Fractured

Raising his ax, which had been used to soften the door, Cronn grits his teeth and charges towards Belial, who appears to be shocked by the arrival of a dead man. Swiftly pulling a portion of the fungus that nearly cost him his hand from his pocket, Belial slips it into his mouth and swallows, moments before Cronn's ax will surely strike. Those in the great hall, who cannot see the events that continue to unfold within Achlys' chamber, hear only the ghastly shriek of a beast, unlike any others they have come across. Bellowing howls that follow rattle what windows The Keep has and fill the corridors, alerting more Nostrum to an unexpected attack. With more Purebloods filing in, the wall which separates them all from Achlys, Belial, and Cronn, bursts outwards, showering those who occupy the great hall with chunks of chiseled stone and dust. Several are injured by the sudden impacts, while others retreat to a safe distance; Awaiting the appearance of what could possibly cause so much damage with such ease. A violent howl emits from the forming cloud, followed by Cronn, who rolls out on his back before slamming against the legs of a bench and losing what grip remains on his ax.

"Get him out of there!" A member of the crowd commands, motioning towards Cronn.

"Brace yourselves!" Shouts another, who spots a beastly claw emerge moments before it slashes at more loose stone overhead. As the crumbling boulders fall to the ground, becoming indistinguishable from the rest, two Nostrum tend to Cronn. Having pulled him away from the chaos that continues to unfold.

"Protect the Convener!"

"Lay waste to that thing!"

A barrage of arrows and bullets, joined by the cries of war, soar through the air; Targeting the head of the beast, so as to avoid any risks towards the uncertain life belonging to Achlys. Grunts and wails tell them of successful contact being made, but it doesn't last. The Great Beast sweeps an open palm, breaching the threshold and tossing several Nostrum aside as its claws create sparks against the foundation, leaving behind deep carvings. As blood slaps against the faces of those who are left, an understanding of the inevitable washes over them. Yet, they do not attempt to flee. All that they have ever known is at risk. Their faith, their idolized figures, and their home is in the clutches of a monstrosity that seeks only violence. With this, many charge into the destruction ahead. Not caring if they die in their blind efforts to save what they can.

Watching a rallied cluster of ten or so Nostrum rush forward, shouting at the top of their lungs, Cronn attempts to stand but winces in pain. As the men and women disappear out of sight, he collects his ax and finds that he is being held down by two others.

"No, no, no. Stay here. You need to recover before you get back to the action." The one on the left pushes him down by the shoulder, whilst the other administers medical aid to a freshly formed wound across the small of his back. Feeling the familiar burning sensation of alcohol, he snatches the Nostrum that spoke to him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him in close.

"Leave me! Do not waste resources on the injured! Fight!"

The man, having surrendered his full attention at this point, gives a hard nod and leaps to his feet, sprinting to the front of the line with a hand-fashioned, bladed chain whip.

"You," He begins, looking towards the other now, "do the same. Give me a vial and move on. We need as much attention on the beast as we can muster!"

Doing as the first did, but more hesitantly, they too rush off towards the battle, one vial lighter. Cronn pulls himself up whilst applying pressure to his injury and sits at a bench, where he can cover himself from any incoming projectiles and sip at the vial. In doing so, he naturally tips his head upwards, where he spots someone traveling along a set of rafters. Squinting out of curiosity and concern, he assumes- based on what little he knows- who it is.

"Devough?" Picking himself up once more, he watches the woman continue on her way, heading towards where the beast and Nostrum are currently engaging one another. Upon reaching the area directly overhead, she begins to lose her balance, as an explosion causes the thing that was once Belial to become unsteady and slam into the wall. Stabilizing herself, she drops to her hands and knees, looking down on the carnage. Many Nostrum lay motionless on the ground, spread out over a great area, while others struggle to keep their morale, as the unwavering strength, dexterity, and stamina of the threat continues to outmatch theirs in every way.

"Bring it to its knees!" Shouts the one responsible for the explosion, who proceeds to reload the multi-barrel cannon strapped to his forearm as two others from the left and right corners of the room raise their own.

"Wait!" Cronn shouts, getting to his feet and raising an arm to each of the men. "Don't fire! Stop!" With his words failing to reach their ears over the sounds of conflict, he watches each send powder-fueled hollow iron towards the gnashing teeth of Belial, who now expects the incoming projectiles.

Swatting at one, it rolls up and off his palm, exploding no more than twenty feet away from where Devough remains hunkered. As the burst rings out shrapnel and debris fall to the floor. With the second burst, Belial squalls; Having taken the blow directly to one side of his head. As he staggers, the roof above begins to collapse and Devough slips off the rafter. Cronn feels a stabbing pain in his chest as he watches her free fall, but knows there is nothing he can do to save her. Still, he rushes towards her with a limp, fighting against his body's screams for him to stop. With the night sky now watching over them from a shattered ceiling, the Purebloods begin luring Belial away from where Achlys was last seen, giving others a chance to assist her in making an escape from the onslaught. Recognizing these efforts, Cronn gives a silent applaud for their collective assembly before continuing towards Devough. Who, to his surprise, is still alive.

"Devough, take my hand!" He pleads, watching her climb off a large chunk of debris with a limp of her own. As she does so, he pulls her in the direction of those who stepped away from the fight to sift for Achlys, shooing them off in the process. "Keep fighting! Do not stop until it falls!" Recognizing the area he had seen the Convener duck into, he attempts to push a bookcase aside but fails to move it on his own. Seeing this, Devough lends a hand, pushing it from the opposite end. Now sliding aside, it clatters against another, exposing Achlys' desk. Surprised that it remains intact, he moves to the internal side and checks beneath it. To his furthered disbelief, Achlys is exactly where he left her.

"Nostrum Cronn-"

"There's no time, come with us!" Offering a hand, as he did for Devough, the three of them climb over remnants of their history, being sure to remain in Belial's blind spot. Once they are back in the body of the great hall, Cronn pulls Achlys towards the kitchen's entrance. Armed with the knowledge of an exit at the farthest end, he beckons Devough to follow and allows Achlys to take the lead.

With Belial's raging screams behind them, echoing off the walls, they fully expect to be caught off guard by a stray attack, but to their greatest relief, they burst through the door without being harmed further. Achlys buckles over, resting her hands on her knees as she catches her breath, whilst Cronn checks their surroundings. Panting himself, but having mostly recovered from the sealing wound that now itches more than anything else, he steps away from the others. To the left, he finds nothing noteworthy, but at the right, something catches the eye. Through the darkness, right before falling snow thickens far too much to see beyond, he spots a mound of crumpled fabrics. Walking over to it with caution, he lights a small, portable lantern at his hip; Something he has neglected greatly in the past, for the heightened advantage of other light sources. With several feet of fresh powder now glowing orange, he examines the tied-off bundle more intently, seeking the opening. As he does so, Devough and Achlys both move in, noticing the interest he has taken.

"What have you found?" Achlys asks, not wanting to get any nearer than she must.

"I'm not sure." Crouching next to it, he begins picking away at the frost-covered binding but finds it to be too difficult with the use of his fingers and cuts it instead. Pulling it away, the fibers crackle as ice crystals shatter beneath his fingertips. Once It is fully removed, he looks to the others, who await his explanation. "It's Belial's belt." With this, Cronn tosses the leather away and pries the fabric apart. Once the contents are exposed, he leaps to his feet and turns back towards the others.

"What is it? What's-" Achlys, looking towards Cronn's feet, sees the bloodied face of Devough. With a gasp, she stumbles towards him in an odd manner; Reaching behind herself as she shifts about.

Cronn watches in disbelief as Achlys' back is turned towards him, exposing a piece of splintered wood that impales her. Once they are both standing before the cloaked figure, Achlys' legs grow too weak to hold her up and she slides down to her knees, planting them in the snow. Cronn, pulling his pistol from its holster and taking aim, watches the figure remove their hood. His head begins to spin as Yuler lets the lantern's light illuminate her face.