Ancestral Wrath -Aiding the King-

[17:57] Ser Artaghh would listen with grim patience to the lich king's words, nodding idly as he looked about the gathered crowd with his remaining eye with an idle puff of his corn cob pipe. He'd wondered why such a ragtag assembly had been brought forth, as he doubted this was the day Arthur Rowan was going to take a sudden career path shift as an entertainer.

Sacrifice. That made more sense.

The knight's gaze would trail from disheveled prisoner to prisoner with a steady nod, lips pursed as he would uncurl his arms as his black armored frame ignited forth with the dense, rich mana of the spirit realm, his palms open and ready to give all he had for Dawn. They were long past the point of talk, the war and its aftermath had bled their home dry. Things had been bleak, and even Artaghh had occasionally found it difficult to keep his spirit.

But anything was worth it for their home.

"Fer king an' country, my energy is yours Lord Rowan. For the dawn."



(Artaghh)
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[17:57] For the drakanite, this was a huge moral dilemma. Her entire goal was to protect the innocents of Agartha. The ones who did nothing wrong. These people exactly. If she didn't help, she'd be labelled a traitor. They'd take her brother and use him to break her, then do the same to her. She had to protect him, and that required going along with this plan.

She fought hard to keep the tears back. She knew what she had to do. She just had to await the instructions. Her expression turned stony; she was doing what she could to lock off her emotions. She had to protect Inari.

Every last scrap of available mana she had was ready for the ritual, and she'd begin sending it over once ready, taking deep breaths to try and calm herself.
(Arlei Therus)
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[17:57] Arthur Rowan whispers something.
[17:57] Arthur Rowan whispers something.
[17:57] She smiles wickedly, sharp canines rarely on full display shown. It looked feral, it was the same grin that had scared Schrei into hiding in Huangzhou for a decade, that made those who removed her arm hide from her aswell, it was the smile of a monster.

The Lich King had been mostly absent from recent affairs and it showed, immortalized but weakened in his current state. A return of Arthur Rowan to his full strength if not stronger could be what Dawn needs.

Her daughters whisper reaches her ears, she taps a button on the remote the collar falling off only to float to the Nagual's side and remain.

She gives the Lich King a nod,

"Of course Arthur."

The Nagual seems to explode with power as the amber of her irises consume the whites as the Spirit's mana is called upon. She didn't dare try to release Ixchel's, likely was not the best idea for a Necromantic ritual.

The sheer amount was intense, the mana of a powerful magi, and the mana of an immortal Spirit capable of fending off multiple of Dawn's best to only gain a mere scratch.

It coalesces before her, ready to be used when needed.
(Jessi Ultovex)
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[17:58] Aldrah honestly thought that this would be a simple announcement, an explanation of more plans of the Lich.. But quite the opposite, because this was going to be a great ritual! Amazing!

Clearly it was noticeable that this ritual that Arthur wanted to effect, was something like the one which three necromancers were needed to perfect an undead.. But this one on a large scale. Once again Aldrah could perform this kind of ritual, something simply rewarding.

He smiled, rising, making the ice chair melt, if anything was to happen there, he would have to be serious.

A nod had been made by the necromancer to Arthur. Then a finger snapping and undeads starting to approach, one bringing Thanatos, Aldrah's sword and others just getting close to him.

The necromancer had an idea of what to do, he would give not only part of his mana, but also that of his servants! Clearly they could not refuse, where as Aldrah gave them a second chance, now he would take it from they! A great irony. Which he just did not care about.
(Aldrah Leverd)
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[17:58] Hoppy says, "but no..."
[17:59] Amusing..

Even with such overwhelming power, he still needed the help of so many powerful magi. Even so, Zariel was the strongest amongst the ones standing, or at least he thought himself so..

Who better to aid than himself, the legendary Zariel..

Bursting out in laughter, he'd say, "How interesting..

I'm very amused, very well.. You shall have my aid, Arthur.." The moment he spoke their name, his form would explode with an occult geyser..

Still hovering in the air, he'd take a step forward, making himself known as one who aided Arthur in his ascension.

"Have it all." He'd say, manifesting every form of occult magic he wielded.

Mortal

Accursed

Umbral

Archon

All of it was poured into one sphere of multi-hued dark magic. Holding it up rather casually with one hand, he'dwait for the ritual to begin.
(Zariel Daigal)
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[18:00] All he really needed was their aid? That was simple enough really. Their lives didn't seem at risk or anything of the sort. He just needed their mana it seemed to help with all this after his prisoners were slain for the betterment of his home.

"I don't see much harm in helping, long as it helps my home really."

He knew that people were planning on trying to harm his home. They had already made strikes in his short few years outside of his parents houses. He didn't want to see it fall or see bad things happen to his friends and family.

He'd be willing to try and prevent that by helping the place progress in what ways he could from inside the city. He wasn't allowed to leave it after all.
(Jun Ultovex)
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[18:00] A small figure placed itself behind Feth. Surprisingly quiet, but not out of shyness or fear, but instead, due to amusement and interest.

Hazel eyes followed the march of the slaves, their fate was obvious, and Hoppy could only wait.

Needless to say, she had no real idea about what to do to aid in the ritual, her own abilities with mana being a tad to shallow to be of any aid� But she'd nod enthusiastically anyway!

But it was evident that she was more interested in the slaves and whatever happened to them, than the actual ritual.
(Hoppy)
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[18:01] Dogslayer takes in a deep breath, tasting the salty air of Dawn. He takes another, and flames start to roar around him. He starts muttering various short prayers and litanies to mankind's Lord and savior, Azrael. The flames grew more intense as he channeled his mana, being a strong magi and one of Dawn's paladins. He thought back to all the times he had to draw upon this deep well of willpower - when his arm was cut off, when he'd torn a man in half onboard a burning frigate - and then he was ready.

It was time to wait. He wanted to see those slaves die.
(Dan Dogslayer)
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[18:02] Something of this premise- It resonated within the creature's very bones. Kerafym had been a monster, before it was turned into this comparatively tiny voidling. An energy-devouring beast who feasted upon the souls of great heroes. Or their spirits. Or something like that.

Not that Mertaisyl knew any of that.

So it didn't understand the feeling of deja-vu. It didn't know why the idea seemed so familiar. Yet it was eager to assist, eager to dip its claws into such energies. So eager, in fact, that cerulean light flickered to life around the creature's form.

Across its horns. Over the bones of its wings, and the leathery membrane stretched between. Over its chest, and wrapped through jagged teeth. Interwoven lines of cerulean, tainted with the violet tones of occult.

It shifted. A pace, two, and it stood next to Clara rather than behind. Another moment and it coiled back, pushing itself up to stand upon its hind legs. Its tail acted asa counter-balance, its wings half-furled to keep steady. It offered no words nor acknowledgement of his beyond the display, as it towered over the crowd by a few feet.

Like a bear when it stood, it appeared so much larger upright.
(Mertaisyl)
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[18:02] "I am."

The boy would voice his support and take a step forward without hesitation. His leylines beginning to glow a faint green in activity. Assisting them at this time would mean more than anything yet.

A feather of a fallen angel which seemed familiar. Slaves of the other nations standing without the will to resist anymore in their broken states. All of the others willing to give their aid nearby. Civilians watching their example.

Rieka enshrouds his person as the others step up to ready their mana. His on full display for the others to see. Bright and full of vitality in it's current form. Waiting to give.

And though he knows that this would be for a meaningful cause, he's curious of what they'd all exactly be used for. Wondering what progress would be made.
(Feth Vishkar)
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[18:02] It's a wonder she's able to hear the Adjudicator over all the other noise, but somehow his voice stands above the tide of paradoxical ear-shattering murmurs.

The first place she looks to, other than the King, is towards Artaghh. He's a source of guiding influence in this time of relative uncertainty, though her oath was very, very clear.

Everything for Dawn, in life and after. The bald knight echoes this and she does her best to follow suit.

She focuses, for all she's worth, but all the ceaseless muttering that fills her ears only makes it difficult. Her eyes screw shut and Ardith channels her mana as best as she knows how.

A vortex of wind begins to shift around her, the currents and gusts tainted a sickly purple. The mutter is louder and louder; she's so sure her ears are going to bleed, but she keeps it up anyway, offering all she has for the command.

Ardith can hardly go backing out of her oath this soon.
(Ardith)
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[18:03] Hoppy says, "u wu"
[18:03] As the collar fell off her neck, Clara nodded before she spoke up. A hand placed itself gently upon Mertaisyl's side; comforting.

"I will also help," She declared. Inky black water coalesced about her form now, being summoned by the Necromancer herself.
(Clara Ultovex)
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[18:03] The Lich King called for a contribution of mana. Not so long ago, Eryn would have refused, the sheer amount of sacrifices arrayed in front of the crowd enough to dissuade her. But then she'd been Knighted. But then Levengard had attacked the fort. But then Locran had died. The drakanite raised a hand towards the Lich King, and let her mana free, donating as much as it took -without killing herself, of course.

Anything that the master of Necromancy wished to do with the ritual would be unlikely to be good for Levengard, and that was enough for her to be willing. Quite enough indeed.
(Eryn Evanstere)
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[18:09] His ears pinned flat against his head as he watched the lich king. His sis gave her mana maybe he should to. The feminine nagual watching the others closely as something in the back of his mind was telling him to just give his mana to the Lich King. He didn't want to anger him by walking off and not doing anything but those slaves.

He swallowed hard and without uttering a single word he focused on giving the man what he wanted, mana. The teen giving up all he could without killing himself. This couldn't be as bad as the other time he had to give something right?
(Inari Blake)
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[18:09] Ascalon's emerald hues drifted across the prisoners as King Rowan spoke. Each and every one of them seemed old, worn out, they'd been captured long ago. Before she'd even been born, and yet they existed only for this purpose.

Why? Why had they been kept around for so long. What life had they lived? She didn't know, but she knew what existence she'd face in another city. Among her enemies. Death. At-least these people where allowed to live their lives until now, right?

Finally, that gaze shifted upon the central piece of the ritual. Divine power, it was so vivid so close. Eyes narrowed at the sight of that single blackened feather. It was so familiar yet so distant. Surely not as fine as Azreal's own? Yet, so beautiful, so haunting.

With a blink they returned to the present, to the now. Dawn was at the brink and crumbling fast. Their enemies executed them every chance they got. Even now they where raided with impunity. Something had to change.

The pulse of reika, powerful, blessed, untamed coursed through the young teens veins. Their leye lines blasting to life as the supercharge mana of Azreal coursed to full display. Every ounce of what they where coming to boil.

They'd do what their family had always done. Serve Dawn. As their reika blasted and whirled about them they felt a sense of peace. As if they where being guided not only by their own mroals but the soft hand of those that came before.

A gaze drifted towards King Rowan as they waited. Perhaps, if the blessed Lich could complete this ritual, they could free themselves of the tyranny of their enemies.

"House Zanders answers the call for aid."

The words where spoken quietly, almost a whisper. They'd live up to the legacy of those who came before.


(Ascalon Zanders)
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[18:09] Then it's time to begin.

Seeing the agreement of majority- if not all- magi that he was capable of pulling here for the ritual, he was pleased; if he had lips to smile, he would - but beneath that mask with golden lines upon it, there was nothing. There was only a skull, a reminder to how much Arthur personally sacrificed to grant the second chance to many undead in Dawn.

Perhaps, getting this favour in return for his own suffering wasn't so selfish even.

A signal is given to the Undead Legion, and the first, short-lived yelp is heard amidst the crowd; the eyes of Lich King remain upon so many slaves, seeing into their lifeforce, their very souls with the powerful artefact that he retrieved, a mask that he wears, and his hand extends out. To onlookers? The crimson energy of lifeforce began to drip away from the body of the first slain slave, slowly moving closer to the ritual circle.

"Very well."

"Begin executing every slave."

The Undead Legion began to push every slave closer and closer to the center; one after another, a stab from sword, or spear, or even a dagger, and they began to die one after another. By dozens- just mere moments passed, and almost hundred already died. They were swift about it, disallowing the slaves to potentially escape - to some degree, panic broke out amidst those people, and they tried to flee. But to no avail.

The Legion was brutal, ruthless, without mercy.

One after another was slain, and the crimson, blood-like energy continued to flood towards ritual circle; Arthur kept his hand outstretched the entire time, no doubt gathering the energy. But... even after this Blood Harvest, there would be still plenty to do on top of that anyway- his eyes turned to the collaborators.

"Join in, then."

"Begin by channelling your energy into the circle. Follow my lead, and hold the crimson energy that makes it to the circle. Allow none to suddenly drip away."

A cacophony of death broke out. Cornered, pushed around as they were dying like flies in the summer, the slaves were butchered amidst the Undead Legion. None were allowed to escape, and none were allowed to live.

But for the gathered magi?
Their job was to harvest.
(Arthur Rowan)
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[18:16] Chad focuses his energies on the crimson energy that Arthur Rowan had called up. How very interesting that he was using this crimson energy. Irony aside, he concentrated entirely on using his powerful mana to grant the Lich king his desire.

"Take whatever you need the most Lich King."

The slaves start to get butchered and sacrificed and Chad cannot help but think on his first night of the crimson moon. Things were quite similar. Even the Crimson energy reminding him of something but he pushes it to the back of his head and meditates with his mana being used to control the crimson energy for the Lich King.
(Chad Padwick)
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[18:18]
She remains as the beacon within the darkness. The faint light within the blood moon - the one that causes silver veins within the sky to reveal itself amongst the gold constellations. The intent, however, is much more worse than what anyone could believe. The slow, all-powerful, unmoving presence of the dwarf-star, Proxima, could be felt by all within the region. Her pale, soft light...The mana that flourishes through her being and into the form of her husband. Together, she believes - together, she knows that all things are possible. Not through praise and worship, but blind faith.

It all comes at the stark price - of those that are living. Cold, draconic eyes are not sheltered from the slaying of natural enemies. Instead, it is the dragon's billow that desires more of them to falter. Unmuteable, rumbling - a half shifted woman promising pain and despair to all those that are enemy.

She is much more, so much more.
(Bei Rowan)
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[18:19] The flames around the man grew hotter and larger and soon thereafter he began to drip sweat. He had never once pushed himself this far before - seeing every last slave die at the hands of the Legion only furthered his deep desire to aid his undying king in this bloody ritual. His grimace turns to a smile as he sees the subhuman non-magi meekly go to their deaths, their blood staining the ground. Horrid, crimson energy began to flood towards the sigil. This was their destiny. They let this happen to themselves, he thought, and the way they allowed themselves to die, without putting up any sort of resistance, infuriated him.

The king asks his people to join in - he does. He takes in a deep breath and, for a brief moment, the flames overtake him, consuming his entire body. He focuses hard on the crimson energy, trying his hardest to make sure that none of it escapes the circle. Sweat pours off of him. He'd never gone this far before. He feels himself burning alive and only keeps going through sheer force of will, the need to see this ritual to completion.

He only hoped that he was helping.
(Dan Dogslayer)
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[18:19] The drakanites hands shook as she made her way over to the circle, her breath hitching regardless of the mask she tried so desperately to keep in place. It went against everything she believed in, yet she was compelled to assist. Not to help Arthur, but to show loyalty. To keep the ones she cared about safe.

She pressed her hands onto the circle, mixing with the mana of so many other magi. Pushing what she could muster into the ring. Wordlessly and quietly, keeping the ichor pure and contained.
(Arlei Therus)
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[18:19] Her mana is focused, condensed, prepared. Then it is fired into the circle, empowering it with the might of both beings being used in this.

As her full strength was summoned, blood began to leak from her nose. Falling onto the ground below, the price for not causing outright destruction when summoning her full power.

All she can spare is being used in the manner the Lick King described, holding the energy as best she is able to contribute.

The smell of the blood making it hard for her to focus... her mind trying to drift towards one thought.

food

(Jessi Ultovex)
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[18:19] She did as she was told the small girl began to channel her energy into the circle. Following the King's lead. She would hold the crimson energy towards the circle.
She would try her best to concentrate giving it everything she had but the last.

She smiled as the people died and were slaughtered like animals.
Oblivion was rather interested. Maybe they will find peace now.
(Oblivion)
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[18:21] The chaos of the ritual sparked endorphins within his brain, coupled by the enhanced negativity and blood lust of dark magic and the effects of his void plague. Zariel began to lose himself in the -fun-.

With a sadisitic and sinister grin stretched from cheek to cheek, the Daigal would lower his dark sphere into the ritual circle. This imbued it with the majority of his powers, but he still had more to spare.

Holding both hands out to gather the energy harvested and pouring it back into the circle. He'd keep himself focused enough to keep his side of the ritual stable and intact but he too wished to join in on the slaughter.

Soon his bloodlust would manifest itself in the form of shadowlings that oozed from his form and began to rip into the remaining slaves, tearing them limb from limb and screeching with joy as the slaves screamed in agony and fear before devouring some whole. Hopelessness and chaos was thick in the air, almost tangible even.

Once his emotions were sated, the shadowlings would fling themselves into ritual to provide it with even more power.

The occultist sclera turned black as his eyes glowed with glee. Whatever humanity he had left had already been tainted by the black.

(Zariel Daigal)
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[18:21] Ser Artaghh would watch the slaughter of the undead legion without a blink, refusing to look away from the grim necessity and cost of the preservation of their city. The knight had grown numb to it after so many years in Dawn, and yet he knew it would be cowardly and unrighteous still to look away. In a manner, these who sacrificed their lives to preserve Dawn's integrity were doing their own, unwilling service to the people. Paying the ultimate price to ensure another fresh dawn comes to their home.

They would be remembered.

The commander would nod firmly to his king's commander, placing his left marred palm over his right arm as he began to concentrate the flow of mystic mana through the fingers tips of his chosen conduit out with ethereal swiftness towards the ritual circle, joining his dense blue energy to the ceremony as he followed the instruction's of Arthur, making use of all his proficiency as an energy magi to aid in ensuring no drips, drops, or slivers of life juice could get away from their grasp.

Every last bit was required.

Beads of sweat would run down Ser Artaghh's forehead as he grit his teeth, exerting all of his trained reserves forth to not allow those slaves that had given their lifeblood to outshow his commitment to his city. He was a master energy magi, and no unnecessary ounce of his own lifeforce would be left behind. The knight had drained himself for far worse reasons, this was the least he owed to his city, and those who would preserve it.
(Artaghh)
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[18:22] It begins.

The ferocious undead begin their slaughter at the order of their king. Commotion caused in the cries of the imprisoned and bloodthirsty yells of citizens. Blood is shed and with it comes their essence to take. He'd watch without confliction in his eyes.

They were deaths that'd further the cause of his people.

He focuses on the flow of the enery coming from his body. Rieka channeled towards the circle as instructed to do. Crimson energy attracted to the ritual being kept inside while also giving his own. Pushing out his magical essence without restraint.

It causes the aura around him to begin to dim. Slowly drained by usage. Bright and lively before, it becomes hollow and without much form as times goes on. A slightly strained look on his face too. It took much from him, recently injured and all.

But he wouldn't stop. He wants to help to make up for his disappointment of before. Something he personally held in his mind.

The circle is fed with the Statue of Azrael watching over the process and those involved.
(Feth Vishkar)
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[18:23] Like serpents through the grass. Lines of the voidling dragon's cerulean mana coiled forward, slithering between those gathered amongst the crowd. Through the grass and air alike. It poured forth a massive portion of its own power, though a small bit of its attention was split.

The Adjucator had said to grow. To become more powerful, and larger still than it was already. Crystalline eyes remained focused on the circle, maintaining its own portion of the barrier to keep all that energy contained. But as it worked it lowered itself to the ground again. Claws touched down against stone.

And a few of those cerulean lines traced to the discarded bodies instead. One at a time, only the least decrepit of the lot. There wasn't much but skin and bones, yet skin and bones could always be repurposed.

Virulent breath covered the first. Flesh melted away into blackened ooze, bones cracked underfoot. All together it shifted as though with a mind of its own. It was slower, near agonizingly slow for all the attention it gave forth to the ritual, but still.

What was left- Tar-like ooze and shattered bone- slowly pooled toward its claws. It slunk up the creature's body, and joined its flesh. Adding on. Bit by bit. One little body, then another.

It had its own agenda, here. But aid was requested and aid was offered. What mana it could spare poured into the ritual.
(Mertaisyl)
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[18:23] She'd been warned. She'd been warned that the gathered people were going to be sacrifices, yet somehow seeing it is so vastly different from just being told what was about to happen.

Much like the voice of the King, the first piercing death wail cuts through the murmuring with brutal and terrifying clarity. The worst she'd ever witnessed was the butchering of chickens. This butchering was of an order of magnitude that was unfathomably greater.

Almost immediately she feels ill, more ill then initially, and she dry heaves as she channels her mana; but try as she might she can't look away, like a macabre train wreck right before her eyes.

The oath, that all important oath, keeps her from bringing up her lunch and turning tail the moment bodies start falling. People with families, loved ones, that led lives all their own...Her head feels as if it's going to split wide open from pressure.

Her oath keepsher bound in place, channeling mana until she can feel her head swim. When she grows dizzy she swears, almost swears she can finally hear something more distinct on the edge of her hearing, something other than gibberish. It gives her a new reason to concentrate on the decidedly dark and nefarious ritual.
(Ardith)
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[18:24] The slaughter would seem to begin as the mans army executed those that he had captured during his past efforts. Something he himself had no idea was. Though it must have been a lot of work to gather so many people and keep them all alive in such a state.

He'd begin to focus though as soon as they were instructed to, focusing his mana and sending it out towards the circle as the captives were slain. He could hear the screams of terror and pain though, he'd simply just focus on sending his mana.

Would this actually bother him in the future? Who knows. He was a kid despite it all but for now he had agreed to this and he would do what he could to help. Sending mana to the circle and pushing out as much as he could while he used his full power.

Even if it made him feel weak and tired after a certain point. That was a small price for things to advance.
(Jun Ultovex)
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[18:26] The electricity coursed through his veins as he continued to pump his mana to help this Lich King's cause. Sparks of energy starting to come off the boy as he focused on the circle. Oh he wanted to puke badly. He's never seen this many people killed before. Inari just closed his eyes once he saw the first blood splatter, blocking out their screams, trying to focus only on the circle.

Inari just kept telling himself mentally that they were out to kill him and his friends even if was basically lying to himself. His hands starting to shake as his mana was straining.
(Inari Blake)
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[18:26] Then it began, with a signal, the Lich's legion began to sacrifice the slaves. Magnificent.. Amazing, a beautiful sight indeed. A smile appeared on Aldrah's face as he slowly lifted Thanatos.

These rituals were always something beautiful to see, for during these, life come to a end and a new path become, a new future. An example of the end of the life, was the large number of people being killed, their energies, their souls being used for a great ritual of a single person, but all for the benefit of the future. Magnificent.

Well, coming back from his thoughts, it was time to start. Taking a deep breath, the necromancer began sending his energy to Arthur, for the ritual circle. He used his sword as focus to redirect to the desired location.

At the same time that he sent his energy to Arthur, Aldrah drained the energy of the undeads that served him, which had been called before. Their 'lives' being drained, giving more energy to the necromancer, which was sent to the Lich. Aldrah had given a second chance at life to his undeads, where it was time for him to get it away from them! An irony of fate. But all, amazing and good.

Increasingly the pressure in the air increased, the scent of death combined by that of the undead and the slaves being killed. A cold began to emanate from Aldrah, those close to him could feel their skin freezing.

Mana was sent to the Lich in a controlled and constant manner, and so the necromancer's forces fading, where this was something he thought was good.. All because during these kinds of rituals, Aldrah get exhausted in a way that was like if death came to get him, but it could not do it. Amazing.

The bodies of the undeads began to gather around the Necromancer, where when he had already sent a good amount of energy, he stopped. He thrust Thanatos to the ground, leaning on it. But his gaze had not diverted from Arthur for a second, wanting to see what would happen.
(Aldrah Leverd)
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[18:26] The Knight's expression seemed almost cheerful as she watched the slaughter of the sacrifices, those who had been foolish enough to stand against Dawn receiving their rightful punishment. Callous, perhaps, but no different from the majority of those in the settlement, and recent events had only further soothed whatever conscience Eryn had left.

She focused her energy on her raised hand, at the palm sparking a flame, sapphire in colour but far smaller than anything she'd usually generate. It was not directed at anything, merely being a conduit for the donation of her mana to keep the circle intact, the Drakanite providing all that she could to influence the ritual towards success.
(Eryn Evanstere)
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[18:26] As the slaves began to be sacrificed one by one, Clara was left stunned momentarily, watching the procession go forward. Gathering her wits about her finally, the Ultovexian child focused her own mana, as the tendrils slithered out from all around her, lashing out at everything and yet nothing. She made sure they didn't actually hit anyone. But the darkened water itself, infused with Clara's occultic magic, rises up - before it moves towards that circle, empowering it alongside the other Magi.

Now that she was collarless, her full mana was accessible once more and it continued to fire into the circle. She hadn't truly had access to this type of power for quite a while, and so unleashing it all as she did was.... Freeing, in it's own sort of way.
(Clara Ultovex)
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[18:26] Ascalon, turned away from the butchering. Not wishing to watch truthfully. It was just enactment of the second tenet, violence was needed to change. These people's lives where being used but their souls, they could be returned.

Blazing emerald hues settled upon the pedestal that held the runes, it was all so beautiful. An act of magic which was mindboggling to the young Oscuri. The raw essence of death magic on display brought no small touch of fear to the youth's heart.

Yet, the pump of reika did more to excite them, empower them than any sense of fear could do. They'd cross their legs, setting down upon a conjured bubble of air their hands came together to rest in their lap. Emerald hues watching all that transpired with a predatory focus.

Where could her reika bring about the greatest blossom? Her rain, where should it fall? They'd watch the swirls calmly. Watching the spirits of the slain as they where forced within the ritual taking place.

The chaotic cacophony of such a ritual making it all the harder to focus. Yet, they'd finally see a spot within the elaborate ritual. A weakening, a fault. It was there that she'd focus.

The pulse of reika roared into a mighty deluge. All pushing towards that weak point, all focused, pure. The ley-lines crisscrossing her body burned in intensity. They could feel the feedback telling them to be stop, to pull away. Yet, when one felt the choirs of Azreal in their ears. How could one resist?

As the powerful reika surged into the ritual, battinger the lesser mana and life force into submission. They'd feel a rush of pride. They could feel the smiles of their ancestors today. All those Zanders and Townshends who'd served Azreal and Dawn.

'Just a little more, just a bit more'

A thought brought about a second wind of sorts as their energy poured forward like a delicate sledgehammer into the energy shroud. Striking again and again in order to keep it all maintained, clean, concentrated.
(Ascalon Zanders)
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[18:29] Unsure of what was going on, the Valmasian patriot would cooly take out his emerald flag and begin waving it around as he assumed that it was some kinda national holidy or something.

Dave honestly didn't know much, he'd only just rubbed the crust from his eyes and realized the congregation, but by Azrael he'd do what he could to make it a bit more lively.

He kept his thoughts to himself, more or less though. Feeling his words might desecrate the machinations that were happening. He thought about what this could mean in theory--maybe they were building a new statue? or taking this one down? Either way, Valmasia was his city, and all that jazz.
(Dave)
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[18:31] Sinael followed in with the Legion, his blade remained on his back. His pale hands tipped with razor like nails pinch together, he'd puncture those that attempted to run.

He began to inch closer and closer, stopping right before the crimson circle. He began to expel his mana onto the ritual circle, dark occult mana surged violently from his body.

The accursed stood there giving what he could while retaining his composure. No need to pass out here and end up part of the ritual. His red eyes scan those around giving their all for their King.

His eyes fall onto the mask, and then the aura surrounding him.

He'd truly given up quite a bit to get to where he stood.

Whispers came from his pendant, the dragonic essence within was raging, resonating with the energy he was letting loose.

Velkhoz and his deity battled for dominance within. Yet they still didn't understand, he'd never give them that chance to take over.
(Sinael Anauel)
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[18:33] Just having lifeforce of these people wouldn't be enough.

There was also necessity of absolute mastery and knowledge, which is where his own work would begin; eventually, once the Lich King organizes flow of lifeforce stable enough to the runic circle, he knew that he could move in - still, his eyes traced the flow of everything, peering upon it through the Azraelite relic he had acquired before, the Morning's Facade.

It would take much, but such was the price.

Almost by habit, he inhaled to non-existent lungs, but that only served him the reminder of how much he should try no matter what. The hands of Arthur were raised ahead, drawing upon the pedestal for additional runes that would empower the runic circle even further; the runes that were meant to ensure that the ritual is completed properly once he steps onto pedestal, that the energy would not go in vain. As such...

'Cruor - the Purpose of Bloodshed, of Life-liquid.'
'Ecfigies - the Purpose of Absolute, of Perfection.'
'Sanctidor - the Purpose of Purity, of Health.'
'Cursus - the Purpose of Flow, of Transfer.'
'Signum - the Purpose of Seal, of Bind.'

The excellence of the runes was apparent. This was no ordinary master working before them, but the man that thoroughly knew the language of Divines to create something much greater than most could ever dream of - the living proof of such was the fact there was a Fallen Angel on the loose, and the Statue right behind them.

As well as other wonders that Arthur created during his life-time.

Yet, the last of the slaves were almost slain. Another hand was re-directed to the flow of lifeforce- he knew that he had to ensure this goes directly as planned, and he voiced further directives to the rest of Dawn.

"Continue with the flow."

"Begin to slowly shift from supporting the flow to locking the energy in a seal, right in the runic circle. This is almost complete."

The runes were humming.
Something was happening.
(Arthur Rowan)
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[18:37] The energy she was providing redirects itself, forming its own powerful seal. Her own knowledge of runes letting her mana form into runes within the circle, harmless but aiding in holding it all where the Lich King wanted.

The blood was beginning to pool a bit, how long was she capable of resisting the destruction, of resisting the desire of all the blood... all the flesh..

Her eyes close as she tries to focus her intent.
(Jessi Ultovex)
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[18:38] Watching the ritual was interesting enough. Actively participating? That was something greater. The Drakanite followed the given instructions, forcing her mana to shift over several long moments to 'lock the energy in a seal', just like the King instructed. Eryn wasn't exactly how to do that, but it appeared that the concept was instinctive, given her ability to do it nonetheless.

The strain was growing now, beads of sweat percolating on her face, the sapphire flame growing smaller as she continued to focus, forcing her mana through the fire as a conduit towards the ritual. Whilst she could feel exhaustion coming, the young woman continued. This was more important than her own minor discomfort.

Assumedly, at least.
(Eryn Evanstere)
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[18:40] Arlei's skin had rapidly paled. She looked like a ghost. The nausea within her stomach was tearing her apart. It took everything she had to not empty her stomach onto the ground. She choked back some of the vomit and heated her body with fire magic to evaporate the tears that left her eyes the instant they formed. It was killing her emotionally to do this, but her conviction was strong.

Her mana flowed into the seal the others were creating, just following the flow that she felt. The screaming had died down, and so had her hope. The hope that Dawn could be saved. Her energies mixed with those of the other magi, following their paths to bolster their strength. To learn what to do. She'd never taken part in such a ritual before, nor done anything this complex with her magic. She only hoped that Ryujin would forgive her for her crimes.
(Arlei Therus)
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[18:40] Well it seems like it was progressing. The ritual was definitely going underway. The last of the slaves is killed and the runic pedestal was doing... something, Chad could feel it.

Because he was connected to his star, he didn't have a loss of mana. Otherwise his shallow circuits would have forced him to drain mana to give it. But not with his star, he had connected with it and it had given its power to him. A crimson star to be exact.

What that meant was that Chad was using a very corrupted source to empower himself further and then place all that power at the disposal of the Lich King. He wasn't the most powerful there, but he was no slouch either.

Now it was a matter of locking the energy. Chad chants for a moment quietly, perhaps calling on the power of the Dreamer to aid him in controlling the energy. Thankfully he was not the only one helping with locking all this energy in. No. There were many Magi here today doing their best for Dawn. And he was one of them:

Disciple to Sors, Squire of Paladin Freya. He had to live up to their expectations. He had to show his growth and potential.
(Chad Padwick)
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[18:41] Sinael did what he could to aid, the mana surged from his finger tips onto the runes. He was amazed at the runes Jessi had conjured to aid in the Kings own runes.

He inhales and slowly channels dark mana in his chest, swelling as he cast invigorate to increase the size of the building pool. His arms shook as he let the mana project itself forward.

He'd hoped to see this through, what would come from this?
(Sinael Anauel)
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[18:41] The end bit it seemed was near. The final steps for whatever this project was going to bring forth. Lives were being taken, mana was being given, runes were working and glowing as they all combined their abilities of varying levels to aid their home.

To once more, aid progress. To do so he'd continue to pump his mana in, supporting the circle in any way. At first it was to hold the energy in, or help it flow into it. To keep things going while it happened, now? It seemed as if they were slowly switching to aim to seal it all in.

So that's what he'd aim to do now, seal. He'd continue to channel his mana as he coaxed it to change it's goal. To change it's purpose. He was starting to feel a bit faint at this point really, though he'd hang on. After this he could rest.

That he would probably do a lot.
(Jun Ultovex)
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[18:41] [ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eQsTPTG5O4I ]

Is this what dying felt like?

The fire overtook his body, and he began to feel that he really was burning; the fire inside of him was too much to bear. He'd never once tried using it in this manner - he'd only ever used it to help his attacks, be it by shrouding his blade in burning flames, sending forth a wave of terrible fire, or calling upon the earth below his very feet to throw magma at his enemies. It was too much.

He begins to falter, the flames surrounding him growing weak and dim - that was the rule that all fire followed. Roaring, living flame begets cold, useless ash, a mere memory of what once was. He looks around him and he sees beside him the finest people this country has to offer. Patriots, true believers, divine revolutionaries, arsonists of the Creator's house, this evil, cruel world.

He lets out a deep, pained grunt, drawing on the last of his willpower to aid his king in sealing this circle. His body is consumed by the inferno, but he feels no pain. Only the need to see this through to completion. He stares hard at the sigil, his focused mana helping to seal in the energy that was so needed for this ritual.
(Dan Dogslayer)
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[18:41] The fun part was over, now it was just runes, something Zariel had a unique understanding of. However, these runes were something far more intricate and far more powerful, it wouldn't take a profession to tell you that much..

The ritual was almost over, unfortunately. The show would ending and all he could do now was drive it home..

With the last of his power, he'd release occult magic in the form of black ichor. Letting it sink into the ground, it take a few moments for it to rise from the soil, surrounding the ritual circle and act as a safety net of sorts..

Extending his right hand, and moving his left hand over it, he'd focus on extending the keeping the mana within the circle, and catching even the feintest amount of mana from leaving it.

Surprisingly enough, a few drops of sweat could be seen sliding down Zariel's cheeks. He'd already given most of his magic, he'd have to rely on the aid of the others to keep everything perfect.
(Zariel Daigal)
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[18:42] Ser Artaghh's dense aura of spirit energy would wax and wane with steady fluxuation as he continued to gather from both the spirit realm and mundane, only to immediately flow it forth not into his own reserves, but into the ritualistic circle of sacrifice that Lord Rowan had conjured. The knight stared grimly forth as the burn scarred skin of his right arm strained and bulged with continued channeling, continuing to strain his reserves as his muscle fibers ached and panged at the overstress of the action.

The knight was a man of his word. He'd give everything short of dying himself from the transfer.

Gritting his teeth with a light heave of breath from his rot scarred lungs, the commander would take a reinforcing puff from his corn cob pipe, savoring the burn of the minty smoke within his lungs to keep him centered as he continued to be drained, forcing the dense mana of his transfer now towards supplementing Arthur's own masterful runic seal, committing all his reserves as a mystic to the lich king's efforts.

For Dawn.
(Artaghh)
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[18:42] Li would continue to watch with great attention as the ritual was unfolding. He had no intention on giving his energy for a massacre like that and, luckily, his collar gave him a good excuse.

The old man's gaze would wander through the crowd, his eyes covered by his round black glasses obscured his line of sight, allowing him to peek without being found.

As more and more people died, Li noticed his lack of shock� it felt like he had changed, that he got accustomed to all this death.

But before he could realize that, his line of thought got interrupted by the sight of the Lich King's action.

Runes, no, something even greater. The old man had once seen those symbols long ago, when he met Elisheva.

>

Immediately, Li forgot about the massacre that was unfolding, he forgot about the large crowd surrounding him.

His gaze was focused on only one thing. Power, Arthur.
(Li Minobu)
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[18:42] More? More is asked of her? Her head spins and she can't see straight. Maybe it's a mercy, given the sights that can be beheld. Corpses, the living dead performing their puppets as skeletal marionettes to their masters will.

She takes a knee, she has too. There's no way she's going to be able to stay aloft. Ardith's eyes narrowly remain on the proverbial prize.

The more she uses the mana at her disposal, the clearer the voices become, another impetus to play her part in the ritual. More and more and more. It's then that she hears it.

Whatever it is precisely that she hears makes her go sheet-white and retch again, but thankfully nothing comes up. It encourages one last push of precious mana to the rituals foul ends. Unless she wants to join the lifeless husks, she can give not more.
(Ardith)
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[18:42] She would continue the flow of her rather miniscule mana to help the King. She couldn't really do much else than that. At least she was trying her absolute best to help. Given the circumstances.
(Oblivion)
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[18:42] He continues as told.

The aura around him wanes with the exertion of his mana. Continuing to steadily flow into the ritual, but changed in usage. As told he focuses on the energy already there.

Pushing it towards a specific rune of sealing, 'Signum'.

His fist clench as he continues, straining his circuits nearly more than ever before. It hurt to force himself so much. But the others doing the same kept him going.

For Dawn.
(Feth Vishkar)
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[18:43] Finally it offered its full attention. It could take more afterwards, should the necromancers not want more flesh and bone for their own projects.. It had, in technicality, fulfilled the Adjucator's orders sufficiently, for the time being.

So its verdant, mirror-sheen gaze shifted back to the circle again. Intently focused, gently tugging upon the threads of its own mana to twist and contain theirs. So many bodies. So much life-force. All pooled together into one spot.

It wondered what might happen were such a thing offered to a person instead. The thought lingered in the back of its mind, stowed away for the time being so it could give its all. Or- Most of it. The voidling kept a reserve of its power, sure not to waste the lot of it.

There was little else to do beyond that.
(Mertaisyl)
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[18:44] Even though he was a bit 'exhausted' because of the energy he had sent to Arthur, his services were still required. Still the necromancer would have to help in the process.

Two more undeads appeared in the place, where Aldrah drained the 'life' of their bodies, to be able to restore some of his own energy. The bodies of the undeads fell to the ground inanimate.

Again Aldrah lifted Thanatos, pointing now to the circle. Where he would have done as had been asked, he would help keep the energy trapped there. This would be no problem for him, after all, in necromancy his practitioners basically 'play' with energy.

His focus was to keep everything in one place, it was a large amount of energy, since it was the mana of several individuals on the scene. But he was doing his part, the part for a future.

While he kept doing it, a smile had stayed on his face, it was great to have so many lives being taken in one place, so many souls. So much pain.. A sacrifice to Azrael, he would say, but it was not.

"Only death is satisfactory.." He mortified to himself.

He continued his efforts to keep the energy stuck in just one location, as requested. Something was to happen.. Soon.
(Aldrah Leverd)
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[18:44] 'Continue the flow?'

The young Oscuri blinked, they where already feeling exhausted. Beads of sweat dotted across their brow. An ache to their body screaming at every moment.

They'd glance over towards Arlei for just a moment. A reminder ticking into their head, a realization. All they needed to give more than they had. Was to get more.

They'd reach into their pocket, pulling for a shining orb of concentrated energy magic. It hummed slightly, the orb blue and pure. It was a battery, passed down to them by their father, Chroma Zanders.

In it rested the energy of a life time, preserved. Maintained, forever there. All they had to do was connect to it. Connect to their departed father for to utilize his last gift. Could they do what they'd failed before, here, now?

Their focus went to the orb. Hand burning with reika gripping the draining thing. It felt so cool, yet so hot. Within it was the raw essence of a supermagi, a master of the mystic arts. She could feel it. Just within the orb. She'd tried to calmly connect to it before, to attune. Yet, she'd failed so miserably. How could she succeed?

'For Change, Force is Needed.'

The thought burned into their mind, a vision of the past. Words spoken so clearly, so beautifully once. They could see it, the faces of great magi, angels, and mortals alike. Light up in understand at what had to be done then.

A soft smile touched her lips, she could do it now. And she would. She'd focus upon the Midnight Heart with all the force and anger of a true born Oscuri. Smashing into it's spiritual protections again and again.

The fluctuating of her reike was intense, as she almost gave nothing to maintaining the circle. Yet, finally, she felt it crumble. The barrirer between herself and the orb. Shattering amidst violence.

As soon as the attunement had been attained she'd turn backto the circle blazing streams of reika surging forth. Empowered by the concentrated mana of a super magi. Smashing into the seal with all the power of a flood. Washing over it, smoothing it, perfecting that section.

A wide smile touched her lips as the fatigue, the pain, the doubt all washed away from her. She'd have the energy she needed. All of it now, thanks to this gift. Thanks to her father. His deeds in life, would echoe eternally through her.
(Ascalon Zanders)
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[18:50] Inari was basically nearly tapped out. He was not going to kill himself over this. The nagual muscles starting to twitch as he was exhausting himself out. His tail curled off to the side, giving the circle a little bit of more mana. Just how much did he need for this ritual? When this thing was over he was going to need a very long nap.

The kid still keeping some mana while he slowed his mana flow down a little. He didn't want to pass out either. That would be embarrassing.
(Inari Blake)
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[18:52] [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rm5yKO8VDwQ&t]

The dream of his life. The work of his life. Right within his grasp.

The runes were stabilized, and so was the energy and lifeforce that flowed within the circle; with the last of slaves being killed as sacrifice, he knew that this was his queue - it was now or never. A single signal was given to the Undead Legion, all to make sure that they stand ready for whatever is about to happen.

Because he never knew what the outcome would actually be.

In a sense, this reminded him the time he actually became the Lich. The very same time, when it took about a year before the effects began to settle in- when he began to suddenly rot away, and no medicine or treatment really helped him at all. If anything, he could only hope that this won't backfire. But...

"It's done." - a loud exclamation.

"Now, observe."

A step closer. A single step for Arthur, and perhaps the great leap for Dawn as a whole; he stood upon the pedestal, allowing the runes to latch upon him, to bind themselves to his body and swallow him whole - in a moment, the entirety of the Lich was engulfed in what seems to be an unholy energy of so many lives taken, intending to warp him to the very core.

A scream. And this time, it didn't belong to any slave.

Painful process, no doubt... but such was the price. Arthur stood there as the life-force of over four hundred people flowed into him, combined with the mightiest runes and the part of Fallen Angel's magic. It burned into him, reminding him of what dying would feel like, if he were to ever repeat the process.

And yet, the Undead Legion gestured others away, should they try to intervene.

It lasted for a good minute. Burning, searing Arthur inside as the overwhelming energy of so many magi and the life-force of hundreds was imbued in his essence and pattern; for a moment, it might've looked like ritual was, for all intents and purposes, a failure - one with very unfortunate outcome.

"Finally..."

Steaming, he stepped out. The light of all runes dimmed behind him, clearly having been consumed by the Lich King; their power was vibrating, prompting to even give Arthur uncontrollable shakes, but the Undead servants were there to support his stand. A pause, and finally he adjusted himself.

"...I'm thankful for your efforts, Dawn."

"Now, we can only wait and pray that this ritual will be success. Much like my ritual for Lichdom, I expect this to set in within next one to two years."

"I will emerge different. For better or worse... we shall see."
(Arthur Rowan)
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[18:57] Biao Teng observes from afar.
(Teng Biao)
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[18:59] The flames surrounding Dogslayer died down the moment that the runes stabilized themselves; the last of the slaves had been murdered, and it seemed to be over. With a powerful shout, the king proclaimed that it was done - it was time to watch and see. Dogslayer collapses to his knees, exhausted, and begins murmuring quick prayers to Azrael. He hears Him, the Lord, reply, speaking through the statue. Quietly, he bows his head, muttering more litanies for the redemption of mankind.

And then the screaming began. Dogslayer looks up, fear in his eyes - was the king dying? Shaking, he rose to his feet, doing what he had been ordered to do.

Observe.

The king stepped off the circle, letting off steam. The light behind him faded, and it seemed that the worst of it was over. Dawn's favor in the eyes of the Lord must have been secured today; for the briefest of moments, the anger he felt inside of him at the heathens who lived on this horrid continent subsided, and he felt only joy.

He began to shout.

"Long live King Rowan!"
(Dan Dogslayer)
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[18:59] The last bit was, something he wasn't expecting. It certainly was a spectacle to say the least. The energies of all their mana, the slaves, even some divine power all surrounded the man. Though it didn't seem without consequence.

A rather loud scream, one of pain surely. It seemed that this process was painful for all involved causing those around fatigue and maybe pain depending on how much they invested. Though he'd slowly make his way over to where his mother was. As well as Ardith.

"Are you alright mom? What about you Ardith?"

He'd ask a simple question as he stood there, clearly worn out. His magic already faded at the moment. It would surely take him some time to recover.


(Jun Ultovex)
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[18:59] After all that was done and she was visually drained she grabbed her book and prompted herself toward a nearby bench unless her body would give out before reaching it of course. She was happy she had helped those in Dawn especially the King himself. That was going to keep her happy for a long long time.
(Oblivion)
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[19:00] Then the process went on until everything was ready. Where with the Lich's exclamation, Aldrah fixed his gaze.

A scream.. Undeads preventing anyone from reacting.. And then the Lich leaving the ritual circle.

It was complete.. Where to know if it had happened correctly, would have to wait some time for what seen.

He just waved to the Lich and undeads came to the necromancer.

As the services of the necromancer were no longer needed, he began to withdraw from the place to rest. Because he would have to hold a meeting soon.
(Aldrah Leverd)
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[19:00] Ser ARtaghh would fall to one knee as he continued to drain out his reserves, the toll upon his own life force meaningless in exchange to watching the pinnacle of skeletondom shine bright amongst this crowd before the statue. The knight would maintain his one eyed gaze upon the lich king until at last the blinding radiance of the runic circle steadily dulled. Their king had given their thanks, the ceremony was complete.

The knight commander would crack out a missing toothed, exhausted grin in spite of his depleted reserves, planting his great, black blade into the soil beneath his sabatons as a point of support before steadily forcing his armored frame back to a standing position. His legs were a bit shaky from the drain, but nothing a bit of good old fashioned mountainous meditation couldn't handle. More importantly, as the mithril paladin's gaze trailed across the crowd of willing aides to Lord Rowan, the knight would bark out in cheer as he saw their committed efforts.

In spite of all that had befallen their city, they had faith and hope in their king.

"Anythin' fer Dawn, King Arthur. It was our honor'ta serve."

(Artaghh)
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[19:01] It's over? It's done?

In the aftermath she's far from stately, regal, or even soldier-ly. She sits right down on the cobblestones and hugs herself, rocking back and forth.

It's almost as if she witnessed a mass murder and was part of an incredibly taxing profane ritual...

Oh. Wait...
(Ardith)
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[19:03] As the ritual came to an end, Ascalon became their own process of ending. Focusing away from the pump of their reika back into themselves. They'd smile as the ritual continued, the screams of the Lich King echoed across the plaza, yet what was suffering but another step towards perfection?

It took them a great deal of effort to calm back down. An even greater deal to reseal the energy of the midsummer night. Yet, they'd manage. Before finally slumping to the ground, weary and drained. Arthur had not lied when he said it'd take all they could give and then some.

A soft smile touched their lips, maybe this would be enough to bring about the great completion. Then a shout echoed throughout the crowd, Long Live King Rowan?

With a grunt they'd put their foot under them once more. Hefting themselves upwards, away from the dirt. They'd raise both hands to the sky as they a soft words escaping their lips.

"For Azreal."

They'd say the words with the surety of someone who'd just seen an act of their god. Who'd seen relics of their existence, who'd been blessed by a vision during.

Yet, after the rush of faith started to wain they'd look over to a sickly looking Arlei. Frowning softly now. It must have been hard for them, to help. Reaching over they'd offer the weary Drakanite a helping hand. Should they need it.
(Ascalon Zanders)
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[19:04] The ritual was similar to one of his own all those years ago. In the midst of that circle of power. Bombarded by foreign energies, searing into one's mana circuits and even deeper into the bowels of ones soul, yes he knew this power well.

However, when it was all said and done, Zariel couldn't help but to frown with a tilted head and raised brow.

Disappointment.

He'd hoped that a ritual of this magnitude would yield instant results, but the fact that such took time would only mean that his own goals and ambitions would take that much longer to achieve, for he did not have an entire cities support, he was not loved by the many and he could not achieve such on his own..

"Not for dawn, but for an old friend.. Ascend and know a power that most can only dream of..

Succeed."

Zariel had no connection to this city now that his son was dead, no reason to support it aside from curiosity..

Could it be that he was simply attached, preposterous..

Soon, Zariel's form began to fade to black, dispersing into a black mist travelling northwest towards an old home of is.
(Zariel Daigal)
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[19:04] It's done.

Now, observe.

The flow of his rieka is reined in as their declaration is heard. Exhausted and with the need to recover his mana, he looks to the Lich King with a weary look. Observing as they step onto the pedestal and the runes glow with a light brighter than any. Holding the lives of four hundred.

Runes which slowly ascend to cling to their person and become one with their person. Extraordinary levels of power coming from their person. Unholy essence of the deceased and the magi standing nearby joining them. And then comes a scream from the mask.

His eyebrows furrow in concern. This was a first for him to do. Suspicious of failure his fist clench. And then comes another sound from behind the mask.

Finally...

The runes in him still radiate untold of amounts of power and stabilized in joining him. Applause rings out in the square as an uproar starts from the citizen. Such that he joins in with a look of awe on his face, hands meeting to applaud them. They'd succeeded in giving their power.

"For King Rowan. For Dawn. For Azrael."
(Feth Vishkar)
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[19:05] She felt like no mana was left in her, although in all honesty that was unlikely -it being more likely she'd drop dead if such a thing occurred. The Lich King began screaming, and even without the Undead Legion preventing any aid, the Drakanite did not expect she'd even be able to come close to helping whatsoever.

Eryn managed to watch the thrilling conclusion to the ritual, but as the energy began to fade, she found herself collapsing to her knees, breathing heavily. Truly, that experience of donating one's mana was exhausting, and the young woman mused that perhaps she should take a little rest, a notion dispelled as she forcibly reminded herself that Knights did not pass out on the cobblestones, no sir!
(Eryn Evanstere)
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[19:05] He seemed relatively calm himself but as he looked over to Ardith, she seemed to be not so much. She'd seem to collapse onto the stone, hugging herself. This seemed to maybe bother her, along with the exhaustion she was probably feeling.

He'd lean down a bit, placing a hand on the girls shoulder. He couldn't really blame anyone for being bothered by it a bit. It was a lot of lives being taken for progress, he just hoped it wasn't a waste regardless of who they were.

He'd just simply looking at the girl as she sat there hugging herself on the cobble. HIs hand on her should, an attempt to comfort her really.
(Jun Ultovex)
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[19:05] Well, at least the question would be answered, eventually. Not soon enough for its liking, but- Eventually. That's what it had all been for. The idea had already occurred to someone else.

Who even was this guy?

Newly raised as it was, lacking in memories of its previous life, Mertaisyl didn't have a clue. Most everyone else seemed to call him king, however. And for all it was a monstrous beast, it could feel the power radiating from him.

It understood well enough, the sort of being that could control such a vast legion on his own was not one to be trifled with. Not one to be disrespected. So it saved what words it might've said. What questions it might've angled and stabbed into this massive gathering.

The doubt it could've sewn. He'd said this was for the betterment of the city no? All instead, it seemed, poured into just one man. One bony, powerful yet old, well-respected man.

It cocked its head to one side. Cerulean light withdrew, and flickered out. And there upon the stone it sat once more, silent in its observations. If they could be convinced to offer so much for him..

An interesting thought. For another time.
(Mertaisyl)
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[19:05] It was done. The ritual was now over and he did his part. Inari floated off feeling the small trickle of blood coming from his nose. He didn't want his sis to see anything. The teen just simply floated away without saying anything. The was tired and worn out, not wanting to be bothered by anyone.
(Inari Blake)
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[19:06] Arlei took Ascalon's hand, rising back up to a standing position. She was. . dead. She was drained. Her hand went over to Inari's shoulder and held it tightly, giving him a light pull. She wanted him to follow her.
(Arlei Therus)
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[19:08] Ardith tries to shrink, to hide in the throng of still standing bodies.

It evidently doesn't work. Jun's hand finds her shoulder and she recoils. What else is her reaction going to be after witnessing what she did?

She hugs herself tighter and whimpers softly. Utterly disgraceful...
(Ardith)
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[19:08] Now, came the worst part.

The side-effects from the process; immediately, another shake struck from within, no doubt the life-force attempting to stabilize within all-devouring, hungering body of the Lich. For all these years, it starved - and it essentially devoured Arthur's own body as result due to that unending hunger, a result of binding himself with Fallen Angel's magic.

But what else would happen, now that he doubled it down and did it again?

For a moment, it almost looked like Arthur is about to collapse, only to be held up by few Undead soldiers; he gestured idly to them, all to convince his legionnaires that he's okay, before re-adjusting himself proper. The outcome of this ritual would soon be obvious.

Either he comes out much greater, or much more ruined.

"For now, I'll have to retreat to rest."

"I'll... be preparing for this emergence."

And then, he began to walk away. Accompanied by many undead bodyguards, the Lich King retreated to allow these effects to settle in.
(Arthur Rowan)