Strange Grace
Thirteenth Day of the Twelfth Month 293 AC
The Shadow of Old Sarnor, Plane of Shadow
The Thrice-Forged Bloom burned upon the threshold of the temple, her flames shifting wildly from the oranges and reds of battle to the gold of contemplation. She could not hear the Dark Goddess' gloating her mortal companions could, for her soul was guarded against unwelcome communions of the Powers, but she could see the stone coils shifting, the dragons slithering from the shadows.
"Light! They don't fight well in it!" she called out the the red robed priest.
The corpse stitched horrors we brought with us probably don't either, Bloom was unpleasantly reminded, but she pushed the thought aside. They had no minds to suffer or revel in the suffering of others, only macabre tools in the hands of her allies.
Benerro had not needed her encouragement, as the dragons half leapt half flew the last few yards, deadly vapors spilling from their maws, the light of R'hlor the Red burned back the shadows, as clear and unwavering as the noonday sun. That was not the only light that erupted forth. Walls of arcane powers blunted the arcane smoke that would have sapped the life from them down to nothing. Zherys, Anu, and Wyla all casting shattering shield charms for the task.
"The barriers will not last long if they start tearing at them," one of the pair of Erynyes that had flown in with them said, her bow steady, the nocked arrow never wavering.
"They don't have to," the pale lady of Naath said, some spell of death or ruin upon her lips. Bloom spun fire and molten stone between her fingers ready to do her own part, but the dragons did not break
through the barrier.
The shadows all around them came alive with tooth and claw and lashing tail, and for one terrible moment among the pain and confusion it seemed as though there were not three dragons but a dozen, all taunting them with hissing whispers, until the devil,
Reilith that was her name, Bloom recalled, spoke without voice again,
"Warding glamors, look through..."
Even as arrow after arrow flew from the devils' bows, some to strike true, others to shatter against iron hard scales, Bloom invoked the power of the small golden earring she had received from the king among many other works of artifice.
Now she could see them... The dragons seemed to have decided of common cause that they would have to deal with the Erinyes first, perhaps not realizing that all of them could see though shadow and trickery, at least for the span of one battle.
Bloom rushed under one of the dragons, practically pressing the handful of flames into his face rather than throwing it.
Why did its eyes burn amethyst like the flames in the idol's eyes? The thought was gone almost as quickly as it had arisen. The baatezu were almost as skilled with blade as they were with bow, and they were resilient as only veterans of the First War could be, but against three dragons empowered by their own magics and the dark blessings of this place, they did not fare well. One was bleeding profusely from her side and the other had a wing torn off and flung aside.
Bloom reached out with her other hand, this one glowing with the golden light of healing, as she pressed it to the warrior's back. An expression of gratitude flashed over Reilith's face for a moment. Then a grim nod of understanding that Bloom found herself returning without thought. There was work yet to be done here.
OOC: A bit short again but it's getting really late for me. For anyone that is wondering the mages are still casting on the second round it's just that Bloom is not in position to see them as she rushes to heal the back line. Not yet edited.
