RP:Siege on the Academy

Part of the The Ice Plague Cometh Arc

Royal Academy of Aramoth

Hildegarde’s men had already begun rushing off towards the Academy of Aramoth, the elite school of training and military prowess that Frostmaw so proudly hosted. But the dragon herself was not amongst those who were running off to battle, nor was she already at the scene ahead of everyone else. In fact, she was most certainly lagging behind. If anyone were to be in the throne room, such as a renowned terramancer, they might have seen the dragon stretch to around twenty-seven feet tall and slip into the set of armour built specifically for the mortal embodiment of Aramoth. This was what Hilde was doing while her men ran off to war, she was pretending to be a god in order to give them strength; to embolden them and to terrify her enemies. The wyvern growled and snuffled at her, “Shhh!” she urged him gently, “Please, we have to go!” she whispered, though her voice was muffled and awkward through the greathelm designed to keep her identity secret. The wyvern hushed and lowered some, as if accepting the now giant Hilde as his rider. “You need only fly over the scene. I shall do the rest,” she promised, ready to take her seat on his back and fly to war.

Dami had unfortunately missed the transformation. She had been in Rynvale for a full day, visiting both Caitlyn and Hanan. She knew it was risky to leave when the tension of war was so high, but she had priorities outside this war. The visit was short, but sweet; it broke her heart to see the little girl in tears. All she wanted was to spend time with the elf, but so often was she out on business. Dami left her with a kiss and a heart shaped pebble, another promise she'd be back before she knew it. As far as Dami knew, nothing had changed in her absence. She landed some distant up the road, near the gates and and was flagged down by two guards. There she was informed, and there is where she marched in a hurry towards the throne room. Maybe if she were quick, she could catch Hildegarde before she left- knowing the silver, she was probably already charging in at the front line. It wasn't until she came around the bend, she'd slow Rocky to a stop. Sight of another wyvern had him excited, but sight of the creature in armor had Dami cautious.

Hildegarde, being a saurian, caught the familiar scent of both Rocky and Dami. Turning her head to look at them, “Dami!” she said, smiling behind her greathelm. Of course, her voice was hard to recognise behind the muffling and stifling helm, her smile gone unnoticed by the masking metal. “No time,” she said, “the academy is under siege!” she warned, patting the neck of the wyvern. “Either join me or stay safe,” she said, refraining from attempting to command her to stay away; to stay safe at all costs. The wyvern shrieked shrilly before taking to the sky with the giant version of Hilde on its back, struggling some with the weight, much to Hilde’s guilt.

Dami too, vampiric senses and all, caught a familiar scent. It was Hildegarde's, but who was this? She put a hand up and pressed gently against Rocky's snout, calming him while the silver in a god's armor called out. It took Dami a second to realize what exactly was going on, but when that faint, familiar voice came echoing out, she'd nod. It was time; it was here. The war had begun. She'd glance back and give the wyvern a single nod, to which he'd growl back. That unspoken language between body language and eyes was all she'd need to explain to him what it was that was about to happen. Dami watched while Hilde took the skies and joined her shortly after. She rode on Rocky's shoulders, securely fastened to his specially designed saddle. The wyvern knew where to go should it fail to keep up with Hilde's mount, but Rocky had his own little reputation for being one of the fastest things around. She was suited up, with goggles on tight, and her jacket zipped up. She'd wait until they were at the fight before withdrawing Hallowed.

Hildegarde’s wyvern carried her as far as the Snowless Training Yard, meaning they were only *just* ahead of the men running out towards the area to meet their enemies in glorious combat. With a pat of her hand, “Here!” she cried to the gracious wyvern who carried her immense weight. The beast turned itself upside down and the knight allowed herself to drop from the wyvern entirely, looking like a madwoman to those who knew who was behind the armour and looking like a god dropping from the heavens to those who believed in the disguise. It took Hildegarde a few moments to adjust to the weight of the armour, trying her best to be the right way around before landing. She wanted to land on her feet, not her head. Her feet and legs could take the sheer force of such a drop, her head would probably go ‘pop’. But she was, indeed, falling head first! Flipping once, then twice and then a third time, she was finally falling feet first – and right on time too. With a thunderous crack, the giant impostor landed on the ground; cracking some of the icy earth and disrupting the march of exile soldiers. Some dead, some living. All eyes settled on the supposed figure of Aramoth. Standing upright, the knight heaved up the warhammer that went hand in hand with the God of War and looked out across the sea of enemies. Putting weight on her right ankle was hurting. Her landing was not as perfect as a god could have made it, but nobody needed to know she was hurt. She could hear the troops of Frostmaw not far behind, screaming: “Aramoth!” “Frostmaw!” “Satoshi Queen!” all to instil fear in the hearts of the foe. With a might roar, the knight swung the warhammer directly for the side of the nearest exile and threw herself into the fight.

Dami had the massive wyvern circle the battlefield, far higher than Hildegarde and her's had been. She pulled a small telescope from within a saddle pocket and leaned over the edge while the beast coasted on thermals. She watched this creature in magnificent armor tumble without grace, only to land in the middle of the fray. Dami could only assume this was the plan she'd been talking about. So this was it, it was finally here; months of brewing, weeks of boiling, little bits of foam had been dripping over the edge and leaving the fire to hiss, but nothing could prepare them for the moment that kettle tipped over. Dami studied the field carefully, she took note of the terrain, it's men, their positions and decided with precise accuracy, now was the time to make her entrance. She had Rocky dive in till he was a few hundred feet above the yard before unbuckling her straps at the thighs. She'd look down at his left eye as it glanced up; she gave him a kiss to the back of his neck and nodded once. With that, the wyvern would do a gentle barrel roll and dump his rider overboard. He knew his role in the grand scheme of things, he would stay near for when the time was right. Dami fell backwards for the longest time, the icy rush of frost and wind collected on her jacket and when she'd land, she'd land like white like a ghost. Would this add to the scare tactics at present? It wasn't until she was about a hundred feet above Hilde that she turned, tucked and aimed with grace for a flat spot of yard beside her. Dami landed with a second thunderous crack. The ground around her shattered and pointed up in a full three hundred and sixty degree circle. It looked like a flower of broken earth had bloomed, spiked pedals and all- only in the middle was a terramancer standing. Plates of seismic destruction fell away and quickly she exited the dent she made. Hallowed was brought out with a swift explosion of black, chaotic energy, all of which circled her and gathered in the guise of a black halberd. Dami took one look to the charging Aramoth and twirled her weapon; this was it.

The exiles had already begun their assault on the academy, having managed to take it unawares and get the jump on the army of Frostmaw. Storik had led them here, foaming at the mouth if he had the capacity to even produce saliva these days. His Forsaken Monks and soldiers had marched slowly towards the academy, under the cover of darkness and a horrendous blizzard, utilising both to mask their approach. The Desert Legion troops had been running drills, late in the night, under the instruction of their Frost Giant teacher; learning the specific methods of expertly slaying Ice Devils. So absorbed into their training, they hadn’t noticed the approach until a massive, grotesquely blue and rotten hand gripped a legionnaire by the neck and squeezed so hard his head nearly popped right off. Their teacher barely had the time to herd some of the class back into the strong walls of the academy for shelter, knowing full well he’d be outnumbered. He attempted to send many ravens with word of the attack, but undead and living archers alike shot down each bird. Only one managed to escape their wrath – as injured as it was – and deliver the message to the city. So here they were: the doors of the academy broken down, exile giants slowly heading towards it; some patrolling the outskirts of the school to ward off any rescuing force while Storik worked his evil will inside the school. As the warhammer of Aramoth came crashing down, a distanced soldier screamed, “Attack!” and rallied the force against the supposed god and the ghostly looking terramancer. Of course, some – even in death – were a bit reluctant to go head to head against Aramoth; their patron god! Three charged in the direction of Hildegarde and seven went for Dami. Better off going against the non-god, right?

Hildegarde’s warhammer had only struck the shoulder of the exile giant, forcing her to raise it up again as he spun away off-balance, aiming to strike down at his head and end him swiftly. With a brutish roar, she swung the hammer down and only *just* missed; crashing hard into his shoulder with a vicious crunch and crumple of bone, muscle and everything that held it together. The exile screamed as he sank to the ground, writhing pitifully. As much as Hilde would like to put him out of his misery, her attention is focused upon the oncoming forces. She is aware that more are chasing after Dami than herself, out of fear, and that the cavalry of the army wouldn’t arrive on the field for a few more minutes. “War!” she boomed loudly, leaping over the writhing body of the exile to face the others. Her warhammer swung in a wide arc, hoping to catch some who dared to get a bit close to Dami. She may be in the middle of a battle, but her personal feelings meant she would do whatever was within her power to protect those she had given her word to. An exile stepped in at the side, swinging a sword for her back.

Dami couldn't remember the last time she'd made an entrance like that. Better yet, she couldn't remember a time she made an entrance like that- when it mattered most. Was was worse than a god falling from the skies? Something hitting the ground with the same force right beside it. Dami started towards the exiles at a casual pace, but when a javelin the size of a small tree trunk came hurling through the air, she'd change her attitude right quick. It had been a while since she fought anything, so getting back into the groove of war would take a minute or two; or in his case, an exile for Hallowed to feast on. She was tiny compared to these warriors, a mere spec in the middle of a storm. If she were to make some noise, she'd have to get creative; loud- destructive. Dami would need to bring out the big guns, something she hadn't done in quite some time. To say she was rusty was an understatement. She started first by breaking into a small job, then shortly after, a wild sprint. Hallowed was held at the base of the staff while it's savage head drug in the dirt behind her. She would twist the staff until the blade caught along the earth, and with a little push she sank it entirely. She must have ran about fifteen feet before reaching back with both hands to scoop the weapon up like she were steering a boat, only now with a massive chunk of collected earth. The terramancer worked her skill in compacting the earth until it were a massive, bludgeoning chunk of rock concealing the haldberd's bladed head; in short, she created a make-shift war hammer of her own. She'd spin once, twice, and on the third rotation she let go, sending it soaring head first into the chest of a charging exile. The sheer amount of momentum was enough to stop him in his tracks while the crack of bones and armor caved inwards against his chest. Dami followed up mere seconds, jumping up to kick off his knee, and from there, topple his body backwards. As he fell, she used him as a ramp to bring herself a few feet off the ground for her next attack. The rock fell away from the tip of the halberd's staff and as it did she'd leap off the giant's shoulders. Normally she'd come down on the next, but seeing as they were too tall for that, she'd fly into the next exile with the hook of the blade catching at his neck. She used the momentum of her body to swing the rest of the staff around, and with it, she ripped half of his throat open- his head fell to one side, but never detached. She kicked off his shoulders while he too, fell back only to roll away when hitting the ground. She hadn't even a chance to stand when a massive foot came from her side and planted a row of armored toes into her entire side. She went flying.

Hildegarde’s armour screeched as the blade ran against it, her forward step that let her smash a foe with her warhammer allowed her to escape the deadly tip of the blade. Spinning round, the giant knight swung the warhammer low and tore the leg right off the exile! The soft, rotting flesh of the undead exile was easy to tear away; leaving a stench as it went flying across the field. The exile hobbled there for a moment, one hand outstretched, reaching for her as if to balance itself before falling forward and attempting to wriggle towards Hilde. The Silver roared as she brought her boot down and shattered the skull of the exile, sending mush, bone, gooey brain everywhere. A thunderous roar caught her attention, immediately assuming more exile troops had joined the fight or some kind of dragon had joined their cause! But to her great relief, the allied troops of Frostmaw descended upon the field in a furious storm; clashing against the exiles – living and dead alike – to sweep them away from their disguised patron god. Using this as an opportunity, the Silver darted across the field – swinging her warhammer at any foe who was too close to her or ready to strike at an ally – in order to find Dami. As the terramancer rolled across the hard earth, the knight was swiftly following: shoving her warhammer in the way of a Forsaken Monk who was ready to strike down at her with his wicked blade. The supposed god roared in the face of the monk, holding the weapon in place before shoving it upwards and kicking at the gut of the monk to force him back. No time to check if Dami was okay; the knight leapt over her and kicked at the monk again to make him stumble backwards again. Once he stumbled again, the knight swung the warhammer down directly against his skull: shattering bone and brain indiscriminately, staining the earth red. The greathelm turned to look at Dami with a silent question.

Dami felt there was a little more rust than anticipated, she coughed up blood as she tumbled in the dirt. How embarrassing, she thought; she was suppose to be fighting along side Hildegarde, not making her worry. She'd never hear the end of this, she just knew it. Then again, leave it to Dami to worry about being scolded the middle of a war; she was precious at times. When she came to a stop, she was staring up at the sky, watching exiles and soldiers rush past. She had to roll back and forth to avoid being stepped on, but one monk in particular saw fit to bring the blade down on the helpless else. Only, the god Aramoth saw it fit to deny his coupe de grace, and instead lay him out before painting the field with his brains. Dami took this chance to roll off her shoulders and hop to her feet. Hallowed disappeared in the neck of the exile she'd slain, and returned to existence in her right hand. She'd give the woman in the great helm a solid nod before spinning away. 'Thank you, Hildegarde..' she whispered, wishing the other could hear it. Her next series of attacks came quick, came fluid, and came deadly. She'd duck under a low swinging blade, only to bring Hallowed against the back of his elbow- separated easily. She dodged left to avoid a lunging spear attack, the solider had leaned in, giving it his all for the attack; a mistake, he was left vulnerable. Dami simply brought Hallowed up and knocked his arms to the sky, from there she kicked his knee inward and delivered the butt of the staff to his gut; with Dami's strength, it went right through him, piercing like a needle. Lastly, she'd spin away and dance away from his legs with fancy steps, only to lift her foot and stomp. As her boot came down, the training ground around her shook, unsettling enemies and ally alike. This gave her a split second to gauge her next set of attacks.

Hildegarde was most definitely be giving Dami a talking to after this! But that wasn’t the priority now, the students were, the teachers were: the people dependent on them were. “Crush them!” she boomed confidently to her own troops, speaking as if she truly were the god of war. That said, she changed course, heading off in the direction of the academy itself. Most of the troops had taken to the field, occupying the enemies who littered the training yard and had been drawn out from the academy. The knight had no idea what lurked inside the building, but she needed to protect those who dwelled within and put an end to this madness. Hildegarde pushed against the huge doors, but they wouldn’t budge: they had been barricaded from the inside. With a kick, she tried to open the doors, but still they wouldn’t budge. “Fine,” she huffed angrily, pressing the tip of the warhammer against the door before pulling it back and smashing it with as much force as she could muster. The door splintered, caving in slightly but it would take work and that was only infuriating the dragon. This was wasting time, this could be the difference between someone’s life and someone’s untimely death. Smashing the door repeatedly, she would not relent until it splintered enough and opened out enough for her to gain access. Stooping inside, the knight glanced around in search of an enemy. In search of… someone, anyone. But there was nothing. Blood was spattered upon the walls, entrails here and there, the stench of death was thick in the air. Her fingers curled around her warhammer as she glanced around, stifling in her helm as she searched desperately for some indication of where the leader might be.

Dami continued her relentless onslaught of devastating blows, each one dropping an exile- most crippled beyond repair, few done for good. It went without saying, Dami was one of the land's most physical strongest creatures around; due to years of extreme conditioning, extensive training, and ridiculous amounts of bodily modifications. Outwardly, her appearance didn't suggest much, but on the inside she truly was a monstrous creation. She could see glimpses of Hildegarde throughout the fray of battle, each time growing further and further away. She'd keep her in her thoughts always, but she needed to keep emotions clear off the battle, lest she find herself making a fatal mistake. She moved with the agility and alacrity of her vampiric nature; fast, nimble, precise. She dodged overhead drops of both sword and hammer, while rolling away from crushing blows that could put her out of the fight. Projectiles were avoided mostly because no one used them this close in combat. She slammed her axe tip into a giants foot and pinned it to the ground, and after abandoning the weapon, she'd kick off another knee and ascent a giant's torso. Here, she'd sit on top of his shoulders from behind- like a father would carry his daughter, only Dami wasn't the apple of anyone's eye here. In fact, she'd reach down and rip out the only apple she saw; the frost giant's adam's apple, that was. He whipped his head back and forth, and clawed at her petite figure, but as soon as his throat was opened up, his body went limp. She uncrossed her legs from around his neck and stood on his shoulders so she could dive away from his felled body as it smashed the ground. Hildegarde was too far away, she looked to be on a mission of some sort. She would stay out here for as long as she could, hopefully thinning the numbers. "Be safe, Hildegarde. You mean too much to me." Whether she said it out loud, or simply thought it, her words echoed once in her ears.

Hildegarde stalked along the corridors of the academy, jerking as she heard a pain-filled scream. Was that someone over there? She could have sworn she saw something move. Was it just shadows playing tricks on her mind? With a heavy breath, she took another step forward, closer to the heart of the facility. Her heart thundered in her chest, her breathing felt so short and contained in this helmet; she felt like she wasn’t getting enough air! Panic was setting in and it was difficult to shake off. Another step forward but with a sharp and distinct ‘crack’ as she steps upon a skinned and exposed bone, presumably a leg. The knight cringed inside but moved onwards, spotting the unconscious giant teacher and captain of the desert legion, Kadeilin, while a hunched figure huffed and puffed in the middle of the room. Her fingers flexed around the warhammer, “Surrender,” she commanded, causing the hunched figure to turn around and straighten himself; withdrawing his filthy and mismatched hands from reaching up to what appeared to be a battle horn. Storik once stood at twenty-three feet tall, but so mutilated and changed; so mismatched and stitched together he had unwillingly grown bigger, to the height of thirty-three feet. The anti-mage glowered at her, curling his large fist that somehow looked familiar to the knight. The signet ring upon it in particular, but where had she seen it before? “D… Die,” he sputtered, twitching as one eye blinked; the other didn’t have the eyelid to blink, forcing it to dry and look ragged and disgusting. If he weren’t dead, it’d be a painful existence. Even in undeath, it seemed to be a painful existence. At the command to die, the knight tensed, ready for an attack from Storik himself. She didn’t anticipate the five Ice Devils that seemed to just appear within the academy in a frosty puff of air. They struck where you couldn’t see and Hilde had only one eye.

Dami was dripping with sweat, she moved non stop in the fray of chaos and destruction. She hadn't moved like this in quite some time, and in an odd way, she was out of shape- she'd say. Quick, guile movements started to grow sluggish, she didn't so much try to avoid every attack, but instead deflect them. If a sword came swinging down above her head, she'd carefully catch it with the neck of her halberd and try to angle it away. If a hammer came crushing from the side, she'd throw up both palms and absorb the impact of the blow; not many survive even one of these, let alone a dozen. Dami's bones were as solid as stone, her body able to push far beyond what a standard human could take. The body was strong, dangerously so- it was pain that kept one from overdoing it. Once over that threshold, a whole new world of possibility was opened. Apply that to her freakish strength borrowed directly from the spirit of the earth and you had a juggernaught in the shape of a half-elf in a fur-lined bomber jacket. Dami started using her resources wisely. She'd withdraw from using direct attacks and take to using her terramancic skill. Her movement was fluid, clean- swift; her poses resembled that of modern day martial arts. She lifted her right hand, withdrew, gathered the strength needed and sent her fist forward. As she did, a jagged spire of solid earth shot from the ground and impaled a solider right through his chest; she left him there. Her right foot slid forward, toes marking a line- with a swift kick, she'd crack the field in two and split the earth down the middle. Three exiles lost their footing and when she felt limbs stumbling inside, she clapped her hands together and sealed that crack, crushing those still caught inside. It felt good to be in touch with her earth once again. Rocky was given a sharp, shrill whistle and when he dropped from the skies, she'd command him in the direction of the academy. "Rocky! Hilde! Go!"

Hildegarde couldn’t prevent the scream that left her throat when the Ice Devils set upon her, giggling hysterically as their icy talons tore at flesh and scale alike: nicking her throat and neck, only to dance away and nip at her back or hip, forever dancing out of her reach. Her gorget was nothing to this pernicious talons, sharper than they looked, meaner than any would dare to think. Storik watched with a sickeningly delighted gurgle, turning his back so he might once again reach for that horn. The knight had begun to huddle down, to protect herself from the ice devils as she drew her strength inwards; thinking quickly on how to deal with them when a little glimmer of light caught her attention, just the smallest of shimmers from Storik’s hand. That’s when she realised, the signet ring on his hand was Sabjorn’s. Sabjorn’s noble family crest: the arctic lion. Besmirched as it rested on Storik’s swollen, fat finger! A low sort of rumbling began in the back of the dragon’s throat, the woman so infuriated that she couldn’t find the words, but she most certainly could find the strength to cast the Ice Devils off her and barrel towards Storik – just in time for Rocky to pummel through the Devils and occupy them – and swing her fist for the back of his head. The anti-mage and forsaken monk turned quickly, hand enveloping Hildegarde’s gauntleted one and keeping a firm hold of it while chattering his teeth at her hungrily. The knight swung her other first up and against his gut: again and again and again and again until her first began to sink into the spongy, grey flesh that was evidently rotting; the stink that followed it was an extremely unpleasant one. Storik roared – sounding so very inhuman as he did – and allowed his hand to jerk out for Hildegarde’s throat, but the gorget protected her from instant crushing. So instead, he jammed his fat, rotting fingers up into the greathelm and tore it away from her head; exposing her as the Silver Knight of Frostmaw, not the patron god. “D-D-Die!” he chattered venomously, before swinging his fist for her head and stepping in quickly. The monks of Aramoth were masters of hand-to-hand combat, they could easily disable an opponent or overwhelm them. Storik had managed to keep a tight grip of Hildegarde, battering his fist repeatedly against her skull, so much so, it didn’t look like she was putting up much of a fight now.

Dami watched long enough as a series of heads ducked under the low swooping wyvern. It's claws opened wide and clutched at an unlucky exile, catching him at the shoulder. He was picked up with some effort, and clutched in between both of Rocky's claws. As he flew, he tore violently at the carcass in his grasp, and painted the battle below with the blood and entrails of his catch. Both halves were discarded as he carelessly crashed through the front door of the academy. What Hildegarde started, he'd finish. The doors exploded in a splintering shower of wood and debris, it didn't slow him the least bit. He'd been watching the battle from above the entire time, so he'd seen which way Hildegarde went, even if Dami hadn't. He found it odd that Dami would direct is help Hilde's way instead of her own; that meant something to him. He'd smash through the doors and come to a destructive skid down the main hall, covering the distance Hilde did moments ago. Only, like a game of ten pins, he'd barrel through five- these being Ice Devils caught in the way. He was far to large to be in this type of building, but luckily everything up here was crafted by- and for- giants. Dami meanwhile, continued to cut through the opposing forces, finding herself occasionally on her back, rolling away from equally sluggish attacks. She was getting tired, this wasn't like her. She'd sat idle for far too long, and she could hear Hallowed's grim, cracked laughter in the back of her mind. It was hard to tell which side was actually winning, but either way, she'd not stop until each and every exile was resting in a pool of cold blood.

Hildegarde’s head was pounding with each thump, a distant smashing noise and the giggling screech of devils rang faintly in her ears. She could hear this sort of ringing, too, and was beginning to feel a sort of disconnected feeling with each thump against her head. But she wouldn’t relent in her hold, not now, not that she knew they had stolen bits of her friends; bits of her people and comrades. Nothing could stop her right now! With a growl that rose into a powerful roar, the knight lifted Storik some – his weight was crippling and her strength was dwindling – and charged forward until she heard the sickening squelch of flesh being torn, feeling the anti-mage stuck against the wall as the decorative battle horn of some ancient and mighty warrior. The anti-mage stared at her, clicking what remained of his teeth together as his head twitched until cocked to the side to stare at her. “You do not have the mind to be behind this,” she hissed, stepping back with a squelch as the tip – and then some – of the horn left her shoulder; having punctured the armour clean. “Tell me!” she ordered, smashing her fist angrily against his chest. Storik’s teeth chattered against each other again as he rasped, “H…” but that was all he would utter, save a sort of gasping growl, as if he was physically incapable of saying the name, naming his master. The knight growled lowly, “You are unworthy,” she said, with a glance to the ring on his finger. Her hand reached for his, grasping the ring-finger and tugging it off with one, single motion. He only made a snapping with his teeth, fists flailing wildly to strike at her again. He clocked the side of her head and sent a wave of dizziness through her. But she did not relent, not now. Her fist pressed against his chest, “May Aramoth shun you,” she said lowly, as if it was the very worst thing in the world to wish upon a person; her fist breaking slowly through the rotten flesh of his chest to slowly sink towards his unbeating heart. The knight’s fingers reached out, curling around it to slowly squeeze it into oblivion.

Dami found herself climbing on top of a giant that fell to a thunderous kick aimed at his knee. It shattered upon impact, and tore away at all ligaments, cartilage, and bone. He fell backwards howling in pain, Dami simply crawled over him. She stood like an explorer setting foot on a brand new piece of land, and with a flag- or, in Dami's case, halberd.. she'd plant it firmly down his throat and pin his head to the ground. Her limbs fell to her side while standing hunched over; she was exhausted- everyone was. The exiles in the yard had been thinned considerably while Frostmaw's forces seemed to grow in number. The tides had turned in their favor just enough to allow her this moment in time to study the battlefield. Leaving the weapon stuck in the giant's head, she'd slide off his chest and jog towards the academy. She'd duck under lazy swipes, crawl over dozens of defeated bodies of both good and bad alike, and even stumble over a lost weapon or two. Meanwhile, Rocky tore through the ice devils with savage energy. One was crushed under his massive claw, another sent flying to explode against the wall as he bat at it with his tail. A third was crushed in between his massive jaws and spit out just before it exploded in black-ice shrapnel. His plated scales provided just enough protection to avoid being stuck, at least for now. Dami would have to inspect his entire body later. Lastly, with lunging snaps, he'd advance on a fourth ice devil as it turned to flee, running for both Hilde and the creature stuck to the wall as if they could provide protection from this menacing beast. The fifth went missing. Dami watched from the open hall, leaning on a toppled door. "Rocky! Hilde!"

Hildegarde squeezed until the heart crumbled under her grip, the monk smiling sadistically at her as his twitching came to a halt. The knight withdrew her arm, turning to spot Rocky and how he had so wonderfully dealt with the devils. “Thank you,” she breathed, exasperated as she wandered down the corridor and towards the open door that Dami was leaning upon. “Call… Call the retreat,” she said, walking forward still. If Dami didn’t move to call in the retreat, she herself would do it. “Send the healers, station guards,” she passed on commands, “quick.”

Dami had a look of fear in her eyes, Rocky, the same. He'd waste no time in approaching Hildegarde, not caring for the destruction he left in his wake. So many walls, tables, chairs, shelves.. anything in this main hall, destroyed. Wyvern's were meant to be in doors. Still, he move in behind Hildegarde and lowered his head, a dangerous thing to any drake of any kind. It left them vulnerable, gave an opening for attack.. but at the same time, showed trust. Much how Hildegarde had lowered her head for Dami, he'd lower his head for her. He nudged her with a low, rumbling growl; it was if he were saying, lean on me. Dami watched with wide eyes while this exchange happened, and saw the caustic blood dripping from Hilde's wounds. She couldn't touch her, she wanted to- but she couldn't, not again. "A-Are you sure?" Of course she was sure, Hilde wouldn't make a claim like that so lightly. With a sigh, she'd push off the door and jog towards the battlefield. Here she grabbed a Frostmaw soldier by his arm, ducked to avoid his reacting swipe, and shouted. "Retreat- Call it, help me call the retreat. We need to get the wounded out, those still able need to stay! The yard is thinning out, those in proximity heard the elf's commands, and knew damn well how close a friend she was to the silver. They could respect and follow these orders. The solider she grabbed gave a single nod and shouted. His name was James, he had blond hair, a square jaw and eyes of the darkest emerald. He moved with haste. "Get me healers, hold this front! Let's move!"