RP:Sauriangate II: Jurassic Monarch

From HollowWiki

Part of the Sauriangate Arc


Part of the Rise of Larket Arc


This is a Warrior's Guild RP.


Summary: The Sauriangate sub-arc comes to a head as Lionel leads the Warrior's Guild through Leone's portal and into an ancient nightmare. With Krice by their side and support from Penelope of the Healer's Guild, Lionel, Rorin, Emrith, and Ameno wage total war against a tyrant race to rescue the countryside hovels and farmland from further slaughter. Kreekitaka seizes opportunity to assist, capturing several of the saurians to train in his rising army.

Frostmaw: Storage Tent

Leone is calmly waiting on the opposite side of the room from the door. The storage chamber has been rearranged, with the customary crates piled high, and locker-like shelves and partitions installed in rows. These changes are purely for the offensive, and the room will be returned to it's usual state afterward. Down the center of the room, baskets and barrels full of optional personal supplies sit ready for hands to dip into, while assigned supplies and cargo are arranged in an arc just in front of the priestess. Several soldiers are helping others to prepare, ensuring that all lists are checked and all orders are clear. A few begin to suit up, donning packs and parcels as having been instructed after armor and weapons are secured on their persons. As the troops trickle in and into formation, the farrier begins a slow count. Tawny lips move in accord with whispered numbers, flexing and fluttering like the wings of a bird mid-flight. Impossibly luminous, lime green sights survey the assembling mass of armored men and women, calculating the time and energy that will be needed to bridge the distance across the dead lands and into the Sage Forest. Without further ado, the High Priestess presses her hand into a rigid stance, palm and fingers all aligned. She slices through the air with the fixed digits, scribing a line that is traced in brilliant cerulean blue. It floods the immediate area with an icy glow, a momentary well of cool hues before exploding forth with a raucous force. Beyond the blue-traced rift in the here and now is a wide expanse of grey, a far reaching plane devoid of colors and features - except for a second cobalt-edged window of color just a few scant paces into the unending, hoary realm. On the other side, the deciduous and fir trees of Northern Sage Forest are plain. Passage awaits, held open by the trembling, steaming hand of the Aramothian cleric.


Lionel tilts, scanning the men and women whose lives have been entrusted to him. Silently, he’ll pray to the gods he hasn’t in him to believe exist that every one of them shall return unharmed. His eyes cast first to three footsoldiers of the Warrior’s Guild, understandably nervous. Then to Emrith, ranking high and without equal in the decisive skills he possesses. Then Rorin and Ameno, talented initiates on their first major mission. Krice, invaluable. Penelope and her multitalented tutor. He clears his throat. Time is of the essence -- he will not let the High Priestess hold this portal long. “Throughout history, we’ve been tempted into long, dramatic speeches in the moments before battle. We don’t have that luxury today, but nor do we need it.” He smirks. “We go in, we hit them where it hurts. We make them pay. I don’t know if saurians understand the concept of revenge, but today we do our best to teach them. Don Emrith’s invisibility cloaks once you step in through Leone’s gate. Understand that the Uyeer King Kreekitaka can and will move in to seize any opportunity -- don’t engage his forces, but respect them, work with them, and we’ll all figure that hot mess out on a later occasion. Do the guild proud. Do yourselves proud. Don’t worry about me -- that one’s already in the books.” He grabs his gear and takes the captain’s lead of first into the war zone. “Let’s mosey.” Lionel warps through to the other side.


Rorin moved among the assembled as any soldier in the crowd. Though he flew no banners nor ran colors still he represented a skilled and mighty swath that seemlessly wove it's way through the forces here as at home as a fish in the sea. He came to the Jump Point among the rest and stood by Lionels side. Rorin had the utmost respect the high priestess, though he did not kmow her position or status, her abilities surpassed what could be a lifetime of work for others and there was no ignoring the blissful light that seemed to pour from her work and her soul. He watched in a small bit of awe as he kept a military stance and waiting for preparations to begin. Lionel gave a prompt but well delivered speech, and Rorin moved to assemble the three stand by soldiers. "You men, on me," The Pilgrim waved them over and they began to grab hold of the groups supplies on special order, throwing off the tarp. They would remain in the back so that the mission csrgo was protected when it came through. Rorin looked to Lionel for the go command.


Ameno stood ready drabbed in his dark blue clothing, at his side sheathed was his hiltless blade. Pulling up his hood, and unsheathing his sword. Ameno focused on what lay ahead and not on the men and women around him, save of course for the men he was in charge of. "Men, women, lets do our duty, and do it to our best and fullest." And then he charged the portal.


Northern Sage Forest

Krice was one of the last to arrive for reasons that were his own, clad in simple black robes over his usual attire; it was not remotely sufficient enough to protect him from the cold of Frostmaw, especially so far out west, but he bore the bone-deep chill without complaint - or even visible symptoms. Across his back, secured there by twin straps made of leather, lay two katanas parallel to one another; his usual fixture, plus another, still beautifully crafted but certainly not a common tote. The priestess would recognize it well. He moved through the gathered soldiers to stand just inside Leone's reach and slightly to her side, opposite the hand that pulled open a divine door into Northern Sage. Unless directly engaged, he paid no mind to anyone else, his focus so fixated on the woman in her time of great importance. As soon as that portal was opened, he shot her a wistfully grateful look before jumping right through, leaving Lionel to address everyone else. He was in a rush, again for reasons that were his own, and as he arrived in the forest on the other side, the very visible warrior took cover on the blindside of a tree, from whence he attuned his overdeveloped hearing outward; listening for dinosaurs, listening for Macon - listening for Kreekitaka.


Kreekitaka would not be difficult to find. Given the urgency of this particular mission, he'd agreed to let meeting Hildegarde slide for a moment so as to have time to gather some riders. A few, he'd agreed to. Fortunately, he wasn't going to use some alternative definition of few--Krice and Lionel had made very good points the other night. However, nobody had said anything convincing him to make his own part in this affair a covert op. It had exhausted his caster almost entirely--the uyeer magician was going to be pretty much useless for a few days--but he'd managed to get off just enough fast-travel spells to get Kree and his task force here in time. And what a task force--Kreekitaka himself was riding Vindicator, his personal war scorpion--thirty feet long, with long blade-lined arms for latching onto any dinosaurs guided into its grip. Kree himself was wielding a lance and a shield, the former of which had been coated in a mild toxin which would paralyze and subdue the animals without killing them. But Kree and Vindicator were not the only members of the task force, nor was Vindicator considered the heavy machinery. Also along on this mission were four hand-picked uyeer soldiers, wielding whips and jawblades, and each was riding a carcharodontosaurus. Each the size of a semi truck--nearly fifty feet long, standing more than twice as tall as a man. As Lionel's forces left the portal, they'd easily hear the roars of the animals and the stomping of many feet--the tyrant-lizards were being used as sheepdogs, riding around a herd of squat tank-like dinosaurs, driving them in a particular direction, toward the southeast. For Kree, this was no hunting expedition--this was a cattle drive.


Lionel emerges scant meters from Krice’s chosen tree. In a beat he drops to a crawl and takes up position behind a primal elm directly to the enigma’s left, reaching around to his hip and withdrawing an elf’s well-fastened cloak. In so doing, he is afforded a quick glance to Leone’s stone. Shaped into a lion, because the High Priestess has a wicked sense of humor about her. This will be their ticket home. The Catalian -- and the rest of them as they pop in from the portal one by one -- will instantly overhear the feral roaring of Kreekitaka’s beasts and all the squat saurians they’re herding. By the sounds of it, and the clicks and drawls he hears shouted in the distance, the battle has already begun. Kreekitaka is not one for waiting. “Cloaks up,” he orders, to all who will listen. Emrith is the first to adorn his fabric, rendering himself invisibility in an instant. Lionel tugs his own over the thin silk blacks of his shirt and slacks, seeing Emrith as soon as he does. With the cloaks on, they’ll see one-another, but no one else will see -them.- It’s the perfect ambush gear. “We wear these to gain a solid vantage point on the first herd we encounter. Leave whatever the crab king’s out there wrangling to him. We’ll find something else and --” he can’t afford to finish the sentence. Rhythmic stomping descends from the southeast. It’s too much stomping by half. Something big -- no, many somethings. It doesn’t take long for the hunting party to see the source. Five quadrupedal creatures flock toward them fast. On their backs is a thick set of strong, natural armor, and at the tips of their tails, a club-like appendage built for slamming. The cause for their commotion is made immediately apparent: an immense saurian, jaws the size of a blacksmith’s forge and hunger in its eyes. It wants them for dinner and won’t take no for an answer. “For Kalid’s sake,” Lionel curses, thrusting Hellfire from its sheath.


Penelope did not even know why she said ‘yes’ to this mission at all. However, the girl was in a calm state of demeanor and rather quiet around the others around her. All foreign except for Lionel, Krice, and Finn. The healer stays close to the half elf, the man soothingly speaking low to her throughout the huddle of warriors and making low comments throughout Lionel’s speech. Side notes like ‘we’ll stay back’, ‘you’ll be fine and I’ll be here’, ‘remember what we went over, deep breaths’. Penelope was confident enough to breathe. The woman prepared with a pouch full of different herbs strapped around her hip. A small satchel around her torso full of other supplies needed for the trek. The half elf reflecting her preparedness with the same color of pouch and satchel. They were a team duo (high five – freeze frame, amiright?) No, that did not happen. In fact, it was the opposite, still and steady and no words. Eventually, the two hear the cue ‘let’s mosey’, grabbing cloaks before they go through the portal that the priestess makes along behind the rest. Finn is in full protective mode over the girl maneuvering her behind a tree as he huddles over her. The beasts are heard. ‘Cloaks up’ is demanded, and automatically the two take cover with invisibility. Following whatever order was demanded.


Krice felt vibrations in the earth, abrupt and huge, alerting him to the movements of hulking creatures. Saurians... He could feel magic swirling from that direction, dissipating on the heels of Kreekitaka's dinosaurs. So, the Uyeer mage had perfected the fast-travel spell. It didn't take him long to lock onto the smell of the sea and he directed his gaze around his covert tree, spotting Kreekitaka and his soldiers in 'round up' mode. The Crab-King had told he and Lionel that he wished to collect the dinosaurs for his own numbers, in the meeting just the night prior, but he had hoped to sway Kree from that path through diplomacy. He rarely used diplomatic measures to solve issues, probably because they less-than-rarely worked. This time was no exception. Whilst his allies donned their invisibility cloaks, the enigma remained perfectly visible but for his decision to hide, perhaps an advantage for his allies choosing stealth. Quickly removing the buckles over his sternum, he released his katanas from his back and let them fall into his waiting left hand, the weapons clasped and leaned up against his tree. After pulling his robes up over his head and tucking them under an arm, he secured his swords to his back, in the same formation as before, and then took up the robe in his right hand before he stepped out into the cluster of dinosaurs running their way. With the rest of the team rendered invisible, Krice was the only one seeable by the large, reptilian beasts, and he used this to the advantage of everyone else. Lifting his robes high, he fluttered the fabric through the air and ran at a healthy clip, just fast enough to avoid gnashing teeth and grabby claws. From the black folds of the garment in his grasp, he sought to catch and keep the largest saurian's attention by using the scent of his fresh, rich, pure blood conveyed in the cloth. As he ran toward the great beast's feet, the warrior spared a look toward Kreekitaka, who seemed distant and occupied enough that he wouldn't notice the warrior's distraction tactics. If so, it could be perceived as assistance to the Uyeer King, trying to round up the dinosaurs for collection. In the meantime, he would continue to tantalize the dinosaur and evade its large, drool-shined teeth, and very large clawed feet, while providing the team ample opportunity to attack it from its flanks and rear. He'd keep the beast clear of the tree behind which Penelope and Finn sought refuge, forgoing confusion as to why the former was here at all given her learner status in order to corral the hulking saurian in as tight a ring as possible; not for collection, but for extermination. He watched its feet, its eyes, and that lengthy scaled tail, moving just enough to keep it thinking that it could catch him, whilst ensuring he didn't get caught.


Kreekitaka was not -entirely- engrossed in what his team was doing--his own role, unfortunately for him, was to act as rear guard and to keep everything moving. How he'd wanted to go to battle aboard his own dinosaur--but his team had needed one scorpion-rider, just in case, and since Kree fancied himself one of the sturdier among his people, he decided he was best for this job. So as the squat bumpy ones continued to be herded forward by his troops, Kree kept his eyes peeled for additional saurians to add to the mass forced migration. There--more of the squat bony ones, though they were being chased by a predator of their own. Less strong than Kree's own mounts, perhaps, but probably older and more experienced. His glance also happened to catch Krice, running about nearby, trying to grab its attention--that would work perfectly, actually. Kree signaled Vindicator to make a quite loud clacking sound for attention, then gestured to one of his troops to try and sweep around and guide that other herd over towards his primary one. If Krice was here, the others were probably here, and they'd be able to hold off the theropod for long enough to merge these bone-lizards into his own collection.


Lionel is watching Krice wave a red flag of blood around in front of a ten-meter-tall allosaurus and it’s times like these he wonders if the back half of his life is the most spectacular fever dream humanity will ever know. Slack jaws do not dead dinosaurs make, however, so he blinks once, then twice, then charges forth in a streak of crimson flame. Behind his feet, a trail of fire. A terrifying sight for any saurian, a fast-moving blaze without visible cause. Even Hellfire itself is cloaked. The fire scares the ever-loving scales off the club-tailed team of five great beasts, their trajectory uniformly curved eastbound as soon as they catch wind of it. Fate would have it that Kreekitaka’s currently sending an Uyeer troop to the herding, and the saurian pack is blindsided for a second straight time. Besieged on all sides, they begin to wag their menacing tails, and the allosaurus of Krice’s ‘affections’ leans downward to snap its jaws at the enigma -- but not without arms outstretched to take one of the herd of prey in the fleeing face. It roars in defiance, swinging its tail, but Rorin was prepared for this eventuality. With a flourish of his whip, he rounds the weapon -about- the thing’s tail, catching it unawares. The allosaur would have had itself an easy kill now were it not centering on Krice. Good thing, then, that Lionel O’Connor’s trail of fears has ended in a single gallant fiery slash into the tyrant’s meaty leg. It howls, swiping its own tail, but that tail merely ricochets into one of the squat fleeing dinosaurs it had so fancied. That one fires back, tail against tail, and the club-tail wins, sending Krice’s allosaurus lumbering back into dense foliage. Ancient trees fall to the earth, and in the distance, several more currently-unseen saurians cry out in recognition. Oh no -- more already? The allosaur takes measures to regain composure, but its leg is on fire and bleeding profusely. And what of brave Rorin? Well, his whip’s wrapped about that beast even still, and as it rears around to blame him, he hops atop its armored shell like some kind of free-rider. A footsoldier is blasted with blunt force in the commotion, hit by another of the herd even as Kree’s Uyeer comes closer. That blast knocks the poor fellow clear across the ground, there to fall in front of Penelope and Finn. He’s wounded at the hip, but far from death.


Penelope is becoming full of panic as the events arrive. The girl is tightly gripping the tree, back leaned against it. Perhaps she was not ready for all this battling. The half elf keeps one hand on Penelope, eyes tracing the scenes before him and watching each man (or ladies) make their moves. Krice is acknowledged, making sure that the healers are out of harms’ way. Finn knew he could trust him, but Finn is also cautious of the beasts that near him. Penelope alert on Lionel as the fire is trailing behind him. Rorin is noted momentarily until he is up upon a beast, and then the slash is recognized from Lionel. Her eyes flicker quickly over the images of gore. Gore. Gore. Blood. Gore. A man falls into her pathway and her lips gape open. Everything is fuzzy, ringing in her ears. “Penelope, Penelope,” the half elf is trying to call upon her. Too much commotion for such a young inexperienced healer. This was battle. She never thought she would make it here. The half elf grasps her hand and tugs her. “You’re okay,” he pulls her back into reality. “Check your steps, now,” his voice is demanding and the stubbornness and firm tone makes Penelope work instantly. Taking mental notes of the blow from the man before her. She reaches into the satchel for anything to work with, she fidgets with adrenaline, but she works at speed. She pulls out cotton pads from one bag and a bottle of fluid from the other. Automatically she pours liquid on the pad before tending the wound without hesitation or question. Trying to stop the bleeding with pressure and cleaning the wound with one hand, reaching for her pouch with the other. She pulls out yellow waxy crushed leaves. "Chew, now," she demands the moaning man before her. It would help with the pain and to numb it so he could continue. “There’s not enough time for stitching, Pen, tighten gauze around him, he's fine. You’re doing great. Don’t stop. You know it,” the half elf then stands and lingers over her like a hawk, and the freckled woman remains incredibly silent. Eventually, the girl would pull out the stuff she needed. Trying to help sit the man up, she would begin wrapping and biting to cut the fabric with her teeth. There would be no magic today. Unless Finn had to. This was no game, but this was for Penelope's gain to think on the spot. Luckily this was an easy one.


Krice heard the -whoosh- of Hellfire's flames and his eyes followed the sound to track Lionel. With smaller dinosaurs and a magical legendary sword to contend with, the Allosaurus is pushed off its feet, allowing the silver-haired enigma to switch from defense and evasion to offense. Using one of the dinosaur's knees as leverage, Krice leapt from the ground, parried off the creature's leg with his left foot, and landed at a diagonal low on its belly. As the creature began to trash that it may find it footing, the enigma released his usual sword from its sheath and drove it into the beast's unprotected belly-flesh, injuring it while anchoring himself. He ran up the bulging mass from groin to throat, dragging his sword through leathery skin with an accompanying spray of blood flanking his progress like macabre fireworks. Every muscle in each arm was taut and engaged, the warrior's efficient body using momentum -behind- strength to fell the beast hopefully before it could rise at all. Fighting alongside allies you couldn't see felt almost the same as fighting alone, but for his sharp senses; the sound of Penelope's racing heartbeat, the roar of Hellfire, the footfalls of Frostmaw's team dancing a deadly tango with devils from the west. In his periphery, Krice caught sight of Uyeer soldiers but he couldn't watch them for long; undoubtedly the Allosaurus thrashed to make a grab for the warrior, but he pivoted on its gaping torso and descended at a sharp jump for the ground below, thereafter distancing himself before the saurian's tail and claws could deal damage. It wasn't until he was clear of the large predator that he felt the telltale wetness of blood beneath his left sleeve, indicating an open wound to the concealed part of his arm. Dealt by a saurian claw during his attack, it must have been superficial, for it did not hinder his movements. In this moment of post-attack, the warrior attuned his senses to his allies, attempting to pinpoint their locations through the cacophony of battle not only with his heightened senses, but with his ability to detect magic; in this case, their invisibility cloaks.


Kreekitaka 's soldier had not expected the wall of fire to appear. His commander saw it as well, and when the dinosaurs became defensive rather than choosing to run away, the soldier opted instead to go around, provide an opening for them to escape, and then guide them on to join the main pack. Meanwhile, Kree himself was listening to the sounds of crashing back behind them of more dinosaurs approaching--this is why he'd wanted to be a large force. With all of his theropod-riders busy rounding up the edmontonia, he left the job to them and turned his scorpion to face this new creature, whatever it may be. Hefting his lance, scorpion-talons raising, the battle-hardened war-mount was unafraid of the fire and continued to march towards whatever this thing was--no matter how big it turned out to be.


Lionel is a whir of motion as Krice slices clear across a deadly predator’s exposed underbelly. The allosaurus does thrash -- oh, how it thrashes. But it thrashes in vain. Krice wasn’t wrong. They’ve become bona fide dinosaur hunters. The mad beast’s entrails rip free from its corpse-becoming body as it collapses without fanfare, its eyes dazed and confused. It never even stood a chance. The quadrupeds, all of them save for Rorin’s unwilling host, are sent like lambs to the Uyeer-shepherded herd. They’re frenzied and flailing, and they might just inflict mortal damage to those shepherds if the Uyeer aren’t impeccable about their operation, but they’re precisely where the king has willed it. Rorin’s own anxious ride is reeling to remove him but its club-tail can’t reach the top of its spine. Rorin at last has dislodged his whip, and with a nimble flip the man lands beside the creature and not so far from Lionel, nor Emrith, nor Ameno. Together, they stand, though who could say? Four invisible men. Lionel has only half a heartbeat to register Penelope’s medical heroism. ‘You’ll do fine,’ he’d told her. He wasn’t wrong, but how right was he to bring her here? This is insane. Lionel snaps a twig beneath his booted foot in a patternable enough motion to alert Krice to their coordinates, but whatever he’d had in mind thereafter is utterly abandoned when those far-off noises of unseen dinosaurs become an unfathomable stampede. It happens so fast, how could any of them have known? Northern Sage Forest, it had been said by forward scouts, had a saurian problem. Children’s skeletons found sprawling. Flesh pecked apart like so many vultures. Now the Warrior’s Guild and its allies will know why. Dozens of saurians break in from all around them. Pack instinct. A brachiosaurus, its neck as long and high as the Frostmaw Fort is tall and its legs like tremendous tree trunks, charges in from the west. Seven spry raptor-esques, a hook on each foot that would slice a man’s belly like a knife to a piñata and mouths breathing flame before them, move in deadly tandem from the east. From the northern reaches, three more allosaurs. And the south is flooded with two-foot-tall devils with claws like razorblades. They’re cornered. Pinned. Trapped down and beaten. None of this makes sense. None of this makes a lick of sense. A brachiosaur, moving alongside its mortal foes? Raptors allied with a single allosaurus, let alone three?


Lionel | In a crushing vertigo, Knight-Commander Lionel O’Connor is made immediately aware as to why the countryside never stood a chance. Home is a pen. Humanity, cattle. They’re stuck inside the gates of the saurian war machine. With a single stifling breath, the hero rips his cloak free and smacks into Ameno’s draconian shoulder to do the same. Then Rorin and Emrith follow suit. “We make ourselves known,” he’ll scream at the top of his lungs, and every single saurian glares at him with abject malice. “And the healers -will- escape.” It’s not much of a plan. A lot is left unsaid. Kreekitaka’s scorpion had -better- come in handy. And with a great sweeping rush, he and his comrades charge forth into the fray even as the fray charges inward to ensnare them. Times like these beg miracles for men and women of courage. Miracles are rare, but they’ve been known to happen. On occasion. In a forward slash toward the raptor pack, Lionel takes one’s head clear off just as the rest of them breathe their flame. But Hellfire is billowing blood red to match that flame. And all those flames, well, they do tend to accumulate. Ameno to the left of him, Rorin to the right, Catal’s last prince’s face contorts in horror. He looks to Krice, praying Krice will look back in understanding. And then he screams again. “Everyone, -run!-” He drops Hellfire to the scattered sticks beneath his feet as he streaks across the field, his allies Emrith and Ameno and Rorin all by his side as fast as their legs can carry them. He rushes past Penelope, then stands straight in front of her. With luck, none of these hellbound dinosaurs will see her. They’ll gather, and gods willing, Krice and Kreekitaka will, too. Hellfire’s magic-infused fire matches the raptors’ flame-breathing talents spark for spark in a brilliant white-hot explosion that sears half the saurian fleet to the bone. Smoke and ashes and startled faces are the order of the day. The stampede has stopped. Scrambled. And now they’re panicking. Whatever his friends and crustacean “business partner” will do next, it’s prime hunting season.


Penelope helped the warrior stand up after patching him together. “Go, now, we’ll stitch you up later,” she murmurs. The half elf is now gazing towards Krice, watching him thrash the underbelly of the predator. Every move is noted, and something makes him itch. The itch of checking each warrior after this is over, well, if they make it. The beasts come from different directions and the two healers are being surrounded. The human’s breath falters. “Shh,” the half elf soothes. Penelope is in horror. The risk was too high. ‘We make ourselves known’ the doe-eyed girl looks towards Lionel and the others who rip off their cloaks. Something throbs within her. Healing was a sickening sport. Was she willing to play? ‘And the healer’s –will- escape’ this throws the woman in a circle, she is dizzy, she is scared, yet not for her own self. Finn ushers her in a different direction and out of her horrified state as raptors stomp their way. The only thing that Penelope catches a glimpse of the head of a beast being chopped off. Gore. Nothing but a gaped mouth. As the warriors rush back towards them, and Lionel stands in front of her, her anxiety implodes. The woman is now frozen. Fingers are tingling, vision a blur. This was no place for her. She was not ready for something like this and the half elf whispers ever so softly, maybe Lionel could hear them, maybe not. Either way, the cue was there, Penelope was gone. “Breathe, Miss Halifax,” but she could not. She was terrified, almost useless. Thank gosh for the calm half elf.


Krice wasn't one for fanfare, or doing things that were crazy and made no sense. Yet here he was, fighting deadly overgrown lizards in a forest that should only have been home to pretty elves and harmless chirping birds. What a stuff up. Lionel's click drew his attention toward the legendary hero and he backtracked from the fallen Allosaurus to linger closer to his allies. He gazed briefly in Kreekitaka's direction, at the proud, fearless advance of his scorpion mount toward the feral cries in the distance, and at once he decided that lying in weight was an option that didn't fit him well. Aware of the battle novice in the area, the warrior called out, " You'll be fine, Penelope. Be brave. We need you." All at once the distant stampede became a tangible one, a collection of saurians converging upon the location of Frostmaw's task-force. Krice glanced over, noting the gray and rather animated trunk of a tree moving away from the others. Wait, that was a leg... Craning his neck, he spared a moment to gaze up at the body of the creature to whom such a massive limb belonged and found himself losing a bit of stoicism for the sake of experiencing awe. Gargantuan herbivores be damned, however, for it was slow and relatively harmless until it drew closer, while there were much faster, deadlier enemies on approach. Almost in tandem with Lionel's attack, Krice lifted an elbow and readied his katana to slice through the chest of a rapidly-nearing raptor, taking a tree-pocked pathway to get to the beast. The creature spilled over the katana in a screaming heap, flames falling from its jaw to spill across the ground under it like liquid, singing grass only a few feet away from Penelope and Finn. The heat seared Krice's right sleeve and left his toned arm marginally burnt, a niggling sting that he could ignore. Trees cracked under pressure of Kreekitaka's weapon, which indeed was sending invisible signals to the warrior of its gathering strength. Though his skill, speed, and battle prowess were unmatched among humans, and even among some more supernatural beings, these vast magic-wielders were in a class of their own. Krice could kill swathes of enemies in mere moments, but he'd have to move from one to the another to deliver the fatal blows, or wait for them to come to him; or throw daggers or shoot crossbow bolts but even -still-, it was all limited. With -magic-, Kreekitaka and Lionel could explode their intentions all over the park and hit every target while standing stock still. It was a good skill to have, but one that ensured that he had to move out of the way lest he become collateral fodder. Krice was on the verge of attacking another dinosaur when the flames of Hellfire told of an impending attack. Listening to Lionel's subsequent warning, the warrior held his katana rigidly in his right hand, withdrew the other, newer weapon from its sheath against his back, and distanced himself from the huddled heroes - now back within plain sight - and away from Hellfire's range. The explosion was impressive, but Krice kept his wits sharp and his focus forward. The surviving saurian stragglers were his targets next, and he ran at them with both katanas held behind him alongside his spine, out of the way, keeping him streamlined. He slashed at a smaller beast, one that took but a single blow to kill, and then realized that he hadn't yet felt the release of accumulated energies from Kreekitaka's weapon. As the saurian fell at his feet, the enigmatic man shot a look toward the Crab-King, looking - and sensing - for a sign that said release was impending.


Lionel uses fire. At Kreekitaka’s battle cry, he’ll cock a brow and grit his teeth with a half-stuffed sigh. But for this one fleeting moment, his focus is Penelope Halifax. Physically, she’s here. That’s all he can afford to be thankful for now. “Had I known,” he starts, blinking and then shaking his head -- nervously. “I’m so sorry, Penelope. This will end soon. Heed Krice.” A pause. “We need you.” Lionel is back in the game. He slides on one foot and swivels around to examine the carnage that Ishaarite spirit of vengeance ‘Halycanos’ hath wrought within the magic steel of Hellfire. “Well done, partner.” Lionel swallows hard. The sword. He needs the sword. Kreekitaka demands; Icarus abides. “Rorin, on my six. Ameno, stay with the healers. Emrith… you do you.” Rorin flicks a bead of sweat from his cheek and realizes it’s his blood. Just a scratch, though. Just a scratch. “Aye, aye,” the young man retorts, and Ameno nods in silent bidding. “I need that sword,” Lionel will tell Rorin as the two of them rush forward into the fray. The whole world seems to have gone up in ignominy all around them; they dodge tails and claws, swoop low beneath the flock, turn corner and flee from the bite-sized and vicious creatures to their left. Rorin’s whip cracks without end, snapping into predators and making them his prey. “So you do,” Rorin replies with an inadvertent shout, and he brings those little devils to chase him. Lionel has no time to react -- the show must go on. Those two remaining name-unknown guild footsoldiers, the ones still in battle and not tended by Penelope, take up the course to either side of the Catalian, staving off foes as the presently-unarmed Knight-Commander keeps to the gallop. He can’t streak across the forest with flames without the blade that makes it so. At last he’ll reach it, and neither footsoldier falls. The miracle without end. In a leap that turns into a roll, Lionel hoists the sword from stone and rises again. Krice isn’t far. Then again, neither is a gargantuan scorpion and the king who rides it. “Krice, stay close,” Lionel asks. It’s a question to a friend, no order to a subordinate. And then he’ll charge one last mammoth fire to his weapon, and it -will- be ready for Kreekitaka’s decree.


Kreekitaka had to admit that some pretty strange shenanigans are afoot here. Especially the quadruped running in the middle of all these predators. Perhaps it felt that its great size protected it from them. Perhaps the entire pack was running in fear of something else--something which was chasing it all the way here from Venturil. Regardless, as soon as Kree saw that particular behemoth he knew that was the one he wanted. He had predators which he could breed, easily. What he needed was this giant. Vindicator wouldn't be able to pull it unconscious, but fortunately it was large enough that Kree's toxin wouldn't knock it wholly out--probably just make it docile and easy to maneuver. And its neck was long enough that wrapping a rope around it should be easy. The trouble would be separating it from the others. All those predators could be a nuisance for Vindicator, who was roughly the same length as one of those allosaurs but had considerably better armor. Kree set his shield aside and drew his jawblade--he didn't want to reveal its power, not here, not after what Lionel had said about trying to keep things quiet, but he didn't seem to have a choice. He ordered Vindicator into a charge, straight toward the middle of the enemies, and as he did so he held the jawblade out, making sure to hit every tree branch he could with the flat side of it on the way there. The weapon absorbed more and more and more kinetic energy from each hit--Krice might be able to feel the energy in that particular weapon compacting, intensifying, growing denser, preparing for some kind of collosal release. "Whoever uses fire!" he called out, as loudly as he could. "Ayign wiHHHTH me, an'--" Seemed Kree had some very interesting plan up his sleeve for dispersing the creatures, but whatever he was about to do paled comparison to the explosion which lit up a good portion of the animals and broke apart their charge. Well... that made his shockwave rather less impressive, by comparison, and since they were scattering and fleeing, he no longer felt the need to use it. He lowered the weapon and put it back in its holster--the energy collected within would gradually leak back out, most likely, though since it didn't take too long to charge back up that was alright. No, what he wanted now was that sauropod. Time to snag it before the others did. Grabbing a length of rope, he ordered Vindicator to charge towards the creature and--actually, the shockwave might come in handy after all. Kree shifted position, moving back to stand on the tip of Vindicator's trident-stinger, and issued a clatter-command. With a hiss of effort, Vindicator's tail snapped forward, launching Kree up--and just to make sure he had the altitude he needed, Kree once more drew his jawblade, pointed it roughly down/behind him so as to avoid hitting Vindicator with the backwash, and pressed the big blue button. With a noise like a tremendous thunderclap, a near-visible pulse of raw force exploded out of the weapon, hurling him farther and faster into the air, up and up. He turned the jawblade around so the toothed side was facing his prey and he brought it down, digging the teeth of it into its hide and locking him onto it long enough to climb fully onto its back. The lance was thrust swiftly and cleanly into the base of its long neck, a brief and small puncture that Kree hoped would avoid any major arteries yet still sufficiently spread the toxin through its system. He dropped the rope, coiled around his shoulder, to Vindicator, and clattered out a command for it to grab said rope and start marching. If the land people had explosions of that magnitude, they could handle a few panicked predators. If any were to come near, Kree would swing his jawblade against the side of his brachiosaurus--yes, he was already calling it his--until it was good and ready again, and then blast them in the face with another concussive shockwave blast.


Krice watched Kreekitaka's ascension from scorpion to air to brachiosaurus all while taking a few steps back to draw nearer to Lionel and his two soldiers. The pulse of the Crab-man's weapon sent vibrations through the earth and up the warrior's legs, but he was not directly affected by it otherwise. Still, it was an impressive trick to harbour. With Kree seemingly commanding the largest beast of them all, and Lionel charging Hellfire for another surge, Krice sheathed his usual katana and transferred the other to his left hand, gripping the hilt firmly. " Help the Uyeer," he said to Lionel, which was more a message that he wouldn't be staying close than an actual order. Stepping away from the fire-wielding man, the enigma moved toward Penelope and Finn's tree where he lingered just a few metres out, his new sword at the ready, poised to attack any remaining stragglers that drew too close.


Lionel and battlefield confusion are a rare enough mixture. But here in raw chaos, anything can happen. The Uyeer King is ascending the tallest creature that may have ever lived -- there will be no joint blast between crustacean and Catalian today. ‘Help the Uyeer.’ Lionel watches the mogul monarch successfully subdue a brachiosaurus as he hears those words from the swift-wayward silver-haired enigma. “I think he’s on the up and up,” is all Lionel can say in return, and then Hellfire is held in perfect horizontal across from his chest with those fresh red flames turning emerald-shaded. The footsoldiers block nearby creatures from their leader with impressive resilience. Elsewhere, Rorin is toppling the opposition; flame-breathers try to end him, but a flame aura pendant protects. The paladin drops hand bombs left and right, blowing up saurians like it’s going out of style. Ameno fires shots from a fresh-drawn crossbow, hitting every third target -- an ample feat given the circumstances. Emrith goes cloaked again, lightfootedly traipses through the war, and slashes the necks of beasts which never see him coming. Penelope breathes. At Finn’s insistence, the girl breathes. She looks to the footsoldier whose life she has saved. She stares at him, blinking. Her breaths return. It’s something important beyond words with which to focus upon. Finn places his hand to her shoulder. Lionel prepares for the grand finale. Now that Hellfire is his once more, those familiar super-speedy flames streak behind his boots, carrying the man outside what was once the perfect imprisonment for then-doomed heroes. Outside the shattered perimeter, he swallows hard and blasts his infernal torpedo straight up into the dimming sky. One blast becomes a hundred. Tiny specks of emerald light, incinerating to the touch, rain down upon the forest but in bold precision. This is the true wrath of Hellfire. This is the power Lionel has dared not use since the end of Catal -- and before that, the end of the Dark Immortals. It sizzles through saurian flesh… and nothing more. No allies are harmed. No Uyeer, for that matter. All particles target deftly. It’s surreal -- overpowered. Lionel falls to his knees; it’s the one strike that takes a toll. Now it’s him who can’t breathe. The world is vivid greens and he isn’t even sure why. He gasps for air that will not come, Hellfire charging down. “Kreek…” he gasps, but he can’t say it. “Krice… Kricesakes…” now he’s talking nonsense. “Save Penel…” Something stirs. Halycanos, for the first time in seven years, takes over. The man’s eyes go red and he steps through saurian remains and an atmosphere freckled in emerald sparks, unfazed. The rest of the equation. When Lionel cannot go on, Halycanos can. If ever there were blatant reason the man is still alive after all these conflicts, it’s here, and it’s obvious. Eyes revert to azure and Lionel is back just as he comes within range of the battle party. All warriors now assembled in front of the healers. But something is wrong all over again -- in the distance, shouting. Human shouting, startled and unnerved. “Larketians,” Lionel says, coming up beside Krice and the rest of them. He draws the stone and gazes over to Kreekitaka and his horde. The crab king wins what the crab king can wrangle. “It’s time to leave. The High Priestess said to smash the amulet… so that’s just what we’ll do.” He drops it; it shatters. Nothing happens. Awkward. Well, she said nothing would happen. Now they wait.


Kreekitaka was not moving particularly fast. Even though his creature had titanic stride length, it was being led by a different, smaller animal that -didn't-, and furthermore it was now basically half-asleep. So when Kree saw that blast go up, he watched it with concern, smacking his jawblade on his creature's side a few times to prepare it, just in case he needed to parry the blow--when suddenly, a precision strike. That was... definitely not something Kree wanted to go up against. He peered down at the fight--he was pretty sure that was Lionel who'd done that particular deed. Certainly a worthy foe to be fought in the future. Note to self, bring heat resistance potions. As for the dinosaurs--well, there weren't too many left. The few that might have escaped were too small for Kree to care about. What he -did- mind was the shouts of the--Larketians, Lionel said. That could prove interesting, especially if they had questions about the fireworks display. Fortunately, Kree was riding on an incredibly large animal and would probably manage to make a good distraction for the guards while he was patrolling. Should they ask, he was simply out taking his pet for a leisurely walk. Where did he get it? Same place he got the other big pet he'd brought back to Larket before. Was he planning on keeping it in the zoo? Not this time, he had a better place for it. What was all the thunder and flashes of light? Oh that! Other dinosaurs had followed him from the wildlands and attacked him, so he drove them off with his magic jawblade. Hopefully these would be sufficient answers for the guards--as much as Kree wanted to tell the truth of the matter, he was also aware that he needed to maintain some element of secrecy and to mask Lionel and company's presence here.


Leone was struggling with the searing sensation that had crept up her arm in the moments following the portal's opening. And now the troops had deployed (what little there were of them), the petite blacksmith was left to wait. The marking of time would not be done in the lone store room in Frostmaw, however. The diminutive cleric had departed as well, stepping into the grey, lifeless plane between life and death to linger, waiting for the signal from the Warrior's Guild leader. Time is non-existent in the world beyond - unless you're waiting. So the flicker of magic, the little spark of ethereal energy that flares into vivid red marking the location in the other plane where Lionel has smashed the lion-shaped amulet is received with a hastening from the petite plover. The motions are all too familiar now: the drawing of a line, crisp and blue, the thunderous clamour, and then the doorway into the hazy, cinereal realm. She stands on the inside, peering out at the calamity taking place in the living world, flush with color. The evacuation initiated and the first door open, it only takes a moment for the High Priestess to create a second, ushering those escaping the fray through the land of spirits and into the realm of the living, depositing them firmly in Frostmaw, once more.


Krice was covered in dinosaur blood for the third time in as many days, and he reeked of dead reptile. His burned arm was sizzling, a delayed progression of the fire that had burned it on its way out of a dying raptor's mouth. Lingering near Penelope and Finn, Krice had the perfect vantage point from whence to deliver death blows to any of the few remaining saurians who, in their panic to escape, strayed to close. His movements were precise and efficient, a bipedal killing machine for the times, and he appeared focused and attentive despite his injuries and the energy expended throughout the evening. Every so often, he glanced toward the brachiosaurus-riding Kreekitaka, watching the Crab-King retreat from the area, and he was left with a sense of relief that the battle hadn't included the sea-man as an -foe- rather than -friend-. Through their few but frequent battles together, Krice had realized the power of Hellfire and knew to steer clear of it, so he remained exactly where he was as Lionel lifted the fabled weapon to initiate its ability. What he hadn't expected was the ensuing firestorm that rained down across the forest, searing through leaves directly overtop the remaining saurians to harm and kill them. -Only- them. The accuracy of such a wide-spread magic intriguing at worst, enrapturing at best, but his mindset was on the tail-end of the battle - and escaping before Larket could finally react to the roar and crash of dinosaurs on a rampage. When Lionel fell, Krice sheathed his new sword and took a brisk step forward to assist, but he was halted by the shifting atmosphere round the Knight-Commander, the morphing disposition, the rejuvenated energy - the red eyes. In the short time they had known one another, the enigma had never even caught -glmpses- of such a being residing within the legendary warrior, so it was with minor trepidation that he looked on. The distant call of human voices in the north drew Krice's ear and he knew that Larketians were advancing upon the battle. Heeding Lionel's earlier call to get Penelope to safety, the warrior shouted to her half-elf tutor, " Finn - go. Go go go." And then Lionel himself returned, smashed the amulet, and they all waited for nary a minute before that familiar portal was opened once more. Krice directed Finn, who was furthermore ushering Penelope, toward that portal and then sought to assist the injured survivors through as well, moving as quickly as their wounded bodies would allow so as not to tax Leone unnecessarily. Once everyone was inside, he stood opposite the portal door and urged Lionel to enter ahead of him, presumably the last two on the battlefield - as was their way. " I can't go in," he murmured to his fellow warrior, though his eyes drifted across the priestess on the other side and his strength faltered at the sight of her. So injured, so drained. " Make sure she rests. I'll be back soon." The warrior turned, his adrenaline spurring him to jog away from the scene to the south.


Lionel watches in wait. A portal rips open and it’s no small irony that a man with a missile-sword for a weapon feels fear pulse through at the sight of such magic. ‘It’s not Khasad,’ he reminds himself repeatedly, internally. Pain sears through his body like a storm. He grits his teeth in agony, but holds firm his warrior’s stance. He’s a commander. He can’t lose the command. Halycanos may have been becalmed, but the spirit of fire will never assume control without pain to the host. It’s not a thing Lionel had thought he would ever again have great need to endure… but a shadow falls again over Lithrydel, slowly but surely. He can sense it. Macon’s War, Kreekitaka’s War, cogs in the wheel of the fates to come. Penelope exits. Finn exits. Three footsoldiers exit. Ameno and Emrith exit both. Somehow, -all- have survived. They’d called it a suicide mission. The Warrior’s Guild proved them wrong. Rorin bows his head to the remaining men. Lionel can’t think straightly enough to bow back. When Rorin’s gone, Krice tells the Catalian to depart without him. “What? Krice, you --” and just like that the enigma’s gone, too. Footsteps in the vague distance; the Larketians are creeping closer. ‘He’ll be safe,’ a voice, Halycanos’ voice, rings through Lionel’s ears, but it hurts. His ears throb from the dizziness he still feels. Kreekitaka and his Cretaceous imperial steed are seen some fifty trees ahead, his troops gathering what few stray saurians remain. Lionel’s eyes shift to those Larketian footsteps one last time and he leaps through the portal. Destination: home.