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[[ChronPavis Pavis overall]]

Egil walked through the Underworld, the ruined shrine gone.

He was no longer Hu. He had not realised how tempting, how seductive it was, sinking into the personality of his god. It fitted. It //was// him, only sharper, brighter, what he would like to be, not what he now was. It was hard to give it up, to return to the dull, flat, mundane. That brief time with Dori, trapped in the Middle World, cut off from her magic, had made it easier to pull himself out, to remind himself that the "real" world still existed, even if "real" now seemed the least appropriate word possble.

But now he sank back into the world of myth, in his previous role. Li Phannquann was on the trail of a vampire. He had been prepared for this by friends he trusted, not dragged by a vampire who was hated even by his own allies. He bore swords that sang of Li Phanquann's powers and secrets. He knew where he was going, knew what would happen when he got there.

And there was the trail of blood, as expected, glowing faintly. He dropped the illumination still given by the Legion's Wyter: he would see better in darkness. And the Underworld was meant to be dark....

There was something a little odd, a little different, from the last time he had seen the sparkling drops leading him on, but he could not, for now, puzzle out what. Were they dimmer? A slightly different colour? But there were no colours here, only shades of black.

And then, ahead, a flash of light - no, of blood. Brighter. Was it the trail he should be following?

One figure on the ground, with many wounds, but not bleeding - no, no longer bleeding. Another bends over him. There is blood on his lips - on his teeth. He slices his own wrist with long, sharp nails - claws? and the blood that comes forth is that bright, evil radiance he had seen before. One drop - just one drop - is allowed to fall into the mouth of the wretch lying beneath him, who licks at it desperately, like a man dying of thirst. And changes. Egil cannot see details, but Li Phanquann knows what he has just become. Weakened, starved, drained himself to the point of death, this is still the Enemy. But so is the far more powerful figure who stands above him, gloating, exalting in his dominance.

Revulsion and hatred washes over him at the sight of the two creatures but he knows what he must do. Firstly he ensures that the magic he needs is in place, his Visage of Fear, his swords are blessed with Decapitate Foe, he asks for courage from the wyter in the form of Face Horror and so that he knows when it is going to move swiftly he calls on Recognise Preparation for attack. Then he weighs up his options and while the easiest approach would be just to sweep the monster's head from its shoulders from behind that way has no honour to it. Instead he makes his way stealthily as close as he dare and calls on Hereward's Howling Doomwind. It is as if suddenly all the tormented souls of hell are clamouring at once as a powerful wind rushes through the place carrying on it the pitiful shouts of the dead.

Parus half jumps out of his skin at the sudden intrusion but quickly gathers himself and spins to see who or what disturbs his moment of triumph. Seeing Egil he snarls "So you escaped, how did you manage that? Are your friends waiting for me to destroy them in my temple? Ha! I have a surprise for them that they will not like." But Egil is now part Hu and that part is the stoney Hu of the 9 Silences. He does not answer, he merely strikes at the vampire attempting to sever its foul head from its shoulders.

Parus gazes into Egil's eyes and flinches in horror but quickly recovers, his magic protecting him from the worst of the grim reality of his fate. It seems as if the blue glow has taken on the form of Wakboth, grinning malevolently out at him. All the time the eerie sound of the souls of the dead wailing on the wind fill the air.

Egil can see in his mind Illig, Ashar’s blade glowing blackly in his hand. Just by seeing the sword, it seems as though his visage has become more hateful and his aim for the vampire’s neck truer. He sees faces of comrades flash past him urging him on. “Kill it!”, “Destroy the monster”, “The wounded one must not live!”

As he swings the sword towards the vampire it feels as though Illig and the legion are showing him the spot he should hit, almost guiding it regardless of where the vampire moves to. Egil sweeps Enjou at the vampire's unprotected throat but even now it is not completely helpless. Still able to move with exceptional speed he begins to blur as he moves backwards but comes to an abrupt halt when Cavos, prone on the floor, intercepts a leg. His new fangs, glinting in the deathlight thrown by the twin blades, plunge into Parus' unprotected calf. Parus yells in pain but the scream, only half formed, dies instantly as Egil slightly alters the movement of his arm. Enjou hits Parus just under his left ear, flames erupting as it does. Egil drives it onwards, slicing through undead bone and muscle, all the time the magical blade burning the evil flesh until it bursts out and buries itself in the right shoulder.

The severed head falls to the floor and bounces twice before it is consumed in Enjou's magical flame. The rest of the cadaver falls
unmoving at Egil's feet, he plunges Enjou in and lets it remain there until the corpse is utterly cremated.

Egil then turns to Cavos. "For your aid here I offer you a choice. I will kill you here and now as swift as I can or you may come back with me to face the justice of the legion. No other offer can I make for you have become a slave of the wounded one and as such are anathema* to us. What would you have me do?"

* I don't know if Egil even knows such a word but he's LiP at the moment

The answer is a wordless whimper from burnt lips. Cavos had stayed desperately sucking the blood from Parus' leg until it was burnt to ashes, apparently not noticing the injuries he was taking in doing so. A hand reaches out weakly towards him, in what might be supplication. Or it might not. Either way, Cavos is clearly too weak to be a threat. Also too weak to walk, which on the purely practical level is a nuisance.

Egil is still Hu enough that his thoughts remain silent. He can't decipher the choice Cavos may have made, but taking him back to Legion justice seems to be the obvious answer. "Ten-thane Dorinda can decide what to do with you." He has no rope, but that doesn't matter. There's no need to be gentle with a vampire. He grabs Cavos by the hair and starts to drag him towards the Mundane, and his comrades.

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