The battle begins in earnest as the leader shoots an intense bolt of magical light at me from his staff. Luckily for me, the baleful energy hits my enchanted armor at an angle and is deflected away, its white light dispersing into myriad colors. So far this hasn't gone at all as they planned, but I don't have time to admire the effects; I need to take the initiative here.

To that end I make a dive, sliding beneath another bolt of magical energy while slashing the swordstaff towards the axeman. He parries by crossing two axes, while one of the druids shoots at me with a blowpipe. The dart hits me, but the tough dire wolf fur I'm clad in protects me and it doesn't reach my skin. I smell familiar stinging aroma, indicating that the dart contained demonbane. This armor even with its design flaws is proving to be a life saver.

Despite that, a six against one (plus some firesupport) battle is starting to look too dangerous for my taste - compared to the adventurers earlier this group has both skill and twice the numbers. They haven't managed to harm me yet, but I'm forced to keep on the move all the time just to avoid being hit by various nasty attacks, and therefore can't find the time to overwhelm any one enemy.

Compared to keeping this on, flying away and leaving them cursing far below begins to sounds like a survivor's plan. I jump into air and attempt to gain distance as soon as possible, but my escape is ruined by the druid trio, who each shoot separate, smaller spells at me. One of them hits my wings with some kind of nasty sand spell, which grates the skin of my wings badly. With the folds tattered I start falling.

I have presence of mind to aim towards one of the druids below me. His new spell is interrupted when I fall on his head boots first, making a sick cracking sound on his neck. ... I'm not that heavy, okay, it's the gravity! I bounce up again by instinct, avoiding two more ranged attacks.

As I land again, the basket case woman is waiting for me, ready to toss something from her rickety containers. She really doesn't have any real weapons? I decide to impale her nevertheless, I don't particularly want to find out what she believes worth taking into battle against a demon. When I'm almost within reach, I have the questionable pleasure to find that out - she proceeded to throw a bunch of snakes at me. Snakes. Furious snakes.

Several miss me as my leap's parallel curve nears the ground, but at least three slam into me. As I hit the ground in disarray, one of them is biting my hand and another is getting inside my armor by slithering between my breasts. No, don't you dare! I hastily grab it, which might have been either a mistake or doomed attempt to avoid the inevitable. The distressed snake sinks its fangs deep into the soft tissue. I'll have to remember to punch that armorer who made the armor so low cut.

While I'm playing around with reptiles, the druids start hitting me with spells. My armor mitigates their effects somewhat, but a number of them hit me in uncovered areas, dealing moderate wounds. Well, at least the snake biting my arm gets hit too and bounces away dead. I finally tear the other snake out of my breast, and ended up ripping it in very painful ways. ...First the wolf and now snakes. Do all animals want me to suffer?

The axeman finally makes his move, throwing one of his axes towards my face. I block it with the swordstaff, but it's followed by another, aimed right at my fingers. It hits in a bit wrong angle and cuts my fingers to the bone, but not beyond. Through the hazing pain I'm now feeling I distantly conclude that his objective might have been removing my ring finger with the ring on it. Do they know it's the source of my swordstaff skill?

This is looking really bad. The snake woman is reloading by picking the scattered snakes. Some of the druids can't fire because axeman is blocking them, but he's the biggest threat with the huge bardiche in his back getting equipped. My reactions are slowed by poison and stinging spells, and the moment when he rises the axe with its huge blade seems to last forever.

I distantly note that it'd be nice to have some sure fire magic that kills enemies fast. Like ball of hellfire. How do you cast that anyway? Charm is a gesture and intent of inciting desire. I do a random gesture with intent of burning everyone. Of course it doesn't work. Celica just conjured and tossed a ball of it, there were no gestures.

Maybe it's more like a piece of the same malevolence that forms demons than a spell or incantation? A kind of soulfire? I give it a try. I concentrate as much as I can with spells flying at me and a blade of axe rapidly approaching me. A small ball of blue fire that gives impression of being very cold rather than very hot comes to be. Without a second thought I toss it at the axeman.

The ball erupts below his stomach, exploding in mist. His bardiche falls aside and as the fog that formed around him clears I can see his lower stomach and groin being covered in a layer of ice... no, not just layer, it was turned into ice. The effect doesn't look deep, but it looks beyond painful. There's a lull in the battle as slivers of frozen flesh and clothes previously from his groin area fall on the ground, shattering in to hundreds of tiny pieces. Ummm... My condolences? He starts screaming a feral high-pitched scream of agony.

I might have momentarily surprised them with my hellrime, but there's still four of them. Safely far away some townspeople cheer while others hold their groins in sympathy. I conjure another ball of absolute zero. If my theory of its source is correct, I better use it sparingly. I keep it in my snakebitten hand - it gives cool feeling that soothes the pain from spreading poison - while charging and swinging swordstaff one-handed.

I target the nasty snake woman, who is still chasing one of the snakes. She was too intent on her pets to react in time, and I splatter the ground with her life's blood. Druids A and B finally stop chanting spells at me; their power was dulled by my armor, but still further damaged me.

Their boss, who has been quietly muttering for a while, unsheathes a sword I didn't notice earlier. He moves his staff-hand over it and the blade bursts in flames. I deduce his earlier chants were all of buff variety. He's just starting to properly get dangerous, while I'm worn down and ready to kick the bucket soon.

All of the remaining three skirt around me in preparation to attack from different directions. They are clearly being careful of the arctic blue fire I have ready, and are unconsciously hesitant to approach me from the side closest to its radiating coldness. As they approach weapons ready, I prepare to make my last stand... is what they think. Instead I dash in the neglected direction with all the speed I can still muster.

They are surprised and give chase with slight delay, but my ball of coldness, which has been generating mist around me all the time, is now put to use as a fog bomb aimed behind me. The humidity in the air all around the spot I hit is turned into thick mist, and they lose sight of me.

As the improvised smokescreen clears, I have already disappeared into the crowd of people who let me pass and closed ranks after my passing.