dev 3 - defeating fear

Hundreds upon hundreds.

In a perfect sync, the army of Undead stood to defend its southern borders, and meet the Gehennan invaders. There was hardly any doubt in his mind that Leland was not going to carry through with the duel, because there was no response to it whatever - and that could only mean one thing.

It's time for war.

Floating above the majority of the army, the Adjudicator noticed the approach of first Gehennan forces, far off the mark for any of the Undead to begin advancing on- though, with a single gesture up in the air, archers came out behind the warriors, positioning themselves to rain arrows to the opposite side.

He slid the mask over his face, the visage of Adjudicator resembling an odd, dark shadow in the sky- the hand was raised, kept steady, steady... steady...

"Fire."

Immediately, the hail of arrows was launched upon Gehennans, leaving them with no choice but to begin losing soldiers or utilize the shields, or at least evasive maneuvers; he took his time to conjure the Storm in the air, all to create yet another obstacle for invaders.

"Engage after Storm dissipates."

A bolt of lighting, another, and another- the blown up ground flew up, chunk after chunk, and now they had to wait after initial response to their invasion. The smoke created after such attack was a double-edged sword, giving the attacking side a cover to get closer.

Now they wait.
(Arthur Rowan)


Brandon Knightfold asks, "Hmm did they come from the south?"
On wings of gold he claims the skies. Small squads of quetzal's fly behind the Chieftain of the united tribes, while a legion of savages marches upon the plains. Sins, demons, and savages all compiled into a single unit, all approach with a single goal in mind.

Eradication.

"Well, well." Speaking casually, far to calm for a creature helming an army. "You've never required the holding of my hand to act, and I don't expect that to change, now." Thick, scaly fingers grab hold of Borealis, swinging the blade in the direction of Arthur's storm.

"Ssslaughter them all, and as the old adage goes--

Glory to Gehenna."


(Xiuhcoatl Lelhua)

 ROOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!


Charges into battle on all fours. The gluttony sin runs into the frey wanting nothing but blood and faith.
(Nepotietl Kumo)

Sibri's arcanium staff twirls about in his grasp, as the three spire shards around his neck glimmer and shine. How many would he kill today - and would he succumb to the withering of old age...? Perhaps someone would be fortunate enough to pry away that handsome prize he carries so openly, the crystals of the gods...

Blue, thorned vines follow him like slithering serpents, eager to absorb the blood of the victims to come.
(Sibri)


Fang against fang. The subtle changes could be seen as she lingers within the air, hovering above the army as if she were the morning light of Dawn. Twisted, sickening, the blade within her hand is almost as pale as the moon itself...Everything, even reality itself buckling underneath the pressure of her physicality. Power. It breathes within her being.....And yet, there is no hubris, nor smile. Instead, she seems terribly silent...Her gaze looking out towards faces that she knows, people that she had once seen...

 Thoughts dimming into nothing...For now, she simply allows instinct and commands to take over, preparing herself for what is to come.
(Bei Rowan)


Brandon Knightfold says, "Astaria you stepping in too? I will if you do. Though admitingly I might not be able to accomplish much."
-- Winds would sweep through this landscape.

Seeking to strike down every undead abomination which had all come to stand in the very path of this Gwyn. Floating in the skies just behind Leland as all such a man could do was simply watch these armies begin to march one another. Simply watch as these two powerful forces struck at one another with the aim to spill blood upon these lands of Agartha.

Silence.

The very force of gravity pressing downwards all as the descent of Bel had been made. These winds continually striking at this filth of undead hordes which all roamed at the simple whim of a single man. The simple whim of a fool that had been given power, only to squander such in marching against Gehenna.

All that was left?

All that remained, was to await what conflict came next.
(Bel Gwyn)

Red petals sway in the wind as the armies march upon Dawn.

Upon his back rests a mithril branch-shaped stave, and the Shengese, dressed in an Adamantite-armored robe, marches with the armies of Gehenna.

Perhaps he seemed out of place to be here, but it was simply what the servant of the Archon did.

And so, step by step, he follows into the tides of war.
(Shi Fu)

His expression mounts disbelief. That there could be something so large just fluttering about. Like an abomination. Though---and his eyes return to their average size. The surprise fading as the sudden thought does occur to him.

Isn't this just the true form of all Gehennans? Monsters raving for one reason or another?

Let alone with that, Farin could not deny that he, too, was a beast of sorts. To die had long since fled his body. The fear of such things. To live--well, he certainly wanted to.

But he was not overly concerned with either aspect one way or another. Truthfully. No. Simply, battle called. Duty, even.

Overwhelmed in blue, he steadies himself with a proper breath and reaches out towards the world that granted him power. To pray that this battle would not be his last. That he would not leave his cherished ones alone.

But also.

That he grind his opponent into dust.
(Farin Wray)

Veiled by what appeared to be a powerful blizzard hovered the Sarradian beauty that was Nihilexia Wight. The Necromancer leading a retinue of her own undead, bleached white mindless soldiers of bone, glowing purple gems upon their foreheads.

Clenching tightly upon her arcaneum staff as a blade of sharpened ice forms, giving it the shape of a gruesome scythe.

Silver hues fall upon her enemies as she commands the bones to charge after Arthurs command, followed by a roaring storm of howling winds and blades of ice. A marvel to be witnessed even upon the battlefield.
(Nihilexia Wight)

The rain of arrows that crashed around them were swiftly shielded-- or rather, she shielded as much as she could. With the swipe of her hand, a prism of pure, shimmering energy reflected the oncoming danger, keeping her and anyone directly behind her remotely safe. Anyone else, though? They'd have to find their own means of protection.

Something twisted in her gut. Never before had she ever had the honor of tasting the bitterness of war, but now as they all stood with readied weapons on opposing sides? She didn't know what to think of it.

It was too late to shy away, though. Reaching behind her back, she too aimed to tug free her weapon. Now? It was the calm before the storm.
(Metzli)

The kitsune's gaze flicked onwards into the approaching group, the clash of efforts anticipated, even welcomed within the fox's eyes as he hums softly. The intensity of his gaze is not directed towards any in particular, for what truly called for his attention seemed not to be present.

"If this is how it must be.."

The quiet crawl of his hunger takes root, preparation for the battle ahead made within his mind. There would be little time to consider sentiment when their blades clashed, so he'd have to steel himself, and prepare for an answer later..
(Ludovic Grauhimmel)

Brandon would cross his arms watching the army of Gahhenans stare off to the army of Dawnians. Brandon not really knowing what he should do in this situation would rather wait to see if what he sees as something of a mentor, Astaria would do, and Brandon would follow in suit. That's his thought process at least.
(Brandon Knightfold)

A sigh escaped his mouth, the first time he was in largescale battle in more than a decade, reaching behind his back he gripped the heft of his arcanium staff before slamming the butt of it into the soft grass of the plains below. He had little say.

With that he would just calmly walk towards the front, raising his staff for a moment. Shadows covered everything, yet the sky shimmered as brilliant stars of cosmic mana began to rain, bathing everything in cosmic fire.

(Frank Armiger)

Xiuhcoatl VS Arthur
Verdict VS Bei Bei
Sibri VS Frank
Nepo VS Ludovic
Bel Gwyn VS Nihilexia

Any capture is fine, as long as it's higher than 1. Dangerous.

A sinister giggle would escape Aya's mouth as she fluttered about the field, lavender hues fixated on the enemy standing across from her. Her mind couldn't help but run rampant at the idea of experimenting on the many people standing across from her, especially after what that Fae Giara did to her.

Purple colored dust fell from her form as she danced about the sky- Lowering herself towards the silver haired Sarradian that she had become all too familiar with during the last two months.

"Hehehe. Looks like we really are going to get to do beautiful things together. Hehehehe."

Rainbow colored wisps would begin to form around her and the Sarradian as she empowered her with the same blessing that she did previously, giving the necromancer a significant boost in vitality.

"Shall we?"
(Aya)

Brandon now seeing Astaria step in to the gray decided that he might aswell, knowing this might be where he dies...in the middle of the plains. "Well Since Astaria is stepping in I might aswell too, There are worse things to stake your life on I guess. So I guess I Don't particularly mind if I die here." he would say calmly accessing the situation.

"So these cavemen just came stumbling on here trying to kill us for no reason?? That's great well...As I said before I'll do my duty as a citizen and protect my homeland!" he would say now prepared to rush in and fight.
(Brandon Knightfold)

So he challenged him after all.

There is no hesitation. There is no restraint. The moment he'd seen Leland extend his blade towards his Storm, he immediately flew head first at overwhelming speed- it was hard to catch the glimpse of him for any ordinary soldier, even nigh impossible, but then again--

-- neither of them are ordinary soldiers, are they?

Instead, it's a clash of weapons right away. Whatever Leland had come here for, Arthur goes for the kill- a targeted blow to the neck, which no doubt would be still easy to resist for a honed magi, before he flies off back to the skies. As a Master of Storm, the air was his freedom, the air was his element.

"So you've come. With friends, I see."

An unamused, judging stare that narrows down at the man. He wasn't pleased that finishing him off so easily just won't cut it, and that he's indeed more powerful than Arthur may have expected, but that makes it all more fun doesn't it? The crimson glare in his gaze deepens, the power he taps into only becomes more apparent, before he spills more words.

"You'll regret this dearly."

"You'll realize just how badly you screwed up today, you presumptions moron."

Another dive in. Leland must protect himself, if he wishes to survive - and the battle begins.
(Arthur Rowan)

Gulp.

Nervousness creeps in as the storm approaches. Fear embraces him, and he embraces it. Trembling fingers grip tight against the hilt of Borealis, question the last time he'd truly felt such an odd sensation.

It makes him feel alive.

Arthur's speed is notably greater than his own, something that again, makes him feel a tremendous amount of discomfort. "Ah-" Raising the blade, he's quick to protect his throat- scales of green and gold trail across the entirety of his flesh.

Again, he trembles.

"Of course, I did. Can't fight a war alone." Still, he speaks calm, slit eyes shifting around, doing his best to track the movements of the Rowan. "Perhaps, I will. I doubt, I'll win, even. I can only pray that you humble me." Deep down, he wanted another reason to grow, to evolve.

Make it hurt.
(Xiuhcoatl Lelhua)

He never fared well against those that manage to avoid him.

Curse it. Curse the Drakanite blood, curse the protection magic, curse it all. The frail touch of looming mortality was apparent the moment his position was caving in against the Gehennan; the speed mattered, of course, but it mattered little against someone that stands under protection of so many sources. A heavy exhale, a grit of his teeth in pain beneath the mask--

'Let us.'
'You were never good at this.'
'Just this once. We won't tell her.'

A nod. There's no source, no one in particular he nodded, but the Rowan was gone. Instead, blind fury and desire to survive replaced all that he stood for- he looked up at Leland, the crimson glare glowing far beyond its mask, stretching in a thin line that caressed the side of his face.

"You shouldn't had done that."
"It fucking hurt."

A sudden surge of energy. A blast of lightning, and another, and another- wherever Leland tried to make the space between the two, it was the futile effort as ice began to close in around themselves, but oddly, it was closing in around both of them. For a moment, it could be taken as desperate tactic, but the longer battle lasted between them, the more blows were exchanged, there's one thing that became clear.

This madman is trying to lock both of them in ice.

When Leland had the opening to recover, Arthur only chased after him- an attack that would be deemed suicidal, insane, and even downright stupid, well--

-- he carried through.

A sudden grasp that would not let Leland go, a sudden sting coming from the piercing ice and blood that stuck in his side. He's done it now,and he actually locked them both in unmovable position. Adjudicator's face looms over Gehennan's, the crimson staring in his eyes.

"You. Fucked. Up."

The Storm itself strikes them. It shocks the two, but instead of letting go, Arthur holds onto Leland. No matter how much Drakanite tries to escape, it's futile. He just refuses to release his grip!

It's painful, oh so painful, but the clarity of the moment comes through- his senses are deafened, and Arthur may or may not be still holding onto him. It may be his chance to escape but...

Only one way to find out.
(Arthur Rowan)

So close.

Avoiding the chaotic storm shouldn't have been so dreadfully difficult, but the Rowan proves to be a fearsome opponent. Paying little attention to the war around him, his focus rests almost entirely on keep himself safe. Vines weave in and out of his scaly flesh, scales of gold and green trail across his flesh, in an attempt to keep himself shielded.

For a while, it remained effective.

"What-" As ice encloses around them, he glares at the Oscuri with confusion embedded in his features. "Are you insane-" Raising a palm, he attempts to push the Adjustor away, only to find his arm frozen in place. The ice, and the grip, keeping him stuck in place. His vines fail to move, his tail fails to break free.

Entirely immobile.

"It seems you are-"

A violent scream escapes the serpent-quetzals maw. His flesh melts and congeals. Dark streaks spread across his skin,and for a few long moments, his only sensation is pain.

For the first time in years, something else breaks through, an emotion rarely felt in full--

Anger.

"No, no, no. This is not- how I will die!"

A small tear in reality opens behind Leland, giving him just enough time to escape, teleporting across the field.

"...this." No matter how fast his Pledge to Gaia heals him, it does little to assist in escaping the pain. He bleeds, he throbs, he suffers.

"Is far from over. Arthur Rowan."
(Xiuhcoatl Lelhua)

'This is far from over, Arthur Rowan.'

It was the only thing he's heard before his body gave in, picked up by the Undead bodyguards- with their life, they guarded the Adjudicator in his brief unconsciousness; his breath was heavy, sharp, exhausted, suffering from the side-effects of quite literally subjecting the two of them under Storm in the most insane and suicidal manner possible, and yet--

'Get up.'
'The battle isn't over yet.'
'They're burning our homes. Move it.'

And yet, he shrugs off one of the bodyguards, his body straightening to stand tall. He may be injured and worn out, but the outside energy is what fuels him, and soon he rises to the sky. The rain is summoned over burning homes, and the portion of Undead are sent to repel the arsonists, before he floats back to the center of battlefield.

Something had to be done. Fast.

It's bizarre how he finds strength to do it again, but in the perfect sync, the Undead warriors suddenly make for a lunge backwards, before the Storm crushes upon invading army once more. It's a push to the limit, and as much as he tries to hide it, to a keen eye it's apparent - he's almost falling apart.

The lower part of his mask drips with blood. Is he coughing it out?

The greater energy gathers, and along with the ice, the flurry of spikes float amidst the Storm, replacing the rain drops to cause as much damage as he can, even if it cost him every ounce of energy he's had left.

A single, booming shout echoes through.

"GET OUT."

"GET OUT FROM MY HOME."
(Arthur Rowan)