Chapter Two: The Auran.

[[ working on a far side of the battle field from the carriages]]
Vasquiri snarled as his sleeve was caught by a flame. He extinguished it with a thought and turned his attention to the oncoming pillar of fire. Olorafien had already flown to the opposit side, and was readying himself for the containment spell.

Normally they would have invoked the goddess of wind, or the god of fire, but unluckily for them, one was locked in a carriage, and they couldn't chance alerting the other at the moment.*

"At'kriteh Telai na Olor!" he called, invoking the water god.

"Ori'Naliel Telai na Olor!" Olorafien called, invoking the goddess of earth. The two weren't strong enough to destroy this fire on their own, but together, they could contain it.

A blast of power descended on the two of them,, creating a gust of wind that barely ripple the hair of those wearing yeidin colors, but knocked the enemy off balance.

Olorafien wasted no time creating a shell of earth and rock around the fire nearest them. Vasquiri flushed the space with water as Olorafien closed the orb,five men high and ten men long. It was an impenetrable water tower, that would be useful if need be, at the moment, it was a formidable block, separating the enemy from their ranks, allowing the Yeidin to massacre the Sudao trapped on their side of the edifice.

The twins were not strong enough to take on the entire fire at once, but what could be done was done. They moved off to take on another branch of the raging fire.

[[The Elisett have the ability to use magic and spells, but when in dire straits they can evoke the power of one of their gods/goddesses (that's nobles to you non-believers), each of which have a special prowess in a certain element. Origin is the goddess of power (to be announced in special plot twist later and wind), and her husband is the god of power (i.e. darkness, shadows, levitation, fire). In general, they rock at everything. The god and goddess evoked in this were Kriteh and Naleil, the god of water and his wife the goddess of earth. Their child is Nalteh god of growing things.
When gods and goddesses are evoked, their powers are temporarily given to the callers (this requires a mind link) with as much force as the bodies can handle. After the spell is broken, the caller will be an inch away from death, closer depending on how long they keep it up.]]

((OOC: Star, I didn't say I was standing next to the carriage, only that I waved from a distance. I'm surprised that Leyla can even see the color of his eyes as he doesn't even know she's there.))



Kath was startled at the woman's immediate negative reaction. Apparently she was a stubborn wench. Oh well, not everyone could be a nice person. Sure, there was a battle going on, but even Kath would have welcomed help. The Yeidin were living up to the reputation that had long since been established in the Captain's mind when he was young. They killed his family. There was no love nor kindness in their hearts or anywhere in their beings for anyone. Ever.

"So be it. You are on your own."

Fire seemed to roll over the place now. The fray was loud, the smoke was thick. Even the steam from where water and fire mixed. Even Kath had to cough, but he was not afraid of the fire nor of the water completely. Fire could be bent, water could be survived as long as the pressure was not too great. It was obvious the strange wench was guarding her ice covered and surrounded carriage. Whatever was in there was of some great value at least to her. And it also seemed that she wanted to keep whatever it was a secret or she would not... perhaps... turn down "help" so readily.

He let the woman get herself wrapped up in her own fight with others of the Sudao has he slowly made his way around and behind her. By this time, he already had his sword unsheathed and in hand just in case someone actually tried to fight him. Most of the time, he just weaved around those locked in battle. Those of the Sudao knew him, those of the Yeidin saw their colors. He batted aside a few swords of the Sudao that challenged him, but they disengaged to lock swords with the Yeidin after realizing his identity.

He pushed the stray flames away and around him. Those flames were a part of him, the deep part of him that was the funeral pyre of his family. It had burned within him for many years and now was his power. Now he just redirected a little of that flame towards the carriage, so slowly that even the ice didn't realize it was being melted at first...



Cordeau was shouting orders above the din of battle. He flung massive boulders with every breath, causing the Yeidin to either retreat from him or be squashed like the bugs they were with their self-righteous, conceited natures so obvious on their faces even as they shouted curses at him. Felix and Seven guarded his perimeters because even his earth-lobbing range had limits. The Sudao would not be put down so quickly.

Grevor was quite seething after Penthar dismissed him so easily. The fool General only wanted to prove whatever strength he had against an adversary of great power. So be it, he thought to himself as he locked himself into a one on one fight with a Yeidin, his two daggers playing against the long sword of the one against him. Penthar was on his own and the dark skinned man could think of nothing better than the general to get whatever was coming to him. In fact, it would be fun to help teach the general a lesson in accepting aid... by helping that Baran creature instead. But he would not be rash when so many witnesses abounded on either side of the playing field. How dare that fool tell him what to do!

Henrick sat in a tree as far up as he could be and still see (and aim) at the combatants. He lifted a tube to his lips and blew. The poisoned dart struck a man fighting with Cordeau and being quite unsuccessful, he could add. The man swatted at it as if it were but a gnat... in winter. Ah, it would still be a while before the poison would take effect and kill him, but the fun was to see how long it took him to get there with his muscles pumping oh so much blood around his system. Or... perhaps Cordeau and his associates would pick him off first. Time to watch. He had no idea where Penny had gotten himself off to, even with the limp from the last battle.

Veldrin waded through what looked like a shallow lake of bodies, snow, and mud. The strife had carved its own path for the lieutenant to march through, and the cambion strode quietly with that dark, twisted resolve evident upon his rotten face. He paid only slight attention to the magical spells being cast around him; being a half-demon himself, he felt natural affinity for the arcane arts, as if the energies were but the wind on his cheek.

As the forces of fire and of water combined in furious combat, Veldrin felt the steam of it all finally take to the air. A hot cloud of the stuff swathed past his face, driven by windy magics conjured up by some distant caster, and Veldrin could feel it’s stickiness settle upon his flesh; he could smell the distant taint of that disease he had been born with. That contaminated corpse was doing its job with that puddle, Veldrin was pleased to realize. The water gathered the sickness, and the wind and fire carried it, making it airborne. Hopefully, the Sudao that were on his side would notice the taint and be annoyed by it, but their bodies could bypass most of the worse effects; a defense brought about by years of spending close proximity with the cambion. Veldrin had no idea what effects it could have on his enemies—he hoped they were unpleasant.

At this time, Veldrin was in close proximity with Kath. His sword still drawn, the cambion swung it at a nearby enemy soldier, felling the stranger in an instant. His bloodshot eyes glanced at Kath through the licking flames, watching how the captain was focusing on the inferno and directing it as if on a magical whim. At this time, Veldrin eyed that mysterious carriage once more, intrigued at how the ice witch seemed so focused on its safety. Whatever was in there, Veldrin would be sure to find out.

[[Leyla's at a vantage point, and blue eyes are easy to see. I can see them from a block away at night if there's a fire or lamp etc. Daytime -it depends, the shadows are trickier-, they sorta glow, at least the bright ones.]]

Starlyght screamed as the water connected to her through magic became poisoned. Without thought, without even considering the consequences, her power lashed out and froze all the water in contact with her to solid ice. Though that closest to the fiery pillar would soon melt again, few diseases could stand being frozen solid. The ice that prevaded through the battle would likely cause trouble for both sides, but Starlyght thought nothing of that, only of the pain, and only of Leyla! At some point she realized she had stopped screaming and that the pain was gone, but the air was so dry, since anywhere with much humidity had turned to ice crystals at the radiating explosion of power that the pain had ripped from her. The princess's royal blood added more than social class to her person. It added a deep, old connection to the element, that even she could not fully understand yet, but it was definitely useful.

Something else nagged at the back of Starlyght's mind, however. The General was nowhere to be seen, but that was not it, though she did worry for his safety, he had charged her with another task. The ice, on the other side of the carriage, that was it. It didn't feel right. That other soldier, the one that had spoken to her in the middle of a bloody battle! Where was he, probably fighting, but something still didn't feel right. Silver was soon barking incessantly at the smell of burning wood. The fire! The fire had made its way to the carriage, despite Star's best efforts. What was she going to do, she had to get Leyla out of this mess, but the shadows were no safer than the open field, not with their enemy. Where was the General with his wings when she needed him! And where was Origin, this would be a lovely time for that young woman to show up.... Without another choice, Starlyght pulled the purified snow from the ground and surrounded herself in an armor of ice on top of her skysteel. With carefully controlled magic, Starlyght allowed herself to leap onto the wheel, and then the top of the carriage, easily spotting the fire and directing a spout of water to leave nothing but steam. The ice in her veins paled her skin, thickening it, and answering the question of why she had little need for armor. They wanted to fight, come and get her.

((just a side note, Origin's carriage is probably free now after all the melting, so she can probably get out if she wants to come to the rescue :-) ))

((Sooorryy for the wait :p I have too many characters! Haha… I went overboard with this, so I’ll be putting the names of your characters that mine will be interacting with, so at least u don’t have to worry about reading the whole thing and can just scroll down for your name and part.))

((Nemes > Kath, starlyght & Kovak))

The final word of the rite was said as Nemes glided in mid air, not hearing, seeing nor feeling, some forty feet above the carriages cloaked in the darkness of night… a second later and he closed his eyes, thankful that the Auralis responded in his favor. Some distance between Nemes and the sky, a circular, glittering pattern of silver light flickered to life; a gateway leading into a world that shone with light so bright one could not look directly into it. The circle widened into a growing gap, it grew wider until the brightness seemed to turn night into day…now it was only a matter of minutes until the Aliati would come to his aid.

Wings folding, Nemes dropped to the carriage, heavy boots slamming hard against the roof, his task complete, he now could observe the unfolding battle. There was much to take in, and the first concern were the carriages. From his height he noticed the battle between fire and ice, and raced towards it to access the Ice’s hold, hopping from roof to roof. Arriving at the carriage with the least ice left, he looked over the edge to find a soldier of their own, an elemental, obvious by how he touched the flames… but the man did not seem capable of controlling it. “Soldier! The source if not at this point!” Nemes roared, trying his best to get the soldier’s attention. The man finally looked up, his blue eyes startled at the sight of the General. Nemes pointed towards where the flames grew in the distance, a center point where the elemental magic flickered on the ground. Still releasing further flames. “You’ll have better control there to put it out, hurry!”

Nemes would not have guessed that the soldier was Kath. A second figure came running towards them; Starlyght. “Can you hold the ice, Star…?” he then noticed the disturbance in her aura… something odd, was she hurt? “Are… are you alright?” he yelled, concerned golden eyes roaming over her looking for wounds. Star turned a brave, determined face towards him, and nodded, full of confidence, and Nemes breathed with relief. He would not leave the carriages, and so will keep an eye on her. He turned away towards the battle around the, not noticng as Star too was now atop the carriage.

He stood up, eyes scanning the borders of their camp with hawk-like accuracy. His men were fighting hard, doing their best, yet also falling fast, the enemy they were up against caught them by surprise and left no time for powerful action… He would need to strike down the leader of the attackers. Nemes’s attention darted between one rider to the other, including those who have lost their horses and were now on foot. Finally, it was one that caught his full attention – an elemental, the one responsible for the fires, and judging the way he carried himself and the awareness of his comrades towards him, he must be the leader.

Nemes lifted his hands, and as he did they glowed to life with golden light, the light itself spreading like growing vines to form an arch much like a bow. With the motion of his hands, performing a silent rite, a fiery arrow materialized. He readied his ethereal weapon and aimed at his target, looking much like a sculpted, shining statue as he stood high on the roof of the carriages in a perfect, calm stance, taking no note of the few, stray arrows zipping ever so close to his head. A moment of concentration, and the arrow was released. It streaked through the crowd, passing clear through several soldiers like a ghost without inflicting injury, for they were not its target. Nemes held his breath as a blast of magical light from a Lumerian soldier nearby disrupted the arrow’s path… but it sill did not miss. The arrow head morphed into a howling seraphim seconds before impacting into Kovak’s chest, stretching her arms out to grab at the man’s soul, crippling him with unbearable pain as the man would now find it near impossible to breath, the spirit tearing at his memories and soul. Nemes cursed… the blast sent the arrow off course; the blow now would not kill him. He readied another arrow…

((Odei > Penthar))

“Unfair, not letting them play, Surdan. I was looking forward to some extra fun…” Odei mocked Penthar for his fury at the other Sudao soldiers for having tried to help him. Odei felt the sweat on his skin as he fought on against the Surdan general in a difficult battle; the man was a challenge, it had been a long time since he had fought against someone who possessed the advantages of both physical and magical strengths, Odei felt the thrill of the fight. Penthar was skilled, older, larger and stronger, his blows heavy… so he resolved to a combination of tactics, all the while holding back his magic, choosing to save his energy for when he really needed it.

Odei answered to Penthar’s attacks with identical techniques of swordplay, but would suddenly revert to Sagan moves, alternating back to fro between the usual skills and that of his sagan tribe, their moves quite different from those used by soldiers and knights of the battlefield; the tribe’s movements were tricky, feline and fast, relying more on physical agility and strength rather than on their weapons. Penthar would strike with both his swords, Odei toyed with him, leaping back, skidding to a stop then charging once more head-on, using the elements around him such as ice, trunks or rock to either slide, lean on or pounce off in an attack, all the while trying to knock the swords from penthar’s hands, jabbing the man, punching and sometimes, if he was fast enough, kicking the other hard against his back or side… Odei attempted to stab the man with his spelled claymore, the Roshaan manar marks on it lethal to a Surdan if driven into the heart, but the other was skilled with his twin blades and managed to block it every time. Odei would have to get rid of at least one of Penthar’s swords.

Penthar swung his sword again, and this time Odei skidded to a stop and instead of blocking Penthar’s aim with the claymore, he used his unarmored, gloved arm. The blade dug deep into the marked, black flesh, and Odei would feel the pain of it shoot up his arm and down his spine, but this was something he had done countless times, and was ready for it. He shoved his arm forward, the blade sliding across the wound until it’s hilt slammed against him, twisting his arm about with the sword still embedded into it his fingers, now black and elongated claws clamped down on Penthar’s wrist in an iron grip. Another twist, and the blade was tossed across their tight fighting arena, and was lost between the trees… yet still Odei did not release the latter’s arm, the pain in his own already fading as the Surda within him was now fully awake and took control. The blood dripping from the sword’s cut turned black, from it smoky tendrils rippled and spilled out, looping about his arm and that of the General’s, working it’s way through Penthar’s armor, turning it into a decaying heap that flaked down to the icy ground before assaulting his skin.

The two warriors would now fight at the closest proximity possible, linked by their arms… a tactic used by the Sagan tribe, except in this case it was the tendrils of black magic that held them together rather than chains. Odei’s face changed, skin going darker as the markings expanded until it almost blended in the with the blackness of his eyes, the silver dots stark against his new demonic colors, the skin about his jaw and lips were lined as his teeth morphed to fangs… With a raspy hiss, Odei flung his free arm back in an attempt to stab it into Penthar’s chest, now momentarily immersed with freeing his hand to notice Odei’s strike… but the mix of both his own blood and ice stained his hand, sending the heavy sword sliding from his grip and catapulting far up into a tree…

Crap. Odei felt something within hurt a lot more than the gash on his arm… pride.
((Ok, so he’s not perfect ;p ))


((Hurst > Veldrin. (lol poor Hurst… please be gentle, Vel ! ))

It was upon his Officer’s orders that Hurst turned his back to the battle circulating the camp and to head towards the carriages to aid those protecting them. Hurst frowned heavily as he pushed through his comrades heading in opposite direction, hand on the hilt of his sword, feeling that Sachieal perhaps doubted his potential to fight… or maybe not? Hurst looked up, the carriages only a short distance ahead. They were engulfed in ice, bombarded by fire, followed by a wall of water, their general shooting glowing arrows atop one of ‘em people burning, drowning, chaos… it looked much like the end of all their days when the gods finally decided to throw in the towel. There were even carcasses walking around…

Hurst skidded to a stop at the shocking sight of the living ‘carcass’… where there necromancers about? At a closer look Hurst then realized it was not a carcass, but a living person… a leper perhaps? He watched for a second as the Sudao soldier waded through his comrades, sending all those protecting the carriages that attempted to stop him on their way off to meet their makers. The man was getting closer to his target, and Hurst spend on, passing the man wrapped in strips of bloody cloth, then skidding to a stop to stand in his way, holding a hand up, glaring at the creature. “Hold on, mate!” Hurst yelled, hand gripping the hilt of his sword even tighter, his other pointing in the direction opposite the carriages. “… the dermatologist is that way!”

((Soraya – and making this quick ‘cause ‘ve had enough.))

Soraya now stood at the endge of the woods, behind her a ‘private’ battle raged on between Penthar and the Surdan, and before her the camp exploded into battle against… Sudao? But who? Soraya itched to return to penthar, to make sure the man did not attempt to kill that Baran… Soraya, Hivaro and the rest of the men waited for an attack, and it came, Yeidin soldiers following the horrific sounds of the battle between Penthar and that Umbri, comeing through the woods. But they were only a handful, and Soraya moved towards the camp, bewildered as to why non more came to seek them out.

It was when she reached the camp did she feel Odei’s presence as he and penthar clashed, but now her attention was drawn on the new comers, who were these Umbrovian warriors? Who lead them, under which regiment did they serve? Hivaro at her side, they moved around the battle and the camp, studying the situation, Soraya moved carefully along the shadow of the trees, noticing that she was unable to use them as portals! They were blocked…

((Okay, so Hurst is a shared PC, so I’m going to RP him a little too. This is okay, right?))

Once again, Veldrin was cut off by the chaos of battle, this time faced with another enemy adversary. The man was bold, Veldrin could give him that, but that little quip about the dermatologist was hardly even laughable. The cambion had suffered far worse. But instead of leaving the stranger hanging, the half-demon let out a quiet, short little chuckle. His bloodshot eyes were no different though—they still held that deep seeded malice for these creatures, these allied whelps of some benevolent cause.

The cambion gripped his scimitar at his side, with the blade pointed casually towards the ground. His hand still bled, still dripped the foul-smelling blood of his own veins down the hilt and all along the steel blade. The stuff seemed to hiss and moan against living ground as it dripped off. Veldrin straightened, and tilted his head at the other man. Kath was still in his line of sight, but nothing else. Other people that could potentially ambush him seemed to be busy elsewhere.

Veldrin sighed visibly and eyed the stranger. His voice was still that soft, almost eerily pleasant lull as usual, greatly contrasting against his horrid appearance. ”Stand aside, warrior. I have little time for…jokes; if that’s what you intend to share.” This time, Veldrin slowly lifted his scimitar into a more ready stance, in case fighting was indeed what this stranger intended.

It seemed he had. The stranger’s almost nonchalant demeanor carried over as he raised his own sword to meet the coming skirmish. Veldrin hoped this wouldn’t be one-sided like much of the other fights he had been in. There wasn’t really anything too honorable in felling soldier after soldier with little to no challenge. Their blades clashed, and Veldrin immediately spun around to wind up at the stranger’s left flank. In another fluid motion, the cambion lifted his scimitar to send it clashing with the enemy’s shoulder. But the stranger was quick, and blocked it with his blade at the last moment. An odd posture, but Veldrin was pleased to see the stranger pull it off.

He wasn’t pleased, however, when his opponent used his free hand to punch Veldrin right in his hidden, bandaged mouth. Veldrin merely blinked his eyes a little and shook his head. The jolt removed the wrap around his lower face and caused it to dangle. The cambion’s full visage could be seen. His nose was a rotted, crooked lump against his skull with one nostril pressing inward like that of a reptile’s. His mouth was an everlasting sneer, with half of his upper lip curved into the cleft, revealing yellowed teeth and dried, bleeding gums. A blood red sore extended from his mouth down across his chin, and receded.

The cambion’s eyes narrowed, watching how his opponent focused only seconds upon the new, awful sight. The Sudao lieutenant used this opening as an opportunity, and brought his booted foot up to kick the man in the side, sending him tumbling. Veldrin then swung his arm and created a deadly windmill with his bloody scimitar. The weapon spun in the air just once, but it was enough to graze the stranger’s arm as he stumbled away and create a straight cut in his upper arm, mingling their blood.

((Hope this was alright!))

With relief, the General was soon atop the carriage, and Starlyght was able to stop scanning the skies. This was also a good thing because the brightness eminating from the sky directly above them was almost overwhelming, especially to a neutral soul, such as herself. It must be torture to the shadow-lovers, but so be it. Starlyght did not understand the benefits of the large hole in the sky besides its brightness, but she would leave that to the General to determine, since he had seemed to conjure it. His question over her well-being seemed out of place, but she responded assuringly. She would explain later about her connection to the magic she conjured if he asked. For now, she was busy. The poor souls who did try to shoot arrows at the seemingly easy targets atop the carriage found that their arrows did little against the regenerating ice that covered Star's body, and any that attempted to approach the carriage found themselves either pierced by a shard of ice or driven back by a spout of water which would not remove itself from their breathing passages. Drowning without being wet must be a terrifying experience, Starlyght thought to herself.

With a thought, Star bent and knocked on the top of the carriage to Leyla, calling down to the opening for the girl not to worry and to stay with Silver. If Leyla sensed anyone coming, she was to tell Starlyght immediately. The nice General was atop the carriage with her and he and Star would protect Leyla until all the bad men were gone. Starlyght just hoped to herself that that would be sooner rather than later.

((oh and vel, I just wanted to commend you on being really really icky and creepy :-) I have to skip over the details in your post because I'm eating lunch xD ))

[[Don't worry Veldrin, your ickiness doesn't phase me. I read the whoooole thing :B]]

Origin clawed and scratched at the door, feeling it give way little by little. Whatever was melting it was giving way. She gave a final shove and broke free, out into the middle of a battle field.

Something in armor came chargin for her, but she was unarmed except for her cane. A minor detail. She shoved the piece of wood up into the man's face, crushing it with force.

She hobbled up, and made her way towards the new carriage Leyla had huddled into , following the small light in her mind. Bodies came for her, and she whipped them with her cane, blindly, not stopping ot see if they were dead or simply felled, she had to get back to the girl.

After an eternity she reached the carriage. She rapped on the door, frantically hoping the child was ok.

"Leyla! Leyla Are you Alright?" she called through the carriage. It was locked, and as a dark magician she couldn't get past those spells, not in her state, "Leyla!"

--
The little girl shot up from her hiding place. It sounded like Origin. She'd been so worried! She crawled out of her space and opened the door, to be tackled by the larger woman.

"I was so worried about you Little One, did you not hear me calling?" Origin whispered as she smashed the door closed.

The little girl could only sob, the stress of a battle and the loneliness of the carriage came down upon her little shoulders all at once.

Origin held and stroked the girl's soft brown hand in one arm, while she readied her dagger and bow with the other. Nothing would be getting through this door is she had any say in the matter.

Czernian had half-turned to shout an order to his men, letting those flames which were embattled die easily. Why waste effort to maintain them when he could simply start fresh ones elsewhere?

"Widen formation!! Move ou-" Mid-sentance, a blinding light overwhelmed him, and he was knocked to the ground, thrown several feet from where he had stood. There was no air in his lungs with which to scream - his back arched painfully and he writhed in violent agony. Kovak's eyes were forced wide with the pain, and the blood rushed to his face.

Through some force of will or luck, he did manage a breath, raspy and shallow. And with it, a scream. As he spasmed, a roaring fire rolled over his body, with all the force of an explosion, and held there for a moment as he screamed, not unlike a funeral pyre. The officer was down, unable to command his men, unable to do anything conscious, in fact. It was lucky for his force that military ranks were devised for a reason - there was always someone in charge.

The intensity of his pain was embodied in the sound of his screaming - abrasive as sandpaper against the skin, salt in a wound. The flames around him billowed like ship sails in a full wind, eating up the ground around him with an unearthly appetite, spreading wildly in all directions. In just moments, it was thick and high enough to have obscured his body completely.

In time, even the screams and the roar of the fire started to become one.

(( Czernian's down for the count, notwithstanding magical aid or a good minimum 24 hour healing time, if not more. Any posts from here on out will be regarding NPC action or remaining subconscious control over his element ))

Kath startled as Nemes started commanding him. He could only nod dumbly as the man directed his attention elsewhere... thankfully. Careful control there. He didn't even notice that I was the one... Thank Kiogara, Mistress of Conflagration! That one could probably hurt me significantly if I wasn't prepared for it... He moved off aways, but stayed in proximity to the carriage which suddenly had so many protectors.

Star was the name of the wench, mistress of ice and water. No wonder she was so frigid in personality. No warmth of spirit or heart. He despised her easily now that he had seen her. Her chaotic control of the elements had no art in the handling. It was all about gross abuse of the elements' fury. They did not nurture the elements. Instead they forced their wills upon them! These Yeidin even abused the very earth that they walked upon. The water and ice that the wench had made was the color of the blood of the fallen and vomit... Kath looked around quickly, noting Veldrin nearby, sometimes watching him out of those scabrous, bloodshot eyes.

The big man and the wench were talking when another woman began shouting 'Leyla' and grabbed a girl from the very ice protected carriage. The Captain, still unnoticed by most everyone (which was a blessing), stopped for a moment, perplexed and vaguely guilty about trying to burn down a carriage with a little girl in it out of spite for a horribly rude wench who was like ice herself. But why would a child be on the battlefield? Surely the wench is not her mother nor the other woman who now holds her... She's special isn't she...? There's something not quite normal about her.

Kath decided that he should move now otherwise he would become too conspicuous. He called to the flames that sputtered everywhere on the field and wrapped them around behind himself as he moved onwards quickly. He kept moving towards where he had last seen his men. Soraya might have an idea about the child and her protectors. Or else, General Penthar always had ways of obtaining that information the hard way from whatever prisoners he saw fit to take.



Cordeau was sweating badly. It clogged his vision before he was able to blink it away completely. His earthen barrier still spun albeit slower and more erratically even as his two defenders kept moving about him, clashing with the enemy and retreating quickly, so skilled were their blades. Kath's second-in-command had no fear that those two would ever fail him.

Penny lopped off a head as he moved sluggishly, stumping through the trees like some Bigfoot monster; his copper hair and beard were decorated in leaves and branches and his eyes were little more than dark gleaming specks under his large bushy eyebrows. Even as slow as he was, he made little noise and caught a few enemies by surprise. It would take more than lesser magicians to get a hit in on him, especially with his own reinforcements trailing around him in the trees that hid him from view.

Histlan's head rose and she turned her direction towards the great pillars of fire, water and ice. The amount of magic, of darkness and light, noblest and cruelest of intentions all wound around her everywhere. It was dizzying, and she did all in her power to keep her head straight. The darkness of her own being was rising slowly from her drifting out and rising as though unseen smoke, it did not disspiate away like that of smoke though, rather stayed around her knowing its place, only for now its prison had been slightly expanded. With a slight grimace she pulled her hood quickly back over her head, the sharp bright light that suddenly eminated from, it seemed the very sky, bothered her eyes even through the fabric tied overtop them.

Histlan's attention was brought back to her immediate surroundings as the whistle of arrows came again. She waited for a short moment doing the math in her head, waiting till she could be sure before she dived out of the way from their destination. Rolling quickly across the ground, she pushed herself back up from the ground into a sprint, losing little momentum. Her hips shifted loosely as she ran over what she assumed was a body, and took the shift of the 'terrain' with a surprising ability. The roar of everything seemed to die a little more on one side and she concluded she must be closer to an edge of the camp. Her sense for nearby magic sounded off in her head though as she felt the origins of the ground freezing. The feeling of foreign panic whispered in her head from the Yeidin who's feet were stuck in it while a two horsemen's arrows were aimed for him on the ride by.

Protect those who cannot protect themselves... Her feet took her there without a second thought and she stood with raised chin in front him. Her hands ready themselves and she concentrated on the distance of the hooves then the sound of the string's snap, despite the exasperations from the man behid her. Arrows were not her strength in defense, but what was she to do... except overcompensate for the potential timing. Her halbert's staff swung swiftly through her hands, twirling so that it was no more than a blur of motion. To her relief deflecting the arrows shot. Then her ji's blad swung down and broke at the ice around the man's feet as quick as she could.

He thanked her and pulled heavily on his feet which were freed quickly, and Histlan put all her concentration back to the field of chaos around them. Hooves rang out again, and the man she'd let loose of the ice, repaid her by taking out one of the horse's legs, the man atop crashing down to the earth, snow and mud.

((Penthar))

The General cursed himself for letting Odei get the upper hand as he quickly brought his remaining sword up to deflect the blow that was heading for his chest, knowing he would receive a nasty shoulder wound in the process. The other had played the move quite well, using his power to lock them together in close proximity, leaving them only one free hand to battle the other. But when Penthar saw Odei’s Claymore leave his hand, he grinned devilishly. The General quickly invoked his own magic as he spat blood from his mouth onto his arm where the dark magic had dug in. Tendrils from his own arm wrapped along Odei’s, locking them together. There was no escape from either side now until one of them would either surrender or die.
Penthar head-butted Odei as he sheathed his sword. His free arm twisted into a serpent-like extension, dark and pointed at the end. His own mouth now elongated, resembling an adder’s jaw as fangs protruded. Hissing, he began his assault.
“*Sai Si Val” was what the warlock growled in a voice unnatural as he moved with blinding speed, impacting Odei on the arms, torso, and legs , firing off every pain receptor in his body with accuracy and efficiency. He was going to push the other past his pain threshold in an attempt to defeat him, and delight in watching him suffer.

* “To the pain”, an ancient technique of using one’s negative energy points to weaken them.

(Don’t worry about it, Pen, that’s a challenging enough post, thank you very much! And cheers to Veldrin. LOVED that gruesome piece. sorry guys but I have to make this quick and uninteresting, just so as not to keep anyone stuck but have no time in the last 2 days…and keep the RPG board CLEAN and delete the OCC comments soon, please!))

((Odei > Penthar))

Odei’s eyes widened at both his own stupidity – though it could happen to the best of warriors, he kidded himself in an attempt to feel better… and thought of his Sagan master who trained him, no doubt now rolling in his grave – and at the words uttered by Penthar. He had heard the spell before, but had never been confronted by it before this day, nor was quite sure how to fight it... The Surda worked in its hosts’ body to numb pains and quicken the healing of injuries… but what of ‘magical’ pain not born of torn flesh and broken bones?

A burst of Penthar’s black tentacles and Odei was smashed to the slushy ground on his back, Penthar above him pinning down his limbs… Odei attempted to struggle, still unwilling to use his own powers…then the pain began. It started with a dull throb, then grew slowly, yet Odei could feel it, and understood that the Surda within him was doing nothing to prevent it… damn those warlocks of the Guild of Shadows, there was so much they knew that they did not pass on to him…

The thought of the dark guild reawakened further memories Odei had not touched for some time; strands of golden hair… a soft smile, and before he knew it he was hearing her voice again… and then he knew what to do. Odei snapped out of his thoughts, the pain now a burning sensation, like poison in his veins. He gritted his teeth, needing to scream but instead channeled it into an angry growl followed by a roar; he knew what spell would bring on just as much pain… and would use it. Even if it meant scorching off his own fingers.

Edging his wings out from beneath him, the long, powerful bat-like limbs wrapped around Penthar, forcing his face down closer to Odei’s reach, his own whips of black magic straining to keep penthar’s weapon away. Odei concentrated, readying himself for what was to come, for he was already in pain and new more of it was coming his way. He recited the Lumerian spell, his unmarked arm glowing to life with the burning magic of the Roshan Manaar. Penthar’s tendrils of Umbrovian blackness crackled and splintered off, leaving the glowing arm free as Odei thrust out, palm of his hand finding the man’s elongated face and clamped down on it, the Lumerian magic glowing and hot now like a furnace.

Penthar’s face was burning. Odei’s hand was burning. Everything burned as the Lumerian magic worked its way through Odei’s being and into Penthar’s in an exchange of ‘poison’. Eye for an eye… Odei thought grimly.

Odei’s chest rose and fell rapidly with labored, raspy breaths, the pain now unbearable, but still he would not give in… he would rather die and pass into the afterlife, carrying the general’s overcooked face as a souvenir of this world.

((Soraya > Kovak & Kath))

After the gruesome battle between Penthar, his wolf and that hideous ‘horse’, Soraya expected the Yeidin army to follow the roars and screeches of the umbri and pour down on them in mass… but only a handful of the Yeidin came through the woods and confronted her and the rest of them… and no more. Perplexed as to what kept them waiting, Soraya sped off towards the camp, reluctantly of course for she wished to the outcome between the General and Obsidian, not yet knowing that the battle of the Umbri had already ended nor of the current struggle between penthar and her ‘target’.

She reached the borders of camp, and as she did so she noticed that the shadows had been closed to them, Soraya and her men would not be able to use the darkness to escape or call unto more Umbri. They were on their own. The young leader was shocked by what she found; Sudao soldiers, and by the colors and markings she understood they were some of the toughest kind… but who where they? What regiment did they serve… which region? Soraya’s eyes caught the flashes of Lumerian magic, including the arrow that went through an officer. The man fell to the ground… and appeared to have burst into flame…

With a gasp at the sight of the fallen man, Soraya turned and beckoned her men to follow her. She sped through the battle, dodging weapons, whizzing arrows and hacking down anyone who tempted to stop her until she finally reached the fallen officer. She crouched as near as she could to his flaming body, and chanted to the darkness. The shadows rose from all around them and enclosed around Kovak, drowning the flames in darkness, cutting off it’s air until it finally died down. Soraya then only understood that the man was in fact an elemental, the fire belonging to him, for his skin was not burnt.

She worked quickly, knowing that Hivaro and the rest of her men shielded her from harm. She ripped off the semi-conscious man’s breast plate then tore the fabric beneath, finding a white glowing mark, shaped much like a four-sided star where the arrow had hit. occasionally needing to smack away his arms and legs as the man squirmed in antagonizing pain, unable to breath. Yanking off a glove, Soraya’s bare hand pressed against the mark, a surge of black magic bolting into the man’s chest until finally killing off the Lumerian spell. He would live.

The man was barely conscious, Soraya lifting his face up by the scruff of his neck and slapped him hard against the face, trying to awaken him further... she could not guarantee that the seraphim within was completely dead, and if he slept the chances of it taking over his body and killing him were high. “Help me!” Soraya called to the men protecting her, instructing them to carry Kovak to safety where she would be able to heal him further.

As soraya stood, she noticed for the first time the circle of light in the sky, and felt her blood drain from her face, and for a moment she too could not breath. “Hivaro…”
At the sound of her voice calling his name, the old man looked at Soraya, then followed her gaze. A moment of silence. “We must leave… retreat back into the woods as far as possible. NOW.” He said with ‘calm’ urgency, and trotted along Kath’s men as they carried Kovak off into the woods. Soraya’s eyes finally dropped, and caught sight of Kath. She smiled, relieved to see him in one piece, but now it was time to leave. She signaled him of their departure without calling his name, for he was still encircled by Lumerians and would not risk even the slightest possibility that they would then notice her beckoning to one of their ‘own’…

But where was Veldrin?

Back in the dark shelter of the woods, Soraya knelt down next to Kovak, placing her hands on his chest and shaking him vigorously. “It’s no use… Soraya. He’s not responding.” Hivaro said, his eyes on the bright ‘hole’ in the sky in the distance. Soraya did not give in. She had to wake him… “Wake up, who ever you are! You have to wake up and order your men to retreat! A door to the Aliati is open… they will be here any minute!” She yelled.


((Hurst > Veldrin))


Ok… getting the **** beaten out of me by a dead guy! Nice Hurst… very nice. Very impressive story to tell the ladies. Ha. It’ll be a decade before I get laid again thanks to this story! Hurst panicked; never in his life had he seen a living carcass… he had heard tales of necromancers and their living dead… and though meeting vampires on several accounts never did any of them look like they were… well… ‘dead’. He had no clue what Veldrin was… nor did he care; he had to get rid of it… or make a run for it… depends on what the thing would think about… gates...

Veldrin swung his scimitar again, this time his blow would surly do more than just a flesh wound. A faint flash of light, and as Sudao’s sword would shatter in half… the broken half completely gone. Hurst managed a crooked smile and the demon Sudao appeared utterly stunned, the other end of his weapon no where to be seen.

“It’s a gate… you see…” Hurst said, now standing carefully; ready to dodge any further attacks, his sword sheathed. He won’t be using it today, and what better time to practice his portal magic? It would not be a problem if he accidentally sends this creature back down to the hells… which is probably where the rest of his sword is right now. “I’m a gate keeper… and a lousy one at that, I just don’t get the geography right… unless if you want to find yourself… or parts of you that is… dispersed all over different points on the face of this earth… then I suggest you just turn around, and I won’t tell anyone about… about… well…” Hurst to his own face with a wave of his hand.

((Penthar))
His burning flesh bubbled and sizzled, carbonizing and peeling away from his face layer by layer. He fought to keep dominance as he fought.The General had an incredibly high pain threshold, but even the toughest could only take so much agony of literally being burned alive. Penthar was a survivor, and there was only one tactical move left to him in this battle as the Lumerian spell sought to consume them both in it's fiery light.
He moved quickly as the burning became more intense. His now free hand reached for the pouch at his belt, grabbing for the vial he had brought with him; his contingency plan. With them joined, and in such close proximity, it's contents would more than likely affect them both. It did not matter now, Penthar was not one to die for a cause--that was what underlings were for. He uncapped the vial, and poured it on where he thought Odei's brow would be, as his eyes were now burning with fire, his dark magic losing the battle of regenerating his wounds.
" Tor' endal, ghor'Ima, Toresh!" was what he hissed through his grotesquely cracked and bleeding lips as he poured the vial's strange yellow substance onto his foe.
The spell flowed through both men in an explosion of darkness. Odei was left on the ground, his form now returning to it's human likeness. His aura had diminished to nearly nothing as he lay there, the torment of Toresh* now over him as he breathed heavily, his arm burnt and smoldering from the Lumerian spell he had invoked.
Penthar had been flung several feet in the air and landed in a smoldering heap 20 paces form his adversary. A muffled groan was heard from him as his form returned to the now burnt hulk of a man. The spell had done just as he had anticipated. The General was also now devoid of any Surdan power. He slipped into unconsciousness, succumbing to shock from his wounds.......

*torment of Toresh is a spell used to temporarily strip a Surdan of his dark magic. It is little known, except for those who have gained it's secret, as it can be a dangerous weapon. It only lasts for about three days on the outside...

((tsk, tsk… my god these too. What a bloody mess.))

((Odei))

Odei’s arm shook violently with the strain of maintaining the spell of the Roshan Manaar specifically made to burn the darkness of a Surdan, and with it everything else that made up his/her entire being. It was only a matter of minutes after grabbing Penthar’s face did Odei’s world begin to reel and fade, taking with it his pain as he began to lose consciousness. Between the spell of Penthar and his own struggle with the Lumerian light, Odei did not see, hear nor feel Penthar’s last attempt to win over the battle… to him the world just simply stopped, and Odei’s hand and hold slid away from the Surdan.

------

It was the odious Roshan Manaar – the house of light – that had made him turn away from his fellow Surdans of the dark guild… well, just one member of the House, to be precise; little Aislin. Their story was like a bitter fairytale that went along the lines of a dark warlock of the dreaded Surdan falling for one of their greatest enemies’ beautiful daughters… and like most of the tales of Gladrenan, this one too ended in tragedy… but both were too young and oblivious of the extent of how much their worlds clashed to understand that it could not end in any other way but with separation, the two struggled on for years until finally the poor girl lost her life.

Yet before her death Aislin did her best to naively try and rid Odei of the dark magic, and taught him spells and ways of the Roshan, refusing to come to terms that he would never be free of the consuming darkness and that the Light would forever be his deadly counterpart. Until this day Odei still remembers every word, every spell, and stubbornly made use of it again and again without fear, loathing or regret, no matter what it did to him, for it was the last thing that remained with him that was apart of Aislin… or was it because he still refused the reality of what he was?

Whatever his reasons, his ‘loyalty’ to the Lumerian guild infuriated Cylan. The spirit scowled down at the two bloody, bruised bodies of her Surdan warriors. What a mess. Her scowl deepened as her eyes rested a long time on Odei. A Surdan, casting spells of the light. How dare he? Yet she knew it was his ridiculously stubborn, insubordinate nature that kept the fire alive within him all these decades. She looked over at Penthar’s body once more; she knew this man and his history well, having dwelled in the Auralis for so long. That was a man who lived for the darkness… what would be the outcome of her plight if Odei were more like the General? With a heavy sigh, Cylan knelt down, her ghostly hand merely stroking Odei’s forehead. “Rise, you fool. The Aliati come… it is not wise that you lie around lest should they think you are… one of the Dark.” she laughed bitterly at the sarcasm of her comment. She stood, and contemplated brining Penthar out of his own sleep… the man was still one of her own, after all… but then she decided against it. “Your friend isn’t dead…” She quirked an eyebrow as Odei began to stir, eyes opening half way. “… kill him. He is no halfwit such as yourself… he knows better, and will be back to skin your useless hide.”

-----------

With a groan, Odei sat up, the world around him spinning like mad. He finally made it to his feet, yet made no sense of his surroundings as he staggered in a circle searching for his claymore. Eventually the world stilled, and Odei found his sword and now stood over Penthar. Odei had no doubt about it; though he felt like hell, he knew he did not look as penthar did now… the site was a horror, but the bounding spell would soon die and the Surda within him would heal his wounds and restore him to his original state, with exception of a few scars perhaps. Odei sheathed his sword and turned away, willing the shadows of the woods to enclose the fallen man in a protective cocoon until his commander would come and take him; the demon Juneid releasing his hold on the shadows upon Odei’s request; the Sudao may now retreat through the blackness.

Wincing in pain, he knelt down to gather up his ‘Ubri’, Obsidian, and inwardly chuckled at Cylan’s frustration as once again he went against her wishes by leaving Penthar alive. A part of Odei did not wish to ‘win’ the battle by slaying the man in his sleep… while another part of seemed to want to prove a point to the Surdan… but what it was, Odei did not know.

Odei did not have the strength to continue on fighting, and so retreated into the shadows, leaving the rest of the battle up to his comrades. The regiment would not need him anyway; the Aliati had come through the gate in the sky, even at this distance Odei could see the winged, glowing golden bodies of Nemes’s ‘angels’.

Histlan continued her systematic moving through the battle, the blows she received she also returned, at many parts changing the odds in her favour by taking the enemey's feet out from under them, knowing how balance was sitauted in people and keeping attuned to their weapons as well as how their feet slid across the ground, as well as using one's own weight against them, when it came to the larger beings. Her movements swift enough to keep her out of more serious harm. The darkness that spun around her, that she was little conscious of, made her more agile, alerting her when something past through it space, and pushing her to use more force than she would of otherwise.

It was when the vast light in the sky became its strongest and beings came forth from it, did she turn her head towards it once more. The darkness around her retreat, clawing its way back into her once more making her skin sting, as it pushed its path back through her to settle deep down within her once more to hide away, though it still churned aggressively while it was slowly settling, upset at the large presence of light.

It and the painful sky's light too great of a distraction, and when she sensed an opponent approaching it was too little time to fully defend and she was struck in the side of her head. Next thing she knew she was airborne for a moment that felt longer than it was. She twisted her body, and brought her hand out, gloved finger stretching to find the ground. When they contacted and slid across it she tried to use it for leverage to push off of and flip back on to her feet. The pain and lack of up from down thwarted her efforts and though she slid across the tips of her finger for a moment as though she might succeed, but gravity caught up with her quickly and the rest of her body hit the ground hard and she slid along her side, stopping when a corpse was kind enough to act as a small wall.

Histlan's hand after a moment slid roughly across the ground, knowing after a moment why it moved. She subconciously was looking for her staff, but she'd lost the ji halbert somewhere in the midst of the fall. She breathed out heavily into the snow and dirt unsure for a moment if she could get up but she tried to push herself up.

Veldrin straightened once more, regarding his opponent calmly. He tossed the shattered blade to the side without even a moment’s regard to the damage, and the bright sheen that emitted from the sky was but a minor irritant to the cambion for the moment. His bloody eyes were far too damaged to even feel the burn of the searing luminosity, though perhaps the damage was happening. Instead, Veldrin watched the stranger, and something like a smile played on his deformed lips. ”More magic, I see. Your ilk seem to always use the stuff as a last resort; something of a comfort zone, right? Well…I hope you enjoy a little of my ‘magic’,” the cambion’s melodic voice was soft as he motioned on his own arm where he had slashed at his opponent’s skin.

”You’d best get yourself to a medic before you start vomiting or…well it could come from both ends from what I’ve seen, my friend.” The cambion turned, facing the innards of the battlefield once more. A sigh of intrigue and realization emitted from Veldrin’s lips as he realized what was now happening. ”You’re summoning more cronies. Can you people do anything yourselves? I’m honestly curious.” Veldrin glanced briefly back at his adversary with a bored expression before walking back into the snowy field with that slightly painful gait in his step. ”I hope we meet again, stranger. You’ve certainly put a smile on my…face.”

At that, the cambion seemed to laugh aloud, wading through the snow once more and leaving a trail of discolored filth behind him. He could see, at the far end, the row of trees where his own people were gathered. The half-demon’s eyes narrowed, recalling the previous battle where they had been placed in an almost identical predicament—the Yeidin panic, summon some otherworldly force, and drive the Sudao off. And they were going to do it again. Again. Veldrin looked slightly up towards the sky with renewed malice, this time seen plainly with his naked face chilled in the wintry breeze.

He'd emerged from the woods some time ago to find the battle; his first thoughts were to join in on the protection of the carriages, although after a quick surveillance saw there couldn't be much more protection he could offer than there already was. Having parted ways with Odei a while back, he had no idea where the captain was and instead pressed his heels sharply into the horse's sides, urging it onward into the fight.

The element of surprise was in his favor as he came up behind an opposing soldier, the man's ears deafened by the voices and sounds of the fight around them so he had not heard his approach until he was within a striking range. Quickly the enemy's face twisted into a raging expression and he raised his weapon as he twisted around, with the intent of bringing the sword down on the dark elf's head. The soldier's eyes widened when the weapon resisted, the magic taking advantage of his momentary confusion and pulled free from his grip, smacking him upside the face with the flat side of the blade with just enough force to knock him out of the saddle. Ivaylo smirked, the handle landing lightly in his hand. He was pleased to find the metal was infused with a dark spell, not more than he could control but just enough to prove useful. Couldn't join in on the fun without an appropriate weapon.

He blinked against the brightness as it intensified, shielding his face with one hand. Although he had not practiced dark magic himself it was still in his blood, and instinct was what caused him to wince away. By the time he'd gathered his senses about him he had looked up to see Histlan some distance away, blinded by the light, and felt a sinking feeling of dread as he saw what she didn't. An approaching opponent. One of the blows had sent her flying and she crumpled next to a body, though her will hadn't appeared to be crushed in the least as her hands searched fruitlessly for her weapon as it had parted from her company in the fall.

Ivaylo pressed the spurs on his heels hard against the horse and it broke into a run, driving forward at good speed although it was not quickly enough. His eyes flashed when the enemy rose his weapon to deal the second blow; the lifeless corpse next to Histlan moved suddenly, having no will of it's own it succumbed quickly to his spell and shielded her, bones snapping beneath the intensity with which it was hit. Respect for the dead be damned, it was the living that concerned him right now. Jumping down from his mount before it even came to a stop he reached out and grasped Histlan's upper arm in attempt to pull her weakened form away, parrying another well-aimed attack as he did so. The elf's eyes flashed again, briefly, brows furrowed in concentration; the opponent's weapon contorted, groaning under the strain of twisting inwards on itself into a useless heap of metal in his hands.

The brothers were beginning to feel the strain of the possession. They had to keepthe power moving. The moment it stopped. It was all over.

Olorafien shot a blast of Earth at an oncoming attacker, disabling him. When he dropped his hands a stream of sand fell from beneath his finger tips, his attempt to keep the link going. If they dropped down now, it would be death for sure.

If they kept going, the same was true.

Vasquiri gasped for air. His entire body felt as if it were drowning as he shot darts of water into the enemy line. Neither of them would make it much longer.

She stiffened and the pain stroked through her head and consequently down her spine, swirling through her body as though it was the conduit of transportation for the pain. The reason for her suddenly tensing up was the unexpected and unnatural movement of the body she'd assumed dead that had stopped her sliding. The surprise managed to make her push herself up on to her knees at least, it was something her body immediately regretted though and her head swam with uneasiness. She knew enough to sense the odd magic that surrounded the corpse, and who's it was, because she'd found Ivaylo's to always be rather unique.

The snapping bones made her wince and skin crawl and for a split second she thought it might have been her own until no further mortal pain followed. Her upper arm twitched back but really she had less resolve to oppose greatly and as she realised who it was, she followed the guidance willingly, hearing the clash of blades on the other side of him. She tried to regain her balance as best as she could, and couldn't be more appreciative of the man's reappearence. He seemed good at showing up when she needed someone, and as much as she hated the very fact of needing anyone, that did not affect her gratitude in the slightest right now.

As she tried to simply keep standing, the darkness on her hands burned heavily, it had not seemed to hide away like the rest but was ever more aggressive with the presence of the light. As she felt the magic bend the enemy's weapon into nothing of value and he dropped it with surprise, she quickly moved out from behind Ivaylo keeping to his side more not daring to get physically between the two of them. She read the opponent's intentions though and her hand shot out to grab his wrist as he grabbed for a dagger and her other hand shot up powerfully, palm upward and flat as the heel of her hand struck hard against the man's nose, breaking it and forcing the cartilage up through the nasal cavity into his head.

She released the man's wrist as he fell back and took a backward step from his body. She'd gotten the revenge her hands itched for, and as the burning in her palms seemed to settle down, the adrenaline alone was not enough to keep the entire onslaught of pain and dizziness at bay entirely. A small trail of blood slowly rolled down the side of her face and her the skin high on her cheek was already beginning to quickly discolour, it would be a rainbow of bruising later on but it was a smaller price to pay for being alive. Her feet stumbled to find wider apart placing on the ground in an attempt to keep herself upright and she turned to Ivaylo. "I owe you my life." The thankful tone easily placed in her tired voice.

The Sudao warriors, of course, had no trouble noticing the great light that displaced the sky - an even greater impairment this, as well as being unable to move through shadows. It was a crippling blow, for their ilk, and none of them too dull not to know it.

As the fire that burned around him was dispelled, Czernian himself seemed to lose a great deal of energy. His pained twitching subdued mostly into raspy breathing, his skin far too hot and covered with a sheen of fevered sweat. He was obviously unaware of his surroundings, though now, but for his breathing, he was eerily quiet.

Until being slapped in the face. His consciousness stirred, if the rest of him did not. By the second slap, he was awake enough to understand that being slapped hurt a good deal, and certainly wasn't something he liked. His brows drew together in a dark and troubled furrow, and an eye cracked open.

"....here...any minute..." he repeated with a scowl. The fingers of a hand twitched spasmodically in remnants of pain. "Retreat," the man murmured. Czernian remembered the situation he had left only vaguely... but well enough to understand. He could not see those who surrounded him, though he could feel their presence simply by the organic sounds of their nearness. "Men, they will retreat and regroup. Guerrila warfare." He took another shallow, labored breath, and continued pointedly. "Atack, retreat, attack again, until your enemy is nothing. Regroup at the dead tree, not the old camp."

During this time, regiment leaders exchanged brief words in passing, and from across the battle by means of the standards of their platoons. Those who had lost the fewest men took up the brunt of the fight, renewing their attack with vigor, mingling physical attack with that of elemental magics - pushing up hard stalagmites of stone through the ground to impale unsuspecting soldiers, only to lower them again and set the trap elsewhere - or freeze choking collars of ice around the throats of their enemies. All manner of small, debilitating magic to kill or disable the most amount of men quickly. And this was something they did very well.

As they did so, however, the remaining regiments ran their horses through the battlefield, plucking up comrades who had lost their horses or recieved injuries - and then simply retreating with them, back into the forest.

It was not long before this was an obvious occurrence, and even those who had been attacking turned the heads of their horses to follow their allies. It was such an ingrained maneuver that even horses whose riders had been killed galloped with the beasts they knew, leaving the field a wreckage of war, the melted snow trampled into mud that was left filthy with spilled carnage and disease, scorched and flooded and frozen by magics of every sort.

It was so close to the small coterie of the Lietenant General that the sound of the horses was a low, rolling thunder. Kovak clamped his eyes shut, and listened.

Kath came through the smokey curtain that had swept upon the Yeidin camp, reaching the outskirts of the dreaded establishment. His face was streaked with soot and sweat that he didn't even notice anymore. His sword and dagger were in his hands, his white-knuckled hands clenched around their hilts both out of anger and caution.

The stench of death swirled around in the breeze. Pools of dark liquid settled upon the grass like oil. Unseeing eyes stared up at the sky, the whites clearly visible even from a distance, a cruel mockery of a cloud watcher. As much as he hated death, it had become too much of a reality in his every day life thus far. He was eager for the day when this whole thing would be over, vengeance quenched, where he could find a good woman and settle down. Farm, maybe... Of course, he'd been a fighter for the majority of his short lifespan, but one could hope for something different, newer, cleaner. War and death was a dirty business that should have no place on the land.

A group of figures seemed to emerge from the smoke in front of him. At first his muscles tensed for either fight of flight depending upon how large a group it would be. He saw those eyes first, a glint of silver under a mop of dark hair. Her lovely lips curved slightly upwards and his arms dropped slowly from their ready position as it all seemed to appear slowly before him. A vision of beauty after one of grotesque elegance, a dark angel. Her hand beckoned to him. She would take him to heaven in a simple glance. He smiled back, his eyes weary but overjoyed. He kept his feet and fell into a graceful lope to join the rest of the ones that accompanied Soraya.



Cordeau had to keep one eye shut due to a cut across his forehead that was dripping blood. Felix was holding a roll of gauze between his teeth, tugging a bandage tight across his wrist. Knicked too many times, the two of them stayed near to the main group while Penny and Castor trailed behind to make sure their systematic retreat was covered, dark shadows following them.

Grevor lurked where he could, condemning Penthar to whatever fate might befall the over-confident general. Henrick stuck to the trees whenever possible, his darting equipment at the ready just to create pain and havoc. Seven, seeing the otherworldly vision coming across his newly arrived Captain, grabbed Kath by the shoulder and tugged him along until the Captain grinned sheepishly and followed without straggling.

As part of the enemy seemed to retreat, Starlyght only tensed her body more. They had no reason to retreat, well, besides the huge glowing cut in the sky. Did they know something about this aid of the General's that Starlyght's neutral past did not benefit her? No matter, she would stay on alert until morning light. She knew enough about clan fighting that retreating for another attack was common practice and she was not going to be caught off-guard. She used the moment, however, to re-gather the elemental magic she had released during the fray. Some of the ice that was unnaturally formed vaporized, and energy flowed back into the Nymph. Star could not help but grin to herself at the elation that such an act always caused. She had noticed Origin had returned at some point during the fighting, she did remember that, so she did leap onto the wheel of the carriage and then the ground to check on the woman.

Star knocked gently, "Origin, Leyla, it's Starlyght, are you alright in there? Is Silver with you?" Star couldn't help but worry about her little friend. He tried so hard that sometimes he got himself into situations that he needed help in. To her relief, however, the little fox yipped happily at the sound of his master's voice, and inside the carriage his twin tails wagged back and forth, tickling the little one's legs further.

The magic that seemed to radiate from her body - specifically her hands - lessened when the man fell dead, dimming down to a trace that was hardly noticeable to his senses. It had been something he hadn’t entirely noticed before. Having been surrounded in the camp and on the battlefield by dark spell casters, he didn’t try to pinpoint anyone who could be a source of the magic. They were too numerous, their auras massed together into an indistinguishable cloud to him when grouped together. But now, after actually grasping her arm and making the first real contact since they’d met, the darkness left a prickling feeling on his hand similar to a pins and needles sensation one would feel after their limb fell asleep. Not painful, but strange.

“Best not to be so quick to make such a promise, Histlan; you’ll surely have second thoughts when it may be the time to live up to it.”

All around them the opposing forces seemed to be retreating as he glanced about, although keeping the nervousness from his features it was still present in his thoughts - his eyes searched for a familiar form among the fallen scattered within sight, hoping not to see any of the faces he had grown so accustomed to, still and lifeless in death. The enemy soldiers seemed to have no interest in the two as they rode past, occupied with gathering their comrades and falling back from the carnage-strewn landscape.

He turned back to Histlan, eyeing the now bloodied and bruising wound on her features with a grim expression. “We’d better get you to a medic.” Ivaylo extended a hand, leaving the choice up to her to take it or not although she didn’t seem to be in any state to be standing let alone walking on her own.