Geology [Featured Battle]

[Leon Adalbert]

For most of a day, the merchant prince tracked the caravan from Radasanth. He rode off the beaten path, watching and waiting for whatever fate met his father's goods. Too long and too often had deliveries been waylaid, and Leon, heir to the Adalbert fortune, was tasked to find the source of the disruption. Thus, astride a horse bought with his father's coin, he kept steady pace with the rumbling wagons. This proved more difficult than he had first imagined, as the Coronian terrain rose and fell, and threatened to trip his horse, far more than the open steppes of Alerar. The last hour had been spent navigating short cliffs and underbrush, and only as he feared the mission fruitless and the caravan lost did he see the very landscape rise up through the trees. From the opening maw of the earth emerged as ugly a reptilian visage as Leon had ever seen, though examples were fair few.

The blonde rider spurred his horse into a run, and as they closed the distance the drake breathed heavily upon the carts and their guards, coating them in a thick layer of crystal. Within a handful of strides, and to the man's horror, the shards began to explode. Screams rang out from the forest road, and Leon whipped the reins harder as he leaned into a sprint, hooves leaping over the rustling brush. Mid-leap, a crystalline piece of shrapnel shot out of the rubble, lodging itself into the horse's throat, and nearly impaling its rider as well. Man and steed tumbled into the overgrown undergrowth, and Leon quickly became trapped under the beast's crushing weight.

In his rapid approach, and clear struggle to disentangle himself from his equine barricade, the enormous creature turned its gaze briefly on the pair. Leon managed to push the horse off of himself enough to shelter behind its girth, and only by that virtue did he avoid the crystal breath that encased his still-writhing horse. Not knowing how long he had, the pistolier drew his gun, tipping a helping of black powder from a horn on his belt. He pressed the muzzle of his gilded Lily into the flesh of the dying stallion, begged forgiveness, and squeezed the trigger.

Fierce wind roared from the enchanted weapon, launching the explosive beast toward the horde of drakelings that now emerged from the dark depths beneath their sire, and propelling the pistolier tail over teakettle into the thorned bushes by the roadside.

[Hysteria]

The crack and tear of the carts being torn asunder wrapped around the din of fighting and snarls of Draklings. The sounds bounced and rode the wind, like the movements of those fleeing the carts just arrived. Men, women and undefined were thrown, or jumped to the paper thin safety of the roads as their transports were ripped apart

Some rallied quickly, following the pattern of behaver laid down by the previous carts, the same that was eventually trod. Bows flung arrows, cries of help and fear and people panicked. The dragon too followed the same movements as if obeying some written script. It moved towards the carts, ignoring the fighting below of the few weary survivors from the first troupe and heading towards the new arrivers. The giant feet thumped into the earth, a deep sound that vibrated the very soul. The creature’s breath spewed forth again and billowing clouds wrapped and rolled across the ground and across the carts. The dragon had thrown away the aggressive attacks and once again moved to encase the targets in the heavily magic infused green crystal. The attack to the leather straps seemed just a memory now, and the creature sort again to capture.

Easy post, the dragon’s moved towards the new carts and seeks to encase them in crystal. You guys can RP the Draklings as you desire, just remember they should be somewhat armoured, but dumb.

[Lloyd]

Lloyd felt the earth itself shake under the weight of the dragon now barreling towards the survivors of the caravan. He hesitated for a moment before cautiously peeking over the top of what was left of his transport. Even just the sight of this massive behemoth sent shivers down the mystic’s spine. Then the monster opened his jaw and spewed forth a gas of sorts at them. His green breath billowed forth rolling over the carts ahead of his.

The mystic had to forget about this poor donkey lying just in front of him. It would have made a good and faithful steed, but there was no time for that. Many of the survivors dove left and right off the road trying to avoid the possibly deadly cloud. Lloyd was never one for fitting in but he too dove off the road. First he dove for his spade, then once more to get the maximum distance from the green cloud as possible. After struggling to his feet he looked over his shoulder only to see the remains of his carriage and the donkey carcass crystallized as the gas rolled over it.

He sighed before turning only to see off in the distance the survivors of the previous caravan fighting for their lives against smaller versions of the giant dragon. He held firm to his spade and quickly made way across the shrapnel scattered field between them.

“Where are you?!” Lloyd yelled aloud bewildered as he stepped off a wheel of a carriage. “You were only a few carts back damn it!” he yelled again avoiding body after body. Lloyd was not alone on this trip back to the home of the mystic. He had brought back a surprise from his time in the forest. He brought back his father a construct of Pode. He brought his Un-Mother. The dreaded witch tried to play on his sorrows and force him to fight against a version of his passed mother. But he had instead converted her and made her his prized weapon. From behind he heard the familiar screech of his wonderful creation. He could feel her fallowing behind keeping a steady pace.

“Alright, now go and help the men!” he commanded his puppet and as an extension of her she obeyed completely. As the two traversed the mayhem and carnage they quickly became noticed by the smaller dragons foraging for bodies. They were nearing the others by now, Lloyd could see two men fighting just ahead, a black shadowy figure with a bow and a man clenching his leg. “Un-Mother strike these beasts down!” the moment he spoke the words his puppet leapt in the air and claw first landed on one of the dragons circling the two men. She shrieked loudly as he ripped the beast throat asunder. They seemed to both let out a sigh of relief to see some support.

“I’m a field medic how can I help?” the mystic said as he planted his spade in the ground and reached for his medical kit in his bag. The men both seemed to need some attention but the bowman pointed to the other. “Alright, what’s your name and that is the most immediate issue?” he said as he turned to the other man. He could see lacerations all over but he was sure there was something more pressing than minor cuts.

“Logan,” he grunted as he held clutching his chest.

“I’m going to need you to trust me, do you trust me?” he said as he removed from his satchel a bottle of alcohol and a scalpel. “This won’t take long but you can’t fight me.” He went on as shadowy threads sprouted from his wrist. His Un-Mother stood and came close to Lloyd as if to act like a shield for him while he worked. He didn't need long but at a time like this there little time to be squandered.

[Logan]

The psion's eyes danced about. Plenty of the dragonlings had sought out other prey, and it seemed at least for that moment there would be no concern over any of them attacking. He knew, however, the eye of the storm was at hand, and what lay beyond the stillness was far worse than what they'd already endured.

"Off with your shirt, Logan," the mystic commanded matter-of-factly. There wasn't time for pleasantries, at least not with a dragon and its dragonlings about.

Logan did as he was told and removed both his trenchcoat and the shirt he wore beneath. Chest hairs glistened with sweat, and his chest heaved as he coughed and wheezed. More blood was spat upon the ground, and the psion secretly hoped it wouldn't take long.

The mystic chided him. "Slow your breathing, and find something to bite on," Lloyd said as he set about his work. Something familiar about the would-be shadow surgeon sang at the back of Logan's mind, though. There was an air about the man, but he couldn't quite seem to put his finger on what exactly that was. Opting to leave well enough alone he grabbed the leg of a downed lizard and chomped down on it quite hard.

The scaly texture of the leg was hard to bite through, but it was exactly the distraction the mystic needed to work without too much movement from Logan. Lloyd worked as fast as he could, wiping sweat from his brow two or three times. Meanwhile, the silent shadow man kept watch at the edge of the small band for anything requiring dispatch -- such as the three draklings taking notice of the men.

"Mmsdirdth ofthuth eoouth," Logan mumbled into the dragon leg before he spat it out onto the ground. He gritted his teeth as the pain surged throughout his chest and abdomen and started to stand, but Lloyd placed a hand on his chest with such force it pushed the psion back to the ground.

"Un-mother will assist if necessary," the mystic said as he gave the wounded warrior a long hard scowl before he continued, "now, stay still!"

[black shadow]

Black Shadow kept watch, arrow in hand. The mini-dragons took the other survivors to the pit, and once they were in, they did not seem to return. Black Shadow hoped that they would be left unnoticed. His eyes danced back and forth, gazing between each Lizard. His fear of being attacked again was soon brought to life. Another lizard turned it's gaze back at the trio.

His arrow was in the air, the sweet sound of his bladesinger bow rang through the air. The scales protected this dragon, but with each arrow, the attacks began to do damage. Black Shadow fired again, the arrow sliding beneath one of the scales, the dragon in mid air. It screeched in pain, attacking again. Black Shadow ducked, and the sound if the dragon falling was music to his ears. He managed to remain unharmed this time, the "unmother", as Lloyd had called it, had taken care of the beast.

He turned back to the other two, Lloyd almost finishing his medical procedures. Logan appeared to be healed for the most part. Now they faced the task of the dragon.

[Alyssa Snow]

“Hey, did you hear me?!” Alyssa called out with a nudge to his shoulder.

The man didn’t move.

“Come on…” She inched closer to the driver and rolled him to his back. With a quick glance, the only notable marks he had were the same as hers, a few minor abrasions and embedded wheat grains.

Alyssa bit her lip as the sounds of horror escaped from the remaining survivors past the wall of golden wheat between them. The dragon’s roar quelled the screams for a brief moment only to crescendo into a percussive explosion. She looked to her unconscious companion with concern. Her brutal Aleran training in that horrible facility dictated she leave him for dead, but her desperation to be normal begged her to see him through alive. Whether it would be a mistake or not only time could tell, but Alyssa caved to her inhuman humanity.

Using her artificial gifts, the gunner conjured a small flame in the palm of her hand. She held her breath, gritted her teeth, and pressed the ember against the man’s shoulder.

First, there was no reaction but after a second or two, his soft groans erupted into a howling yelp. Alyssa quickly quelled him with a hand over his mouth.

“Shh,” she hissed, “are you okay? Anything broken?” She kept her tone soft, slow, and very stern. When the wild look in his eyes faded, Alyssa pulled her hand free from his lips.

“Aside from feeling like I was kicked by a mule, I think I’m in one piece,” he replied, rubbing his shoulder.

“Good, listen. The caravan is gone, and that thing is attacking anything that moves. For now, we’re safe in the wheat. I don’t think it’s seen us yet.”

As Alyssa spoke, she moved to the edge of the fallen stalks to part the ones which still stood. Between them, she caught a glimpse of the carnage. Smaller looking varieties of the larger beast mauled, chomped, and dragged away whatever meat they could, dead or alive. The larger one laid down a thick cloud of crystalizing fog upon the remaining wagons of her caravan. Meanwhile, survivors struggled to avoid an early demise by clinging to wreckage as makeshift shelter and fending off the smaller of the threats. Out of this chaos, Alyssa recognized a familiar face.

“Then why don’t we get the hell out of here through the fields?!” Alyssa heard harshly whispered behind her. She let the stalks sway back together and faced the driver dead on.

“You’d leave them to die?” She inquired with words as cold as Berevar’s peaks.

“Yes. By the Thayne, yes,” he returned without a second’s delay. “I have a family – children. I’m not risking my life. Let’s just crawl our way out of here!”

“Coward,” Alyssa scolded as she pulled something wrapped in cloth from around her shoulders. “You owe me your life, not to mention the pay you promised me that you know we won’t get.”

She carefully placed the object down and began to unwrap it. Each pass of linen revealed more of the sleek white and strange edges of Alyssa’s rifle.

“Now, you’re going to earn that back one way or another,” she continued, casting aside the cloth and pulling out armatures to stabilize the gun. “Either you help me save them, or I put a bolt in your leg and let karma decide if you live or die.”

He looked at her slack-jawed. It was though he didn’t expect such a young, lithe girl to be so demanding. While his size easily doubled hers, he could tell Alyssa wasn’t making a threat, but a guarantee. Her stern expression in light of the explosions, screaming, and chaos anchored him in fear or resolve.

“Now, what’s your name?” she asked.

“Ed.”

Hidden by frazzled strands of blonde, Alyssa fiddled with a strange metallic cuff on her ear. After a moment, a soft chime rang in her head.

“Ed, can you hear me?” Alyssa conveyed to him through lips shut and thought alone. The man staggered and looked around.

“What in the name of Hadia?!”

“Calm down, use your thought, not your mouth.”

”Hello?”

”Good, now listen up. I’m going to show you how to use this rifle…

A few seconds passed and Ed nestled himself behind the stock of the gun. He tilted his head behind the scope and pushed the muzzle between the wheat enough to get a visual on the lumbering giant. Then, another chime rang in Alyssa’s mind.

”Logan, this is Alyssa. Can you hear me? What’s your status?”

Shots Stocked:
Rifle [Loaded] - (1) Ice, (1) Fire, (1) Earth
Pistols [Loaded] - (12) Ice
Pistols [Reserved] - (6) Fire (6) Earth

[Leon Adalbert]

Pressed hard against the thorny bracken, and wishing he had not left behind his leather coat, Leon watched as the jewel encrusted stallion crashed into the advancing ranks of drakelings. The magicite ignited almost on impact, blasting apart several of the reptilian monsters, and the survivors scrambled away with missing limbs or shorn off snouts and tails. The pistolier's ears still rang from the gunshot, but he could barely make out the desperate keening of the creatures, and one of their number turned to him and its jaws opened wide in a screeching challenge. Shining saliva dripping from its mouth, and limbs churning away at the earth beneath it, the drakeling charged him.

Thorns and razor-sharp leaves tore at his back through the linen shirt, and with a cry of pain Leon rose and stuffed his pistol in a pocket. Drawing his sword and dagger, the man slouched into a defensive stance, arms wide and blades pointed ahead. Boots dug into soft earth, he crouched slightly, ready to meet the onrushing foe. The beast rose up on its short hind legs, raking at its easy prey with long talons. Leon dove into the strike, driving his shoulder hard into its chest and wrapping his off-hand around to drive the knife into its carapaced flank. The beast tumbled, overbalancing with the new weight, and Leon kicked off against the ground once more.

The pair rolled, and as he landed atop the writhing creature, Leon drew back his rapier. He took quick, careful aim, and drove the point of his blade into its throat, breaking the leathery hide. It screamed beneath him, and its arms and legs thrashed about, catching on the man's pants and bloodied back. With a shout of agony and defiance, Leon grit his teeth and bore down on the weapon, pushing it through and up into the base of the beast's skull. Unsheathing his dagger from its side, the bloodied swordsman thrust the shortblade into the now-immobilized creature's eye, and twisted.

The drakeling twitched once, twice, then nothing.

[Hysteria]

Don’t dawdle too much! I’ve been slowly increasing the danger, and it’ll keep going.

The drakelings continued their grisly work, but the cries of those cut down seemed to spurn urgency in their actions. Above them the dragon continued to coat the new arrivals in layers of crystal. Even those seeking shelter amid the wreckage found the mass of crystal flow over them and turned into rolling mounds. Mercenaries and cart drives and crew all found themselves flooded by the gas and trapped.

From the hole continued to pour more drakelings, but amid their number came slightly larger versions. These creatures seemed more armoured, and more muscular. If the drakelings were the drones, then these were the warriors. They moved with great speed, leaping forward in bounds towards Logan, Lloyd and Shadow. The creature’s mouths opened, revealing rows of teeth, but more pressing was a surge of magic. Large crystal spikes easily a foot long blasted from their mouths towards the three men. Two drones and a warrior cornered the strange Un-mother and moved to rip her to shreds.

Two warriors followed the scream of the drone eventually silenced by Leon.

[Lloyd]

Beads of sweat fell from the young Orlouge’s brow as he tried to quickly finish his operation. With the help of his shadow magic he easily repaired Logan’s punctured lung with only a few stitches. He had not the time to fully repair the man to perfect health but this would at least help Logan up and onto his feet leaving him able to fight once more.

“Hold still Logan,” he hissed as he started to suture close the Logan’s skin. “I only need a few more seconds.” His shadowy tendrils started to retract back into his wrist as he finished his impromptu surgery. His Un-mother stood stoic behind him, guarding him with all of her being. Between the bowman and his thrall, Lloyd had excellent cover for what he needed to do.

Just before he could pull his needle through the worrier’s skin for the final time the Un-mother growled. While Lloyd was occupied with his stitching the Un-mother saw more and more enemies emerging from their tunnel. She howled as the larger dragonlings started to leap and target their little group. Normally in these cases Lloyd would control his puppet like a well-oiled machine but he was focused on finish Logan. Instead he allowed the Un-mother to fight on its own until he completed his operation.

With her long sharp claws flexed the Un-mother ran forth to meet these beast mid charge. If nothing else she would give them a chance to counter strike. She made large stride cross field until the dragonlings surrounded her. She hissed and scratched at the air around her like a rabid animal, yet this did not scare the larger dragon. It charged her like it had no fear and she it. Both leap in the air with their claws our front.

The un-mother felt the beast sharp talon pierce her shoulder as the monster overpowered her in mid-air. She managed to sink her claws deep in its chest but otherwise was pinned under its massive form. The other dragonlings circled her as the drone let out a raptor like roar in victory. The Un-mother struggled to break free from under the beast weight but to no avail. Instead she twisted her claws planted in its chest ripping and tearing at its innards.

“Alright, were done.” Lloyd said as he lent Logan his shoulder to stand. “It’s not perfect but it’ll have to do for now.” He finished as Logan rose to his feet. “Just don’t push yourself too hard and this should hold up. It would be a shame if I just had to work all over again.” He turned to see his Un-mother pinned under the weight of the drone a few yards away. “You wouldn’t want to look like her would ya?” he said pointing to his masterpiece. “You have my word as Lloyd Ransom Orlouge, son of Ciato, we will make it through this.”

They had to…

[Logan]

The psion stiffened at the name Ciato. The Orlouge name, in particular, was one quite familiar to him. After all, Anita, daughter of Silence Sei, was Logan's Goddaughter. Neither of which he had seen in a very, very long time. The name Ciato when played through his mind held a putrid taste akin to rotten fish and spoiled vegetables. To say the psion wasn't fond of Ciato would be, in the broadest sense, an understatement.

Logan elected to ignore any emotions or feelings welling up inside him, and instead opted to quickly examine over the impromptu surgery's results. A deep breath followed by a minor hack as the shadow threads stretched taught about his chest, and a fresh feeling of certainty washed over him. The work was as much a success as one could be in the heightened midst of battle. Maybe, just maybe, he could let Lloyd's heritage slip by without drawing attention to the jackass who was his father.

The psion nodded to Lloyd. "Yeah, I don't feel in the mood to be a meal for any of these creatures," he said through a smirk. "Oh, and nice work, kid."

Drakelings and dragonlings; if someone told Logan prior to his adventure with Max Dirks in the Red Forest he'd be face to face with a dragon, shortly after killing a Kargoosh and defeating Pode's illusions, he would have certainly laughed in their face. Then again, the whole ordeal was pretty much par for the course for him. Any adventure the psion joined always seemed to enter into some overly twisted witch's fantasy. The question that ran through his mind was just who was the witch?

The psion's thoughts bounced as the dragonlings and drakelings pounced onto the Un-Mother. There wasn't much time to save it, and to be quite honest, he had not intentions of saving it.

"Lloyd, you and your whatever keep those little bastards busy. I have a --," the final words held on the tip of his tongue as the voice of Alyssa Snow rippled through his mind.

She'd shown off the new earpiece not long ago, but he never really bought into the concept. A way to communicate across any distance and perhaps even farther felt dirty and wrong, like cheating at a game of King's Cups. Upon hearing her voice, Logan's objections felt rather trivial.

"Alyssa, I'm fine. I have a couple of friends here keeping these little bastards at bay, but I need to get onto that big one somehow. Can you help me," Logan telepathically replied.

As he focused to explain, the first wave of the crystal spikes soared at the group. It seemed one of the larger dragonlings took a liking to the psion, which of course made total sense. At least it did to him.

Logan's swords slid from their sheaths in a matter of breaths, and easily parried away the spikes. A long time before, he might have returned the favor by launching the spikes in their entirety back at the individual drakes, but his time of telekinetics had long since passed. So he relied on the next best thing.

As the dragonling hissed at the psion, Logan sheathed his swords and balled his fists. The dirt beneath the feet of each dragonling shuddered as small geysers of water sprang forth. His fists balled tighter and the geysers erupted harder and harder, more and more water raining about the area. One geyser, then another and yet another merged into a jetstream of water. The jetstream was powerful enough to knock back each of the dragonlings in succession.

"A little help here," he shouted at the silent shadow man and the surgeon.