Exovaryn Haruke: Capturing a Pureblood

With their recent victory over Bastet being more or less swept under the rug, with everyone present sworn to secrecy over the matter, being confined into such a small space made his skin crawl even more than usual. Even an entire city seemed like it was no larger than a small prison cell. This milestone in his fighting career had to be proffessed to someone, anyone, but nobody was allowed to know. It was slowly eating him alive from the inside.

He had to escape from this prison that he'd crafted for himself, if even for a moment before their war efforts would let him have just the outlet he needed to vent his frustration with keeping the secret and to cement the legend of his might on his own terms. This of course brought him out to the Bygone Grove, at quite a brisk pace, almost jogging, though once he was free of the eyes and ears of the city, he couldn't restrain himself any longer.

The young warrior fell to his knees and raised his arms high above his head as he proclaimed to the world, "WE DEFEATED BASTET!!!!"
(Zaugrishak Taramak)

Floating overhead were the prying eyes of a tested Harukean, watching the Bysonian numbers, attempting to calculate the quantites that moved..
He could detect their transitioning towards the boats at their docks. It was most appropriate considering they were blocked off from the west from Alterosi forces. Though, not once did they send a retaliation force for the many that had fallen in the strike against the Citadel further north...

This was what this man was here for...
He was here because he -knew- there were people of interest here...
He was here because he -knew- someone was within the village mainland.
He -knew- they were ensnared within the establishments abroad- No... The Keep...
And with a single Aegis soldier venturing apart from the crowd, proclaiming his success to the world.... He could only help but watch.
Watch with interest, as the name sputtered off turned out to be another ally to this very nation.

Was this man not one he had met before? To 'defeat' a common enemy... Did that make the enemy of his enemy, his friend? It was all naught but thought for the moment, and thus he'd lower himself in slow mannerism, to avoid from outright spooking the draconic entity just yet.
Did other guards catch sight of him upon his descent? Only time would tell-- Until then, a voice of baritone graced Zaugrishak with the surprise of his presence.

" Have you now?" The voice was calm, lacking much fret as one of his stature was supposed to bare nigh such hostile setting...
"- And how would you have managed to do that?"
(Exovaryn "Voss" Haruke)

The hair on the back of the young warrior's neck began to stand as he heard another voice, one that rang out quite clearly against the otherwise silent and uncontested portion of the forest. He'd thought he was in the clear, though apparently his eagerness to proffess his victory had gotten the better of him and he hadn't checked the area as thoroughly as he should have. It was not without reluctance, a fleeting prayer that he was hallucinating, that he slowly got back up to his feet and turned to face Exovaryn.

He definitely wasn't imagining this. Before him loomed the ominous and eerily Harukean, the man whom he'd met only once before in passing, though in his wake he had left a trail of devastation. This was a man not to be triffled with or taken lightly. Though the other thing he remembered was how quick they were to react hostily, so he made no effort to reach for his blade as a forced smile spread across his face as he replied, trying to backtrack,

"Managed to do what, exactly? That whole Bastet thing? No, probably just some imposter! A soldier like me wouldn't be able to take on someone like her, not even with help!"

Insert internal screaming. All he could do was hope that word of this didn't leak to the West.
(Zaugrishak Taramak)

"I'm certain I heard you correctly." He proded, nigh seven feet tall he seemingly towered over most men, even drakanites-- Though from the aerial distance prior, height may've proven difficult to wage...
Upon his boots clasping with the earthern soil, the faint shudder of the earth under the weight of hundreds of coalesced masses.

This was the body of hundreds amalgamated into a single vessel: Absorbed by the Harukean to further evolve his figure nigh his own pervaded definition of perfection. With every reason to continue this growth and humanity-- Especially magus kindred being his preferred prey, he had -every- reason to comsume this drakanite without a second thought. However, he seemed to be toying with him...
Even when a single cry for the guards would've unleashed a swarm, if not a miniature army to his rescue.

" You mentioned Bastet... And now that you're babbling further, I can confirm that you're the Frostvallen from before, feigning loyalty to Byson to eventually claim royalty within Frostvale, am I not mistakened?" He began to approach, taunting one with his height, extreme display of muscularity... But should one have swatted their blade? The realization of taut flesh, nigh hardened to metallic resilience... Though, even now... It was not invincible nor impiercible.

" If not.... I can help you... I have every resource at my disposal to grant you the money... The power... The refuge... Anything you could wish for..."
(Exovaryn "Voss" Haruke)

 Zaugrishak curled in his lip as the mysterious stranger reaffirmed what he had just said, deny any allegation of him being misheard. He could have tried to continue to deny it, though it would have done him no good, so he simply nodded once to confirm that he was indeed the drakanite that he remembered, but their approach led him to take a few steps backward toward the bridge that lead back to Byson.

However at the possibility of gaining the Harukean's aid, he paused. Just as he'd had dealings with Iowoiruhm which had to be kept to little more than whispers, there was no doubt in his mind that any association with this man would need to be an absolute secret, kept even from Merek and Azkadelia for the time being.

"That's correct, I am from the mountainous outskirts of Frostvale originally and have sworn my fealty to Byson temporarily. Though once the war is over, and the greater threat dealt with, I do plan on making moves against it's current ruler and become the Sacra Draconis of the frozen city."

His fingers twitched uneasily, and he faught the urge to have his hand dart over to the hilt of his blade as he continued curiously,

"Though I have a question about where your aid would be coming from for such an endeavor. Would association with you bring the wrath and swords of the Whitecloaks crashing down upon me? Would I be hunted like a dog, or treated as an inferior and used as a pawn at your disposal for your own goals? Because if that is the case, I'd rather not have the largest military in all of Valmasia that doesn't belong to any particular city breathing down my neck. I've already landed myself in enough hot water with them for 'consorting' with a yokai."
(Zaugrishak Taramak)

"The Whitecloaks are a pestilence that are soon to be eradicated... I nearly captured Demeter once... I lost Hibiki in the war... And encounters with Nasargiel and Katiel Melym have proven agitating... I've even nearly consumed both Sigrid and Bastet alike... However, they keep managing to get away... Slipping through my fingers... Fleeing before I have my chance... They won't get away again. I'll erase them all... One...by... one..."

A faceless force seemingly possessed at the physicality of the drakanite, prying him from the earth and away from the city's bridge.
Exovaryn had taken notice of his attempt to escape into the city should their encounter go south and he hadn't any intent to allow such. "You will bear witness to their destruction... Or join them..."
Telekinesis attempting to capture Zaug and toss him further for the forests...
Whether he'd make a break for it, or cry out for the guards for assistance was up to him-- Exovaryn wasn't commiting to any malignant intent... Not yet...

" Do not attempt to prattle about whilst I'm talking to you, human."
Ebonic hues sought to pierce the facade one may've mised towards him, breaking down every syllable that sputtered past his lips.
" You want to become the current ruler? Then if such, cowardice will only guarantee your failure. Don't you wish to prove a strong, potent leader? Is that not how your draconic pride operates? How could any prove you akin to the dragons your people praise, if you can't simply stand against the very oppressing forces you dub 'Whitecloaks'... Are you insinuating that the once 'great' dragons of Valmasia, are naught but dogs in the face of cloaked individuals praising a false god?"

The condescending was blatant, but with purpose; striking not directly upon Zaugrishak, but upon his goals based on his fears...
"... If you doubt your own power... Then I can give you more to bolster your confidence. My resources are expansive... Do not underestimate me..."
(Exovaryn "Voss" Haruke)

 Bold and confident words dripped from the Harukean's mouth like honey from the tip of one's tongue, if this man was as powerful as he said he was and truly had such a track record, they could prove to be quite a feather in his cap when it came to waging his own personal war against both Danarium and Frostvale. For a brief moment he was mesmerized by such boasts, and that was all it took for him to fall prey to their invisible grasp lifting him up and tossing him backward through the woods.

Though he was a nimble young man, so he simply rolled across the ground and used his momentum to rise back to his feet once more, rather than continue to skid across the ground. However with that little show of force, and unwillingness to bend even slightly to comfort him, his hand swiftly moved over to the hilt of his blade. Though he had not drawn quite yet, the words that continued to roll off his tongue were still quite entrancing, and he hung on each of them.

He wasn't so quick to forget what he'd said before though, and that was taken into consideration as he contemplated his offer for a few seconds before speaking,

"And why is it that you would wish to help me? The last time we spoke, I remember that you said something very similar about Ryujin being a diety that has abandoned our people and unworthy of our worship. Why would you wish to help place me upon the throne, when you consider me little better than the Whitecloaks worshipping their false idol?

I do not doubt my own power, nor the power of our people. Ryujin has blessed us all with immense strength, and I intend to rise as the pillar and epitome of one who has received such a powerful boon from our lord. Though I am intrigued by what it is you offer. What sort of power is it that you can offer me, and what is it you want in exchange?
(Zaugrishak Taramak)

"Make no mistake... In my eyes... You're still naught but merely human. I do not believe in the existence of Ryujin any more than I do of Kraus. To me, they're both false... Both mere fallacies made in an excuse to explain something the human race could never concieve. It simply surpasses their means of comprehension, thus they come up with such frivilous explanations... This very means of understanding is, ironically dubbed 'Humanism'... Literature, proven even from fellow Valmasians-- Clearly insinuating that not all Valmasians are doomed to ignorance."

He was blunt, and seemed callous... Seemingly contradicting the worth implied prior--
"Albeit... In comparison to the so-called Krausites... People that would hunt and genocide ilk much like my own for no reason aside from their own sadistic pleasures in pleasing their carnal urges for bloodshed and violence... People that would erase any and all remotely related to the transmundanic artistry regardless of reasoning...

I'd consider your kind worth... Sparing... I can co-exist with ilk such as yourself... Considering you're not hellbent on eradicating my kind from existence. In such instance, I'll support your growth and aid you to attain your goals if it means your reverence to my kind." He didn't need to prod further for further hints nor clues-- It was clear to him now: Zaugrishak was piqued in interest.

" The power I offer requires the mettling of my influence upon your mana circuitry... The end result, is an amplification of your magical prowess... For a portion of your mana sacrificed to me. I will... Overclock your circuit, for a price. "
(Exovaryn "Voss" Haruke)

The young drakanite's lips curled into a snarl as he was once more referred to as 'naught more than a human.' There was only one other person who had the audacity to address him in such a fashion, and she was one of the people whom he wanted to grind into the dirt more than anyone else. Just as she had insulted his ancestry and faith, so too did this man, and his rage boiled within him as if Ryujin's breath were stoking the flames of his fury.

As his sword was drawn from it's scabbard, the sound of it's steel clashing against it's sheath sang out through the forest, though it was allowed to rest at his side, for now. His rage had caused a very temporary lapse in judgement, though he felt no need to rectify it, if they wanted to perceive strength, he was going to let them see that he wouldn't simply allow anyone to speak to him however they wished, not without consequence.

And his tone was a clear reflection of his rising anger, the words that he spoke were uttered in a low growl,

"Do not ever address me as human. I am a pure blooded drakanite, the pinnacle of our race, and one who is close to attaining Ryujin's highest gift, the ability to ascend to the form of a dragon. I may not wish ill upon you simply for existing as those Krausite zealots do, but my anger can be invoked quite easily.

Your offer is enticing, though from what I can gather, it means that I will be subservient to you. I will not trade one lord for another. I will rule Frostvale as a proud drakanite warrior, whose legend has been forged in battle by the strength of his sword arm, or I will not rule at all. I will not serve as anyone's puppet."
(Zaugrishak Taramak)

" You're the only one claiming yourself to be a puppet... I merely offer you power in favor of a portion of your mana... Though, you seem paranoid of such." Eyes eventually badger themselves to scour one's choice of weaponry. Oddly enough, it struck no means of worry from his person...
" Put your toy away... It is useless against me. Especially when there is only one of you. " Such was stated with a dismissive sway of his hand, lacking much faith in one's capability to carry out the endeavor.

" I've taken on entire villages in the past... Throwing your life away here will get you nowhere." He warned.
There was a stern silence, simply leaving him to await Zaugrishak's next course of action.

" Now, would you admire aid in your endeavor? Or would you rather go on to your lifestyle as naught more than a cohort in Valmasian society? Odds are, the Whitecloaks will purge you too, for your transgressions against their settled secondary home nestled within Frostvale, if I recall correctly. If you haven't perished to the very monarchy itself."

"A portion of your mana... For power..."
A voice nigh pivoted one's attention, leaving a duet of ebonic optics to focus on upon an alabaster haired man in the brush... But no action just yet. There wasn't reason to acknowledge an eavesdropper in this scenario-- He had nothing to hide.
(Exovaryn "Voss" Haruke)

Despite the commands of the Harukean, Zaugrishak did not do as he was told, and his blade remained in a restful position, it's tip scraping against the ground beside him. There was no doubt in his mind that the man was exaggerating his power, very few held the ability to stand against entire cities, and his strength had grown enormously over the passing of time. Could he stand against a legion..? No. Though he could cut one hell of a path through the infantry, his own confidence remained resolute.

However that moment of rage that had consumed him was now over, and after a long, deep breath, he continued much more cordially, "The Whitecloaks will be removed from Frostvale in good time. I'm hoping to make a deal with Johannes to root them out of our city and relocate them to a place where they are more fitting. I doubt that any of them truly desire to stay within such an unforgiving place anyway, especially not with it's general populace worshipping Ryujin.

Though it will be our strength, the gift bestowed unto us by Ryujin, that will decide our battle. Not the sorcery of a mortal man. Your offer is kind, though I cannot help but feel there will be strings attatched, and I would rather pass. My power is mine, and I don't want to give even a fraction of it to you."
(Zaugrishak Taramak)

A sigh escaped his lips... He had managed to exhaust the last of his patience. There was no more reason to further prod at this individual too stubborn to accept his offer-- Instead, he'd condone to a secondary option.
" I see... A disappointment indeed. You could've been the first of many to have excelled beyond your kind and yet you refuse... In such circumstance, I suppose I'll simply have to make use of you in some other manner."

In a callous, blatantly underwhelming approach... He came, step by step...
It didn't matter to him that the drakanite's sword was risen nor that hostilities were likely to ensue should he have gotten too close. He didn't care for his antics any more, and even less for interferrence, whether it'd be another magi or an entire platoon of soldiers aiming to take him down.

" I'm going to... Open your mind... Drakanite."
He was getting closer... Soon to encroach upon striking distance and without any means of defense, it would've been incredibly easy for one to swipe for his neck region. Even with toughened skin, a magi's strength behind a well-designed blade could easily behead one as foolish as a Harukean... Right?
There couldn't be anything more to this... Or could there?

Perhaps such rhetoric lacked substance to back it up... Merely babble without hope to amount to anything... Could a single man ever amount to a small village? No, it -had- to be false, a fallacy, a lie...
Though, it'd only take a swing to disprove it should such be so...
Just a single swing to behead him, and evade a potential threat and scuffle altogether...

Before he could come any further....
But could one do it?
(Exovaryn "Voss" Haruke)

Apparently people weren't very keen on denial, though the disappointed words of the Harukean meant little to him. His offer would likely have enticed him in his younger days, when even yokai were consorted with, though age and experience had grown the virtues of his behavior, and it was no longer so. When the man's threats came, accompanied by his approach, the young warrior no longer stood idle.

Around the entirety of his right arm, the first layer of the ifrit's claw technique formed, a swirling vortex of wind. As it's howl filled the air, his smirk grew, and from the tips of his fingers came a raging stream of fire which spiraled around his arm, pushed to move even more swiftly by the torrential winds that shielded his arm from their heat within. Though when the fiery vortex moved to envelope his blade, that was when he charged into battle, letting loose a bone chilling battle cry.
(Zaugrishak Taramak)

There was no reaction towards unveiling of the Ifrit's claw technique-- No true care for the matter. He had seen others like it, maybe not of the same element... But considering the fact that the elements seemed to all prove malleable to one another and could be boiled down to a science, why did he have to bother badgering his mind with the matter? In the end, it was just another execution of magical prowess that would be overpowered by his own capabilities.

There was no smirk upon his face... Merely pure stoicism, devoid of any remote lusts for the pending scuffle. "This is merely a waste of time. You were better off calling for the guards..."

One's right hand oozed of the onyx substance dubbed Mortis, soon blackening the exterior of his flesh and armor alike to break its physical stature down. Within seconds, flesh and armor alike would transmogrify into a tangible freeform of Lyperion Utovex, terraforming anatomy to something of further use to this battle in particular: A mockery of Sacrifice-- A pseudo Malpercian arm crafted of Lyperion Utovex, dawning its original properties rather than its falsified facade.

Fingers elongated into monstrious talons mean't to challenge blade edges and apparel... It was unlike any ordinary hand, palms sized up to clutch the commoner's head in their reach. " In your current state, resistance is truly futile... Though, I suppose it matters not. I'll entertain myself my toying with you in the meantime. Perhaps others will rush to your aid..."
(Exovaryn "Voss" Haruke)

Step after step...
It was naught but a walkthrough... A walk that pained him to a threshold he'd clutch tightly beneath the surface. Armor was growing torn and apparel ashen-- Flesh gashed and bruised from the numerous strikes mised upon his figure albeit he'd sustain the casual pace althroughout. He hardly seemed troubled when concerning his visage's expression although worsening condition upon the battlefield contradicted such notion.

Was he not on the fringe of succumbing to the force of gravity vying for his knee's intimacy to the earth? He physically appeared as such..
A knee dove in for Zaugrishak's stomach, cased in the Mortis symbiote to omit the singe of pyromaniacal manipulation. The sheer impact reverberated through one's physical form to momentarily outdent at his backside, rupturing at his spinal region and siphoning him of his breath.

" There is a strong difference between you and I, Drakanite. " He was standing upright, with his transformed hand resting upon the pureblood's head, sizable digits weaved through his hair. " I can take your hits, blow for blow... and I'll regenerate... My anatomy will be unscathed by time this battle's end." As he said such, the fingers exercised stern grasp, picking the pyromancer up with a single arm, subtly siphoning away at his circuit through their physical contact, regenerating before his very eyes!

Wounds zipped sealed and bruises were soon to omit, all whilst said damages were invoked upon the Taramak's vessel instead, degenerating him in reverence. The searing pain of the bone-chilling materialization of malice corrupting beyond his soul, but to the flesh aimed to possess the man entirely.. Though, the curse would not hold.

"Though, to ensure some smidgeon remnants of your pride are left intact, I'll do you a favor... For the remainder of this scuffle, I won't even use my hands."
With that, his fingers released him, allowing him to fall in a slow-motion-- Intense focus and cosmogonically enhanced speed allowed a full spin into a kick driven into his abdomen, sending him spiralling off into the forestry northbound...

From there on in, he'd hover... awaiting further resistance, should it prove applicable.
(Exovaryn "Voss" Haruke)

Sweeping arcs of blade and fiery gale alike tore at his foe, while their own plethora of magical assaults tore at his own body. Even as his foe's armor blackened and was sliced open, his blade passing through their flesh as if it were butter and spilling their blood, it simply wasn't enough. The Harukean's endurance was unlike anything else he'd ever seen, clearly this wasn't his first time at the rodeo, and the experience that they had was the clear advantage that he held over the two of them...aside from the overwhelming force that he wielded.

Though his might was not simply mystical, there was physical prowess at Exovoryn's disposal as well, and a final knee to his gut was enough to make the young warrior temporarily drop his blade as he reeled in pain. As they spoke to him, their wounds already regenerating with whatever black magic that the Harukean commanded, the drakanite's fiery glare turned up to meet their eyes and lingered as his lips curled into a snarl as they made their boast.

The flaming gale flared in both brightness and heat as more of his mana poured into both the winds that shielded his arm and the flames that twisted around them, and his sword was snatched up from the ground as he simply charged back into battle.
(Zaugrishak Taramak)

A sidebound kick forced the Drakanite hurdling through the forests, crashing into a tree, where would would rest, planted until the image of Exovaryn would flash before their perception once more. A heaved foot punched one's head through the bark of his one's embedded place upon the trees and shattered it at its base, toiling him through it for a barrage of kicks that'd follow. By now, he'd suspect Zaugrishak to have recovered up to his feet via nimble physique, but it wouldn't save him from the number of kicks that'd follow.

A sword was caught by a rising foot, flailing it off for the side where it'd stab into a nearby tree. What would follow would be harassment through a flurry of kicks that wouldn't badger one's hopes to cease... Until!
A reared foot swept horizontally, mean't to cleave away at one's ducked head, outright shattering a tree's side into a rain of woodchips. Flames cooked up, forcing him to ascend higher... Only to engage in a flip that'd result in his back facing the Drakanite...

He could make a run for him whilst his back was turned! Though, the sword was still some distance away... Maybe he could make a run for that instea-...
Something seemed to protrude from his backside! Towards the lower spinal region, the same ebony symbiotic subtance that terraformed his arm prior elongated into an instance bearing semblence to a serpent... No, a tail!
It stretched out to whip around one's neck, fastening about the esophagus to collapse it, only to snatch him up for the air and rapidly draw him in close behind him-- Pivoted so that his back lined with Exovaryn's... Close enough to hear what words he had to speak.

" At this rate, I don't see much hope in victory for you... Even now, I'm hardly nigh the peak of my capacity... Had I been fighting you outright in full form and power, odds are you wouldn't have lived this long." The conjured tail of Lyperion Utovex tightened its grip, choking the man out and bringing to hardening of veins upon the neck and visage regions: Reddening flesh, loss of breath, pumping blood ceased of its flow...
With incrementing pressure seemingly churning akin to an aged wooden door's creak.

"The real question is... Should I bother using full power on you to grant you an accurate depiction of my capability? Or simply entertain you with a longer session... I haven't any qualms either way, in the end, you will be coming with me."
He gave it few seconds of thought, though for one constricted in such matter it could've been compared to minutes, daring to kill him outright should he have not remembered his suffering.
The coiled tail would release its pressure, allowing one the ability to breath... But only after a brisk swat over to the side, forcing him to roll and toil for yards at a time...
(Exovaryn "Voss" Haruke)

As the young warrior was forced through the trunk of a tree, from the force of one kick, he let out a scream of pain as his body slammed against it. Though he was not the type to be so easily deterred, and before the fallen tree could crush him, the drakanite had rolled out from underneath it's growing shadow and had risen to his feet once more. Though he wasn't met with a respite from his pain, but an extension of it.

Before he could even swing his blade, it was kicked from his grasp and flung into a nearby tree, plunged deeply into it. There wasn't time to reach for it, so he simply had to fight with what he had. However that was more easily said than done, a constant barrage of kicks impeded his progression, and it wasn't long before he was sent skidding across the ground once more. It was evident that they were toying with him, especially as they turned their back on him.

His lips curled into a snarl as he dashed through the woodlands toward where his sword rested, though before he could reach it, a shadowy tendril had emerged from within Exovaryn and was wrapped around his neck, once more jerking him toward the Harukean, and blindly to add insult to injury. The warrior's armored gauntlets clawed at the ground, scraping away the top layer of dirt, in an attempt to break free of his bondage, yet to no avail. Only when he was close enough to hear the infuriating words he spoke was he released, though only to be swat aside as if he were a common house fly.

A single hand was raised to rub his throat as he gasped for air, choking more often than not, and all the while slowly making his way back up to his feet. He had clearly bitten off more than he could chew, but the virtuous often did. All he could try to do at this point is survive, and he damn sure couldn't do that without a weapon. Before he'd make his response, he dashed over toward the stagnant weapon and wrapped the fingers of one hand around it, and his palm against the trunk. As he wrenched it free, he shouted his response,

"Whether you fight me at your full strength or not," He grunted as his sword was retreived, of course sending the warrior stumbing backward a few paces from the awkward amount of force necessary to pry it from it's resting place, "doesn't matter to me!" He then turned to face the man once more and raised his blade, once more enveloping his arm in the combination of a howling vortex of wind and spiral of flames as he finished, "But I will not allow myself to fall so easily!"
(Zaugrishak Taramak)

Artious just had got done with a small nap yawning and going out for a hunt, then he spotted Exovaryn beating on a Drakanite, he had been unsure of what caused it, or why the fight was happening, all he knew was that this battle was happening and it was deadly to stay close too.

In the middle of the fight, while just seeing the start of it, he got somewhat shocked, He didn't know what would happen next in the Battle, or who was in the right, all he knew was that it was bad for Exovaryn so far.
(Artorias Weylyn)

At long last, the young warrior had some manner of success. The rage that he'd felt before once more came boiling back into his blood and fueled his berserk charge, letting out a furious battle cry as he did. Before he had even reached his adversary, he'd swung his blade in a wide arc, and in it's wake a powerful gust of flaming winds that stripped away movement and seared flesh came crashing toward him.

Though that was just the beginning of his assault, once the man had been caught off guard and showed a moment of vulnerability, he seized the opportunity. It was time to test just how quickly the Harukean's wounds would seal. For the next few seconds, the drakanite's blade did not stop moving. One slash was lead into the next as he twisted his blade around himself and utilized the momentum of the last to empower the next, and a final blow was struck after a quick spin to amplify it's power even further. Waves of fire and wind had naturally followed all of those strokes, and the last stroke of his blade was followed with an exceptionally potent gust.

The Harukean was forced to the ground for the first time in their fight, but he wasn't able to take the steps necessary to finish things here and now. Not because he had a moral obligation against killing, as many of the others who lingered in Byson did, but because he was exhausted from the effort. His chest heaved as he panted for air, taking the brief respite to catch his breath, rather than charge into battle right away against a vastly more powerful foe.
(Zaugrishak Taramak)

A pyre would remain where the Harukean would lay... Having been lacerated to stature that'd challenge the livelihood of any living organism and then set ablaze, it was more than comforting to the commoner that laid their eyes upon the scene. What was once such a terrifying presence was finally downed... Out for the count: Burning beyond stature of death...
Though, for a magi? It was more than unlikely...

Considering the capabilities he had exerted and the rhetoric he sputtered off, it'd only imply that this was a beginning, a prelude to something so much more vast. They hadn't even begun to dip into the depths of Exovaryn's reserves...
"Exhausted already?" A voice called out from beyond the conflaguration presumably incinerating at his flesh...

An innumerable quantity of acuminate prods tormented the mind of all those nigh and unfamilar with the occultic affinity, now suddenly assaulted with phantasmal possessions of the transmundane. Through such malignant presence resonated the static riddled channel that'd funnel through the casted artristry to produce an acoustic reverberation unique to only the targeted minds of those abroad: Telepathy, of the Yokai's arcane.

" The moment you rose your blade against me, you've forced this upon yourself. " From the burning flames, rose a single silhuoette... The damage regenerating at slowed pace thanks to the constant ebbing of the conjured blaze. He slowly paced out of the fires, soon commanding conflaguration of his own to ignite from the very fuels of his soul.

"You were better off calling for guards whilst you had the chance... Now, you've managed to test the threshold of my patience." Pooling from the slits in his flesh were the amorpheus droplets of the Mortis symbiote, adopting bouyant properties midst the ethernal flames that chilled at one's generated inferno.
(Exovaryn "Voss" Haruke)

Artorias had been to cocky in his range towards the fight, wanting to watch to close, then when they started to get knocked towards him, it didn't take long to for him to get taken down next to a tree to lay down. "Alright.....stay...the hell...away from the fights....got....it..." his head starting to move around slowly, he shook his head trying to get up, finding it quite hard.

The young pup shook off the pain, this wasn't the only time he got hurt from standing to close to a fight, He took a glance at the fight and saw that Exovaryn was on top this time "What did I miss in the fight?" he muttered to himself.
(Artorias Weylyn)

A fist crashed down upon Zaugrishak's face, coming down with impact sufficient to send a fissure through the poor man's skull. It provided a resounding cackle that'd torment ears with its grotesque nature...
Cosmic induced strength was amplified several dozen fold, mean't to outright shred through natural human flesh and bone alike-- The very magical hardiness of this specimen in particular had saved the pureblood's life alone...

... But that was only a single punch....
A second one dove for the stomach, snapping ribs akin to twigs, daring to puncture a lung as implied via the forced exsanguinization through his gaping maws, upon his shoulder...
" Do you understand... Why I hold back?"
He reared his fist from one's stomach to allow them even the faintest hope to breath. Their natural fall would be intercepted by a rising knee delved into the centre of the visage, indenting the nasal cavity and drawing strings of blood through the air his head flung across.

One's body was hurled for a short distance, only to be strung out by a raveling serpent of Lyperion Utovex: His 'tail', whipping him back only to slam him viciously into the earth at his side, forcing momentum to bounce him back upwards. As though stringing together a combo, he indulged his sadistic pleasures invoked by the vying clutches of the occultic arcane-- Amplifying his cosmic magics through occultism, and his own strength through the trifecta of gravitational influence to fluctuate the mass of a foot leading into a vertical kick, sped up by all three magics to catch Zaugrishak before he could have gravity's mercy and rest upon the soil.

He'd now be airborne, kicked off by the Harukean whom would now watch from far below... Out of physical reach... Finally, allowed for some semblence of rest to come upon the Drakanite.... Or so one could've hoped....
Flight was halted with the outreach of Exovaryn's right hand, ensnaring the man within his generated field of telekinetic manipulation, allowing him to remotely control his aerial positioning with the mere sway of his hand-- Thus, the translation of a dismissive swat would toil the back through forestry and brush alike, dawning a mushroom cloud of dust from the fall...

Exovaryn loved the very sensation of the brawl...
Whether it'd be against one... Dozens... Or Hundreds... It wouldn't make a difference. He was hovering at canopy's altitude over the resting place of Zaugrishak... Attempting to decipher whether the drakanite was dead or alive...
A pondering hum was aroused from his gullet, hardly concerning himself with one's worth, but rather considering whether it'd be most beneficial to outright consume him, or erase his vessel from existence.

" Have I broken you? Or are you still alive... Drakanite..."
(Exovaryn "Voss" Haruke)

Before his first swing had connected, the Harukean's fist came crashing into his face, the impact of the blow cracking his skull and sending him soaring through the air. There was no question that if he were not a magi, the blow would have cleanly gone through his head and there'd have been little more than splattered brain matter on Exovaryn's fist. Though that wasn't the end of his assault.

A second punch tore through his ribs and plunged through the flesh that the shattered bones ripped open, a scream of pain escaping from the drakanite's lips as his head was thrown back in utter agony. Yet even this was not enough to sate their bloodlust, their knee came crashing into his face, sending spurts of blood gushing from his nose, and even more was forced down his throat.

As the young warrior reached the height of his unwanted flight, he looked weakly toward the sun, a representation of flame, of Ryujin, and reached out toward it, but as his assailant ensnared him and ceased his fall, his hand naturally jerked downward, popping his shoulder out of place with a loud snap filling the air. Though his descent wasn't put on hold for long, and with exceedingly more speed and force behind the blow, his body made contact with the ground and sent a massive plume of dust and debris up into the air, simultaneously expelling the blood that had been pooling in his lungs.

However from the moment that he'd struck the ground, his eyes had rolled back into his head, only the whites revealed to the Harukean, and the only indication that there was any life energy coursing through him was the idle twitching of his fingers.
(Zaugrishak Taramak)

"Perhaps... On the verge of death... Such feeble creatures." He looked down upon the Drakanite, slowly lowering himself down to his fallen figure, landing just next to him... Staring down upon him...
How easy it would've been to simply consume of him and be on with his day... How satisfying it would've proven... But was that what he was here for?
" . . . If I leave you like this. . . You will die." He admitted, regardless of his conscious ability to comprehend such. " Which means, I could consume you to prevent you from going to waste..." He knealt down, bringing a hand down for the Drakanite's face with a reverted hand.

"However..." The Harukean's hand rested upon a fallen Zaugrishak's face, " Perhaps, you can prove... Useful..." He babbled, still dangerously close to Byson and callous to the realization of such. " Your life as a foolishly prideful Drakanite ends today... You will be reborn through me. If not through my gullet... Through my blessing unto you..." The symbiote transmogrified nails into talons that bored into flesh and bone to successfully constrict one's visage, keeping them from moving even unconsciously without his permission.

Penetration through the organic blades injected an alien substance into the pureblood's anatomy...
Vanus, a mana siphoning reagent that acted akin to a fuel to the implemented Mortis symbiote, creasing the layer beneath the skin to eventually pool at the site of the fractured skull and numerous other openings upon one's body. Mana reserves were slowly being ebbed away from both parties, albeit something miraculous seemingly occured before Artorias' eyes!

Vermillion streaks of static gattled about the non-Harukean... Seemingly... Regenerating? It was as though, he too had managed to- even if temporary through Exovaryn's physical contact, regenerate! Albeit, it was miniscule, highly focused upon the crucial damage proving endangering upon his skull.

One's hand was removed... But the symbiote would be allowed to rest within the Drakanite's body, searing at it even now... Chilling him to the bone, torturing him from inside with its constant consumption of both circuit and flesh at such diminutive quality.
"Now... With your life dependent on it... You're coming with me." He rose up to his feet once more, spawning forth naught but a single tendril of Lyperion Utovex from his backside to sweep down to weave about his physical stature until he was bundled together and held off to the side to allow him to focus on other tasks... Like acknowledging Artorias' presence.

" As for you... " He stated, watching him intently...
" Continue onward with your task... Prove yourself worthy..."
(Exovaryn "Voss" Haruke)

Artorias Nodded as he saw what he was doing "Y-yes Lord Exovaryn." The Pup let out a Glup as he didn't think that he was going to talk to him. Getting ready to go back into Town before his hunt even began, he had hoped to find out what he could in the fastest way he could.
(Artorias Weylyn)

As the Harukean plunged his hand into his open chest cavity and began to work his sickly magic, the drakanite warrior began to convulse as it's twisted magic went to work. There were definitely benefits, such as his skull mending and an otherwise untimely death avoided, though his entire body was wracked with immense pain as it did. Searing heat and freezing cold were just two of the sensations that stirred Zaugrishak from his unconsciousness, forcing his pained screams to once more escape from his throat. However his awakening was brief, and the last thing that he saw before slipping back into his vulnerable state was the tendril of dark energy slithering across the ground and wrapping itself around him.
(Zaugrishak Taramak)

Rested upon a workbench, a bloodied drakanite would lie...
Here, the shady background businesses of the Tuboxen Company worked hand-in-hand with the Tenebrae Imperium. To the Drakanite's dismay, he had run into it's leader...
Dragged into the very core of their operations-- Now, surrounded by thousands of yokai for miles... All of which, seemingly aligned to this one man.

Did he manage to do this without Byson's knowledge? And how? Questions were not something at the drakanite's leisure as of now, especially with an operation underway. "I can't have you dead... That'd defeat the purpose in sparing you. No... I've been curious of the humanoid anatomy for far too long."
An open abdominal cavity had his attention... Likely something that was to be tended to, immediately...

Posted on a nearby wall, was an Aegis soldier, hung by his wrists lain ontop of one another, punctured by a broadsword sunken into the stone pillar behind him to keep him suspended. The draping streaks of sanguine rolled down his arms, to drip off his elbows, if not streak through his clothes to roll off their shoes or stone material that the constantly scraped at in a futile means to escape.

This man... Was not alone...
There was another aegis soldier for every pillar. Design? Perhaps, to drive a point, but more rather for fodder to siphon from for instances such as this. The serpents of Lyperion Utovex unveiled from Exovaryn's backside, reaching up for the four corners of the immediate scene, prodding through the armor of the aegis via their sharpened barbs, soon to siphon away at their life force.

Using four akin to his battery, he could apply occultic theoretics to divulge their consumed matter into a homonogized matter, regenerating another through degenerating himself, and canceling out said degeneration through the degeneration of four others to bolster his own regeneration. Open wounds would be mended, deadly punctures sealed...
Though, not done by Exovaryn himself, a cultist would forcibly lock the drakanite here by tied chain against the leg of the workbench, and nearby ball-weight.

There was no Adamantite here... But there were plenty of magi and yokai, enough to keep any unaligned fearfully inside, or fearfully away...
"For now, you rest here... The Mortis symbiote should keep you stable... However, should I not return in time to remove it, it will consume you from the inside out. Though, that will take time..." With that said, he departed for the northern part of the room, taking a seat upon a stood by a library wall... Just watching over him for the remainder of the passing hours.

The man that had locked the drakanite still idled within the area, watching over Zaugrishak: His own personal butler, there to ensure his well-being whilst Tuboxen and Tenebrae forces proved inept to his location.
"I will be back in time..."
(Exovaryn "Voss" Haruke)

The drakanite's eyes fluttered open briefly as Exovaryn made his statements, though when the dark tendrils pierced through the armor of his fellow Aegis Knights, his eyes widened out of horror as he saw what little of their life force was drained. However it wasn't exactly the worst thing for him. The Harukean was tearing wounds into himself in order to regenerate his flesh, but the degeneration was swiftly reversed by the aforementioned decrepification of the Aegis soldiers that were strung up throughout the hall.

Regardless, it wasn't necessarily the most painless process in all of Valmasia, so grunts and groans of pain naturally escaped from him as his wounds forcibly mended themselves, under Exovaryn's supervision of course, though not to entirety. He was left in a stable state, though the chains that kept him in bondage left much to be desired, a wise move on their behalf. As his captor left the room, there was little he could do other than struggle weakly, and futily, against his bonds.
(Zaugrishak Taramak)