Allies of Convenience?

*casting my memory-crystal up into the air, and allowing my thoughts to form inside it as it twirls and sparkles. A lesser trinket, nothing like the full blown Ioun Stones that I have lost - but fit to purpose*
 
It appears I may have found allies. They are certainly powerful, though unsubtle in means. Alas! Such always, with warriors.
 
But I am getting ahead of myself.
 
After the blaze consuming the Demonhame, I have set myself forth to locate and address other conurbations of the mystical flows of this world. Ruled by an iron-fisted despotic fool, with no understanding of the Higher Arts - and who has driven this worlds defenders into hiding - the likes of this 'DEMON'.. truly the forces of Darkness have little truck with originality.. how so, for is evil not always banal and repetitive in its baseness.. in any event, evil magic cannot be allowed to root and spread, for there is little left to stop it.
 
Of course, something was located, else I would be reduced to journaling upon the undiscovered gustatory delights and the fascinating amoratory possibilities of the grand Thousand Year City (odd, for is it not built in just the last few?) I find myself inhabiting.
 
Or more likely it would find discourse as to the voluminous errors and questionable thinking of the modern student of magical history. Still, some of the children show sparks and embers of the talent - I will have to fan those gently, or convince them to leave safely aside. Magic is no place for the untrained, and with the magical defenders of this world gone, the children will need help.
 
But I digress. Dark magic is located. This finds me, in easy seven-league strides, atop a high place to the East, casting my vision down upon a mortal far-speaking engine... a... "Radio Tower". Well and good, though nothing to do with magic.
 
What IS to do with magic is the five witches of hellfire, DEMON adjutants most certainly, arranged as a pentacle about the place, engaged in summoning a something vile from the far beyond, a hellish beast, lost to all higher faculties and desiring only the ruination and destruction of mankind and all its works, bound only tenuously to the wills of those benighted magi who risk life and soul in such dark congress...
 
But I digress, again. Black Magic annoys me.
 
I am begun my subtle assault - none of these have the insight of spirit to detect or resist the sibilant whispers of my will slowly subverting theirs, such that soon they will fall amongst themselves in senseless savagery, leaving the superior magus safe...
 
And then *they* come in.
 
How to describe them! First, an apparent void elemental - human outline, midnight clad, as swift as the space between the stars - and nearly as strong. She came fast, attempting to lay some foci of their own power upon the far-speaking engine. Evidently she did not see or comprehend the true nature of the disguised beast below her, triggering conflict.
 
One some form of animalist - perhaps a druidess, or shapeshifter, or mayhaps a totem-spirit. Another! A Golem by its magic, though a complex one. A mortal woman, well fashioned, to more normal senses. Apparently sentient, as well. Fascinating mage-craft.
 
A dragonet? Wyrmling? It both tastes and does not of Dragon... perhaps the Dragons of this age are different. It seems young, unsure of itself.
 
More! A flying man, masked. Celeritous and puissant, like the Star-clad one. A woman with some form of glowing mind-blade in hand. Some form of psychic, perhaps?
 
Oh, brave new world, that has such people in't!
 
The conflict itself is short, sharp, and subtle as my new-found allies... though one cannot question their efficacy. In moments, the various sorceresses of DEMON are defeated, and the actual Demon dispatched to the darkness in which it dwells. They have placed their artifact atop the speaking tower, and now we must decided what fate shall befall the defeated. They will need to be interrogated, but that should be little enough trouble.
 
Now to see if an old man can make new friends.
 
*a small flash of light, as the memory-sense recording ends*