RP:The Blue-Eyed White Dragon: Part Two

From HollowWiki

Part of the Through The Looking-Glass: Return To Wonderland Arc

This is a Devout's Guild RP.

This is a Warrior's Guild RP.


Summary: Led by Rorin, the Devout's Guild, accompanied by Kasyr and Krice, are brought to Frostmaw in an effort to summon the evil necromancer Kaibbah's undead blue-eyed white dragon. The battle is fierce, but the group pulls through, leaving them with one final pillar to crumble: Kaibbah himself. (Part 1 and Part 3)

The Twisted Leafless Shaking Tree, Frostmaw

Rorin had been tracking the necromancer for weeks, watching his movements, creating a profile. It had begun as someone meticulous and methodical but became rushed and distracted, a strict schedule soon falling to disorganized chaos. Rorin thought it might be that the necromancer was losing his mind. At first he had gone and prepared many defenses, stations and bulwarks, organizing his undead soldiers into mines and other works of industry and construction. He would monitor, check, balance, internalize, clearly an intelligent magician, even some level of strategizer. And every once in a while, at first it had been nearly every other day, but now it was more random and unevenly spread, the Necromancer would come here to call the dragon. He would arrange a circle and place trinkets and recite a spell Rorin had since memorized as the beast split the everlasting blizzard that had just recently seemed to plague these parts. It would sit and talk to the necromancer in a strange unliving tongue, garbled slack and gristle, and the necromancer would instruct it more in a way that grew obsessive and driveling as time passed. The necromancer would enact some other ritual to maintain the bloated sloughing ancients rotting body or draw a secret power from it before he sent it back into the skies. Not long after, he would leave to resume his duties, which lately had been to pass back to his lair as the dragon resumes its constant watch, it’s frozen putrid breath and tattered near skeletal wings powering the blinding blizzard.

Rorin had intercepted the necromancer after one of these last rituals, ambushing the madman and fighting through his contingent of undead bodyguards. Rorin has not done so to merely test the necromancer defences, which were formidable, but also to steal some small talisman he held now as he prepared the calling ritual. It had seemed that there were few important factors to the ritual and that this talisman, the lighting of the torches, and the recitation of the spell were all the most important - the rest some habitual window dressing of protective power he assumed. Rorin would have brought up this plan and addressed the others in their positions before enacting the final right to call the dragon. He thought it imperative that this be done first before attacking the necromancer head on. The dragon was his guard dog, and more than once Rorin had been nearly ambushed in the impossibly thick snow that reigned from the skies during its flight. If this were not dealt with, it would surely come back to bite them later. He would hear out everyone’s ideas and have concocted some sort of plan- it wouldn’t be possible here to account for every angle since an ancient undead white dragon could do things of which he’d only dream of. They must simply wait and do their best when the time came.


Khitti came to this shindig on her own, as she often did with these things these days. And as per usual, she’d come all the way up to Frostmaw from Cenril by way of her lovely tikifhlee. “No, you can’t hunt now. Wait for me to get myself almost killed by another frakking dragon and -then- you can go killing things all willy nilly like your name is Quintessa.” The ridiculously large sabercat protested with a loud “Mowrowr!” but Khitti only urged it on through the wilderness. Her attention lingered in the direction of the remains of Síocháin as they went past, a frown creasing her lips, but still she urged that big cat on. When she finally got there, she’d dismount the beast some ways away from where their fight was to take place, a stern instruction given to the cat. “-Stay here-. You might have to haul me away again. Maybe if you’re lucky, I’ll die and then you can eat me.” The tikifhlee was rather pleased with this, honestly. It purred lovingly like a predator would, with the prospect of eating its owner sometime in the near future. “Yeah yeah… I love you too, you bastard.” Once she arrived in the designated spot, and the others that would join appeared as well, Rorin would instruct them on the places for them to take, and she would go where needed. As the paladin of Arkhen did his thing, Khitti was just watch and contemplate. Should she use the magic she was strongest with? Should she let Rorin take the limelight with the holy magic again? Tenbatsu Kaji glowed a dark orange from its place on Khitti’s back, the redhead looking over her shoulder as if she were looking back at a person. She’d sigh. Seika, the sprite within her sword, was no help on this matter. So, she watched. And she waited. And as usual, Khitti would act in the moment and say to hell with planning anything.


Kailani arrives in this desolate and frozen tundra to meet with the other members of the Devout's Guild, as had been requested of her. Appearances might lead those to believe that Kailani was only partially prepared to deal with this expedition. The blue haired druid has donned her usual armor, her ranseur has been secured across her back while she travels through the frozen lands to their understood meeting point. That was all well and good as there was definitely going to be a battle today, but where was cloak? Or jacket? Or some sort of item that might keep her warm in those frozen climate? How has the blue-haired woman already not frozen over or suffering from hypothermia? There were zero signs that Kailani was uncomfortable in this extreme climate. As she approaches Rorin and Khitti, she greets them with a nod. As the others trickle in? They will be acknowledged in the same fashion. The reclusive druid is not going to be the first one to offer up her two cents for a plan of action. There were plenty of others who probably had thoughts on the matter, no? But she was appreciative of the chance. Not that she'd say as much. Kailani? Talk? Not if she can avoid it.


Talyara :: Lanara enters the area alongside Talyara, still going on and on about the prank the younger witch played on her over Yule, regarding an ill-mannered dwarven date. "What the heck were you thinking, Taly?! I wish I punted that little creep over the cliff like I tried that time with Emrith!" She's scowling, clearly still salty about everything that happened over the holidays, but thankfully things ended on a good note. Tiber asked her to be his girlfriend, Callum gave her a job at his greenhouse, and she had been gifted some expensive jewelry! Today the witch is clad in runed leggings, a fitted turtleneck, hiking boots, and wears a thin utility belt around her slender waist. Lana's long hair has been parted down the center and pleated into two neat braides which rest over each shoulder, and a small backpack rests between her shoulders, likely housing a canteen of water and some medicinal items should any injuries occur. As the others arrive she greets them all with a faint smile, but it's Rorin that gets a respectful nod, and Khitti that's given a brief hug, if the redhead allows such an embrace. The last time they hadn't spoken hadn't ended on good terms, and Lana's smile fades slightly, before she returns to her sister's side. "After this we should head to the Whaler's. It's been awhile since we've made any trouble together."


Talyara told her sister to meet her at the cottage before they headed out west to meet the rest of the Devout's guild for Rorin's excursion. The little witch had missed the first gathering due to being out of the area at the time but she wanted to assist this time; despite her inabilities for offensive attacks, she figured at the very least having a healer there would be beneficial. Talyara releases a sigh when she opens the door to her sister because the pair were dressed similarly and even had matching hairstyles, twin braided pigtails hanging over their respective shoulders. Taly's leggings are fur-lined and she wears an oversized green sweater, cinched at the waist thanks to a belt. Her usual worn, leather boots adorn her feet and she likewise wears a backpack housing all types of medicinal supplies and herbs. Krice's note to avoid the deep west of Frostmaw was uncomfortably ignored--she would have told him where she was going had he been home but as he wasn't...Talyara cannot hide her smirk as Lana continues to admonish her for setting up that blind date with the dwarven drow Francis for the Yule party. "I swear, he looked taller when he was laying in the bed! And he was much more pleasant at the clinic..." The little witch fails to mention that he was also under the influence of heavy sedatives at the time. It didn't matter now, anyway. As the pair approach the group Taly seems anxious but if it's because of what they were facing or something else, she doesn't say. Those she knows she gives a wave and a small smile, and she bounces on the balls of her feet as she awaits further instructions. While she had been practicing with a blade as of late, her weapon was left at home. She was (attempting) to act as a medic and not a warrior, but if she absolutely had to, she could fall back on her magic. She doubted that dragon faces would succumb to her blue flames like the man at Lana's trial had. The witch shudders and keeps close to her sister's side, looking over her shoulder occasionally as if she were expecting someone to show up.


Kasyr is torn. On one hand, Quintessa had done an admirable job of dangling just the right kind of bait in front of the swordsman- as the prospect of confronting a monstrous undead dragon was an absolutely rivetting change of pace from both the scholarly notes he's been trying to make, as well the more tedious act of grading student papers. On the other hand, it meant that he had to go to frostmaw, and that was a daunting prospect for a number of reasons, the -least- of which was nostalgia in that moment. No, what was truly miring the Kensais day in that moment is the fact that he's bitterly cold, even despite the fur-trimmed trenchcoat, gloves, scarves, and the small fur cap he's wearing. And there's a part of him that has the very real suspicion that part of that biting frigidity is in his head, a siren song meant to entice him to take a drink, to provide an illusion of warmth. Unfortunately he's all too aware that his mortal frame -probably- wouldn't benefit from being full of more spirits than the frozen graveyard. Thus, it's really no surprise that when Kasyr arrives, he's looking a little bit sullen, something which has him nodding along to the proceedings, before he side shuffles over towards where Khitti is. Mostly because she doesn't look liable to talk too much. But he'd be lying if failed to admit that there was also a degree of uncontained curiosity reserved for the sword on her back. But, how does one broach the decidly morbid topic of, "So, what killed Kelovath in the end?" Suffice to say, there's a few good moments that pass before the swordsman realizes that his interior monologue became an exterior comment, so he takes this moment to warm his hands in front of his face.

Krice didn't used to come this far west; it was colder than even he was used to, wilder than he needed to expose himself to, and in general - just way too far away from civilization. Weird for a person who didn't like people, but there it was. Liking people had nothing to do with needing them, and even this stoic warrior needed people. Anyway, he wasn't here because he had been told via the meeting to come this way; rather it was a fortuitous wind that guided the warrior to these wilder reaches of the War City (patrolling the wilderness alerted him to the movement of the group). He walked casually toward the small group and emerged through a stagnant wall of frost - a silhouette becoming clear through the icy layers. A dark-green wyvern stalked his back--she insisted on coming and he hadn't been in the mood to insist that she not. Gylworliath's triangular head was low as they neared the other people, some she knew, a couple of others she did not, though Krice's eyes were fixed on the familiar face of a certain witch. Lanara got a cursory glance, as did the others, but Talyara's presence here seemed a little... troubling, at best. His expression softened in deference to their bond before he asked, " What's going on?" The warrior would pass his focus to the person who provided an answer, his features set in concentration. Against his back was the usual mithril-bladed katana created for him by none other than Frostmaw's blacksmith, Leone, along with a trio of smaller tanto daggers visibly secured to the right left hip of his belt. Clearly he expected to encounter some kind of trouble during his patrols. Gylworliath the wyvern kept her head low as she moved the few metres closer to Talyara, seeking the withc's affection - and receiving whatever Lanara saw fit to lavish upon her as well. But the winged reptile was just as privy to the prospect of danger as was her rider, so her excitement for affection was muted.


Rorin began the calling. With the torches light and the circle completed he began the ritual recitation. He knew he couldn’t trick the dragon into believing he was the necromancer, but he did know that there would be a way to trap it once the calling forced it to land. The talisman has provided him a clue, along with stalking the necromancer, had revealed to him some arcane words to ground the dragon. As the storm split and died, a whirling eye of dim and dismal white tunneling around them, the shape of the great white dragon began its descent. It roared a truly terrible roar with its non throat, a great and guttural thing from beyond its body - speaking with its soul in a dead and prolapsed tongue. It did not settle gracefully into the ground so much as it crashed, a body of nearly sixty feet tip to tip of snout to tail, and a wing span that looked as if it might cross the horizons.

Rorin saw that upon the dragons landing it tried to speak bit could not, tried to resist the grounding but could not, tried to struggle and could not- at first. Then it began to shake its mighty maw and fight against the master's call. Rorin felt something strain and then shatter - the talisman! The dragon may not be able to fly, but now it could fight. It reached out at first and snapped its bony rotting gums at Rorin, who managed to roll back out of its bite. The distended clacking talons swiped first at Kailani, then Lanara and Talyara as well. Its tail, a whip like bone spiked weapon of considerable length, swung first at Kasyr then at Krice. Sensing it was surrounded by warriors, not cultists or sacrifices, it grew enraged at the farce that called it. Rearing up its rotting head its jaws split open and a bone chilling roar howled out into the wind, a mournful, soul rending sound, so powerful at this close distance that most seasoned veterans would feel their bodies overtaken with shivering fright. Rorin himself felt the dread of its powerful aura worm its way deep in his flesh. The power of Arkhen flowed stronger within him, burning back with the need to stand courageous and fight. If the roar had shaken you however, the strength of its powrful wings which raised to beat down a putrid gale would surely blow you away. This the paladin had much less of a divine means of fighting. Rorin erected a magical barrier, dense but directional, towards the dragon. With the wind cut and shield raised he could build up steam into a sprint and charge forward into the fight. The Pilgrim began to unleash holy flame upon the undead frost dragon, swarths and lances of burning light to cut and pierce its flesh. The battle has begun. Rorin prayed that all who had gathered would survive the fight.


Khitti || Those that greeted her would get a nod in return, but Kasyr… he’d get an odd look. Why are you looking at me? And my sword? He seemed… familiar and yet she’d never met him at all. No. Wait. Khitti’d seen him at least once before: at the Redskull fight where she’d booed Quintessa a whole hell of a lot. Hrm. “It’s probably best to keep your eyes on the task at hand,” the templar said, her attention back now on Rorin though her words were for Kasyr. The dragon was summoned and roared, the sound enough to make Khitti flinch. The flinch earned itself an angry scowl. When it was clear that the dragon was much more focused on everyone else but Khitti, well… it was time to take matters into her own hands. Goodbye, Kasyr, it’s been lovely talking to you. Khitti’s gone now, you see. She shadowstepped away from where she’d been, over to several feet away, her intent on getting to the side of the beast where it couldn’t tailwhip or swipe at her. Both Tenbatsu Kaji and its new partner Embershard were unsheathed now as Khitti shadowstepped herself over to the leafless tree, using it to launch herself further towards the dragon, and shadowstepping even further. Khitti held both swords with the blades facing the ground and used them--rather improperly I might add--to sink them into whatever part of the dragon she could just long enough to allow both blades to burst into flame, one with brilliant red holy fire and the other with dark purple shadowflames. This decision would probably end up being a bad one, but it’s not one she’d stick with for long before she either got tossed elsewhere or she shadowstepped herself to some semblance of safety.


Kailani was far from complacent as Rorin began the ritual. Before it was complete, the druid had managed to remove her ranseur from it's tethered position across her back. Her weapon of choice now in the grasp of both hands, a battle ready stance is assumed and blue eyes linger on the sky. She would not be caught unaware once the dragon landed, she was fully prepared to be the first to be assaulted by the dragon. It swipes at her with one very large claw, but the battle ready druid avoids impalement by lunging to the side and throwing herself to the ground so that falls into a roll. While Kailani could follow through her roll so that she ends up back on her feet again, she does not. She rolls into a kneeling position, letting her ranseur find a temporary resting spot at her feet. The blue-haired druid would have preferred to rely upon her water magics, but with as much fire as being thrown around, it seemed like a poor choice on her part. The druid instead rips a glove from her hand and shoves it to the the snow ground, so that her fingers can feel the frozen earth beneath it. It might seem like the druid has gone and had a mental break down in the heat of battle, but after some concentration and chanting, a thick film of mud forms over the dragons eyes. Even if the earth was burned? It would still be hard to see with a layer of ash in it's eyes. The idea is that if the beast cannot see, then they are harder targets to attack. Spell cast, the druid takes her ranseur within hand and joins Khitti and Rorin in the physical assault on the dragon. With Khitti shadow stepping and attacking high, Kailani kept her attacks low. She tried to position herself close to the belly of the beast, stabbing at it with the hope she might find a soft spot in it's scales.


Talyara catches site of a familiar warrior on one of her over the shoulder looks and she does a double take, her emerald eyes widening as he comes into clearer focus--she was exactly where Krice told her to avoid. Whoops. When their eyes meet she gives him a small, apologetic smile before turning to look at Gylworliath as she approaches the witch sisters. She is met with the appropriate amount of pets for such a somber occasion thanks to both Lanara and Talyara before their focus is once more upon Rorin when he begins the ritual. She looks to her sister first, giving Lana a look that clearly communicates that she does not anticipate this ending well, and then to the silver haired warrior. Those gathered don't keep her attention for long, though as that undead, white dragon begins to descend upon them, the younger witch oddly reminded of her deceased brother Scandal who could have easily dwarfed this particular dragon. The energy surrounding the group was palpable and Taly waits, barely breathing, for something to happen. When the dragon aims his talons her way, she grabs Lana's bicep and tugs her back, the claws barely missing her sister's pretty face, as Gylworliath releases her own loud trill and angles her scaly body between the dragon and the sisters. The soul-consuming roar is met with a wince from Talyara, who moves to cover her tapered ears. "You go that way!" she hears Lana yell before skirting around the dragon in the direction that Khitti was currently shadowstepping towards. Taly curses under her breath unable to grab her sister's wrist as she runs away. She is torn between following after her or going in the opposite direction as instructed. No one seemed injured to the point of needing a healer yet, so better prepare for the offensive. Following Khitti's lead, the little witch summons up her own fire magic, cobalt blue flames bursting to life in the palms of her hands. Being careful to avoid any of her companions, the witch begins to hurl fireballs into the open maw of the undead dragon.


Kasyr shrugs at Khitti's response, his attention flickering back to Rorin and his ritual, and the draconic denizen of these dismal dunes of ice and snow. "I should have brought Vesper." The first roar is ear splitting, actually causing the Kensai's calico-esque ears to crop up with such violence that his cap falls off. Not that he really notices the cold, since his hungover brain is busy vibrating from the furious din it's being subjected to. Kasyr can't help but be grateful for the initial respite, rubbing at his ears as he awaits something else on the paladins behalf- only to become duly aware that this was about the point where the plan ended and improv began. "Ugh." If he'd been drunk, he imagines the sliver of anxiety that wedges itself into his heart would have sobered him up. At the very least, it grants him something to focus on- solidifying his will, in a manner which seemed to reflect in the gold and platinum hued light pooled around and right and left forearms. That said, the vambraces have only just finished solidifying into form when the dragon let's out that second baleful wail. Kasyr can feel the unnatural terror in those tones scrabble at his heart and soul, searching for some point of egress. And perhaps, had the situation been different, he may have kept his footing- but the his already pounding head practically threatens to split beneath that second cacophonious call, staggering him and dropping him down to a knee. His vision blurs beneath the sonic assault for just a moment, but when it comes back into focus, it's already too late and the dragons whip like tail is all but about to impact. "Daedri-" The prayer goes unfinished, but there's a flicker of something divine around the Kensai all the same, a desperately erected barrier that saves the Kensai from being shorn in two, to leave him to suffer a set of broken ribs instead as he's sent hurtling back. "-Aaaah, Fu-."


Krice looked up, away from Talyara and the others, as the frost of the air split to reveal the hulking dragon of whom Rorin had spoken. Gylworliath screeched warily from the witch-sisters' vicinity and he silenced her with a gesture, lest she drew more of the dragon's attention than otherwise. The large wyrm's cry pervaded the warrior's sensitive hearing but he shut it out before it could disorient him, a grimace portraying his discomfort. Gylworliath folded a wing high against the swinging talons of the larger dragon to protect the sisters, receiving the brunt of the blow which grounded her. She would eventually rise and stay near Talyara, her body poised at the ready, her square jaw hinging to open up for screeches and calls of varying intents and emotions. Mostly, she was pissed off. Once reassured that the sisters were unharmed, the enigma removed one of the sheathed tantos against his hip and tossed it in a low spin at Talyara’s feet. If she needed a weapon, she would at least have that. He called to the witch, " Mark my first hit. Try to heal it!" Krice rushed forward, a quick-step that sprayed snow behind his launching foot and stole his image from view. This maneuver pushed him clear of the dragon's dangerous tail but he needed to backtrack to avoid its return, swiftly moving past the direction of his beating wings; residual down-drafts buffeted him and tested the integrity of his usual clothing, but he pressed on. When he reappeared, it was at the dragon’s front-right foot where he thrust his mithril katana between its toes to slice unprotected flesh. This is what he expected his green-eyed companion to heal; an undead creature’s worst enemy was restorative magic, and hopefully the source from whence Talyara derived her own would prove useful in that sense. If it did not, he would urge across the distance that she forget that plan and allow her respite to play her role ‘by ear’. Past the others in position Krice ran, a whisper of wind denoting his progress across the battlefield. to unsheathe his mithril katana into the thick tendon of its back-right foot. Whether it cut through to the length of the blade or simply left a flesh-wound, he would move toward the next nearest foot - back to the dragon’s front-right, given its stance. Lacking magic in his blade or elsewise, -Krice’s- role was to weaken the creature where possible, though he hesitated at logical intervals to avoid interrupting himself by unintentionally crossing paths with the others fighting the undead wyrm.


Rorin surged forward and kept the dragons eyes on him as he rolled around rather dexterously for someone in half plate in order to avoid being snapped up whole in its jaws. Khitti landed somewhere above its should flank and caused a roar of pain followed by a craning of its neck- its eyes and teeth werent on Rorin anymore. Its languid flesh deprived neck turned easily towards its back where it snipped and snapped at the pesky swordsman. On the lower front Kailani would have plenty of standing room in its nearly hollow ribs and rank stomach. Flesh fell in thick sloughing tides and shedded at nearly the rate of the snow. Its eyes, milky blue and sightless, we're unblinking, but under here looks like a prime position for a counter attack. Its heart - a black and shriveled thing - seems a prime target for the reach of her weapon. Under the flaming onslaught of Talyara and Lanara as well as Rorins now leaping swipes at its exposed neck, the dragon thrashes and roars, twisting and turning with wide swipes of its tail and erratic flutters of its wings in order to quell the flames and deter attackers with its massive body. As Krice pestered its feet it gave up on kicking entirely and instead starting spraying its frost breath wherever it could. Its answer to the numbers of its foes was to first buck wildly and then heave its entire 60 foot long 20 some foot high bulk into a pounce that rattled teeth and would absolutely decimate anyone underfoot. But it wasn't done. With the near shockwave of its descent and having repositioned itself without pests beneath it again spoke in its terrible dark tongue and breathed in deep. Gathering magical power, the dragon spewed its frost breath towards the ground, spreading out a thick solid sheet of almost completely smooth ice, trapping any who's feet still touched the ground, and giving the boot clad divine warriors a place to put skates on their next yuletide gift lists. Freezing mist rose from here and from behind the muddy ashen spew covering its face the dragons milky blue eyes began to glow. It seemed to laugh and chortle a raspy hawking laugh as it would watch them slide and dance, spikes of ice bursting out like nests of thorns mid air and dropping below to burst and send out more shards. Rorin himself had shielded against the dragons breath - barely, already winding his reserves - and he, like many others, would prove otherwise traversing capable much to the great dragons consternation. Using platforms and blasts of light from his practiced walking kicks, Rorin would narrowly avoid the icicle surprises until one clipped him on the right and he went sliding, a blody swath from his ribs sliding across the ice. He used this to his advantage, slipling under and behind the dragon and slicing with his sword all the way.


Khitti || Putrid fangs snapped at Khitti as she tried to hang on--she wasn’t succeeding well in that department, however. The fires still burned as she pulled her gladius from the beast’s side, but before she could remove the katana, the templar lost her grip and fell, hitting her back on the ground. There’s a lot of swearing on the redhead’s part once she caught her breath and pushed herself to her feet. She darted around, shadowstepping here and there to get a good look at where she’d left Tenbatsu Kaji. Once she spotted it again, she put her hand out, willing the blade back to her and soon resheathed it. The others could deal with physical fighting, it was time to break out the magic. A mix of shadowflames and shadowice was summoned up, both hurled at the dragon as Khitti shouted to get its attention again, “Hey, you ugly bastard! I’m not done with you yet!” Except, she was. Because the ground was now too icy. Growing up in the mountains of Dhavislaav, Khitti was well accustomed to ice skating. What she was not accustomed to ice skating without skates around a murderous dragon. The templar goes slipping and sliding, doing everything she can to try to keep her balance. But, let’s be honest. She can’t manage that because it’s Khitti. So, someone gets to be really unlucky and gets to have a Khitti colliding into them.


Kailani could vaguely hear someone calling for a healer. It was not a request that was aimed at her in specific, so she does not heed it. While the blue-haired woman is curious to know who might answer said call, the woman has plenty she should keep her focus on. She was not willing to give up her position beneath the dragon, especially not since she caught sight of that shriveled heart. She was just about to stab it with her spear-like weapon when the creature ends up jumping about twenty feet into the air. Kailani could not be under the beast when it collides with the earth. The druid is forced to flea, losing her footing and falling to the earth completely as a result of the shockwave created by the creature hitting the earth. She recovers, only to be met with a spray of icicles. Elemental magic does tend to work out in the druid's favor, the offensive of ice is met with the defensive of fire. With a target in mind, Kailani finally gets to rely in her preferred element for this fight. Water. Well, in this case she will be utilizing it in the form of ice. Not Shadowice, that is Khitti's badassery. Just regular ice, it was quite plentiful in this particular area. The dragon was only adding another layer of cold for Kailani to be able to manipulate. Crouching to the ground, Kailani begins to chant and periodically slam her fist against the earth. The dragon is going to have to deal with an icicle offensive of it's own, except Kailani's are violently erupting from the ground beneath the dragon every time her fist beats against the earth. The druid really wanted to impale that heart, she'd attempt to manipulate this element until the dragon was dead or until was distracted sufficiently from her casting.


Talyara ceases her fireball attack when she sees a dagger come spinning her way, the hilt knocking harmlessly against the side of her boot. The witch reaches down to scoop it up and looks towards Krice when he calls out to her, her brow furrowing in confusion. He wanted her to heal what? Lanara is on the same wavelength as Kailani, thinking blinding the undead creature is a good course of action. After the mud clouds its eyes, Lana conjures up a strong gale of wind, whipping up a dense snow squall which she directs towards the dragon's head. Talyara continues to watch the enigmatic swordsman, or at least the best she can given his incredible speed. Gylworliath is tailing her though, keeping close to protect the little witch. Taly slips the dagger into her belt and continue to try and decipher Krice's directive, watching as he moves to slice along the undead dragon's foot. She was unfamiliar with such creatures and thus, didn't even consider that her healing abilities would be a detriment to it. Unfortunately, she didn't practice missile range healing so she wasn't sure her magic would reach from a distance, and even if it did, if it was palpable enough to do any damage. But she had to at least -try-. Focusing her mind a sphere of opalescent energy begins to manifest in her hands and trusting Krice (and her own magical prowess), the witch aims the ball towards the wound the enigmatic swordsman opened up. Without pausing to see whether it had even -done- anything, Taly's emerald gaze trails after Krice, a swirling sphere already forming in her hands once more, ready to lob it after his next attack. The witch is suddenly knocked forward, an oof escaping her lips as she face-plants in the snow. Gyl had given her a protective shove in the back with her wing to protect from a blast of icy breath sent their way from the undead dragon. Looking back over her shoulder at the wyvern, she calls out a "thanks girl!" before pushing up to a stand and running off once more. She lost visual of Krice momentarily during her controlled tumble and is keeping an eye on him and hopefully her sister. She finally spies him, running in the opposite direction and moves to plant her foot to pivot and follow his trajectory. Unfortunately, the solid ground is now a sheet of ice and the little witch's ankle rolls, causing her to fall once more, only this time less gracefully, and with a quiet yelp of pain. Across the way, Lanara manages to keep her footing; however, a falling icicle snags her right leg, leaving a sizable cut in her thigh and causing the elder witch to fall to one knee.


Kasyr takes a moment to gather himself, momentarily heedless of anything other than the ache in his chest, and the effort it takes to push himself back into an upright position. The chaos unfolding before him is stared at for a few bleary moments, but before he can quite get his focus together again, it roars in pain- bringing a fresh wave of agony crashing through his brain. Still, there's a sort of dark satisfaction in the fact that he's at least clear of it's initial tantrum, due to the same action that had made his ribs feel like he'd offered to let the spell blade students use them as target practice. At least, until the air grows colder and a jet of frigid air hits the battlefield and arcs across. There's a brief defiant flip fo the bird from the Kensais left hand, even as his right moves to grasp hold of the Katana. Before that glaciating blast can strike where he is- his Katana's drawn free in an upwards aimed thrust. As a motion, it may have briefly looked futile, but anyone who spared more than a glance would have seen a burst of sparks erupt from the swordsmans left shoulder, followed by a bolt of lightning ascending towards the sky. For all intents and purposes, Kasyr's that bolt- hurtling well and clear of the breath attack, and bloodthirsty belly flop. In fact, at some point, Kasyr stops even channeling that attack, allowing the dregs of upwards momentum take hold as he tries to make some sense of the situation. Undead? Check. Falling apart? Check. So it probably doesn't -need- wings to fly. That said? Did it need to be intact to have full mobility? That's an excellent question. The sort that deserves some hands on research. Gravity has, at this point, resumed, though the Kensai embraces this fact without even bothering to make an attempt at a Wile E. Coyote run. Instead, he sets his focus on drawing on his connection with Daedria, to at once begin imbuing those energies into his blade, as well as to distract himself from the pain of the fresh hole in his shoulder as it begins to expand at a voracious rate. His blade techniques, after all, have a grievous cost- and one which doesn't hesitate to begin stripping away flesh up to the his collar, and down to his upper arm- like some sort of arcane autopsy. But that's not what the others would see. They'd only bear witness to the moment those energies are actualized, as the Kensai reasserts control over his downwards momentum, hurtling forward like a comet down towards the midst of the dragons spine in an attempt to literally sunder through it with a combination of his lightning charged celerity, and the prodigous amounts of mass behind himself, and the armoured trenchcoat he wears- all focused behind a holy imbued blade.


Krice was faster in battle than any other human in Lythridel--except maybe Lionel--and that was without utilizing his quick-step. Unlike Khitti, the warrior didn't flash here or there as often, apparently leaving his more advanced maneuvers to moments of necessity - like when the dragon reared to apply gravity to its already hulking weight. He quick-stepped clear of its immediate footprint but the impact tremor reached him there too. He only slightly wobbled as a result of the shaking ground but was immediately in at the wyrm's feet once more, cutting and slashing to strip down its tendons and muscles where scales did not protect it. As the creature roared to release its frost breath, the warrior cast a brief glance toward that yelping sound in time to see Talyara fall and his heart twitched with panic. Before he could react, Khitti was sliding at a rate that followed the progression of the ice toward him. He thrust his sword outward again, following the lines he had cut around the dragon's back-right foot previously, attempting to sever the remaining muscle and tendon from bone so at least that large foot could be rendered useless. As he stepped back to avoid the icy ground, his foot slipped out from under him but he managed to right his balance by hooking his katana point against the ice, scraping as it slowed his slide. Khitti met with the warrior's right side, solid with arm outstretched ready to catch her. It would have been fine if the excitement ended there, but one of the dragon's many stepping maneuvers drew its furthest foot down toward them as it pivoted to face the attackers at the fore. Deprived earth upon which his boots could grip, Krice's quick-step was hindered. With Khitti still in hand, because there was no way he was about to piss of Lionel and Brand by letting the woman stubbornly fend for herself while they were -already- close, the warrior used his sword as an anchoring point and attempted to quick-step away, but the dragon's foot connected with his back and depressed him toward the earth, one talon cutting through black fabric to pierce the skin beneath from shoulder blade to hip. The enigma grunted as he fell, his right forearm and elbow providing some kind of cushioning for Khitti, but ice underfoot and the dragon's sheer weight ensured that their joint momentum was swift. Whether or not the woman was coherent enough to register what had happened, Krice huffed out a composing breath and managed to maneuver his katana into the sheath still intact against the uninjured portion of his back, freeing his hand to retrieve a tanto dagger for more controlled maneuvers. Hooking its black blade into the ice while Kasyr descended in a lightning flash toward the dragon's center, Krice gained a modicum of traction enough to give Khitti a smooth shove away from the dragon, allowing her distance - and therefore time - to regain her footing however she saw fit. Running on adrenaline and fortitude of mind, the enigmatic swordsman found his feet and skated toward Talyara, blood dripping flicking from the flailing tatters of his shirt's back-side. Once near enough to the fallen witch, he dropped to one knee and used his tanto blade to anchor him so he didn't sail right past her, the tension in his left arm--and his whole body in general, let's be honest--stressing the wound in his back. He reached out to assist his companion with his right arm, and Gylworliath stomped hurriedly toward them, her own talons anchoring her effectively in the ice. " Come on," he ushered through a controlled grimace. " Up you go." Onto the stable wyvern and out of harm's way. Magic flew around the battlefield and Krice sheathed his weapon while he assisted Talyara, ready to withdraw his katana once she was safely atop Gylworliath's saddled back.


Rorin manages to chop off part of the dragons tail and the damn thing barely notices - so caught up in the downfall of dragons, its terrible pride. The puny warriors are trying to squall the storm and pierce its hide with not just blades but ice, and this humors it so to the point of beginning a villainous monologue only it could understand. The rambling is cut short however when a healing spell is wrought, glittering warmth against its poisoned bloated hiide. For the undead, curing their flesh is destroying part of them, and it doesn't at all seem to like the idea of part of its foot just falling off. Its at around this moment that Kasyrs strike hits home, and at first it seems almost too effective- where the hell did it go? Nearly persuaded to believe it had simply disintegrated after a moment, the group would be terribly surprised as the mist parts and the dragon surfaces from the solid ice beneath Talyaras feet! Like a predator of the deep it does not merely poke its head above water but launches its massive body all at once, an impossibly flat reflection beneath them one moment, and entirely too real the next. Just as quick as it came it would go, melding to the underside of the solid ice in a mystical mirage. Back towards the center it would go, looking like it was diving down, down, and then rising up- the full length of its body sailing straight out and into the sky before twisting and crashing back down. All of the ice would shatter in a wave of razor sharp shards flying in every direction. Rorin had watched its ascent and knew that there was little he could do but try to survive this final desperate gambit, and so he covered his head with his arms and erected as large a bubble barriee he could with everyone around him. Once the tide of ice had settled it was plain to see that the beast was done. Exhausted, cut to pieces, haggard and falling apart, it lay in a shambling heap that rumbled with a deep ragged breath. Now was the hour of its execution. Rorin lowered the barrier and sprinted, giving it no chance to get up, and amassed a flaning thrust at its exposed and blackened heart, leaving room for the others to join him in dealing its death knell.


Khitti and Krice had a bit of a strange ice dance before he shoved her off elsewhere (nicely, of course!). She could’ve given him a ‘thanks’ for the catch, but by the time she caught her footing, he was well on his way to helping Talyara and Khitti knew it was best not to distract him. Once she got into the snow where she could stand without sliding, Khitti refrained from aiding in their kill. She watched instead as the group took down the dragon, getting them all one step closer to ending the necromancer’s brief reign in Frostmaw’s wilds. She eyed Rorin most of all. It was a wonder why he was so worked up about her asking him to be the Devout’s Guild’s deputy. He was three for three on leading successful missions against this necromancer and from the rate things were going, he’d likely add a fourth soon enough. There was a slight twinge of jealousy, but it’d come to fade in time--hopefully. Sigh. “You did well,” Khitti said to Rorin, from the safe spot she’d found for herself, away from the fight and from the ice the dragon had made. She’d stay there long enough to watch the dragon take its “last breath” (well, not really since it’s undead), then she’d half-ass salute the lot of them and take off towards where she left her tikifhlee. It remained to be seen if the cat would eat her or not upon her return.


Kailani :: Even if Kailani was currently attacking via elemental magic from a distance, she could not escape the next onslaught of razor sharp shards of ice being launched in just about every direction. Kailani is already on the ground, so curling up in a protective ball so that her essentials are not impaled is easy to accomplish. Armor protects a lot, but the druid does not come out unscathed. Several icicles still find a way to bite into flesh, but nothing serious or alarming. She also does not take up her weapon and join the others in dealing the final blows to the dragon. The end seemed near, overkill was overkill. She would instead wait for an opportune time to approach Talyara. Introductions a brief, "Kailani. Also a healer." Which means she is there to offer Talyara support in with patching up whomever might need it afterward, if anyone does.


Talyara pushes herself up on her elbow and looks down at her ankle. It wasn't broken, but definitely sprained, she could already feel the tightening of her boots which meant it was already swelling. She's momentarily distracted by her otherwise trivial injury and she is trying to figure out how to stand up when she senses someone approaching and looks up to see Krice skating towards her. His presence, while normally succeeding in bringing her comfort, brings more dismay when she sees the trail of blood following in his wake. "You're injured," she says with a frown. "What happened? Are you okay? Have you seen Lana?" she asks in a quick flurry of questions, unaware that the injured warrior is helping her up to her uninjured left leg and helping her atop Gyl. "We're not leaving," she tells the swordsman and wyvern alike. She was fine, there were other people that needed tending to, like Krice for example. "Are you okay?!" another familiar voice calls out, and Taly is relieved to see Lana, half limping, half sliding her way, the midrift of her sweater torn away and tied around her wounded thigh. "Come up here!" the younger sister calls down, offering a hand to her sister and giving a strong tug to help her on the saddle behind her. "I'm okay, rolled my damned ankle," she says with a huff. Of all the lame ways to get injured while fighting an undead dragon. "I got hit with an icicle," Lana grumbles in response. The little witch looks down at Krice, about to ask what happened to him when she sees the dragon in the ice beneath them. Without thinking she calls upon her own power and throws out her energy in an attempt to protect them--Krice, Lanara, Gylworliath, and herself--from the ascending dragon. "That was too freaking close!" she yells in a tone an octave above her usual voice. Despite the dragon's movements elsewhere she doesn't take down her magical shield. "We're not done yet!" Lanara calls after her sister and, not wanting to be pieced with yet another ice shard, manifests her own shield above their heads, effectively wrapping them in a bubble. Only once the undead dragon collapses to the ground, spent from the battle, do the sisters dissipate their magical barriers. They watch as Rorin approaches the creature but neither sister moves to slide from Gyl's back to join him. Kailani's approach is met with an introduction of her own and though appreciative of the offer, she waves her off from needing any healing help within this particular group. "We should get together though," she calls after the druid. "Under, uh, less stressful circumstances?"


Kasyr briefly basks in the absence of dragon, a long exhale escaping from his lips as he rests in the middle of the cratered turf. A part of him was almost curious if amongst all the white his impact had kicked up, if a fair portion of it was dragon b . . . "- itch, please." The awe inspiring amount of weariness and exhaustion he's feeling as the dragon takes a page out of a bullettes play book is hard to properly convey, but the best Kasyr can manage is to internally count off the number of days he intends to be drinking after this. Some part of him screams to move, but the more pragmatic part reminds him that there's a burning feeling from his ribs from simply breathing, and so he simply bides his time. Then the Ascendi-be-damned things back under the ice and heading towards the center of their partially ill-fated ambush. Thankfully it's emergence from the ice itself means he's not directly beneath it when it hurtles skywards, but can can already see the immediate problem with being anywhere near the vicinity of it's kamikaze attack. Unprotected, anyways. There's something about the direness of the immediately situation that helps click together the final cog in his brain, the bits and pieces of what he'd been trying to mimic solidifying into a coherant idea. "RHEW!" It's a simple invocation in itself, one meant to channel glacial energy into the blade, but the execution is a sort of brilliant bit of idiocy, as Kasyr overloads what should be a basic spell- not only flash freezing the blade, but promptly bursting out a rapidly growing mess of ice crystals from his immediate vicinity. After all, the former soul eating tiefling has a rarther prodigious reserve of energy, and if there was ever a reasont o simply empty it out- averting an undead shrapnel bomb would likely be it. And hey, maybe enough of the glacial fortification will be left over after the crash so that he can take a nap in peace. Because, he could definitely do with a cat nap.


Krice shook his head and dismissed Talyara's concern with a soft, " I'm fine." -His- concern was getting her up on Gylworliath so the wyvern's claws could provide her with some stability. And then he heard Lanara and glanced toward the older sister. Reaching out, Krice would use his right arm to draw Lanara closer to Gylworliath, offering Talyara a partial view of the gash that ran down the length of his back. It was only an inch deep at its deepest point--the center--and tapered outwards toward the ends. Focused on survival, the warrior became aware of the dragon face beneath them and stiffened at the ready, releasing both women to withdraw his katana for the impending encounter - but they ensured that his further involvement was not needed by erecting a joint shield around their little pod, wyvern included, and he lowered his weapon away from the barrier to let it shine unhindered in protection of them. Once the magics were down and the icicles had fallen harmlessly in some ways - and into Kasyr's sword in another, Krice would leave the two women under the protection of Gylworliath - and their magics - to finish the beast where others did not reach. With the dragon finally gone, he stood there taking a moment to catch his breath and take stock of his allies, scanning their condition thoughtfully. Talyara and Lanara would move around to tend to those who needed healing, Krice offering them physical assistance where needed - and encouraging them to use Gylworliath as a sort of between-patients transport. Only once they were done helping the injured would he insist that they mount the wyvern again.


Rorin eventually plopped down into the snow huffing and puffing with a hand pressed to the bloody patch on his side. He was as exhausted as the dragon looked there at the end. He knew that eventually he would have to get up and burn the damned body, and that would take a long while. But first he needed to catch his breath. He was just fine with someone wanting to heal him too, he spent more than enough energy on this one. Rorin sighed as Khitti rode off on a uh... Well what he could only describe as a giant cat, now that he thought about it, and he also thought of the necromancer hiding in his lair nearby. Had he sensed the falling of the dragon? Was he preparing his forces even now? What madness drove him, to what end, what was this all consuming goal? In the wake of this victory how long did they have to stop him from accomplishing it...