The wolf-man and Sulaiman circled each other for a moment before the wolf-man swung his outrageously long club again. Sulaiman moved backwards, out of the weapon's reach, but it meant that Sulaiman couldn't retaliate with his sword without opening himself up for reprisal. He had to use long ranged attacks if he wanted to avoid any more hits from that club and the magic that numbed his skin.

"Oh holy fire," Sulaiman began chanting to summon six motes of flame to send in a barrage and hopefully take out the wolf-man's vision, "pierce these–"

But the wolf-man darted forward, dropping his club to tackle Sulaiman mid-chant.

Sulaiman landed hard, the breath knocked out of him as his head snapped back against the ground and the magic he had collected dissipated. The wolf-man wasted no time pinning Sulaiman's shield down with his knee so Sulaiman's left arm was trapped with it.

The wolf-man grabbed Sulaiman's wrist and squeezed until Sulaiman was forced to let go of the sword, grinning all the while.

"Got you," the wolf-man taunted, leaning so far down that Sulaiman could smell his rank breath.

This was the worst situation Sulaiman could have found himself in and his mind raced to find a way to even the odds. Technically, he didn't need to chant to use magic, but without the chant to focus his intent, it was far more likely that the fire would go out of control and burn more than he wanted.

It wasn't the time to play it safe, however, not when death loomed above Sulaiman.

Gritting his teeth, Sulaiman let rage color the magical connection between him and the fire that surrounded his sword, leaching into still burning flames. The flames leapt from the sword like an eager dog, striking the stupid fucking wolf's pelt on the wolf-man's head and began greedily eating the fur and skin, the fire turning black tinged the more it ate.

The wolf-man growled and reached up to pull the burning pelt off, momentarily letting go of Sulaiman's wrist foolishly, as if he expected that just by pinning Sulaiman he had already won the battle.

Sulaiman saw that as his opportunity, and reached up, small flames appearing on his fingertips as he dragged his nails straight through the swirling mess of runes on the wolf-man's chest that he claimed enhanced his strength. Both the dried and flesh blood drawn from Sulaiman's nails caught fire and began to burn away the enhancement, leaving a trail of burned skin across the man's bare chest.

The wolf-man finished pulling off the wolf's pelt, revealing a sweaty mess of blonde hair and a long, thin scar across his forehead. His purple eyes narrowed dangerously, lip curled up in a pained sneer when he saw just what Sulaiman had done.

Quick as a whip, Sulaiman's wrist was roughly pinned to the ground again as the wolf-man growled, "You're such a fucking nuisance."

The wolf-man reared back his fist above Sulaiman's head. The moment before the punch connected, Sulaiman channeled some of his magic into the ground below his head to make it softer.

Then the fist hit Sulaiman's nose straight on, breaking it, but Sulaiman was only dazed instead of dead.

Blinking away reflexive tears and coughing out blood so it didn't choke him, Sulaiman bared his bloody teeth.

"Go fuck yourself, wolf boy," Sulaiman spat, focusing on controlling the flames to keep eating away at the runes.

That earned him another punch, but Sulaiman didn't let his grip on his magic slip. If he lost control, then the flames would burn up the wolf-man as surely as it did the bandit archers, and considering that Sulaiman was pinned beneath the man, he wasn't sure that he could stop the black flames before it burned him too.

The wolf-man punched Sulaiman again and something else cracked painfully, making Sulaiman's eye swell, but Sulaiman pushed the flames to burn faster and faster, moving upwards towards the wolf-man's throat and face in hopes the smoke might suffocate him. Sweat ran down the wolf-man's body as he grunted in pain, but he kept up the barrage as steadily as the fire burned away his power.

It would be a battle of wills, to see who would break first.

Sulaiman refused to let it be him.

…

"I am going to end your entire bloodline," the Raven hissed as she finished pushing herself to her feet, face twisted with venomous rage, "for daring to harm Her Gl–"

"Oh shut the fuck up you pansy ass sycophant," Priscilla snapped, though she kept most of her focus on The Starving One, who was wincing as she ran a finger down the side of her mouth. It looked like breathing fire had hurt The Starving One more than she thought it would.

"Maybe if you spent less time bitching, you'd have been able to stop me," Priscilla continued, her nervous energy coming out as trash talk, "but it's not my fault you're incompetent."

She couldn't feel her left hand, though she could see that it was clenched, but besides that, the rest of her body seemed to be okay for now. Priscilla just tried to keep herself ready for anything as a bead of sweat ran down her face as she watched her two opponents.

The Raven let out a noise like a boiling tea kettle and she clapped her hands together.

There was a tell-tale prickle of magic along Priscilla's knuckles as the gems on the back of the Raven's gloves glowed and pulsed with a dark light. Dark, rocky earth phased into existence over the gems surface, rapidly spreading over the gloves until both of the Raven's hands and forearms were encased in what looked like a combination of stone boxing gloves and bracers.

The Raven rushed forward, swinging wildly as she let out a battle cry.

That single movement told Priscilla everything she needed to know about the woman's unarmed close combat skills – more specifically, that this woman was a complete amateur based on the way she didn't keep her center of gravity over her hips, overextending herself as she leaned fully into the punch. That shepherd's hook the Raven had earlier had been her main weapon, but Priscilla's tactic of 'make your enemy so mad they abandon logic' was working splendidly.

Priscilla took advantage of the overextended limb, moving out of the way of the punch as she wrapped Asha around the Raven's now bulbous wrist and grabbed the Raven's shoulder with her numb hand to pull the Raven off balance. Priscilla forced the taller woman's arm to stay straight as she pushed it further down, right into Priscilla's rising knee.

There was a snap, pop, and tear as the Raven's elbow bent upward in an unnatural angle as the joint broke. Priscilla's knee stung from the impact, but she just grinned at how successful that move had been.

The Raven screeched in pain, fat tears rolling down her face as she fell to her knees.

Asha squeezing Priscilla's hand was the only warning she had of an incoming attack.

Without thinking, Priscilla dropped to her knees and grabbed the Raven by her hair, angling the taller woman between her and the line of fire that was now coming for Priscilla.

The Raven's agonized cries intensified as the blast hit her in the chest before the fire abruptly stopped, and then the Raven began to sob, her shoulders heaving.

"Careful playing with fire, missy," Priscilla muttered as she dragged the sobbing Raven to her feet to act as a human shield. The woman was swinging her good arm wildly at Priscilla, but Priscilla was able to dodge the weak, uncoordinated blows.

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If looks could kill, Priscilla would probably be dead several times over as The Starving One glared at Priscilla with hatred, the torn skin and blood making the expression all the more terrible, like a horror movie monster come to life.

The Starving One suddenly rushed forward with surprising speed, her fingernails lengthening into sharp spindly claws that were on a direct path for Priscilla's head.

There was barely enough time for Priscilla to react, throwing her head back to avoid the claws taking out her eyes.

Which brought Priscilla into the range of the Raven's wild punches, clocking Priscilla in the side of her jaw and making her teeth slam together painfully. Priscilla didn't even have enough time to swear as she let go of the Raven's hair and began to fall backwards, her chin aching.

The Starving One shot forward, the claws aimed directly towards Priscilla's heart as the woman bared her teeth in a savage grin.

That's when something strange happened.

The red armor that Priscilla had found in the back of the closet so long ago pulsed with sudden misty gray energy and glowed briefly. It rebuffed the razor sharp claws, sending The Starving One's arm reeling backwards from the backlash and sent Priscilla into the ground with a hard thud, knocking the wind out of her.

But Priscilla kept moving by using the momentum, rolling out of the way just in time to miss a glob of purple poison that splattered and hissed on the ground.

The Starving One growled, the noise beastly and hair-raising, and bared her teeth that were covered in a purple film. But it seemed The Starving One decided long-ranged attacks weren't working and stalked forward, crossing the distance the time it took Priscilla to blink.

The cannibal reared back her leg and kicked Priscilla in the stomach so hard that Priscilla skidded across the ground like a ragdoll, rolling over a few times before coming to a stop. It was like being hit by a car with how much force The Starving One put behind the blow.

There was no moving quickly out of the way this time, in fact Priscilla wasn't sure when she was going to be able to move.

Priscilla wheezed, coughing as she tried to catch her breath and couldn't. Her ribs hurt like a bitch, and were maybe even broken again. The numbness in her left arm had moved up into her shoulder, and that definitely wasn't good. Her neck was sore from the whiplash so she didn't want to move her head to check her surroundings, but Priscilla forced herself to.

Asha tried its best to soothe Priscilla's pain through their bond but that couldn't help much as The Starving One slowly walked forward, like a snake slithering in the grass towards a fallen chick.

Well, shit.

…

As Kavil finished pulling apart the knot on Illnyea's bindings, the girl's eyes were wide, head whipping back and forth across the camp with a horrified gaze.

Kavil followed her gaze and his stomach dropped as he understood why Illnyea looked so conflicted.

Priscilla and Sulaiman were both on the ground, and both looked like they were in deep, deep trouble, with The Starving One approaching Priscilla's prone form and Beowulf slamming his fist into Sulaiman's face like it was a punching bag.

Illnyea's eyes hardened and she grabbed Kavil by the shoulders to get his attention.

"Go distract the guy attacking Sulaiman," Illnyea ordered, her voice mostly determined though it wavered on Sulaiman's name, "and give him an opening to counter-attack. I'll go help Priscilla with the crazy lady, okay?"

Kavil blinked and nodded, and then Illnyea was off and running, a whirlwind just like her sister, silver hair whipping behind her.

There was no time to argue, not when Kavil heard the impact of Beowulf's fist against Sulaiman's flesh and Sulaiman let out a choked, wet groan, and another when the fist slammed down again.

A rare anger stirred within Kavil at that sound of pain was forced from Sulaiman, deep within Kavil's mind where the darkest parts of himself he didn't like to acknowledge lurked like a kraken in the ocean, tentacles now wrapping tight around what was Kavil's more rational brain.

Sulaiman had always kept his pain hidden like a wounded beast fearful of someone taking advantage of his weakness. Even when the hyena had bitten deep into his calf and cracked bone, Sulaiman had barely made a sound as he stoically stared at the blood flowing from the wound.

How dare Beowulf do that to Sulaiman, how dare he harm what was Kavil's to keep safe and whole, how dare he.

Kavil knew that he wasn't strong enough to physically move the man, but his mind settled on a plan of attack as he briefly glanced around him. It was a crappy plan, but all Kavil had to do was distract Beowulf long enough to give Sulaiman an opening and if it turned out that Beowulf died during the process, Kavil found that he didn't care nearly as much as he had a few minutes before.

He focused his magic on the remains of the 'tea' in the pot that he had served, ignoring how most of the followers were now writhing on the ground or had gone still with glazed over eyes, and then Kavil ran towards where Beowulf had Sulaiman pinned, skidding to a stop just two feet away, out of the tall cannibal's reach.

With focused effort, Kavil directed the poisonous brew to cover Beowulf's nose and mouth, surrounding the bottom half of his face.

Beowulf paused his beating, reaching up to claw at what was blocking his mouth and nose. His mouth was opened in rage when it didn't work and Kavil took the opportunity to force the poison down Beowulf's throat. The man coughed, but as the tea was smothering him, the man just sucked in more of the poisoned brew.

Beowulf's eyes went a little red as he continued to cough with no relief and he turned his murderous glare to Kavil.

Foreign magic entered the liquid and Kavil began to sweat as he began to battle Beowulf for control. Kavil wasn't really all that skilled with water magic, and had only begun using it in earnest since he began traveling with Priscilla and Sulaiman, but he couldn't just give up, not now, not ever.

Beowulf's distraction gave Sulaiman the opportunity to wrench his wrist out of Beowulf's grip. Sulaiman groped the ground next to him until he wrapped his fist around his sword's hilt. He was holding it backwards, but it seemed Sulaiman didn't care he wasn't holding it properly as he sank it into Beowulf's side, pushing so hard it came out the other side of the man's torso with a spray of blood.

Beowulf coughed again and blood mixed in with the poisoned tea, turning it an odd yellow tinged pink. He stopped trying to pull the water away and ominous purple sparks appeared in Beowulf's hands as he brought them down towards Sulaiman's face.

Kavil wasn't about to let Beowulf hurt Sulaiman any more.

Kavil lunged forward, wrapping his hands around Beowulf's bare elbow to pull the arm back as he braced his feet against Beowulf's legs. He cut off his magical connection to the brew, so it splashed down Beowulf's front as the man gasped for air.

Beowulf looked at Kavil in revulsed confusion as Kavil forced his magic into the large man, searching for the poison within the man's system. But soon outrage overtook confusion as Beowulf narrowed his eyes, rasping, "You little–"

Kavil stared the man in his dark purple eyes, oddly unafraid even as Beowulf twisted to reach for Kavil's neck with his other arm instead. Lightning crackled across every inch of Beowulf's skin, burning Kavil where he barely kept his grip on the much larger man, but Kavil was able to tune it all out as he focused on one simple fact.

Beowulf was going to die, even if Kavil didn't stop his heart now.

Based on the angle that Sulaiman's sword had penetrated, Beowulf's stomach and intestines had likely been torn and toxic waste was now spilling into the rest of the man's body. Gut wounds were some of the most lethal, difficult to heal even with magic.

Still, despite that simple fact, Kavil kept his grip tight and didn't pull away, because while a gut wound was fatal, it would leave Beowulf enough time alive to permanently damage Sulaiman's brain.

And that was something that Kavil refused to let pass, even if that meant Kavil was injured in Sulaiman's place. An injured neck was far easier to deal with than a brain injury.

Sulaiman's hand snaked up like lightning and grabbed Beowulf's wrist before he could reach Kavil's face, yanking the limb down as Kavil focused on keeping the other arm away from Sulaiman and pushing the poison through Beowulf's system faster and faster.

"Let go!" Beowulf growled and tried to pull away from Sulaiman by twisting his body, but Sulaiman held fast, fingernails digging in so deep it drew blood as Beowulf struggled.

Kavil could feel the moment that Beowulf's heart stopped, could feel the moment Beowulf lost grip on his magic and the electric shocks against Kavil's skin went erratic before abruptly fading, could feel the strength leave the man.

Beowulf took one last shuddering breath, staring right at Kavil with horror before Kavil pushed the poison to the man's brain, and the light faded from those vicious purple eyes that had looked over Kavil and declared him weak.

As Beowulf began to slump over, Kavil pushed the large man off Sulaiman, shoving his legs to the side to free his friend.

It was the first time that Kavil had a chance to take a good look at Sulaiman, and his breath caught, though he tried to hide how much it affected him by pressing his lips together.

Sulaiman's face was a bloody mess. His nose was badly broken as blood steadily leaked out, smeared across the entire lower half of his face and neck. Sulaiman's lips were split open as he panted, and his right eye was so swollen Kavil didn't think Sulaiman could see out of it. That was good, because then maybe Sulaiman wouldn't be able to see how Kavil's chin trembled in rage.

The dark part of Kavil regretted that he hadn't made Beowulf suffer more before he died, hadn't made the man pay for what he'd done to both Sulaiman and countless other innocents, but Kavil pushed that part of him back where it belonged (far enough away to be ignored and forgotten) and leaned forward, hands glowing as he planned to start healing Sulaiman's face.

"Later," Sulaiman croaked. "Help me up now."

Kavil swallowed back a sharp comment about Sulaiman being a bad patient and that healing his eye would help him while fighting. He decided to just help Sulaiman sit up, gently pulling him up so Sulaiman was no longer in danger of drowning in his own blood.

But before either of them could move further, a shockwave of oppressive magic burst through the camp.

Right from where Illnyea had just been running towards Priscilla.

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