[Log] Against the Scourge [1/2]
Who: Agrias Oaks, Christoph Schmidt, Cidolfas Orlandu, Gwen Meynolt, Meliadoul Tengille, Ovelia Atkascha, Simon Parker
Where: Fantasy Sector - Lesalia Imperial Capital
When: 19 September 2008
What: Upon finding the corrupted Vanguard Captain, the Agency operatives decide that now is the time to return her to her senses - and back to the land of the living.
Watch For: Christoph gets to dragon-wrangle. Many other things, including awesome from everybody involved.
Fantasy Sector - Lesalia Imperial Capital
Lesalia Imperial Capital lay at the heart of Ivalice, in the central province of Lesalia. It is among the largest cities of this medieval kingdom, as well as one of the most ancient. The city has closely-packed houses, made of timber and sloped roofs, that hug to winding narrow streets. At the center of the city is an immense castle - the palace of the Ivalician royal family. It also houses the Senate, and countless nobles.
Contents:
Agrias Oaks
Christoph Schmidt
Cidolfas Orlandu
Gwen Meynolt
Meliadoul Tengille
Ovelia Atkascha
Simon Parker
Obvious exits:
Northeast leads to Fantasy Sector - Nelveska Temple.
Dusk falls on the Kingdom of Ivalice, casting snow and ice against a red backdrop. The fields north of the ice-slicked ruins of House Oaks begin to thaw from their recent permafrost the further one goes from them, and as the elevation rises, so does the life seem to return. Shoots of wild wheat and half-dead trees seem a little more invigourated.
The farms of Grogh Heights are generally well-organised, and well-run - between storing for winter and affording a tithe to the nearby royal capital, they have to be in order to survive. That means there are massive amounts of labourers, mostly the poorest of the peasants that are doubtless tied to the land they work. Some of the knights returned from the Fifty Years' War have returned here, to work the land that they may have been raised in, having put aside their weapons of war. Others are slaves, brought from distant lands - survivors of the war from Romanda; Ordalian soldiers, their children.
In any case, it's a relatively high concentration of population.
And for the Death Knight in their midst, it's an irresistable lure.
A dark shape wings its way over the skies, a blot on the blood-coloured skies. The steady thump of leather wings issues from the figure, every so often. It has the unmistakable look of a dragon, but there's something fundamentally wrong about it - its wings are ragged, with barely any mass to them, and its very ribs seem to be splayed open, as though there were no tissue to its frame. A lurid blue light suffuses where its insides should be, and the light also fills its empty, near-skeletal sockets. Its clubbed tail swings behind it in time with its flight.
As it nears the farms, it roars; a horrible, screeching sound that lingers over the horizon and causes the workers below to look up in dawning horror. The unliving frost wyrm spews a gout of frozen breath, trailing and glittering where the sun catches the ice crystals.
Death comes on swift wings to Grogh Heights. No sooner is that practise shot done than the creature swoops, screeching again as it lets fly another gout of its frozen breath, this time seeking to spray it across the breadth of the farm's vast, tilled fields. A figure can be seen on the dragon's neck - a knight in black armour, with a great sword of light-swallowing black, and an unmistakable countenance.
It's Agrias Oaks.
The journey to Azeroth had been profitable in some ways and yet highly disappointing in others. The gold from gathering all the flowers had been very nice, but information on how to defeat the Lich King was fairly scant. All she, Ovelia, Zack and Aerith could dig up was just how awful and what kind of powers the Lich King and the Scourge had. So it is time to take things in their own hands.
Cid had stationed himself at the edges of the Oaks estate and so she rides out to join him, but she does not ride alone. Zack and Aerith decided to stay in Azeroth to continue to try and find information on the Lich King while the templar and Ovelia rode out to meet Cid. On the way, they stopped by an armor to pick up a very important item that Meliadoul had seen the last time she was in Ivalice. An Ice Shield. Considering Agrias has shown considerable aptitude with ice based attacks, best be prepared.
The blue shield is held at the forefront as she rides towards Grogh Heights where she last heard of Cid's location. She arrives just in time to see the devastation being laid out by the Frost Wrym. "So it begins." Save the Queen clears its sheath and she begins to ride forward, looking first for the THunder God.
The trek has been longer than would have been usual for the old knight. He has a non-combatant in tow, after all. A pair of chocobos break from the treeline, one the usual gold, the other one of the red variety, both bearing riders. Cidolfas draws up with a scowl, watching the frost wyrm perform it's next pass, eyes seeking out the dark-armored form on it's back.
There she is.
"Ser Oaks. Stay close, but be prepared to make for cover should the dragon take offense."
A squeeze of the old knight's legs urges his mount on towards the besieged farmlands. The Templar's party is spotted off to the side and Excalibur rings free of its sheath, flashing in the fading sun, catching the eye.
The Thundergod has entered the field.
Reis Duelar never went to Azeroth. Nor did she garrison herself anywhere... but she's pretty good at getting around in a hurry. Not perfect, but good.
Reis is riding Iskys, her black chocobo, who seems to be fine with being ridden in a hurry toward the farmlands - at least, she isn't shying away or objecting to carrying Reis. Reis herself has put on her ushanka and overcoat, just in case. She can't trust Agrias' desire to not hurt her to last forever, after all.
She takes a wide, curving path once she sees the other chocobos, attempting to meet up with them partway there.
Once again, Simon Parker is riding on Meliadoul's chocobo, arms wrapped around her waist. He's been nigh-speechless ever since the cold hit; the rime carries with it the stink of the Lich King's influence. It's like an oil slick over the land, coating absolutely everything. The bandana tied over his eyes is doing absolutely nothing to keep out the aura of ice and rot.
It only gets worse as they approach the rendesvous point. The Captain looks positively ill as he senses Boreas and his rider-the sheer amount of necrotic Essence there is enough to turn his stomach. But Simon soldiers on, watching as little points of human life wink out of existence beneath waves of frozen death. "Take down that dragon!" Parker bellows. The demon draws an M-16 from behind his back and hops off the back of Meliadoul's mount.
He ends up landing in a heap, ducking and rolling, and crashing into a half-frozen haystack. He'll be a minute.
It grieves Ovelia to see the Oaks estate in its present condition, though she does not let on that she feels such. It's only a place, and long-since destroyed, but she can't help thinking in metaphors when she glances at the shield Meliadoul holds and recalls the account of the last battle she heard in Azeroth. Flowers were the farthest thing from her mind on that journey, certainly.
The queen keeps her mount running a bit behind her escort, her hold on the reigns still somewhat unsure. It handles like a chocobo, feels like one, sounds like one- yet she can't quite convince herself it's the same. Across her knees is a healing staff; the materia Zack gave her is in a pouch at her belt, ready to be taken in hand if needed. She might be useful yet against the Scourge's hoards, if not against Agrias herself. It was just as well, as Ovelia did not believe she could raise a hand to her knight, or whatever creature it was who wore her face.
"Good luck, Dame Tengille," Ovelia calls against the wind, swallowing cold, icy wind when she spots the dragon. "I will help as I can." And she would have had words for Simon, also, had he not leapt from their mount. Ah well.
Once again, Gwen has borrowed a chocobo. Riding may be of little use over much of the planes and in Sigil, but to effectively travel in worlds like these, she needs a mount. Shivering a little in spite of her outfit as the bird approaches the meeting point, the diviner takes a hand off her reins, intoning a quick spell to at least make the environment more comfortable.
There's a shout of, "Captain!" as Simon takes a bit of a spill ahead of her, in his attempt to dismount. Sliding off her own bird, the normally clumsy genasi appears to be having a better time of it for a change as she moves to lend a hand. At least, until she slips on a patch of ice about halfway. Whoops. At least she gets up again without too much trouble-that is, she only stumbles briefly as she approaches Meliadoul and Parker. Her attention is elsewhere, though; at the skies. "...The dragon."
The past couple of weeks have been less than pleasant for Master Sergeant Schmidt.
Left to Doktor Shamal's tender mercies and medical studies, confined to the infirmary, unable to see much of his colleagues and friends aside from the IPA radio linkups have made for a very restless mage indeed. Never mind how having his magic effectively taken away for several days has had an effect on him. Fortunately, that last detail was a temporary one, and things seem to be back to normal...at least, normal for him.
Given the need for inconspicuous haste at the moment, he's been persuaded to take a chocobo again in order to get on scene. Luckily, it is a rather agreeable mount, and so there is only minimal trouble for him along the way. He has his Barrier Jacket on, Balmung at his waist, and every so often flexes his metal hand absently. Does it look bulkier than usual, or is that just a trick of the light?
Also, he is not shooting dark glances at Simon hugging Meli. At all. Really.
The dragon sweeps through the skies with surprising grace, despite its dessicated body. This creature may well be ancient, with bones nearly fossilised, and frost hanging in a perpetual cloud about its snout and open maw.
Villagers below scream and attempt to flee, but they aren't fast enough. The frozen breath of Boreas reaches them before they can run five paces. When his breath isn't enough, the frost wyrm descends low enough to swipe his massive claws at the villagers, knocking them over or simply tearing into them; clubbed tail swinging as well. This isn't a battle - this is a massacre.
Boreas lands in the midst of an iced-over field, stretching forward in what almost seems a bow, for his master to dismount. Agrias Oaks also lands heavily, immediately reaching for the runeblade at her shoulder. Rimehowl is drawn, and cold seems to shimmer around it in a haze of frost.
Parker is right to seem ill. It reeks of necromantic Essence, or whatever one may wish to call the term. It's simply not right, and it feels it. Gathering his hind legs, Boreas pushes off from the ground again, the beat of his withered wings still producing enough wind to knock over a few more villagers. He wheels off towards the next field, spraying frost and death as he goes.
Agrias begins to stride forward, unhurried as she tracks down the fleeing farm labourers. Some of them are slowed by the chill, unaccustomed to weather more suited to Romanda. A flick of the wrist, and she reaches out with her blade, lashing out and impaling a nearby villager.
She deosn't even look at those she kills, her eyes instead turning towards the arriving caravan of chocobos. A nasty little smile twists her face.
"Well, well. If 'tis not the Agency's best. Come ye," she calls to them, beckoning with Rimehowl held aloft, blood still steaming on its frozen blade. Her voice sounds wrong - too deep, and oddly... modulated, as though it were out of synch with itself.
She pauses, as though listening, head cocked to one side. Then she nods, to some unseen order. "Yes, my Lord."
Her eyes and attention turn back towards her former friends and allies. "The Scourge is always willing to accomodate new members." She pauses, long enough to thrust Rimehowl through another hapless bystander, withdrawing the sword with a wrench of her arm. "I shall not fail, this time!"
It begins.
Cidolfas doesn't slow, doesn't dismount. Indeed, he urges his mount to a charge, blade held low to the side as he bears down on the dismounted Death Knight.
The light striking Excalibur seems to grow brighter, and a note that isn't quite heard with the ears seems to whisper through the air as the distance closes. The chocobo shies and balks as it draws near to the unnatural chill spread by the wyrm and it's rider, but its charge does not stop.
The Sword Saint raises his blade to the attack.
Not a word is spoken, not a threat uttered, not a battlecry shouted. There is only silent resolve. Excalibur fairly screams through the air, trailing light and sound as it lashes to the assault.
And his target is the hellblade in Agrias' hand.
Don't be jealous Chrissy. Considering the demon is blind at the moment, you have absolutely nothing to worry about. Right.
The knight scowls at the sight of the treatment that Agrias is giving to her own people. The Agrias she knew would have never tolerated this behavior. Instead, when Simon dismounts Meliadoul stays astride for a moment longer scanning the battlefield. The light of Excalibur reaches her eyes and she murmurs. "He is here." The familiar sight of Reis upon Iksys not too far brings a small smile to her lips, which widens then at the sight of Gwen and Christoph. With all of them AND Ovelia, there is no way they will lose.
She dismounts then and runs her hand over Bigg's neck. "Go." She whispers and then looks to Ovelia, "Stay back your majesty and do not enter combat unless you absolutely have to." She looks to where Agrias just dismounted, "I am not sure she would be able to hold herself back." Her own blade then flashes as she strides forward.
Frosted grass crunch beneath thick steel and she stares at the Death Knight with impassive eyes. "You will not find our lives so easy to take Lich King. We will reclaim Agrias Oaks from you!" Even as Cid charges forward upon his Chocobo, the templar is not far behind. She will leave the dragon to those who are in a better position to handle it for the moment but she WILL tank it if she must. The blessed blade flashes through the air to attack Agrias's side, perhaps an attempt to distract her from the Thunder God?
Parker extracts himself from needles of half-frozen hay, and winces as he climbs to his feet. The Gamester fumbles with his weapon for a few moments before he finds the safety and flicks it off. "Oaks," Parker whispers. "We haven't given up." This is immediately followed by the Balseraph snapping off a few rounds at Boreas-given the distance involved, they're probably little more than annoyances. But they're meant to draw the Wyrm back, closer, towards people who can deal with it.
Simon might be a demon, but the sight of pointless carnage is so overdone.
Once he's drawn aggro on the Frost Wyrm, he bellows out a challenge. "Arthas Menethil!" Simon roars. "Today we liberate our Captain, one way or another!"
If the Oaks estate grieved her, the village Agrias chose to attack makes Ovelia feel slightly sick when they come within sight of the slaughter. Her eyes quickly move up, away from the blood-slicked ice and the shape of Rimehowl, following the dragon, but at the deep call of the death knight before them, she is forced to look down again and acknowledge. She understands the Scourge a little better now, having visited its place of origin, but this-
This is not Agrias. It cannot be her. The voice, the eyes, the deadened skin- this is not her knight. Not at all.
"Understood!" Ovelia says when Meliadoul speaks, and reigns her mount in at the edge of the battle, where Bigg has been left, clutching her staff and trying not to tremble as Cid bears down on Agrias. Part of her hopes he will strike, but if he hits her- The queen bites down hard on her lip and waits, ready to nudge her bird into action if necessary.
It's a massacre, but it's one they have to stop. Reis swallows as she finally pulls up with the others. She counts heads, trying to determine how many came from the Agency. Not enough - and some people she would rather not see here, if that is Ovelia she sees.
She passes Meliadoul and the others, heading toward Boreas, staying out of Parker's way for him to shoot. She isn't sure if he can see her, after all. And then, perhaps strangely, Reis slows and stops. She stays on Iskys, looking back behind her at Agrias and the others, then at Boreas. They're dealing with Agrias and keeping her busy; good. They have a plan, she thinks, and it doesn't involve killing her. Reis herself has something else to do, and this is something she's never tried before...
"Come here," Reis demands of the enormous dragon. "Come here and stop!" This would not ordinarily be particularly noteworthy - she does not have an imposing voice and is certainly not able to intimidate that...thing. But at the same time, she reaches out, the same sort of way she did with Ruklegos. She doesn't have words for it, but somehow, to a dragon, she's making herself irresistable.
The only real question is whether something this dead actually retains enough of its draconic nature to be affected, even a little.
She's attacking the villagers, slaughtering them! Gwen's throat tightens at the sight, one hand half-raised to her chest. But no, it's not really Agrias doing that. It's him, the Lich King, using her as a twisted puppet. Hands dive for the component pouches on her belt then, and taking a few careful steps foward over the ice and snow, the diviner begins to cast, drawing on the weave of magic.
One pouch is torn open, a pinch of something is tossed forwards. Gwen traces an sigil in the air, and then pauses, holding her spell. "If it is battle you seek, then here we stand!" she cries at the deathknight. Perhaps if she can be drawn over here, then any survivors may escape. "By the Binder of What is Known-" There's a quick gesture, and one final forceful arcane syllable, before Gwen thrusts out a hand at the dragon. A roaring ball of flame erupts from her hand, streaking skywards towards the frost wyrm. Should the beast not dodge the projectile, it will find that it explodes into a wreath of fire upon impact.
With a slow turn of his head, Christoph brings his half-lidded gaze toward Agrias. "Still talking a lot, hm?" he mutters. He first focuses on Rimehowl, then almost unconsciously looks downward to the ground below the death knight's feet. Death and decay shouldn't do that to him again...right? After all the spells Shamal stacked on him, wove into the Barrier Jacket.... His hands tighten slightly on the reins, and he pulls up, prompting the bird to stop, clawing slightly at the ground.
After a quick and mechanical pat, meant to be reassuring in that way that a non-animal lover tries to imitate these things, Christoph quickly hops off and begins advancing through the quickly cooling air toward Agrias. The frost wyrm is given a cursory glance: he remembers well the parting blow that helped put him in the hospital on top of everything else. But this is not a time to shrink back-not that he has ever done so in the face of battle.
"Guten Abend, Hauptmann," he calls out to Agrias as he pulls out his own magical blade. Balmung sparks, then becomes limned in orange fire. Almost unconsciously, the path of his footsteps brings him to stand in front of Ovelia as well; he still doesn't know who she is, but he does know that she is to be protected.
Now, Cid attacks, and the mage tenses. Still, he advances measuredly. Not yet time...not yet time for him to rush in. He must wait to see what happens to Rimehowl.
Agrias holds Rimehowl out to the side as she approaches, black armour clanking with every step, the withered beginnings of frozen crops crunching underfoot. She catches sight of the Thunder God headed towards her, and some small corner of her is most likely terrified at fighting him in a real battle.
But the Lich King knows not what fear is, and does not know the potential of Cidolfas Orlandeau.
She shoulders into Excalibur's stroke, whisking Rimehowl away from the damaging blow. It causes the blessed blade to bite deep into her left shoulder, slicing through her saronite pauldrons, but she seems not to notice. There isn't even any blood. A quick jerk towards the right manages to dislodge the blade, and she gives a chilling little smile.
"The One True King will be satisfied with ye," she rasps, raising Rimehowl to swipe at the old general. Blades clash in a sharp, discordant screech of saronite against the blessed steel of Excalibur. "His very own Bringer of Light... thou art no Uther, but thy service shall nonetheless be useful!"
The stroke from the Knight Templar comes a second too late. She glances over just in time to see Save the Queen, stumbling as the blade bites deep into her side. The Death Knight manages a scoffing sound. "Be that the best thy can fight? Thy usefulness towards the Scourge may yet be naught but as scouts and the meanest of servants!"
In other words, is that the best you can do?
For his part, the frost wyrm ascends, wings thrashing through the half-frozen air over the fields. Boreas roars again, jaws parting to spill more frost. That's about when the rounds Parker fires reach him, landing into a flank, lodging beneath the rotted remains of scales that were, once upon a time, red. They break like brittle paper, shedding behind him as he wheels with an enraged snarl.
"Foolish mortal!" he hisses, his Scourge-cyan eyes blazing. He roars as he dives, voice deep and throaty, though lacking the odd dissonance of the Death Knight. "Seek ye death? The Master will have your soul, and may you pray he finds a use for you!"
And then Reis issues her demand. He pulls up short, vast wings beating as he hovers a moment, casting a quizzical stare at the woman - but ultimately, he doesn't seem swayed. "An interesting trick, girl, but it will not work on a frost wyrm." He laughs. "Yea, the Master will definitely have use for you. Perhaps I should deal with ye first!"
He inhales, empty ribcage expanding, that cyan light blazing. With a rush of painfully frozen air and sharp ice, he exhales, spewing frost and searing cold. Reis better hope she can run out of range fast enough, or that's going to be painfully - and possibly debilitatingly - cold.
"You cannot kill me, monster. You can raise my body, but my soul is eter-" Oh #*@&. Simon's taunt is cut off in mid-sentence by Boreas' frost breath; the Balseraph shouts a "Look out!" to Reis, but it may well be too late. Scowling, the demon tosses the rifle aside. He's going to need more firepower to deal with this monstrosity.
Simon focuses, tapping into the strands of Essence he now sees all too keenly, and weaves his hands in a spiraling, hypnotic pattern. Light sparks from his fingers in a kaleidoscopic display before coalescing into a massive, single beam. The Song completes, and the Celestial ray fires at Boreas. Simon can't see him, but he sure can sense him.
Only then does he reach into his sleeve and draw the Bloody-Handed Judge from its hiding spot. The Concealed weapon slides neatly into his hands, and as soon as Cid and Meliadoul are clear, Simon lunges, swinging the Judge in a high downwards arc, aiming to cut Agrias in two, lengthwise.
Meliadoul grunts, even as Save the Queen finds purchase. "Damnable," She mutters as she reals backwards, pulling with her the heavy blade. It is a small curiosity to see there is no blood, but she has fought THIS version of Agrias enough times to realize that this means nothing. She takes a step back and hears the challenge of the Frost Wrym. For a moment, her gaze is taken upwards before turning her attention back to Agrias at the request of Reis.
At the former Holy Knight's taunt, the templar merely smirks. "Hah. Do you think us so foolish as to show you our full power so early in the game? Come now come now. We will defeat you, but let us dance a little first. See if your control really is as firm as you believe it to be Lich King."
The sword spins briefly in a circle with her shield held high to cover herself. Which is the exact moment that Simon leaps in and makes it three on one. "Christoph!" Her eyes flicker back to see where he is standing and what he's doing. For now, nothing. Good. "Parker, keep her busy for a moment!" She runs backwards for a few steps and then turns to face Boreas fully. "You miserable excuse of a dragon! Do you think you could terrify us? Come closer and let us find out if you really are as frightening as you pretend to be!"
Yes, she's hitting the taunt button to draw said beast closer.
Ovelia shifts in her saddle and backs her mount away a few feet when Christoph takes his place in front of her. The dragon is making her bird nervous - she can feel its muscles tense beneath her, but it does not appear ready to bolt. She wraps the reigns around one hand, rests the other over her heart, and whispers a chant, almost a prayer. This is all she can do, this spell, but it has been effective in the past. Red limns the metal clasps of her cloak, shines in her hair like she has been struck by the light of sunset. It drives away the unearthly chill and invigorates her muscles. At the very least she will be able to withstand a few attacks.
Her spell is cast mere moments before the wyrm spits its attack at Reis, and Ovelia, though not close, is close enough to feel the chill. She reflexively yanks her mount to the side. "Lady Duelar!" The queen shoves her hand into her pouch and grasps the materia. Is it needed? She cannot do much with it, but- oh hell. Ovelia summons what focus she can, the materia in her fist, and directs its energy at Reis. If she doesn't need it, all the better. If it misses, back to the drawing board.
"It is time to go home, Agrias." The words are almost casual, murmured as the Sword Saint recovers from his strike.
However, the wyrm's approach spooks the old knight's chocobo, which gives voice to a horrified screech and shies away, pulling at the reins in fear. In the end, Cidolfas is forced to abandon his mount, leaping from the saddle as the beast gives in to panic and makes a break for the treeline as Cid shakes his cloak back from his sword arm.
A look tracks from Agrias, to the dragon, and back. He frowns.
Then he moves.
The enchantments of Excalibur hasten the old knight's steps, and the faint note lingering around his blade builds to a militant, howling roar as he brings it scything around towards the Death Knight.
"Armor won't help the heart stay sharp!"
The clash of metal against metal rings loudly in Christoph's ears. He squints slightly, looking not just with his eyes but with his magical senses as well, trying to puzzle through the unfamiliar patterns of energy-holy and dark-sizzling against each other as Excalibur is blocked by Rimehowl. It is a solid blow...but Rimehowl is quite solid as well.
No helping it, then. As Meliadoul now strikes Agrias herself, he darts forward as well, raising Balmung slightly. "Und wieder, herzliche Gr・en, Herr Lich Kig," he shouts, once more offering heartfelt greetings to Arthas, wherever he may be. He crouches, moves to dart forward and swing with Balmung, but....
Behind them, the skeletal dragon begins attacking; he feels his Barrier Jacket spells flicker into life. Good thing he asked for the cold absorption seal. He snaps his head around, stares over toward Reis now facing down Boreas alone. "Verdammt," he snarls, and immediately explodes into a swirl of fading lights.
He reappears moments later, next to Reis, quickly reaching out to grasp her around the waist. What? "Excuse the intrusion," he says, curtly. And now both teleport away...right onto the back of the frost wyrm. He immediately drops down to his knees-pulling Reis downward as well-and grabs a hold of one of the exposed ribs to secure himself. "Cast now!" he shouts to Reis. This is a better trick indeed.
Reis Duelar does not really manage to dodge the breath. She does her best - she throws herself to the side, and pulls her coat up to cover as much of her exposed skin as she can manage. It helps; the wave of cold is painful but not deadly, and she can stand up afterwards, although she's a little wobbly on her feet. She's glad she closed her eyes... if she was open, they might have frozen.
She comes up almost into Christoph, is grabbed, and vanishes. She doesn't complain about it, so she may have expected something of the sort, and she manages the landing well enough. Her gloved hands grip onto one of the ribs. "Thank you, ser," she says, before putting her mouth rather closer to Boreas than she would like, taking a breath.
It's cold here. She wishes she'd taken the deep breath earlier; it makes her lungs ache, but it's too late for that now. She looks for a good spot in the exposed ribs and exhales, a great burst of white and blue energy in snaking ribbons of light; where they touch each other, a burst of holy energy erupts.
It could have been so much easier, she thinks, if he had just left.
Gwen's spell misses the great wyrm, as Boreas ascends over the ball of flame. It continues a distance, before gradually fizzling out altogether. Shoulders sagging slightly, the wizard immediately begins another spell, only to interrupt herself, dropping the threads of magic as the wyrm targets Reis. "Lady Duelar! Run!" Gwen cries out, hoping to warn the woman even as she herself breaks into a sprint over the ice. She doesn't make it. In fact, the genasi doesn't make it more than a yard before slipping on the ice again and sprawling painfully across it.
It's a relief, at least, when she pulls herself up again, that Reis is at least still among the living. A dragon's breath can be dangerous, if not lethal. "You," Gwen hisses at Boreas, putting enough venom in the word for a dozen curses. Drawing on a quick spell even as she stands, the wizard gestures at the wyrm. "The Abyss take you!" she cries, even as three bolts of pink energy lance from her fingertips. It might not be a mighty spell, but what Magic Missile lacks in raw damage, it makes up for in numbers.
"See how fragile a thing life is? How truly weak the power of mortals be?" The Death Knight's taunt is a rasping shadow of her former voice, none of its customary quiet tone there. Her eyes blaze that strange bright cyan. "Thy resistance is touching, but courage is easily taken for stupidity!"
Against her will, beyond a doubt, Agrias Oaks is fully in the frozen grasp of the Lich King.
She brings up the cursed sword, seeking to try and block the Knight Templar's blow. Meliadoul is strong, though, and soon disengages to see to the frost wyrm. "Go, coward," Agrias scoffs after her.
Her attention immediately turns towards the next thing in mind, and that would be Simon Parker, trying to cleave her in twain with the Bloody-Handed Judge.
"A sword after the taste of the Master." Agrias smiles a chilling smile. Apparently she's confident enough not to even attempt moving aside. The Bloody-Handed-Judge clashes against her saronite armour, sparks spitting from the contact. It does score a blow, though, skidding past the plates and towards a joint near her side - but as before, there seems to be no blood from her Scourged flesh.
She glances down at the wound, momentarily distracted, then back up to Parker with a snort. "Thine own luck, I would suppose." She raises Rimehowl, aiming to return the blow. Agrias, or the thing that she's become, gives a sadistic bark of a laugh. "An eye for an eye, for thee, but thine eyes are already mine!" Rimehowl's runes flare a bright, unholy blue as the blade falls, ice coating the blade and a frozen mist fogging the air in its wake.
Mid-blow, she's almost struck down by the force of Cidolfas' own blow, stumbling and aborting her swing at Parker. Saronite sunders with the sound of a glacier rending, and one pauldron falls away, revealing the tunic of black-and-silver finery beneath. Part of the chestplate also seems to crack, but it doesn't break.
Rimehowl whips around, one-handed, to point at Cidolfas. "Thy shall pay for that, but later." And then, in the same motion, the chilled strike swings around and back towards Parker. She wasn't done with the Balseraph!
For his part, Boreas backwings, trying to scour the area with as much of his frozen breath as possible. He hovers a moment, watching as Reis gets back to her feet. "Kuh," he snorts, disgusted. "I must be losing my touch, after so many centuries... No matter. I will reduce thee to ground ice beneath my claws-"
And then he gives a very undignified squawk of surprise, finding that there are now two passengers clinging to his frozen ribs. "What is this?!" he bellows, twisting in midair to look at his passengers, snapping at them in a rage. He misses, breaking off bits of his own ribs, but appears not to feel any pain from the shattered tip of bone.
That's about when Ovelia casts her spell at about the same time Reis exhales energies of pure Holy, and the frost wyrm bellows again, this time in very real pain. "Worms! Whelps! I will reduce thee and thy pathetic magic to dust!"
...But he seems to be flying a little crookedly, this time. Score one for Team IPA?
As soon as Boreas breathes out, Meliadoul raises the blue shield strapped to her left arm. The ice breath washes over her and she shivers slightly, but it affects her naught. The shield is glowing faintly with a blue light as it absorbs the magical ice coming towards her. She grits her teeth and keeps it up until the breath passes.
Finally she stands, pulling back up towards her full height and she grins, hearing Cid and also Agrias calling her a coward. "A coward am I?" She turns slightly while the magic users have the dragon busy. "Not so. Allow me to demonstrate my old friend. Or HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN THIS?!" Blue light flickers along the edge of Save the Queen. "SHELLBURST STAB!" In a burst of power so much like Cid's own attack, another mystical claw appears to tear at the heavy black armor the Death Knight is wearing.
The queen exhales in pure relief, giddy with the feeling for a moment when she sees Reis and Christoph on the dragon's back. They are safe then, in a sense, as he cannot seem to reach them. That her spell strikes him and causes pain is also a boon. She wasn't sure the materia's energies would have the same affect as those from her own world, but now that she knows...
Now that she knows, she is going to do something her companions might call stupid. Dame Tengille might phrase it as 'severely lacking in judgement' if she is feeling particularly generous after this and they all happen to survive. The wyrm is too large for her to harm in any significant way, but Agrias... she is a different story. And so, Ovelia nudges her mount into movement, staying on the fringes of the battle, watchful for signs the dragon will attempt to hit her. She concentrates once again on the materia, more carefully this time now that iminent death is not staring Lady Duelar in the face, and casts a fully-powered restore spell-
-on Agrias. God willing, it will hit and cripple, or at least serve as a distraction and allow her companions to finish the job. If this is a choice between destroying her knight or allowing her to trample Ivalice beneath her Lich King's boots, Ovelia would rather see Agrias in peace.
Predictably, Boreas begins to thrash and snap at the uninvited passengers. Christoph reacts to this by calming tightening his grip on the dragon and leaning out of the way of the icy fangs. He does keep one arm, specifically his left elbow, touching Reis' side in case a hasty retreat needs to be beaten. "Missed me," he remarks to the frost wyrm with stoic Teutonic calm.
Taunt completed, he raises Balmung again-still burning with magic fire, if not holy fire-and starts hacking slowly at what looks like strategic bits and pieces of the bone dragon. Hmm, that joint looks important. A ligament here, a tendon there.... "Feel like a gardener," he nonsequiturs. "Doing...what is it called...ach ja. Pruning."
Hack hack. Pause. "Feel free to continue cast...ah...breathing, Fr舫lein Duelar." Hack. "How did you do that?" WHACK.
Reis Duelar is surprisingly good at hanging on - in fact, she has something of a death grip on the exposed bone. It's freezing her fingers but she's doing it anyway. Falling would be worse.
"I hardly think this is a good time to ask!" Reis says, shifting her grip and pulling herself up a little bit. She can't do it again right away, but Reis has surprisingly strong hands; instead she uses her grip to try to break off a chunk of rib, leaving Christoph a better opening for his sword-work. See, she's helping.
Iskys, left on the ground, is starting to un-panic and come back toward the fight, grudgingly.
It's a thankful thing that there's more than enough holy energy flying around already. Gwen's spells with that property are not very powerful at all. She takes a step back, her boot crunching on snow and ice, even as the battle rages, taking a brief moment to look at her teammates. Two of them are clinging to the frost wyrm, making any offensive spell that isn't very precise a bad idea. Thou shalt not teamkill.
Meliadoul, Simon and Cid all seem to be engaging Agrias well enough, and Gwen sends a brief prayer in their direction. Off to one side also is Ovelia, the queen. If needed, the wizard will attempt to shield her, but there's a definite hope that won't be necessary. Instead, a better plan is to draw Boreas' fury her way to begin with.
"Surrender your attachments to this plane, wyrm!" Gwen calls out from where she stands. Again, her fingers twist in the motions of a spell. "It will go far more easily for you!" There's a point at each wing as Gwen murmurs the words of the spell, and then, to her allies, "Lady Duelar, Staff Sergeant, hold on!" One more gesture, and a bolt of flame flies at each tattered wing. Maybe it'll be enough to down Boreas. And maybe, it won't.
"Master Sergeant now," comes a faint yell from the dragon's back.
"My apologies!" a comes a rather chargined reply.
"Ist schon gut!"
Where: Fantasy Sector - Lesalia Imperial Capital
When: 19 September 2008
What: Upon finding the corrupted Vanguard Captain, the Agency operatives decide that now is the time to return her to her senses - and back to the land of the living.
Watch For: Christoph gets to dragon-wrangle. Many other things, including awesome from everybody involved.
Fantasy Sector - Lesalia Imperial Capital
Lesalia Imperial Capital lay at the heart of Ivalice, in the central province of Lesalia. It is among the largest cities of this medieval kingdom, as well as one of the most ancient. The city has closely-packed houses, made of timber and sloped roofs, that hug to winding narrow streets. At the center of the city is an immense castle - the palace of the Ivalician royal family. It also houses the Senate, and countless nobles.
Contents:
Agrias Oaks
Christoph Schmidt
Cidolfas Orlandu
Gwen Meynolt
Meliadoul Tengille
Ovelia Atkascha
Simon Parker
Obvious exits:
Northeast leads to Fantasy Sector - Nelveska Temple.
Dusk falls on the Kingdom of Ivalice, casting snow and ice against a red backdrop. The fields north of the ice-slicked ruins of House Oaks begin to thaw from their recent permafrost the further one goes from them, and as the elevation rises, so does the life seem to return. Shoots of wild wheat and half-dead trees seem a little more invigourated.
The farms of Grogh Heights are generally well-organised, and well-run - between storing for winter and affording a tithe to the nearby royal capital, they have to be in order to survive. That means there are massive amounts of labourers, mostly the poorest of the peasants that are doubtless tied to the land they work. Some of the knights returned from the Fifty Years' War have returned here, to work the land that they may have been raised in, having put aside their weapons of war. Others are slaves, brought from distant lands - survivors of the war from Romanda; Ordalian soldiers, their children.
In any case, it's a relatively high concentration of population.
And for the Death Knight in their midst, it's an irresistable lure.
A dark shape wings its way over the skies, a blot on the blood-coloured skies. The steady thump of leather wings issues from the figure, every so often. It has the unmistakable look of a dragon, but there's something fundamentally wrong about it - its wings are ragged, with barely any mass to them, and its very ribs seem to be splayed open, as though there were no tissue to its frame. A lurid blue light suffuses where its insides should be, and the light also fills its empty, near-skeletal sockets. Its clubbed tail swings behind it in time with its flight.
As it nears the farms, it roars; a horrible, screeching sound that lingers over the horizon and causes the workers below to look up in dawning horror. The unliving frost wyrm spews a gout of frozen breath, trailing and glittering where the sun catches the ice crystals.
Death comes on swift wings to Grogh Heights. No sooner is that practise shot done than the creature swoops, screeching again as it lets fly another gout of its frozen breath, this time seeking to spray it across the breadth of the farm's vast, tilled fields. A figure can be seen on the dragon's neck - a knight in black armour, with a great sword of light-swallowing black, and an unmistakable countenance.
It's Agrias Oaks.
The journey to Azeroth had been profitable in some ways and yet highly disappointing in others. The gold from gathering all the flowers had been very nice, but information on how to defeat the Lich King was fairly scant. All she, Ovelia, Zack and Aerith could dig up was just how awful and what kind of powers the Lich King and the Scourge had. So it is time to take things in their own hands.
Cid had stationed himself at the edges of the Oaks estate and so she rides out to join him, but she does not ride alone. Zack and Aerith decided to stay in Azeroth to continue to try and find information on the Lich King while the templar and Ovelia rode out to meet Cid. On the way, they stopped by an armor to pick up a very important item that Meliadoul had seen the last time she was in Ivalice. An Ice Shield. Considering Agrias has shown considerable aptitude with ice based attacks, best be prepared.
The blue shield is held at the forefront as she rides towards Grogh Heights where she last heard of Cid's location. She arrives just in time to see the devastation being laid out by the Frost Wrym. "So it begins." Save the Queen clears its sheath and she begins to ride forward, looking first for the THunder God.
The trek has been longer than would have been usual for the old knight. He has a non-combatant in tow, after all. A pair of chocobos break from the treeline, one the usual gold, the other one of the red variety, both bearing riders. Cidolfas draws up with a scowl, watching the frost wyrm perform it's next pass, eyes seeking out the dark-armored form on it's back.
There she is.
"Ser Oaks. Stay close, but be prepared to make for cover should the dragon take offense."
A squeeze of the old knight's legs urges his mount on towards the besieged farmlands. The Templar's party is spotted off to the side and Excalibur rings free of its sheath, flashing in the fading sun, catching the eye.
The Thundergod has entered the field.
Reis Duelar never went to Azeroth. Nor did she garrison herself anywhere... but she's pretty good at getting around in a hurry. Not perfect, but good.
Reis is riding Iskys, her black chocobo, who seems to be fine with being ridden in a hurry toward the farmlands - at least, she isn't shying away or objecting to carrying Reis. Reis herself has put on her ushanka and overcoat, just in case. She can't trust Agrias' desire to not hurt her to last forever, after all.
She takes a wide, curving path once she sees the other chocobos, attempting to meet up with them partway there.
Once again, Simon Parker is riding on Meliadoul's chocobo, arms wrapped around her waist. He's been nigh-speechless ever since the cold hit; the rime carries with it the stink of the Lich King's influence. It's like an oil slick over the land, coating absolutely everything. The bandana tied over his eyes is doing absolutely nothing to keep out the aura of ice and rot.
It only gets worse as they approach the rendesvous point. The Captain looks positively ill as he senses Boreas and his rider-the sheer amount of necrotic Essence there is enough to turn his stomach. But Simon soldiers on, watching as little points of human life wink out of existence beneath waves of frozen death. "Take down that dragon!" Parker bellows. The demon draws an M-16 from behind his back and hops off the back of Meliadoul's mount.
He ends up landing in a heap, ducking and rolling, and crashing into a half-frozen haystack. He'll be a minute.
It grieves Ovelia to see the Oaks estate in its present condition, though she does not let on that she feels such. It's only a place, and long-since destroyed, but she can't help thinking in metaphors when she glances at the shield Meliadoul holds and recalls the account of the last battle she heard in Azeroth. Flowers were the farthest thing from her mind on that journey, certainly.
The queen keeps her mount running a bit behind her escort, her hold on the reigns still somewhat unsure. It handles like a chocobo, feels like one, sounds like one- yet she can't quite convince herself it's the same. Across her knees is a healing staff; the materia Zack gave her is in a pouch at her belt, ready to be taken in hand if needed. She might be useful yet against the Scourge's hoards, if not against Agrias herself. It was just as well, as Ovelia did not believe she could raise a hand to her knight, or whatever creature it was who wore her face.
"Good luck, Dame Tengille," Ovelia calls against the wind, swallowing cold, icy wind when she spots the dragon. "I will help as I can." And she would have had words for Simon, also, had he not leapt from their mount. Ah well.
Once again, Gwen has borrowed a chocobo. Riding may be of little use over much of the planes and in Sigil, but to effectively travel in worlds like these, she needs a mount. Shivering a little in spite of her outfit as the bird approaches the meeting point, the diviner takes a hand off her reins, intoning a quick spell to at least make the environment more comfortable.
There's a shout of, "Captain!" as Simon takes a bit of a spill ahead of her, in his attempt to dismount. Sliding off her own bird, the normally clumsy genasi appears to be having a better time of it for a change as she moves to lend a hand. At least, until she slips on a patch of ice about halfway. Whoops. At least she gets up again without too much trouble-that is, she only stumbles briefly as she approaches Meliadoul and Parker. Her attention is elsewhere, though; at the skies. "...The dragon."
The past couple of weeks have been less than pleasant for Master Sergeant Schmidt.
Left to Doktor Shamal's tender mercies and medical studies, confined to the infirmary, unable to see much of his colleagues and friends aside from the IPA radio linkups have made for a very restless mage indeed. Never mind how having his magic effectively taken away for several days has had an effect on him. Fortunately, that last detail was a temporary one, and things seem to be back to normal...at least, normal for him.
Given the need for inconspicuous haste at the moment, he's been persuaded to take a chocobo again in order to get on scene. Luckily, it is a rather agreeable mount, and so there is only minimal trouble for him along the way. He has his Barrier Jacket on, Balmung at his waist, and every so often flexes his metal hand absently. Does it look bulkier than usual, or is that just a trick of the light?
Also, he is not shooting dark glances at Simon hugging Meli. At all. Really.
The dragon sweeps through the skies with surprising grace, despite its dessicated body. This creature may well be ancient, with bones nearly fossilised, and frost hanging in a perpetual cloud about its snout and open maw.
Villagers below scream and attempt to flee, but they aren't fast enough. The frozen breath of Boreas reaches them before they can run five paces. When his breath isn't enough, the frost wyrm descends low enough to swipe his massive claws at the villagers, knocking them over or simply tearing into them; clubbed tail swinging as well. This isn't a battle - this is a massacre.
Boreas lands in the midst of an iced-over field, stretching forward in what almost seems a bow, for his master to dismount. Agrias Oaks also lands heavily, immediately reaching for the runeblade at her shoulder. Rimehowl is drawn, and cold seems to shimmer around it in a haze of frost.
Parker is right to seem ill. It reeks of necromantic Essence, or whatever one may wish to call the term. It's simply not right, and it feels it. Gathering his hind legs, Boreas pushes off from the ground again, the beat of his withered wings still producing enough wind to knock over a few more villagers. He wheels off towards the next field, spraying frost and death as he goes.
Agrias begins to stride forward, unhurried as she tracks down the fleeing farm labourers. Some of them are slowed by the chill, unaccustomed to weather more suited to Romanda. A flick of the wrist, and she reaches out with her blade, lashing out and impaling a nearby villager.
She deosn't even look at those she kills, her eyes instead turning towards the arriving caravan of chocobos. A nasty little smile twists her face.
"Well, well. If 'tis not the Agency's best. Come ye," she calls to them, beckoning with Rimehowl held aloft, blood still steaming on its frozen blade. Her voice sounds wrong - too deep, and oddly... modulated, as though it were out of synch with itself.
She pauses, as though listening, head cocked to one side. Then she nods, to some unseen order. "Yes, my Lord."
Her eyes and attention turn back towards her former friends and allies. "The Scourge is always willing to accomodate new members." She pauses, long enough to thrust Rimehowl through another hapless bystander, withdrawing the sword with a wrench of her arm. "I shall not fail, this time!"
It begins.
Cidolfas doesn't slow, doesn't dismount. Indeed, he urges his mount to a charge, blade held low to the side as he bears down on the dismounted Death Knight.
The light striking Excalibur seems to grow brighter, and a note that isn't quite heard with the ears seems to whisper through the air as the distance closes. The chocobo shies and balks as it draws near to the unnatural chill spread by the wyrm and it's rider, but its charge does not stop.
The Sword Saint raises his blade to the attack.
Not a word is spoken, not a threat uttered, not a battlecry shouted. There is only silent resolve. Excalibur fairly screams through the air, trailing light and sound as it lashes to the assault.
And his target is the hellblade in Agrias' hand.
Don't be jealous Chrissy. Considering the demon is blind at the moment, you have absolutely nothing to worry about. Right.
The knight scowls at the sight of the treatment that Agrias is giving to her own people. The Agrias she knew would have never tolerated this behavior. Instead, when Simon dismounts Meliadoul stays astride for a moment longer scanning the battlefield. The light of Excalibur reaches her eyes and she murmurs. "He is here." The familiar sight of Reis upon Iksys not too far brings a small smile to her lips, which widens then at the sight of Gwen and Christoph. With all of them AND Ovelia, there is no way they will lose.
She dismounts then and runs her hand over Bigg's neck. "Go." She whispers and then looks to Ovelia, "Stay back your majesty and do not enter combat unless you absolutely have to." She looks to where Agrias just dismounted, "I am not sure she would be able to hold herself back." Her own blade then flashes as she strides forward.
Frosted grass crunch beneath thick steel and she stares at the Death Knight with impassive eyes. "You will not find our lives so easy to take Lich King. We will reclaim Agrias Oaks from you!" Even as Cid charges forward upon his Chocobo, the templar is not far behind. She will leave the dragon to those who are in a better position to handle it for the moment but she WILL tank it if she must. The blessed blade flashes through the air to attack Agrias's side, perhaps an attempt to distract her from the Thunder God?
Parker extracts himself from needles of half-frozen hay, and winces as he climbs to his feet. The Gamester fumbles with his weapon for a few moments before he finds the safety and flicks it off. "Oaks," Parker whispers. "We haven't given up." This is immediately followed by the Balseraph snapping off a few rounds at Boreas-given the distance involved, they're probably little more than annoyances. But they're meant to draw the Wyrm back, closer, towards people who can deal with it.
Simon might be a demon, but the sight of pointless carnage is so overdone.
Once he's drawn aggro on the Frost Wyrm, he bellows out a challenge. "Arthas Menethil!" Simon roars. "Today we liberate our Captain, one way or another!"
If the Oaks estate grieved her, the village Agrias chose to attack makes Ovelia feel slightly sick when they come within sight of the slaughter. Her eyes quickly move up, away from the blood-slicked ice and the shape of Rimehowl, following the dragon, but at the deep call of the death knight before them, she is forced to look down again and acknowledge. She understands the Scourge a little better now, having visited its place of origin, but this-
This is not Agrias. It cannot be her. The voice, the eyes, the deadened skin- this is not her knight. Not at all.
"Understood!" Ovelia says when Meliadoul speaks, and reigns her mount in at the edge of the battle, where Bigg has been left, clutching her staff and trying not to tremble as Cid bears down on Agrias. Part of her hopes he will strike, but if he hits her- The queen bites down hard on her lip and waits, ready to nudge her bird into action if necessary.
It's a massacre, but it's one they have to stop. Reis swallows as she finally pulls up with the others. She counts heads, trying to determine how many came from the Agency. Not enough - and some people she would rather not see here, if that is Ovelia she sees.
She passes Meliadoul and the others, heading toward Boreas, staying out of Parker's way for him to shoot. She isn't sure if he can see her, after all. And then, perhaps strangely, Reis slows and stops. She stays on Iskys, looking back behind her at Agrias and the others, then at Boreas. They're dealing with Agrias and keeping her busy; good. They have a plan, she thinks, and it doesn't involve killing her. Reis herself has something else to do, and this is something she's never tried before...
"Come here," Reis demands of the enormous dragon. "Come here and stop!" This would not ordinarily be particularly noteworthy - she does not have an imposing voice and is certainly not able to intimidate that...thing. But at the same time, she reaches out, the same sort of way she did with Ruklegos. She doesn't have words for it, but somehow, to a dragon, she's making herself irresistable.
The only real question is whether something this dead actually retains enough of its draconic nature to be affected, even a little.
She's attacking the villagers, slaughtering them! Gwen's throat tightens at the sight, one hand half-raised to her chest. But no, it's not really Agrias doing that. It's him, the Lich King, using her as a twisted puppet. Hands dive for the component pouches on her belt then, and taking a few careful steps foward over the ice and snow, the diviner begins to cast, drawing on the weave of magic.
One pouch is torn open, a pinch of something is tossed forwards. Gwen traces an sigil in the air, and then pauses, holding her spell. "If it is battle you seek, then here we stand!" she cries at the deathknight. Perhaps if she can be drawn over here, then any survivors may escape. "By the Binder of What is Known-" There's a quick gesture, and one final forceful arcane syllable, before Gwen thrusts out a hand at the dragon. A roaring ball of flame erupts from her hand, streaking skywards towards the frost wyrm. Should the beast not dodge the projectile, it will find that it explodes into a wreath of fire upon impact.
With a slow turn of his head, Christoph brings his half-lidded gaze toward Agrias. "Still talking a lot, hm?" he mutters. He first focuses on Rimehowl, then almost unconsciously looks downward to the ground below the death knight's feet. Death and decay shouldn't do that to him again...right? After all the spells Shamal stacked on him, wove into the Barrier Jacket.... His hands tighten slightly on the reins, and he pulls up, prompting the bird to stop, clawing slightly at the ground.
After a quick and mechanical pat, meant to be reassuring in that way that a non-animal lover tries to imitate these things, Christoph quickly hops off and begins advancing through the quickly cooling air toward Agrias. The frost wyrm is given a cursory glance: he remembers well the parting blow that helped put him in the hospital on top of everything else. But this is not a time to shrink back-not that he has ever done so in the face of battle.
"Guten Abend, Hauptmann," he calls out to Agrias as he pulls out his own magical blade. Balmung sparks, then becomes limned in orange fire. Almost unconsciously, the path of his footsteps brings him to stand in front of Ovelia as well; he still doesn't know who she is, but he does know that she is to be protected.
Now, Cid attacks, and the mage tenses. Still, he advances measuredly. Not yet time...not yet time for him to rush in. He must wait to see what happens to Rimehowl.
Agrias holds Rimehowl out to the side as she approaches, black armour clanking with every step, the withered beginnings of frozen crops crunching underfoot. She catches sight of the Thunder God headed towards her, and some small corner of her is most likely terrified at fighting him in a real battle.
But the Lich King knows not what fear is, and does not know the potential of Cidolfas Orlandeau.
She shoulders into Excalibur's stroke, whisking Rimehowl away from the damaging blow. It causes the blessed blade to bite deep into her left shoulder, slicing through her saronite pauldrons, but she seems not to notice. There isn't even any blood. A quick jerk towards the right manages to dislodge the blade, and she gives a chilling little smile.
"The One True King will be satisfied with ye," she rasps, raising Rimehowl to swipe at the old general. Blades clash in a sharp, discordant screech of saronite against the blessed steel of Excalibur. "His very own Bringer of Light... thou art no Uther, but thy service shall nonetheless be useful!"
The stroke from the Knight Templar comes a second too late. She glances over just in time to see Save the Queen, stumbling as the blade bites deep into her side. The Death Knight manages a scoffing sound. "Be that the best thy can fight? Thy usefulness towards the Scourge may yet be naught but as scouts and the meanest of servants!"
In other words, is that the best you can do?
For his part, the frost wyrm ascends, wings thrashing through the half-frozen air over the fields. Boreas roars again, jaws parting to spill more frost. That's about when the rounds Parker fires reach him, landing into a flank, lodging beneath the rotted remains of scales that were, once upon a time, red. They break like brittle paper, shedding behind him as he wheels with an enraged snarl.
"Foolish mortal!" he hisses, his Scourge-cyan eyes blazing. He roars as he dives, voice deep and throaty, though lacking the odd dissonance of the Death Knight. "Seek ye death? The Master will have your soul, and may you pray he finds a use for you!"
And then Reis issues her demand. He pulls up short, vast wings beating as he hovers a moment, casting a quizzical stare at the woman - but ultimately, he doesn't seem swayed. "An interesting trick, girl, but it will not work on a frost wyrm." He laughs. "Yea, the Master will definitely have use for you. Perhaps I should deal with ye first!"
He inhales, empty ribcage expanding, that cyan light blazing. With a rush of painfully frozen air and sharp ice, he exhales, spewing frost and searing cold. Reis better hope she can run out of range fast enough, or that's going to be painfully - and possibly debilitatingly - cold.
"You cannot kill me, monster. You can raise my body, but my soul is eter-" Oh #*@&. Simon's taunt is cut off in mid-sentence by Boreas' frost breath; the Balseraph shouts a "Look out!" to Reis, but it may well be too late. Scowling, the demon tosses the rifle aside. He's going to need more firepower to deal with this monstrosity.
Simon focuses, tapping into the strands of Essence he now sees all too keenly, and weaves his hands in a spiraling, hypnotic pattern. Light sparks from his fingers in a kaleidoscopic display before coalescing into a massive, single beam. The Song completes, and the Celestial ray fires at Boreas. Simon can't see him, but he sure can sense him.
Only then does he reach into his sleeve and draw the Bloody-Handed Judge from its hiding spot. The Concealed weapon slides neatly into his hands, and as soon as Cid and Meliadoul are clear, Simon lunges, swinging the Judge in a high downwards arc, aiming to cut Agrias in two, lengthwise.
Meliadoul grunts, even as Save the Queen finds purchase. "Damnable," She mutters as she reals backwards, pulling with her the heavy blade. It is a small curiosity to see there is no blood, but she has fought THIS version of Agrias enough times to realize that this means nothing. She takes a step back and hears the challenge of the Frost Wrym. For a moment, her gaze is taken upwards before turning her attention back to Agrias at the request of Reis.
At the former Holy Knight's taunt, the templar merely smirks. "Hah. Do you think us so foolish as to show you our full power so early in the game? Come now come now. We will defeat you, but let us dance a little first. See if your control really is as firm as you believe it to be Lich King."
The sword spins briefly in a circle with her shield held high to cover herself. Which is the exact moment that Simon leaps in and makes it three on one. "Christoph!" Her eyes flicker back to see where he is standing and what he's doing. For now, nothing. Good. "Parker, keep her busy for a moment!" She runs backwards for a few steps and then turns to face Boreas fully. "You miserable excuse of a dragon! Do you think you could terrify us? Come closer and let us find out if you really are as frightening as you pretend to be!"
Yes, she's hitting the taunt button to draw said beast closer.
Ovelia shifts in her saddle and backs her mount away a few feet when Christoph takes his place in front of her. The dragon is making her bird nervous - she can feel its muscles tense beneath her, but it does not appear ready to bolt. She wraps the reigns around one hand, rests the other over her heart, and whispers a chant, almost a prayer. This is all she can do, this spell, but it has been effective in the past. Red limns the metal clasps of her cloak, shines in her hair like she has been struck by the light of sunset. It drives away the unearthly chill and invigorates her muscles. At the very least she will be able to withstand a few attacks.
Her spell is cast mere moments before the wyrm spits its attack at Reis, and Ovelia, though not close, is close enough to feel the chill. She reflexively yanks her mount to the side. "Lady Duelar!" The queen shoves her hand into her pouch and grasps the materia. Is it needed? She cannot do much with it, but- oh hell. Ovelia summons what focus she can, the materia in her fist, and directs its energy at Reis. If she doesn't need it, all the better. If it misses, back to the drawing board.
"It is time to go home, Agrias." The words are almost casual, murmured as the Sword Saint recovers from his strike.
However, the wyrm's approach spooks the old knight's chocobo, which gives voice to a horrified screech and shies away, pulling at the reins in fear. In the end, Cidolfas is forced to abandon his mount, leaping from the saddle as the beast gives in to panic and makes a break for the treeline as Cid shakes his cloak back from his sword arm.
A look tracks from Agrias, to the dragon, and back. He frowns.
Then he moves.
The enchantments of Excalibur hasten the old knight's steps, and the faint note lingering around his blade builds to a militant, howling roar as he brings it scything around towards the Death Knight.
"Armor won't help the heart stay sharp!"
The clash of metal against metal rings loudly in Christoph's ears. He squints slightly, looking not just with his eyes but with his magical senses as well, trying to puzzle through the unfamiliar patterns of energy-holy and dark-sizzling against each other as Excalibur is blocked by Rimehowl. It is a solid blow...but Rimehowl is quite solid as well.
No helping it, then. As Meliadoul now strikes Agrias herself, he darts forward as well, raising Balmung slightly. "Und wieder, herzliche Gr・en, Herr Lich Kig," he shouts, once more offering heartfelt greetings to Arthas, wherever he may be. He crouches, moves to dart forward and swing with Balmung, but....
Behind them, the skeletal dragon begins attacking; he feels his Barrier Jacket spells flicker into life. Good thing he asked for the cold absorption seal. He snaps his head around, stares over toward Reis now facing down Boreas alone. "Verdammt," he snarls, and immediately explodes into a swirl of fading lights.
He reappears moments later, next to Reis, quickly reaching out to grasp her around the waist. What? "Excuse the intrusion," he says, curtly. And now both teleport away...right onto the back of the frost wyrm. He immediately drops down to his knees-pulling Reis downward as well-and grabs a hold of one of the exposed ribs to secure himself. "Cast now!" he shouts to Reis. This is a better trick indeed.
Reis Duelar does not really manage to dodge the breath. She does her best - she throws herself to the side, and pulls her coat up to cover as much of her exposed skin as she can manage. It helps; the wave of cold is painful but not deadly, and she can stand up afterwards, although she's a little wobbly on her feet. She's glad she closed her eyes... if she was open, they might have frozen.
She comes up almost into Christoph, is grabbed, and vanishes. She doesn't complain about it, so she may have expected something of the sort, and she manages the landing well enough. Her gloved hands grip onto one of the ribs. "Thank you, ser," she says, before putting her mouth rather closer to Boreas than she would like, taking a breath.
It's cold here. She wishes she'd taken the deep breath earlier; it makes her lungs ache, but it's too late for that now. She looks for a good spot in the exposed ribs and exhales, a great burst of white and blue energy in snaking ribbons of light; where they touch each other, a burst of holy energy erupts.
It could have been so much easier, she thinks, if he had just left.
Gwen's spell misses the great wyrm, as Boreas ascends over the ball of flame. It continues a distance, before gradually fizzling out altogether. Shoulders sagging slightly, the wizard immediately begins another spell, only to interrupt herself, dropping the threads of magic as the wyrm targets Reis. "Lady Duelar! Run!" Gwen cries out, hoping to warn the woman even as she herself breaks into a sprint over the ice. She doesn't make it. In fact, the genasi doesn't make it more than a yard before slipping on the ice again and sprawling painfully across it.
It's a relief, at least, when she pulls herself up again, that Reis is at least still among the living. A dragon's breath can be dangerous, if not lethal. "You," Gwen hisses at Boreas, putting enough venom in the word for a dozen curses. Drawing on a quick spell even as she stands, the wizard gestures at the wyrm. "The Abyss take you!" she cries, even as three bolts of pink energy lance from her fingertips. It might not be a mighty spell, but what Magic Missile lacks in raw damage, it makes up for in numbers.
"See how fragile a thing life is? How truly weak the power of mortals be?" The Death Knight's taunt is a rasping shadow of her former voice, none of its customary quiet tone there. Her eyes blaze that strange bright cyan. "Thy resistance is touching, but courage is easily taken for stupidity!"
Against her will, beyond a doubt, Agrias Oaks is fully in the frozen grasp of the Lich King.
She brings up the cursed sword, seeking to try and block the Knight Templar's blow. Meliadoul is strong, though, and soon disengages to see to the frost wyrm. "Go, coward," Agrias scoffs after her.
Her attention immediately turns towards the next thing in mind, and that would be Simon Parker, trying to cleave her in twain with the Bloody-Handed Judge.
"A sword after the taste of the Master." Agrias smiles a chilling smile. Apparently she's confident enough not to even attempt moving aside. The Bloody-Handed-Judge clashes against her saronite armour, sparks spitting from the contact. It does score a blow, though, skidding past the plates and towards a joint near her side - but as before, there seems to be no blood from her Scourged flesh.
She glances down at the wound, momentarily distracted, then back up to Parker with a snort. "Thine own luck, I would suppose." She raises Rimehowl, aiming to return the blow. Agrias, or the thing that she's become, gives a sadistic bark of a laugh. "An eye for an eye, for thee, but thine eyes are already mine!" Rimehowl's runes flare a bright, unholy blue as the blade falls, ice coating the blade and a frozen mist fogging the air in its wake.
Mid-blow, she's almost struck down by the force of Cidolfas' own blow, stumbling and aborting her swing at Parker. Saronite sunders with the sound of a glacier rending, and one pauldron falls away, revealing the tunic of black-and-silver finery beneath. Part of the chestplate also seems to crack, but it doesn't break.
Rimehowl whips around, one-handed, to point at Cidolfas. "Thy shall pay for that, but later." And then, in the same motion, the chilled strike swings around and back towards Parker. She wasn't done with the Balseraph!
For his part, Boreas backwings, trying to scour the area with as much of his frozen breath as possible. He hovers a moment, watching as Reis gets back to her feet. "Kuh," he snorts, disgusted. "I must be losing my touch, after so many centuries... No matter. I will reduce thee to ground ice beneath my claws-"
And then he gives a very undignified squawk of surprise, finding that there are now two passengers clinging to his frozen ribs. "What is this?!" he bellows, twisting in midair to look at his passengers, snapping at them in a rage. He misses, breaking off bits of his own ribs, but appears not to feel any pain from the shattered tip of bone.
That's about when Ovelia casts her spell at about the same time Reis exhales energies of pure Holy, and the frost wyrm bellows again, this time in very real pain. "Worms! Whelps! I will reduce thee and thy pathetic magic to dust!"
...But he seems to be flying a little crookedly, this time. Score one for Team IPA?
As soon as Boreas breathes out, Meliadoul raises the blue shield strapped to her left arm. The ice breath washes over her and she shivers slightly, but it affects her naught. The shield is glowing faintly with a blue light as it absorbs the magical ice coming towards her. She grits her teeth and keeps it up until the breath passes.
Finally she stands, pulling back up towards her full height and she grins, hearing Cid and also Agrias calling her a coward. "A coward am I?" She turns slightly while the magic users have the dragon busy. "Not so. Allow me to demonstrate my old friend. Or HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN THIS?!" Blue light flickers along the edge of Save the Queen. "SHELLBURST STAB!" In a burst of power so much like Cid's own attack, another mystical claw appears to tear at the heavy black armor the Death Knight is wearing.
The queen exhales in pure relief, giddy with the feeling for a moment when she sees Reis and Christoph on the dragon's back. They are safe then, in a sense, as he cannot seem to reach them. That her spell strikes him and causes pain is also a boon. She wasn't sure the materia's energies would have the same affect as those from her own world, but now that she knows...
Now that she knows, she is going to do something her companions might call stupid. Dame Tengille might phrase it as 'severely lacking in judgement' if she is feeling particularly generous after this and they all happen to survive. The wyrm is too large for her to harm in any significant way, but Agrias... she is a different story. And so, Ovelia nudges her mount into movement, staying on the fringes of the battle, watchful for signs the dragon will attempt to hit her. She concentrates once again on the materia, more carefully this time now that iminent death is not staring Lady Duelar in the face, and casts a fully-powered restore spell-
-on Agrias. God willing, it will hit and cripple, or at least serve as a distraction and allow her companions to finish the job. If this is a choice between destroying her knight or allowing her to trample Ivalice beneath her Lich King's boots, Ovelia would rather see Agrias in peace.
Predictably, Boreas begins to thrash and snap at the uninvited passengers. Christoph reacts to this by calming tightening his grip on the dragon and leaning out of the way of the icy fangs. He does keep one arm, specifically his left elbow, touching Reis' side in case a hasty retreat needs to be beaten. "Missed me," he remarks to the frost wyrm with stoic Teutonic calm.
Taunt completed, he raises Balmung again-still burning with magic fire, if not holy fire-and starts hacking slowly at what looks like strategic bits and pieces of the bone dragon. Hmm, that joint looks important. A ligament here, a tendon there.... "Feel like a gardener," he nonsequiturs. "Doing...what is it called...ach ja. Pruning."
Hack hack. Pause. "Feel free to continue cast...ah...breathing, Fr舫lein Duelar." Hack. "How did you do that?" WHACK.
Reis Duelar is surprisingly good at hanging on - in fact, she has something of a death grip on the exposed bone. It's freezing her fingers but she's doing it anyway. Falling would be worse.
"I hardly think this is a good time to ask!" Reis says, shifting her grip and pulling herself up a little bit. She can't do it again right away, but Reis has surprisingly strong hands; instead she uses her grip to try to break off a chunk of rib, leaving Christoph a better opening for his sword-work. See, she's helping.
Iskys, left on the ground, is starting to un-panic and come back toward the fight, grudgingly.
It's a thankful thing that there's more than enough holy energy flying around already. Gwen's spells with that property are not very powerful at all. She takes a step back, her boot crunching on snow and ice, even as the battle rages, taking a brief moment to look at her teammates. Two of them are clinging to the frost wyrm, making any offensive spell that isn't very precise a bad idea. Thou shalt not teamkill.
Meliadoul, Simon and Cid all seem to be engaging Agrias well enough, and Gwen sends a brief prayer in their direction. Off to one side also is Ovelia, the queen. If needed, the wizard will attempt to shield her, but there's a definite hope that won't be necessary. Instead, a better plan is to draw Boreas' fury her way to begin with.
"Surrender your attachments to this plane, wyrm!" Gwen calls out from where she stands. Again, her fingers twist in the motions of a spell. "It will go far more easily for you!" There's a point at each wing as Gwen murmurs the words of the spell, and then, to her allies, "Lady Duelar, Staff Sergeant, hold on!" One more gesture, and a bolt of flame flies at each tattered wing. Maybe it'll be enough to down Boreas. And maybe, it won't.
"Master Sergeant now," comes a faint yell from the dragon's back.
"My apologies!" a comes a rather chargined reply.
"Ist schon gut!"