Flandre looked down at the developing skirmish and, once again on that night, scowled in annoyance. In some respects, she would much rather have made common cause with the cultists and their devilish compatriots, but for her current task, she needed to be able to communicate with her temporary companions, and without a language in common that meant something simpler - and the simplest language she knew would only drive those cultists, dead, and monsters into a frenzy of combat. Their bestial opponents, however … from what she had been able to gather, they bowed to strength. She could communicate in the manner of beasts and lead them to her goal. Barbaric and dirty they may be, they represented her best chance. She took a deep breath - as did her clones across the city, reflexively emulating her worry - and plunged into the fray.
She dropped onto a human berserker as she swung a jagged blade against a stunned lizardman, crushing her body to the ground and sending the sword into a chain-wrapped warrior. Flandre ignored the stunned reaction to her arrival and spun, wings plunging into another crazed warrior before she tore the head off a cackling goblin. She darted under a rearing centaur, narrowly deflecting his wildly-swinging axe with a wing as she drove herself into a blood-spattered ogre's knee, shattering it and toppling the giant to the not-so-tender mercies of tattooed lizard-folk and grubby goblins. Again ignoring the shock of the colossal warrior's fall, she hurled herself for the last real threat - a burly, red, lizard-like demon that was laughingly engaged with the barbaric chieftain, a massive, heavily-scarred, one-eyed minotaur. As the demon caught the chieftain's huge axe in one hand and grinned wickedly, the tiny vampire grabbed his lower jaw and yanked it down. The demon howled in outrage as blood spurted from his overly-distended jaw, and the minotaur tore his axe free before driving it into the demon's shoulder, eliciting an enraged shriek of pain that was cut short as Flandre ducked into his mouth and began tearing his throat apart from the inside. Then the minotaur's axe crashed through the demon's skull and she tumbled lightly through the air, righting herself as the minotaur glared around him. The demon's mob, with its champions slain, no longer had the advantage against the greater numbers of the gutter-tribe, and Flandre lowered herself to land on the demon's corpse as the axe-wielding centaur trotted up to the chieftain. They held a short conference as the fighting died down, and the centaur walked forward to ask Flandre a question. She kept her eyes fixed on the chieftain, not that she could understand the half-man anyway. More strange utterances followed, in what seemed to be different languages, and the tribe gathered around the strange scene. The centaur - an advisor? - turned to say something to the chieftain, and he snarled angrily.
Flandre could understand what was going on - she was much too clean, too beautiful and well-dressed, to be one of them, yet she had thrown herself into their fight and turned the tide at a crucial moment, even saving the life of the chieftain. And now she wasn't responding to their questions. The minotaur roared and raised his axe, then brought it down on her. She forced herself to simply let him hit her, and Loki came through for her. The axe deflected off her magical protection and tore into the street. She smiled at the confusion on the centaur's face, at the fear and awe on the tribe's faces, and slowly stalked forward, then rose into the air to take the axe from the minotaur's barely-resisting grasp. She had to look ludicrous - the haft of the axe was as thick as her body - yet no one laughed as she took a few steps before swinging the axe horizontally into a pillar, embedding it in ancient stone. And then, with every eye staring at her, she began her pantomime, pointing at the minotaur, sweeping her arm to encompass the tribe, and patting her chest - they would follow her. She held up one finger and waved at the desolation - she wanted them for one fight. The tribe looked amongst itself; the chieftain and his advisor shared a look; and the minotaur tilted his head curiously. Finally, Flandre withdrew the totems of her enemy - a triangle that bore within it a maze-like design, the blue-and-white flags that had hung from one of their buildings, and the blue head that had belonged to a guard within that building. She held her breath, hoping that she had impressed them, that she understood the rules of this place well enough. The minotaur and the centaur shared a look. Then the minotaur walked forward and tore his axe from the pillar before raising it overhead and shrieking a warcry - one that was taken up by the gutter-tribe. Flandre finally allowed herself a grin.
The army grew slowly as it marched through the city; it was impossible to conceal it, of course, even by going through less-used routes, but they kept damage to a minimum, and others that shared the goals of the gutter-tribe joined them, eager for whatever was planned. Flandre smiled to herself; a small horde of goblins, numerous lizardfolk spearwielders, centaur archers and bladesmen, and humans carrying a variety of weapons. And the leaders - and a few spellcasters, of course. Druids and shamans of all species, carrying burning brands and charms that they touched to streets and walls. In all, her force had nearly doubled by the time she reached her destination … and then it doubled again as her clones brought their own armies to it. Minotaurs, goblins, ogres and giants, even more lizardfolk and humans, centaurs - the outcast army arrayed itself along gutter-tribe lines rather than any kind of real organization, and its target finally began to notice them. Knights, both human and blue-skinned, afoot and mounted, scurried into a phalanx, and alarms began sounding. The air began shimmering in places, evidence of the defenders' sorcery, and Flandre brought her clones into herself, glad for the energy they returned to her. Then she took out Laevateinn and began a steady walk across the immaculate courtyard of the half-blasted castle. For a long moment, she began to worry that her work had gone to nothing, and her army would melt away instead of giving her the opportunity she needed - but then she heard the splintering of stone and the howling warcries, and the courtyard began to shake as the gutter-tribes broke into a charge.
She kept pace with them easily, and was the first to plow into the phalanx of knights, Loki and Laevateinn alike sweeping aside thrusting lances and swords. With its front broken and her warriors swarming through it, she pressed on to the great gates of the castle. The great minotaur and a truly gargantuan giant had gotten there first, and the giant swept a great club into the gates - only for the weapon to shatter uselessly against ancient magic. She hurried to the side, drawing the confused attention of the minotaur, and leveled her weapon across the moat of air. The torrent of flames leaped across the air, punched through any magical protections, and began melting the very wall. She pointed at a free-standing column, then at the gap in front of her. The minotaur nodded and began directing the giant. Flan shuddered; it was now a race against time, for the castle's defenses were truly waking up - golems began rising from the courtyard, and sphinxes and flying knights began to congregate in the air above. Her army wasn't helpless against them - great torrents of flame, massive boulders, and simple exclamations of power all made the air a dangerous place to be - but she needed to enter the castle, needed her army inside to cause havoc so she could accomplish her mission.
The flames ended abruptly and the giant laid the columns across the gap - then led the charge across, slamming into the unbroken but now-unsupported wall and caving it in. The minotaur roared wildly even as defenders - soldiers, magicians, homunculi, and other things - began picking apart the assault force, and nearly a quarter of Flander's army forced itself into the castle and began a rampage of destruction. Archives and tools and experiments - all smashed or burned or otherwise ruined. She hoped Patchouli wasn't watching, if only because it would make interactions with the magician a little awkward in the future, and then slipped away from the fighting. She wouldn't be able to avoid triggering alarms, not where she was going and what she was doing, but with her own abilities and the fighting elsewhere, she should be able to get in and make her escape without too much trouble. She found the landmarks she had memorized, began tracing the path to her destination. Now, free from observation by her host, she fed lightly on those who crossed her path, thin-blooded though the blue-skinned creatures were. Eventually she reached the door she sought and smashed it in.
In the cell were two magic circles, and within each circle was a figure - the first held a young girl with long purple hair, the other a small, fiery sprite. Flandre rushed forward, but was repelled by the circles' magic, and the girl collapsed in despair. Flan took a deep breath and took out the two instruments she had kept safely hidden until now - a pair of signets featuring a six-legged spider-like outline with a single eye on its back. She pressed one signet to each of the circles, and their power faded. The vampire surged forward and caught the young girl in a crushing hug as the other occupant of the cell darted forward to console the girl as well.
"F-Flan? H-how -?" Flandre shook her head and adjusted her grip on the mage to carry her more easily. The girl's croaking voice made her furious, and she nearly sent her clones out on a killing spree … but that wasn't her goal. Escape was.
"Later, Lulu. Hang on, Agito. Did they take anything from you?" The mage held up her gloved hands and shook her head, and Flandre squeezed her tightly before taking off and flying dangerously quickly through the narrow hallways of the castle. The few inhabitants that crossed her path she simply rammed or tore apart with her wings, not willing to slow down to fight them properly, and very soon, only a single insubstantial barrier blocked their escape. Flandre floated cautiously and glared at the spectral figure that stood in front of the window she had planned to use. The figure stared at Flandre and at her burden as she bristled angrily.
"Flan?" The figure bowed and vanished without a word, and Flandre swept through the window, diving down as warriors on gryphons and rocs began arriving to aide the beleaguered castle.
"… He's the one who helped me. He found out where you were, how to reach you. I'm … pretty sure he wants to use me for something, but … well, what's important right now is getting you somewhere safe." She dove through the tangled city, looking for somewhere safe to let her friend rest for the remainder of the night.
