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Martin surveyed his troops. There had been heavy losses on the journey, though he hoped that many of the injured would eventually be able to be patched up and returned to service. Standing alongside him were Ma'siq, Jauffre, Baurus, and the warriors from Earth. Other Blades were around but were busy with their own battles.

An army of scamps. Eh. Left to himself, he would have taken the whole lot out with a ranged Ice attack. But he knew he had to conserve his magicka for an emergency.

What could he do that was easy and didn't wipe out his entire reserves? Knowing that he, of all people, had to survive, he cast Shock Shield on himself and pulled out his Longsword of Frost. Praying to Akatosh for the strength to keep going, he ran forward and lopped the heads off a couple of scamps. He hoped that by charging into the fray himself, he'd inspire the others.

Naomi was clad head to toe in the light, but strong plate armour of the blades. She was still reeling from the knowledge the book Ma'siq had given her, but she could certainly understand its effects. Whereas before her movement in the armour would have been awkward, laborious, now it came as naturally as steps taken in her customary jeans. Whereas before her skill with the katana had been dodgy, at best, now it was as disciplined and practiced as a stroke from her pen on a page of one of her florally decorated notebooks.

She watched Martin charge into battle, her heart rising in anticipation for the battle. She felt like she had fought, not a dozen battles, but a dozen wars. It was a strange feeling.

She glanced over at Emily, her golden blade almost radiating energy.

"Shall we?" she asked softly, drawing her sword with a practiced snick.

Tyson was standing a few feet away from where Martin had charged in from.

His face was covered in (fake) tattoos, traced onto his face by a couple of blades he knew.

"Kia kaha. O te rangatira, tatau e. Kia kaha." He whispered to himself, keenly aware that he was the sole remaining representative of the proud Maori race.

He looked around for his beloved Saren, but amongst the sea of identical helmets he had no idea where she was.

He eventually turned back towards the army from hell spread out in front of him.

"Well, no point [&@%!] around now." He muttered.

He noticed Naomi draw her blade a little further down the line, so he decided to join her and Emily in the charge.

He drew his Ebony Blade with a soft hiss, gently caressed it with the back of his hand, and strode over to stand next to the two young women.

"Lets go kick some alien-ass." He said as a greeting.

"Ooh [&@%!] rah!" Naomi chorused back, grinning.

At Naomi's invitation Emily turned her head toward her, a look of concentration in her pale blue eyes. She had come quite a long way, now, from the girl she was - and might have been. Yes, she now stood with one of M'aiq's strange weapons, shimmering gold in the strange fiery red light of the city's blazes, and glad in not just Aaron's strange armor but a more customary outfit of the land she would now call home; but even more, she had gained new sensations robbed from her as a toddler, acquired new languages, new skills, new sensations, new companions. It was a strange journey and perhaps this all was but a rapidly unveiling dream - but if it were to end, she was going to end it on her own terms, and with victory for her friends.

Emily's lips turned with a small smile as Tyson approached, and she nodded to both he and Naomi, readying her blade in her hand with motions that were not quite as novice as when she had first picked it up. "Let's do it," she cried enthusiastically, and started forward to lead the charge, slashing at a scamp whose only crime was being too close to her intended path at that moment.

Naomi charged after her friend with a ragged cry, slicing through the first scamp she came to with a pent-up, restless rage

Tyson grinned and whooped as he charged, simply shoulder-barging the first scamp out of his way (making sure to stomp his boot on it as he ran over it), and he soon joined the girls and Martin in spreading as much scamp blood over the ground as he could.

Martin laughed as he realised that the scamps had no idea who he was. With all of his troops dressed in the same light plate armour made of Aaron's magic bees, they all looked identical to the simple-minded daedra. He was so glad he'd talked Jauffre out of the silly idea that he should go to the Imperial City dressed in his father's old robes. What kind of protection would there have been in majestic velvet and fur? And they'd have shown even the stupidest daedroth which human was the heir...

His sword sang as it slashed through the necks of the scamps. Although outnumbered several times, the scamps took a while to realise they could be beaten. They tried to spread out to further distance to shoot magic at their enemies. While Martin attacked a scamp in front of him, another crept round behind him to launch a fireball at him - but it bounced harmlessly off his amazing new armour.

Roman shot a charge from his wabbajack at a scamp turning it into a goat.

Dayton swung Umbra in the general direction of the scamps, redering a bunch of them horribly mutilated. Holding the blade caused Dayton to sense a peculiar feeling deep inside. Some kind of [&@%!] up unnatural hunger.

Pete blasted a scamp with the Skull of Corruption, creating a clone that immediately began to attack the original scamp. As those two fought, Pete sent fireballs from his free hand towards more of the oncoming daedra, burning them. He tried to keep a good distance away from the up-close fighting; he didn't want to be on the receiving end of a fireball or a swipe from a scamp's claws.

Saren kept formation with her fellow Blades, but was able to catch a few glimpses of Tyson through the massacre of the scamps. She had to remind herself that her focus was protecting her liege Martin.

The scamps all dead, more creatures from Oblivion began to enter Mundus.

Roman and Dayton found themselves face to face with a Clannfear a great dinosaur type creature. It began charging them.

Tyson and Saren were under assault by a Storm Atronach.

Emily and Naomi were being tormented by a Flame Atronach who was casting fireballs at them.

Pete and Anya had another Clannfear to contend with.

Martin found himself being stared at by a Xivilai.

"Wabbajack?" Roman asked Dayton.

Crap, I think this thing has fire resistance, Pete thought, wishing he'd taken the time to learn how to cast ice spikes or lightning. He turned to Anya quickly.

"Okay," he told her, pointing towards the spider daedra, "I'll make a clone of it, and once it's distracted fighting, you can go in and get it from behind." He stood to face the daedra, and sent a blast towards it from the Skull of Corruption.

Tyson found himself standing next to Saren, staring ahead at some kind of floating rock-monster.

"What the [&@%!] is that?" He asked, trying to work out whether it was actually a creature, or some kind of weird magic.

Martin stared at the Xivilai, trying to hide his revulsion. Of all the daedra in existence, Xivilai were his least favourite. They were what he'd summoned with the Sanguine Rose in his youth, back when he still thought daedra worship was a good idea, and what he'd seen laughingly summon Clannfear to devour his friends in their huge jaws... The memory almost brought him to his knees: even here, even now. How many times had he relived it in evil dreams?

"I can sssmell your fear, little mortal," hissed the Xivilai. Why did they have to be intelligent? Scamps were easy to slaughter, but creatures with actual brains less so. And why had it singled him out? Surely it couldn't recognise him out of all of the humans?

"Sssoon Lord Dagon will ssspill Ssseptim blood," it went on. "Though not if I ssspill it firssst!" It slashed at Martin with its ebony claymore, wielding the heavy weapon one-handed as no human could ever do. Martin leapt back, knowing better than to let his own silver longsword get tangled with the larger creature's weapon. If he wasn't careful the Xivilai, unafraid of injury, would simply pluck it out of his hand. He brought his shield round to protect himself, just in time as the Xivilai cast a powerful Heat Blast.

The resulting explosion sent Martin flying backwards. He spat a curse as he fell, wishing he wasn't so tired. Aaron's armour prevented him from being injured as it simply rippled with the shock of the spell, melted, then reformed in place. But the ends of his hair were singed where they stuck out of his helmet, and the smell brought back recollections of Kvatch. Blood, sulphur, daedric stink... burned bodies...

Martin swore. He'd got through the Battle of Bruma without coming apart, and he didn't need to fall to pieces now. Not now that there was so little time left. He wasn't sure if he was going to survive the day, but he was damned if he was going to be killed by anything less than Dagon himself.

Emily squeaked as she dodged a fireball thrown by the strange creature now assaulting her and Naomi. She landed ungracefully on her feet and looked at the thing angrily, narrowing her eyes. "What is that?" she cried to Naomi.

The Flame Atronach giggled and did a pirouette in the air before flinging another ball of fire towards the pair of girls.

"Atronach. Storm Atronach, I think," Saren said, recalling the description of a book she'd read which detailed many types of otherworldly creatures. "I'm not too eager to find out what it can do!"

The Storm Atronach shot a bolt of lightning towards Saren.

"Look out!" Tyson yelled, shoving Saren out of the way.

Unfortunately, he moved just in time to catch the lightning bolt with his back.

Tyson went flying forwards, moving his shoulder to brace his fall, but still being stunned upon crashing heavily into the ground.

Luckily the suit of Aaron he was wearing saved him from serious injury, but he still lay on the ground groaning.