Battle:Defending Cenril;Collapsing the Portal

Part of the Conquest:The Return of the Prek Arc

Summary: The anticipated assault on the city of Cenril finally occurs. A portal is opened, and 8000 Preklek soldiers invade the city proper. The allied forces of The Fold, and Lithrydel’s guard, launch a commando raid counter offensive, in attempt to shut down the portal that the preklek are using to invade the city. They are successful.

Characters: Valaran, Rhocielle, NPC Fold, Aranhil, NPC Lithrydel’s Guard.

LOCATION: Cenril: Elevated Lookout To The Sea’’’

Valaran :: All's clear in the skies tonight despite the coming storm. A single griffon circles through the still air carrying a shrouded man upon its golden back. The creature descends beneath a blanket of illusion, landing silently upon a nearby ridge, and lowers itself to the ground as the mysterious rider slides off. He walks around the griffon to peer over the cliff side while two more griffons carrying enormous barrels in each talon and frighteningly large Preklek on their backs land nearby. Valaran turns back around and busily works at setting those barrels in place- in the shape of a diamond- in the middle of which he stands. The man produces a knife and quickly pries the lid off of each barrel before stepping back to admire his handiwork. From the skies, the scene would appear very macabre. Valaran stands dead center atop a cliff overlooking the result of some long past battle that left the area in much disarray. All around him sit barrels of some mysterious liquid, crimson in hue, and two large Prek stand guard nearby. Several more, each with his own mount, land nearby and, combined with the two riding Wyverns in the sky, the stage is set.

Hollow’s Narrator: The blood mage drops his illusions now unveiling the two prek-mounted Wyverns in the air over the elevated outlook. Acting quickly, the mage lifts his hands towards the sky, rolling them through the air as he calls on that arcane magic with naught but his motion and mind- an impressive feat in and of itself. As he does, the crimson liquid within four barrels surrounding him begins to rise in a thin mist, filling the air before shooting towards the sky above him. The air above begins to crackle and spark with more than lightning. Instead, as it crackles and burns, it would appear that a hole was being ripped into the very fabric of space, the edges of which expand and contrast sporadically as if it were a living, breathing entity with its own temperament. The mage, now fully focused upon that gaping hole, is obviously struggling to keep it open, his hands outstretched towards it as he channels more of his singular magic into this all-important spell. (Seen in Cenril)

Rhocielle shouted, "*A volley of flame tipped arrows blazed across the sky like so many errant comets, originating from the observatory atop the great library of Cenril. Their aim was blind, but their directionality clearly drew attention towards the north eastern bluffs of Cenril's cliffs and the site of the newly formed Preklek portal.*"

Triyul shouted, "*Death loomed. It was still. Sif this very city, took a breath before the plunge. You could hear it though, like a beating heart. One. Two. Three. The first fifteen do not exit and pause, look about, take time to appreciate the view. Nay. They came through that portal at a running gallop, a glowing blue blade in their left hands - over seven feet of gliding death, each one, they leapt from that cliff's edge and expanded both arms so that a thin fold of skin connected from the hip to the wrist could catch wind. The fifteen that followed did the same, quiet as the city was still - but that breath. That breath was being slowly exhaled, forty-five now out of the portal in thirteen seconds, yet they all did the same - headed due west, as if they were a blanket preparing to lay over the entire city. The Preklek had come. An arrow - from the library. It had begun. Several extended their arms toward where that arrow had come, losing altitute in the begining and...that quiet night, became loud with the crackling of lightning. Several bolts, enough to tear block and stone if not burn any metallic garbed creature to a crisp. More flooded through. Already, up to seventy, all gliding quietly. From two thousand feet above, a lone wyvern hovers - watching.*"

Aranhil was walking as he had been all morning. Inspecting this and inspecting that, making sure that everything was ready for the Preklek's when they finally decide to attack and loose their lives. Aranhil knew they would be massively outnumbered in the grand scheme of things, but there were only so many entrance points to Cenril. Each of them was well defended and throughout the entire of the city encampments and barracks were arranged. Lithrydel's Guard had its own army prowling the streets as well, they were scattered here and there helping the other soldiers and militia as needed. Aranhil himself was walking along coastal street northward form the harbor. Suddenly shouts and screams could be heard. Looking to the skies he sees something large flying, too far away to know exactly what. Realizing it was the attack he almost tried to kick himself as he allowed the magic within him to fill the runes on his elven footwear, the gift of elven speed given to him as he races towards the north, the cliff almost visible where he was. Already, by the time it would be buildings blocked his view of all but the gaping whole that was all to unnatural in the sky. Finally he would arrive after a few minutes time, the arrows littered the ground and by now other soldiers had beat him there, some he recognized as his own, others he assumed of The Fold or even the cities militia. Looking above and past them to the scorched earth he saw them finally. The single human that held what appeared to be the whole of the portal went unseen as Aranhil peered upward at the aliens that have invaded their land. Shouting across his mental link warning the others that the prekleks have arrived he prepared himself. The magic from his shoes drained and returned instead to his rings. The bone runic rings gave the frail appearing half elf his strength. Shining a crimson hue from the runes as his body suddenly became filled with the strength of giants. "I fight, for Lithrydel!" he shouted as his eyes finally fell upon the human who seemed well guarded by larger, tougher beasts. He almost ran straight for them but then his mind clicked and he began contemplating on how to best destroy each of them, realizing finally, he couldn't do so on his own...

Arien shouted, "Fire at will!!"

Rhocielle watched from the Calico's deck as the ship made its way to the cove beneath the cliffs. His discussion with Djarun in the previous days had given the Lycan some further foresight to be prepared for a portal opening along the beaches in order to prevent reinforcements from Rynvale to arrive. Though the portal manifested itself upon the highest of the bluffs, all was not lost. Like most of the officers involved in the defense of Cenril, the wolfen warder knew the coastal terrain by heart. Not a moment was spared as the hull of the four sailed ship dug into the soft shallow banks, the black Lycan storming the hidden beach well out of site of the Prekleks above. Twenty five other soldiers, each encased in stolen armor of the Prekleks as their commander was, followed suit. Traveling quickly through the ancient ruins of the seaside citadel, the group was nevertheless careful in their steps. The eroded staircase underneath their feet was well worn and was just as likely to crumble beneath their combined weights. It was the black Lycan that first emerged from behind the battered door bearing the mark of the Council of Shadows. With the unyielding support of the natural staircase beneath him, there was nothing holding him and his men from charging to the top of the site. The Preleks immediately around them would have likely been caught off guard, their eyes drawn to the screaming man that chose to take the main path up to the cliff. Each Fold soldier, now well accustomed to the unconventional commands of the wolf, acted immediately as he uttered a haunting howl. Traveling in triplets, save for the Lycan and one other, they scattered along the site to spead the portal defenders out until Aranhil's forces could arrive.

Valaran shouted, "*The portal high above Cenril seems to flux outwards, enlarging greatly in a matter of seconds before imploding into oblivion. Not a second later, however, it reopens and, though slightly smaller this go round, Prek begin to pour out once more.*"

Valaran shouted, "*Wolves can be heard howling in the not-so-distant over the din of battle. It would seem that they come from the same direction as the Prek Portal.*"

Valaran is no fool. Hearing the elven general's battle cry, he immediately draws up an illusionary cloaking shield, hiding him and his barrels from view and causing him to lose momentary control of the portal. After establishing his cloak, the mage sets to work pouring more of whatever arcane fluid can be found within those barrels into the portal above. It reopens of course, though not quite as wide as before. After all, Valaran's focus is now split between his illusion, the portal, and who knows what else. A lone wolf calls out through the night not to far from here and, should Aranhil care to look, he would see three muscular wolves padding out of a cave in the rock face. They snarl and bare their teeth, snipping at the air as they stalk their newfound prey. Surprisingly, they make no move to attack and, instead, seem to be waiting for the elf to make his move.

Lucia shouted, "*An explosive plume of flames lights up the sky surrounding the Old Guard Tower. The signal to attack is undeniable.*"

Aranhil prepares for battle at the wolves howl that was undeniably Rhocielle. "Attack!" he commands again and those around him obey orders. Rushing forward the beings upon the ground and the few avians in the sky would see almost too late the wolves that confronted them. Aranhil, noticing the wolves rushed forward from his standstill position, after several of his own men were thrashed he would reach the creatures. The avians looked downward, seeing the magic at work, immediately they sent messages telepathically to Aranhil warning him of the false danger, but he didnt hear them. The wards upon his mind reflected back their thoughts. And even so, a known illusion doesnt matter if you cant stop the danger the illusion forces into ones mind. Aranhil continued to fight, the magic of his rings flooding his veins. Upon his hands he wore Steel spiked knuckles, his fist found one wolf square on the maw, breaking its nose and skull as he struck and sent it pummeling backwards. Somehow the human found a way to control the wolves, he would need to find out how and fast. Meanwhile, the avians that saw through the illusion and the few others that made it past the wolves would rush forward. The humans and elves and other such beings attacked the other huge Preklek Guards, never knowing the human may have been within their reach if only for a moment. The avians over head drew their weapons, crossbows and while in the safety of the air the arrows were launched for Valaran. Down the hill a bit Aranhil and another finished the wolves off, but the wolves didnt remain, slowly they faded from existence. It was now that the half elf finally realized the truth. Slightly worn from his battle with the dire four legged creatures the beings that werent seemingly defeated rushed forward once more, nearly to the top of the hill.

Valaran happens to be looking up at the ever widening portal around the time that the avian fleet begins to line their crossbows at him. He rolls his eyes, a true 'I am so tired of this crap' look plastered across his ghastly visage as he throws his hands towards the onslaught of arrows just in time to cast a -quite real- arcane shield. It shimmers purple in the moon light as the crossbow bolts slam into it and veer off of their paths as if hitting water. One, however, simply doesn't veer enough and instead leaves a nasty gash on the mage's left cheek. No matter- it matches the rest of his face. The portal above seems to be getting smaller as Val's attention detracts from it more and more, though this goes unnoticed or unheeded for now. He steps a single foot into the pool of blood at his feet and turns his gaze to the avian fleet once more, this time with fingertips extended much like deadly spikes. With a singularly malefic gesture, he ushers the lifeblood, that which powers a blood mage the most, up through his body and out- out through his fingertips as huge bolts of lightning. That blast skyward, connecting with the nearest avian, setting him ablaze and, though the mage lowers his own hands, it would seem the bolt wants to jump from bird to bird until they're all dead.

Rhocielle brandished the Mage's Bane, almost a bloodlusted craze to his molten silver eyes to end this as soon as possible. The intricate runic design upon the blade of the Lochaber ax hummed to life, granting the blade an eerie glow as he made his way to where he had last seen the mage. Every foot closer to Valaran, the mage would begin to feel the suffocating drain from the weapon specifically designed to stifle the magical powers of any such endowed, perhaps weaking both his illusionary cloak and the size of the Preklek portal. A fierce bark escaped his maws, further echoing and producing louder sound from the confines of his canine helm. In an instant, every third man in the group halted, withdrawing a compact but uniquely constructed crossbow. In blind fire, a volley of eight bolts shot forward in the immediate area of Valaran in dual hopes of either distracting Valaran to cause him to drop his cloak, or killing him outright if they were lucky enough shots. Swift crank of the strange crossbow loaded a second quarrel into the slot to deal with the surrounding Prekleks as Avian arrows also rained down upon the area. Closer still as the mage distracts himself further in dealing with the flying nuisances above, the power of the Bane would be brought to bear upon Valaran's magic as the Lycan swung the weapon in a heavy arc in the direction of the man's cloaked figure. With the almost feral Lycan immediately endangering the mage, Valaran would be hard pressed to both keep the portal open and his own neck upon his shoulders.

Valaran had dropped the illusory cloak as soon as the avians pressed their attack and so he isn't surprised when Rhocielle and his band of merry men not only come up from behind but also spot him rather easily. It's foolish, really, for the men to continue with their arrows as the violet hued shield can still be seen shimmering in the moon light. The bolts go this way and that, twisting against an unseen current as they slam into the arcane shield. It takes little, really, to keep it up due to the strange and mysterious ways the mage has learned to use the lifeforce surging through blood. However, the pool of blood at his feet grows smaller and smaller with each passing minute. Perhaps much to the lycan's surprise, Valaran drops the portal altogether in order to better concentrate on his attackers. The Prek Elite Forces spring into action now, a group of four focusing on protecting the mage at all costs while the two in the air suddenly swoop down to deal with the eight crossbowmen. As Rhocielle nears the mage, two of the Prek press towards him, one with a blade attached to his arm, the other with a crossbow of his own. The latter takes careful aim at Rhocielle and fires though, surprisingly, several bolts fly out at once. All the while, Valaran can visibly be seen struggling just to keep the crossbow bolts landing around him rather than through him.

Aranhil rushed forward, his gaze uncaring as the cloak dropped and the foe became visible again. The lighting that shot through the air seemed to do more than cripple the avian's fleet that had already arrived. The four of them crashed to the earth, taking a few of their allies with them when landing upon them, what a horrible death for a soldier. Aranhil was atop the cliff now and the magic flooded his veins along with his own adrenaline, Mia was at his side as well, the combat healer and him a near perfect duo on their own against better than average enemies, but these were beyond that level. An elite rushed for them before he could come close to the human, jumping into the air sending the full of his speed into his attack he chambered a punch back and released it at his foe, the punch landed upon raised defending arms, the iron knuckles he wore there crashed through his armor, snapping his bone and sending the preklek stumbling backwards. Aranhil had lept from the preks body before landing upon the earth once more in a crouch. Running passed aranhil Mia was seen, using the off balance preklek to her advantage she jumped skyward and landed both feet upon the creature sending him further back and off the cliff side, she landed just a few feet away herself. His head looked up, his eyes gleaming forest green as he prepared his next attack, he would start for the mage next, but easy enough he would see the shield about him and he would halt thinking of what he could do instead. Looking about a moment later he witnessed the Mage's Bane, a weapon sold to the lycan some time ago, he knew its abilities well enough. The small and fragile half elf has more than easily made up for his racial disability with his items of choice. His first attack came quick enough, unbuckling the daggers at his waist he would toss two, each of which had the power of his rings behind them, towards one of the two creatures attacking Rhocielle. One dagger landed in the creatures back, cracking armor before splintering the blade, the second hit the crack true and split his armoured vest apart, piercing him in the back. He hoped that would be enough to help the lycan pass by and reach the mage if not dismiss the lives of both elite.

Arien told Rhocielle, "~God's be dammed wolf, I have taken hurt. Tis but a scratch love, a wolf's bite to the leg..it slows me down~ Her discomfort is evident." Arien told Rhocielle, "~I love you~"

Valaran shouted, "*The portal suddenly bursts back to life, larger than ever, but none the more stable. Prek flow forth and, though the first wave of about twenty hang back, the rest begin heading towards the north.*"

Valaran jogs over to the Griffon that brought him in and, grabbing a tuft of its mane, swings himself onto its back. The Griffon takes to the air with a blast of its wings using valuable seconds of distraction afforded it by the Prek battling below to get out of Mage's Bane's reach but not before carefully grabbing a barrel of blood in its talons. Some sloshes out, likely leaving the blood mage with less than half a barrel to work with, but this is enough for now. He quickly reestablishes the arcane shield, focusing specifically on the Griffon's underside in an attempt to deflect any crossbow bolts away from his mount. Valaran takes a moment to survey the mayhem below. One of his Prek guard, soon joined by yet another, press against Rhocielle, threatening to slice him apart. On the other side, Aranhil seems to have problems of his own- namely, the remaining Prek ground forces. The three Prek attack him and his battle mate simultaneously attempting to draw them apart. Suddenly, a wyvern sweeps past him, headed to the line of eight crossbowmen who, whether they make it there alive or not, will likely crash into them, sending them sprawling. With a satisfied smirk upon his deformed lips, the mage turns his attention to the skies once more and, drawing from the blood graciously carried by his mount, concentrates on reopening the portal. He succeeds, the excitement of his 'victory' evident in the size of that portal. The first wave doesn't head towards Triyul, however… Instead, it shoots straight down into the thick of the battle below.

Lucia shouted, "*Battlecries and screams of pain can be heard, echoing over the city from their origins near Congressional Way. The fighting remains fierce... violent explosions in the streets and across the rooftops. Both sides, it seems, are intent upon tearing the city to pieces.*"

Rhocielle roared in hellish rage at the Prekleks that dared attempt to deny him his kill, a menacing glare to his silver eyes at knowing that his mate had been injured elsewhere. Like a bestial wraith, his free paw like hand unsheathed Mestaes, blade of Summer. Rocketing upward in a sickeningly rapid arc from its sheath, the blade sung savagely for its icy counterpart where ever Arien and her own blade might be. The resultant maneuver produced a roaring wall of scorching flames directed at any obstructing Prekleks. Glaring at the departing mage, his focus shoots to Aranhil. Shrieking a knowing whistle at the elven male, the Lycan surprising charges at Aranhil. Graceful movements better left to the operatic theater in Rynvale, the man's strength imbued hands take hold of the wolfen male's arm and leg in mid air. Spinning upon his heels for no more than three cycles, Aranhil released the now airborne wolf in direct path of the hovering Griffin. Further extending his bolting flight, arriving Avians from Aranhil's surviving take hold the armored shoulders to keep the Lycan aloft as the Mage's Bane once more disrupts the stability of the portal while the wildly slashing Mestaes erupted the skies with blazing waves of flames at the Griffon and its cargo. As the eight crossbowmen released second and loaded a third volley, their assigned twin comrades inclined their heads in unison towards the pair that endangered their range partners. Plumes of flames flew from their mouths, their own lips unscathed as a result of Fire Breath Elixirs, for sale at Aranhil's shop which is located at the corner of Kelay Way and Milous Road for all travelers' convenience. When incinerating fires would subside and scorched armored bones would remain, each triplet of soldiers would seek out new targets in brutal efficiency alongside their Lithrydel allies, with both blades and breaths of fire even as the portal remained opened anew. By the time the Wyvern appears, the Fold Warders were already reassembled in triplet formation. Only one set of three caught in its plummeting charge, flanking groups were quick to skewer the creature with a proceeding volley of fletchettes.

Aranhil and those at his command have before them three of the brutes, the genetically enhanced beasts. Finally, after so long a wait their ace slips through the crowd of warriors. Elwood, an elven herbomacer makes his appearance. "Give him room!" Aranhil shouts as he evades a well thrown punch from the preklek before him. The crowd backed away, leaving Aranhil with the three great beasts as Elwood threw a large pouch to him. Aranhil jumped back and caught it with no problem. In the entirely too large bag were four seeds. Removing each of them Aranhil works to place them upon the prekleks bodies. The first was harder than he thought, as the preklek came at him again for another series of punches aranhil launches himself into the air and after a somersault he lands behind the creature, Kicking the prek in the back he flies to his face in the earth before him just before Elwood would toss down a seed of the same kind. The next was easy enough to deal with, the prek attempted a forward kick and Aranhil caught the creatures leg and with a grunting throw threw him back as well before planting the seed on his armor in a crevice. He was out of time. Throwing the remaining seeds over the cliff Elwood worked his magic. Suddenly the seeds sprouted, and began to grow, the plant grew and grew, roots planted directly into the prekleks skin and growing longer in their viens. Elwood worked to make them act faster than ever. They drained the life of the two preks in under a few mins. Aranhil had spent the remainder of the time dodging and evading the other preklek before him, looking for his best spot to strike. The seeds belonged to that of a parasitic vine, one only found in the mystic forests of enchantment. The vine slowly over years devours its hosts energy and engulfs its frame. Elwoods magic over herbomancey had sped that process far beyond any natural means. The prekleks died, and the vines shortly after. Aranhil found his opening now, jumping inward for his own kick he miscalculates the distance and this creature which seems faster than the others, or he is slowing down, a heavy arm comes crashing down on the half elfs left arm, breaking it in multiple places. Rage grew inside of him as the pain threatened, revisiting his idea he turns on his heel and with his other leg completes the kick he had previously attempted. Finding the three before him dead finally he bent over and supported himself upon his knees as he gasped for fresh air to enter his lungs. "Finish this battle!" he roared finally giving the order for the others to enter the fray again.

Valaran :: The mage was seriously trying to keep his cool. Like seriously. But this lycan seems quite intent on killing him and the battle below is going… He sighs, and then Rhocielle is upon him! The griffon veers to the right in an attempt to twist out of the lycanthrope's path but to no avail. The creature is instantly set ablaze by the lycan's weapon and bucks madly about in an attempt to cool off. Of course, in the process, luck would have it that Val is thrown from the flaming mount. The portal closes instantly as he focuses on nothing but the ground below which seems to speed up at him at an alarming rate. What could save him but… One of the elite prek's forgotten mounts soars towards him, snatching him up in its talons and pulling it into the skies. There's not a second to lose; the portal must go up! And so the pair, mage and griffon, soar to the north not away but -towards- the battle. He hopes only to lose the lycan and elf if only for a brief second.

Triyul shouted, "*Prekleks stop flowing out of the portal suddenly, sif none remain*"

Valaran shouted, "*A much smaller more compact portal appears over Cenril into which flies a lone Wyvern carrying a mysterious passenger. All portals close immediately thereafter, perhaps never to be seen again?*"

Rhocielle shouted, "I will skin all of you alive! And construct my own portal from your hides to exterminate your race!"