Insects must be purged

[21:25] The world glistens beneath his footfalls, blue mana infusing the world around. In turn, the insects that swarm about him, that follow his beck and command draw the lifeblood from the world, pollen and nectar, actual blood and morning dew, to revitalize the archdruid. Cairn marches forwards, his face obscured by the war mask of decaying wood..

..And yet he marched, with purpose. His insects had spotted something, and though they could not commune as one would expect, there were more subtle ways of alerting the swarm. The sickening sweet smell of insect pheremones that clouds the air, the way that all of the bugs around the woodlands would turn their million eyes upon Nemein, though they would not dare to move.

The constant buzz of insects.. Perhaps it was merely because of how close they were to the swamp, and yet it would be rather obvious to Nemein, the tell-tale signs of who was coming, heralded by a cloud of static, black specks in the air that blot everything out of view.

By the time he reaches the clearing, the staff is already drawn. A gnarled branch given life through druidic magic, a decaying log whereupon a thousand new forms of life have taken over and grown into place. The bulb is alight with a brilliant yellow glow, the Queen inside of the Crescendo alive, manic, ready.

The blue stain that makes up Cairn's sightline levels over Nemein, a misty fog that rolls outwards and encompasses the area. Against Nemein's purple flame, it moves alongside, coiling around just like his own magic, as it to judge him. The Spirits, those of fire, those of the natural world, questioning him.

There's a noise from the back of the Archdruid's throat, something almost like a laugh, before he offers a phrase that was likely something he had heard very recently.

"How's the ankle?"
(Cairn)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[21:30] The Exarch was prepared this time. The blade Angus Dei was nearby as Nemein rested against the tree. Both arms folded infront of his chest, the sound of buzzing clouding the air as the swarm grew close. It was a sign that Cairn was arriving, well aware of Nemein's intrusion upon lands that were not his own. But this time, the Exarch felt prepared. The knowledge gained from the previous bout would serve as motivation in his present.

As Cairn spoke his taunt, Nemein looked down at his feet, raising his left foot followed by his right. "Which one?" The same line he gave Jangle was the very same he'd give Cairn. His back is soon removed from the wood, the hilt of the nyeshk ultrasword now grasped within his left. "I had came here hoping Tyrsienne would show. But you? I definitely owe you a second bout as well."

It might have been a fool's choice to avenge his loss. The last time he had been bested, he was lucky to have escaped twice now. This might have been the battle that his luck would have ran out. But he had survived his fight against Vasilios Quinn, emboldened by the previous bout that would serve as another boost to his morale.

Plasma fire bursts to life around his form, two hands firmly seizing the hilt of the heavy blade handle as he levels the sword towards Cairn. There was no need for words, no need for banter. Cairn had come with a goal in mind and Nemein did as well. It was time to put their previous interaction to the test, to see which of them would stand to tell the tale of victory.
(Nemein Sparda)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[21:34] * You have been awarded 1 Roleplay Points! *
[21:41] A raging demon was unleashed the second the battle began. The swirling purple flames cleave through the swarm of insects with potent force. Before, Cairn definitely had the intimidation factor on Nemein; Surrounding the Exarch in unfamiliar territory with a host of bugs devouring at his mana was sure to give Cairn the distinct edge. But not this time. Even if Nemein fought within the forest of Moonfall, he felt far more at home in Esshar's forests than the inner sanctum of Moonfall.

A jet of fire bursts from his form, the muscles suffused with plasma ripple with strength. Nemein closes the distance, his thighs burning with speed in each step as he swerves directly for the Druid. The heavy blade is brought upwards, the Exarch leaped through the air as he puts his all into the strike.

The descent is followed by the same maneuver he used, right before he realized that Cairn had sapped him of his strength. Of course, he knew it wouldn't be easy. He knew better than to assume Cairn wouldn't have a plan to subvert this momentary weakness. The blade slashes downwards, the concussive force met with a plethora of vines that soften the blow, but not halt.

The momentum behind the swing dulled, Cairn soon feels the weight of Nemein's resolve impacted his torso before he's sent skidding away. "Trying to fill me with confidence before you break me, hmm?" Nemein remarks, reaching inside of his cloak to fetch the familiar vial as usual. A levitation potion, all so that he can focus entirely on his arms instead of inputting plasma through his entire body.

It's chugged immediately, tossing the spent concoction container aside as he feels his body lift into the air. "Give it your all!" The battlecry of the Exarch rings out in the forest once more, eyes open for more insect that sought to flank him as before.
(Nemein Sparda)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[21:45] This wasn't the same person that Cairn had fought before. Perhaps it was just a matter of not having the Vale advantage, or perhaps it was that he hadn't communed with the spirits as of late. His insects are burnt away, his vines and nature magic utterly annihilated by the purple flames of the Exarch.

It's enough to make Cairn sweat, for the first time in a long while, just underneath his mask.

Though, despite the never ending onslaught that Nemein offers, he still finds it hard to land a true, decisive blow upon the druid. Whereas there are areas he may aim for that seem clean, they're quickly covered by a sudden eruption of bark upon his flesh, a wall of insects that only just barely manage to get through to protect himself. His onslaught is harsh, and it almost seems as if it would never stop..

..And yet, the vines just barely manage to stop him, casting him off and offering a moments reprise. Cairn takes that moment, a hand coming to grasp a handful of insects and actually smash them within his palm. The blood glows bright blue, and it's immediately pressed against his mask, intermingling with the decaying, wooden mask.

The staff is slammed into the dirt once more, summoning another eruption of vines and insects. He waits, for a moment, letting the blood he had placed upon the mask flow through it, the dull blue glow coming from his eyes washing over his entire body, reinvigorating him.

All the while, his free hand clutches at a fetish of bone at his side, offering quiet, mumbling prayers to nobody in particular.

There is no emotion to be seen, no wavering, no panic; He waits, stalwart and ready, for Nemein's onslaught to begin anew.
(Cairn)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[22:04] The Exarch proved himself today, swooping through the treelines, evading the plethora of insects that swarmed the skies and land. Cairn still had numbers advantage, but Nemein refused to relent. A single palm lifts off from the handle, a rapid fire of blood versus plasma balls clashing several times over as the distance is closed. The emerald gaze honed in on Cairn, swerving around vines and insects alike as the distance is rapidly broken between the two.

The plasma infused body explodes, once Nemein is point blank, a flash of heat to disorient Cairn and his insects before the Exarch flies upwards. Two hands are thus held firm onto the sword as he swan dives straight down. Vines and insect alike would not stop his charge, the arms bulging with might for one final time as Nemein prepares his grand finale.

"CAAAAAAAAIRN!"

The adrenaline rush demanded that he'd catch the druid's attention at the last second, to witnessthe last moment in which Nemein lands upon Cairn, blade tipped with plasmafire as the Exarch swings downward. No defense would remain, no insect would halt him with their suckling of his mana and blood. The grand slam was enough to rend the earth in two beneath the Druid's feet, the weight of the blade embedded within the ground as Nemein lands atop the Druid.

The close proximity demanded justice. The collar of Cairn is gripped, one punch is delivered to the Druid's face, the second strike landing roughly close to his non-covered eye. The third strike was halted, mere inches from his lips. "Why are you siding with the occultists, Cairn?! Why are you letting them ravage your land with foul magic and murdering your own people!" Nemein wouldn't release Cairn, not while he had the Druid here, to answer, to give him a means to figure out what Moonfall wanted.

"Talk, dammit!"

The fist was ready to strike again. Once more for Actaeon, Solon, Beri, Clancy, and especially Jasper.

(Nemein Sparda)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[22:15] This time, things were closer. A thousand insects responding to the beck and call of the Queen's Crescendo, the spirits of the world doing their best to push upon Cairn's assault. The insects crash against Nemein, the vines and the surging protectorates of the forest managing to block a few blows..

Not enough.

The forests burned, only to be rebuilt immediately by Cairn's mana. He moves with vigor, now, actually sprinting through the forests. The trees bent their trunks out of his way, the forest floor becoming flat and easy to traverse as his insect swarm found mana and blood where they could, aiming to reinvigorate him.

He finds solitude, for a moment, respite as he takes a moment to catch his breath. Two vines coil around his legs, before thorns pierce into his flesh, letting nutrients, mana, flow directly into him despite rooting him to the ground.. At the most inopportune time that he could find. Nemein finds his way above them, and with a quick wave of his staff, a wall of bugs and thorns finds its way between him and the Exarch.

But it does not stop him. Not this time.

He finds himself upon the ground, and instantly his fight or flight kicks in. There's panic on the druid's body for a moment, and already the ground beneath him begins to glow as he aims to escape via moving through the earth itself- Not fast enough. Nemein's fist catches against his fast, shattering it and sending splinters around, only for it to find him again.

Cairn stares upwards, the blue mist in his eyes extinguished, his will to fight severed. Dull, golden eyes, an emotionless face looks upwards as the swarm of insects flees, swarming and flittering into the forests as he loses grip upon his staff.

And then the third strike stops, just short. His eyes narrow as Nemein makes demands, his lips quiver with an emotion, something strange that Cairn never truly shows upon his face.

Anger.

"I fight. With them. Because of people. Like." He takes the moment of solace, where he pulls his head back only to spit blood outwards, aimed for Nemein's face - Or, at least, whatever insignia of the Order he may find. "You."

"You. Your Order. Who has told me, time and time again. Who has threatened. To take everything from me. I fight from the inside. I do my best to quell their actions. But nobody wants to listen. Nobody. Cares. I am just another tally on your blade. Another notch, another one of their 'followers'. Nobody cares about my story."

"Nobody cares about one man. And that is all I am."

"Just. One. Man. Who has tried. Who has given up. Who has, time and time again, tried to deal with Cornelia's brood while fighting the outside threat. I deal with them from the inside. I deal with you from the outside. Not for them. Never. For the Occultists."

"I fight. Against people. Like you."

He falls back, slowly, letting his head press against the grassy floor. His eyes flitter closed, dull gold staring into the forest's canopy, at the sun in the air. He hesitates, breathing heavy. It's striking, just how young that Cairn looks despite his actual age, despite the way he speaks. He seems tired, as if that fight had taken everything from him, as if he had nothing left to give.

"Kill me, then. Save me the solace from having to step foot into Osrona. I would rather die here. Than spend one minute in your decaying, rotten city. Your Order has threatened me enough. And I will not be. A bargaining. Chip."

He sputters, again, coughing once more. That, at least, appeared to be all he was able to say as blood pooled in his mouth again- The question of whether or not it was actually his was curious, or if his body was beginning to reject the blood his insects had gathered.

Tired.

He just looked tired.
(Cairn)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------