3/4 Super Magi and Meditations

As the battle ensued, their visage seemed to be violent torn away from the myriad of angry farmers. With such a numerous bunch, it was only unavoidable that the enigma be caught up in the mess.

Playing a role, that begrudgingly didn't involve running away.

As every cord struck they moved to and fro, throughout the landscape in hopes of avoiding the dangers. Screeching of woes, unforgiving on the damages they may likely suffer from.

Barely managing to gather a full sight of the crowd as their locks dangled over their eyes. "Just as resilient as these famers were to bring about an end. So were those who stood against them and yet. It would go without saying, these pagans would likely suffer for their actions.
(?????)
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 A never dying onslaught of ice shards that descends from above, along with Nautia. It strikes ally and foe alike, not even caring for its creator– the vampire herself. It does not ask for permission, it simply acts. Following its own will and whims.

Shards of ice pass through the woman's shadowy cloak, penetrating into the blonde's body as if it was simply meant to be. Natural, almost. The wounds begin to heal as that occurs. Yes, the Avitus did die once before - but she was also born twice.

And she'd be damned if she'd allow a bunch of peasant to threaten her immortality. Her sword swipes through people as if she's cutting warm butter, and a talon grows upon each of her nails, lengthening into a claw of sorts.

Attacks are delivered with the sword-wielding hand, and even the one that resembled a wolf's paw.

She may or may not have stopped a couple of times throughout the fight to taste the blood that dripped from her icy claws, but it didn't seem to hold her back too much.
(Nautia Avitus)
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 Rather than firing his gun his self, the youth hands it up to the large arm coming from his head and allows it to spray the opposition for him. Unlike most of the others, he only fires off non-lethal blows. Air caps to stun and bruise rather than penetrate and kill.

Who could understand where they were coming from, and wouldn't allow himself to fall into the mob mentality of killing.

"Guardian, avoid the vitals. I know you probably don't know much about shooting that thing, but.." He stops speaking to himself once Hatsu and Esme come back into view, the fighting coming to an end for the time being.
(Ramsey)
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 With that, the vampire darted forward into the field; the two armies finally clashed, and it wasn't necessarily as 'easy' as people might've anticipated - many commoners within Vedran's past laid frostbitten and exhausted; if not maimed beyond recognition.

Leaving a well-defined trail of frostbitten and gored peasants, some fully encased within ice; like a pristine and elegant statue! If they were lucky? They'd only risk to lose a few extremities to the cold.

He kept a demented grin across his visage, smiling as pushed through commoner after commoner; like the monster he was so-often declared as..

It was only a wonder how the other Magi faired in combat.. How'd they even have magi in the first place?! Swearing that he may have butchered one in the ensuing onslaught.

Destruction and death would continue to follow.
(Vedran Ivanovich)
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 Valentine Invidia whispers something.
 Hatsu Wvelven whispers something.
 Hatsu Wvelven whispers something.
 Leoda remained silent as she continued to flood the field with black holes and enourmous clouds that overflowed with holy lightning. She could take care of the majority of the army with such attacks, but the magi's who lead them were tough!
(Leoda)
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[18:59] Ser Artaghh had pretty much slept through the entirety of the beginning of the battle, napping away in the tavern before arriving in an empty square in Dawn. He now found himself on the defensive line with a bit of confusion.
(Artaghh)
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 The force hellbent on revenge was impressively strong- their combined might doing considerable damage to Ipos' colossal body, probably deeming him an easy threat. Despite being overwhelmed by the enemy force, he stood tall- purple ichor dripping down his light wounds while he sliced in half those that got in his way.

Being blind, it was difficult to stop every attack thrown at him.. but he did his best, hearing the Legion's cheers as the enemy leaders fell to the ground- dooming themselves and their people to whatever fate the Lich deemed fitting.

"Your sacrifices will be part of a legacy- history will not forget you. I will see to it."

Burrowing his weapon into the shallow ground, Ipos directed his head toward the sounds of anguish- listening to what would happen to them.
(Ipos)
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There's no doubt that the army that marched towards Arthur would try to have his head- that much turned out to be apparent with how many blades, spears and arrows were fired and launched towards him; under constant pressure from the damages done to his body, despite the surrounding Storm that blasted off as many as possible, it would see that the Lich King was overwhelmed.

If only for a moment.

A strike after strike that kept him down was negated- until, a sudden grip upon their weaponry, and the Lich was rising like an unholy god in the mass of carnage; the glow only growing a lot more intense, for the essence of Fallen fuelled his living energy unto this world. And while they were seemingly close to bringing the rule of Rowan to the end...

"Nothing."
"Can."
"Kill me!"

A surge. A wicked flow of Necromantic energy. Everything- and everyone- unfortunate enough to be caught in the flow of malicious energy had their lifeforce sapped. Despite the damages that the opposition sought to inflict upon him, the Lich still lived, and still was as vigorous as ever. Whether it was true that he was unable to be killed or not could be put to a thorough test, but... it surely was difficult to do so.

"You thought you could end me? Witness my curse."

A pulse through the land. With the strength of Necromantic energy, any living Dawn soldiers that had fallen during initial assault were immediately brought back. Again and again, they battle.

Again and again, the carnage begins.
(Arthur Rowan)
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 The mages and non-mages definitely packed an unexpected punch. Through the hordes of their people and the onslaught of the peasants, Aspen was down for the count this time. Magics thrown all around, swords clashing against each other.

Truth be told it was difficult to tell what and where everything was happening at once. The flurry of destruction was blinding to say the least and in the moments she found herself against the ground?

Plenty of rage. Not enough that akin to a rage potion, but!

Gulp!

It was downed.
(Aspen Invidia)
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 The Fae didn't know what was going on. He hid amongst the boys tresses as blades and magic whipped by, downright terrified for his own life. Not only his, but the others around him. It was a cruel thing to witness, and there were so many feelings, emotions, thoughts all whirling around that he couldn't keep track.

The Fae hunkered deeper into the hood, peering out. Seeing the wounded of the city, he hesitated, but eventually a small shimmer of magic was cast out, the Fae offering slight support in the motion of healing. He would have no part in this war, but these people were Cicero's home. He wouldn't let them die without trying to offer some pacifistic assistance at least.
(Snap)
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Valentine Invidia whispers something.
Exhausted and yet EXHILIRATED! Jennifer had grown to enjoy this, her doubts fading away after the first rain of blood managed to pierce through a tiny group of peasants.

The blood of Vedran had changed her in more ways than simply giving her funny ink eyes and inhuman strength even for a magi's standard. Jennifer finished her fight with a few peasants grimly. One was caught by a hail of sharpened blood, another caught in a web of blood for her to suddenly drag back to the others.

Before she suddenly jammed a vial down the peasant's throat. "Now-Let's see...What this does to human subjects..." She pants out while fresh cuts and scars covered her body.

The skin of the farmer darkened, as if the entire body was covered in bruises. There was thrashing and screams of anguish that then stopped. For a moment, it had seemed the concoction had killed the man. But suddenly his flesh changed once more. Tumors, strange growths and bloating muscles covered the arms and legs before the farmer let out a wail, and suddenly collapsed for good.

"...Bah. Another failure."
(Jennifer Ivanovich)
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Hatsu Wvelven whispers something.
 Cicero looked up towards the fae in his hood, "Thank you, I need that." He was ready for more action.
(Cicero)
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 Valentine Invidia whispers something.
 Hatsu Wvelven whispers something.
 The magi were definitely an issue. Surprisingly strong, for peasants, and outnumbered ones at that. More often than not, Alvi had to make a quick getaway when one turned their attention on them.

The witch's attention, on the other hand, were focused on the masses. While everyone dealt with trying to bring down the mages, Alvi laid down swathes of flame that cooked and roasted the non-magi militants alive.

They knew full well that being captured alive meant horrors being brought upon them. Enough so that death at this point was a mercy. So when the concentrated shadowflames burned whatever caught Alvi's attention into unusuable ash, the undead hardly battered an eye. Whereas they were quick and methodical, quick cursory glances around showed them that this was hardly the same for everyone else. A look of disgust made it evident on the witch's face when they took in the brazen and unnecessary cruelty.
(Alvi Slade)
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 Airen Valor asks, "Ulyssa, y'alright?"
 Ulyssa asks, "I'm fine, its fine. You alright?"
 Richard Rowan says, "ooc my names reggie"
 Airen Valor exclaims, "Mhmm!"
 The fighting was absolutely intense for Kedara. It's her first ever, true taste of combat, and- being an Oscuri- she absolutely relished it. The nonmagi were cut down easily by her allies, leaving her able to deal with the farmer magi- rocks and boulders hold them in place for her allies to strike true and attack them. Still, they're ridiculously tough.

Much tougher than any adult she'd seen, actually! The earthquakes that one of them are causing knock her flat, and she has to scramble to get up. Despite this, she's grinning happily, ignoring any injuries and wounds that she's sustained.
(Kedara)
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 There were a lot more peasants than it looked. They swarmed the city like rats. Anna was hoping she would be able to sit back, fire the occasional spell and snack on a few bodies. With each passing moment it grew more clear that the urgent was more dire than she had thought. Among the weak, but abundant, non-magi were a few magis.

Anna kept her eyes on one in particular, Dean. The area around him ignited with holy fire, something the siren was not too fond of. Mostly keeping her attention on him she prepared herself, creating a veil of frost to protect herself from the harsh heat.

Looking to the hidden water spirit floating above her left shoulder she gave it an affirming nod. A burst of power surged through her as she channeled a blizzard of jagged ice. It took great precision to strike blast the icicles at her opponents without grazing her comrades in arms.

She counted every person she fell.

"One, two, three, four."

Claiming her dinner, the four non-magi that stumbled to the ground caused by the crossfire of her attacks. Soon, the holyfire magi seemed to be weakened, his movements were slowing from the onslaught of Dawn's combined forces. Seeing her opportunity she would hurl a small, condensed shard of ice at the man's heart, piercing clean through his chest. She walked up to the body and stood next to it, hoping that they'd let them eat him.
(Anna)
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 {NARRATION} The bannerless militia put up a fight.

These men and women didn't have anything left to lose, and they'd made that clear. The man wielding the woodsman's axe was one of the first to go, he was left bleeding out across the grass by a sword he never saw coming.

More of them were slaughtered, and none retreated. They pushed into the Lich's army without restraint or fear. They yelled battlecries of revenge and smashed into undead and the living alike. Any who fought for Dawn were their enemies, villains who had taken their loved ones away.

The battle didn't last all that long. Soon the bodies of the commoners littered the crimson plains. Lifeless and still, many died with smiles on their faces. But as Dawn expected this to be the end, something shifted;

A woman crawled forward and lifted herself up. She spat blood from her mouth and wiped the grime and filth from her face. Mortally wounded she glared at the Valmasian force and then let out a dry laugh and shook her head.

"This ain't over. This ain't over til I see my husband again. This ain't over til he and I are holding eachother again in Avalon." She clenched her fists and mana sparked around her, thrumming from her circuits and body as if she was giving all she had left to push forward. Holy energy envoloped her entire being and surged from her eyes as she hefted her axe forward.

"No matter how beautiful you think your Dawn is,
The Sunset always comes." she cried out.

Another rose beside her, powered by the very same Energy, along with a handful of dying soldiers who weren't going to quit.

Not until they were absolutely forced to.
Valentine Invidia says, "That nasty mother fucker."
Airen swung his blade a bit, a few drips of blood leaking from the brim.

"So be it then." he continued to recompose his stance in preparation.
(Airen Valor)
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 Snap whispers something.
 Cicero whispers something.
Valentine Invidia whispers something.
 Snap whispers something.
 Snap whispers something.
 "Useless-Absolutely useless." She chuffs out as she pulls the dead farmer she had so horribly mutated beyond recognition. This one could be saved for an autopsy into WHAT was causing her subjects to die and what had gone differently with the rat she had accidently let loose into the wilds to rampage. Yes, she should PROBABLY go and catch that mutant rat after this.

Two new magi had risen. She raised a brow at their new found vigour. "I want the girl alive. She will make a nice test for these concoctions."
(Jennifer Ivanovich)
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 She was grinning until the peasant woman picked herself up... and actually displayed some true power...

That was a little late no? After they decimated almost their entire force... However... this fight would be much better.. The blackened lightning surrounding her welling up even more power than before...

It was nice to have basically eaten an immortal spirit of lightning....
(Jessi Ann)
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 Ser Artaghh would crack his knuckles grimly before unsheathing his blade, glancing across the battlefield at the familiar aura of unrefined, peasant energy. Finally, a worthy adversary, their battle would be legendary.
(Artaghh)
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Roanna Rosenkreuz says, "Dear goodness I do hope SOME of these guys are merely unconscious so I have something to work with..."
 Renegin Billard says, "Dont worry Rose. Im knocking my lot out."
 Kathryn says, "..."
 Roanna Rosenkreuz says, "Bless you."

 The two super magi as well as their crippled and dying comrades put up a last ditch effort, but they were no match for Dawn. Marching here from across the mountains and through the caves, it was likely every one of them knew that. They all expected to die here, and they found themselves correct.

Finding her end at the hands of Leoda, Mary looked to the sky and smiled bitterly. Though her words wouldn't be heard, she spoke a silent greeting to a face she hadn't seen in years, and the life left her eyes.

Dawn was victorious. But at what cost?

Pacing forth into the wintery north of Dawn once more, Ser Artaghh would clutch his battered person with a grunt of pain as he felt the full force of an energy magi's kinetic force blasting him straight through. If the knight hadn't already been bald, his hair would have been entirely singed. Finally, the familiar coastline of his old training camp in the north, the very same he'd used during his brutal energy training sessions, where he'd pushed his limits to achieve the present state of mastery he had over the shroud.

Approaching the coast line, for once the bald swordsman would do something he wasn't used to. This training wasn't going to be physically strenuous, but it would take every fiber of his being he suspected. Floating upwards with a snap of his fingers, the novice gravity spell raised Artaghh hovering above the ground as he crossed his legs and closed his remaining eye, the frigid winds of the tundra and the idle chittering of local rabbits slowly, steadily being dulled out as the knight enshrouded himself in his familiar shroud of energy, slowly reaching a state of meditative trance after hours of twitching and nose scratching.
(Artaghh)
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 Ser Artaghh would, for once, just think for a while. He'd experienced quite a bit of trauma he hadn't particularly mulled over or had time to process, and no matter how wide his smile had been, the poisons of the Swuisarme King would never leave him. A third of his lungs had to be carved out just to keep him alive, and though he was as sturdy as they came, every hoarse breath and coughing session reminded him that he didn't have the vigor of his prime anymore. Not until he got a set of Arcanium lungs from Dylerun, no, not until then,

The knight knew with certainty what they'd seen on the island wasn't normal. He'd expected a giant fish, a few dumb fish people like Anna, and a bit of glory. And glory there was, killing the cultists naked with his bare hands had made the knight's evening by itself. But when they found that foul amulet, that emanation of madness and evil, and summoned forth the beast, everything changed. When that rift in space time split open, and that towering mutant sovereign marched forth with the sentient eyes of an aged, bored hunter dealing with mice, Artaghh learned that he was perhaps a minnow in a very, very big ocean.
(Artaghh)
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 The knight knew he needed to go even further into energy magic. He was already an acclaimed knight in the melee, and his aura shined brighter than most. But he knew this next step wouldn't require physical toil, no, he'd gauged some tales of the Mystic arts during one of his very rare trips to the library. He had mastered his body, now he needed to master his mind. He would need to achieve more foul insights into the dark origins of beasts like the Swuisarme King, hunt them down, and kill them. And they had a lead, of course. An evil one, but a lead most certainly.

The Mind's Eye, the amulet possessed by the smooth talking, hulking lead cultist in that hodunk, inbred mutant town. It possessed no positive qualities or enchantments whatsoever, and wasn't even particularly aesthetically pleasing. But it whispered things that were not meant to be heard, and with enough study, he was certain his brother could find a pathway to the dimension of these beasts. They would face the other dimensional host one by one in their foul lairs, and put them to the sword for the glory of Dawn. That was the way of a true knight, to protect people even at the cost of your own constitution.
(Artaghh)
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 Ser Artaghh would think quietly to himself, all gauging his second option in the matter of advancing his understanding of the Mystic arts. He could, of course, have a spiritual journey in the literal sense. Allende had connections from his façade in the Explorer's Guild, and he could perhaps map an expedition in the dimension beyond to find greater understanding of the true essence of raw mana. The knight was capable of increasing the magnitude of his energy shroud to its absolute heights, but now he would need to increase its density. He would expand his mind and seize true mastery of energy magic, mold himself into a weapon capable of protecting Dawn from otherworldly threats.

The knight would nod steadily, he decided he would take the third option. He would do both, and protect Dawn proactively. They would hunt down the beast's home, mount an expedition to the spirit realm, and pursue the depths of the rabbit hole one eldritch abomination and spectral horror at atime. It would really be just a fun afternoon all things considered, as long as there wasn't any poison. Artaghh was not a fan of poison one bit, oh no, he was not. Slowly descending to the ground, the one eyed swordsman would return to the ground, snow crunching beneath his silvery sabatons as he slowly paced back towards Dawn, stalwart and once more focused in his pursuits. He would master the Mystic Arts.
(Artaghh)