mountain raid

Upon the foot of the Tarian mountain ranges, the marching of Vanirhallan men and women screech the impending attack upon a temple of Garljing’s Coat's outer temple.

Its whirring presence of armor-clad figures hold the ideals of the Triumvirate up high as their challenged beliefs are held out on their sleeves today. Today, they are here to claim the very figures that have backhanded their people for years. Statues of worship and prized relics, as well as the blood and lives of the Fireblooded and their allies...

Whilst their climb, high above the altitude, the prideful wings of drakes unfurl as those within the snowcapped temple prepare their own defenses. Pyres are lit as various figures uphold the line, intently preparing themselves for Aesirheim’s strike. In Garljing's name, they uphold their bulwarks.

As the warband grow close to their clash, the silent breeze of a snowy incline act as the beginning beats of battle.
[Narrate]

Ah.

It's that time once more. Already it finds itself pondering what would the outcome be - would the assailants take their victory tonight, or would the dragons defend their home? Yet still, the Bishop arrived here for the different reason altogether.

Fun!

"Khihihi..."

So many of them. So many of them to potentially take and add to the collective. It hungers, even now - a testament to such fact found in how the shadows begin to stretch forth and seek out their victim. Who that would be tonight?

Doesn't matter too much.
Their voices are valuable all the same.

"Can't wait to see whom I catch next..."

Even if through violence such as this, the thought does not scare it. The amalgamation was here to feast, and lest the destiny would not have it favoured today..

It'll feast plenty.
(Bishop)

Cap 1+, DANGEROUS.
A Battle for Relics and Blood -
Depending on the victory %, three prized relics are contested and given to the kingdom's leader. Near clean sweep being all three, strong victory being two, etc.

HEART OF THE DRAGON [MAIN RELIC] - The cryalized, still beating heart of the Dragon Zingaran, rivalling the legendary chiron gemstone in its magical output.
THE DRAGONBLADE - An ancient sword that was coated in the flames of GARLJING. Wielded by Sythaeryn and then Varceal.
GARLJING'S SCALE - A large, hand sized scale of GARLJING.

Revna Rune vs Violet Vartuul
Hati Kveld vs Driyar Hedor
Skoll Kveld vs Doriya Hedor
Alexander Vol Hellstrom vs Ka-Tula
Kaun vs Ektu Grace
Olrok vs Raija
Vekel vs Rook
Frekr Gullmunr vs Cilantro Loire
Gren vs Rian
Arden vs Ciel Valkrin
Lotan vs Henry
[Narrate]

It was hard to feign being calm in any sense, especially when the excitement between opposing forces truly picks up. Could anyone be bothered to silence themselves in any sense? Especially one so steeped n battle after battle?

Perhaps not, under most circumstances, though when dipping into the heat of the moment there's not a single noise that leaves Rook's lips. Just focused breaths that'd press against the back of their mask.

Whether it be his blood or another, there'd be enough for Eznite to bless before the days were over. That much was sure.

In the midst of Chaos Vekel wouldn't have time to focus upon what fodder may lay within his sight, as the bestial magi's speed sends him darting through unfamiliar terrain and faces, a clear strike from his fist aimed towards the Vanir's temple.
(Rook)

Whilst the doldrums of the Coat is disturbed by the forces of the desert, a ghost shifts past the clashing blades and flung spells of the two sides with poise and grace.

Not many pays mind to the unimportant wisps of the white-faced figure. And in this odd dance would it arrive before... another enigma.

It giggles, glancing upon the oddity that was Bishop. "Aren't you an interesting fella, hehe! Here to watch this lovely game unfold?"

The ghost did not seem inclined betwixt any if the two sides. If anything, it seemed like all it bore as a purpose was reveling in the clear bloodshed that was underway.
(Gaka)

"Let me ask you..."

Slowly marching toward the field of war, the Vanirhallan remained on high alert- dilated pupils voraciously staring whoever would become his next victim.

He'd acknowledged a presence was stalking him.

"Have you seen God?"

Grinning, his stature remained solid- feet planted in the ground as he grasped his broadsword. Using his off hand, the Karkian slowly unscrewed the vials full of toxins hanging at his hip.

A putrid miasma came to shroud Vekel's muscular frame- his leer still piercing Rook following his exposure. He was coming straight for the head.

"Maybe you can meet him.."

Releasing a ear piercing war cry, the self-proclaimed Champion of Aesirheim rushed in his enemy's direction.
(Vekel)

"Hm, hm.."

Curious. The Bishop watches, for it had no opportunity to be present on the battlefield as of yet; no magi to face, and yet, it doesn't give up the potential opportunity for that to last. Though..

A peculiar figure gains its attention.
Gaka.

"Ah!"

"Yes, quite an interesting fella."

"I'm here to watch what show it would turn out to be. Hm, hm.."

Inquisitive. As usual..
(Bishop)

The ghost giggles, its mouth remaining still and inky yet the reverberatingly soft effeminate voice shrills from behind the face.

"Well, if it's like anything else I've seen, it'll be... quite a play, hehe!" Each word, each syllable, it is as if the figure was fighting the urge to laugh between each sound they make.

"The last time something like happened, oh so many candles were snuffed and blown out, hehe!" It pauses, now striding closer as its head tilts to the side, looking on to the figure opposite to it.

Its voice finally simmers to pause its jesting undertones, speaking clearly without halting. "Tell me, are you a raging cyclone or a soft breeze?"
(Gaka)

"MAYBE..."

Grunting, Vekel did his best to avoid Rook's use of volcanic magic- the scorching heat unlike anything he'd ever experienced. Unfortunately, the young combatant was no novice, able to consistently keep the Vanirhallan on his toes.

Debris and projectiles were consumed his sharp bone armor, a good chunk of the attacks still hitting the Karkian.

"YOU DIDN'T HEAR...!

Alas, Vekel was no chump. Easily the leader of the next Aesirheim Big Three, his mastery over offensive defense allowed him to swiftly swerve around the field of war recklessly while punishing every misstep using tactically launched poison daggers.

Bone armor ripped through his garments- quite literally giving him the allure of a human Beyblade. Spinning and slashing while hovering his prey, poisonous bone tips cut the enemy Magi from the most unpredictable angles.

"ME..!"

Finally, using the power bestowed to him by Kirukan,Vekel used his agile reflexes to hop around the battlefield and thrust himself forward- aiming to pierce Rook's heart cleanly.

"DO YOU WANNA MEET GOD?"

But he missed...

The slash wasn't deep enough, instead inflicting him with a wide cut that caused him to bleed. Blinded by his own hubris, his focus shifted from the battle at hand to.. celebrating his certain victory.

He simply refused to lose.

This was the prime moment to escape, for an opportunity such as this probably wouldn't present itself again.
(Vekel)

Curious.

This Vanirhallan in particular... all too full of the boisterous energy, to proclaim so much energy within his attempts to strike down another. Is it any wonder that the Bishop would become interested all too soon?

He would make a fine addition to his collection.
But first..

It would imply catching him, of course. It would be impossible to ensure that the Vanirhallan would join the collective unless he's to face against the mask. But for now..

Its gaze tilts towards Gaka.
Humming.

"I am neither."

"I am the one who summons the soft breeze, followed by raging cyclone."
(Bishop)

It's within the moment that the challenge has been determined that he thrives, and as such there is not but an answer to the call that demands their utmost. Rook's magic sears through what defenses they could, scorching the earth and destroying whatever may lie within the wake of their vicious punches.

For every second that passes, there is not but ferocity laid behind the consecutive strikes, and waves of magic that seems to consume the fields.

For every war, and skirmish he has indulged in, no matter what it is another learning point not to concede to the limitations of his body. To hunger, is to win...

And certainly does his appetite remain ever insatiable, even upon sustaining a wound upon his chest, such having warranted he doubled back, a ragged breath sufficing as the means to steel himself and realize just when he'd been nearing exhaustion.

No task is an insurmountable one, but this obstacle? It proved to piss it off. There's no rational behind the voice that cuts through its once persistent silence.

"You're dead... Soon enough."
(Rook)

The idle sound of gods alone seems to make the ghost cackle, as if reacting to a joke. But of course, it makes no moves itself, striding back to stay within just at the vicinity where light meets darkness within the forest clearing.

Momentarily distracted, it eventually finds footing in its previously initiated conversation.

Hollow eyes shift to look on to the figure by it. Its face sifting from Bishop's head-to-toe, tossing an appraising stare.

"Then... I expect to see a good show where you walk!" It clamored, pulling an inky set of fingers into a humble applause as more maddened giggles emanated from the ghost.

"Perhaps one day... I'll capture your essence in the perfect... magnum opus... hehe!" Its hands are outstretched, palms bared to the enigma as if to look on to them whence the battle dies down. "A hallmark... yes... yes..."
(Gaka)

"Hrm.."

There seemed to be a certain dissatisfaction at the result of battle. So far, it is somewhat of a personal investment in another- an investment that the Bishop could not afford to lose.

The chess piece was necessary.

Still, it escapes. While the mask inquisitively watched, the gaze soon turned back towards Gaka.

Bishop's head tilts.

"Oh, yes. You will. Perhaps you even heard already."

Yet, the apparent statement of capturing its essence made for further curiosities. Is this one a hunter similar to the Bishop itself?

Did it exist to make a collection out of people, just like them?

"--Ah!"

"So you wanted to collect the essence, hm?" The mask smiled- in bizarre fashion, it was visible upon its cold surface.

"I'll welcome that."

A challenge? Perhaps.
(Bishop)

"Yes!" It clamors, beaming with an uncanny enthusiasm in its tone as the idle nods from its figuresque head gleams a hearty approval.

"I can catch the scent of chaos from a mile away, hehe!" It replies, hunkering down further on its odd inclination to its observer-like role within occurrences like this.

Yet something about the serene back and forth of gods and religion that seems to enact an utter being of laughter out from the ghost. It cackles out of nowhere, laughing at... nothing.

"Actually, I can feel... inspiration right now!" It announced, returning its gaze to Bishop with an affirmative nod. "Yes... yes... I can visualize it. I can feel it... each stroke... yes. You'll see soon... hehe!"

"You'll all see... hehe!"
(Gaka)

The scent of chaos?

Bishop was chaos incarnate. Was it not the testament of such fact when four magi found their evening become unfortunate and sour over the sole appearance of the mask?

It always seeks for more.
Always seeks for more chaos.

"Ahaha!"

"Good, good. Inspiration is something that people of this land severely lack."

"It'd be a shame if you were just another dull thing..."

But what it will see in the future? What exactly the likes of Gaka would bring about?

That remains to be seen. It doesn't ask.

Why ruin the surprise?
(Bishop)

Event Admin: Throughout the day and into the night, the sound of battle was constant music across the mountain. Magical attacks might make one thing a thunderstorm was occuring if they weren't aware of the war that was waged between the two branches of Garljing, but there is no true victory to be had here... it's too close, and before long much of the two forces are exhausted, with the Fireblooded forcing the invaders back through their numbers and advantage of home territory...

By the final hour, a harrowing roar can be heard far beyond the mountain, the cutting cry of a dragon. The Primordial, the Fire Emperor. A demand to meet both the Vanirhalla and Fireblooded face to face -- ?

Perhaps.

Either way, the fighting is over... for now. The Aesirheim make off with a valuable jewel that was once the prize of a dragon's horde, looting it in their hit and run.
https://i.imgur.com/kOKhYFw.png

AESIRHEIM: Mauvestone
FIREBLOODED: Dragonblade

Perhaps the growing acrid scent of pigments would be a strong enough hint of its intentions.

"Give it time... but this leads me to believe... you're not so old... are you? Hehe!" Its passing words simmers as the soft silken sheets of a body it has seems to wispily flow with the wind. "Lest you would've known what you're about to see."

It shrugs, giggling. "BUT! That's okay! Consider what you'll see as... my introduction."

"Maybe then... you'll see how incorrect... dull is for me, hehe!"
(Gaka)

"Ah..?"

It seems that the fighting was coming to an end. With the exchange of different fights nearing their peak, it's no wonder that the likes of the Bishop would find no more time to stick around here.

Lest it would find itself found with no chaos to cover it up.

"Time to go! Too bad."

There's only a final glance at Gaka. The introduction to it all? It can't wait till there's more to see. But for now...

"I'll be looking forward to that."

With that, the Bishop makes off- refusing to answer anymore questions about itself. It's wise to leave before that happens...
(Bishop)