The Xeral stepped off the smoking corpse of the daemon, flexing his hand checking for damage. The creature had managed to mangle his gauntlet. Blood seeping through the cracks. Audible snaps and cracks signifying that his monstrous regeneration was already working on his injuries. Barring no more surprises, the rest of the creatures should be mopped up and this debacle of a night could be gotten over with.

He turned sharply looking at a patch some distance away. Burning lines started etching themselves in the short grass, a sudden conflagration of flames seared out. The air filled with the smell of burning flesh. When the smoke cleared. A hooded figure stepped out. Dressed in black from head to toe, a foul smell permeated the plains. The Xeral's nose crinkling in disgust as he yanked his hammer from the corpse, eyeing this new threat.

" The Vitor's reputation isn't unwarranted it seems" spoke a chorus of inhuman voices. It was as though the hood held more than one face inside.

" Are you the Summoner?" barked the Xeral. His hammer starting to glow slightly. His patience was wearing thin.

" Summoner" scoffed the voices "Such a crude term! spoken like a true primitive, Brute! We are an instrument. An instrument through which my Masters will reshape this rotting plane into something worthy of their adoption, I hope you have been thankful for their gifts"

"Great, another Nutcase," thought the Xeral. " Why did you attack us?" he asked.

" Do you truly not know?" mocked the voices. The hood bobbing up and down in exaggerated mirth. Webbed hands clutching its robe. " Why are you here with an army?"

" To claim a new leyline that showed up, or at least that's what the FarSought told the Prince," thought the Xeral. " Classified, Creature. That's on a need-to-know basis, and you don't need to exist," he said.

" Very scary Leonid" muttered the voices in apparent calm, " Save your empty threats, whatever reason you were told, well..... I assume that isn't the truth, the Farsought's sight was muddled"

The Xeral raised an eyebrow, no longer relaxed. Red trails of Vitrium lifted off his body as he took a battle stance. " What do you mean?" asked the Lion-man, his tone brooking no argument

" A Voyager is upon us " screeched the voices. " And my Masters claim him"

"Shit," thought the Xeral.

" Davian? Davian?" he thought, surprised he couldn't find an ounce of Th'um within him.

" Oh, by the way, Mind-speak won't work right now" mused the voices.

" Your pets have all but been slain, How do you think you're going to claim this Voyager for your Maggot Lords"

The hood turned, all pretense of friendliness gone. " Watch your tongue, fish bait!!. Those fools behind are you half dead and a quarter beaten into the ground. But your tongue will be my -"

A red gash split the sky from horizon to horizon, like a bloody eye of an uncaring primordial looking down on all below.