dev 14 - battle against wraith

An hour had passed since the Wraith was spotted entering the castle- and that same hour had passed without any other note of its presence.

Then the lights in the courtyard flicker and dim- the magical energy powering them being drawn in near-visible streams towards the large phoenix statue looming over the usually peaceful green. From within the breast of the stone bird steps an ethereal figure- glowing blue eyes roving out over the courtyard, clad in armour of deep black metal, upon its back that massive greatblade that has mutilated oh-so-many knights and civilians alike since its first debut.

It begins to clap. Slowly, patronizingly. Then...it speaks, in a voice low, coarse- as if a whisper, yet clearly audible to all in the courtyard.

"Con-grat-u-lations. You killed a dragon, and stopped that frigid fuck-up up North from utterly decimating your supply lines- only mostly decimating them. Congratulations, truly. Slaying a dragon is no small feat!"

The Wraith pauses for several long seconds, allowing its words a moment to sink- and as lighter-armoured figures begin to step from within the breast of the phoenix, flanking the Wraith in a military formation, pikes held at the ready, glowing blue eyes looking straight forwards.

"...then you pulled out of your Gods-damned siege! Admittedly, I was looking forward to it. There’s no greater excitement than that found during the chaos and bloodshed of a true war- not those piss-poor excuses for skirmishes on the bridge, but REAL combat- and it’s disappointing to see you fuckers back out from it."

It begins to laugh as its monologue continues, now slowly pacing mid-air in-front of the statue. Its low and quiet, just as its voice- and similarly audible to all present.

"Imagine if those sons-of-bitches from the war were still alive! Now those! Those were some warriors! Managed to push back our invasion at its peak, and even fucking BEAT US! They’d’ve pounced upon such a golden opportunity for conquest- but what do you pussies do?"

It gestures outwards as if offering a moment for them to respond to its question, immediately cutting off anyone who tried to answer as its ‘voice’ barked out again.

"You sue for peace! When you just slayed what might as well have been a mother-fucking demigod to their people’s. You think they’re gonna just sit down and forget that? Most of them probably will, actually! Sorry excuses for dragons, most of them all. But those few that DESERVE to call themselves a dragon? Oh, you can bet they’ll come back with a vengeance- whether it be through fire and brimstone, or hail and frost- shattering your pitiful peace, and hitting you cowards right where it hurts."

The Wraith of Barsburg pauses now- directly in-front of the center of the phoenix. It looks out over the crowd once more, and reaches to its back. Drawing its blackened blade, it holds it skyward for a moment, before leveraging it out towards the crowd before it, swivelling its arm so the tip gestures to the gathered peoples in their entirety. The battalion of spectral soldiers flanking it ready their pikes in synchrony as their commander speaks.

"But we’re gonna beat them to it. Fucking fight REAL soldiers, you limp-dick excuses for warriors."

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The rules of this event are as follows:

 - This will be a series of 1v3s versus the Wraith of Barsburg. Each fight will be a dangerous four, with three rounds. You need to be in a party of exactly three to fight.
 - ICly, only one group can attack it at a time as a result of the ghostly battalion accompanying it.
 - If the Wraith wins, the challengers receive only their injury rolls as injuries. Temps will be unhealable for one day.
- If the Wraith loses and doesn’t get captured, future combats will increase to a danger six, and the fighting will continue.
- If the Wraith loses and gets captured, it is slain by the trio fighting it. Be respectful, and don’t take all the glory if you slay it.
 - Challengers may only fight the Wraith one time. If you have fought it, move over to the side of the courtyard.
- Don’t RP between rounds.
[Narrate]

The wraith.

It's expected that it would be coming here, with its chilly resonance permeating upon the streets of Osrona- as much as he disliked the presence here as far as anyone could tell.. it is something which he would answer regardless, for a simple reason.

The Rhoynish were meant to be guard against such entities.

And as such, he's here to answer the call.. perhaps, the subtle hints of the rosegold gathering upon the frame when Basil intends to call upon his star once more, for he knows - it would be a difficult fight no doubt, but..

Would he find himself intimidated by it?

"...This thing has fallen before."

"It has been defeated several times in the past. By my people." For he remembers it all too well.. and he remembers this being rather youthful, back then. Perhaps, it is the time that they finally get back to it..

For he still bears the scar since their last encounter; it was powerful enough to leave that despite their victory. Yet, with the gathering of stardust upon his frame, with the rosegold that threatens to overspill, to create an explosive cocktail that could threaten it whole..

"And it can be taken down again."

Is there any necessity to speak? Is there any necessity to reason with the being this hateful?

None.

There are no reason to do so; and the battalion which it leads.. the mix of deadly, explosive stardust is unleashed. Why bother talking, when it would be a dangerous threat nonetheless?

They're here to remove it for good - and he's certain they would oblige so.
(Basil)

The first to suffer the wrath of the Wraith personally would be this trio of misfortunate souls. The rest of those gathered held at bay by the battalion of undead spectres- they'd be given the opportunity to have first shot at taking down the Wraith.

Yet an opportunity is no guarantee, as it charges them down- blackened blade held ready, a menacing grin upon its face.
[Narrate]

The wraith does not play kind, nor does it play fair.

Scarlett is cut along the back of her legs, impairing her muscles- possibly permanently- hamstringing her. and knocking her from combat.

Owyn is afflicted with distorted, malignant time magics. His reactions inconsistent, he was dispatched soon after.

Yani is punched in his gut. Really, really hard. Hard enough to send him flying over into the corner of the courtyard.

The spectral battalion covering the Wraith's flanks is brutal and vicious, yet not flawless. Eventually- soon after its fight with the first trio concludes, a second manages to force their way in.

It turns to face them with a nasty, ghastly grin, then charges.
[Narrate]

Another group is felled through by the Wraith of Barsburg- its blade making long, deep strikes, yet its fists and feet not remaining idle.

Astrid is cut along her face, permanently ruining her vision- and leaving her eyes that same colour.

Abel's energy is dragged from him, stolen- and it'd be harder for him to use magic.

Eric? Eric is lucky.

Those three are sent sprawling backwards, just as that spectral battalion thins once again- allowing Basten, Arthur, and Zefa forwards to face it in combat.

Yet as the fighting has been going on...the Wraith has appeared to become far, far weaker- its form wavering in the light of the night. It seems to be weakening, if slowly.
[Narrate]

It's nearly a meat grinder, yet as- this time- Basten, Arthur, and Zefa are dispatched- the effects of such continual fighting is apparent.

The wraith's form wavers, and it shifts. The spectral battalion covering it from total annihilation is beginning to thin, and yet they fight on- furious and steadfast in their defense of their commander.

As good soldiers do.

Yet they fall regardless, and this time? They allow a trio of holy and cosmic magi through- Inante, Del, and Elora. The wraith offers Del a sly grin, then glances towards Inante, offering him a nod.

"We meet again. This will be enjoyable."

Such are its only words before its blade is readied again, and it drives forth towards them- intent on doing the same to them as those before.
[Narrate]

Maybe if Del hadn't brought a bunch of old people to a fight with a pissed-off wraith, they'd've done far, far better than they had. Del's arm is gifted the glory of being broken and splintered by the back of the Wraith's blade, Inante that of a major blow to the head- probably giving him a concussion.

Yet they did manage to wear it down further, yet further. Its form wavers again, and it pauses for a moment- seemingly taken a knee to catch its breath. The battalion of spirits surrounding it has thinned dramatically, leaving only the most steadfast alive- yet its still enough to keep all the magi from jumping on it in unison.

Thalis, Bernadette, and Grunbeld are allowed closer in through a gap in the formation- and it stands again, wavering for a moment, then brandishing its blackened blade.

Gesturing for them to come forth.
[Narrate]

Thalis and Grunbeld and Bernadette. They do quite well.

Given that the Wraith has been worn down, greatly so, by the previous combats. Nonetheless, they do respectable.

As that trio is sent flung backwards by a strike of the Wraith's blade, the opening where they had gone through leaves a perfect opportunity for Mars, Tiernay, and Basil to slide in before the formation reconvenes.

It appears tired, now- fatigued- and yet still it brandishes its blade, and prepares to fight.

For that is why it is there. To fight until there are none left to fight it. There's a chilling smile on its face.

It seems to be enjoying this mass carnage and bloodshed. This skirmish.

Though it doesn't seem to be low-risk.
[Narrate]

It couldn't be avoided. Knowing that they would be facing off against the monstrosity of the wraith, knowing that battling the enemy amidst batallions would simply not be enough- for while his duty as a Rhoynish is to prevent the spread of such infectious presence that the Wraith happens to be, it is clear to him that this battle would be difficult.

If nigh impossible.

The chill was permeating in the air, and whereas he comes closer to it, there's but a brief glance cast towards his companions- he had no doubt that both of them knew what exactly they should be doing in a battle such as this, and yet.. this is something that he was concerned about - if only for their own safety.

"..Don't get too close to it."

"Avoid its blade at all costs. It's powerful enough to cleave you in half."

He had first-hand experience with that. But where the tint of rosegold gathers around his frame, it becomes the presence to battle against the persisting cold of the wraith; there's but the last gather of stardust, before he exclaims.

"Let's do this."
(Basil)


The Wraith is tired. Its form is flickering in the light clearly, and its strikes appear to be weaker than before- at least, they'd certainly feel that way.

This time, the trio beats the Wraith backwards- its strikes hitting brutally and painfully, yet none of them are struck in any major locations- allowing them through the combat with overall minor injuries.

Yet before Basil can strike a finishing blow...

Several of the Spectral Legion converge on his position, blocking him, preventing him from landing a final strike. Those few of the Wraith's guard usher it further away from the successful trio, and a number of them perish in the attempt- yet they are successful.

Within the chaos of the fight, Basil is robbed of his kill- and the Wraith is robbed of most of its guards.

It wouldn't get another free getaway. Yet would it need one, as that trio was...by far, the most competent yet. As a group, at the least.

Ushered forth, the Wraith is allowed some few moments to recover and recuperate- and its placed right afore Ella, Flotsam, and Barthalamew.

Its blade is brandished, and though wounded and weak- it glares at them.

This will be a glorious death. Re-death. Yet it doubts many of those present would be able to claim the same, when their time comes.
[Narrate]

There is evident difficulty in defeating the wraith such as this; for each time that he tries to corner it within peculiar fashion, each time it seemingly slips away.. or tries to evade the blow that could finish it for good - he finds himself capitalizing on the fact that it is, in fact, tired, for it would be unwise to not try and finish it off while it's being like this. After all..

Would it not mean that they're going to banish it into the afterlife?

Strike after strike. He works alongside his group, and whereas the potent magic of both Mars and Tiernay provide an overwhelming strength that already pushes the wraith around enough - the addition of his own only prompts it to be far too close for the Wraith's comfort. After all..

Each time the stardust connects, each time that it explodes.. it finds itself weakened - to the point of being almost impossibly stuck in the endeavour of soon falling.

"Finally."

The moment is seized. He sees the opportunity to kill it, and he doesn't hesitate- the tint of rosegold, the call to his star, Alph, in which the power of cosmos is drawn - where the explosive, potent flames of would-be supernova gather, he finds the opening created by his allies, and..

"Die."

It escaped him for too long. The strength of Alph surges through him, the power of judgment that permeates all existence around him- it is enough to strike down anything, to swallow the very space in which the wraith resided, but..

He realizes that he's robbed of his kill.
The guards take it upon themselves.

"What? Again?!"

It isn't the first time that he's robbed of the kill for the wraith- for he almost took it down before; yet quickly, the guards are swept off by the charged explosion of the cosmic supernova, one in which the rosegoldtint drives through with the power unmatched - it becomes a testament to the destructive force that would, no doubt, finish it on spot.

If only it hadn't fled.

"Where is it?"

A look around. Soon, he realizes that their efforts did not result in its death. Soon, he realizes that it escaped... again.

"...A second time."

There's a frown that appears across his features. Though, they weakened it, just like previous groups.. and to that end, there's an exclamation that follows.

"I can only hope others are going to take it down while it's weak."

And without guards? It would no doubt find its second death.
(Basil)