam draws his sword, lunging towards the beast, swinging it in an overhand arc. The steel impacts something very physical, digging deep into it’s lack of a neck. It’s softer, than human flesh, but your fingers go numb at the contact, even through the blade.
   With a sickening slish, the creature’s head falls to the floor, real, black blood spewing over the floor, pockmarking it. Fire begins to lick at the flesh, and soon it’s burned away, leaving ash in the shape of the fallen corpse.

Action: Try to rally my servants, vassals and armsmen to attempt to douse the spirit with buckets of water and ice. At least keep the hall and the diners therein from burning up or down.

Also, hang back and try to gauge how effective our weapons are against it.

[5+1] The creature falls before the armsmen and vassels can rouse themselves enough to try and douse the creature in water, but, when they finally do get back, the blue flames in the cooking pit rear up once more, streaking over the floor towards the ashes. A sudden splash of water turns the flame to ice.

[3+1] Normal weapons seem to work quite well on the creatures. But, you notice that the blades of several people’s swords, axes, and spears, upon impacting the creatures, and upon being bloodied, catch fire with the same sort of blue flame that the creature came from.


[2+1] The shadow army  lingers for a few moments, dealing a few deathblows, before slowly fading. Then the room is plunged into darkness…and silence.

[13] A number of corpses litter the floor, mostly of free and named men. A well named warrior lays in a pool of blood, the shadow army that apparently surrounded him having eviscerated and started to EAT him. His sword is still aflame with the blue fire.

[13+1] A number of others lay wounded, blood dripping from their wounds, which each bear black flesh around the cuts and marks. A number are bleeding to death, and will continue to do so if medical attention is not found; Jarod is among this number.

[4] Of these injured lay huddled in a fetal position, whimpering, eyes wild, oblivious to the marks they bear on their flesh, some of which are still grievously bleeding.

[adwarf]

Talasam looked at the wounded around the room, looked at the lifeless eyes of so many of the dead, and replaced his sword into its sheath before turning towards the King and speaking aloud,

"This was not my intention, do with me as you wish but know I did not do this on purpose, I will not prove to people they should fear mages by fleeing so give me your judgement when you wish."

With that Talasam took a look of solid determination and stared into the darkness waiting for whatever was to come, no one would want his help nor would they welcome it now that this had happened.

[Taricus]

"A MAGE SUMMONED DEMONS IN THE GREAT HALL, THERE ISN'T MUCH TIME BEFORE HE GETS AWAY!" Raoul yelled, his voice in a panic.

[Ghazkull]

Logan was breathing hard staring over the feast turned slaughterfest. It takes a moment for him to take everything in.

Get Cutters in here! Put the Flames out! get whatever cloth is available and staunch those wounds. Valerian get some Cutters.

And you mage...

The Kings piercing gaze comes to rest on Talasam. His scowl deepens even more a broad snarl on his face. With a swing his fist connects with the wizards jaw.

Guards! arrest that fucken bastard and bring him down to the interrogation chambers. Make sure to chain him with steel chains. and gag him i dont want him to do any more damage. You there! Valerian make sure that that little bastard doesn't get away.

Finally he turned to where Jarod fell. ripping a piece of his expensive new clothes he starts bandaging the fallen knight.

Come on, your gonna make it...just some scratches...i've survived worse.

Almost annoyed he slaps the Knight of the Third in the Face bringing him back into consciousness


Logan orders the servants to use all teh cloth they can get to staunch the wounds of the wounded and calls for Cutters to deal with the wounds.
He also orders his guards to arrest Talasam, chain him in steel chains and gag him.

[Ardas]

The knight lowered his hammer as heard the royal commands. The place was a mess, but he was still on adrenaline, focused and attentive.
"Cutters, at ones my lord. Artis, where are you? bring in servants, cloth and someone to look at the wounded!"

He then swiftly crossed the chamber to reach the mage, and with a steely grip on his shoulder held him on the spot.
"You aren't going anywhere. You heard His Majesty. You better not resist. Guards, to me! His majesty wishes to have this man taken to his "chambers".
Valerian did not hesitate to pick up a piece of dirty cloth from one of the tables and stuffed it down Talasam's mouth before he began protesting. Still with a steely grip on his shoulder and a pair of soldiers following him, he took the man out of the chamber.

Valerian carries out the royal order and arrests Talasam and takes him to the dungeon, bound and gagged. He also tells his servant to help out with the wounded.