Battle:Ordox Assaults Rynvale
Fog Covered Path
It is very difficult too see much around you here as the path is completely covered in a thick swirling fog that seems to wind its way around everything touching surrounding everything like some great ethereal entity reaching out to explore all around it. You can make out the vaguest of large shapes for example the thick forest to your north that the fog seems to roll out of, before streaming it's way into the hills and cliffs beyond. As you continue you notice that it even becomes harder to see your feet for the thick fog caressing your legs almost as if it is reaching out to take hold of you, an unnerving situation to say the least.
-- A week before the assault, Ordox had visited the bone pit in Kregus, pouring a vial of Vuryal's tainted blood among the carcasses. The rats and a few carrion had feast upon the blood and undertaken transformation. It is at that point that Ordox had recruited about 100 troops of ogres and goblins to fight in the name of Vuryal and cause as much destruction as possible to Rynvale. With this light infantry, Ordox then separated his body into tiny portions, allowing them to rummage through the bone pit to find bodies manageable to become puppet soldiers. Later that day, these puppet soldiers, ogres, goblins, and wraithified rats, along with the dragon-wraith Remton prepare to make their way to Rynvale --
Ranok || The elven scout, born and bred on the island of Rynvale, was moping along. Why did he have to get stuck with the sucky duty? It sucked not being able to have a fire at night, and sleeping on the cold ground to prevent making a marking on the ground from his passing. He had a week long 'shift', for scouting this part of the forest. Then he'd be swapped by someone else and he could go back to the warm city of Rynvale, and stop waking up in the cold fog every morning. Then, his sharp ears detect something. Something massive crashing through the underbrush. Like...an ogre. The ones he was supposed to be watching. Feet that lightly caress the ground move the scout to a position to see. Then the shadow of Remton over head. That was all he needed to see. This fellow was young and twitchy, and likely would have sounded the alarm if it was just Remton, or maybe just a very scary bug. He scrawls a coded message onto a bit of paper, and yanks out a bottle from his belt. The message is stuffed into the bottle, and subsequently disappears. It was linked to another bottle, where officers would intercept the messages and read them. The inital warning was given. Ranok would begin the stages of assembly, while Vuryal's minions trudged through the untamed wilderness that was the Fog Forest. Hacking a path where a path did not exist would take time, and that time was cherished. In the mean time, the scout moves forward as stealthily and silently as possible. The warning had been issued, but numbers, forces, and what exactly was being thrown were all needed. Every drop of information was useful, every blank filled could mean life or death, and that scout would try to fill them in. Remton is able to fly high enough and follow the scout, using the clouds as cover. She uses her dragon eye to find him and when she does she dives down and spits acid at him. Once his duty is done, she finally nails him with a jet of acid and kills him. The acid burns through his flesh and insides, melting him. Remton scoops him up before he burns away, eating him in the air.
-The army continues their approach in multiple waves, quaking through the foggy terrain, unknown of Remton's albeit delayed reaction to the scout which has already forwarded word of the strike. The brave elf had done his duty, though that was the last thing he would do before he met his end. The drumming continues...making it's way toward the entrance of the city. The drumbeats of battle are coming...
Ranok || Suddenly, back in Rynvale, the bottles light up with messages coming in to Ranok and other officers. The sound of Remton crashing through the leaf cover to get that poor soul was heard throughout the entire forest. Which, of course, caused the other ones to sound in their alarm. Ranok has the confirmation needed, and the deployment of troops on his end is accelerated. In the mean time, the native dragon of the Fog Forest, the Mist Dragon, sees a huge invader on its territory. The Mist Dragon takes to the air, bellowing its displeasure at Remton mucking with its turf. The semi corporal dragon makes a beeline for Remton. It was pissed off, and was ready to defend its territory to the death. Clouds of mist issue forth from every wingstroke, kicking up intense fog in the air to blind Remton. On the Rynvale side, Ranok has sent the Snow Imp given to him by Satoshi forth, bearing a message to both her and Kasyr. Those two always had an unhealthy obsession with dragons, and Remton being active was like catnip to them, in Ranok's eyes. The Snow Imp gives Ranok the middle finger before disappearing in a puff of frost, detailing the information he had. Remton was in the air, and there was an army moving through. The rest of the scouts in the forest head towards the drum beats, to get head counts. They were not as hapless as the first one, and Remton would be unable to grab the more experienced ones like she had the first. If she could deal with the mist dragon now heading to tear her from the sky in the first place.
Remton growls and spots the other dragon. The mist rolling in isn't a problem for her and she opens her maw to release a green acidic smelling breath, breath that taints the mist and fog. She also listens for the wing beats of the other dragon and roars with delight, if she could. Darkness is called in with that roar, sending everything around them in a complete black void, where no light would be of help. Remton dives toaward the other dragon, lashing out with her blade like tail, to throw the mist dragon off. Thing is, black dragons are water dragons, and being a wraith, she had the double advantage. She could see in the darkness and the mist/fog was no problem to
-The army continues their march, but at this time the Rynvalian scouts can only gain sight of about less than 100 troops... They probably surmise that it is nothing more than a large raid. Yet, if they remain in position a moment longer, they know will certainly be killed and be of no more use to the homeland troops.
Ranok || The Mist Dragon hunted in the lack of sight all its life. It was adapted to sighting, picking out prey much smaller then it, and was quite old to boot. Remton had nothing on its ability to move through on sight alone. Complicating things was that the Mist Dragon was not a corporeal being, in the completely solid sense. Its wings did not beat, but whisper. Its claws did not catch, but stick and pry. Remton may have been water breathed, but the Mist Dragon WAS of water and magic. Remton's breath was countered by a chilling jet of frost, penetrating and invasive as all fog was, to try to freeze the very acid in her own throat. As for the bladed tail, it passes through the Mist Dragon, streaming trails of water vapor. The lash injured, but not in the way Remton expects. Lacking a solid body as it does, it lived on through the very mists. It could be chased away, but not killed easily. The Mist Dragon was in killing mode, its open challenge to Remton laid down in its first bellow. Now it was eerily silent as the mists themselves. Remton sinks her teeth into the dragon and infuses it's body with her inky acid. But she is an older dragon and it wouldn't be easy for the mist dragon to clense itself of the tainiting Remton gave to it. The mist dragon is hurt and with the acid rain falling, its constantly being pe;ted by acid. But she sighs and moves to its neck after being hit with its tail. She bites its neck, then bites it all the way through with the help of her claws, severing its neck and killing it. She roars in triamph as the mist dragon is killed, and she can move one and finish her business, a bit tired.
Ranok || As the hours ticked by, Ranok's troops moved towards the Fog Forest. But his tactics were not what could be expected. He was not going to have a last stand on that fog covered path. Instead, he spread his troops. All along the path towards the sea cliffs that had to be passed through to get to Rynvale themselves. Their idea was harassment. The fog would cover their movements, the land familiar to many of them. The forces of Vuryal's were not born on that side of the forest, did not venture forth even while the dangers lurked. These men had, Rynvale born and bred. Positions on the side of the path. Lurking, hidden. Quietly, waiting. The scouts of the army moving through would be allowed to pass unmolested. The objective was the bulk of the army. These troops were not to halt, but to harass. Worry at the numbers like a dog on a bone. Deplete and fade into the mists themselves. And that would be what they did. Arrows laced with toxins, fired from crossbow and longbow alike, relying on the super natural senses the elven defenders had. Men in the column would fall with arrows in neck and limbs. The whole way through the path. Charges into the fogs would yield little. The mists whirling about, hands empty. The men had already moved on. When shields raise to weather the arrows, firebombs would be employed. Alchemial fire to whither the troops of resolve and man power. With shields interlocked, the fire would spread like on the back of a turtle. Not killing, much maiming, burning, and destroying those shields that could be then broken through with more arrows. Men doing this deed might be caught, in ones or twos, if a halt was called to look, but that called for a choice. Halt to look for the ambushers in the mist? Risk the grinding slow of the army? Or accept the losses and the fire, the men dropping with fetching in skull or neck, their bodies trampled by comrades to push forward into the clear cliffs were such tactics would fail? That was to the commanders, but those commanders would have to be careful. Arrows would seek them the instant they made themselves known, attempts to kill the command as fast as possible.
Ranok || As the hours ticked by, Ranok's troops moved towards the Fog Forest. But his tactics were not what could be expected. He was not going to have a last stand on that fog covered path. Instead, he spread his troops. All along the path towards the sea cliffs that had to be passed through to get to Rynvale themselves. Their idea was harassment. The fog would cover their movements, the land familiar to many of them. The forces of Vuryal's were not born on that side of the forest, did not venture forth even while the dangers lurked. These men had, Rynvale born and bred. Positions on the side of the path. Lurking, hidden. Quietly, waiting. The scouts of the army moving through would be allowed to pass unmolested. The objective was the bulk of the army. These troops were not to halt, but to harass. Worry at the numbers like a dog on a bone. Deplete and fade into the mists themselves. And that would be what they did. Arrows laced with toxins, fired from crossbow and longbow alike, relying on the super natural senses the elven defenders had. Men in the column would fall with arrows in neck and limbs. The whole way through the path. Charges into the fogs would yield little. The mists whirling about, hands empty. The men had already moved on. When shields raise to weather the arrows, firebombs would be employed. Alchemial fire to whither the troops of resolve and man power. With shields interlocked, the fire would spread like on the back of a turtle. Not killing, much maiming, burning, and destroying those shields that could be then broken through with more arrows. Men doing this deed might be caught, in ones or twos, if a halt was called to look, but that called for a choice. Halt to look for the ambushers in the mist? Risk the grinding slow of the army? Or accept the losses and the fire, the men dropping with fetching in skull or neck, their bodies trampled by comrades to push forward into the clear cliffs were such tactics would fail? That was to the commanders, but those commanders would have to be careful. Arrows would seek them the instant they made themselves known, attempts to kill the command as fast as possible.
Ranok || The Mist Dragon was semi incorporeal, the effects of Remton's biting and claws unheeded. Mist bleed from it, but it would need to be broken in a different way then claw and tooth. This tactic went unheeded by Remton, who insisted on tiring herself out. The Mist Dragon was not invincible, but that did not mean it was a mere push over. To the death it would fight for its land and sky. But that death did not come today.
Remton had seemingly had enough, worn and tired, to withdraw back to wherever she came. The Mist Dragon roars in delight and triumph, issuing forth spurts of frozen mist to all that would see. Then it would return home to nurse its wounds, secure that its territory was safe for today.
Ordox 's troops withdraw as overhead a carrion flew, taking note of the troops which had speedily developed on this side of the island. As if controlled by some sort of mental telepathy, a new plan emerges and the siege retreats. With this entrance covered by the massive army, surely it would take more time for them to all reassemble on the other entrance to the city.
Marigold Bridge
A small curved bridge reaches over a tiny clear water stream that creates a natural border between the port town of Rynvale and the great wilderness beyond. Standing on either side are two handsome Rynvale Guardsmen in splendid silver armor and red cap dress uniforms each holding a sparkling golden halberd. They appear more for show as Rynvale has not seen trouble from inland for many a year. North of the bridge lays a vast wilderness dry and unwelcoming but capable of supporting life.
-After a few hours pass by the drumming resumes, this time from the other side of the island entrance, scouts calling ahead of a massive force of troops approaching. The drum beat of war has changed it's plan of attack, hurrying through to the other side, preparing to barge into the city*"
-The Eyrie has taken to the sky, in response to the wraith that had been promise to stalk the clouds. Instead, they spot the forces moving through the Gamorg pass, prompting a swift shift of defense. While the armies had to go in a loop, the defending forces merely move through the city to shift stance.*"
Ordox allows the army to proceed onward into combat ahead, marching their way onto the bridge, volleys of arrows from archers in the background lead their assault, blanketing the sky ahead and aiming to pierce whatever guards' armor and sink into their flesh. Following this arial gambit are the armored ogres and goblins, holding weapons and shields overhead to protect against any potential retaliation. The drum beat continues...
Hanan - Meanwhile, across the island, Hanan watched anxiously. She'd been on the roof of her new little beachhouse, the one Jolie had deeded her before leaving for who-knows-where, barefoot and gazing out to sea with a spyglass. And occasionally down the path too. She was expecting Lita home at some point. Unfortunately said beachouse was a straight shot as the crow flies to Gamorg, and she'd have had to been blind to miss dragons fighting. Dragons! She'd fallen flat to her stomach on that roof--even Vampires weren't much good against gods damned dragons, and she'd rather not have her roof burned--gazing over the peak as they clashed. Then, the sound of distant drums. "Shyte." Lita was still in town... which she soon saw arrows arcing over. "Shyte!"
Ranok || Time had been afforded to the brave men of Rynvale. They did not have to muck twice through a forest, through paths wrought with danger, and then march through plains. A sizeable force sits on the Marigold Bridge, armor gleaming and weapons ready. These men were entirely of The Fold. The outpost was a mere hour away at the longest. Rynvales Armies sat to the south, still watching for any approach through the Fog Forest. Ranok stands at the head of The Fold's troops. He was smiling. As Ordox's armies move in, he does not order a charge, nor a stand. The man waits. Clear in view. Of course, such stupidity was not Ranok's style. The image of him was an illusion. Bait, to draw someone closer into long bow range. Someone to take the crack at the illusionary leader, and shortly be pelted by arrows in a very stalwart rejection of such a move. Men scurry along the sides of the bridge, carrying munitions by the arm loads. That was in the event of the failure here. Should The Fold be forced to retreat, the bridge would be blown sky high, removing the only way into the city that can be easily accessed. The river would have to be forded if it were gone, the cliffs to the east too treacherous and the skies full of dragons hungry for meals. Overhead, the Eyrie's wings fly, compromised of small griffons and frost dragons. As Ordox makes his confirmation of his intent, The Fold raises shields to weather the assualt, spears lowering to hold. They just needed time, and time could be bought before the ticking time bomb beneath the bride was set off to strange the army marching on the city.
Ordox allows his troops to move forward, arrows seemingly passing by the approach, having no effect whatsoever. Could it be...Yes! Also an illusion. The plan worked perfectly. As said troops retreated but briefly out of view of what troops were organized, seeing as the scouts retreated to take up arms with those combatants, assisted by the visual shrowd caused by the mist dragon, they were able to keep from out of view from the other Eyrie. The carrion above holding a portion of Ordox's body alerted said troops when it was ready to proceed once more, creeping quietly until they were able to make their way out of the forrest and proceed at a normal pace toward their original intent of entering from the south. Finally calls reach the Fold troops at the northern gate as well as Rynvalian troops that the scouts posted at Ocean Side Path had spotted the army deftly approaching and calling them back to their original defenses of guarding the south. By the time they make it there, the troops would most certainly have reached the city. If the troops remained, they might continue to destroy the bridge, though it mattered little now. The drums were once more coming from the south.
Remton roars a loud, ear splitting roar, and above, the clouds roll in, in colors of purple and red, and even a glowing black. Rain starts to fall from them as Ramton flies through the sky. Behind her the rain falls, and when it hits the ground, person or creature, it burns and sizzles at their flesh, dirt and armor. Even the grass and the leaves on the tree are eaten away by the acidic rain. Remton hoovers some and then flies higher into the sky, the acidic rain disturbing her not. She is immune to it, since she created it, tainting the water that falls from the sky.
Ranok || The Mist Dragon is too far away to hear Remton, and would not venture to the city even if it could. Unfortunately, that roar draws the attention of the Eyrie fliers, wheeling them about to spot the wraith in the sky. Remton has much to learn about subtlety. That roar brings them over the skies faster then any order could have, which was trickling through the command structure as it happened.
Fish Market
The pungent aroma of tobacco and sea life is overwhelming as you approach the market. Fishermen spill their catch into crates and troughs filled with ice, stabbing scaly bodies through hooks to hang them on display above. Dozens of these wooden stalls are aligned smartly side by side, but only a few remain well stocked and in business. Over time, this area has become a stomping ground where grizzled sailors and battle-scarred vagabonds reminisce, and a few of those bearded old-timers squint dubiously your way while smoking their carved pipes by sun or lantern light.
-From the distance a rumbling can be heard. A steady pounding of heavy footfalls begins sending slight tremors through the earth. The gulls and other birds scatter from the trees as the beat continues; an ominous drumming of the inevitable force approaching. "Twang!" The first barely audible noise of a bowstring's recoil signals the beginning, as a solitary arrow dives in, somehow managing to find the neck of an unaware and supremely unlucky citizen passing by. Even though the warning bell was sounded and the troops were already gathering on Rynvale's side in preparation, of course there were those citizens who chose to ignore the warning and continued to look for good deals on the main market district. This bargain-hunter falls to the ground accompanied by a fountain of gushing blood. The remaining crowds in the street erupt in terror at the sight, fleeing in all directions from this unseen projectile perhaps some even pushing through the guards who are setting up, disrupting their formation. Cries of fear and chaos are only magnified by the volley of arrows that follow, some arcing on a path to reach flesh and down another citizen, others are able to take a blow but still escape while the swiftest to react manage to make it out unharmed. The roar of a battle cry from what appears to be the general of the remaining oncoming ogres and goblins initiate the infantry's charge. Those creatures of Gamorg who had fallen under the control of Archmosia were now pawns in the battle for Rynvale. Torches are being carried, their final destination is to be thrown into any buildings and fortifications the city may have made. This conquest would only be the first battle leading up to war, the plan of razing as much as possible and weakening forces is the mission. Following the gambit assault of warrior ogres and goblins, each wearing their own set of hastily crafted and rather penetrable looking armor and wielding all sorts of weaponry from swords, spears and crossbows to as primitive as boards of wood with rusty nails penetrating them, are an army of mangled, maggot-infested bodies. Could it be that the undead have also joined forces with the Time Lord in his quest for the destruction and annexing of Rynvale? As they gingerly approach in more of a hurried shuffled fashion than an all out run, a marksman with impeccable vision and observation skills may be able to discern thin coils of pale wire which has permeated the muscles and bones, wrapping around the bodies of these corpses and reanimating them into a manifest army. Though only a few may hold the weapons they were felled with, these forces are clearly there with only one purpose; occupy as many opposing forces as possible to let others do the real damage. The waves upon waves of these hundreds of cavalry units may seem daunting enough, though even after this, from the viewpoint of the guarding Rynvale troops, they might see tiny masses creeping and scurrying between and around marching feet. Rats which have been feeding upon the former limp corpses in the bone pit seem to have been altered after consuming tainted fiend blood; their eyes flashing red after their corruption as they follow, their mission was made clear as well - Any forces who have fallen, infect them with the taint of a wraith. Though it would not transfer the wraith virus to the bite victims, upon transfer of bodily fluids, it would infect them with a powerful disease that might do so much as to keep them incapacitated for weeks from weakness and pain. Ordox, though, throughout this chaos is not visible. Though he may be the puppet master of the reanimated zombies, unseen to all, the remaining portion of his body flies upon high on the wings of a wraith-infected carrion. The bird's goal is to, fittingly, keep a birds eye view on the scene, sure to stay out of harms way. On the march to the village the goal of the invasion is clear, destroy as much as possible and decimate any forces that may prove threat to the oncoming war.
Tanya stays in the shadows secretly watching the events unfold. She is ready to attack if the need shall arise. She had sworn to assist the time lord in any of the endvors that he is doing.
Remton laughs as the acid rain eats through the Eyries wings, accompanied with her jets and streams of inky acid. Red, pupiless eyes gaze at the troops below as she flies around keeping an eye on her side of things. But she still kept an eye on the forces in the sky.
Marcellus sees quite a large gathering here. Naturally curious, he asks, "What am I missing? Is this a provate party, or may I join? I have plenty of ale to go around." Apparently, the priest thinks any gathering is a reason to have a few drink. Kasyr is just waiting for an arrow to plunk right through Marcellus' drink. >> Remton plunks an arrow through MArcellus' drink. Yep. Marcellus takes note of the arrow, and decides he is unwelcome. "Well, you may keep the ale, my friends. I just remembered I have something to do..." as he beats a hasty retreat. Marcellus exits north.
Ranok || Those that fell in the market were the stupid, the slow, or the unaware. As the army marched through the Fog Forest, the guards and the military had cleared the area of as many civilians as they could. Such sadness, that some would not believe the soldiers. Those that did not flee but were able to were sure as hell fleeing now. In the meantime, those hours were spent as wisely as possible. Stalls were flipped over, creating lanes of artificial make. Frozen fish was everywhere, the merchants unable to recover their goods. To the west, there was ocean. To the east was cliffs. There was only one way in, and it was choke full of soldiers. Those wooden stalls made effective barriers to weather the onslaught of arrows. A counter rainfall of arrows is thrown into the air to meet the forces. Undead or not, an arrow in the skull rekills you, and the undead were likely too stupid to realize they were being fired upon until they were feathered with wood. Rynvalian forces would yell or moan as an arrow finds flesh, but the storm would be weathered. Shields, the stalls, and armor all sought to protect those men's lives. As the living enemies made their way to the waiting defenses, it became clear what the strategy was. The stalls blocked advancement, forcing them to be climbed over. Men with spears were ready to stab those that tried. There were holes in the structure, not even enough stalls to plug it all. But, three monstrosities of metal sat, lights glittering on them. The Doorknockers that Ranok had handy. They would not move unless forced to do so, as they served as functional walls to anything that came within the distance of their broad sweeps of the swords attached to one arm, and the clubbing metal of the other. The wise would stay the hell away. The stupid would throw themselves at the machines until they ran out of power, things to kill, or room to move from bodies. They weren't invincible, either, the men inside the real weakess. But the armored cockpit was there to protect, and swarm tactics likely the only way one would be brought down. It was luck that they were there. When the army withdrew, it had been considered to withdraw them to the north to plug the bridge instead, but their slow movement and heavy step bogged the choice until Ordox's army reappeared. As the enemy charged, the Rynvale soldiers bellowed defiance to protect their homeland. Firebombs lob out from the cover of the stalls, to deal with the rats, forcing the things to be covered in alchemial fire in order to function. In hindsight, the wisdom of making fire rats could be questioned, but their small frames would not be able to withstand the burning patches for long. In a twist of hilarity, too, the ice and fish that were the life blood of the very merchant's who's lives are now ruined by the battle taking place served to protect. Torches thrown from Ordox's army would find wood here and there to burn, but the entire area was covered in fish stink, melting ice, and semi frozen this and that. A large number of torches would fizzle and spit in these patches of water, though the few that make their mark on the stall wall produce a very hectic yelling and fish flying through the air from the opposite side to put out the flames. Through the fire and the flames, both sides would have to fight. Ordox's through patches of fire that burn with chemical fury, thrown out of the reach of the melting puddles, though some weren't so far, and the Rynvale troops through the burning smoke of the stalls that provide defense. The charge of Vuryal's minions to be met with spear, metal, and mettle, it only remained to see how far this would go before something broke.
Dami had been dropped in low amidst the chaos and confusion of Ordox' feint. Like a special tactics operation, the Terramancer stealthily worked deeper into the bowels of the cities sewer system with those close few behind. Kasyr, Markos, and an extremely irate little girl that Dami was still uncomfortable with- towed silently in her wake. Arms swung out wide and thrust inward, wild and noticeable tremors rippling along the surface above. The series of tremors would continue, easily masked by the siege equipment above. The task at hand was proving to be a great exercise for the Terramancer's rusty forte. Expanding, and widening the tunnel, she worked those earth-bending skills with precision and haste.
Tanya moves through the shadows still keeping an eye on what is unfolding. Kneeling down she waits for the right time. The vampriss flips the dagger she is holding through her fingers.
Ranok || Up in the sky, the acid rain would prove painful, but not debilitating. The riders were clad in thick leather to protect against both the chill of the air in the sky and the frosty breath of their own mounts. This served to hold as a stop gap against the acid that eroded. The dragons were protected by scale and evolution, their eyes with the nictating membrane that protected against claw and air alike. Both man and dragon were worn by the acid, but they had an advantage Remton did not: sheer numbers. The griffons peel away from the conflict with Remton, their mounts less suitable to attack. Instead, they opt to heckle the ground forces with arrow and bomb alike. Sweeping runs that result in an explosion are the name of the game for the fleet winged griffons. Anyone and anything were a target, though the commanding forces and living were made the top of the list. Higher in the sky, the dragons divide into groups of five or so, of the fifty present. The others peel off to wheel around, conserving energy, scouting, and keeping an eye on things. The five pairs of dragon and men go after Remton, using their more fleet mounts to fly around Remton, belting off pelts of ice breath. Remton can strike back at any she chooses, but she would be overwhelmed at every time. Each strike would result in any of the other four taking the opportunity to strike, with talon, tooth, or breath. When one is injured or had enough of the acid wearing at them, they would withdraw, to signal in a new dragon pair. Remton had her fight with Mist Dragon, serving to weaken, and she would now have to contend with a constant swarm of fresh fliers to worry at her and drive her to ground and finish her off.
Markos was in a bit of a foul mood at this point, having been forced into conflict by his sire and put on a rather bothersome timeframe to boot. He had no taste for war and most of his research had been for improving life rather than taking it though that was not to say that he did not have lethal runes aplenty tucked away into his arsenal of powerful knowledge. And that was precisely what he had been called in to do, much to his chagrin over the entire affair - made to follow after Dami as she did what she did best so that he could do way he did best, lay down some major runic firepower. They would be sloppy and that bothered Markos but sloppy was not the same as useless, only less effective. But less effective could often be countered with numbers and that is exactly what Markos intended to do, lay down an excessive number of runes to counteract the problem of having to sloppily etch each rune into the stone wall that was his working surface with little more than a hammer and a chisel. The rune itself was simple enough, simple explosive runes engraved in tandem with a simple fire rune just to make things a wee bit more hot for those that fell victim to the trap that he and Dami and Kasyr behind him were now laying out. But simplicity did not mean that it was not grueling labor to lay each rune into the wall every few feet or so nor was it a simple task to make sure that all the proper symbols were in place to link each rune to a single rune that would trigger the entire damn event and with every passing minute, Markos was reminding himself constantly that he fully intended to weedle some coin out of Kasyr for this endeavor that the revenant cooked up.
Remton saw the frost dragons, but she didn't fear them. Being a water dragon before she was turned, she is strong against ice and the cold and it is nothing to her. The ice melts as soon as it hits her fiery body. She doesn't waste her energy, but flies around and faster than the mounted dragons, knowing she didn't have extra weight to carry. Being a wraith, she was lighter than before and she vanish and reappear on the other side of the dragon force. That to is another thing the wraiths can do, can go nearly invisible to surprise their foes. Remton does just that to two of the frost dragons, biting their necks to wound them badly. A few of the griffons she goes after, eating them and their riders as well. This is a piece of cake for her and she is a dragon wraith, she has plenty of energy to burn.
Ranok || The riders of the unfortunate dragons who's mounts were injured are forced to withdraw. On the upside, tooth and claw would bite into Remton's hide and wings, to spill blood. Her wraithen blood did nothing to the claws of the dragons, as they were not anything but talon and scale down there. Every strike Remton issues forth is taken out of her in blood and bite. Fatigue factored none of this, as no matter how big and bad you were, you could only bite one thing at a time. When she latched onto those necks, the others would latch onto her. As for the griffons, they were too fleet to be caught. They could swoop and dive faster then Remton ever could, to dodge those talons and teeth. Remton seems unaware of the forces against her. The most skilled fighter in the world would be taken down by swarm tactics. As apparently tireless as she is or not, she has but one mouth, and but two eyes. There were five pairs against her, and five intelligent beings seeking to rip her from the sky, each trained with the other. So the pairs that were hurt withdrew to be tended to before the wounds became fatal, and new dragons swung in to harry Remton some more. Every injury she would inflict would surely result in one of her own, and she had but only so much blood.
Kasyr grimaces, the empaths current task mostly consisting of massaging at his temples if only due to the excessive amount of emotional resonance currently in the air. It was this resonance that had, in fact, betrayed Ordoxs' feint for the Kensai, and allowed him to persevere in his preperations. For the most part, however, it simply serves as an unnecessary headache. On the bright side, the clamour overhead had signalled that things were, at last, fully underway. "Once you've finished your preperations, pull back, et keep an eye on things- should the opportunity present itself to trigger everything, well, you know what to do. Et Dami, don't forget the second part of the plan." The Kensai, during this time, simply begins to slip out of his trenchcoat, the garment casually folded up and stuffed into his backpack, "Markos. Keep an eye on her. Et..you. Keep calm- Please. It'll pay off, je vous promets. I promise, even." The young-looking girl, an elf by all appearances, merely affixed an irritated look upon the Revenant- something quite akin to conceit and anger flashing within the depths of her reddish-purple eyes. With a growl that belies her small frame, the 'elf's' simple, conceited response is, "I'll do my part, Gnat. Just try not to die- before I get to you." Turning away in a sweep of long black hair, she simply tags after the other two. Hence sorted, the Kensai simply plucks a pair of vials out from his backpack, and abruptly staggers forward. As those myriad times before, a prominent pair of protrusions begins to form along the Kensais back- a swell of flesh that swiftly grows all the more grotesque when bone and muscle shear through flesh in a visceral explosion of Gore. In the wake of this particular act rests a pair of leathery wings, the likes of which the Kensai promptly abuses to get begin heading out of the sewer. To be precise- his flight path is going to take him out behind the safety of Ranoks lines- and effectively straight up. Whether or not Remton notices the solitary figure ascending straight up, busy as she is, is another matter entirely.
Ordox observed from on high as some sort of director of the massive play. The ogres and goblins who were willing to fight were the definition of expendable. He kept notice in disgust as the idiotic warriors charged head-long into certain doom, allowing the spears to easily pierce their flimsy protection and send them crashing to the ground in front of the barriers. It the pile soon became somewhat of a wall to keep the spears from advancing through the holes and serve as protection for others to climb over, only to be taken out by the Doorknockers who are waiting just beyond. Yet another slaughter of the pawns. The Rynvalian archers arrows, at the same time, do meet true, embedding themselves easily into the rotted flesh of those walking corpses, though they seem to have no effect. They continue their stumbling chase to their goal; breaking through the defenses. Ordox's flesh has been stretched thinly, though kept safe within their bodies, able to keep their strangle hold over muscles and bones in order to direct their movements. They would not go down lest the Shifter's body within them also succumb. The wraithified rats which have caught fire now from those bombs (those which were not directly hit and caused to explode) continue their mass influx toward the makeshift barrier, now providing a more dangerous assault at an accelerated pace. They are quick to climb up and over the wall of dead, itching to dive over the wall and gnaw through whatever leg armor was protecting Ranok's soldiers and sink their razored fangs into soft flesh. At this point, a bit of luck manages to come by the invading troops way. Underneath, Dami's teramancy magic does indeed cause the tremors, which are enough to knock a few dozen of the puppet corpses off balance, but more importantly those wild quakes act more in favor of the siege. The amount of weight held behind the barrier from the huddled troops and immense poundage of those massive Doorknockers causes the earth from beneath them to crumble, sinking down into the very sewers from which the initial earthquakes originated. Were Ranok's troops not quick to leap out of the area and retreat deeper into the city, they would fall into the newly created pit…and as the acid rain continued to deluge from above, said pit would quickly become an acidic pool of death, and no matter how much armor they wore or metal surrounded them, it would take but only a moment for the liquid to pervade their protection and eat through their entire body. With this new choice of holding their ground and plunging to certain disintegration or retreating to continue the fight, it is clear what option is most likely for the Rynvalian and Fold troops to make…The drumbeat continues, pressing onward toward the hopefully vacating holding ground. Should the troops leave, the barrier would be knocked over and used as a bridge to the other side, continuing their raze of the city and those rats which had made it to the other side cling to the walls, with their claws, using it as a way to traverse the current crevice.
Remton snarled, but as her blood dripped from her body, it wasn't red or like that of normal dragons, nor was it like the wraiths. Her blood was acidic and did the same the scid rain did. It burnt through flesh and armor, including leather, unless it as enchanted. Again, Remton roared again and pitch blackness fell upon the sky, no lights could penetrate this, and Remton went into her wraith mode and used her almost silent body to fly around, attacking a few more frost dragons, even biting the tail off the end of one and eating it. The red feather like mane that runs from her between her two horns to her blade like tail are not feathers, but clusters of spines. A few dragons tried to take a bite out of her tail and her neck, only ot recoil back from their mouths bloodied from the red mane. She dives down again and manovers through the trees with speed the other dragon's could not match. Blood dripped from her arms and legs and even the bridge of her nose, blinding her some. She moves to the ground and roars to the others, calling for those frost dragons to dare come down and fight on the ground with her.
Tanya growls slightly as she keeps her gaze focused on Kasyr. Not wanting to move from her place till the time is right.
Dami didn't break her focus and attention from the Revenant's orders, a basic nod answer enough. The same went double for Markos, and the little girl, their presence just nullified enough so that she could keep a clear head. A task of this magnitude took a lot from her; concentration, precision, focus and will. Should she slip up just the slightest, their advancing tunnel could be halted. For now though, she strains to feel the ties of the earth, ethereal chains strummed and gripped with her mind, getting a feel for the battlefield. They were close.
Markos was trying as best as he could manage to level out his emotions, especially since he did not want to slip into a fury so deep that it trigger his own runes and send him berserking through these tunnels that Dami had made - especially since he was now apparently supposed to be watching her back and all of that. But these annoyances were part of the price that he had to pay to help spare himself from the horrible death that threatened him constantly due to those runes etched into his very bone, so he would stomach this situation as best as he could by that virtue alone. He would not speak or do anything other than focus on his task of watching Dami for any hint that the tunnel had come to an end while he laid down rune after rune. It was meticulous and it was painstaking but part of Markos loved it even if only because runes such as these were his life's work.
Ranok || The fliers roar in success. Any creature of flight that was grounded was all but helpless. The frost dragons regroup again, the injured wheeling off once more. They had grounded the hawk, now to kill it. From Remton's position on the ground, she would have to endure pelts of frost breath, again, and again, and again. No matter how resistant to it she was, it would be painful. Ice buildup, from the sheer amount, would begin to work around Remton. As she was grounded, she couldn't do anything but crane her neck and loose more acidic breath, causing the onslaught to peel off for a moment, then renew. The fliers were heckling Remton, taunting, insulting. Jeering at the grounded beast. But, then an order trickles through. Kasyr's presence had been noticed. Despite their standing orders from the commanders on the ground, Kas' want to attack Remton was well known. So, they would halt the attack, leaving Remton covered in ice from sheer repeated attacks. Whether she would break free in time before Kasyr arrived to kick ass sorts of wraith ass remained to be seen. Instead, the dragons began to attack the ground forces with breath and claw, running long sweeps with talons dangling to rake unfortunate souls into them and rend them in two. The living snagged would be bitten in half and flung around. The undead were simply torn in half. It was a dangerous tactic, the sweeping, but Ordox's forces have made no indication that they were prepared for such attacks. Troops would be frozen into blocks of ice and frozen limbs, no amount of persuasion or coaxing to bring forth movement from those halted limbs. On the lines, men died and fought on each side alike. The Rynvale troops were fighting for their home, their lives, and the lives of their families. That made them fight like hellfire brought to life, men performing acts of bravery more times then would be recorded by the night's end. Here a man, mortally wounded, would carry a crate of firebombs into the lines of the enemy to blow them into gouts of fire. There, men would drag others to safety to leap into the fray again. When the ground itself opened up, men slid into it to their deaths, while others crawled out or leapt away in time. One Doorknocker would groan into the pit, its lower limbs bathed. Machine would become stuck, the sides too crumbing to climb out. But that did not mean it was out of the fight. Fists slam the ground before it, to level the ground in front to create itself a ramp. The rain fell above, yes, but such collection that would stop the rampaging thing of metal would take more. The thing drunkenly slams and thrashes its way out of the pit. That would take time, and it could be brought low by sheer weight of the troops behind it. The lines were buckling here and there, holding strong in other places. What rats got through the firebombs were dealt with as best as could be, with knife, boot, and fist. Ranok finally makes his presence known, albeit indirectly. Gouts of flame issue forth from a wavering in the air as he uses his ring of fire crafted by Nirrien. His frame was draped in the craft of Kattanos, bending light around him to make him dull in view. The vambrace of the wind, powered by the sheer pressing mass of life of the men around him and Ranok's own mana sources, throws out ripping peels of wind that tear rats from the ground. His sword was in hand, the twice blessed blade swung at any undead his way. The man's perch was on top of one of his own Doorknockers, the position perfect for a clear view. The duster that bends the light was his only protection from marksmen, save the armor about his frame. A visor that was featureless hung on his face, covering his expression. Arrows that somehow pick him out of the fray would be halted by the armor, or if he was unlucky, pierce it. But he was not ordering men to die without risking death himself. As the pressing lines of Ordox's army issue forth, Ranok's lines bend backwards, giving ground. The useless stalls for defense are abandoned, the Doorknockers tromping backwards. The one stranded was left to its own devices, but it was still a threat. There wasn't much of a secondary fallback position, the entry into the rest of the city with a small line of carts to stall progression it. Only the sheer weight of men pressing backwards and giving ground would see why it would not be overrun.
Remton rolls her eyes and lifts off from the ground before the breath of ice gets to her. She lunges at the dragons whiping her thick blade like tail around and lashing out with her tainted claws. The acid rain still falls and the sky is still a pitch black, which Remton can see in very well. Holes are put in her wings and frost dragons scrape her sides and back, but that is all they do. Being dragons, they should know where the soft spots are and that is what Remton aims for. The few cuts and gashes she gets spews her acidic blood all over them and the ground as it splatters out. Those on the ground would feel her acid and would scream out from the pain of burning flesh. She roars out, calling forth a down pour of acid rain, something that none of the creatures could avoid.
Ranok || in Shopping Street* Kumorohyou runs through the area, placing several arcane explosives he had been saving from his research on the Chaos shards. He had gotten the message to mine the area quickly, and that's what he was going to do. The panther shouts for the guards to take defensive positions, ordering another defensive to set up a gauntlet to funnel enemy troops into their deathtrap. The guards were no soldiers, however, armed with chain and clubs, and if they were the only defense, the line would crumple. It remained to the retreating soldiers to reform the line to stand a chance of holding a second time.
Kasyr has been using the time Remtons spent rampaging to prepare, a veritable carnival of shadow beginning to emerge from the Revenants form. He is, after all, still on the verge of those ominous clouds that the dragon had created (singing in the rain was not a particular spectacle one engaged in when unnatural acids sizzled and scorched through the air). The Kensais arm is the first thing consumed by the caliginous energies called upon, a sanguine streaked darkness wrenching clear from the Hybrids form, if only to coil several times about the vampires arm and rapidly solidify into a wicked looking angular gauntlet. Even more particularily, those shadows about the Kensai seem to come alive- Kasyrs 'aura' as it were being pushed through Gospel, effectively turning into a mass of condensed darkness focused around the vampire. It's prepared as such that he abruptly peals forward towards Remton, a streak of darkness hurtling across the sky- the tenebrous 'clout' which clung to his form serving to effectively shield him from the detrimental downpour that the wraithen dragon had summoned into existance. Kasyrs' arrival just so happens during Remtons final furious assault upon those that had been formerly haranguing her- The vampire narrowly swerving out of the way of the caustic gout as the majority splatters against one of the dragons. Which, is about the point the cogs within the vampires brain start to turn. The poor frost dragon barely has time to contemplate the severity of the wounds before the kensai plows into it with every ounce of force and momentum he had generated- Something which is further enhanced by the augumentation to his already supernatural strength by this particular form of Gospel. From there, The Kensai simply clings onto the beasts wing with his one hand, before the gauntlet shifts into the guise of a Broadsword. A transformation that serves to herald the rapid appearance of twelve blackened cracks in the air- each one forming a twin to the blackened blade in Kasyrs grasp. A brutal elegance resides within their design, those obsidian blades each a mimick of Gospel in both form and properties- supernaturally durable and...blunt? But the kensai has not made a mistake, This much can be made certain when the 12 plunge down into the frost dragon and promptly send it plowing down towards Remton at an excessively accelerated rate. The swords, are, afterall supernaturally -dense-, killing the things they strike with by virtue of effectively crushing what they hit. What's further insult to injury is that the Kensai promptly ionizes a fist sized portion of his left arm- the electrical energy hence generated by this sacrifice promptly used to send himself crashing down into dear old (now deceased) Frostys back, so that its' now effectively being pushed by something generating the kinetic force of a Lightning bolt. Apparently, Kasyr intends for this attempt at pancaking Remton to be a smash hit.
Remton ignores the other dragons and flies off towards her empire, her masters empire where she is safe to regroup herself and gather more dragons and wraiths. But she keeps them there so the healers can work on her and heal her.
Kasyr isn't about to cry over spilt milk, broken eggs, or...a dead allied dragon, as it were. No, despite Remtons hasty departure from the incoming electrified Saurian cataclysm- the Kensai isn't sweating it. If only because the fist sized patch of flesh on his arm that had Ionized promptly expands outwards, flesh consumed by intense electrical energies and used to fuel the Revenants rather haphazard bit of last minute readjustments. Imbued with a celerity best left to lightning bolts, and the lasting time of a tavern whores fidelity, the Kensai surges over towards the fallen flying frost dragons side and slams into it- effectively sending it slamming into the ground at an angle so it will crash into Ordoxs army from the rear and, with any luck, crush some- while forcing others into an offkilter forward collapse.
Dami held her arms high above her head like an air traffic controller guiding a plane. This served best to keep the weight of the tunnel supported, and barely in tact. From the center of Rynvale, straight out to the wharf, Dami had done what the dwarfs of Craugh could only do in a few months; all in the time lapse of a few hours. It had taken its toll too, the woman's breath coming in deep huffs, pearls of sweat rolling down. She had stopped for two resaons; fatigue, and a mental tug barking out an unspoken order. "You feel that too?" A grungy voice yelled back to Markos, arms slowly dropping to her side- the earth with it. A few slow paced stumbles broke into a mild slow paced jog, all in the opposite direction of the tunnel end. "Run. Now." Offering a hand to the little girl should she take it or not, Dami would yank on the runeologist's sleeve, ushering him to ditch the last rune he'd been working on. The signal to blow the battlefield sky high was given, and they needed to clear out as fast as possible. While the pinned and cushioned-by-sword frost drake's momentum carried it to a literal bone-grinding halt, it would aid in the collapse of the tunnels weaken end. Sunk and lodged, it would be front row for the fireworks soon to come. "Faster!"
Kasyr pulls down his goggles, for no particular reason.
Dami already had hers on. Ranok thins his eyes on his perch atop the machine of his own make. Kas was spotted, and something felt off, "Vat de fook...?"
Ysmir has no goggles, and if she arrives icly, will apparently suffer for it :<
Ranok has but mere moments to realize how much fecal matter had gone about his waist without realizing.
Markos had not been fully paying attention to his surroundings and it was unlikely that he could ever manage to understand his surroundings quite as expertly as a terramancer could. But he was fully willing to take her advice and make for a hasty retreat from that tunnel as he certainly did not want to make this his new tomb, entrusting that intuition that came with being an earth mage. So he would indeed fall into a run and as he did, he would grip the rune that he had been carrying with him - the simple stone engraved with a rune that would trigger all the runes to begin going off in a mess of fiery splendor. "No time like the present, yeah?" He laughed, despite the situation that they found themselves stuck in, as he let his mana flow into that rune to activate its magic. Now all they had to do was outrun that blast. Easy, right?
Ordox - The combination of the two attacks was not nearly as 'bang-bang' as the Shifter's foes may have hoped it would be. Kasyr's sudden redirection of his strike via Remton's flight turned out to be a blessing indeed, as it threw off the cooperative styling of the explosive strike. Just before the fireworks began, the skidding carcass of what was once a fierce foe flings to the rescue. Due to it's size and weight, on it's path of dragging destruction, it manages to force all of the puppet bodies as well as ogre, goblin and Rynvale troops alike into the small opening leading to the Shopping District. The barrier that once stood proud and tall in refusal of allowing the Shifter's troops to advance is easily battered down, catching the sides of the walls at such an angle that those bodies that manage to make it to the opening are flung into the air, 'safely' though coming to a brutal fall on the other end. The puppet bodies are left mangled, limbs ripped off and some left as useless torsos following the crash landing, though creating somewhat of a cushion for those other dead but functional bodies to land, leaving them more than adequate for a new body. The weight and force of the dragon was too much for the barrier-ramp to manage and it easily collapses into the gap after shuttling those corpses to the other side and crashing down into the created ravine. It is only gone from sight for barely a moment, though, as a massive pillar of flame immediately remerges, blasting what remains of the partially incinerated creature sky-high, riding the waves of fires that erupt. The runes of the tunnel must have halted there (as I understand from what I'm told) as to the south the entire road explodes, sending rocks, smelly fish, whatever corpses that remained blasting off in all directions and bringing the Fish Market itself to complete destruction, allowing it to crumble to the sewers below where it will first be engulfed with flames and then washed away by the acidic-tainted flood which will come to drown out the flames and wash the debris away. On the other side of the gap the tiny masses of Ordox's body untangle themselves from their former homes around the sinewy tissues and bones, allowing the corpses to return to their lifeless state. Leaping out, as if possessing their own will, they crawl away hungrily, desperate to find new shelter. The squirming blobs are not picky, rather they need only find a dead body which has enough limbs to act as a soldier to reanimate and return to the battlefield. The surge was almost complete…One more section of the city being destroyed would probably be more than enough to conclude an exceptionally successful mission and earn great kudos from the Time Lord. There were plenty of options available as those portions of flesh which had formerly inhabited useless/limbless bodies were abandoned and instead exchanged for less damaged merchandise. Crawling through the mass of 'humanity' they hurriedly and hungrily seek to wriggle through open wounds created from the acid rain and thin themselves out into tiny wires which hastily wrap around new, healthy muscle and bone. The new bodies they have inherited vary; dead goblins, skewered ogres, and even the downed troops of Rynvale and the Fold. It was truly a smorgasbord for the rouge blobs of Ordox to parasite off of in service of The Parasite. Those troops waiting just ahead of the area in the Shopping District may be alarmed as they bear witness to corpses of enemies they had just killed as well as friends they had witnessed dying are propelled into motion once more. A new platoon of enemies marches on…as well as the drumbeat. It continues after abducting new flesh. The drums, though severely dwindled, march on.
Hanan - At the outskirts of the pandemonium, her old boarding axe in one hand, her long coat left at home, standing in the stirrups, Hanan frantically searched the devestation for a familiar face. She'd never pick out Lita's scent over the stench of death about the place. What if she'd been caught in it? Even the vampire's nose wasn't that good. "Shyte," she said, and "Shyte!" again. This whole quarter of town appeared ruined. Who'd done this? She'd only needed one look at the undead to tell. Vuryal. Rutting. Vuryal. It had to be. Jolie was never this bored. "Shyte!" Eloquent under stress. Hanan is on an old grey horse, by the way.
Ranok || As the ground begins to rumble and grumble, Ranok pales a little, under that helmet of his. Given the collapsed nature of the market from which broke their very lines, he could guess what was about to happen. He shouts at his men, "GO! GO! Full retreat! Run if hyu vant to live, hyu sons of bitches!" The soldiers abandoned their fighting retreat to move into a full scale one. Pell mell, and thankfully, most of the way to the choke, his forces would trickle through, Ranok at the very back. His Doorknocker was swinging that sword to hold the rear, the man firing down gouts of flame from his ring, supplied by his own mana. Beside him was the other remaining machine, its pilot grimly holding the rear, too. Clanking, gears grinding, feet thudding. Incredible unsubtle, but all hell *was* breaking loose, after all. What injured had been drug out are tended to quickly with first aid, staunching wounds to prevent the rain from getting in. The men were tired, soaked, and worn down. But this was not the end. The Doorknockers, too, show signs of wear. Their joints give off a distinct creak as they lumber backwards. The poor wounded left in the field but still alive had little luck, it seemed, from the rumblings in the ground. As the dragon corpse sailed towards the battlefield, Ranok gives a strangled sort of "G'dammit!" and leaps onto the back of the Doorknocker he was using as a perch. The pilots in the machines weren't much better off. Each knuckles down to take the force of the corpses skidding. The incredible tonnage of the machines halted the movement of the flying corpses, combined with the efforts of the corpses already lying on the ground, the distances involved, the hole in the ground from where only now the stranded Doorknocker had escaped. The dragon was launched from the air downwards not outwards, so it would splat against the ground to crush the rear columns instead of rocket across the entire fish market. Instead, a macabre display of flying limbs, heads, and organs sails overhead. As for the choke, the only compression involved was the Rynvale troops fleeing for their lives, as the sheer logistics of the cartoonish physics of everyone in the entire fishmarket cramming through simply would not work. But, the dragon did send corpses absolutely flying through the air, to sail above the lines. Dead minions splat on Shopping Street messily. Those corpses are fell upon by the Rynvale Guard like some rather inappropriate racial joke that won't be uttered in this writing, effectively making sure that it *stays* dead. The Rynvale troops had only just made it, the explosion rocking the area further, making everything go to hell fairly neatly. Men would be rocked off their feet, the Doorknockers the only thing standing. Ranok himself was dazed, on the ground, groggily getting himself up. A quick survey of the battlefield pretty much claimed that the battle was done. The Fish Market only existed in memory, now. A ravine, a chasm, a yawning lack of earth, was now where there used to be hustle and bustle. The crack was so great that the very ocean strove to fill it, dumping thousands of gallons of water into the abyss. Anything that survived the explosion was surely soon to be drowned. The sheer force of water would forbid anyone attempting to claw their way out. It effectively nulled the need for a burial, as well, as the survivors were safely on 'not collapsed' ground. As dirt falls to plop into the swiftly filling ravine, a new inlet for the island of Rynvale, Ranok orders the men back further. The edge could collapse inwards more, if weight was applied. The men kept arms ready, in case any more nasty surprises cropped up. Any reanimated corpses that were on the side of Rynvale, not the Fog Forest, were mercilessly cut down and hacked apart to component limbs before they could do more then twitch.
Ranok takes a few moments to collect himself before putting his visor up, revealing a blood and sweat streaked face. He says, fairly bluntly, " Hokay, vat de FOOK vas dat."
Dami wasn't sure if the little girl was still with her or not, the threat of her own life at steak. The runes set off faster then an adventurers journey. Either way, Markos was smart enough to give them enough distance before the trigger was ignited, the ball of flame blowing upwards, and inwards a 'manageable' threat to dance with. At the light of the tunnels entrance, Dami threw her hand out and ribbed at the air before the rocks, caving in the tunnel, successfully 'plugging' up the hole. This only gave the blast more pressure to recoil back to the battlefield. Slowly, the terramancer would crawl out of the hole. Dirty, exhausted, and pissed. Silently she looked for Markos, who was running off deeper into town.
Lita had been down south again. Well she'd had to go to get Kahli back anyhow, so she figured it wouldn't be a completely wasted trip. But to come back only a couple of days later to find the city being blown to bits? Well, that was new. Sawyer had insisted on coming along. When they drew closer to the trouble- Rynvale's troops were fleeing, it seemed. Not that anyone would blame them. The dead that weren't on fire were apparently coming back to life. Sawyer drove the mare hard, Lita crouched in front of him, frantically scanning the crowds for a familiar face. When the wall of bodies grew too thick to pass on horseback, Sawyer drew back. "We have to get to the beach house!" Lita was yelling over the noise, turning slightly so Sawyer could hear. But then his arm was around her middle, hard as stone and keeping her still. And he whispered two words in her ear, soft and empty. "We can't." Lita couldn't fight him, could only stare at that mass of movement as Sawyer backed the mare further and further away. She clutched at his arm, nails in his skin, silently pleading, watching the horror, praying for something better than the worst. "Hanan!" She yelled into the crowd, still searching.
Kasyr isn't particularily about to take chances. If there's one thing that being 'drowned', strangled, and various others bits of 'asphyxiation' have taught him- it's that it makes an exceptionally ineffective manner through which to fell the undead. It's with this particular thought in mind that the Kensai begins to shudder, a distinctly noticeable scent of burnt ozone flooding the air as he starts to tap into the strength buried within his soul. Even as some entities within the flooded and caved in tunnel begin to make their attempts at clawing their way out (or simply wriggle in the prisons they may have found themselves in), the Revenant remains aloft in the air- focusing upon that strength buried within him. Ranok, should he remain, is likely going to find it difficult to mess the excessive amount of electricity beginning to accumulate around the former-tiefling. A brilliant flash of light effectively serves as the kick-off point to this particularily 'charged' coup de gras, the Kensais odious blades dissipating as a different weapon is brought for this particular task. Even as the Revenant begins to hurtle down towards the salt water filled trench, those secondary markings upon the vampires flesh spread out and consume his hands- twin vambraces forming, one aureate, one platinum...and both sparking. Kasyrs' impact into the trench waters is a violent affair- a column of water and shattered stone geysering upwards- even as the full extent of his magical reserves is effectively doused in that singular moment, even going so far as to shred through the barriers placed within him to release those portions of his soul were sealed. A transcendant amount of magical energy in itself, that is only made worse by the release of the spiritual energy he had acquired so long ago from consuming Eladamri, as well as the essence of both Talia and Dace. The end result is, effectively, the savaging of the shifters minions with the fury of a tempest unleashed. Which, simply leaves the Kensai in waters already stained crimson and growing all the more darker- as though all the blood in the area was converging around his position.
Hanan was still standing in her horse's stirrups, knuckles white on her axe's handle, eyes scanning the new body of water and the seething bodies she'd been wise enough to keep well away from. She wanted to cut a path through. She knew she could not. That made it all the harder when she heard Lita's voice cutting through the din, all the way over on the other side of the pandemonium. How she did she didn't know. There was a decent chance Lita and Sawyer didn't hear her shouting over--"KORI! GET TO THE SHIP! THE SHIP!"--and she knew this. It didn't stop her. She settled back down into the saddle and spurred her horse. It reared up on its hind legs, then burst forward. Through Ranok's retreating troops, over a pile of ruble, barely avoiding the fire that had started there. She'd try for a wide arc north, then east, clear of the new trench. She'd try to meet them. Some part of this gods forsaken town had to be intact.
Ordox, still hovering above the scene embedded in the carrion that was all but forgotten during the battle as finally put an end to his circling. Instead, now, it has become the time to leave, flying off to find somewhere safe to recover. Those corpses that had been launched into oblivion which were being occupied by portions of the flesh had been left to remain lifeless. The blobs of remaining healthy flesh finally depart for good, taking up the form of tiny insects and flying away, hopefully unnoticed by all until they disappear beyond the horizon. They would meet and begin piecing themselves back together, along with whatever other stray portions of the Shifter's body which was scattered about. Slowy, they would eventually rejoin and with some significant time healing, they would be prepared for action again.
Lita was still searching as Sawyer steered the mare away from the chaos, back toward the south, back the way they'd come. Lita was turning, trying to see over his shoulder. "We have to--" He cut her off with a hard look and nudged the mare forward. Kahli snorted but didn't argue. She was just as eager to leave the mess behind. "Sawyer, we have to get to the docks. Hanan's ship we'll be there and that's where she'll go." Sawyer stared straight ahead, ignoring her. His arm was still around her waist, keeping her still. "Sawyer!" She snapped. He grumbled and steered the mare up towards the east, towards the docks. "If you're wrong, we're both dead."
Ranok || The south part of the docks of the city are partially on fire. The huge explosion that had rocked the lower part of the city and split a new ravine into it had understandable had additional repercussions. Ranok's troops were not retreating, not at the moment. They were on the cusp of that ravine. The man looks over the edge, his visor still up on his head. He takes a moment to spit down into the waters pouring in, and then electrified. Kas' theatrics produce an "Uf kourse." From Ranok. Hands rub his face a moment, and he glances outwards. The burning fires spreading slowly. The men, tired, soaked, and beaten. Ranok wasn't feeling so hot, either. He hadn't been fighting on the ground, but the fire ring drained his mana, the vambrace doing the same. The duster about his shoulders dies as the battery finally gives out, slamming him back into full visibility. He gathers the men up, "A liddle further, gents." He gets to a makeshift command post established by the Guard and Kumo, grabbing a bottle to signal the fliers overhead. The dragons wheel a little more, and then descend upon the fires, breathing ice upon them to kill the heat and put them out. Damage to the buildings would be done from heat stress, but fire in a city was catastrophic. The ice would douse and kill the potential for additional destruction. Then, to the tending of the corpses. Most of them were in the ravine, buried in mud. Perhaps a memorial to be placed, detailing the men who's lives had been taken and left without proper burial. For the remains on the street, they were burned. Anyone who was still left enough to bury would be, the unidentified remains dumped into the mass grave. Then clean up would begin, the government finally stepping in to handle things. As for the men, they were allowed rest. New men were cycled in, to watch the bridge and the ravine both. Ranok had plans for that ravine, that functional little moat handed to him free of charge. He'd make use of it, in time.