RP:Unleash the Ueoud!
Background
This arc is part of the Lesser of Two Evils arc. Additionally, all NPCing done by Ranok.
Abandoned Slave Market
The slave shop appears to have been vacated, the once bustling sound of monetary coin exchanging hands long forgotten as the vendor has decided to move locations for a better profit.
It was time. The dragon had fled to the Dead Forest after the castle had fallen to pieces. Rampaging was all it knew how to do, at that point. Its shattered mind was in conflict. Two personalities, one ancient and saurian, the other drow and calculating. Safety is what it sought as Lucius made his final stand, after tearing a bloody swath through the forces assembled there to get free. A week, in the forest, resting and repairing its broken mind. A machine with cogs broken can still function, albeit not as effectively. Eventually, an equilibrium reached, and it could suddenly think again. It wasn't a genius, but nor was it a beast. It was a curious arrangement, and one not to be put to paper. The way a drow and a saurian's mind working together would only accurately be explained to one that had reached such a state. That said, it would have to remain a mystery as to how and why, but one thing weighed on its mind: revenge. Both minds agree: Kasyr was their undoing. For that, the Kensai must die. It didn't matter how. It needed to rend him, to feel any measure of satisfaction, if the thing was even able to feel emotions anymore. Once this conclusion was reached, the beginning of the end was kicked off. Wings snap forth into the air and the undead engine of utter destruction takes to the air. The week had not been kind to it, even in its death. Animated by dark forces to begin with, the marriage of the empowering drow had unchained more then the fragile control Thersea had on the thing. It was quite literally burning with dark forces, the fires of the dragon it was stoked. Where the flesh was rended, where there were scales missing, where blood would pour forth, instead, flames did, dark fires burning with a curious mixture of light and the *absorption* of it, outpouring from wounds and eye sockets. On the upside, it made it incredibly easy to spot. On the downside: all that sheer power means it was going to be one hell of a fight to put down. Sailing over the city, it chooses a good target: the abandoned slave market to warm up on. It was close to the destroyed castle, and on the way to the blood fountain, which it fully intended to mess up. Destroying the icon of the city was a good way to catch the attention of the kensai, no doubt. Maw opens and out pours a wave of black flames, incinerating any and all that stood in the way. Sheer power, flames that burned hotter than any living could produce, were what poured forth. A sign of the dragon’s state: it was living on borrowed time, even ignoring its brought-to-life state. In a week, it might have decayed to the point of harmlessness. But by then, would there be any city left?
Kasyr 's been waiting in this damnable city for a week now, effectively forced to twiddle his thumbs and wait for the beasts re-emergence. The forest had, after all, a disconcerting habit of swallowing those entities which entered into its midst- and this particular habit had made hunting down the dragon especially difficult. Thus, whilst the violent reappearance of the undead Saurian is enough to coax curses and shrieks from those pedestrians caught out in the open, Kasyrs' reaction is merely a slight, grim smile. With a grunt, the Revenant shoves himself away from the city guards he was talking to, a few hasty orders barked out as he proceeded towards the dragons 'stomping grounds'. "Get the civilians clear, keep out of the streets, et make sure the city doesn't burn down. Do Not Engage." Simple enough as orders go, and the only thing he can think of to minimize fatalities.
Ueoud wasn't done with just the slave market. Citizens running for cover were targeted, next. Kasyr might have been the point, but there was no harm in incinerating innocent bystanders. One in particular, rambling about giant rats, was scooped up in talons and rended in twain and the pieces scattered. His worries were no more. Southwards, to the fountain of blood, then, even as Kasyr was bellowing orders to his soldiers. The dark hot breath was poured onto the blood issuing forth from the stone, hotter and hotter. Blood was literally boiling out, steams of it. The stone was soon subjected to the intense heat, cutting off the flow as molten rock itself plugged the works. Soon there was no more fountain, no more blood. Only clouds of steam from the superboiled stuff and molten rock flowing across the cobblestones, which had twisted and bucked in the intense heat. Landing among the destruction for a scant few moments to clad its claws in the molten stuff to create sheaths of sorts of it, it explodes into flight once more with a sheer bellow that echoed all over Vailkrin, "KASYR!"
Kasyr , though still lamenting the loss of his trenchcoat on some levels (and having not yet bothered to fetch a replacement from the customs agent in Cenril), can't help but be slightly grateful for that particular lack. The reason is more than apparent after a few moments, as two quivering mounds of flesh bubble up upon the Revenants back, before exploding outwards in a macabre spray of gore- that gruesome display effectively serving to herald the rapid formation of a pair of leathery wings along Kasyrs back. With a sharp shake of those leathery appendages so as to dislodge what bits of flesh still clung to them, the Kensai promptly bursts into the air if only so that he can barrel straight towards the dragon. It's once the Kensai has engaged in this 'suicidal' sortie, that an ominous darkness begins to form about him- a blackness which takes the guise of both 24 caliginous cracks which form a ring about his body, and a living liquid 'tide' of ebon which flows out from the Tattooes along his arm, if only to coalesce into the guise of a pair of Katanas.
All banter is dispensed with. All witticisms left unsaid. The dragon wanted Kasyr dead, and was too unstable to really throw them out, anyways. Wings pumping, black fire streaming from the holes left in them, producing an incredible sight, but Kas was hardly granted the opportunity to enjoy it, scoff at it, or any variation thereof. Instead of blasting those super intense flames in a stream at Kas, it coughs out a ball of the stuff, sent rocketing his way. It was a feint, of course, something to force Kas to break his line of sight just long enough for the follow up cloud of flames it kicked up to hide itself to obscure it. This was all done for a drive high and dive bomb attack, using the only thing greater then Gospel's weight: its own. In a piledrive, those rock sheathed talons extended out, it fully intended to barrel into the Kensai and drop him, and itself, into a several hundred foot long curbstomp.
Kasyr immediately curls one wing in upon espying that sphere of flame & darkness, effectively forcing himself into a brisk spiraling plummet away from the attack, before the unfurling of that wing has him ascending back up. By this point, the beast has already managed to veil itself- and yet, the Kensai hardly seems concerned. After all, rather than continue barreling towards an unknown variable, the Revenant simply halts his charge; using those sparse moments to allow those cracks which trailed about him to finish manifesting into a veritable entourage of Katanas. Hence positioned, he's at least bought a sparse few moments for himself as the dragon promptly emerges into visibility and hurtles straight towards him. Kasyrs' reaction is all but immediate; a massive surge of electrical energy overtaking his body which serves as a sign of the violent invocation of his particular brand of swordsmanship, far more visible than the subtle ionization of a fist sized mass of flesh on his lower back. The result is spectacular, to say the least, as the Revenant promptly lances through the air in a blaze of lightning, deftly dodging clear of the beasts intended 'tackle' and over its shoulder. Nary a moment after, that curious display of electrical energy cuts out, though the revenant continues to move-seeking to fly in towards the dragons back, if only so that he can drag the two continues he's still clutching through one of its wings, seeking to sever it at the stump, or at least thoroughly shred them apart. After all, whether or not it was flying via magic or its own volition; there was potential that the limbs themselves still were key to this particular form of movement (Akin to a gargoyles wings)...not to mention the added bonus of trying to get it to spew more self consuming flame in the process. The insult to this particular intended injury is the mass of 24 Katanas that the Revenant has left in his wake: Though each one weighs far less than Gospel when it's in the form of a broadsword, each one is supernaturally keen in this state, and has been ever so 'helpfully' left in the dragons 'flight path' (crash course?).
At this point, the dragon's limbs were, more or less, immaterial. That black fire that was pouring forth was the key to its animation. The corruption of the things Dragonfire was what made it burn so, and contrary to Kasyr's assumptions, those flames, while intense, were actually the relief of a pressure valve. Each outburst lessened the fires within, even as they built. To deny it the venting would surely destroy it. A valid tactic that was unlikely not, given the sheer number of wounds it was about to get in this coming battle, each one venting those flames. It weakened it, yes, but the breath weapon wasn't the only tool it had. As Kas shot over its shoulder, it executes an aerial brake with a snap of wings and a sheer violation of its momentum. The maneuver would have broken the wings of any other dragon, and indeed, that snapping was more literal as the useless things break from sheer forces. One or two swords had punctured its hide, to no real damage. No doubt Kas will be arcing electricity into them sometime later. What damage done to its wing was additionally immaterial, more outpouring fires issuing forth. This thing wasn't simply going to be pecked apart, and it was more tenatious then the kensai himself. It had come out of death twice, after all, to kill him. It claws to get height, great wings beating and eyes locked onto Kas. One of those swords plucked from its own flesh, held in claws and placed into its mouth. The maw closes shut, and then it spits out a darkness enshrouded sword right back at Kas, emulating his own trick, only by using its own saliva and magical fires as propellent. Less a gauss cannon and more rocket sword, it would be nonetheless effective. Each sword in its hide plucked free in turn to be fired right at the kensai to taste his own medicine.
Kasyr s' quick enough to veer away from the dragon when it abruptly ceases to plummet, a wary glance given towards its tail during the evasive maneuver. That being said, his attention is swift enough to steal back towards the Saurian, at once taking in both the sight of a wing that was now mostly composed of blackened fire, and the fact that it was...playing with his swords. The first one evokes a brisk flaring of electrical energy from the revenant, that gap of ionized flesh along the Revenants back enlarging as the Kensai abruptly darts off to the side. The second, however, is met far differently. With an indication of what it's doing now, the Revenant simply calls upon his particular link with those myriad blades, effectively using it to subtly redirect their trajectories so that, in tandem with some evasive maneuvers, each one misses- albeit narrowly. With the amount of ammunition the Kensai has 'provided' the Dragon, Kasyr simply proceeds to use this bit of borrowed time to observe the dragons actions. Dodging, weaving, and even a dramatic curling of his wings in, and an upward thrust of his swords so as to narrowly knock one of those myriad blades askew- the Kensai continues his dance. All the while, the Kensai proceeds to slowly allow bits of his energy to trickle into the Katana's within his hands, wreathing them in a nigh imperceptible aura of 'wind magic', until at last, he proceeds with rushing straight towards the beast. The plan is simple enough, at this point- to purposefully fly himself in so close as to give the dragon confidance that one of those narrow misses may in fact strike home. As it stands, the Kensai fully intends upon dispelling the blade rather then letting himself be struck by it, if only to then use that (hopefully) created moment of surprise to abruptly thrust those blades at the beasts eyes. That simple motion is enough to dislodge the 'Auras' of wind magic that have since gathered about the swords, at once serving to sending a pair of unnaturally keen 'distortions' of air hurtling towards the dragons eyes..and serving as an improvised means of hurling the Revenant away from the dragon, so as to aid in avoiding the inevitable retaliation.
Ueoud wasn't really carrying the emotional capacity to be glad that those swords weren't coming back, not yet. They'd keep burning until they sank into whatever soft target they inevitably ran into. There would be more then one surprise casualty of 'sword out of goddamn nowhere', hopefully. Abandoning the final sword to just drop it, instead, as the kensai bullrushes him, instead, to unleash a torrent of furious fire. The other swords had been evaded with ease, and with Kas coming headon, missing with the directed flames would be much harder to do and more sheerly destructive. Directed, a stream, and given how limited the outpouring was elsewhere on its body by all considerations, the tempest of dark fire would be incredibly bad to remain anywhere near. Doing nothing would see the kensai nstantly crisped. Ideally, the force of the unslaught would serve as a damper on Kas' bullshit at the very least, while it superheated the air and made it equally a bad idea to just breathe it. Every breath would serve to set the lungs afire with dark burning magics, which the Surgeon General asserts should be avoided by all living things. Under it all, the breath unleashing was actually to stunlock Kas in some way, as the wily kensai would find a way to deflect or avoid the worst of it, but each evasion cost him time. Time that suddenly became precious as the dragon was bearing down even as it breathed out, to snare with claws that catch once more.
Kasyr s' reaction to a mass of black fire isn't all that different from his original plan, save that it occured that much faster- the inverted momentum provided by the release of those 'blades' of condensed wind energy abused to its' utmost so as to avoid a blitzkrieg-turned-barbecue. Likely, the expulsion of energy wouldn't survive that consuming flame, or even do much should it emerge from the other side as a globule of fire- but at this point, the Kensai is more conserved with the fact that the Dragon is moving once again, effectively bringing it's perpetual flamethrower with it. That simple fact is what coaxes the revenant into using the momentum he had already built up, to promptly begin diving back down towards the ruined fountain. During the descent, the Kensai presses those elegant blades of his together- coaxing the weapons to meld together so that both his hands might curl about the hilt. With startling suddeness, Gospel discards the guise of a Katana, instead taking on the recogniseable guise of a six foot broad sword; a weapon that despite it's lack of any edge, still carries a sizeable amount of threat if only due to the unnatural weight it possesses in this guise. It's with this weapon in hand, and a surge of lightning that consumes all the surface tissue upon Kasyrs left hand, that the Kensai slams into the ground; that swift invocation of his abilities allowing him to precipitate a sudden explosive shockwave of kinetic force from his sword. With the blade already buried into the stone, and thus provoking an intense crack in the ground, it's no wonder that the ensuing shockwave serves to blow apart the rock in a swelling spray of stone. What's more, is that at any bit of resistance that Kasyr meets only provokes yet -another- flash of lightning, the consumption of palm sized chunks of flesh mattering very little to the Revenant as he seeks to burrow straight into the ground- so as to wrench straight into whatever reservoir of blood might still reside undergound. With any luck, it would hopefully send a spray of liquid up towards the fire breathing monstrosity, momentarily obfuscate his presence, and allow him to continue his burrowing straight into the sewer. From there, he'd hopefully gain a few moments to leech whatever residual blood might be pumping into the area through his particular vampiric gift...with relative impunity, if only because his scent will be masked by either the pungent scent of Vailkrins sewer, and or the fountain of blood. Ideally, it also sets him up nicely for a counter-offensive. Ideally. Fighting a monstrous pseudo-elemental of darkness and fire hasn't been the most ideal of situations asofar.
The flow of fire cuts off as Kas blasts off using the stored wind magic he'd been placing into his blade. Eyes that burn with hate track the kensai's descent into the ground. Wings fold and it goes into a dive of its own. Claws outstretch, grasping for the kensai. Kas' impact and bringing of Gospel to bear on the ground itself was the thing that saved Kas, as it caused the claws to miss just so. Perhaps a clip of his wing would be sheared off, or a cut in from those talons. The second wave would push the dragon away *just* enough to afford him the time to drill down. But then Ueoud was on his trail again. As the kensai burrows down, a bellow of sheer rage as his prey escapes. And then no time wasted as fire was breathed down the hole Kas made. An excellent way to flush out burrows, it would ideally be just as useful to clear out this hole Kas made. Even if the tunnel had been collapsed, more heat and dregs of darkfire would be hot on his heels. But Ueoud doesn't stick around to keep breathing fire down the hole and open himself up to a Gospel-from-the-ground. Wings snap out and it takes flight, "YOUR CITY WILL BURN, KASYR!" If the kensai would hide, then the dragon would take its rage out on the city proper, instead. Another target selected, Hemlock Way. The dwellings assaulted with intense flames to burn them to the ground, and anyone that might have been hiding in them. Systematically, one by one, house by house. The longer Kas dallied, the more would be lost. The dragon was keeping the heat on.
Ehli || It was a quiet night and Elizabeth was behind her desk, Normally apathetic on what is happening outside as long as she is safe in her mansion. The compound was more of a fortress than a house, it has a structural integrity of a castle that could withstand almost anything with enough guards to make up a small private army. Safe it is, With Guard towers, patrols and crossbowmen hiding in the trees around the compound. Wondering what to do next, Elizabeth started tapping her table quietly, They would have mined enough Elerium within a week... but how to power them? all this pondering was halted when a bell rang. The communication post. It was a bunch of pipes, ropes and bells that run around the compound, each pipe is paired with a bell and labelled where it is coming from. This time it was Guard Tower Eight. Moving from her seat, she pulled the rope once to respond, "Yes?" The voice on the other end was a bit distorted, multiplied three-fold as the sound had ricocheted through the pipe, "Captain... We have to show you something." Ehli took a decent sized mirror and hanged it by the pipe. It was a technique she learned when she found herself in a Cenrillian Outpost, oh how humans have done such innovation with magic and other things. The guard on the other end records what he saw through the scope into a runestone. The stone was next placed by the pipe's end, using the pipe as a direct line toward the mirror, showing what was recorded to it. Frowning, Ehli leaned closer and replied, "I see fire... and lots of it... been burning for a while I presume..." checking the map mounted on the wall, "Vailkrin." The guard responded at once, "Yes Captain... It had been burning for a while now, we thought eventually the city's authorities will put it out soon so we did not disturbed you... we were wrong..." Tapping her chin a few times, "I don't think we could do anything to help in this one really... We both know we won't be able to spare water for them... unless we are planning to stay at the city of dead that long.." The guard waited for a while, "Captain... its not the fire we are worried... this one is taken earlier..." a new feed was sent through the pipe, frowning, scrutinizing the image, "Wait... is that a dragon?" as if trying to clear the image, wiping the mirror a few times to no avail. Yes.. it was a dragon, it can be seen at the outline of the fire. Grinning she said, "Sound the alarm." Klaxon rang through out the mansion, crewmen was suddenly forced off there barracks and rush toward the armory for supplies, Even the maids was moving with them, changing their uniforms and rushing toward either the lift or the stairs. Ehli on the other hand suited for battle, Light plate armor and coat. Moving toward her personal lift as the crew scrambles to get into formation by the ship's port. Standing before them, smiling, "Evening Ladies..." The crew stood straighter than ever. watching as 2 men guide her gryphon into the ship before finally talking her men, "Vailkrin is being attacked as we speak, even though we have not established anything with that city, it is still our job to protect them... even though they are already dead in the first place. I would require your full cooperation and skills for this matter, I am raising the threat level to Crimson for this mission." She could feel the uneasiness upon her men from just staring at them, any level beyond red means one, some or even maybe all of them could die within this mission, "Those who want to volunteer, stay, Others may go." She waited for a a whole three seconds and no one left their line. "I want everyone in full battle readiness, We are going in ten. Move out!" the crew saluted all at once, "Yes Captain!" rushing toward the ship's port and fore entrances, filling the ship with activity, readying for their sail.
Vaidhe :: It is the way of more aged dragons, particularly those who have spent centuries in the quiet of little more than their own companionship, to observe before acting. So Vaidhe has done, circling so far above the battlefield below that he might have seemed little more than a reflection of sunlight to the trained eye; using cloud-cover and intermittent luminescence to minimize the likelihood of his being spotted before he wishes, the great golden dragon has for many tense moments battened his focus upon the tainted black dragonlike elemental and the revenant below him. Both targets might well deserve the scourge of Vaidhe's fire, but the larger creature's more wanton craving for general purposeless destruction renders him a greater threat in the gold saurian's regard. Thus he descends, using the momentum of his great bulk and well-tucked wings to speed his fall but not allowing wind currents or raw velocity to take him over completely. He does not bellow or roar or announce his presence in any other way, but his planned counterstroke is no less murderous in its intent. Vaidhe's great lungs begin to expand as a stream of cool air enters them; as if in parallel, a great funnel of debris begins to whirl upward from the street, bits of pulverized stone and torched trees from both sides of the road. As Vaidhe grows close enough for his hellish attack to take form, he expels a superheated blast of holy fire into the midst of this cloud of detritus, imparting to it as well the opposite of the kinetic force impelled upon it as it rose. The result is simplistic but potentially lethal for any caught in the infernal cone: tons of broken stones, bent trees and charred wooden beams, not to mention a maelstrom of intense golden fire, bursts downward with Vaidhe at its apex and the condemned dragon-elemental creature in the epicenter of the blast. Should it be unfit to stand up to the punishment, its living body will be pummelled apart by holy-imbued debris of all different kinds, while being bathed in a torrent of righteous flames.
Kasyr s' crash landing into the sewers can best be summed up as a semi-controlled catastrophe, the Revenant crashing into the ground in such a manner that his blade buries itself into the ground before he does- thereby providing himself a brace for when he lands into a kneeling position. Most importantly, however, that buried sword grants the Kensai an 'anchor' of sorts to shove off of, thereby throwing himself clear of the inevitable gout of flame that crashes into that fetid corridor. It's only when the dragons attention drifts elsewhere that the Revenant is granted the time to observe the chaos left in the Saurians wake, to take in the dull sound of debris plunking into the ranic liquid which coats the sewer floor, and the pungent scent which fills the air- due to the portions which slowly smolder as the overall 'mass' creeps along. Momentarily free of the beast scrabbling and spewing at the hole, the Kensai stretches his wings out- though the left one hangs raggedly, reduced to a ruin by a long gouge, and a number of debris-caused puncture marks. For the briefest of moments, the Revenant considers allowing himself a moment- to see if his gift might grasp upon something within the depths of the sewer, or if a suitable source might not be able to be 'created'. From somewhere within those long passages, there's a mingled sound of voices thats drifts up; promising Kasyr all the delights and boons that come of a meal. The undead beasts threats are quick enough to quell those thoughts, however, that enraged threat drowning out both the sounds of the sewer, and the thoughts that had been stirred up by them- instead leaving one other alternative: To tip his hand, and call upon the whole of what resided within him, for better or worse- so long as it was enough to save his city and what he'd worked for. With that thought serving as a point of focus, the Kensai begins to draw upon that vast reserve of energy so oft contained within him- dredging the depths of their power, if only begin pouring it out through that insidious black aura of his. Tendrils of darkness made physical are quick enough to emerge out from every shadowed crease along Kasyrs person, and from the whole of his shadow, rapidly overtaking the portion of the tunnel he's in- before promptly burrowing into the wall, so that the Kensai can promptly 'drag' himself clear of the sewers. Emerging from the ground akin to some unseemly spider composed of darkness and increasingly large wisps of an ethereal blue flame, the Revenant seems like some creature out of a childs nightmare- and the ominous black feeling that exudes from his person only deepens with every passing moment. But then, that's not entirely surprising given the profound darkness that rests within Kasyr; Elazuls' curse, the vampirism that the Kensai has embraced, and a second more insidious darkness- Khasads' curse, a taint which had fested in Ahkalls soul since the time the dark immortal had tainted the lands he'd passed through...and passed on to the Kensai when he had consumed the wyrms spiritual essence. It's this which resonates with the environs, twisting the stomachs of even the dead- as that creeping darkness grows ever larger, and ever nearer to the dragon.
Ueoud was fixated on burning the city to draw out the kensai. Its fires burned hot with hatred and the festering darkness within. To call it an elemental might have been highly appropriate, given how the shell around it was serving as a sort of pressure cooker of sorts. The distraction works to Vaidhe's benefit. It didn't even look as the gold gathered his maelstrom to wield it against the thing of flame. Fire and debris hit it, neither of which would have even registered, if it hadn't been the flames of a gold. The anti thesis to what the creature *was*, entirely. A red dragon by birth and death, aged to the point of legendary status, and then killed, to be raised as a creature so powerful that the coven that did it could only chain it. Released by that same coven to be bound by a drow with the ability to interconnect, possess, and empower the undead, the creature was made of hate, darkness, and the need to absolutely destroy. Its hide boils as the holy flames bathe it, but it was still larger then Vaidhe by having a few thousand years on the gold. It had some to spare. Its wounds ran deep, however, as its core was hit by holy. It doesn't stand for this, however. Hatred runs through its entire being, from tail to snout, and the counterattack of black flames erupts right back at Vaidhe, hot with its malice and the flames of what it once was. Where it was weak to the holy fires, perhaps Vaidhe would be weak to the black flames. If not, then the sheer virtue of the fact that he was living would. The flames burned, even beyond what mere fire would do, to rend and tear at the essence of any living thing. That, and a little more. A shard of its hate, imbued into its own fires, to sink into Vaidhe if it could. A corruption, to spread. Given time, it would turn Vaidhe into something similiar to what it was in itself. The blast of fire meeting the holy flames, intermixing and backlash abound, wings claw to gain air. It had a slight advantage over Vaidhe: it didn't need to breath. Thus, its fires poured out and out in the only way it knew how to take care of the things it hated as it rose, one wing of flesh, the other of fire. Kasyr's transformation was ignored, its hatred of the kensai eclipsed by its newfound hate of the gold that dared attack it.
Ehli waited for ten minutes to pass by as the crew work. Standing near the communication post of the ship, few meters from the wheel, she had been staring at the horizon where flames seem to catch her attention. Finally she cleared her throat, "Is Everyone Ready?" her voice was clear and firm. One after another the squads replied to her. "This is Guns Port Deck three to five ready and waiting Captain!" "Starboard cannons Deck three to five loaded and ready Sir!" "This is Fore side Thunder-ridged are loaded for a full-salvo." and so on, Ehli grinned alittle and said, "All hands on deck... ready yourselves boys... we are hitting the black." Thunderous battle cries suddenly boomed through out the ship as everyone continued their work, "Boiler! I want a hundred ten percent power now!" the engineer on the other end replied crisply, "Yes Captain!" Steam started venting toward the sides of the ship, all pointed downward as Ehli took her flute and started to play a quick song. Those who could hear started singing along and eventually all members are singing with the beat. Fueling her mana toward the flute as barriers was raised around the ship, the steam is being held prison underneath the ship, With the water used for the boiler is kept on the belly, the steam seems to create fog as the vast amount of water cools down the steam filling the barrier with thick air. The same way when a person fills a bucket with water, because there no other place to go, the water raises, but now with the thickness of the air, the ship started to raise from the floor.. it does not fill the inside of the ship because all vessels are supposed to be sealed tight to stop water from finding any hole... and same goes with air. As the ship raises from to the air, good thing the dock was on the mansion's roof, With clouds already within reach, it started whirling around them. This is why Ehli loved nature, it is like an infinite dance, She doesn't have to continue playing once they are up there, the clouds will literally 'catch' them wanting to compensate with the excessive steam the ship is releasing, creating an artificial storm under them. Rune stones aren't magically powerful, but using more than a hundred of it could make a difference, this stones are placed around the ship's rim balancing the ship in place as the storm dense(s) itself under them. Runes fueled with heat as each was engraved into lava stones causing each rune to allow heat as an alternative source of power. Underneath is rune is the pipe where the steam is vented. The pipe heats up as steams moves through balancing the ship in place. Once the ship is in the air, they would start sailing forward the storm will follow suit, like a spark following a trail of gunpowder. A bit exhausted she stuffs her flute back to her back pocket and turned to the scope, watching the destruction as it rages. Frowning, she was something else, it was a pair of smoke far from others... Larket as the map says so. Someone is in the Larketian forest? And trees are missing from that spot... odd. Ehli moved away from the scope and went to the communication post, "Boiler.. Continue on emergency speed." the engineer replied, "Yes Captain... Running in one hundred ten percent. Overheat in eighteen minutes." Ehli acknowledged this, turning her head toward the pair of smoke... it was too odd for those things to be there. ringing a pipe twice as she said, "Bottom Aft... is the Marionettes there?" Marionettes is a squad of acrobats that is skilled for dangerous missions. they are also the maids of the mansion, they are trained to jump off the ship through the bomb bay doors with nothing than a thick high tension cable so they could be either instant reinforcement or high-speed extraction team. "Amirah here Captain." Ehli was glad that the elf was there, one of her most trusted crew members, "Amirah, there is a pair of smoke between us and our target, we will pass it in a few minutes, I want you to hail me when it moves once we did pass. Either send a few or simply watch... your call." it took a few while before the dancer replied again, "Yes Captain." this is getting alittle difficult... too much unknowns... why are they going here anyway? is she just risking there lives for what??
Vaidhe has been careful to maintain a bit of distance from the ground so as to leave great enough vertical space between attacker and target that reaction need not be instantaneous. He bares his huge teeth in a wordless saurian snarl as he sees the hellish punishment wrought upon the ungainly beast below him, but does not wait to observe his foe's counterattack to begin enacting his defense; it has long been Vaidhe's understanding that when outmatched by a stronger foe, you must think faster than he, and act yet faster still. So believing, Vaidhe begins to impart his will to the plane of air below him and above his opponent. As he bells his wings and begins to climb, the golden dragon's mind is trained tightly on that blanket of air, envisioning it not as life-giving breeze but more as a collection of tiny specks in a near limitless void. These specks he begins to shepherd together with the force of his powerful arcane might, the result of which is swift and rather surprising, given the gold dragon's previous assault. A great block of compressed, frigid air forms above the elemental dragon of hatred and then, released from Vaidhe's imminent control, drops atop it just as its horrible fire bursts forth. The result is that Vaidhe is spared the grand majority of that searing blast, but is instead harried higher as his enemy climbs to meet him by billowing clouds of steam which, while painful, seem to lack the lethality posed by the raw black fire itself. The shard of corruption, a thing more sensed than fully understood, seems to have also been nullified by Vaidhe's counter-offensive, turning the more liquid part of his conjured fog-bank into a brief but intense blast of acid rain on the ground below, a drenching which will no doubt foul the ground to an even greater extent than might be true already. The gold dragon has long schooled himself to not let his pain impact either his flying or his combat; well-singed but still very much intact, he ascends in a quickening spiral for a short time, before once more angling his head down. Instead of releasing that same superheated jet of holy fire as before, Vaidhe's exhalation this time brings a veritable coverlet of the stuff, a drifting mantilla of flames which look to have the consistency of bubbling oil. As it drops, intent on smearing itself all over the greater beast's form, this covering of flames seems to hiss balefully even as Vaidhe's first sound, a primal deafening roar, rips outward, an unearthly challenge for this airborne foe who would dare consider itself his better.
Kasyr s' abysmal expansion halts as swiftly as it had begun, if only so that mass of darkness and blue flame can begin twisting upon itself and receding- serving to unveil the Revenant within. Stripped of that blackened shell, Kasyr is once more readily observable- a fact that is aided by the trails of ethereal blue flame which cling to his skin, and the discordant arcs of black electrical energy which pulses out in arcing 'webs' across his body. Were someone capable of discerning his physical state, they'd likely gawk, if only because his flesh seemed to be in a seemingly perpetual state of transition, portions of his body ionizing at random, whilst others rapidly regenerate. The Kensai only ceases to move once that mass of vile liquid begins to rain down from the heavens, some primal part of him recognizing the inherant darkness within the liquid. With nary a second thought, the Revenant draws his right arm across his face- an action which coaxes a large mass of darkness out from his back, loosely taking on the form of a large clawed 'hand' which likewise mirriors his arms movement..and grants him an improvised 'umbrella'. A moment is wasted to wriggle his fingers and see his contemplation confirmed when the construct mirrors the action, before the Kensais' expression narrows and his attention drifts right back up the black dragon. From Kasyr comes a silent summon, a singular violent demand directed to the sentient blade he'd left behind in the sewers, serving to wrench it free from its stoney sheathe- if only to coax it into materializing about his arm in the form of an ominous black gauntlet. That last bit of preperation aside, the Kensai promptly surges up through the air in a bolt of corrupted lightning, effectively poised to charge towards the undead dragons back, if only so that he can extend that 'arm-like' construct of darkness towards the dark Saurians back and effectively try and ensure it's caught in Vaidhes attack. Ideally, the Kensai seeks to shove it -through- that mass of fire, if only to pull himself through the gap the undead dragons body will create in that veil of flame, and than try and direct that wretched beast towards the ground.
Kirien had sensed it from afar. The stench of some malign malice is a hard thing for someone as perceptive as he to miss, after all. It whispered to him on the wind like the faint roar of some hell spawned beast, dulled over distance, flirting with the very edges of his senses but still quite -there-; and with his insatiable curiosity, there's no way he could resist coming out to see just what the form of this bitter storm's conjuror is. So now he's astride a veritable streak of lightning that crosses the darkened skies with frightening speed - Nameless, a smaller breed of wyvern, makes up for his lack of size by being one of the fastest creatures around, and is Kirien's first choice when it comes to venturing into what is likely a battle zone. Touching down atop some derelict and as-of-yet untouched building in Vailkrin, Nameless' eye is on the sky while Kirien tries to assess the situation, skidding down the tiled rooftop to land amidst chaos in the streets below. He follows the crackle of black fire and the familiar sensation of his sire, headed further into the centre of town. What is clearly the enemy in his mind (an opinion he shares with the city, surely) is naught but a writhing mass of hateful emotions somewhere high above his head, which leads to some confusion on the blind vampire's part as he races through the streets, a wraith with questions he can't answer on his own. "The hell is going on?!" He yells that at the nearest guardsman, does not even give him time to answer - instead he simply grabs the man and forces his head skywards, a subtle connection made through that contact allowing him to, very briefly, perceive the world through his eyes instead. And those eyes, seeing, bring the terrible image of the dragon into view. Kirien feels his breath leave him in a shaky exhale of a rather uncouth remark, before he's shoving away from the guardsman and on the run again, but still taking himself toward the centre of this mess. It doesn't take an idiot to work out what's going on and how dangerous this is, but maybe Kirien is an idiot for remaining even when he knows. Leaps and bounds bring him to the ruined fountain and it's there he begins to try to slow down, boots skidding haphazardly across the cobblestones even as he's twisting the half-molten rock further out of shape, wrenching it from the pavement. Broken stones, loose earth stained with blood - all of this coalesces into a sphere that steadily grows larger and, wreathed with an aura of golden magic, hovers a foot or so off the ground, directly in Kirien's path. There's a reason for this, of course, because Kirien is aiming for that magical projectile, rushing forward and bringing a leg up so as to slam his boot against the sphere's surface. Oddly enough, it is not immediately sent skywards; instead the momentum built up during his run is forced into the thing, used to power it further, and effectively send it rocketing up for the dragon spewing black flame and hateful sensations alike as some sort of golden ball of ballistic energies and incredible force. The fiery trail of the sphere splays out behind it like a comet's tail as Kirien ducks off and to the right, and throws himself through the remains of a building's doorway in order to avoid the deluge of corrupt liquid raining down.
Ueoud, somehow, hated the world a little more. It's rage was somewhat akin to the Hulk's, the more it was stoked, the more it *burned*. And burn it did, hot enough to begin to melt its own shell. Vaidhe's sticky flames were corrupted, nearly immediately, from the outpourings of the omniloathing that it was. Its entire body, engulfed in flames, pain of the holy searing receeding into the far more painful world of madness. Its fragile mindstate was shattering, cracking apart. Hate, hate, hate, HATE. The emotional imprint it would leave on the city would be there for generations to come. All tactics fly out of its head. All subtly, whatever shreds it might have held, gone. Its own shell was showing signs of that fragmentation, which were worsened by Kirien and Kasyr's joint efforts. Whatever construct Kasyr inserted into the thing's back would no longer exist. That burning transcended mere fire, mere magic, mere reality. It became oblivion. Hot enough that reality itself was scorched. Jaws open and agony pours forth, the air screaming as it was unmade by the jet's passage. No one was the target of that ire, no one in particular. It was there, more a trap then anything. Even as the jet passed and the fires ceased, a line of dark hung there, a fissure in the sky. In animialistic rage, it resorts to crude tactics. Vaidhe, there in its sights, impossible to miss. It lunges forward, a train made of all the aforementioned anthemalice, to grip, to rend, to tear. It didn't care what Vaidhe threw at it. It didn't care what damage it would take in this lunge. It didn't care, it didn't stop. It wanted to bring Vaidhe to the ground, to kill him, to unmake him. Streams of fire and madness pour from its mouth but it didn't think to fire a jet that would have done more damage then its lunge. The scales of what it was were cracking, furious *something* issuing forth. It had just gone from living on borrowed time to tens of minutes at best. Down below, the ground was pelted with shards of scale, bone, tissue, dark fires. Vaidhe's only hope was to use his sole advantage of sanity, counter act and enact a plan before he was killed. Or anyone else caught in the thing's ire.
Ehli taps the deck floor impatiently as the ship hovered by the edge of city, "Hail them." turning the wheel as if the whole ship was a sporting yacht as she force it to stay on its course. The ship cannot actually 'stay' in one spot, doing so would create a storm too big for Ehli to control. moving in slow steady circles as she looked at the operators, one of them shook his head as no one seemed to respond the hail. feeling a bit more aggravated by this, she knew that not all cities use runes to communicate so there is only 3 things to consider, One. They don't use runes, Two They are ignoring her or they don't want help, Three. They are all dead. taking the communicator off the man's hand as she said, "Hail them again! this time I want it on all channels, I don't care whether its an old man's rune hearing aid or something similarly stupid sounding. I said All." turning toward the city as she pronounce they arrival once more, "This is Elizabeth Mistfall of the Cradle of Dawn, Do you need assistance? Please Respond." putting down it down again as one responded... oh wait, its not from the city, it was from Bottom Aft. "Amirah, Status?" The dancer responded in a sad tone, "The smoke had followed us, could be seen from the trees fallen as it carved through the forest... no response to the team I sent." Ehli cannot keep this ship here any longer, She does not know what was following them, unknowns makes alot of complications in missions like this, but going forward would risk the crew's welfare as they might get shot down from entering the airspace, Finally reaching to a point that she has to decide, "Crew, Hang on to your boots, were going in... expect AA fire."
Vaidhe is a dragon of long years, having braved many dire perils and obstacles in his lifetime; perhaps the greatest lesson learned from all of them is that fear is an alloying element, not truly a foe. One must recognize fear as a fundamental and rational response to dangerous stimuli, and react accordingly. In the face of this onrushing monstrosity of hatred and torment, Vaidhe once again knows fear, perhaps the greatest he has yet known in his centuries of life. Instead of letting this new emotion master him completely, the golden dragon sends his joy to war with it...the joy of being free in the sky to fly where he pleases, the joy of being his own master, the joy at simple existence and its promise of continuation. These concepts lend to his wings their grace as he moves, lends to his body its resolve as it endures the buffeting inferno that bears down upon him. This way and that Vaidhe begins to wheel, moving more and more quickly but never giving in to the desperation which might seize a lesser being. He dares not meet this creature face-on, and so the dragon begins a weaving retreat, arching his body so that head and tail both are aimed vaguely toward the ruined ground below. His girth is less and his speed consequently greater; Vaidhe is able to thusly avoid, by acrobatics and raw agility, the rending claws and snapping maw, but he is far from uninjured as those black flames constantly lick and lap at his shoulders and the front edges of his wings. The currents thrust airborne by Vaidhe's great wings serve as errant and impromptu baffles against the worst of his foe's hideous devilry. By luck alone does Vaidhe avoid the rift in the air, the aforementioned trap awaiting prey, and plunges past it. At last, pressed to his extreme, the golden dragon realizes that his only remaining option has been reached...unless one counts suicide, and this Vaidhe will simply never do. He wrenches his body into a sideways roll, rams his body forward even as the bones in his left wing crackle and crunch with the momentum and, while still spinning pistons down and below his opponent toward the ground. Falling headlong toward the tainted earth, Vaidhe conjures about himself, as a last-ditch defense, a sort of holy shield, an expulsion of fire which spreads over his own flesh, illuminating him brightly for all to see as he quickly closes the distance and slams hard into the ground. The ignition when holy meets dark is cataclysmic...a terrific blast which thunders upward and outward, amplified by the golden dragon's terrible scream of agony. Grounded, crippled by the breaking of one wing and sorely injured besides, Vaidhe nonetheless bugles his joy at this tremendous outletting of energy, this rebalancing of light and dark, up toward his enemy above, hoping that this last concussion might, in combination with the others he has noticed in pitched battle, finally fell this damned avatar of damnation.
Kirien's head aches. The steady waves of emotion emanated by the dragon are so utterly vile and horrific that, without barriers, they're already beginning to affect his psyche. Still, the feelings he's pushing away are nothing compared to what effectively slams against the empath's mind when the dragon's own fragments, and it hates and hates and -hates- until it's all Kirien can feel. He can avoid fire, and the caustic liquid that rained down before, but against this he's completely unprotected, naked and vulnerable in the face of such oppressive and omnipresent malice. He stumbles, cries out in shock and pain, and loses the strength in his legs as his knees buckle and he falls to the ground. Half-hidden by the skeleton of a building, he trembles and shakes, breathing harshly, his lungs full of poison. All thoughts leave his mind save the desperate urge to escape, to breathe clear, to break free of this heavy, hateful aura that cloaks the city-- and in the end, he finds himself clinging to happiness. Memories that lighten his heart are his salvation and they're netted together through the unconscious, jerky motions of base survival instinct so as to form some sort of guard against the onslaught. His eye takes on a distinctly golden sheen as his head snaps back and he stares blindly skywards, up at roiling black clouds and darkness; then, the light he silently called out for makes itself known. Slowly at first, then with more life, a gold band seems to emerge directly from Kirien's forehead, sporting the image of a sun upon its front as it winds its way entirely about the vampire's head and secures itself in place. Bemused, Kirien reaches to inspect the curious thing, touching what appears to be silken material while slowly standing. He's knocked right back down again when Vaidhe's sacrificial actions end with the gold dragon crashing into the city to send a blast divine light spearing for the heavens, but he quickly regains his feet. The empathic barrier created prior to the virtuous Arte's manifestation helps stave off some of the black feelings - not all, but enough that Kirien is no longer crippled by it and can focus. Like Vaidhe, he meets darkness with something akin to its opposite, forcing not just earth magic but a concentration of his own emotion into a second rocky sphere that once more is kicked up for Ueoud with every intention of smashing into whatever the beast is made of and detonating within it. The likely result would be a literal explosion of near-tangible happiness, derived from Kirien's most treasured of memories, coupled with the destructive force of the world's magic that's capable of tearing through the most hardy of substances.
Kasyr can't help but grimace as contract with the dark dragons essence rends away at the construct his will has created- hindering his efforts to help in this battle. Still, the things ensuing chase with Vaidhe gives the Revenant some time to recompose himself, to grant that peculiar 'phantom' limb more solidity- the Revenant beginning to divert more and more power to the thing until it's a monstrous mimicry of the angular gauntlet which encases his right hand, crackling viciously with lightning. It's only then that the Kensai proceeds to hurtle down towards the dragon and Vaidhe, wings arcing back to provide as much aid in making his descent as swift as possible. Even despite the explosion of sacred energy which ripples out from Vaidhe, Kasyr continues his descent- barreling down towards the pair; even though proximity forces him to fly through air laden with motes of energy which hiss and burn at his flesh. For a sparse moment, it seems as though the whole of the Kensais body is smoking, as though his very existance might be threatened, as his wings abruptly rupture into a corona of darkened electrical energy; And yet it's that ionization of flesh that heralds the beginning of the Revenants veritable plan. His initial flight downwards has been carefully enough planned, to provide the dragon some manner of predicting where the Kensai would be, and how fast he could move- an estimation that would hopefully work against the beast as the Revenant effectively hurtles towards the corrupted saurian akin to a streak of lightning, wreathed in a primal energy which hasn't been felt since Solaris or the Ascendi last roamed. An energy which -composes- that caliginous fist while it's being wound back, and most certainly when it hurtles forward to crash into the dragon. Whether or not that initial impact is made, the Revenants -other- wing promptly ionizes,finally drawing forth an unholy shriek of agony from the Kensai...and serving as the 'fuel' to the open 'handed' lunge of the construct- as the Kensai seeks to slam that massive 'gauntlet'd' shape into the dragons body, drag it down streets made empty, and send it hurtling down the ravine that leads into Vailkrin, and into one of the cliff walls.
Ueoud was beyond it all. The most accurate thing to call it would be its name. It was, simply that, an engine. A machine. Pushing along, the singular goal of destroying what was in front of it. Vaidhe's acrobatics were his salvation. Ueoud was straight lining. Predictable as all hell. Flames issuing out to lick at nothing, leaving a long and ugly rend in the sky behind. As Vaidhe unleashes his desperation attack, and Kirien shucks off the chains of the emotional onslaught, it quite literally forgets that Vaidhe was even there the second he disappeared in the flash of light. It didn't long to contemplate who to pick next. The secondary onslaught was too much. Rather then each and every single attack having a different effect on it, it simply...breaks free of the shell. The flesh was consumed, burnt, shucked off. Holy fire destroys the scales. Kirien's rock-bomb blew off the flesh. Kasyrs' dark lightning atomized the bones that remained. The effect would be all very spectacular. It was an engine of destruction, to be sure, but its minutes were ticking up. Its own forces were tearing itself apart. It needed very little encouragment to fling apart to do so, truly. Positive energy from two sources, shake vigorously, and then shatter like you just didn't give a damn. Streaks of darkness grasp as they explode outwards, rending the air once more. Imagine a pressure cooker that simply overpressured in the most spectacular fashion physically possible. The shockwave from it flattens buildings and trees if there were any present. Given that Vaidhe led it towards the forest, an enormous amount of property and lives were saved, at the cost of a not-so insignificant portion of the Dead Forest. As it did, a pyschic outburst accompanied it, the life of the two minds that had made it up strewn over the area like so much ash in the wind. Fragments, not only of the furious hate, float, nearly incomprehensible. The feeling of memories burning, the ones strewn, was nearly inescapable. None of the memories of those present would be touched, but the feeling of loss, as if they had, would settle down, such was the pressure. The life of two long lived creatures burnt and thrown to the wind and trickling down. There was something left, the flames that had poured forth from the wounds that issued forth. There would be no second form or another fight, however. All fuel had been burned. Two souls extinguished, a dragon's fire burnt out, dark energies tapped. All that remained was the elemental itself, its core. And it was all around Kasyr, stuck to the kensai from his blow. Shrouding all around him, they burned fiercely as they did when issued from the former shell's maw. There was no thought behind it, however. What happened next was merely the step by step of a simple process. It would burn intensely as the gasps ran out, and then collapse into a singularity as it all gave out, much in the same way that last dregs of fuel in a propane take flare as it dies, with Kas right in the middle of it as it petered out. No imprints would be enforced upon the kensai. No energies to absorb, as they were all gone. Not emotions, for they were strewn out into the land. Nothing but the last of it all. And then it was over. No final messages, save for what had been scattered inadvertently. Dead silence. The reek of ionized air everywhere. The slow sobbing of some citizen, terrified beyond all belief. The gentle hiss of air from the rends made as it creeps back into place. Crackling from the parts of the city that were aflame.
Kasyr s' scream seems to go on endlessly, a wretched hoarse cry that seems to defy the very fact that there should be no air to breathe- that carries on despite the fact that the Revenants lungs should have scorched to ash upon the very fist breath. And yet, perhaps they did, if only for that wretched form of regeneration to force them into existance again, if only so that they can be reduced to ruin once more. And yet, despite his agony, something could be heard -laughing- all around him; a hideous cacophony of sibilant cackles which seemed to have no fixed point of origin, and carried an almost echoic property to it. Stronger and stronger it grows, even as the flames within the area continue to die out and weaken- and as that peculiar shadowy construct grows larger and larger. :Gauntleted" fingers link together, if only to split apart, thicken and join together once more- again and again, the process growing ever faster. And as that process hastens, the Revenants own healing begins to slow, that curious semi constant regeneration faltering, even as electrical energies continue to ionize flesh at a ravenous rate. Kasyrs mind is a chaotic battlefield at this point; a discordant meeting of suffering, rage, Gospels presence (after it had been silent for so long)...and a single overbearing logical thought: If this continued, he was going to die and it was finally going to go free. It's that thought that tempers his actions, and helps grant him the focus and strength to draw his arm up above his head, whilst his left hand closes shut about his wrist. Even during those motions, the gauntlet about the Revenants hand starts to unwind- the scales receding into the larger beast. And then, all at once, it feels itself no longer nestled against the Revenants flesh- an event that coaxes it into releasing a jubilant shriek into the air. At least, until it abruptly feels the monumental surge of electrical energy surge through it's body...and through the -sword- that was now within the Revenants hand. After all, even in its current state, it's 'weapon' guise still heeds Kasyrs 'commands'...and It's -alot- easier to send a Katana lancing up through the heavens with enough electrical energy to light up a lake..then it is to a gauntlet which enclosed ones hand. More than that, given that Gospel isn't fully freed of the constraints of being bound to Kasyr, it still possesses that peculiar degree of weightlessness -even- in it's slowly forming serpentile form..and the conductivity that it posseses as a weapon. It short, it manages to elicit one particularily odium-filled explicitive before it's promptly sent hurtling away from the Kensai and into the atmosphere. Far, Far away from the energy that was all but on the verge of releasing it. Thus freed from that particular tug of war with the ouroboros, Kasyr promptly allows himself a triumphant "Ha!", coughs up a bit of smoke...and then collapses face first into the ground.
Kirien's shouting orders at a frightened group of city guards as he breaks into a run once again. He says something about putting out the flames as quickly as possible; about tending to the downed gold dragon; about being a vassal of Kasyr's; but he does not bother to check whether or not they'll listen to him. Kirien does not have the look of a noble, really, all windblown hair and cheeks speckled with mud, but there is a certain electric sort of air about him. It's different from Kasyr's aura, with something distinctly -earthy- about it. It's there all the same, though wispy and near-insubstantial, and swiftly fading. Leaving the men to obey or disregard his words, the vampire races through streets choked with fear and something darker, headed in the direction of the city limits and the forest beyond. He knows that something is happening above, something that's not right at all, and he knows Kasyr is somewhere in the midst of it all - of course he understands it's not a wise idea to be running headlong into danger like this, but Kirien cannot quite stop himself when he knows his sire is there. It is not until the remnant of Ueoud essentially implodes on itself and sends him flying that he realises that what he's feeling is the creature's End. He picks himself up slowly, lifting his head. Fragments can be felt all around him, none of them particularly pleasant, but there's still a loss there that prompts the empath into frowning, just briefly, before he continues onwards to the source of that agonised scream. To be honest he's not sure what is going on when he reaches Kasyr, but suddenly Gospel is sent careening off away from the ground, out of his senses even, and he can't help but wonder how far it's going to go. Those thoughts are discarded when Kasyr falls and Kirien runs to catch him, unfortunately misses, and then drops to his knees beside the revenant and lays his hands tentatively on his battered shoulders. "...Just what -was- that?" he asks in an appropriately incredulous tone, even as he knows he's unlikely to get an answer. He sits there for maybe a minute or so in silence before he simply slumps over Kasyr, both his mind and energy reserves utterly exhausted.
Far and away, up on one of Hollow's moons, everything was the same. Today it was utterly empty and sterile, as it was yesterday, and so on and so forth. But then, a certain screamingly angry and hostile entity comes hollering into orbit. Without further ado, it crashes, sending out a sizable crator and a plume of regolith, the stuff that counted as soil on a lunar surface. This would be Gospel's resting place, locked in the ultimate in Time-Out technology, until such that Kasyr saw fit to call it back. For now, however, it would remain in the hole it had made, a crater among craters, to rest. At least until some time in the future when astronauts freed it from its prison, because let's face it. Humanity is stupid and will always dick with things the really oughtn't.
Vaidhe shakes his huge head, stirring from a state of stuporous half-consciousness when his troubled mind dimly informs him that most of the sound and other sensory input has come to a close. He lies still, pain flickering through him in half a hundred different places, breathing in slow, ragged gasps of smoky air and coughing them back out again. The gold dragon knows better than to stand; the attempt would likely result in the breakage of a foreleg, or worse, so he remains in his current position, mustering both his mind and his wounded body for what comes next. He knows, simply by the lack of action around him, that the great dark beast is either dead or fled...the former, if the stench and malevolenee in the air is any indication. With ponderous movements, the dragon unfolds itself and rears up onto all fours, shrivelled scales falling like metallic rain from his burned shoulders, one wing cradled up and over his back though it pains him to do so. It is better to keep that appendage up and out of harm's way than to have it kicked or stepped on as it drags alongside him as he walks. Vaidhe's "walk", such as it is, comes hesitantly, one shambling shrug of a step after the next in an easterly direction. In time, this haphazard motion will take him to some safer place where he can more fully recuperate from his grievous injuries. For now, though, he is alive, and as he reaches the maximum speed of which he is currently capable - a half-stumbling, ground-eating trot - he looses one blaring trumpet of sound, an exaltation of another battle won, where light has triumphed over darkness.
Kasyr feels like he's had a steamroller dropped on him, and then someone hopped up onto it and..wait, no, scratch that- steam rollers don't really work in this context. Fine. Well, it would not be an absurd exaggeration to say he feels like a dragon decided to hop on him, and than casually walk off. On the bright side, without any sort of reason to further focus on utterly obliterating the (un)living hell out of something, the Kensais power is free to withdraw back into himself and fall dormant- thereby halting the excrutiating process of ionization and regeneration. Sure, this means there's a number of bloody holes in the Kensai. But. Well. He's alive? "..Gospel. It's er.. on vacation." Until Further Notice.
Kirien is using a battered revenant as a pillow, as he's very much unconscious. He might have heard those words just before he collapsed though, but it's rather uncertain. He'll probably smack Kasyr later because he's sure this entire mess was his fault somehow.