Moments after the sixteen had gone to try and strike the last hit on Loimos, the king of Tamaris is standing within his throne room.
Within the royal castle, most of the valiant guards and soldiers typically scouring the halls and palisades were fighting on the front, leaving only a reduced force close to the king, Agilulf Wanneck had decided to trust his generals and commandant with the safety of the barrier, he remained within his palace, using miniature golems similar to those employed to spectate the duel between the two champions, he overlooked the progress of the dead, and the failures of the living.
Knowing that there was not much to be done, he could only lower his head and hope for the best, the greater majority of his forces had gone to face dire challenges and tribulations, Syklon had left just a little while ago alongside Ohrn, her disciples having been dispatched to a front already, around the king, Fioldron Ferrcrona was impatiently waiting for a good reason to join the fighting, shaking with expectation and fear, of both the enemy and what would have to be done to stand before them.
There were also the three that had ties to the two heroes, he did not know much about them, but they were ready to fight for life and that was all that mattered in these treacherous times, Agilulf Wanneck had already been betrayed by the Fin-Limiers, losing the strength of The Death Dealer was a serious blow to his plans.
All followers of Phanes, all death hunters, all had gone to face the undead tides head-on, even the talent holders that were not proficient in combat had gone to provide whatever assistance, the halls of the palace were silent and drowned with darkness, the light put up not helping much, he could see it, he could feel it, the dark was growing deeper, its influence expanding with every second, the light that could once hold it at bay were being consumed, deprived of their shine.
Looking over at his contemporary, Agilulf Wanneck knew that the only reason the iron king had not gone off and thrown himself into a hell of pain was because his daughter was right over there, well, the merchant king could not know for certain if that was the case, but he did have eyes and the tool of pattern recognition within his arsenal, they looked exactly the same.
Except for himself, everyone was sitting on the ground, back against the wall or a pillar, no matter how well they tried to hide it, everyone was nervous, their lives were on the line after all.
A most gentle hand came upon the king's shoulder.
"My king, shall I enact another luck rite?" this awfully pleasant tone never failed to give him goosebumps, always sounding much closer than she was, like her mouth was right up to the air, lips brushing up against.
A truly terrible sensation, but Agilulf Wanneck did not show it.
"Everything that can help is welcome, Miss Milanit" he responded, turning toward this woman.
Lunate stood up from spot, walking with perfect casualness, no one noticed her moving, even amidst this permeating dark and silence, unsheathing her blade like it was the most natural thing, moving up to her father, plunging the rapier into his chest.
In the same instant, the delicate hand was thrust through the king's back, slithering in between the bones, but finding itself stuck before being capable of grasping onto anything of substance, and before this could be resolved, two feet crashed onto the attacker's face, a tree suddenly erupting and shoving Lunate away from where she stood.
"What the hell just happened?" Yuhu, the rabbitfolk questioned after dropkicking the hell out of Milanit, one second the latter had been speaking soft words, the other she was trying to wriggle out some of the king's organs.
"Lunate?" Fioldron Ferrcrona stood up, a rapier stuck right through his chest, seemingly piercing through his heart, although it was hard to believe that he had, considering the fact that he was not dead already.
The champion of salt turned completely inert the second she was hit by that tree, grown by the third champion that had yet to show himself anywhere, brought in by the Elven Light, Ayelene was a wood elf, and much like Yuhu and Lylya, Thanatok would have said that he was not anything to write home about.
Lunate fell apart like a segmented doll, a white mist seeping out of her hollowed body, the same thing occurring from Milanit's splattered skull, shards of skulls floating amidst blood and pieces of brain like a most disgusting soup, the particles of white gathering into a single floating mass of ectoplasm, a crooked silhouette of translucence, many ghostly, globulous eyes sticking out from both sides, dozens of them atop one another like a most vile bouquet.
Twisting in the air, two arms sticking out, four elongating, jagged fingers protruding, spread outward, face toward the high ceiling, the ghost howled, the sounds wave visible to the naked eye, shaking their minds, muddling up their thoughts for an instant, not letting them think at all about his identity, but they didn't need to think, their bodies reacted instantly the instant he escaped from his shells, the dread, the fear.
That was the presence of a gravelord, of the most elusive of all, if Nosferatu was the strongest, then he was the trickiest.
Körpersucher, Mind Scourge, the ghost lord, thanks to his particular talent for possession, had been capable of bypassing the barrier, and using this same technique, Loimos had also gone inside under the guise of Lunate, but had to leave the empty shell for the gravelord to use as well since he had no way of maintaining control over the possession whilst getting slammed with devouring life.
"Mmmh… I liked that suit a fair bit… A delicate, most exquisite young lady… My favourite kind of flesh to slide into!" chuckling in a reverberating voice, Körpersucher was a most misshapen phantomatic mass, without legs, and without any distinguishable body parts other than his warped head and distorted arms, he didn't even use his limbs to attack, swinging his entire body like a flail, slamming into Yuhu first for the dire crime of breaking one of his best flesh suits.
The ghost's attack somehow hurt physically, throwing the rabbitfolk straight into a wall, but most importantly, it struck right up against the mind, contorting as he floated above ground he punched down toward Agilulf Wanneck, instead striking at a tree, the summoned vegetation lacked a mind however, and its apparition was much too slow to take a gravelord by surprise, the ghost lord's fist went right through, still hitting nothing as the Lylya pulled the wounded king away.
"Ah, you! You will make a most fine fleshy vessel for me" pointing his cooked finger at the dancer, then bringing it to what might be his chin.
"Urgh… Or maybe we should keep you all as your own undeads? We'll see how things go!" Körpersucher was awfully gleeful, not finding anyone around that could even begin to challenge him, he may not be the strongest of the lords but his nature as a ghost meant that few could even try to fight him.
And no one here knew how to fight back against a ghost.