Aeron: The First Umbral Curse Rune

The two sides had been forced to a grinding halt, a standstill that'd know no progress from either leader-- Until... It happened.
It was the shot heard around Frostvale: A spell hurdled over towards one of the many lesser yokai, killing it instantaneously on impact. Reason enough for Aeron to fire his gander from the King for one of his many ilk had suffered from the wrath of humanity in his very presence...

--And now, he was standing before their numbers... Furious that one, defiant of their king, would test him.
"ATTACK!"" He exclaimed, voice ringing out for the heavens and bludgeoning every mind akin to a hammer mercilessly damning its anvil.

The command, was respected with the immediate swarm of his lesser kindred and affiliates, diving headstrong into battle. He, himself did not sprint mindlessly into the masses... Rather, took to a pace through their looming numbers, skimmering past his legs to meet metal with claws.

Warriors that lacked magical attunement were tackled and assailed without mercy, whilst magi were struggled against. "How I hate your ilk down to the very soil you stand upon... Feeling so entitled to what should've been swatted from your possessions the moment you learned to pick up the wooden spear, and spawn forth flames from your dark ages." He monologued, eventually coming to land his eyes upon an individual soldier, skimmering backwards in his venture-- A brazen soul.

"Though, you are worth more than that of fodder to me..." He admitted, "You are valuable tools... Weapons... Instances that I intend to utilize to ensure my visions are complete without intervention." He'd reach down to swoop a mere man up with a single arm, now clutching their body whole in his grasp, high above that of the immediate terrain.
"You are all ants... Hypocrites... Genociding scoundrels and vermin that are overdue for cleansing... But fret not, I will do you the favor in true mercy... By opening your eyes to the truth: Perfection."

The very life of a Frostvalen bound solider was siphoned from his vessel, implied by the vermillion gleam that emanated from the seems of his grappling digits and their flesh and armor-- Only a husk would remain...
As to those whom would approach him still, he waited, weilding the body in his grasp akin to a trophy of war, glorified in its morbid embrace.
(Aeron)

Justice.

It was a word that had been thrown around a lot recently. A word that had been discussed and discussed, plotted about and plans were being made. But, none of those mattered. Words were only so strong. In the end, Cimiron only had talked as much as he had to say something, and then. . . Only as clear and concise as he needed to be.

Now was not the time to talk. It was the time to act.

A screech rung out and a yokai died. Someone did not listen to the king. As such, the leader gave the order to attack. Cimiron could feel a ghastly aura coming from this one, an aura that continued to attempt to consume him. Taking a deep breath, he'd nod, Vali was gone. Still, he had Ladon with him.

"Ladon, by my side." Speaking to the boy to his side, Cimiron would continue forward until eventually, Aeron would be in front of them, both by his own volition and Cimiron seeking him out. His titanic hunk of a blade would be hefted onto his shoulder, likely Ladon's was the same. Holy aura surging around the Krausite, he'd listen to Aeron's words.

". . . You speak too much. Come, Kaor, show me the actions to back up your claims." Taking a deep breath, the spire that Cimiron had made rise from the ground prior to the entire fight subtly cast it's influence on the lot of them, filling the two Frostvalian fighters with newfound vigor and strength.

"Kraus and Ryujin stand with us, Ladon. Stand strong."

Let the fight begin.
(Cimiron Ganlo)

 It seemed as though it was such a random moment for this all to happen. All of these yokai were comign forward, seeing some sort of retribution, but for what? If anything, after the battle, more of their people were killed and taken than theirs. It amde him really think about how reall these battles were getting, and how they were truly started to get more and more dealy. With the amount of yokai within the war rising, it was getting harder for there to be any fair fights. Though, nothing is truly fair in war, something he has learned the hard way.

As the call for war was made out, that was when all of the battles began to happen. People ran forward, while yokai waited for their attacks. It made him think how many people were going to get out of the battle alive? Of course, the chances were high for a casualty, and things were looking to be even on a means of strength. Perhaps this meant the fact the armies were beginning to finally even out, and perhaps he was just overthinking the entire situation, when he should be worried about him.

Quickly, he found himself sticking with Cimiron, the one that he currently trusted. With the massive slowing he did to Ladon in their previous battle, and Ladon's powerful attacks, it was possible that the two could pull together and take on any kind of foe. That statement was however put to the test, whe before them stood the Kaor Yokai, Aeron. It was official at this point. Ladon had fought every kind of yokai now, besides an imperfect, one he wishes he will never meet.

He watched as the yokai stood there, acting as though we were simply the pawns on a chess set, and the ants that all needed to be killed off. As if they were nothing but uselss bags of meat that serve no other purpose but to make them strong, and food of coruse. It seemed as though we were valuable, and trash at the same time, something that began to anger the young pureblood drakanite.

With a scowl, he yelled out to the yokai. "You stand here and act as though we are the true evil of this world, how we are nothing but tools that are used by you to take over this country. You stand here and call us hypocrits, but you stand there and do the same thing!" The drakanite's blood was pumping now, seeing as he was completely into this fight. He needed to bring everything he had to the table if they were going to end up defeating the Kaor yokai.

He would quickly try to calm himself down, and looked over at Cimiron. He remembered that Cimiron was right next to him, and ready to fight with him. He knew he would have Cimiron's back, and he would have Ladon's. He took in a deep breath, and put his focus entirely on the yokai. "They both do... And they will lead us to victory!"
(Ladon Larencia)

A stomp, would shatter the tundra underfoot, bringing a gleam that's rise for the heavens in a cascading wave.
The lavender essence vaporized matter devoid of a particular magical embuement, save for the apparel adorn by magi ilk. They were more than capable of resisting outright obliteration... But were they able to sustain enough to press onward?

The site of stygian fulmination would subside to reveal a massive crater that'd span for meters-- Two warriors wrought into its sides, with the Kaor idling at the center-- Already presuming its victory.
"How expected..." He claimed, turning his attention away from the two, as though expecting the battle already won.

"So much as flick my wrist upon the plebeans you call warriors, and I can erase, dozens..." He went on, arriving to the lining of the crater to demonstrate the truth to such rhetoric. A literal wave of his arm, now aiming for the battling masses over yonder would command the earth to quake at his whilm. Subterrainean accumulations were in-motion, and the generation of overflowing mana soon pressed upward to dimple at the earth beneath so many of his own ilk and non-magi alike.

It'd crackle... Snap apart to unveil a fissure in a sundered earth, before outright evolving into a half-sphere erected from the earth; Opaque alabaster, with a outlining shine of mauve-- Within its center, the unfortunate combatants of yokai and humans were subject to levitation, and finally eradication through a whittling gleam of light.

So many more were outright slaughtered... But only because they took the first shot... Right?
Though, the Kaor had taken to the spoils of enforcing punishment on humankind, he had forgotten something: The power of human will, assuming it wasn't broken already in those whom rested in his previously created crater.

The sounds of screams and suffering would be their motivation, should they be willing to fight it, rather than welcome it with their unconsciousness.
(Aeron)

Jumping back, Cimiron would feel the pounding magic that threatened to pervade his person. Gritting teeth would cause his jaw to hurt. He was fighting with anger in his heart, and Kraus was punishing him for it. The All-Father would be unforgiving to those who followed His tenants so closely, yet disregarded them at the last possible moment.

Screaming.

That is what would awaken him from his anger induced stupor. Looking upon the Kaor and it's comrade's, Cimiron would feel something that he did in the war. Cimiron would feel a twinge of fear deep within his gut. The Kaor was strong, much stronger than Aku was. Shaking his head, he couldn't believe it. He had won his battle with Mercy, but lost it with wisdom. He'd take a deep breath and soon it out. Calm yourself.

A familiar, steely look would overcome the boy. No more anger. No more hate. No more suffering. He would stop this, and he would stop this now. Gazing his view upon the cocky Kaor, the sword would still be atop his shoulders, the shield still pointed in front of him as he stared at the hulking monstrocity that threatened to obliterate Frostvale.

Cimiiron thought of the thousands of people that would die.

He could not let that happen.

Cimiron thought of his brother.

That wouldn't happen to the thousands of Frostvalian citizens. Cimiron refused it. Standing still, there would be something different about the boy, something like his power had grown. Gritting his teeth, he would slowly shake his head. No, clear the anger. No more of that.

No more anger. . .

"Ladon! Stay strong, fight not for us, but for Frostvale and her people!"
(Cimiron Ganlo)

As Ladon and Cimiron went into the battle, completely ready to give it his all, he kept his focus on the yokai, and how fast and powerful it was. He had seen lessers, greater, and elemental yokai, and faced them all. But this? The yokai was so powerful, and he had no clue how he was going to keep on fighting when the fact was, the two of them together were not even close enough to do anything about stopping the demon.

Ladon began to hate himself more and more simply thinking about the idea that he was about to lose in a battle again. He was angry at himself for always proving to be such dead weight. He always prided himself from coming from a pureblood household, and holding it above himself that one day, he was going to be able to transform into an all powerful dragon, that will protect Frostvale for all of it's days. He wanted to be the reason that Frostvale was going to stand.

Instead, he was standing here getting the snot beat out of him, simply by the fact that he can never seem to be worth anything to the Draco Nivis, to his friends in battle, or even to his father and other family. He knew that he was letting everyone down this way. If this yokai got into the walls, thousands of innocent citizens could die or fall to evil. He could not sit there and let that happen.

Sitting there, and watching as soldiers were fighting and losing their lives for the fact that they wanted to save their village. As his body was still sitting in the snow, and he was laying there simply thinking about the battle, instead of doing something about it. He would never expect Balen, or Cimiron to do the same thing, if they could still fight, and the case wouldn't be different for him.

He would look around, and slowly begin to rise off of the ground, maintaining standing within the snow. He looked over at Cimiron. "He... better not think that will do it... right...?" He stood there, holding his hurt arm. He knew what the case was. With a simple attack like that, they were going to lose this fight. The best they could do was fight the yokai to the best of their abilties, and hope they can stop it long enough for someone else to help out.

"You can erase... dozens... with a single attack... Dozens, meaning regular soldiers and humans... fighting, thinking it's their last battle... Their last day alive... But don't underestimate Frostvale, and the power it possesses!" His eyes would turn a deep green, as he skin would begin to grow harder, and more scaley. He was completely angered with the result of this battle, but the best he could do was fight.

"We are not just humans, or drakanites, or ookami! We are a force, and one day, it'll be the force that will end this death and destruction... You're only seeing... A tiny fraction of it. A miniscule part of it..." As he finally stopped talking, he looked over at Cimiron. "Let's keep fighting, and let's save the people of Frostvale!"
(Ladon Larencia)

They would stand...
They would rise...
An impressive feat, so tenacious their race-- Their ilk, so willful, wielding this intangible power as their aegis and fuel to power them what was originally considered impossible.

Aeron took pause from his devastation to acknowledge it with a glance over his shoulder, thoroughly impressed. "End this death and destruction?" He contortedly parroted Ladon with aggravation. "It was YOUR kind that rose with the homicidal urges that would send my race near extinction, time and time again. It was YOUR race, that had damned my race, to-- Not even worthy of SUBHUMAN RIGHTS! Treating us akin to scum... As fodder! As mere tests of might and thresholds of your own capacity through MURDER!" He shouted out in fury.

Blasts of ebonic fury were hailed across the battlefield, subjecting the scape to a plethora of alabaster dimples that'd cast off halos of shattered ice and frost: Demolition intended to rid the Kaor of the pesterance that was their continued charge, taking to minimal effect it seemed.

"It was YOUR kind, that claimed in the name of Kraus, that my race was sentenced to death. It was YOUR kind, that forced us to rise up time and time again, merely in hopes of building our own civilization."
Proximity was closed with Ladon, and an extendable tail lashed from over his shoulder to parry a thrusted weapon's fringe, enforcing a distance betwixt the two.
" -- Of attempting to make something of our own!"
Cimiron was reached out for, outright caught with his left arm and slowly squeezed at midst his digits. The two were putting up quite the fight... But it simply seemed as though the Kaor had a full advantage.
Lesser kindred swooped down from the skies: Avian chimeras, airborne with intent on distracting and badgering the magi-- And not, of meager foremost form, but of Giga-class!

Their talons would take hold of Ladon's arms, their flight directions threatening to pull him apart in their aerial suspension and upholding.
"-- Of trying to see a future that does not end with the blade of Humanity's bloodthirsty drive to see an end to any that oppose their manifest destiny!"

Cimiron was lit aflame by the pyre of the transmundane-- Skin flaying at the micro-level, albeit at a rate that his magical resilence would deny outright oblivion. He, an Exorcist, was forced to endure the most absolute of antipodals throughout the lands-- Overwhelming, a blackening force that threatening to draw clouds above their battle to omit sunlight for, if only, their battle's duration.

"I fight for my people... To save them from you, and your kind." He spoke directly in Cimiron's mind now. "--And to ever see revolution, I must enforce it in the only way you humans seemingly understand." He released the Exorcist, saving him from his plummet to the ground with a merciless kick that'd reverberate through his frame-- Slowing time in the intensity of the impact.
Bones broken? It was unknown, but for the most part, it seemed as though his body held up surprisingly well.

A body would be toiled across the icy tundra, leaving only an apprehended Ladon, clawed away at by Giga-class yokai, seeing no reason to halt should their master never call them off-- And he wouldn't, if only to see one's fear as they whittled through armor for the flesh within it.
A hand from Aeron was cast out for the man in particular, leaving him to be encompassed by a concentrated veil of eternal void.

"I care not for the integrity of my fellow ilk that fall in this bout... For even in their failures to press on, I know that they served for the cause. Standing or fallen, I will persist... Until each and every single one of you lay by my feet..." He proclaimed towards the two, taking up a pause-- "At least, under normal circumstances..."

The power he imposed upon Ladon took possession over his vessel, remotely cursing him to a one-sided variant of Voodoo magic, tearing him from the grasp of his cohorts and thrusting him for the earth below with drop of his arm: An imitation of telekinesis, albeit far too weak to bear any truth to it beyond the endeavor.
Before him now, were two of the fighters... Fallen, but conscious and alive-- Or so, he'd believe. Surrounding them? Dozens fallen from both sides-- An assault having only lost more lives, sparked by one defiant frostvallen?

"I could continue..." He started, taking to an approach to their fallen bodies, "I could kill you two right now, and proceed on to the rest... I could... Kill everyone... Destroy everything... Leave nothing but rubble in my wake, and relish in the fact that the East would have one less advarsary to badger themselves with. One less pestersome instance to bother my thoughts with..." He took a step upon Cimiron's feet, outright denying any attempt to crawl away.

"... But I won't." He leaned down to draw a single extended digit to one's chestplate, eyes seeking to pierce the Exorcist's gander. "--And do you know why?" He paused, as though expecting an answer, but would interupt to continue regardless.
"--Because I expect this to serve as a reminder... That I can purge your little civilization whenever I please." He claimed, "When I return... I will come with an army unlike that of what your people are prepared for... " He warned, "--Especially, should your people test my fury once more, as you've done this day."

The end of his appendage took to a lavender gleam, burning with its chilling embrace. It'd plunge for the armor, erroding past it akin to acid, to pierce the flesh beneath, searing one to the soul with its life-siphoning touch.
"Test me... And I will spare no mercy as I've taken towards this day, human... Perhaps, this will teach you to change your outlook on yokai... Perhaps, your kind will finally learn."

Slowly, his digits drifted through the armor, scathing the flesh to invoke suffering upon his victim, drawing out a glyph that'd span across one's chest. Throughout the act, the esoteric arcane under his command pulsated into one's body, conflicting with one's circuitry. Though, it wouldn't be injected in such a matter that would leave one writhing in pain, but rather in overwhelming quantity intended to temporarly paralyze in drowning levels of dumped stygian mana, attempting to eat its way out of this alien body dubbed Cimiron.

The mind was the primary target, bludgeoned to shatter Will-- And with the withering of Willpower to fight, the tormentuous collage of animated mental images would scatter through his vision, possessing them with undoing and absorption of countless victims Aeron had taken to in his past.

This, was the Torment of the Occult...
This, was the Umbral's Curse upon his victims...
An endeavor, strained by the marred flesh, now wearing his first practiced demonstration of Rune Magic.

This entire encounter... Was an excuse to practice and assail his enemies at once.

In the end, even if his forces were retreating, he could take to personal satisfaction knowing the true intent of his arrival was complete. Even in defeat... He had proven victor, this battle.
--And so, he'd take for the horizon, wings beating down upon the scene to grant him flight... Fleeing the scene to regroup with his ilk, and perhaps, spread havok elsewhere.
(Aeron)

Of course. Humans were tenacious. They had a desire to fight, a desire to learn, a desire to continue on with their admittedly short lifespan. They didn't live as long as the Yokai did, but that was their true strength. They didn't have long lifespans at all, so everything they did had to count. Much like this battle.

He needed a bigger shield. Everything that was struck against him, every blow of every spell and every hit from every physical attack. He was able to properly block several blows, but he wasn't able to do anything against a lot of the magical attacks. Slowly, his will began to falter and the spire of Holyground would begin to crumble slightly, only for his will to strengthen and the spire would shine brighter.

Then, he would be grasped by the Yokai.

Struggling against Aeron's fingers and palm, the paladin-in-training would look down upon his sword. It had been wrenched from his grasp. . . Closing his eyes, he'd grit his teeth, eyes closing as the wicked beast's immense occult energies would start to flood all around him. Magic was not his strong suit, but his will hadn't crumbled completely.

Yet, the more the occult burned, the more the spire of the boy crumbled, speck by speck.

Opening his eye to a slit, Cimiron would gaze upon Aeron, refusing to let himself be taken out. Not yet. From deep within the occult, his light shined, a candle amidst the darkness. Slowly, his mouth opened in the middle of the Yokai's dialogue.

". . . Y-You. . . Talk. . . Too. . . Much."

It would be at this point, the young man would be released. Blinking in surprise, his body tilted to the side a bit, only for a foot to be caught upon his arm, his shield arm.

There would be a sickening crunch.

Flying several feet away, Cimiron would land, chest up with his armor crushed and exuding blood like a beetle's would escape it's carapace. There was no doubt, from the pain that had surrounded his body and the angle in which his gauntlet was forming. . . It was broken and his shield was in tatters. The spire would be half crumbled now as he weakly looked over to his shield, a pool of blood gathering underneath him, occult burns marring his body and parts of his face.

I-Is this. . . My punishment for fueling. . . My magic with anger?

The yokai was incredibly strong, much stronger than anyone that Cimiron had ever seen. Stronger than Galahad? Cimiron didn't know. Looking upon the Kaor, there would be another sickening crunch as the behemoth stepped upon Cimiron's feet. There would be a grunt, but the human would not scream. Not yet.

The exorcist couldn't focus on the words anymore, not that he had a response to them. No, a sound would not escape his lips until the devil's finger had been placed over his chest. Was this it? Would he return to Avalon and be cast back upon Valmasia to be tested again, just because he didn't adhere to Kraus' will. . . Once?

No, worse. Cimiron would scream.

A burning sensation unlike anything the boy had ever felt before had born it's way into his chest. The tabard with the cross was gone, the armor was gone, leaving his bare chest and whatever the Umbral was burning into his skin. His not broken hand would scrabble against the ground for a few minutes. Not only was it the worst, searing pain he had ever felt in his life.

But, it was a Yokai branding it's symbol where only Kraus' should lie.

In the end, there would be Cimiron laying there, vision blurred. Reaching up slowly, he would touch the glowing mark on his chest, feet broken, arm smashed, and in his own pool of blood. Closing his azure eyes, he would pass into the abyss and give one last rebellious action towards his adversary.

Cimiron's face was one of peace as he faded to oblivion, knocked unconscious.

. . . Yet, the obelisk had slowly crumbled.
(Cimiron Ganlo)

As the battle went on, and the two of them began to push forward, Aeron, the Kaor, was beginning to finish the two of them off. It went on as for the fact that we were the true enemies, and that humans were the reason for war, the reason yokai wanted to destroy their species. He found it so hard to believe that such a strong monster was right in front of him, and took out him and Cimiron, with such ease. What was the point of fighting? If he had his strength and Cimiron, he still would not have had a chance. It made him sad, and his pride was starting to slip again...

As Ladon was knocked down against the tree, the yokai had decided right now, to spare the two of them, but only for the fact that he believed that we would learn from this, and the fact that he could have easily killed the both of them right here, and right now. Ladon felt pain all around his body. He felt as though he was put through some sort of machine, and shifted around to a point where he felt his skin was just a giant bruise covering his body.

However, as he looked up at Cimiron, his eyes widened. It was the most horrific thing he had seen. Aeron was literally, carving something into the chest of Cimiron. Ladon could do nothing to stop it, as he had to sit there and watch it all happen. In the end, it said 'Aeron was Here'... Ladon simply looked at the marking, then down. Slowly, for the first time in a long time.. tears began to cover his eyes.

He watched as the kaor drifted away from the two, to reunite with the rest of his troops. As he was finally gone, he looked at Cimiron... This was his fault again. Time a nd time again, his mistakes either costed someone else, and giving them pain. Anamaria was captured because he was too weak to save her. Felix was led over to a darker side because he didn't persuade him to do elsewise, and now, Cimiron was left with a permanent reminder as to why the yokai were threats. They both had to live with this lose now...

He looked down, tears falling into the snow, leaving little holes in the snow. It wasn't from the pain from battle. It was the pain of his pride. Punches were made at it everytime he lost, and this looked like a nail going through it. He could never protect his village... He could never truly become the fullshifting pureblood that Frostvale needed. He would forever simply be some soldier, who will eventually die out on the frontlines, being a prideless idiot...

He slowly moved over to Cimiron. At this moment, Ladon was hurt terribly, but Cimiron had gotten it a lot worse than he did. Slowly, he would carry Cimiron off of the ground. It hurt, considering during the fight, his left shoulder was dislocated, and middle finger on his right hand was broken clean in two. "I-I... won't let you die... b-because of me.." He says this, as he slowly walks back to Frostvale with him.
(Ladon Larencia)