Exovaryn Haruke: The Last Stand - Tilandre

In the distance do the bodies of the deceased remain. Rows upon rows of Avis corpses line the battlefield as Glacium soldiers completely steam roll over the dead and the dying. The Moon Cultists are in full retreat. The Tilandrean Army is in shambles. News and battle cries quickly spread of what has happened in the field with the deaths of Moon Cult leader Lysander and Imperfect creature, Ose. However, such victories come at a price. And that price was the death of Bastet Silvertongue, the Queen he has promised to defend. The Queen...

... that Rosenkov had sworn to defend under all circumstances. The Saffron are fleeing now, but the Yokai creatures and Apostles they had brought with them were still nearby. One had fallen with aid of his hand and like a demon posessed in rage did the man lunge himself into the heart of Yokai kin with Dragonsblade in hand. Slashes dissected torsos, cleaves tore through limbs, bare bones and fists punched clean holes into ghoulish and nightmarish creatures that dared to remain in the battlefield. He may not have killed a man before, but Yokai were not men. So they? They were exempt from the rule. And they would perish by his hand.

"You Filthy, Arrogant, Greedy, good for nothing, BASTARDS!!!!"

Legs carried the man like the wind, breakneck and slitting necks in all directions as he crashed into the center of Tilandre amidst Yokai corpses, Avis bodies and Glacium dead like a creature of the Apocalypse, spat out straight from Madhaven's own filthy maws. Today, Rosenkov had lost someone dear to him.

So now, he had to make these Yokai creatures pay.
(Rosenkov)
(Read earlier post. Froze.)
(Rosenkov)
A charge for another yokai would come to meet abrupt interception with a faceless force! One more yokai, spared of his blade, thanks to the savage prod of telekinesis briefly carrying his vessel into the air to violently toil him down cobblestone road. It wasn't something one couldn't recover from in seconds, much like the metaphorical love-tap of an excitable sparring partner by comparison to what one would meet in a fair match.

" Cease and desist. " A voice spoke out, cold and fluid throughout all the chaos of war and bloodshed. The Tenebrae Imperium's leader had found way to this bout-- This Last Stand, for Tilandre's sake.
" Your slaughter of yokai kindred will end only in equivalent exchange. For the deaths of many, you will suffer a fate akin... Should you not drop your weapon to repent for your sins." A gander revealed the skull visor of the Harukean patriarch, melded to a Yokai helm.

Wading in a feeble breeze, likely residue generated from Rosenkov's casting, revealed the tattered stature of an aged Seers of Darkness cape, marred by blood to stain in the insignia of the Oracle's Mark..

" You, are a hypocrite... Standing before your judge... Face me, human... And perhaps, you may recieve redemption." The air grew cold, figure soon warped by the stygian miasma that shrouded his vessel, soon transcending into the entangling ethereal pyre of the transmundane, siphoning the very lifeforce of one's surroundings and nearby soldiers of all allegiances, clashing till the end.

" ... Or... Will you attempt to fight... And face eradication... Such is only fate. "
An arm extended outwards for the Glacium Knight, an introductory pose for pending brawl to ensue.
(Exovaryn "Voss" Haruke)
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Morbid swings and a Black Onsluaght took place here as the blood drenched man in the purple coat tore through the swath of Yokai. Just as he was about to end the life of yet another fell creature of darkness, the creature went flying sky high and was denied a fitting end for it's greedy needs of satisfaction and consumption, where a voice as cold as the night of hunt this man has left behind rang.

"Another one!? I already dealt with your Apostles and your hundreds of creatures, so who do you think you are telling me I'm a hypocrite!? What are you, some kind of Messiah!?"

In response to the call to drop his weapon, the largely agitated Rosenkov stabbed his sword on the cobblestone path amidst the blood and bone of the fallen, to stand abound and face the work of his justifiable labor. These creatures... they ate and ate and ate with no end in sight, seeking only betterment for themselves. Who this man and why did he defend them? Actually, why should he care? The war was won. Only mop up operations remained.

"I ain't killed a human before and I don't intend to start now. Alexandra fled with her life and the blood of my Queen in her hands, so join her while you still got the chance!"

The fighting would tire anyone out. Of course, with the pose Rosenkov had upon his sword, he wasn't exactly going to back down now.
(Rosenkov)
There was a stern expression mised upon his face, refusing to pivot from any but Rosenkov. What he simply couldn't understand, was his ability to stand for what he percieved to be, blatant antagonism. How could one claim to be non-hypocritical and yet fight for the West?! Perhaps, Alexandra was questionable in some regards, but the actions of the West could never be forgiven for the transgressions against his people that he managed to see for himself.

" . . . I am the true messiah of the gods of Fate. Through their bestowed power, I stand to ensure the their justice reigns true... For true justice, is malleable destiny."

With such said, he started his approach, solemn behind his mask-- Monochronic optics following the man with infernal halos about the blank cornea within. " That's just the thing.." He answered to his claim that'd follow his initial question. " You believe that only the deaths of Humans prove sinful... You fail to realize the truth of equivalent exchange... You fail to see beyond your discrimination. That, is what I intend to fix with your kind... Your people... I'll ensure they learn to recognize the error of their ways... Even if such takes time or proves drastic... It is a measure that must be taken." He was closing in, no weapon to his person, save for the intoxicating embrace of the occult.

A life siphoning force beckoned from his chest, the illumination of the Oracle's mark birthed the widespread growth of his person, ascending to heights of power capable only in the mass quantities such as the one throughout the event. It was through the exodus of invaders that the genesis of Lyperion Utovex's unveiling could truly be revealed to the world.

Two slender serpents of the void slithered from over his shoulder, barbed heads aiming for Rosenkov...
" I will not join a woman whom would nearly kill me, merely for existing... I am no human, and proud of my evolutionary advantage... You'll learn the difference betwixt me and your ilk... Now..."
A flash of aurelean light, and he'd phase before Rosenkov in seconds, already cocking a fist back...

One of the final battles of the war, in its passing climax were soon to carry out...


(Exovaryn "Voss" Haruke)
A fist dived into Rosenkov's face, catching him with a force empowered by not only cosmogonic energies but gravitational influence to hypercondense the matter about his flying fist for a crashing blow-- Intensified by the occult to send a body spiraling through the air. The battle had begun...

Into a building side, one's person would collide, sputtering dust abroad to cloak the streets nigh. Through this spawned fog of war, Exovaryn charged headstrong into battle, swathed in the Mortis symbiote that'd harden into a shield to his person, bashing Rosenkov further into the building side to pierce it under sheer pressure, forcing him to stumble into a bar's interior.

An evacuated building, left the match capable of numerous possibilities!
"How you haven't a clue, how much my hatred burns for you... Xenophobic humans.."
He started his approach casually through the dust, wandering blind without a hope of spotting his advarsary, albeit he wouldn't admit it outright. He heard something! ... A table bumped? A chair knocked over?
He slowly pivoted his head for a side, listening intently... It was much like fighting Abbadon...

"Come out, come out where-ever you are.... Human..."

Smelling out for the sweat's scent from what he'd percieve to be fear...

"You can't hide forever..."

Feeling out for movement throughout the fluctuations of matter throughout his telekinetic reach...

"I can feel your presence..."

Listening for the disturbances abroad the general scene...

"I can taste your circuit..."

A blur from beyond the permeating dust flickered his sights over for his right... Only to feel a blade gouging into his left! Blood splattered for the ceiling and lips parted behind his skull helm, pained by the strike, though not knocked down from it. Before it'd be pried from his body, he'd reach over for the Glacium's neck, catching him with an unforgiving grasp of his digits, forcing him to strain under his clutches.

A longly persisted hiss through his gritted teeth sounded off as he lifted the man above his 6'8" figure, slowly attempting to strangle the man of his last measily breath. " ... I can feel the breath, saved from your lungs... How I enjoy punishing your ilk. It is justified through your sins... Through your murders... Through your effortless violence with seemingly clear conscious. This... Is where it ends..."

He squeezed down, prepared to end the fight right then and the- He stumbled, hand lost of its grip by an arrow launched into his backside! A brazen glacium soldier had stepped into the bout, dust having waded enough to grant him the sights necessary for a clear shot at his back... One shot... That'd never break the artificial armor nor skin beneath. He released Rosenkov and failed to realize the consequences of henceforth, all fury diverted for the new presence.

"... Humans are better off, knowing their place..." He reached out, to clutch an open hand, fingers strained about a translucent ball midst his grasp. A remote connection to his target, left the nameless soldier restrained midst a faceless noose, slowly suspended for the skies as his esophagus was slowly collapsed, spinal columns trembling under the force-- Back turned towards Rosenkov to allow him to recover!
(Exovaryn "Voss" Haruke)
Exovaryn "Voss" Haruke: <*Blade fell from shoulder upon releasing Rosenkov*>
"Son of a BI-!!!"

The muffled sounds of a half baked insult cascaded like echoes through the demolished Tilandrean town, for even though the war had finished, the skirmishes did not. A flickering wrist and a wind cutting blade tore through the air, ready to swipe at this particularly potent magi when a Haymaker of Neuton's own law took the man by storm. And promptly created said storm after sending him colliding and crashing into one of the many port town homes, demolishing the homestead in the process.

The battle was now in the thickened mist of it all, for blood, dust and every other particle of smoke that dared to dance in the air began to give way to the hidden machinations of one another in combat. The man was resilient and the man was strong, so that force ought not be underestimated. No, it was time to use the properties a thief would employ in battle... and to hide in the shadows.

The Fog was as thick as molasses now... and the best was yet to come. Like a wounded prey did Rosenkov wade through the fog, moving as fast as his body could carry him around the destroyed plaza. Sometimes ducking beneath a broken shop stand, sometimes hiding outright behind a wall, the power of sound and illusions worked well in tandem to mask one's assault and approach upon the man.

But as always, the rush of battle brought forth mistakes. The actions of a novice. Occassionally would he step on glass. Or move a table. Or even bump into a chair at high speeds in an effort to strike at the man's vital points whilst he was unaware of his pressence. Speed and stealth were his friends here, so to lose their aid was to lose this bout.

And maybe even his life.

"Taste THIS!"

And with a battle cry did the purple blur charge forward in a bloodied frenzy and Dragonsbane in hand, to tear deep into the man's shoulder and try to use the same inertia to shovel the man down. But wait, what's this!?

A hand found it's way upon his neck and as the blade was yanked away with serrated edges to permit the ribbons of crimson to dance amidst the decorum already laid to rest, the magi was held in the air with strentgh to rival his own. Gasping breaths, wriggling body, Rosenkov was now a fish out of water as he tried desperately to kick and swing at the man in lieu of seeking salvation.

But as luck would have it, the Glacium were plenty and their numbers were... well, numerous. A lone ranger found the time to draw from a longbow and mark a bead upon the Haruke's back. With a swingle twang of string and a whistle in the air did the arrow find it's mark and this blessing? This blessing in the form of camaraderie? It would not be wasted. The man found rage to fill his veins and exact vengeance upon this one common man that had now saved his life and where most cowards would've fled? This coward stood on tall.

"Why don't I show you yours first then, asshole!?"

And with a short recovery and an equally frenzied look in his purple eyes, the man charged anew at his now turned back to try and return the favor his own men had brought to him. A friend in need is a friend indeed.
(Rosenkov)
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Hermione Augustine: <*Is ignored and is left all alone by both parties... Have fun with the sword, I guess?*>
Pebble: *Will feel guilty about this and never be able to properly apologize to Hermione*
Ana Roh'hi'tin: <*ignores kids because she hates them*>
Pebble: *Got way too caught up with Arguing with Ana ohboy*
A choked soldier would not recieve rest through Exovaryn's strangulation methods, turning his gander over to Rosenkov...
" Still insist on fighting?..."

The Harukean was heavily injured from the blade's successful shovel into flesh, and with the blade left to the ground just feet before the magi, it wouln't have taken too much effort to lunge for it.. To continue onward to him...

"So be it... Make my day, human..." He lowered his hand, however, a sole tendril unveiled from his spinal region lashed out to impale the man, gleaming a distinct vermillion at the site of contact to siphon away at his raw vitality, replenishing his own.

He launched himself forth, allowing the serraded length of tendrils to clash strong with one's blade, heaving one only thanks to the might mised behind his own force. One of magically enhanced physicality and the other of magically enhanced properties. Through the bar they went, toiling over tables to force Rosenkov to a wall-- A push that resulted in a full repel to the Harukean's stature. A tendril lashed out for his left side, wrapping about the leg of a nearby chair to launch it for an encroaching Rosenkov only to be shattered with the falling of a blade.

Through the woodchips and dust, their eyes glared with intensity-- Such of that, it would lag the reality they brawled within to a slow-motion via stern focus. A horizontal slice of one's blade was intercepted by an uprising tendril, catching it only to allow it'd fringe to scathe his skull-visor with a dragged scar. In that moment, a hand rose, spawning an irresistable force upon the miscellaneous materials abroad the bar, from mugs to chairs, forcing their spontaneous flight into Rosenkov...

He could slice away at their incoming forms, but would inevitably be overwhelmed... Forced to a wall once more...
" My place?" What seemed to be a limp body of Rosenkov was levitated back towards Exovaryn, allowed to float just inches away from his cocky person.
" You clearly haven't a clue what you're dealing wi-" Sudden animation, and then... A slice of the blade-- Undodgable... Having shattered his helm that'd save him from its clear-cut through his head. The alleged Harukean Patriarch's sacred helm... Destroyed...

Now, one could gaze upon the amalgamation of hundreds of unfortunate persons meshed into a single visage, dominated by a long lost Glacium Knight's face, scowling at his opponent. "How dare y-" Another interuption through the vertical crashing of one's influence vertically upon another that'd quake the scene... A powersmash of epic proportions, shaking the structure at its base.
Almost immediately, the Harukean retaliated with a pounce into the Glacium Knight, lunging their intwining bodies for the ceiling, blasting through it, and ending up in a bedroom of frightened civillians...

He levitated midst the room, allowing Rosenkov to rest near the whole he was tossed up through... Now on the second floor of the bar, now tavern... Wordless as he awaited the swordsman to stand once more.
(Exovaryn "Voss" Haruke)
"You BET YOUR ASS!"

Sword in hand, body in motion and wind at his side, the Glacium Paladin that ever posed to be a rogue went up with the flurry of spite and action he held. Injuries marred his body, ranging from cuts, to bruises, to outright shrapnel. His purple coat was torn in a thousand places, his hair disheveled and caked with blood and gore. And even as he lunged forward, this man. This creature was proven to have inhuman vitality and strentgh unlike most have seen.

"I fought off a Half Angel, I can fight YOU off!"

Dragonsbane was his only friend here. He had to cling close to him, for not even the wind defended against this man. The plaza was entirely demolished in their encroaching approach as blade struck tendril, razor sharp gale struck darkness and bone struck bone. Tables, walls, chairs, bodies, none of these mattered. They would all come to the air and to a bloody pulp in one way or another as they brought a destructive battle in their wake. The Glacium did not have a foothold in the pirate city yet, so they would not be coming to save him should his foolish rage get the better of him here. Flight was no longer an option.

So now they toppled into a bar, or rather, the onslaught of gravitational pulls and occultic blasts pushed the man into it. Back against the wall, blade in hand and blood still pumping, Rosenkov would not surrender. No matter how bad the situation was, so with great fury and focus did he steel his nerves and his blade.

A flick of the wrist and a tendril was parried away. A swipe of the hand and a table was utterly ahnihilated. A quick kick to decimate a leg and present ever more fog to attempt and strike forth, only to be met with another blast of energies... one that held the man in place, but destroyed the wall behind in a blaze of glory and prowess. This was going to be a very long day. His body lost it's balance. The weight it carried was gone. It was brought forth to the man to be levitated and possibly made fun of and before long? Such was the case. The enfuriated Paladin would have none of it.

"SHUT!"

A fully malicious swing of the blade towards the man that didn't just daze this man, no. It demolished his mask, a chance for fighters to finally meet face to face and see eye to eye. Dust continued. Tendrils began to surge around and sting at his exposed flesh, to rend at opened circuits and tear into his skin. But this was far from over.

"THE FUCK!"

Another swing, this time two handed, with enough force to blast the man out of his feet and lose his gravitational pull upon him. Such was the strentgh of the swing that it caved the floors and rocked the foundations of the bar they stood in, with the two now several feet beneath the bar. The only difference was, Rosen landed on his and this man? He didn't.

"UP!"

But before he could swing again and crush bone and hopefully bring this fight to an end on his favor, the man surged with a blast of cosmic energies. From the ground, through the roof and using the body of the Glacium as a ramming grill to tear across wooden planks, concrete and stone. It wasn't a pleasant experience. So as his body landed down to the ground where civilians of Tilandre hid and cowered in fear, they could see the blood spattered and bruised body of Rosen, taking the slag of combat and forced to rest if even for a few seconds.

Everything hurt.

What didn't hurt, didn't work.

What didn't work was being supplemented by mana, but it could only carry the man so far...

So just as his opponent levitated into the second floor of the bar and Rosenkov took his ever sweet time to come to a stand and draw upon his sword anew, he stood there in full defiance to continue the fight. Knowing fully well that his injuries were starting to add up and that if he didn't turn the tides? He wouldn't be able to fight back.

"You... what are you!?"

But before he waited for an answer, to the chargrin of all these innocents nearby? He jumped into the air with an overhead swing to smash down this man to the ground. Time to get answers with one of them on the ground. Hopefully Rosen wouldn't be the one eating dirt this time around.
(Rosenkov)
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"GRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!"

High speed strikes would win the battle here. As was taking the first shot against this man, he who wielded gravity with the force of a building. The civilians from the bar? They ran in fear from the second Rosenkov began to stand, so their fates? Unknown to all. With extreme prejudice and Dragonsbane in hand did the Glacium swordsman crash down upon the Haruke, to slam him down upon the very same floor he had caved in early and narrowly avoided injuries of the massive kind.

It was at that point in time that the entire bar came crashing down upon them, for too much damage was taken and the earth shattering quakes caused by the two magi in full bodied combat would be too much, but it was by grace of prowess that he would not be in the full receiving end of this massive establishment crushing down upon them, no. His opponent would be the shield this time around.

But the Haruke was fast. He was very fast.

In the same moments that the man pounced upon him with murderous intent, tendrils of all shapes and sizes lashed out at him in the few seconds it took to pounce. Some were struck away with the blade, but others had the pleasure of stabbing the man. Over and over and over again in their entire trip into the depths of the bar. By the time the massive location crashed down upon the two, the body of the Haruke would be nowhere in sight and Rosenkov would now be jumping away into the air and unto the demolished plaza with eyes scanning the horizon as quickly as can be. He may not have been as fast as Rosen, but he was very slippery. Where did he go!?

"Get back here! Hiding is MY thing!"

Eyes would dart everywhere, sound magic would amplify noises in the air, echoes of all types would come crashing to his eardrums. Some were the wails and cries of pain from others. Some were the battlecries of Avis and Glacium still locked in mortal combat. Some were the screeches of Yokai being slain or feasting on a freshly earned kill on civilians and soldiers alike. But the one that gave way to the Haruke came far too late and worse yet? It came from ABOVE.

"What the-!?"

An explosion of occultic and cosmic properties came raining down upon him shortly after, with only a few seconds to spare escaping away from such a dreaded impact. This man could fly. Well fuck, this is just great. They had also just demolished the BIGGEST building nearby too, so how the fuck was he going to swat him down now!? Worst yet, that attack took something away from the man. Something precious and dear to him.

His purple coat was now demolished and torn, left behind as a reminder of what would've been his charred corpse were he not fast enough. It is only by Kraus' saving grace that the man decided to bring with him armor underneath his coat, rather than bear his chest out in the open air where swords and arrows could pierce through without restraint. They took his Queen and now they took his Coat. This was about to get uglier than it already was, so with a shout into the air, Rosenkov prepared his stance anew.

"You tore off my favorite fucking coat! I'm gonna kick your ass!"
(Rosenkov)
(Read above shonen.)
(Rosenkov)
Speed was a feat thanks to only the cosmic affinity he utilized to his absolute advantage. When movement seemed limited by even a miniscule margin, the energies of his star, suckled up by the Oracle's Mark enhanced not only his strength and magical prowess, but even his speed for brief moments at a time. Nigh spontaneous albeit far from such physical endeavors of his opponent-- It was merely the usage of bursts of velocity rather than controlled bolts about the field.

Though, in time... The battle would come to further hiatus...
Exovaryn had seemingly vanished? There seemed to be no further strikes from his person... A shortlived solace comforted only by the horrendous screams of dying men and screeching yokai-- The battle for Tilandre was coming to an end, but the fighting would not stop despite the claim of war's end.

" The only one whom hides from fate...-" A voice responded to a claim, arousing attention to one airborne above. "-is one whom is blinded of his future. " The only thing one would have time to realize, would be the gargantuan spheroid crafted of Cosmogonic Occultism, warped into an orbical construct. It's presence sung at a high frequency, screaming with the intensity of hundreds of saws, chained through mechanics that'd never know Eternia's current setting.

It was a massive ball of corrupted mana, depraved in itself throughout-- A blast forged to sufficient size to compare to a mere child with the concentration melded intent on leveling an entire building in itself. One's reaction to such was unseen by Exovaryn whom hovered above, only to see the blast eventually touch ground, releasing a groundshattering halo that'd sweep the lands. An eruption of energy ruptured the scene, rattling the scenery and outright shredding apart a nearby building. The alabaster hemisphere dawning from the tormented earth's surface engulfed matter that failed to sway from it's expanding embrace, reducing them to naught but blackened shards, fluttering about its exterior.

The boom of the crash was all that'd prelude the phase to white...
In the wake of such destruction, a cloak was outright ruined, surprisingly leaving Rosenkov intact enough to continue fighting!
As the smoke cleared, Exovaryn's visage shifted slightly, perplexed as to how one managed to sustain throughout.

" You're still alive? ... Certainly impressive, for even a magi... Perhaps, you have potential. If only you could see the world as it truly is, rather than skew one's self through the false Krausites that guide you." He lowered his arm, seemingly ignoring the threat thrown at him.
"... No matter... I'm done playing games. I'm going to end this scuffle, once and for all."

Hair was caught in the updraft of his descent, beckoning a soft looming brush of the wind upon his landing, soft despite his excessive weight. " I suppose you shouldn't be surprised that I've been holding back this whole time. It is impressive that you've managed to keep up until now though. Truly unfortunate that I'm not able to unveil the fullest extent of my power, but this will do for now..."

There was an errie silence... A calm... A hiatus with his landing, finally standing on level with Rosenkov for once...
The earth seemingly quaked at one's volition, violently despite the lack of terramancy to one's control. A glow of intensified aurelean ensnared his body, soon engulfed by the brewing transmundanic presence within, twisting the aura into a thick lavender pyre... Growing further congealed than its previous stature.. Boiling? No, there was something else afoot...

From his very skin, the Mortis symbiote bubbled: From pores to the out-most flair of miasma... Grit teeth finally gave way to an outright exclaimation for the heavens, ringing it soundly for the horizon's people to hear. A flash of light... And soon, a pillar of outright gloated potence! One that threatened to scar the very clouds above...

In the wake of an all-out unveiling of Lyperion Utovex to one's person: Mastered. It was a power unseen since Eutan's age, and one knew it well.
Within the aura, a grinning Harukean stood... waiting...
"... Come now..."
The tendrils upon his backside had melded together for a single tail, resting behind upon upon shattered cobblestone, though for the most part, he seemed relatively the same physically...

" I'm only getting warmed up... "
(Exovaryn "Voss" Haruke)
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Nia Wolf: ....
A new form...
A new level of power...
One step closer to furfilling the dream put together decades ago, aspired to him by Ruos... To succeed Eutan and reclaim Mormegil! It was a childish dream once, but now he was closer than ever... And this was the power he intended to use to get it... This was the power of his race climbing closer to a pinnacle when in use by his vessel.

A blink, and one's form appeared mere inches away, soon carting forth the gales generated in his flash-movement: Dashing with the energies of Cosmos, to imitate flicker movement. At close range, he only stared emptily into Rosenkov's eyes. " Why do you idle? " It was simply him, toying with his new power.. Power that was soon manuevered around via one's translucent cloak. He omitted sensory perception of one's visualization albeit he'd fail to escape one's concentrated wrath.

"You're capable of transcending beyond common perception, but you still exist within my reach. " A stealthy Rosenkov was mercilessly toiled through building-work and street alike, soon forced before a still-idle Exovaryn, dusted enough to allow perfect visibility of his figure. Oddly enough, the Harukean placed Rosenkov -behind- him, seemingly disregarding him... Or so it'd seem...
He pivoted his head, only enough to face halfway, an eye just peering at a corner to acknowledge the man's presence.

" What makes me question this scuffle the most... Is the tenacity behind your endeavors... Despite the odds being stacked against you..." He turned around to make his approach, rather at-ease. What reason did he have not to fret potential defeat, just yet? " It's... Interesting..." What seemed to have motivated another strike, whether it'd be through taunt or simple opening would be parried with.... His arm? A risen arm caught the fringe of one's blade, not with one's digits but the brunt of armored flesh... Caught by the Mortis material that clung to his vessel...


An armor and weapon in-one.


" If only you were a soldier of the Tenebrae Imperium... You'd do well." He commented, raising his other hand to flatly rest against Rosenkov's chest.
"... Unfortunately, such is not the case..." There was a pause... As though anticipating his attack, yet praying for his execution to drag just a moment too long. It only took an instant for a situation's status to alter...

A sudden boom... And a shockwave emitted from his palm punched the magi, dead in the chest to force him toiling through the streets of Tilandre. His horizontal flight was soon met in velocity by an overhanging Harukean, arms crossed and person relatively casual in demeanor as he watched his victim fly against their volition. The visage adorn was growing stoic, as though thoroughly disappointed dispite the innumerable scathings upon his vessel that implied otherwise, in terms of conflict difficulty.

" Nnn- NYRAH! " A battlecry sounded off midst an aerial flip, allowing one's opening into a vertical tail bash down for the... Earth? No... The water. Exovaryn had pushed this conflict for the land's end in literal means... Allowing Rosenkov to slowly wade for the bottom until he'd eventually recollect himself. As a magi, it would've been suspected that he'd be able to sustain himself in such condition... Perhaps, even underwater for a limited amount of time... At least, Exovaryn took assumption of such.

He too, dived into the waters, slowly hovering down to continue a battle beneath the sea's surface, on a limited supply of air. Taking advantage of one's beaten form to induce drowning? Too impatient to see him leap from the surface? Reasoning as to such seemed hard to point out, but the fact that he seemed more than determined to continue the brawl in such altered scenery was more than clear.

A reered fist was cocked in preparation for a blow to the gullet, seemingly aimed to force a gasp for air that would never come...
(Exovaryn "Voss" Haruke)
Time and again did this man move. How was he just getting started? No. Impossible. He's taunting the man yet again. Idle banter amidst fighters as sword swung and tendril struck. With every second came an eternity of posibilities and with every swing came an awe inspiring cascade of momentum. This man met Rosenkov in speed and power, but only sheer force of will would see one of them through. And time and again did this man prove his piece in strentgh. The only redeeming quality left in Rosenkov's arsenal was his Tenacity, for he simply didn't know when to quit.

And that would eventually get him killed.

With each of the man's blinks, a blind strike into nothingness. With each motion, a crushing blow of a blade who's edge began to grow more and more blunt with each passing with. With every step, a man who let the fury and adrenaline of war get the better of him when running away would make no one call him anything less. And yet.

He still. Kept. Fucking. Talking.

And that was all Rosenkov needed for fuel to keep fighting on like the imbecile he truly was.

"Why won't you DIE?!"

One more strike against the man's persona to be caught in his arms. Was it... skin? Or was it steel? Felt like steel. Also sounded like it too. Or at least that's what It was for Rosen. His blade continued to grind against the defense of the man even as he spoke, to feel the well placed rage of the man before him. A weak simple minded fool who knew how to swing a sword. At least he know how to swing that sword well</i.>

The sword reeled back. Both hands were taken and in an all out assault to end the duel that had destroyed most of the city, a blast came. Another one of many, to send him spiraling away and crashing into the not so serene edge of the water. The taste of brine, water and blood was abundant for the bodies of the dead infested the waters as well and worse yet? That putrid blood stained seawater was now riveting into the mainland, courtesy of a fully powered Harukean blast.

But water would not stop him. Wind was a fickle thing and while it certainly lost effectiveness in the middle of the ocean, it would not stop the man from breathing. Drowning was the least of his worries, but it was all very much possible that it could kill him.

So when that fist to the gullet came? Air was drawn. And it was drawn forth in force.

A litteral cannon of air pushed from his mouth, hard enough that the ocean's surface exploded in a shower of viscera and crimson dyed liquid, enough to blast the man away and grant a chance for the Glacium fighter to draw breath and make a hearted sprint for the beach side. This would not be the end of him and he would not let him get the best of him here. With literal salt to cover his wounds and the sting and heat of defeat hanging loosely in the air, this fight will not continue under water. But on the bright side?

"Nowhere left to run... Open fields now. Come on Asshole, lemme see you do that AGAIN!"
(Rosenkov)

A beach side brawl. As if combat wasn't already switching enough, they have destroyed MadHaven, the town plaza and parts of the city, now they had to take the fight to the goddamn beach side and the docks.

So you bet your ass it's gonna get explosive here.

Rosenkov would now play the game of patience, much like the man did before him. Aetherial forms of energy hid away the astronomical properties within the opposing man, for the darkness he coveted would blanket his vision in ways most foul. And by the time his eyes would open anew, the man was gone. Vanished. Dissappeared.

Did he finally flee from combat? Did he finally decide to be a coward and take this one moment of freedom and victory while they have superior numbers? No. Once again, speed, stealth and sound were his friends here. He vanished into thin air, cloaking himself. His mana signature. His heartbeat into naught but silence. Only the fires of the nearby war would blanket the ears of the duo now.

And whilst he hid away? Images of Rosenkov coming in to strike at the man began to flare up at a breakneak pace. Where would he strike from? A slash from above! Only a shadow. A stab from the side!? Just a clone... An underhanded uppercut coming from the front!? What! Another illusion!? Imagery that pelted the forsaken haruke by the dozens to further beleaguer his senses and tamper away his cosmic reprisal from earlier, denying his senses, denying his gut.

It was only a matter of time an opening would be found and after such distractions brought the floating inhuman lifeform to the beachside? He would find the real man. It did not come from behind, or from below or even from the sides. No, it came from the front as a Rosenkov took a full sprinting start and rode the wild winds at his side to blast his speed into the stuff of legends and grace the Haruke's own face with the same haymaker he graced Rosenkov when this all started. A fully fledged skull cracking fist, meant to bewilder the man further. It's clear that would not kill him or even wind him a smidge.

At best? Rosenkov just pissed him off.

So Dragonsbane was taken and just like that haymaker came, so too would come the follow up immediately after.
(Rosenkov)
Contrary to one's belief, the fist delivered to his jaw did more than merely piss him off. Teeth were dislodged and gums ripped apart in its embrace. A cheek wastorn asunder, and debris was splattered for the grounds nigh. He was.... Tricked into landing! Now stricken by a fist that laden more damage upon him than most of what came prior. It was... Something he was clearly not prepared for.

... Bested?. . . No, there was a clear disadvantage here. He couldn't stay too close! A sword crafted of Dragon's bone lashed out for him, shredding open at his abdomen to splatter blood for the beach's sands...
He was running out of time... He needed to get out of this scene and back into a stature in which he could retake advantage. Wheezing ... Croaking... He was clearly in no condition to gloat as he once did.

Suddenly, he was quiet... Incapable of rapid regeneration due to the strain of the ability he pushed towards. He'd need to recede his power to start up the regeneration process... But then, he'd risk getting weaker... Too weak to take down his opponent with his own vitaility withering. He couldn't lose here... Not now... He had a people to protect, to watch over... And a land to revolutionize!

"N- no..." He forced himself to murmur, backpedalling out of weakness...  " I... Will not... Allow myself to fall... Not like this..."  He was struggling to stand by now... Finding himself in severe need of recooperation...
Mana... That's what he needed. However, in the current setting? There wasn't any mana to go around... The only source, happened to be Rosenkov: A realization that angered him to the core... Further festering the ethereal pyres of his unmastered volition.

He needed a strategem... A sidebound glance for the horizon found some distance worth of space where he could likely overhang the ocean's surface... But wouldn't one's ellusive grasp manipulate him into landing once more? No, he couldn't face this swordsman outright, not when physical strength forced him to pull back... He needed to condone to similar tactics: Stealth.
Thus, he took off for the skies... Seemingly... Fleeing? If so, he was heading in the wrong direction.

"I REFUSE TO FALL TO A VALMASIAN LIKE YOU!"
(Exovaryn "Voss" Haruke)
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And then he... Disappeared? It seemed so odd for one such as himself to flee a battle he once so- A tail whipped out to wrap around Rosenkov's neck, cutting off his lungs from the atmosphere abroad. One could squirm, but his clasp would only tighten, tail elongating only to bring the warrior's back before him, allowed to stare off at Tilandre's mainland in the looming distance.

As though to further torment his inability to breath, a fist thrusted into his back aimed at the spinal cord, leaving a rippling tingle that'd traverse the system; It was a blow that'd be followed by another... And another... An endless sequence that failed to speed up in its torturous endeavor. To leave one unwilling to even squirm against the blows and sore back, and to leave one further winded despite their ability to breath. Unconsciousness was looming in... Though, one would not have that pleasure just yet...

" I've been thinking as to what I'm going to do with you..." He outright stated, pausing for a moment of judgement. " I could vaporize you, and be done with this quarrel..." He started, paused... "- But then, I could consume you and grow more powerful... " One's tail relinquished the Glacium Knight, allowing him to fall to his knees in fatigue... As Exovaryn levitated upward for a finishing blow...

"No... I want to save my appetite for the Acrux. Consuming it will bolster my powers far beyond anything I've come across thus far. " A hand was reached out with the garnered distance, aiming directly for what he'd suspect to be a stationary swordsman, one whom had been spent of the last of his energy... One that could not manuever from death.

" In any regard, I'm certain the eternity of star incineration will prove... Worth it, in its own regard. In your lasting memory, you will have known a mere fragment of Harukean power." The buzz of one's manifested energy simultaneously spawned an orb of the Occult. The very essence of the Cosmos, further amplified this energy, finalized with extremely potent gravitational influx enacted upon his craft. Concentration of the blast was taken forth, built up to clear excessive degree... It wasn't mean't for the destruction of Rosenkov alone... It was intended to wipe out him and every other Glacium and Nivis man within a block's region.

" Today, on your last day... You will know the name of Exovaryn. "

"THERE IT IS! FIRE!"
Arrows reigned the skies to prickle him, leaving him gattled by their ravenous prods. Any ordinary man would be forced to succumb to death's embrace, albeit Lyperion Utovex had kept his physical stature hardened upon the oncoming strikes, bounding the bolts off of his person with their heads still imprinted upon artificial armor and skin alike.

A vicious rip of his head from the scene, turned angry eyes unto the attacking warriors, making another stand thanks to their victory over the mainland. With a clear win, there were plenty of excess, which left Exovaryn troubled in his endeavors. He took his attention off of a fatigued Rosenkov... Even for an instant, which allowed one to start an attempt to make a run for it, a dive... Anything, that woul inevitiably turn Exovaryn's attention back with a sickened scowl, thrusting the blast of his creation after the Glacium magi....

... He missed...
But the collision with the earth just feet from behind him would spawn and explosion that'd toil him raggedly across the scene, eventually tossing him into the ocean... Where he'd slowly wade for the bottom.
An explosion faded the scene to white on the surface... Which left Rosenkov's body... Omitted to Exovaryn's perception.

Dead? It seemed so, and the Harukean was less than enthusiastic to stick around in his current condition. The blissful hush of his flight into the horizon sounded off... and then.... Silence... The platoon of soldiers prior were scattered, some injured, others shakened with few casualties.

Tilandre had lost the war, but the Tenebrae Imperium's meddling in the event was not shakened... For them, this was but merely a new beginning... Perhaps even, the beginning of the end.
(Exovaryn "Voss" Haruke)
Even in the midst of battle upon the beach side, Rosenkov's spirit proved to be indomitable. But that would not win him the battle and in one moment from loss of concentrate and precious blood, he failed a critical slice and fell victim to one of many tendrils he has staved off in this long and bloodied battle of wills here. Legs wriggled, the sword had fallen into the sands, the man struggled with the tendrils with all his might all while snarling like a rabbid dog and kicking like a rabbit. His life was on the line and this? This seemed like it'd be the end.

But death would not come easily, nor would it come quick. Countless cuts into the flesh did not puncture muscle, numerous impacts into the body did not shatter bone and while each and every strike creaked and cracked the muscles of the spine, the specimen that the Haruke had captured had proved his resilience. Countless years spent training and tempering one's body had finally proven themselves worth it... as if seducing ladies wasn't enough.

But even as the pain came and crushed down upon his core, he did not scream in agony. No, he screamed enraged and of the things he'd do to the man if he was released with his dying breath. He was stubborn t'ill death, to be remembered just as he had lived.

So when the body was dropped down and the sword was nowhere insight, agonized and shakky movements attempted to bound to man to his feet. Legs failed to respond to command, blood vessels failed to hold enough blood for strentgh and energy waned like the lunar phases of the god they came to destroy today, so with no regrets save for not being able to punch this man one last time, Rosenkov attempted to stand.

At some point, his weapon of dragon bone somehow reached his hands anew, caked in sand and blood to help bring the man to his feet. A name was uttered. An orb of light filled the air and sound was beginning to be drowned out in the thoughts of malice and anger at this man and the news received. He dared to come here, preach his word and treat him like he was nothing. Like Rosenkov was just another maggot in an army of many. In the face of death did he draw his sword, a pauper ready to fight against a blast that would vaporize even the hardiest of soldiers.

But instead, he was saved again. In the same way he was saved before.

And that didn't stop him from doing what he intended to do.

Every fiber of his being steeled itself, with magic and force of will channeling down his arms. The wind was still at his side and this time he won't miss. He can't miss, for his life rides on it. Exovaryn was distracted by the arrival of backup and just as he fired his blast? Dragonsbane came down upon it. Rays were deflected elsewhere into the now hole riddled township of Tilandre. Some skyrocketted into the heavens to be absorbed by the Cosmos above. Some even blasted into the water, sending explosions in all directions in reckless abandon.

But it wasn't enough and the blast went through and Rosenkov?

Well, only his sword remained wedged in the sands, whilst his body drifted away into the waters, floating away in unconsciousness with limited oxygen, to wake minutes later and have one last struggle against the forces of nature in a vye for life and supremacy.

By that time, his opponent for today, Exovaryn? He would surely be gone without a trace.
(Rosenkov)