RP:Festival of Frost Giants, Part 2

From HollowWiki

Part of the Thy Kingdom Come Arc

Started in Part 1.

Summary: A full-blown riot breaks out thanks to Balder. Hildegarde soon arrives on the scene, but her attempts to challenge Balgruuf to single combat are consistently interrupted. Many are killed or wounded in the ensuing battle, including Balder, who loses a few fingers and a hand. Balgruuf and his loyalists are routed, and Hildegarde wins the loyalty of a few giants.

Entrance to the Park, Xalious Village

Linn seemed to flinch at every word ‘X’ shouted out before trying to recall which way he had seen Emi(Lia) run off to. He was about to run off before Xzavior beat him to the punch on that subject. Keeping an eye on the naga and the odd man he turned back to Josleen and the crowd still around her. Pilar’s question brought the memories of his own dealings with empathic abilities through his mind. It happened only once, but man, no one expects odd vulnerabilities to play such a role. “She is okay right? It felt like I was thrown by whatever that guy did.” The high-ness would wear off, he knew that much. She could enjoy it while it lasted.

Lionel said, "Empires come and go, but dicks are forever."

Pilar blinked at Sabrina. What had crawled up her butt? She didn't make the connection that the elf had mistaken her grabbing her knife as an implied threat. This is quickly forgotten and she gasped in horror as the innocent hobbit is sent flying.

Josleen cringes, slowly, at Balder’s screech. As she watches the scene unfold, terror dawns on her face with a delayed deployment of half a second (thanks to Sabrina’s wonderful spell). Still, she is capable of knowing when she is in danger and she taps her shoulder beneath Kovl to get his attention. “We should go. This is going to get bad,” she says prophetically as Balder punts an innocent hobbit like a pigskin. Hege, always Team Balder, grabs the scalding pot of stew and stomps over to Kelovath. If he doesn’t move fast, she pours it over his head.

Kovl would laugh at the image of a hobbit being kicked yards away by an angered frost giant, but as tense as the pixie is, he is ready to spring to action. Kovl dashes in the air toward the hobbit and hastily buries his hand in one of the several pouches at his side. Sending a pulse of natural energy into the handful of pixie dust he grabs, the pixie flings it to the hobbit as he nears the halfling. If the dust connects, the hobbit would be gently lowered to the ground where Kovl would dispel the magic to let his feet touch the ground. Whether his attempt to save the halfling from a hard descent works or not, Kovl's attention turns to Balder to watch how this burst of anger unfolds. The pixie hopes Balgruuf receives what he deserves.

Xersom twisted upon Xzavior; recognition flashed in his gaze. His voice lowered, and the male was no longer shouting, but the anger he had was palpable -as was his desperation. "You. I gave you my trust. Now my children ask me where their mother is, my bed remains empty, and my love is somewhere I cannot see." He stepped in toward the naga, and it would seem that the cryomancer's demise was near, if not imminent, yet before a pointed index finger could prod and poke into the chest of the other male, before any dark magics -the likes of which Kaizer and Solaris both learned from- took hold, the calm and silken, sandy timbre of the high priestess cut through the blur of voices. The sensation of her hand on his scar-laden arm cut through his panic-stricken mind. The mask-wearing ancient looked over his shoulder toward the woman, to whisper -even maybe wordlessly mouth, at such a point, "Where is Emi?" His stare, glare, and anger returned toward Xzavior, "Tell me-" or more accurately, the more level-headed Leone, "what happened."

Sabrina ’s eyes follow Pilar’s attention, her eyes submerging into a deep emerald focus. It had begun. She thought of going after the wee hobbit but the odds of him surviving the landing would be slim to none. She looks to Josleen, begging the Lady to snap out of it, her touch should only linger moments after having been released but it would seem the nature of her breeding caused some unforeseen intolerance to it.

There was that grin of his again. Balder struck the first blow, and that was all the vampire needed. Electricity began to surge over his mithril arm, sparking and crackling into the air about him and sending innocents scattering from him. Slow, deliberate steps are taken forward, his posture erect, and his eyes fixated on that giant he hated above all others. More and more of the energy crackled to life about the elf, and not simply around his arm, anymore; he was a veritable walking lightning storm the way it arced and curled around his entire body. "Balder!" he cried out before an insane, blood-curdling laugh screeched through the air and all that pent up energy was released. It was a blinding ball of electricity, as wide across as the elf was tall, and surely there was collateral damage as it charged its way towards the son of Balgruuf.

Hildegarde seems to have arrived just a little too late to the scene. The hobbit had been punted away, Balder had kicked off what could only be described as a mini-riot and now there was a lot of chaos in one park. The knight had to struggle through a crowd of Xalious locals escaping the area, but once she was clear of the herd she could see exactly what they were running from. A blood-crazed vampire, giants who now looked suddenly tense and were ready to wreak havoc and worse still: Balgruuf and his vile son. “Balgruuf!” the knight roared at him, her halberd at the ready. “I challen-!” she is ready to challenge him to single combat, but his voice drowns her own out and none can hear her challenge; and if a challenge isn’t heard then no one can say there was ever a challenge to begin with. Such is the Frostmawian way. The large and older giant is suddenly roaring at his own son, “You impudent wretch! You’ll ruin our chance!” he means their chance to solidify his rule and his image as Frostmaw’s rightful king. Hildegarde is surging forward, giants be damned, she’s determined to make it towards Balgruuf and issue her challenge; to end the war in one duel and restore order. “It’s the dragon wench!” the armourer who spoke to Kelovath earlier cries out, running from his stall to swing his blacksmithing hammer down at her. The knight can do nothing but roll to the side and dodge the blow, hopping to her feet and preparing her halberd to do battle. “Step aside!” she commands, but knows he will do no such thing. She must fight him to get to Balder and Balgruuf.

Leone makes a social post so Xersom can leave, without waiting for combat rounds, and then will also post during her combat round. The petite plover nods slowly to the former General, a slow gesture that is focused precisely on the masked male. She is blocking out the cacophony that bubbles up around them, words spilling over into actions that splinter the crowd. "Your home," the bantam blacksmith dictates to Xersom, "I will meet you there as soon as I am finished here."

Kovl 's ears pick up a familiar voice among the chaos. Searching for the source of the sound, the pixie spys Hildegarde making her way to Balder and Balgruuf. "It's Hildegarde!" Kovl points her out to Josleen. Seeing her prowess in combat previously, Kovl knows she can handle herself. She knows better than to barrel into a group of usurpers without a plan. Right now, chaos is ensuing around him. The pixie senses the violence will lead to more violence. While normally Kovl would stick around, high among the rioters, using his spells to further the chaos, Josleen's safety is in his mind. "Come on," He whispers to Josleen. Kovl, flying high above the crowd guides Josleen through the optimal path of the riot. He picks paths through unarmed citizens and gives a wide berth to those wielding their weapons. A close eye on Josleen as they make their escape ensures her safety. The crowd thins toward the outermost parts of the 'festival', and the illusionist rests on Josleen's shoulder as she takes them farther down the path. "We're safe. Hildegarde will be fine."

Lionel never lowered his hand from Hellfire’s hilt, nor did he turn from Kasyr after that knowing glance. It’s all for the better, then, as chaos erupts all around them. The roars of giants pull him to a tense and sudden stance, wrist twisting slightly to withdraw a shimmering blade from its scabbard. It’s all he can do to leave that scabbard firmly planted beside Kelovath in a surefooted leap straight over the armourer’s table, knocking metal helter skelter. Nimbly he slides until he is just behind the man and his swinging hammer, who has made at least one pivotal mistake here tonight: never turn your back on a Catalian. “This one isn’t worth your time,” he cynically spits, although his free, gauntleted wrist is slamming down hard on the giant’s kneecap – it was a straight-ahead punch, Lionel’s chest to whatever should be about as high – and it doesn’t seem to do much but compel attention wayward of the Silver Dragon. “Wow,” the fallen hero can’t help but mumble. “I mean, I really hit you. That was a – you know what, now is not the time. I’ll concede it was a bad plan. I get it. You’re a big guy. Big guy like you? Big, strong kneecaps. All the same… I’m going to kill you” A twist of his head and a curt nod to Hilde. “Go!” With that, Hellfire is held in full grip, brilliant flames bursting to coat cold steel.

Xersom nodded slowly, "Very well."

Pilar pulled her dagger from its sheathe as the unrest grew worse, her hand trembling with fear. Hildegarde's entrance gave her hope, though it was quickly and thoroughly squashed by the giants' violent reaction. She wished to join the fray, to help her friends, but her legs wouldn't move. She was frozen in terror.

Kelovath 's attention was pulled away from the rude giant and the now ruined piece of armor he punched, because of X. He watched the man during his tempter-tantrum. But it wasn't until Balder freaking punted a hobbit until Kelovath finally snapped out of his little daze. Brown eyes shifted all over the crowd, completely unsure whether he should act or hold. It seems that instead of deciding on what would need to be done, the decision is made -for- the paladin. Seeing the large giant now storming toward him, Kelovath unsheathed his blessed blade from his side and began asking for the power needed for the upcoming fight. It didn't take long for Arkhen to grant the needed blessing and as Hege was more than close enough to dump the stew onto the armored paladin, a flash of light blasted out from the golden paladin, blinding those who were close enough, which would probably be quite a few. The pot of stew, unfortunately was then thrown into the sky, landing who knows where. Before the pot even had a chance to land, Kelovath followed up his blinding attack of light with grabbing the hilt of his sword with both hands, continuing his request for power, and rushing toward the woman-giant.

Kovl and Josleen make their way toward her home. When ensured the bard is safe, the pixie heads to the Mage's Tower to spread word of the happenings in Xalious.

Sabrina crouched down, watching a boiling mess of stew rise and fall, her view obstructed by the swarming heads of citizens both running and engaging in battle. She looks over to the insolent woman clutching a blade still by her as she ensures no one takes the path following Josleen’s escorted retreat. “Hey!” She yells at Pilar, trying to snap her out of her fear ridden coma long enough to get her to make a choice, run or engage. A scream is heard out over the crowd and the healer is gone from her side, rushing to an elderly human all wrinkly and riddled with fish parts. So, that is where it landed. She flicks debris away from the male, bending near his scalded face to ask him if he was okay. With no response she goes to work, running bare fingers along complaining and exposed flesh. The heal was quick enough, though her concentration is out among the crowd, searching for someone to come drag his limp body to safety when she is done.

Ranok is less interested in a throwdown with a multitude of giants. With no stake in the fight at hand between the frost giants and the silver, nor the scufflings between the armorer and Lionel. Actually, it was the hobbit, sailing through. While an impressive kick, the poor bastard was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Rather then unsheathing his weapon to draw blood, the left hand raises, fingers crackling with electricity. While it might feel overdone at this point, what with Kasyr and Ayras flailing their energies about, Ranok choose a more subtle and direct way to direct his own armor's powers. The pot of stew sailing through the air is halted, the cast iron grabbed by unseen forces. Ties of physical force, the demonstration of magnetic fields, amplified and directed by runes embedded in the armor to expand the possible utilization, are at play. Using his own weight as a counterbalance to the pot, it was tugged back down to earth in a straight line. A bit of a limitation of the application, really, but he'd stepped back. Iron thuds to the earth, and some other poor bystander was spared. "Alright. Back! Back! Get the civilians to safety." His focus was to prevent more bystanders being harmed. Feet plant and eyes cast. Any giants seeking to let too loose would be the next target - and Ranok wouldn't be so benign there.

Xzavior nodded his thanks to Leone for her assistance in calming the dragon but as soon as Balgruuf's name was uttered he turned to see who had called it and gave a fanged grin. Hilde was in and stirring up a bit of trouble while she was at it. No better time to cause a ruckus then now! Rohk perks up when he hears the Stewards voice, first very faint and then he was sure. He scratches off the damnable tie and barrels toward her at a speed matched to one from the seven hells. His obsidian scales already flicker to full flame as he manages to slide into a decent sized boulder that had been directed toward her rear knocking it off the intended trajectory so she may continue her path towards her ultimate goal. Those coming up from behind would be in his sights for a good fiery mauling, those he could reach, after all he was only one hound. Xzavior was following right up behind him and shouted his name letting him know that he had the naga's assistance and conjured up twin blade ice swords and rushing after Hilde. "Lets add a few more giants to that score of mine!"

Linn knew that once the hobbits got punted, things started going south. Had his helmet been completed by now he’d don it, but for now… actually, too many heavy blunt weapons to wear that torn-up gas mask. Just as he asked himself the questions about how lethally he could go about this, Ayras’s ball-lightning trick (and Hildegarde’s arrival) answered it with a “very.” For a second he decided to go straight for the heart and find his opening on Balgruuf, but being in the middle of an angry giant and an angry dragon is probably a bad idea. Best to let them duke it out. A quick survey to figure out the best weapon for the job; too many people that aren’t to be hit to just torch the place. Bloody route it is. Reaching behind his back he drew a keenly curved black knife from its sheath. The blade was maybe just over a foot in length, but that was all he planned on needing. Springing forward he seemed so slide along the ground as if skating on ice (Though there was no ice to be found forming under his feet), weaving his way into the crowd around Hildegarde to convolute, if not definitively end, the plans of anyone who thought to further hinder the steward’s charge. “Go get him” he evenly encouraged the mithril-armored dragon as he passed by into a protective position.

Leone is off and running as the gathered crowd begins to scatter, fleeing from the irate giants and the encroaching Hildegarde. The redhead is easy to spot above the fray, being as tall as she is, and it takes the diminutive cleric a mere few moments to wend her way through the oncoming fight to the Steward-come-Queen's side. The plover discards her cane somewhere along the way, hobbling as fast as she can and with a pronounced limp. "Hilde," the black-haired blacksmith's voice rings out in her trademark grit and gloss lilt, hopefully alerting the Silver to her presence. Nothing else is said as the holy woman begins her part of the battle, and blached hands, the attached wrists and arms woven with patches of livid red and snowy white. Blue luminosity seeps out from the farrier's wrists, wending and winding around her palms and each digit in turn as they reach for the charging Queen of Frostmaw to bestow blessings and wards upon the Regal Knight.

Laezila wasn't here because of any party, any situation or even the Steward's riot; she was here specifically because of a lost mad man and his insane laughter. In fact, she relatively had no idea that Hildegarde or everyone else would even be here, because she was solely fixated on tracking down the insane mind of the man that had, mentally, abandoned her. The drow followed him, as stealthily as she could, but all went to flames as soon as the riot started and Hildegarde was revealed, "Ayras!" She cried for the man, to regain his consciousness, to snap out of his insanity; she dodged one, then another Frost Giant in pursuit of the redhead.

Kasyr is quite happily wolfing through his apple when a crunch rings out with such bone crunching brutality, that it completely overshadows the sound of his own noisy chewing. The revenant's attention flicks almost immediately, a piece of his snack falling clear of his mouth as he catches wind of the hobbit's flight, and the source of his/her violent ascension. “...Merde.” More apple falls out of his mouth, as he takes in the sight of the enraged Balder and his complete loss of composure. “Allons-y.” What's left of the apple is crammed into his mouth, if only so he can tear out a large chunk, instincts already forcing his body into the beginnings of a mad dash. All at once, a second burst of electrical energy ripples through the area, as though called into being by Ayras' charge, this one taking the form of a cobweb of sparks which sears into existance around the Kensai as the thumb of his sheathe-bearing hand presses up beneath the hilt of one of the katana's at his hip. The apple is already in the process of being tossed over Kasyr's shoulder as he makes a quick survey of the carnival-turned-carnage, before his focus settles on Balder. And more particularily, on the brief way the crowd's swelling chaos has temporarily granted him a line of sight. “Cutting -” Those electrical energies condense around the revenant, his body seeming to blur and distort as he sweeps forward with lightning-borne alacrity, his thumb pushing his blade clear of his katana, even as his other hand settles around the grip, drawing the weapon clear in singular smooth cut that sends it arcing to rend through the heel of his chosen target, even as the revenant comes to an abrupt skidding halt nearby. The thrown apple hits the ground. “ - In.” There's a taste of blood in the revenants mouth, and the attempted press of his tongue is greeted with the tang of the air, flesh having ceded way to rapidly dissipating sparks. Simple enough tactic. Debilitate, and distract. Speaking of which, “Hey, Tons-Of-Fun.” This is so directed to Balder, “I'm the distractio-.” Ooof. Peripheral vision nor empathic senses provide the Kensai with an ounce of warning for when his -scarves- come under assault, a handful of them grasped amidst their current dramatic flutter and promptly used to drag him into an incoming fist, before those same scarves are tugged on to heft him off of his feet, over the giant and down into the ground. Something which reduces the revenants view of the world to a mess of red and black spots, the scent of the dirt and grass he finds himself abruptly pinned to, the crunching noise of his jaw reverbrating through his ears, and the way that the lack of feeling his face only seems to ensure there's extra emphasis being placed on the feeling of a boot being slammed into his spine. And they're still holding onto the damn scarves.

Pilar barely heard Sabrina's voice, and by the time she turned to look, the elf was gone. She was alone. Shaking violently, she backed up, away from the riot. Tears in her eyes, she sheathed her blade. She couldn't do this. This was nothing compared to what the battle to retake Frostmaw would be, and she was too scared to act. She was cowardly. Useless. Weak. No amount of training or fancy suit of armor would change that. Ashamed, Pilar turned to run away, only to plow into a giant. The man growled at her and backhanded her across the face. She may have been a vampire, and thus more durable than a mortal woman, but a giant's slap was nothing to sneeze at. She hit the ground, ears ringing, and lay in the dirt, too out of it to get back up. She could easily be trampled in the chaos.

Laezila , in the midst of her chase, without even seeing the Frost Giant, found her steps over the downed Pilar; the woman was instantly (or at least somewhat) recognized. The lithe little drow vampire crouched immediately, used both hands to grasp either shoulder of the other vampire in attempt to hoist her, unbeknownst that the Frost Giant was directly behind the former matron. "C'mon!"

Sabrina set her eyes on the wyvern youngling so endeared to her. Quickly she motions her over to assist in leading the seemingly lifeless form to safety. Where Ranok had spared a citizen his life from the hefty landing pot, another was sloshed only with the contents thereof. Leifa was hiding under a booth since it seemed Emilia had left her there with the other roaring dragon still about. She was happy though that Nix (Xzavior) had went to calm the angry one but hoped he would remain safe. Especially when Silver came into the scene and had made her rush for the giants who were still bickering. When Leifa saw Ithil (Sabrina) start helping someone who was caught in the crossfire she instantly ran her way. She didn't have anywhere else to go and she felt a lot safer knowing she was with someone so familiar. The healer stands, directing the small but strong Leifa to pull the human by the ankle cuffs to a clearing beyond the tree line. Sabrina would station herself there, far enough from the immediate dangers yet obvious enough for bystanders to drag the wounded to the clearing. The happenings of Pilar occur moments later and out of view, though it was not as if the Elfess could do much for the girl unless someone brought her around.

Harrison didn't really know what was going on. There was a party, and beer and other booze, and food, and even something to smash! It wasn't clear what the celebration was for, but it took a confusing turn when Balder's aggression was briefly direction at the bear wrestler, then to another giant, then... that poor little man minding himself. Suddenly more arcane happenings were afoot, and electricity bolted- in an orb?! -from Ayras to the earlier-angered giant. More chaos and violence... This was one hell of a party! There was even stew-dumping! Nostalgia of home was the only comfort here, and it was sadly brief. A figure that vaguely resembled one piñata pre-destruction entered. Was the game earlier preparation for this..? As Hildegarde seemed preoccupied with other business, the wrastler thought better of interrupting-- that, and the increasing amount of guarding bodies would surely dissuade anyone without an actual grudge or purpose. Harrison's attention turned to some of the other giants furthering the rioting/spoiling the party. The grip was tested upon the holy toothpick's base, and it was found satisfactory. After a few no-gooders were put down, Ursa regained consciousness and groggily made way to aid her companion. Eventually the pair would decide to leave the chaos before events reached their climax, preferring to stay out of the main conflict.

Orikahn has not yet recovered from his loss, and was sulking up until right about the time that Balder began shouting. Well now! This is quite a turn of events. Orikahn hadn't imagined the giants would fall to infighting. Is this a good sign? A bad sign? The cat isn't particularly eager to leap into the fray, but it looks like the fray is erupting around him. There are hobbits and stews flying, there are people safely catching each (even if the hobbit is still pretty badly off from the kick and a bit of stew had still managed to slop from the pot and scald an unsuspecting bystander), there are people shouting, swords being drawn, knees being kicked, lightning flying to and fro--oh! There's Hilde. And Leone. Had they been here all along? Is Leone still trying to arrest him? No matter! Kahn has to duck as a hand-hurled projectile sails directly past him. Looks like some of the giants have taken to throwing some of the timber posts, each the size of an ordinary man, they'd brought for cooking fires. Kahn looks behind himself at the sturdy wooden beam sticks itself into the ground behind him. Had that struck, Kahn is fairly certain it would have taken his head clean off, whiskers and all. Balder, meanwhile, discovers himself the focus of a lot of attention, and though he had planned to go on marauding through the crowd, several cries demand addressing. Least of which is Balgruuf. Ignoring the condemnation coming from his father, the arrogant giant looks up and discovers... A lot of electricity. His eyes flicker between Ayras and Kasyr, and he hesitates. He chokes. All the giant thinks to do is hold out his hand toward the ball, as though he could block it. This goes about as well as expected. A surge flickers through him. Balder goes rigid a moment, sparks flying over his massive frame, and he staggers back, falling to one knee, eyes turned to the sky as residual discharge continues to flicker around him.

There was so much happening behind him. Hildegarde had taken to the field, calling out Balgruuf's name, and others were rushing to her defense or seeking to assist the innocents of the carnival. Most of the happenings were only registered in the back of his mind; truly, he didn't even recognize the Silver in his eagerness to reach Balder. But then there was the web of electricity that did not originate from him. It stole Ayras' attention, sent towards Balder as it was, putting the vampire directly in its path. But the spellblade was a manipulator of lightning. A grin split his face as he held out his left hand, another mad laugh ringing into the sounds of chaos around him. It redirected, flowed to the vampire's mithril hand, and quite promptly began to shape into something else, something not at all spider-related. Soon a sword of pure electricity was in Ayras' left hand, and quick enough his jasper weapon was in his other. Once more did Ayras feel complete, a weapon in both hands. It was a moment that would have been perfect for Ayras to spin about and take on Balder. But his spin to intercept the lightning brought Kasyr and his plight to the elf's attention. Balder, laid low though he was and easy prey, was forgotten for the moment as some semblance of Ayras' rational mind came back; it seemed battle was a remedy, if probably temporary, for the vampire's insanity. The elf darted, weaved and leapt over people and obstacles to reach the downed revenant. With a quick flurry of slashes, two of Kasyr's scarves were cut short before that electrical blade was set upon his last. Ayras was shocked to find that, rather than cut through, the electricity instead conducted through the scarf and into the elder's assailants. Of course, electricity had this wonderful effect of effectively paralyzing folks that weren't like himself and the former King of Vailkrin, and Ayras took full advantage of that fact to turn the giants and their heads into parted friends. "Get up, you git," he chided Kasyr as he stood over the man. "Next time you want to talk trash to an enemy, make sure you're not surrounded."

Hildegarde was grateful for Lionel and Xzavior’s intervention, it meant she could forge ahead to clear a path towards Balder and Balgruuf. If she could put down the rabid Balder, this riot might snuff itself out. The knight had Linn taking up a defensive side, Kasyr and Ayras were focusing upon Balder and a man she didn’t know was helping to guide the people out. The Silver has no time to personally acknowledge Leone or Linn and thank them for their assistance, but they know her well enough to know she is grateful nonetheless. While she would like nothing more than to power ahead and strike Balder or Balgruuf down immediately, Laezila and Pilar are being accosted. Poor Pilar has even been struck by a giant! Empowered by the protective yet divine wards of Leone and flanked by Linn, the knight changes course: approaching the giant quickly. Her short-sword drawn and halberd in one hand, she approached from behind and jerks out the spear-point of her halberd with a mighty roar. It’s angled in such a way to surge through the back of his knee; the shaft twisting so the axe-head of the weapon is now horizontal, rather than its vertical entry wound. The Silver tugs hard on the knee, releasing her weapon and obliterating the knee of the giant which sends him wobbling onto his now obliterated knee with an agonised scream. With a swift hack, her short-sword has sliced the Achilles tendon. The giant isn’t dead, but he cannot move and is in too much pain to cause Laezila or Pilar any more trouble. To Sabrina she looks, “Move them!” she gestures quickly to Ranok, “Rally to him, he’ll get you safe!” she’s trusting in this stranger. Meanwhile, Balgruuf is in a panic… his son appears to be maimed and his opposition to the throne is fast approaching. What can he do? He can cause a stir. He can make people stay and get in the way of these would be heroes. In a last ditch attempt to cause trouble, Balgruuf heaves up a heavy barrel and casts it down with a barking laugh! The barrel shatters against the ground in a display of twinkling lights; the sound of tiny bits of metal on metal, almost like a symphony of rain can be heard as thousands upon thousands of golden coins litter the earth. Of course, there will be some villagers willing to wade into the battle to fetch it. Greed is a powerful thing.

Pilar hardly registered that someone had grabbed her and was attempting to get her to her feet. A bit of blood dribbled down out of her nose. That blow would doubtlessly have killed (or at least rendered vegetative) a normal woman. The giant turned fully towards the two diminutive vampires and reached out to grab Laezila by the hair and pull her off her feet. This was interrupted by Hildegarde driving her halberd through his knee and rendering him a cripple. Pilar, still dazed, stared blankly at her savior.

Sabrina didn’t have time to check on the boys, Ro and Nix had been through so much considering their current foes. Leifa chattered lightly and grabbed the cuffs to help Ithil along with her plans. Right now she'd do what she must to help out and stay here alongside the elfess she trusted so. Leifa silently bid the mismatched pair of fire and ice the best of luck for their fight and hoped to any higher power up there that they come out safe. It was already consuming a good deal of energy so she found herself skipping over those with less deadly wounds. She had no tools with her to aide in sutures as she had not expected this night to turn out just so. She begins tearing off sections of her attire to thwart oozing wounds, for now the field method would have to be utilized if she wanted to save what she had left for the warriors taking up swords with the Silver’s arrival. Hildegarde’s call would be answered as she turns to the stranger to take some leadership position in organizing the injured citizens still clutching fistfuls of gold.

Lionel strafes sharply to the east and almost into crates of ale and bread as the irate armourer pounds forth with intent to kick him dead. Then the armourer bellows – a deep rumbling like thunder to summon allies to his cause. Lionel ducks beneath a titanic boot and rolls, throwing Hellfire like a lance into the giant’s shop stall and covering his face to shield himself from the miniature blaze this fosters. From the corner of his eye he notes a young illusionist helpless and cowering, surrounded by foes. He taps his hip and pulls free a serrated knife to toss at one of the giants closest to Pilar, then twists his lithe frame and all but catapults himself to retrieve his sword. By now the man is cornered by four opponents towering over him – and so, with a deep breath and a fast-beating heart, he swings Hellfire in a three hundred sixty degree arc, flames flooding outward as if possessed, each one burning a terrible agony into the thighs of the giants even as they are moving to strike with their gargantuan spears and hammers. Lionel is not so daft as to remain in place; confident that his steel has sliced great gashes into each of them, he snaps his fingers and darts beneath the armourer, who is crouching and screaming in agony. “Bottom’s up,” he whispers, and then he jumps onto his back and impales him through the spine.

Laezila cried out in pain as that hand entangled into glittering white locks, but was fortunate as to Hildegarde's saving (even at the cost of assaulting Balgruuf directly). Thus, she was not ripped from her feet, and was able to steady herself even as the sound of gold coins showering the area cascaded almost deafening around the two women. Pilar was staring blankly at the lithe little drow, and Laezila frantically shook her shoulders, "Come -on-!" She was shouting, and hooked her arm through that of the other Dragona vampire's, to forcibly begin to pull her in the opposite direction as the midst of the fighting; they had a bit to go, though, but luckily they were both rather small women. Laezila's other hand was holding a bloodied dagger, apparently having been using that to stick anyone that sought to tangle with the two women when flung bodily at them, like some deranged ex-girlfriend. Another Giant swung at a human right in front of them, and the drow forcibly released Pilar to grip her hair and shove her head down -to make the girl duck alongside the drow beneath the massive arm that practically killed the human in but a punch. Unfortunately, Laezila had to disentangle when the Giant sought to grab her; she went with his hold to slam her little body against his, and shove her dagger deep into his belly. This caused both her release and his imminent demise, but lost the weapon, and the drow was scrambling back toward Pilar, seeking to grasp and pull at her hand, "Come-on, stupid girl!" Why wasn't she moving?!

Hege was pissed. And slightly blind, at the moment. But that wouldn't stop the large giant. Wildly, the Frosty woman began swinging her arms around, attempting to hit whatever was within her reach. The first thing just so happened to be the blacksmith's armor stand, just as Lionel had grabbed his sword. As expected, the stand didn't last even a single smack of the giant's huge fist and fell to pieces and now probably in flames as well, thanks to Hellfire. Hege bellowed in pain and called out doing her best to avoid any flames, "Dammit! Where are you?!" It didn't take long after the yelling for Kelovath to put his now brightly glowing sword to work against Hege. Within a few seconds, the sword was able to slice into multiple places on both of the giants legs. When the warm holy-coated metal connected with frozen flesh, it would begin to deeply burn the surrounding skin like a poison. With each cut into the skin, 5 or 6 of them in total, the paladin's features grew dark. Not his smile or eyes, but literally, his own skin grew dark. Well, what was visible anyway. As well, the man whispered at the end of the attack, "Ah...Yes." Only now did a smirk creep across his lips. Hege, once feeling the pain of the burn, not so much the actual cutting process, shouted once again. "I'll kill you!" It didn't take long for the giant to regain her sight after the paladin's attack on her legs. Again, she was pissed. Kelovath knew it. He knew it for sure when the huge Frost-woman was able to reach out with a fist faster than the paladin could get away. Using his sword as a brace, he took the powerful blow and was knocked backwards several feet, landing on his back. The fist of Hege however, was burned just as badly as her legs. Kelovath, obviously, did not get up right away. But lucky him, Hege sees Balder attempt to block some kind of orb unsuccessfully. For Kelovath, that was the opening he needed. This giant was going to die.

Pilar finally came to, after being dragged partway through the crowd and then dropped to the ground. She blinked a couple times as her senses returned to her. She looked up at Laezila, who was clutching her hand desperately. "Wha...?" she started, a hand going to her face to wipe at her nose. When she pulled her hand away, her eyes widened at the blood on her fingers. "What happened?" she murmured. She got to her feet and wobbled forward somewhat, still slightly disoriented from the hit. At least she probably didn't have brain damage.

Ranok was keeping the peace as well as he could. Disorderly mobs weren't exactly the easiest to steer, but then, he was used to chaos. The chaos of battle, the panic of evacuations, the conduct of riots, they all had a certain shape to it. He looked the part, which helped, the tall and weathered demeanor of authority. A bellowed shout to direct the people, and then an explosion of something comes fom behind. Instinct takes over and he whirls. Metal falling, tinkling. The force to eject it into the air, the force of gold and gravity. Were any in the proper trajectory, people would be hurt. The people he'd decided to save. The moment of a heartbeat passes as the vertible golden shower descends. His feet were planted and hand raises. The blue lights above his shoulder flare bright, harsh to look at and the air seems to grow cold. The armor worked by taking in energy, often in the form of heat. For the draw it was about to do, every bit counts. Unable to further better his position, Ranok pushes and the magntic force surges outwards indescriminately. Arcs of electricity pour forth and there is an audible crackle and pop as the air snaps. There was no time to choose and pick, the falling metal was to be stopped. A counterpoint of force presses out in a bubble facing back towards their origin. Anything else caught in the push would tug, too. The more basic metals, irons and steels, feel the tug the hardest. Anything more magical interfered with the drawn runic connection and is much less effected, with distance and weight both dampening the force. With Ranok's weight as a counter anchor, he was forced to be the one to move as the sheer weight of the gold and all the other metals acted upon press back, driving him straight into the ground hard enough to sink. But, ideally, it'd have worked and the potentially dangerous shrapnel is pushed right back into the face of the giant that released it. Unfortunate that it would have largely been harmless, but then, such life or death choices could rarely be weighted in a sensible manner.

Rohk gives Xzavior no more than a tilt of head, acknowledging his decree before taking up a spot in his wake. Whatever kill was not completed by the Naga would have to answer to the two-tons of hellish wrath following shortly behind. Xzavior paid no heed to most anyone else other then Rohk and Hilde as it were. Linn he hadn't really noticed. He had some plans for how to use Rohk's assistance the best way possible by taking advantage of his stature compared to the giants and weaved beneath any of the poor giant's legs who thought to stop him and stabbing his blades into the backs of their legs and even hamstringed the more stubborn ones, hoping to make them fall and leaving them at just the right height for the hellhound behind him to take care of them. A fitting way to fight in a pair. One goes low the other high. He had barely seen Pilar get slapped by the giant and he was ever so tempted to do a little more then slap the giant but thankfully Hilde beat him to the punch. Or slash. Or whatever you want to call it. Either way the giant would most definitely think twice before laying a hand on someone helpless again. If he could even stand after that ever again. Turning back to the scene before him he brandished his swords at his side and looked around critically and muttered quietly to himself, "Come on come on..." He was basically stationing himself so that Hilde would have a clear shot to Balgruuf if she needed it. Warding off any and every giant getting close or crowding up.

Linn proved far from intimidating at Hildegarde’s side to some of the giants. Couldn’t blame them for looking down (literally) on the shiny human that stood just under 6 feet. Even if they couldn’t crack his shell, they could probably just bat him aside. Catching the first giant he twisted to a sudden stop to face his opponent down… before diving forward right between his legs. Hitting the ground he lost no speed, flying right through before his the concealed weapon in his left hand was revealed: a strange, vivid violet crystal that possessed an even stranger swirling darkness within. From it leapt a bright blue veil of force that wrapped around the giant’s ankle, The veil, crystal, and hand spaced apart like some kind of stretching spring that halted the enchanter’s momentum before a swift yanking motion jerked the foot right out from its supporting position. Clenching his weapons in his fists again he pushed to his feet, not even out of a crouching stance before he lifted the keen blade over his head to bring it down on the neck of the recovering giant, hacking nearly halfway through the thick muscle and tendons before Balgruuf’s shower of gold added another twist to the battlefield. Leaping forward he clipped the grip of the knife with his arm, knocking it over like a lever that opened up a floodgate of giant’s blood as it fully opened the wound. It was going to be a fast bleedout. Leaving the blade on the ground in its pool of blood he reached into another pouch at his belt, retrieving a mass of pearly white sand that he tossed at the feet of any other giants who tried interrupting the steward. They would find the ground to suddenly hold no traction under their feet for some time, making any swift movement, let alone actual fighting, incredibly difficult as even the smallest disruptions in their balance would result in a swift fall. Even in his mithril armor, the heavy enchantments he had set on it as well as the magical energy permeating his form would disrupt Ranok’s magnetic influence, at least for him. With most of the threats cleared he rushed straight for Balgruuf, making a close pass as his hand opened up in one last tossing motion, only for nothing to come out as he skirted back away. It would only be too late that Linn would realize he had run out of the prepared sliding dust putting down the other giants to make a play against Balgruuf.

While Harrison found the lightshow of arcane electricity utterly fantastic, he had more pressing matters at hand, such as figuring out just how hard this big toothpick of his could hit something (His game of hitting the piñata was spoiled by Hildegarde’s bodyguards, poor Harrison.) What was the biggest thing he could whack? One of those giants out there in the crowd looked like it would make a worthy target. Ambling forward with the club over his shoulder he approached the riot, the few giants seeing him either decided to retreat into the crowd to fight someone, or some-thing- else, or tried to make him pay for his blasphemy in wielding the sacred weapon. A groggy ursa came forth to crash into the first giant who tried attacking before the two became locked in their own wrestling match. “You get’em girl!” Harrison cheerily called out before making a crow-hop at the next approaching giant, taking the toothpick in both hands to swing it like a baseball bat going for a home run. And boy did he get one! The giant had little to no time to reverse his massive momentum in an attempt to avoid the toothpick, leaving him a sitting duck in the path of the divine weapon which gave just as little care as the bear-wrestler did for what was in front of it. Like the giant wasn’t even there, Amaroth’s toothpick continued its arc through the swing to send him hurtling through the air off to the side, likely to crush whatever tents or crowd might be in the way of the giant’s massive form. Whoa. Now this was something that could make a party! After looking for a few more giants to bat away and finding none, much to his dismay, the bear wrestler was satisfied enough with the festivities that he decided to call it a night. “Come on Ursa. Let’s go.” He called to the bear that was locked in conflict with the other giant before casually strolling out of the park, the dire beast quickly disengaging to follow.

Laezila 's eyes widened at the disoriented state of Pilar, before she spit some things unsavory in the drow language. But, it was short-lived, because she pulled the girl against her diminutive form, a slender arm around her waist, "Stupid girl, look around. We need to get out of here!" She was snapping at the other vampire, despite her little frame, but figured that she might be forgiven in the future in favor of hurrying Pilar. The girl was pushed by the drow, seemingly perpetually, as a driving force to get her out -but Laezila was a small woman herself, and she had to shed her blade just a few moments previous. So she wasn't particularly the most formidable opponent of the Frost Giants -rather easy pickings, actually. This was made apparent when one of them shoved out his arm to, in a single sweep, crash his limb into Pilar and Laezila both. The latter pushed the former's head down to duck under the arm, but such was a sacrifice as she was struck across her collar. The drow was launched from her feet and tumbled in a wake of dirt and clod across the area, to a few paces from Lionel, and double that from Kelovath. She was face down in a pool of giant blood, and struggling to her hands and knees; her ears rang deafeningly, as she crawled slowly forward, and it was upon a weapon that her left hand landed, and wrapped fingers around it. She hadn't an idea what it was, but it felt like it could do some damage; she looked up groggily at an oncoming Frost Giant, who was really going for Lionel, and abruptly hoisted the weapon up and pointed outward to let the male impale himself on it.

Kasyr is feeling a good many things all at once, notably being a lack of his spine screaming, an instantaneous transition to relief and impending-murder-glee, and a short burst of electrical energy flaring through his being, something which sends a brief shock through his muscles before his innate affinity has him shuffling those errant electrical energies towards his core, containing them within himself like some peculiar battery. The brief lull provided by Ayras is more than appreciated, the Kensai staggering up to a stand and trying to blink all the pretty spots clear. “Thought I had it.” He presses his eyes shut again, trying to will them away, dimly aware that some of the giants present had noticed Balders fall and were now converging towards his position. Forcing the weird mixture of nausea and pain beneath the surface, the revenant opens his eyes anew, and promptly reacts to the encroaching bodies of the giants who were there to play 'hero'. The first one to get within arms reach of the Kensai is caught in the midst of a lunge, a quick upwards cut driving the Katana's edge right where the forearm ends and hewing it clean off, the Kensai then pressing forward to avoid the pain wracked grope of the other arm, a motion which lends itself well to a visceral slash that opens up the mans stomach and sends entrails spilling out onto the pavement. A scene that gets far worse as one of the townsgoers who had been diving for some of the spilled gold that was even now cascading back to it's sender- finds themselves entangled. Seemingly blind to the morbid source of their immobility, they desperately claw and lunge towards a particular clump of gold that had remained trapped beneath a giants foot- dragging the agonized giant to the ground on top of them with a sickening squelch. Kasyr doesn't really miss a beat, hopping back when the giant falls, and then on top of the spot his body occupies, his Katana bounced briefly off the ground to send one of those coins which still skittered to and fro launching upwards into the air. At about which point he caught it, and discharged every bit of energy that he'd managed to latch hold of following Ayras display. A little bit of electrical theatrics that proceeds to leave a perfectly coin shaped hole through the heads of a few giants. Safer to aim at that height, really. Xalious folk weren't apt to be standing that tall. Somewhere nearby, a pot of something burbling pleasent slams into a giants leg, if only to spatter boiling hot stew in all directions- one of the myriad objects sent spalling this way and that by Ranoks action. “...Ooo.”

Pilar stumbled along with Laezila's guidance. "Sorry..." she mumbled after the drow chided her stupidity. She couldn't be angry with Laezila; after all, she was right. She had been stupid to ever think that she could help in this war. Then a giant arm was coming for her face and she was shoved out of the way. She grunted when she hit the ground, feeling Laezila ripped from her side. She looked up at the giant in horror. He lifted his foot to slam it down on her skull, which she barely dodged by rolling out of the way. She pushed herself to her feet and stood, swaying slightly, before the giant. What to do, what to do? The giant went for her again, and she did the only thing she could think to do: she punched him in the groin as hard as she could. And her vampire strength was not inconsequential, when focused on such a delicate area. The giant clutched his damaged jewels and let out a squeak. Pilar took that as her cue to get the hell out of dodge. She looked around for Laezila and found her in a pool of blood, clutching a sword. Still unsteady, she started towards the drow.

Kasyr said to Ayras, "You have murder dibs, right?"

Sabrina screams “No!” Through the view of the trees the Elfess is seen running to a smaller form just brought in by bystanders who were quick to take their leave, good deed done and all by bringing the child to the safety zone. She slides to her knees and has placed her body over that of an unconscious boy. Above her a club is raised, pausing for the sheer enjoyment of what was about to happen. A single giant had separated himself from the central riot and sought hatch marks for the easy kills hiding here.

Orikahn takes out his bow. Dropping into a crouch, the massive cat tries his best to fall beneath the scramble of the crowd around him, a scramble aplified by the sudden eruption of gold upon the battlefield. What a testament! The primal creature had often been impressed by the influence the silly yellow disks seem to have over people, but this is downright bewildering. Even in the face of mortal peril, they rush upon the pile. Backing up enough so the greedy bystanders can surge around him, Orikahn draws and arrow and knocks it, mindful not to nick any careless gold-grabbers with the flint broadhead. Gauntleted fingers flex against the bowstring. The hunter hasn't forgotten about the giant that had tried to do him in. Not bothering to wait for a break in the scramble around him, Kahn pops up and fires from the hip, sending an arrow shrieking into the giant's throat, sticking it deep and prompting stricken creature to stiffen in pain and clamp a hand over the wound. Orikahn doesn't stop there. He was counting on just such a reaction. Two more arrows follow, this time properly sighted, to strike the giant in the temple and forehead, each burying themselves to the fletching. The giant bellows a ghastly cry, scarcely understanding what has transpired, and staggers back to escape from whatever terrible assailant has so wounded him. About that time, Ranok's magnetism trick really starts taking effect, and the cat, clad in his beloved armor as usual, begins to feel a strange pull upon himself. He stops, leans to pull against it, then soon discovers he is being pulled across the grassy turf toward the accumulating bundle of metal. With a deep yowl of surprise, he digs his feet against the soil and, discovering this insufficient, drops his bow so he can claw to dear earth with his fingers. This is terrible. Balder looks to his hand with horror. The skin is a crackled, peeling mess of black, blue, and increasingly, crimson red as blood seeps from a multitude of burst capilaries. Lines of steam (and smoke) still curl up and away from the hideous injury. Some actual pieces are evidently missing from his wrist, blasted clean away as the millions of volts had surged through the fleshy bottleneck and into his body. The fingers appear stiffly frozen in place. A cry of horror escapes him, and he scrambles back, falling onto his haunches and kicking at the dirt as he struggles to scramble backward, still holding the ruined member before his face as though unable to break away.

Ayras had lifted his swords as those giants approached Kasyr and himself...only to lower them as the Kensai dispatched them without the need of aid. Amidst the field of battle, Ayras was just standing there, his head cocked to the side and a ruby eyebrow lofted with a look that just simply said 'huh...' The question of the next kill brought that mad grin back to his face, though, as silver eyes shifted to set upon Balder. "Aye, that I do, my friend. And I've just the guy that needs killing." Once more Ayras crossed the field of battle. There were, of course, those that sought to stop the elf, and they were dealt with brutally. Limbs were severed, heads punctured, Ayras cared not at all for the lives of these traitors to Frostmaw. His steps slowed as he came to Balder, however, turned to those of a hunting cat playing with a cornered rodent. "Well, well," he sneered. "Look at Mister High And Mighty, now." Ayras slapped his jasper sword against Balder's charred hand, smacked it out of the way, just before the very same weapon went up and sliced back down to sheer through the giant's right hand. "Tell me Balder, who will be whose servant, now?"

Hildegarde had no desire to kill anyone, but she would immobilise whatever opponent dared to stand before her and justice. Balgruuf, however, has no intention of staying. With his son scrambling backwards and now maimed, he roars above the crowd: “RETREAT!” he commands, demanding that he and his fellow giants leave this place. Some reach for the few mammoths that were driven down here, some try to grab their caravans and stalls. Balgruuf only grasps Balder by the scruff of his collar, “Up! Get up!” Hildegarde is trying to make her way to them, trying to yell out her challenge: but the screams of panicked civilians, the screams of the hurt and the dying, they all drown her out and impede her movement. Then Leone has been snatched away by panicked civilians and the knight cannot turn back for her. They will find one another again shortly, they are reaching for the holy woman in blind panic is all. “Balgruuf, you coward!” she roared out furiously. Balgruuf’s tug on Balder’s collar is timely, for it just pulls Balder out of Ayras’s sword swing. Only a few fingers from his good hand are sliced off – he could still hold a sword in it that hand if he had to – but his corrupted and electrified hand is sliced clean off. His son howls with pain. If it weren’t for the strength and will of his father, he’d have lain down and died. But fortunately, his father had the will and sense of survival. The giants retreat. What giants remain, however, drop their weapons. Some do fight on, of course, loyal to Balder and Balgruuf. Some, however, begin to murmur: ‘Hildegarde’, ‘Queen of the North’, ‘Queen Hilde’. She had won a battle, but not yet the war.

Kelovath ignored the coins that littered the ground around him. His full attention was on the distracted giant and it wouldn’t be long until this giant would soon be dead. Loud enough for Hege to hear him, the paladin began chanting. The whole time, a smirk graced the lips of the armored paladin and his sword truly began to give off a holy glow. Arkhen truly had a champion and his name is Kelovath. The weapon within the hands of the paladin was lifted upward and the light continued to shine bright. “This is…” The words stopped there and the paladin leapt toward the large woman. At the same time, Hege noticed the light and started to swing at Kelovath with yet another closed fist. Having complete focus, the man was able to simply side-step the clumsy attack, and thrusted the bright, glowing blade directly into the frozen thigh of Hege, and continued to rip the sword farther up the leg of the woman. Hege could no longer hold herself up from the extreme damage done to her leg, along with the burning feeling rushing threw it. Now being in a much more vulnerable position, almost dog-like, she needed to do something to turn the tide. Unfortunately, with Hege now being on a much lower level and in excruciating pain, the paladin had the perfect situation. Kelovath was just off to the side of her and began to run. The direction he ran was right toward the giant and with the small amount of distance between them, the armored man slid just enough, lowered himself to the center of the woman, and forcefully stabbed her in the chest. The frozen heart of Hege was now just another piece of meat on the end of a sword. A holy-burning sword that was now turning said heart into nothing but ash. Once the attack had come to its conclusion, Kelovath rolled out from under the dead giant, and allowed his gaze to scan the crowd. It was at this point that the sound of retreat was heard. This fight was over.

Ranok had picked himself up at some point, woozy. His chest hurt, like several giants had stood on it, but he convinced himself he'd suffered worse. His eyes cast about, seeking discarded equipment of his. If he'd forgotten to secure it properly, or it was loose, it went flying when he'd pushed like he had. A sword hilt seemed to be in a puddle of blood? Maybe his, maybe not. At this point, he needed to be gone. Succumbing to pain in the middle of a battlefield wasn't optimal, and he'd poorly planned the shove. Were he more clear headed, he'd be mulling ideas on how to better distribute such a load. A gold coin is selected, one that had fallen early enough and was firmly in the mud, and he also activates the springs of his boots to put distance from here. A bit less spectacular then the entry, and the landing wasn't to be fun, but it beat walking.

Rohk followed Xzavior’s lead, as the giants were crippled to their knees he manages up the body of the first fallen. The gaping awe written all over the oversized brute brings focus onto the hellhound atop his form. With not more than an odd sort of smirk the hellbeast sinks his teeth into the fleshy bits, his maw opening wide to tear out the jugular sending sloshy bits of crimson spraying out over the crowd. The spurts arc as the giant falls backward, teetering to its last beat, large hands move way to slow to stop the bleeding as the hound rode the dying corpse to the ground. Flawless victory. Xzavior however had his attention ripped away from his current mission to free up room for Hilde when he heard the familiar cry of Sabrina and he instantly turned to find her. Seeing the giant stand over her he dropped everything and all but flew across the distance between them and bowled over Sabrina to take her position and block the swinging club with his swords. Strong though they may be they couldn't withstand that kind of force. It went right through his defences and slammed into his chest causing him to hit the ground hard and knocking a lot more then the wind out of him. With a cough of blood he used the weight on his chest to swing his tail around, now adorned with a razor sharp blade of ice, and gutted the giant right through his middle. Leaving the giant to try and keep his innards in he pushed the club off of him and looked to Sabrina and with a small smile croaked, "You alright?" It appeared that the fight was over. At least there was that. He watched the remaining giants run off with their cowardice king but he was starting to find it getting a little hard to breath. Maybe if he just... closed his eyes a bit... rendered unconscious by a giant it seems. Well it looks like they finally get a point on him. At least everyone was safe

Linn ’s head snapped back to Balgruuf who seemed to still have his composure when he should be slipping and sliding all over the place instead before muttering a soft curse. Must not have noticed he used all of the dust in the heat of the moment. With much of the non-combatants out of the way he drew his other blade, a straight longsword that had become noticeably dull. Any frost giants that thought it a good idea to attack him would be met with a torrent of white-hot fire as he pushed the blade’s enchantment well beyond its normal bounds. It was enough to deter the rest that approached him and get them to retreat. Settling his gaze back in on the aftermath he sighed before finding his other sword’s familiar form in Laezila’s hands to find Ranok’s eyes on it as well. He made a point to approach first, a statement that it was his. “Mind if I have it back? It actually worked well enough I might need it again.”

Lionel kicks off from the corpse of the armourer-giant, raising Hellfire above his head to melt a massive spear as one of the vengeful wounded Frostmawians lunges in for the deathblow. He melts a hand, too, and sidesteps from the fall of this brash, weaponless enemy. That sidestep transforms into a backward leap, and when that leap has ended, he’s standing face-to-face with a hurt, defiant Laezila. He’d speak, but Linn pops up and asks her something. Fewer and fewer opponents remain; for Lionel, here on that age-old field of battle, that is what matters first and foremost. Beyond that, there is the matter of civilian safety. Combatants he would have attacked are now turning to bend before Hilde; combatants he’d chase after are bolting quickly alongside Balgruuf and son. One last Frost Giant roars in ear-popping defiance and charges for Lionel, but Hellfire is pivoted leftward, both arms moving like magnets to the assailant, and a big burst of flame shoots forward from its tip and cooks the fool. Lionel rolls his eyes and scans the area for injured.

Laezila , poor girl, wasn't particularly fated to keep hold of that blade, but not because it was staunchly sunk into the stomach of the oncoming Frost Giant that had his gaze set upon Lionel's blindside. The Giant crumpled, and the lithe little drow vampire's foot came up to plant on the shoulder of the man and push, while pulling on the hilt of the weapon in order to, in a macabre show of blood and gore, yank free the weapon from its sheath of frosty stomach. Blood splattered her face and the inhale was deep. The fledgling's tiny body trembled, but she managed a nod toward Linn and outstretched the hilt of the weapon -it's as far as she got. The 'fallen' foe, in a rage of stomach wound and bleeding out, hefted his blade and sank the sharpened edge of the axe into the spine of the vampire -silent save for a single 'schlick' of metal embedding into flesh and tissue. Her eyes widened. She stepped forward once. The giant died, victorious in his last-ditched effort. Another step forward.

Kelovath stepped away from the dead giant of Hege and toward Lionel. He didn't speak, but instead gave the man a slight nod of his head and continued on his way. The fight was done and there was now something the paladin needed to do. Heading away from the battle, the paladin whistled sharply for his mount. A few seconds later, Cobalt the Weasel came running to Kelovath. The paladin climbed on and rode off.

Pilar watched as the giants alternately bent the knee to Hildegarde or ran for the hills... or continued to attack civilians. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Xzavior take a blow for Sabrina, and her steps halted. She almost changed course to check on him, but he was right next to a healer. He'd be fine. Not that she cared about that prick. Definitely not. Then she saw Laezila take a hit and gasped. She hurried forward and caught the other vampire in her arms. "Laezila!" This was bad, the drow was going to bleed out at this rate. Struggling to keep on her feet, Pilar used her teeth to pull up the sleeve of her shirt. She offered her wrist to Laezila. "Drink, it will help you heal."

Linn nodded and took a hold of the hilt of the blade, only to find the giant returning the deathly favor before he could realize what was happening. He was frozen for a split second as Laezila fell, the giant’s next step with the axe bringing the enchanter’s arm snapping up in a swift motion to send the curved blade up through the base of his skull right through his arms. He wasn’t the best in a straight up fight, but he had a penchant for those lethal cheap shots. Following the stab he shoved the giant forward with all of his might to (hopefully) tumble away from everyone before stopping to catch his breath and realize the wounds that just happened. Another curse. Moving over to the giant he dragged the body around to put its neck towards Laezila before retrieving the blade which had gone through the brain. “This big guy will have a lot more blood for you.” Was all he could think to say for the vampires.

Orikahn feels the ordinary pull of the earth return beneath him, and he snatches up his bow, scrambles to his feet, and dashes several meters before he realises, in a moment of lucidity, that he's bounding off aimlessly. The chaos that had erupted seems to be subsiding now. Panic is subsiding also, and though the injured are numerous, Kahn can spot a few healers rushing to the wounded already. The last of the troublemakers are being slain, plenty more lay dead already, and several are muttering about a necessary shift in loyalty. Some in this latter group begin shifting their way toward the steward, right on the heels of the retreating crowd. The steward herself is still trying to find peace with Balgruuf's cowardice, but there are more urgent matters afoot. The people of Xalious need help, and her people, the giants of Frostmaw, need acknowledged. After all, they had believed the Silver to be dead.

Sabrina looked around her surroundings, having only caught the wind trail left behind the blocked bow. She looks below her to the unscathed boy, passed out most likely from the shock and to the citizens following her directions to heal their own loved ones. With the immediate threat gone she meets Rohk’s gaze and with a firm nod helps him to hoist Xzavior over his semi-cooled obsidian frame. Leifa is lifted to accompany the pair and she instructs the Wyvern keep him as cool as possible until she arrives back home. She would remain a little longer, giving instructions for predominantly livable wounds, the others directed to several nearby healers based on their injury and need. Soon she would follow quickly, frazzled and worried that her love would need her by his side. She gives him another once over, noting only one breathable lung. Reaching for a shard from the blade on Xzavior’s own tail she shoves it in the opposite side of his chest between a pair of broken ribs. She stents it and smacks Rohk on his large ass to hurry back. Emilia was there, she would know what to do until Sabrina arrived.

With the withdrawl of Balgruuf, his son, and their minions, Ayras is left with no giant to kill. A snarl rips from his throat as he casts his gaze about, seeing that the remaining resistance is well dealt with and others have bent knee to Hildegarde. The latter giants had him narrowing his eyes. So quick were they to switch allegiances, so quick to run to the side they believe will win. Fangs were bared as he sheathed his sword and absorbed the energy of the lightning weapon he had formed. The cowards disgusted him. The vampire wanted nothing more than to sink his fangs into their throats, but this was not the place. Forward he stepped, back into the mass of people. He pointedly avoided anywhere the Silver was, knowing well that she would not care for his murder of the Frost Giants this day.

Kasyr stares almost expectantly at all the spilled blood around himself, but it's just that- blood churned into the earth and turning it to mud. Already, the ache in his jaw was starting to join the one in his back, and as the riot turns into a rout, the revenant allows his attention to drift, his free hand moving to the inside of his jacket in search of a smoke. It's almost enough to distract him from the not-quite-dead giant's hand reaching for his ankles, somehow defying the fact that guts are literally strewn beneath him out of sheer determined hate. With a chiding 'Tsk', the Kensai slams his sword through the approaching hand, pinning into the ground, before he hops forward- every bit of his and his trenchcoats weight slamming on the giants neck with a satisfying popping noise, “And stay down. You've had your break, now let moi have mine.” Which essentially serves as the Kensai's cue to begin lighting his cigarette, taking an all-too-precarious seat on very rim of the cooking pot he'd spotted earlier. Now apparently unarmed, and just tempting fate. In the meantime, the revenant eyes the lit cigarette, “...Damnit.”

Laezila took another step forward; her eyes couldn't focus. She saw Pilar, her mouth moving, saw Linn, but all she could hear is a deafening ringing in her ears and all the young woman could feel was a surreal sense of disconnect. "Ayras." She rasped, and her unfocused stare turned past Pilar and Linn alike in order to reach with a hand toward the redhead -he was so far away. Her world spun, the ground seemed to be flying at her face.

Pilar sank to the ground, Laezila in her arms. She looked desperately at Linn. She had no idea what to do.

Linn glanced around the field briefly, recalling the rather distinct form of balled-up lightning before shouting over the chaos towards wherever he might be able to find the redhead. "Ayras!" he shouted, hoping Laezila's condition would be enough to bring the vampire over.

Hildegarde cannot help but smile, if only slightly, at the victory of gaining a few more followers. She will need them, she knows, when the time comes to march on Frostmaw. She pats the backs of several steadfast allies, raises her halberd in salute, and makes her knightly rounds to ensure the wellbeing of all those present. Even wounded Frost Giants who refuse to swear allegiance are given healing spells under the Silver Dragon’s insistence, much to the chagrin of some Xalious medics on standby. When she is confident enough that the situation is under control, she bids brief farewell and takes an entourage with her to march further into town and treat with the evening’s unexpected prisoners.

Ayras hadn't seen Laezila's condition until he came around a pair of surrendered giants. The sight there stopped him in his tracks. There she lay, face-down, a great wound in her back. Once, before his starvation and the wound that had driven his knightly countenance from him with his sanity, he would have rushed right over. Now, however, he simply walked, strode over like a man examining a work of art. He crouched beside her silently, a hand hovering over that gaping laceration. "Such a poor creature," he mumbled to himself as the electricity he had absorbed began to crackle close around his mithril hand once more until it blazed brightly with heat. "And this is about to hurt." He lowered his hand to that wound of hers, let the heat sizzle the wound and cauterize the blood vessels. If nothing else, it would keep her from bleeding out.

Orikahn sticks around, kind of mills about, nudges a few dead things with the toe of his sabatons and, when he is confident nobody is looking, takes a souvenir here or there. Eventually he will join Hildegarde's entourage when the time comes for her to depart. Useless cat.

Pilar held Laezila as Ayras worked. She looked at the redhead, brows furrowed. "Ayras...?" she ventured. She hadn't seen him since... Jeez, it had been months. She'd heard that he'd become dangerous and bloodthirsty, and while he was helping, she was wary of him.

Laezila's scream was short-lived and quiet -it came out as a whimper-turn-convulsion, and the horrible twist of agony across her face as the heat cauterized her gaping back. Tears streamed down her face, and a hand desperately groped and clung to the arm of the insane redhead as she gasped in agony, "stop, please, stop... Ayras..." He other hand was loose in Pilar's grasp -not relaxed, but rather, immobile.

Ayras moved his scorching hand away from Laezila's back as she whimpered, a curious look on his face. "You wish to die?" was all he asked of her before he lifted his gaze to Pilar as she spoke his name. He recalled the fledgeling, if just vaguely. A brief conversation held in the tavern in Frostmaw, followed by a not-quite-warm parting. The expression on his face was one of questioning, a curiosity to the hesitation in her voice.

Kasyr sighs with disgust at the cigarette in his hands, and flicks it towards the ground. Those spots were bubbling into his vision again, starting at his periphery and working their way inwards, a sobering reminder of his current state. Hopefully, he could mill towards someone he could trust for some form of medical aid. Stepping forward again, the Kensai gives a slight hiss, his back protesting the movements now that the adrenaline was wearing off. Stretching, whilst making it hurt worse for a moment, did seem to help slightly. As is stood, however, the revenant like Ayras, was rather proficient at seeking to sidestep Hildegarde. Last thing he needed was to be a point of concern for her. He still needed to figure out what his 'plan of attack' for all the damnable things cropping up were.

Pilar ran her fingers through Laezila's hair soothingly, her eyes never leaving Ayras. "Are you... alright?" He was supposed to be Laezila's friend, wasn't he? But he was so detached. So cold. It didn't make any sense. What had happened to him?

Laezila 's pleading expression of agony and suffering lifted, unfocused, toward the ruby redhead, "It hurts," she whispered, "Am I dying?"

Ayras turned his attention to Laezila as she asked if she was dying, opting to respond to that before answering Pilar. "You won't if you let me finish what I was doing." His hand was, after all, still hovering not too far from Laezila's back, and still glowing white-hot. Silver eyes went back to the redheaded fledgeling afterwards, his head cocking to the side. "Why would I not be alright?"

Pilar shook her head. "I don't know... You just seem... different. From before."

Laezila 's eyes fluttered, her hand still clung to Ayras' limb. "I'm sorry," for what happened because of her, "I wasn't good enough." And her eyes drifted shut. Dead? Unconscious, though she will be dead if she bleeds out.

Ayras shrugged a bit. He was different, it was true. But for Ayras, this break from sanity was more a return to himself, to how he was when Satoshi sat the throne of Frostmaw. Perhaps it wasn't truly a break from sanity, if one thought about it. Perhaps it was just a veil had been lifted to reveal the man behind the curtain, and that his former, civil self was merely a facade that he had been working tirelessly to keep up. "Perhaps," was all he had time to get out before Laezila's eyes shut. He did not curse, nor did he show any outward sign of distress at the sight. He merely sighed and went back to cauterizing Laezila's wound. At least now she wouldn't give that silent scream of hers.

Pilar said nothing more, only holding Laezila and stroking her hair while Ayras finished his work.

Pilar will take Laezila back to House Dragana to rest.

Lionel pats Kasyr on the shoulder, gives him a regal thumbs-up and his best and goofiest smile, and bumps into a tree on his way out of the park -- he looks up and notes Katherine in that tree, blinks thrice, and then carries on.

Kasyr returns the gesture, and then glances back to the former Knight-Captain of Frostmaw, “Ayras. Find me later, aye?” For now, the revenant had to try and get himself up to snuff quick enough that he can continue his facade.

Ayras watched as Pilar departed with Laezila, then turned to Kasyr as he called out to him. A simple nod is given in reply to the former King, and something akin to a salute. "I will, aye." And with no further to-do, the vampire quits the scene of the battle. Let the carrion beasts eat the dead, for all he cared.