dev 10 - facing against the wraith

Nero stumbles upon the wraith first- travelling towards Osrona. Zefa follows soon after- and then near immediately following come the diplomatic party from Ilburg, and one misfortunate Miya Sato.

Though all of them are unfortunate, truly. The wraith had been idly examining the empty mining pit when all the people suddenly approached- and it was greatly displeased to be robbed of its peace.

Its blade spun from its back, sweeping out in a wide range- knocking several back, hit by the brunt of the blow- yet five of the gathered eight were able to stay close enough to engage the wraith. Penelope, Basil, Basten, Cayden, and Zefa- Kofe the only of the Rhoynish delegation robbed of the chance to engage the wrathful spirit.

Readying its blade, it glares at the five who challenge it- yet does not strike yet. Allowing them to make the first blow.

Or attempt to make the first blow.
[Narrate]

There's something about the beings such as these which seem like a reflection of something wicked..

A reflection of something terrible that could be anyone, should something terrible happen in their life - after all, with their encounter against the Nethradin, he knew all too well that such beings come up as result of deeds most vile, most terrible..

And perhaps, this wraith isn't any different.

"Ain't expect this to be one of the friendly things."

"So let's get it."

This would be necessary for them. This would be necessary to ensure that they actually push through.. and he imagines that this has become more or less their duty, with the recent revelation of what happened back with the fallen Rhoynish.

"Let's put it down."

The tint of rosegold seems to arise; a call to his star, perhaps..

But he would be ready.
(Basil)

[THE GROUP WON VERSUS EVENT CHARACTER]


You have received an INJURY:

Name: "Within the Grasp of Death"

Desc: In battle with the Wraith, Basil suffered a massive wound spanning the length of his chest- from one shoulder, to the opposite waist. Were he any closer when the wound had been inflicted, he would have perished- yet he was fortunate. It would bleed profusely, and undoubtedly scar- as well as chill him to his bones, an ethereal remnant of the dead warrior. (Unhealable 1 OOC day.)

Inflictor: Wraith of Barsburg

Class: TEMPORARY

Duration: Medium (4 days) (-20% VIT)

It is a glorious battle. Those spectating from the sides would have trouble following the movements of the specter as it dashed throughout the fields of metal, fire, blood, and literal starpower- among all else thrown its way.

Basil is rent across his chest by a wide swipe of the massive blade- inches from death, yet the best boy barely evading such a horrible fate- left just with a wound profusely bleeding.

Zefa is wailed upon by a flurry of blows- their fists upheld to deflect such strikes, yet only able to partially negate damage inflicted- into the bones of their hands, which crack and break beneath the pressure.

Cayden's breastplate is thrusted into by a heavy stab- intent on his heart, yet knocked short by the man's allies. Regardless, the wound pierces through his chestplate and near to his heart- inflicting a ruthless chill, and likely a surge of adrenaline as his life had flashed afore his eyes.

Basten is pierced in a similar location- his shoulder punctured by that colossal blackblade, draining his power- and inhibiting how freely he might move his prosthetic arm. Fortunately, it had continued to work optimally through the fight, yet soon after it would begin to slow.

Penelope is she who fells the Wraith, yet not without due recompense. She's covered in a myriad of shallows cuts, left from strikes applied with finesse unlikely thought when witnessing such an oversized blade- yet they do not bleed, simply remaining open to the air.

Yet such is what allows the Rhoynish Boss to strike in with a final blow- blade held out, piercing through the ethereal breastplate of its armour- its form shimmering, dispersing momentarily, afore it reforms several paces away, knelt, holding itself up with its blade.

Its head bows respectfully towards the woman, then- with a clear measure of fatigue and injury- stands, afore turning and fleeing eastward. Were she in prime health, she would have been able to pursue it- yet she was not. None of them were, despite their victory against the ethereal warrior.
[Narrate]

It's in their blood, isn't it?

To throw themselves against such odds, ones that could very well hurt them simply too much.. but whereas Basil bombards the wraith with excess of plasma, flames, stardust and so much more, it is rather evident that it's simply not enough to take it down for good- for as much as it was a glorious battle in which they could potentially bring it down..

It managed to slip away.
No doubt not the first time either.

Perhaps, it was just lucky like that; but the endeavour is one in which Basil finds himself lost, for as much as he did his best to defend against the flurry of slashes, stabs and hits of all kind.. there's one that grazed him.

One he could not escape.

"No--"

It is the only uttered word that he could muster, before the blade pierced him so- slashing against his chest, no doubt to cause him to profusely bleed, and no doubt something that could've killed him, had he been any less lucky - or any less sturdy. Though..

The scar?
One of many.

It is another addition on his scarred body; another addition, a testament to the constant battles that he lives through. For the moment, he's out of commission.. and if it wasn't for the reach of his star that soothes him so, he would not be able to survive. Instead..

It becomes an endeavour in which the fires are used to cease some of the bleeding; essentially, searing the wound shut. A painful process..

One in which Basil is entirely pre-occupied not to scream out, taking all of his willpower to emit a pained hiss only. Though, by the time that he's done ensuring he won't bleed out..

Even with the tint of rosegold surrounding his frame again - it's just too late.

"..."

"It fled.."
(Basil)