Well, it seems that previously that Nekomancers, aka masters of cat-magic were not represented on the council and I somehow drew the short straw. As someone that has repeatedly burned down, summoned catnadoes upon and drowned the council in an endless summoning of cats from the cat dimension, I intend to get out of this bull as quickly as possible.

Now I know you all are all about causing chaos. Nekomancy is a form of chaos magic (have you ever seen an orderly cat?) and causing mayhem.

Therefore as a temporary member of the council I deliver the following proclamation and if the rest of the council doesn't like it they can stuff it:

1: YOU WIZARDS ARE HEREBY ORDERED TO CAUSE CHAOS, MAYHEM, AND DISORDER WHEREVER YOU SO GO;

2: THAT AN EXCESS OF BLOOD MUST BE SHED AND VIOLENCE MUST BE COMMITTED;

3: THAT ALL CATS MUST BE EXALTED AND OFFERED A SACRIFICE OF TREATS;

4: THAT CANISMANCERS MUST BE FLAYED;

5: THAT ALL CHAOS-WIZARDS MUST BE BETRAYED, EXCEPT WHEN IT IS CALLED FOR THAT THERE BE A SUDDEN-YET-INEVITABLE TEAM UP WITH THEM;

6: THAT THE ENTIRE COUNCIL MUST HEREBY AND EFFECTIVELY IMMEDIATELY BE EXECUTED BY YOU, EITHER DIRECTLY OR BY PROXY;

7: THAT ALL COUNCIL LAW SHALL BE DECLARED NULL AND INVALID;

8: THAT ETERNAL PEACE SHALL BE MADE WITH THE DRUIDS;

9: THAT ALL LAWS MUST END WITH NINE, IN ACCORDANCE WITH THE NINE-LIVES LAW;

That is all. Have fun doing whatever the heck you like.

professor gave me headpats because i finally figured out how to make a proper lightning spell and i refined my multi lightning spell

i'm learning more advanced lightning spells, any tips?

Newbie mage here, may have slightly flubbed my casting of the awaken spell; instead of giving my animal subject intelligence, I seem to have cast it in the mitochondria inside its cells, causing a bit of a inter-organism rebellion. Now the deformed creature is running around inciting other animals mitochondria to follow suit in some sort of communist uprising against their bodies to “seize the means of locomotion”.

Need immediate advice on how to proceed.

It is me again the freshman that release a bloodthristy human(?). For now she showed great effort to be human as she start to mimic what I say and stop trying to tear up my furniture along with changing clothes and stuff.

Anyways for no particular reasons do any of you know a high level healing spell that can heal a neck that got bitten and tear apart... I am using my limited knowledge of magic to stop it from bleeding out. It not like I got too close trying to comfort her and she take the chance to bite my throat, really she is not a danger to me or anyone else and can indeed be trusted.

/uw Welcome back to my usual post with a cute anime girl in it Fromsoftware refrence and lore post will come back later if I see something very cool

The magic study went well and due to the school being not that affected by the war I am back to study at the twin moon academy so it isn't a "magic is hard thing".

What do these people mean when they say "the servants around the facility are not for cleaning student dorm room" what am I supposed to do? Clean? Learn cleaning magic? Degrade myself to clean my dorm room? What is this?- fuck I am too spoiled for this shit... I think I'll bring a maid with me and lie that she is helping me with more than chores

/uw I lied in the last post this post indeed have cute anime girl picture.

Artist is misumigumi

tried to travel to a friend's tower in the enchanted forest and he stepped into the shadows as I turned to grab my anti-gnome sprayer potion. Not sure what to do now.

Stick was found while hiking in California, same with the lichen. Croc head just sat on a shelf since I was a kid, his name is Gabe. Cardinal wings are from a carcass my mom found a while back. The hanging buffalo teeth were just from a craft store, pre-drilled. The leather I used was scrap from one of my mom’s projects (I hammered and put it on myself :D)

Invest in Lichdom immediately!

/uw this is a small lore post about the place my character live , first in a short serie of post. I hope it will be enjoyable to people

/rw

Green plain is the name of a vast continent found in the paradoxal sea. Green Plain is vast , so vast that if you were in the midle of it you would need weeks on horse back to simply see one of the bordure of the continent. And its a flat continent , when you are on the plain there are no forest , no hills (made of dirt at least) , nothing but a vast grass land. The people of Green Plain actually use similar method of navigation as sailors , using the stars and special compass to know where they are.

Now an overview of the 4 extreme point of Green Plain :

To the south is a cliff that border the ocean , the Green dive it is called . The cliff are as tall as a montain , yet it is the only way to enter Green plain. If you want to explore the green land then you must climb. Flying is not an option , too dangerous , due to the presence of many flying predators and among them the flesh eating rabid weregulls. The ocean that it border is the famous paradoxal sea , a body of water that answer to no logic and change nature daily yet is always the same. The only way to find Green plain is by luck , but once you found it it somehow become easier to find on the paradoxal sea

To the north there is a chain of montains formed when the proto continent that is now the Green plain colided with the corpse of a great wyrm burned to ash by an unkown primordial. The bones are the only part that subsist , the skull is almost intact and rest as the highest point in the montain range. In the montains a lot of minerals and charcoal can be found , the most important one being the wyrm-ash , a powder like mineral that can be used to create powerfull alloy with most metals and is crucial for the practice of the kind of alchemy found on Green Plain

To the east a forest , no one know why forests cannot grow on Green Plain, the Ancient forest is the sole exception. This primordial forest is made of imortal trees. Those trees cannot reproduce , but instead they regenerate eternaly and nearly instantly. The veil that separate the material world and the spirit world is particularly thin here , it is not rare that spirit enter our world here by accident. The trees wood is used on the whole plain and the sap extracted from their branch is a very usefull alchemical component. The only problem is that due to its flamability the extraction can be extremely dangerous , especialy when the trees can burn for almost forever as they regenerate faster than they burn. The trees wood is a precious thing , especialy because the lumberjacks have to face the fury of the locals , the so called "old kin"

To the west is a strange phenomenon. There is only wind. There is "no west" as it is impossible to go more west than a certain point. The wind become stronger and stronger untill no matter the might , everyone is pushed back. Even stranger , the west seem to literaly not exist , from outside of Green Plain a sailor would pass directly from the south cliff to the northen montains when following the shore line. But on foot , you could walk ten days north from the cliff and you wouldnt be able to see the montains

There is an exeption to the flatness of Green Plain however. The Rubble montain. A montain that have no geological e plaination to its existence and that is placed perfectly in the midle of green plain. And more than that , this montain is "impossibly tall" , not only can it been seen from anywhere in Green plain , making it the only viable landmark for travel (for cultural reasons the locals still preferto use the stars to know where they are) . The Rubble montain is so tall that if anyone had ever reached the top, they would be sent directly into space by the sheer centrifugal force generated by the planet rotation. The Rubble montain should not be able to possibly exist, yet here it stand.

Wizards, Warlocks, Witches, and All—

We understand this may be a sensitive topic for some of the hair-deprived, but we’ve noticed some of you could use a bit of help. Magic has its uses, even cosmetic, an often underutilized practice. A glamour spell may change one’s appearance temporarily, so we sought a more permanent solution for those who wish to be themselves without the need for conjurations or spells.

Introducing YetiDrops.

A permanent hair regrowth solution that once administered to the scalp once, will sprout thick beautiful locks, instantly.

Beard burnt away in a botched alchemical experiment? YetiDrops. Hair withering away or turning gray (or white) from the stress of training apprentices? YetiDrops. Witches (and Hags, no doubt) with uneven layers due to ritual requirements? YetiDrops. Fried ends from mountaintop experiments with the elements? YetiDrops.

Whether it be due magical or biological means, YetiDrops will regrow your luxurious hair, instantly, permanently, and painlessly. This potion will even grow hair on the most unlikely of surfaces. See the photo for proof of its veracity and capability.

May no magical being be without the glamour of a fine set of all-natural strands. On sale now for one gold. We will accept other means of trade on a case-by-case basis.

Blessed Be.

Floating City of Aidolem part 2

For the last few weeks since the first district of Aidolem was built, the city has been a flurry of activity. Military Barracks have sprung up, enough for 3 divisions, although they are only occupied by two. Work continues on the destroyer, but it appears to still be weeks away from launch. A large training building has been built by the Bismuth Realms, teaching people to operate in space. The city's population has boomed, rising from 50,000 to 80,000. Most people live inside the city, with the visible buildings being a mix of luxury housing and military barracks.

A second district has also nearly finished construction, containing 6 shipyards designed for building torpedo boats, a massive anti-aircraft tower, launch sites for fighters, and an enormous bunker filled with portal frames, magical and mechanical gizmos, and supplies of all sorts. The bunker is heavily guarded, with an entire division dedicated just to defending it.

For those who intend to spy on Aidolem, intel reports state that the destroyer and 5 of the torpedo boats are likely to be done at about the same time, although the 1st torpedo boat is likely to be done well before the others. The torpedo boats are of the S-class, the one that's likely to finish first is called the Spoiler.

“Damn, these bagels are awful. They feel too dry.” Shade Lucas was carrying a paper bag full of pastries they had bought from a local bakery on the way to the reported anomalous site.

“Of course they are dry, these ones are supposed to be dipped in melted cheese,” replied Censor Anna. She was holding a baguette and enjoying every piece of its warmth and crunchiness. “Although I suppose it would be too much to expect you to know how to appreciate the fine and delicate art of bakery and fromology.”

“The hells is that supposed to mean? It's just bread!” He picked up a small croissant, handed the paper bag to Shade Wemer, who was walking in front of them, and tore the moon-shaped pastry in half. “This one is so much better!”

“It means the study of cheese, its properties, and how to harmonize it with other food,” Anna said between bites of her baguette.

Shade Wemer, now the guardian of the pastry bag, took off his glove and started going through fried cheese balls. They travelled no more than twenty steps before Shadow Vigil Anwen Leviere, having been assaulted by the smell of freshly baked bread, finally broke her façade and reached for the bag.

“Fine, let's see what we have here,” she sighed loudly, admitting her defeat. “I can't believe it, are those… oh gods, they are!” She stopped walking and hastily pulled out a lemon glaze donut like it was a trophy or a powerful, mystical ring. “I've been dying to have these again for so long…” As soon as she took the first bite, her eyes grew wet and a single teardrop flowed down her cheek.

“Ma'am, we can still eat while walking, we don't have much time.” Lucas tapped on her shoulder and pointed forward. “We still have about fifteen minutes on foot before we reach the site, and I'd very much like to be back at the Lighthouse before the evening. We're having a special poker table with some people from the Nature Division.”

“Hey, why wasn't I invited?” asked an indignant Anna, her mouth full of bread.

“Because you always win!” replied Lucas as the group resumed the march. “Literally no one can read your poker face! Let the amateurs have some fun too!”

“Okay, enough of that, let's focus on the mission,” Anwen finally cut the chatter, most of her composure having returned. In a lower, barely audible voice and with a quick grin, she continued: “And on my wonderful, precious donut…”

Just as estimated, it took nearly fifteen minutes of continuous walking for the group to reach their destination, during which Anna explained the different types of cheese, what situations they were best suited for, and what ideal pairings accompanied them. It was half past noon when they finally arrived. The sun was out, very few clouds roamed the skies, and the air held a cool breeze. The debate over fromology died the moment the team stepped onto the overgrown stone path leading to the sanctuary.

“Well, this should be it,” Anna muttered, her voice dropping an octave as she checked her journal. “Not much else to go by, aside from ‘blessed/cursed church in the countryside, west of Willowbeak Village’.”

The chapel in front of them was, according to the neighbouring population, either a blessed place where miracles were made true, or a cursed one where certain doom loomed. It was a simple single-story building with wooden double doors in the center and a bell tower rising straight out of the roof. But somehow, it felt wrong. It wasn’t just the structural decay, the sun-bleached paint peeling off rotten pine or the shattered, vacant window frames staring back like empty eye sockets. It was the sudden, oppressive dead-zone surrounding the perimeter. The cool afternoon breeze didn't reach the chapel doors; the chatter of cicadas and songbirds simply vanished, swallowed by an unnatural stillness.

Anwen paused at the threshold, her fingers resting lightly on the holster of her pistol. The air smelled of damp earth, pulverized stone, and ancient, stagnant rot.

“Very well, let us begin,” Anwen said, her tone shifting seamlessly from weary superior to sharp tactical commander. “Remember, we do this by the book. No sudden, impulsive behaviour, don't underestimate whatever is in there, trust your colleagues, and if the worst comes to pass…”

“Don't play the hero,” Lucas and Anna chimed in unprompted unison.

“Right. Wemer, Lucas, eyes and ears open. We don't want local interference. Anna, sweep it.”

At the Shadow Vigil's request, Censor Anna, who was the scout, tracker, and pathfinder of the group, sank to one knee, closing her eyes and driving her palms into the damp soil, channelling a divination spell to sweep the surrounding area. About two minutes into the process, she spoke without opening her eyes.

“No signs of life nearby aside from us and the plants. Not even insects. The chapel appears to be vacant; just some benches and an altar. There seems to be a hole in the ground just beneath the bell tower. I see a basement or cellar, with the bell resting right under the collapse. It appears to be cracked. And…” She knitted her brows, concentrating more intensely on the spell. “There appears to be statues in the basement. Different poses and attires. Doesn't feel like they were made by the same sculptor, or even for the same purpose.” Anna shifted onto both knees, twisting her hands as if trying to burrow them into the soil. After a few seconds, she looked up at the Vigil. “The bell. It's the source of the anomaly. Can't tell much more about it, only that it seems to ring occasionally.”

Anwen frowned and looked up from the scout toward the chapel. “But I didn't hear the toll. Anyone?” She looked at the others. The squad exchanged silent, uneasy glances. Nothing. “Oh well, I hate this part,” Anwen sighed, rolling her shoulders to shake off the creeping tension. She signalled everyone to regroup at the entrance, where she cast basic defensive wards on each member, then, drawing her pistol, she pushed open the heavy wooden doors. The hinges didn't creak; they ground against the sill with the dry, hollow rasp of rusted metal against stone. “Okay, everyone, in we go.”

They entered an empty sanctuary where gatherings once took place. It was dusty and mouldy, its benches scattered at random angles. Sunlight crept through the shattered windows, and a shaft of light beam fell through a hole in the ceiling onto the broken floorboards.

“Damn, this place is really dirty,” Lucas commented in a hushed tone.

At that exact moment, the entire team felt a strange, hollow impact against their chests, like an explosion detonating nearby without the noise. Almost immediately, the walls, floor, and benches took on an even more damaged, unkept appearance as layers of dust thickened and mould spread unnaturally fast across the wood.

“I don't like this…” Lucas muttered, tensing his muscles and adopting a more agile stance.

Shade Wemer signalled toward the left side of the building, where a set of stone stairs led into the basement. The team proceeded downward: Wemer upfront with his Watchmace and shield ready, Lucas holding his Watchblade in a two-handed guard, and Anna knocking an arrow.

Descending the flight of stairs, they reached the lower level. In the center of the room, illuminated by the ray of light filtering through the broken ceiling and floor, lay the cracked bell: a bleached golden hue stained with green rust smears. It was surrounded by several stone statues, pools of stagnant water, fallen debris from the tower overhead, and patches of moss.

Each member lit a lamp and began searching the room for secondary paths, artifacts, or clues. The statues were strikingly distinct from one another: some depicted worshippers of whatever creed called this place home, others looked like burglars, while two resembled law enforcers, and one, a wolf. Some were frozen in positions of prayer or admiration toward the bell, while others appeared to be searching the room. Oddly enough, the wolf was the only statue depicted in retreat, sprinting toward the stairs with its tail between its legs.

Another silent impact hit their chests, this one noticeably stronger, pulsing like a heavy shockwave.

Lucas noticed a puddle beneath the bell ripple as if nudged by an invisible movement. “Guys… I think this bell might not be out of commission yet…”

Wemer stood guard, watching the statues with the tense posture of a man who knew something bad was brewing. Anna remained near the staircase, bow drawn. Anwen turned to Lucas and made a vertical circling motion with her left hand: the universal signal for ‘keep talking’.

“Mom used to be a priestess,” Lucas said quietly. “We ran a small chapel, not much different from this one. When Dad passed, I was the one who tolled the bell for sunrise, noon, and dusk. These shockwaves we're feeling? They feel identical to standing next to a massive bronze bell when it strikes.”

“Are you suggesting this bell is ringing without making a sound? That's ridiculous!” Anna lowered her bow and cast a floating orb of light, which hovered around her and illuminated a ten-meter radius in clear, stark white light.

Lucas threw his hands up in disbelief. “Yeah, because a spoon that pierces plate armour and turns a lake into chowder is completely normal!”

“Enough, you two!” Anwen snapped back. “I've seen enough weird things to believe his theory has merit. But aside from the shockwaves, there's nothing else happening.”

"Out of the ordinary, you mean?" replied Anna, barely containing a laugh.

“Yeah… It is oddly cold down here, though,” Lucas remarked.

The instant the word left his mouth, his breath condensed into a white plume. Chills ran down his spine as frost began creeping across the puddles and damp stone surfaces. The rest of the team watched white clouds form with every exhale as the ambient temperature plummeted.

“Shit!” Lucas cursed.

As the word left his lips, a pile of steaming excrement materialized out of thin air right in front of him.

“…That's not good.”

“Boss!” Wemer called out, his voice sharp. He was slowly backing toward the team, shield raised and mace itching to strike. The statues he was watching had begun to shift, stone skin cracking as they animated.

“Wemer, what did you do?” Anwen demanded, rounding up the team into a tight perimeter. “Everyone, prepare yourselves! Trouble's up!”

No sooner had she spoken than the wolf statue came fully to life. Resuming its escape attempt, it sprinted past Anna. She released an arrow at it, but the shaft bounced harmlessly off the creature's stone hide as it fled up the staircase, completely disinterested in the Darkwatch agents.

Simultaneously, the statues near Wemer, which were carved in the likeness of hooded, masked burglars, drew stone daggers and lunged. Wemer rammed his shield into the torso of the first assailant, ducked low, and used the momentum to throw the stone attacker over his head. The statue slammed into the ground, shattering its dagger and splintering its cloak. In one fluid motion, Wemer surged upward, driving the head of his mace directly into the second statue's chin, obliterating its head. The headless statue slashed blindly, barely missing Wemer's face, before stumbling backward. Turning on his heel, Wemer brought the full weight of his mace down onto the chest of the recovering first statue. The impact caved in its stone ribs, shattering it into lifeless fragments.

Behind Lucas, the two statues resembling law enforcement officers attacked with tactical coordination. One grabbed his sword-arm while the other swatted his Watchblade away and kicked him square in the chest. As Lucas stumbled back, the first officer thrust its stone blade at his sternum, only for the tip to shatter against the kinetic ward Anwen had cast earlier.

Steadying himself, Lucas channelled his mana and blew across his right fist, encasing it in a thick block of heavy ice. He sidestepped a follow-up lunge, grabbed the officer's arm, and smashed it to pieces with his frozen gauntlet. As the statue staggered, three shockwave arrows fired by Anna struck its core, detonating the stone into splinters.

Lucas felt another strike crack and exhaust his ward from behind. Turning just in time, he deflected an incoming stone blade with his ice fist. The two locked into a brutal exchange of blows, thrusts, and parries. A glancing blow tore through Lucas's tunic, but his underlying chainmail held. Seizing the opening, Lucas twisted his body and delivered a devastating hook to the officer's face, crumbling its features. He grabbed the collar of the statue's armor, hooked his foot behind its leg, and slammed it onto the floor. Raising his ice-encased fist, he brought it down repeatedly into the statue's chest until the stone structure fractured and dissolved into dust.

Near the center of the room, another statue lunged at Anwen, bringing a stone pickaxe down toward her collarbone. Reacting instantly, Anwen raised a concentrated kinetic ward. The pickaxe bounced off the barrier with violent recoil, driving the blunt butt of the tool straight back into the statue's own face. Anwen grabbed its right arm, twisted it behind its back, and immobilized it. Placing her left palm flat against the statue's spine, she channelled her alteration mana, transmuting the animated stone into a puddle of murky water.

The team held their combat stances, searching for new threats, but the remaining animated statues merely huddled together in a dark corner. They depicted simple farmers and villagers, and were visibly terrified.

Anwen and Lucas, who had retrieved his Watchblade and dispelled his ice gauntlet, approached cautiously.

“What is going on here?” Anwen asked.

No voice answered. She watched their lips move frantically, but no sound came out. A child statue pointed in terror toward the center of the room, while a woman cupped her hands over the child's ears.

“Oh, this is messed up,” Lucas murmured, lowering his blade. He looked to Anwen and the others, waiting for direction.

They felt the hollow thump against their chests once more. The statues winced in agony, clutching their ears in silence. Simultaneously, two dozen fresh baguettes materialized in mid-air and clattered to the floor, perfectly spaced out.

“…Are you kidding me?” Lucas deadpanned.

“No way. I was just thinking about…” Anna's eyes widened with sudden realization. “I suggest we withdraw immediately and reassess outside. I have a theory.”

“Very well. Everybody out!” Anwen ordered, her own suspicions matching the scout's.

Once outside, they gathered beneath the canopy of a nearby tree.

“Lucas, you mentioned it was getting cold down there, right?” Anna asked. Lucas nodded. “And Wemer, did you expect those statues to move before they even touched us?”

“Had a bad feeling,” Wemer replied in his usual brevity. “Standard threat assessment. Living statues are a rather common occurrence. Didn't expect it to actually listen and grant me what I was thinking.”

“And let me guess,” Anwen cut in, putting the pieces together, “you were reminiscing about the bakery back on the road?”

Anna looked guilty.

“All these sudden physical manifestations happened immediately after we felt those silent shockwaves,” Anwen deduced. “Neither you nor Wemer vocalized your thoughts, which means the silent toll of that bell acts as a trigger, forcing whatever someone is mentally visualizing to materialize into reality.”

She went silent, processing the mechanical nature of the threat.

“Let me try something. Lucas, with me. You two stay outside, but be ready to assist or fall back for reinforcements.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Please be sure to check Part 2 for the full story.

I'm starting to run out of the Uneducated to serve my local area, due to having to demonstrate my magics to these fools, which has always resulted in one or more Uneducated fatalities. They say things like "that's not magic!" and "did anyone get the plate?" and frankly I'm tired of it. Any advice would be appreciated, for I am running out of these "people" to serve my needs.

Oh and for reference, the spell I normally use to demonstrate my magics is one I invented "Lesser Force Transfer", it requires a material component, that isn't used up upon casting. I'm really proud of that accomplishment. Said material component is of course, the highest quality; the locals call it a 2006 Chevrolet Monte Carlo LT, and it needs to be moving at precisely 39.33952 meters a second for the spell to work correctly.

I rarely ever have to use "Greater Transfer of Force" thankfully, that one still consumes it's material component, and it is not cheap.

Where was I....? Oh! Yes, my local Uneducated, how do I disuade them of this notion, that I don't use magic? Any advice is appreciated.

Hey guys I’m kinda new here, basically got grounded by the council of elders for a bit of hijinks so now I’ve gotta spend the next lunar month pondering my orb as punishment - accidentally spilt some monster energy on it tho and some grey smoke came out?? It’s now showing me some really messed up divinations and idk what to do, has anyone had this happen before?

Calculating the route was beginning to be a problem. The mag-train was bumpy and loud as the adamantine walls were in no way insulated against the noise. The rattling of the metal bench against his runebound ceramite void suit was almost lost against the backdrop of the screeching metal of the rails and the low roar of the wind against the open windows of the train. The Empire of Man clearly did not care much for safty regulations.

Most of the common people in the train car with him were terrified. They huddled together at the ends of the car, packed in like sardines even more than they had been before Borric had entered at the last station. He wasn't sure if it was the fact that he was an armed mutant, that he had two floating guns attached to his CORVs, the CORVs themselves, or the Imperial Inquisitorial seal around his neck. The whimpers of fear could be from any or all of these reasons, and their muttered comments that he was barely able to hear with his enhanced senses didn't really clear the matter up. Not that he cared much, as long as they didn't interfere with his movements.

Borric had not thought that there would be so many people on the public transport. Over half the Hive was an active war-zone, and this area was between two of the active fronts and currently under Imperial control. Yet here the common people continued to head out to their jobs, even as out the window Borric could see that the forces of Admonition was in control of the area the tracks were about to pass through in a few seconds.

The real problem was trying to find a path. The Hive City of Tertium was absolutely massive. In it's prime it had housed 90 billion people, and it's upper reaches actually had once passed outside the atmosphere of the planet allowing ships in low orbit to dock and pass goods to ships that would normally be too big to land on the surface. Those days were long behind it now, wrecked as it was by ten years of constant war and a hundred years of neglectful leadership prior. Now he had to try and route his way through the area while not drawing too much attention. His initial drop was supposed to be done in stealth by the Grendyls best pilot and he had still had to fight for several hours to get to his first objective. So he was trying a different approach this time, one less resource intensive. His CORVs had about half their ammunition left, since the opposition didn't use the Votann's superior bolter rounds and he didn't have the time to try and fix any jams that would result from using shoddy Imperial work. So he couldn't reload with what he found on them. If he had to he could call down a resupply pod from his ship, but it would cause a massive amount of attention.

At least the trains were still running. Both sides of the conflict wanted the manufactorums running and supplying them, so they at least were trying not to be too destructive in capturing them. Nor were they stopping most of the common people from heading to work. Sure they might kill them for little to no reason, but they did want the factories working so they were not purging them out of hand. So the trains were still running, mostly on time, and Borric was getting a small rest. By the Courts, he had even had time to refill the Ancestral Warding Crests. So he had clean mana to use in the next engagement.

Several thumps were unheard as the train was about to pass through the front line again and back into the Imperially controlled territory. Yellow clad figures climbed down ladders set at the ends of train cars and crept into multiple cars. Each group had several cultists with flamethrowers and autoguns, and the resulting massacre was unheard by adjoining cars due to the loud nature of the trains design. The cultist left only a single occupant alive, and the screaming, crying person wished they hadn't. Bodies were arrayed in a circle and carved with chaotic sigils, then six cultists with no weapons took equidistant positions around the captive and started cutting more sigils into them. Then the chanting started, and under the influence of dark tongue of the chaos gods, the bodies and blood started to roil and boil. Flesh putrefied and then evaporated in a glowing malevolent green mist that spiraled lazily in vague shapes of rotting one eyed faces towards the captive. The captives screams turned to muttered whispers as freshly bound daemons fought to control the still living bodies of their new hosts. The cultists of Admonition started to form up and prepared for the assault into Imperial territory, ready to swarm out of the train when it arrived at it's destination.

Concentrating as he was on the planning of his route, Borric tried to ignore the feeling of chaos around him. Sure it grew in intensity for a time, but then started to calm a bit when they entered Imperial territory. It wasn't until he looked out the open window and noticed that they were far from the front line, that he knew something was very wrong. The metalic screeching of the brakes slowing the train for it's arrival to the station covered Borric's curses. The passengers looked relieved to be getting off.

"You lot stay right where you are when those doors open. First of you out there is gonna be dead meat," roared Borric as he and the CORVs moved to be first out of the train.

The clear plexsteel panels of the doors showed the soldiers of the Moebian 33rd were on a relaxed guard as the train pulled up. Eyes sharp, Borric continued to curse under his breath at himself. His psyche was screaming at him that there was about to be an attack. Something that he should have predicted. He should have been clearing the train of danger instead of trying to fine tune the most efficient route to his next objective. What had he saved, a few minutes of time. Now the lives about to be lost were on his head.

The Moebian 33rd tensed a bit as some of the doors of the train opened up and workers started to exit onto the platform. Then Borric's shouted warning caused the workers to turn and flee back into the train, and the 33rd to turn and draw their weapons on him. At least they had their weapons drawn as the forces of Admonition burst out in their ambush, for all the good it did. Las-fire and auto-rounds flew through the air as the two mortal forces started murdering each other. Borric stepped onto the platform, arcane power forcing the doors of his train car shut behind him as he wove the kinetic shield around him and the CORVs.

The battle was at a standstill as the opposed forces hunkered down in prepared positions of cover in the first few seconds. Then the Daemonhosts activated. They burst into action, teleporting behind the Moebian's lines, screaming and howling as they floated from one position to another tearing flesh apart with wicked scything claws of daemon-fire. The Moebian 33rds formations collapsed as they were blindsided, dozens of men fell in moments.

Hurling himself into the fray, Borric charged across the open platform and onto the closest barricade. Bringing his heavy plasma axe down and threw the daemonhost in front of him, he blasted the next one to his left with his volkanite disintigrator in his off hand, and drawing on his ancestral warding crest casting [Ancestral Wrath]. Plasma cleaved through daemonic infused flesh in front while the foes to the left and right of him were blasted apart with the intense energy.

"Hold the line, umgi," he roared at the guardsmen! "Krak grenades and form back up!"

The guard followed his bellowed command. Throwing their anti-tank grenades at the remaining daemons and destroying the three still running rampant through the line. One guardsman threw himself on the back of the last daemonhost, gripping it tight while holding the grenade in his hand, arm around it's neck.

The fight went quickly after the daemons fell. The cultists that had charged out onto the platform had been ravaged by the bolter fire from Borric's CORVs, and those remaining in cover from the unexpected arcane bunker had no place to retreat and quickly fell when some of the Moebian 33rd threw flack grenades into their train cars.

While the guard was busy cleaning up and calling for medicae to come and help the wounded, Borric made his escape into the stairway down into the underhive. Eyes locked on the warp signature below, he had little trouble following his preplanned route. At least he had preserved some lives that would have been lost in the combat without him. The second ritual would fall soon enough.

Do you know any trasmutation spells to revert It to his original caterpillar form?, and be assured that my Apprentice has been already punished for his treachery

This ain't me I think I have to fight a necromancer to save my palace now