The call had been made, assembly at the Counselor's Hall in Trammel Britain was the status quo for residents of the realm. Approaching the Hall was an act of Valor in and of itself. Wyrm coiled about the street lamps, Dragons snapped and hissed, their scale covered necks towering high above the thatch of the hall, and a cabal of black steeds sat patiently next to the door. Within the hall was all manner of adventurer. Warriors sliding wet stones across their blades, rogues glancing about for loosely secured items and from seemingly no where, one of the Priests of Britannia, Moderators of these sort of injunctions. "There is a man running through the woods to Jhelom, you should intercept him." A response was muttered low from somewhere int he gathering "I got a bad feeling about this drop." Enter, Chusa. After a short exchange of words and magical conjuration gates were raised, and promptly entered, leading to another nexus and then, combat. The Beachhead was secure for roughly ten paces, a quick glance about revealed the location. Fire Island, Trammel, the recent volcanic and seismic activity had been a hot spot for strange happenings, and with the mouth of the Underworld only a short distance away it wasn't surprising the The Crux Ansata was nearby. What was surprising, however, was the sheer volume of hostile entities. Ravenous Hell Hounds quickly caught the scent of the force pouring from the gate and alerted the surrounding defenders. The area exploded into a cacophony of words of power. Yelps signaled the start of the conflict, dragon's bellowed as the hounds were put down, darkly garbed mages moved forward from the mountain pass and from about their feet terrible vortex of stinging sand materialized. Evil Mage's robes became little more than tattered thread as the force pushed forward, Chusa at the head, until an ornately dressed mage stepped forward from the wall, talking large portions of the wall with it. Elementals of the finest ores and minerals shambled towards the comrades of the Knights. Powerful chants rose from behind the pass and the numbers of the defenders swelled. Humanoid figures composed of mist appeared and bolstered the swell of magically composed creatures. Britannia began to lose momentum. Finally pushing through the choke point the force spotted two knights fighting alone amidst a sea of corpses, some garbed as paladin and some clearly inhuman. A moment was spared and all seemed to give pause, the real battle had just begun. Enter, Lord Siemon Bennu, Danica Amandine, and several well dressed corpses. Britannia made a slow crawl towards them, keeping formation while the two Knights fought bravely. For two knights with only a pair of Order shields, a pole axe and a viking sword, the show of Valor displayed by the two shall never be questioned. It was just about that time a very blue figure lept directly into the middle of the brawl, arising slowly the archmage's hair began to tussle and slither. With snakes for hair the figure uttered only a single phrase. "Bring me their heads." Enter, Roshameric The Black, and after a snap of his fingers, his delightfully numerous Balron assistants. Meanwhile! Back at the beachhead, Well then, back to the main battle? As the force finally cornered Roshameric, having cut off most of his snake-hair, warriors piled atop him and found themselves being spontaneously duplicated along with the tamer's animal companions. While the warriors were busy fighting their alter-egos Roshameric summoned some sort of larger enslaved infernal being. Exit Roshameric, Enter Jumuresh the Bound, some manner of demon sultan, but most certainly evil. After a very long and tiresome battle he was slain. The residents of the clearing looked on in horror as, from each slain foe, oozed a peculiar substances, free from the bounds of gravity and listlessly compacting into a massive entity that struck out with a terrible force, with out a bellow or any words, it simply began to take lives. And so the Knights of the Crux Ansata descended on this new beast with the vigor of their third wind. Then it killed. EVERYONE. Three times. The day was finally won, after the third strike the forces of good composed themselves and struck down the beast. Mortally wounded, scarred, charred, and exhausted Chusa had the two knights escorted back to Jhelom's inn. A tearful Danica made the realization that only three Knights of the Ankh remained. Danica, mournful and tired. Chusa, his armor dented and his sword thoroughly dulled. Siemon, half dead and bleeding, run through the middle and down the leg. The three retired to the inn and the collective assembly returned to their homes and loved ones, awaiting news of these new heros. Some took with them the bloodied tunics of the fallen Knights, all present took home the honor of marching with Britania's newest heroes. Keep a sharp eye for the continuing adventures of The Knights of the Crux Ansata!