❪ event ❫ hour of ruin

[natha]

HOUR OF RUIN     Sometime after midnight, after preparations have been put aside in favor of drinks and rest, a thunderous beating of wings shatters the air — the High Dragon Ysverai, once again risen. The sound echoes high off Namarak Mountain, but travels easily to both Wyver and Olympia: scream after scream rends the still night, as though a creature were dying rather than being born again. Having only had days to plan their defense against the creature, Olympia and Wyver snatch up their arms. The Royal Guard and the Knightryders can be seen on their steeds hurrying through the cities, because Ysverai doesn't remain isolated at the mountain's peak for long. There are pictures of Ysverai in abundance throughout both cities, but the creature that circles in the sky looks nothing like the majestic creature spoken of in history books. Even from far below, wounds and lacerations can be seen marring what should be smooth scales, and blood falls with every beat of the dragon's wings. The damage becomes more clear when moonlight illuminates Ysverai, revealing the rotting dragon for all to see. The sight of flesh peeling away and thick blood where it oozes from his cracked, greyish hide is as frightening as the power he possesses. REASON'S TRANSCENDENCE     Mad from the anguish of his forced revival, Ysverai will show none of his renowned wisdom or compassion, mindless and seeking to inflict his pain onto whatever emerges in his path. His very presence creates chaos: animals (Olympia | Wyver) domesticated and wild, flee from the merest hint of his approach, panicked and stampeding in wild droves. The reason is obvious: organic matter exposed too long to his presence begins to rot and decay. A field he lands in rots and lies fallow. Buildings crack and crumble, their supports pitted and corroded as though they've been left in disrepair for years. Even the ground that Ysverai walks upon is tainted; a corrosive sludge bubbles up in his massive, clawed footsteps, the ground beneath him putrefied and toxic, oozing corruption. This sludge can be tar-like, poisonous and sucking people in like quicksand; panic, and you'll only sink faster. Prolonged exposure to Ysverai takes a mental toll on anyone in his proximity as well. Effects similar to those from being near his heart — selfish desires and lowered inhibitions — will begin to fester in those around him. Every time Ysverai roars, pain will run through all those that hear him — a pain not just physical, but of true, anguished heartbreak. Those who hear Ysverai will feel (to a degree of your choosing) a sharing of his pain, the agony of flesh rotting from their bodies, blood oozing from under their skin, and a terrible, incandescent fury — and beneath that, a gut-wrenching sadness. This effect is further enhanced by any exposure to Ysverai's blood, and being drenched in greater quantities will cause one to become more in sync with the dragon. Finally, Ysverai is aggressive, attacking anyone and anything that approaches. He starts by breathing out a smog, acidic and putrefying — characters caught directly by this attack will find that medicine and healing magic of any kind hurts them for hours after exposure. The dragon will ignite the smog to breathe fire, if sparingly. IN WYVER     Ysverai's shadow falls over the near reaches of Wyver first. Upon hearing Ysverai's cry, the dragons in Wyver become completely frenzied, turning against their partners among the Knightryders without the slightest resistance. Those familiar with dragons might deduce that they're in pain, though they don't show any sign of injury. The dragons knock their riders off their backs in midair and dive at citizens, jaws wide. Any attempts to soothe them will be long fought, achieved with great difficulty, and will see them retreat into a cowering state. It's not just the airborne Knightryders taking to the defense of the city however, and people on the ground are mobilizing as well. On rooftops across the city are cannons set to fire harpoons. And if the spearheads alone aren't enough to injure the beast, they're coated with a paralyzing poison as well. Unfortunately, the soldiers stationed on the rooftops are prime targets to the frenzied dragons populating Wyver's skies, leaving the cannons open for ordinary citizens to use should they choose. Left alone too long, and cannons may fall under the control of the few remaining radicals that had opted not to flee the cities to join up with their leader Raysc, choosing instead to wait for an opportune moment to unleash their anger on the people of Wyver. These radicals will need to be dealt with before they can turn the cannons upon Wyver's defenders. IN OLYMPIA     In Olympia, the gryphon partners of the Royal Guard react with immediate hostility to anyone showing signs of Ysverai's influence. Their keen senses allow them to pick up the smell of Ysverai's blood and they attack anyone with so much as a drop of tainted blood on them. Those who bear lingering effects of Ysverai's mental attack and who remain in sync with the dragon after hearing Ysverai's cry are also targeted and must face the gryphons' wrath without mercy or restraint. The gryphons must be disabled, for Olympia will not look upon any injury to their prized steeds lightly. However, the gryphons also show some resistance to Ysverai's cry, which is a great boon in battle against the dragon — gryphons that have lost their riders will be available for use, able to carry two passengers at a time. The people of Olympia aren't planning to restrict their offense to pure brute force, and the mages of the city can be seen across Olympia wielding enchanted chains, using telekinesis in the hopes of restraining Ysverai and assisting in the airborne troops. But like the decaying buildings and wildlife, Ysverai is warping the magic around him, the chains faltering as they approach him, whipping back toward the city instead to cage whoever happens to be closest. It's not just the enchanted chains either, but other magic might behave erratically in his presence, as if the very essence of the spells have been corrupted. VIRTUOUS VERSE     Both cities realize they need to seek survival rather than victory against Ysverai, switching gears to carry out diversion efforts and evacuation plans. It falls to refugees to continue the offensive while the Royal Guard and the Knightryders devote their attention to ensuring the safety of the citizens as they flee. With official forces stretched thin, civilians and refugees alike will also need to step up to help herd citizens toward safety among a maze of collapsing buildings. Others will need to see to gathering resources for the evacuation, and while gathering non perishables is easy enough, it's considerably harder to wrangle livestock into cooperating amidst such chaos. Those fighting may be asked to act as bait for Ysverai. Chatter through official troops speaks of a switch in strategy: the objective now is capture the dragon's attention and draw him away from the populous cities and towards the South Outpost. Whether or not it's possible to defeat the dragon remains uncertain, but there's no question that it will be easier to battle him without worrying about civilians. THE RAGE     Luckily, the dragon is indiscriminate in his rage, and easily lured so long as a suitably infuriating target is before him. It doesn't take long to draw him to the South Outpost, but the trail of destruction he leaves in his wake is vast. Once there, the combined forces are greeted not just by Ysverai, but also by the appearance of Ysverai's master. How bravely you've all come to meet your doom! Great heroes, one and all, ha! I welcome you, bring your best. Show me the power that's protected Olympia and Wyver, all that you have to offer me, whatever pitiful excuse for valor you seek to cling to when the fear has you cowering in your beds. All will be for naught in the face of Ysverai's might! Let history witness the day the glory of war is reignited — the day that Wyver remembers its fangs once more! Come, Ysverai, last and greatest of the High Dragons! Come, and restore Wyver to its rightful place! Come, fulfill the promise as our protector that you could not in life! Raysc lifts a gleaming device as he issues his command. Red lights blink and blood, the same oozing liquid that drips from Ysverai's many wounds, runs in clear tubes through the device. Ysverai rears back as Raysc makes adjustments to a control panel — and then lunges forward, mouth agape. With a single swallow, Raysc meets his end. Raysc's attempt to control the dragon has only enraged him further, spurring Ysverai on to new heights of fury. It's become more vital than ever to face the dragon and take him down here and now. A few effective strategies are learned from research efforts and observed while defending Olympia and Wyver: goading the dragon into breathing fire will hurt him, burning him from the inside out, and attacks to his joints, eyes, wings, and exposed bone are effective. Ice is a natural repellent to dragons and can be used defensively or to weaken the dragon's hide. Healing spells will also react unnaturally to Ysverai's flesh, hastening his decay. However, while concentrated efforts will lock him down, Ysverai cannot be permanently killed in this state — his flesh constantly rots and spawns anew. Attacking him here is to protect civilians, keeping him busy to avoid mass destruction elsewhere. Therefore, the battle is one of attrition, a matter of a race against time. You must destroy his flesh faster than it is able to regenerate to have any hope of victory. Finally, when Ysverai is weakening, little more than bones with a few last vestiges of rotten meat hanging from a skeleton, the pathetic remnants of the last High Dragon takes to the skies. His wings are barely intact enough to carry him, yet desperation lifts him, higher and higher, until he lets out one great, earth-shaking roar. A roar that carries across the battlefield, sending all who hear it to their knees. A roar that shatters the swords in soldiers' hands, that rends apart the very air itself — Ysverai's last act, a great curse upon El Nysa, to bring down the sky. AND THE WORLD STOOD STILL     The terror of Ysverai's destruction hangs overhead — a tear in the sky, darkness pouring through, tendrils reaching down towards El Nysa to swallow up the planet in the dragon's final act of revenge. And yet nothing moves. A halo of brilliant light surrounds the rift in the sky, holding the grasping, hungry tendrils in check. And on the planet, not a creature moves. Not a blade of grass stirs. You're not able to even draw a breath. No matter where you are, not even the heart in your chest is beating. Everything has stopped — time has come to a standstill. In a wash of light, an aurora of transport, you find yourself delivered to Thesa Station. Darma stands before you, her expression solemn, perhaps even grim, though that may just be a trick of the station's harsh lighting. She explains what has happened in short order: planetside, time has been completely frozen. We have seen the birth and end of worlds. The rise and fall of civilizations infinite times over. We have seen all threads of possibilities that could have lead to this very moment... Or should have. Perhaps you might doubt our sincerity when we say this comes as a surprise to us, as well... Special technology has been used to blind us. To this day, we only know of one region capable of creating and utilizing such technology... you will find this technology in a city known as Nadril. We understand that you have created a life down in Wyver and Olympia, but now we must ask that you put that life on pause. We ask you to travel to Nadril and find the original Refugee, and with him, answers. As you will discover, he does not wish to speak to us. It is no matter. By now it is too late to keep the Nysan public unaware of our existence. We commend the efforts of those who wish to protect their comrades on the battlefield below, but a creature like poor Ysverai, twisted and warped, given unnatural life with terrible magic and technology, does not simply go down with manpower. Please, leave Ysverai to us. Time on the planet will remain stopped while we determine how to deal with the dragon. For now, rest and recover your strength. We have returned, and soon, there will be new refugees awakening. Perhaps you might like to prepare yourselves to greet them? I'm sorry that I can't answer more questions, but for now, all our attention must turn to finding a way to stop what Ysverai has wrought. A bank of monitors behind Darma displays the battlefield below: Ysverai's frozen, looming figure and the breach in the sky, and the Natha's halo, holding the destruction back. Though time passes normally on Thesa Station, El Nysa remains frozen, and all Refugees are unable to return to the planet until Ysverai's menace is dealt with. Luckily, with the Natha's return, full functionality has also returned to the station. The lights and environmentals are back to full power, access to all areas has been restored, the cafeteria is serving its normal offerings, and there's no evidence of any glitching or malfunctions. Doubtless, the period of rest is much needed after the hard-fought battle. For now, with time on El Nysa at a standstill, there's little else to be done but enjoy the reprieve aboard Thesa Station. FINAL OOC NOTE     Characters that reach an AC length action thread in this event will receive 2 rep for all factions, including Natha. Note that while these are split up for ease of processing, players may submit for all three. OLYMPIA | WYVER | NATHA Players can expect this event to run three days ICly before everyone is teleported to Thesa Station! From thereon, all characters will be grounded at the Station until the Test Drive Meme later this month. QUICK NAV premise ● faq ● lore ● map ● npcs ● bestiary taken ● atp/emp ● application ● rep/acp ● quest bulletin calendar ● hiatus/drops ● modbox [ FULL NAVIGATION ] elnysa nysalogs nysaisles nysaooc elnyan

Comments

[inreturn]

[It really is a shame Chuuya is covered in gross blood. But! Kaden is here to help. He produces a small handkerchief from one of his pouches and he immediately leans in to start dabbing at anything that still looks wet.]

You can't? You know this is the second time this has happened to us, right?

[He teases, his ears giving a little flick as his eyes fall to Chuuya's hands. Hmm. Are they dirty?]

It's almost déjà vu for me. I'd like to not live through something like this a third time, you know?

[inreturn]

Hm. You could say that I am, but I'm not the one you should be worried about.

[His brushing comes to a stop, his tail giving a cautious wag as he thinks over what he's going to say. This whole situation? It's pretty serious. Even he knows that, even if he doesn't look it on the outside.]

I'm not going anywhere near that thing. I figure I can make better use of myself helping out everyone as I go. I'm not really that fond of dragons, either.

[nineteenfortyfive]

It matters. Tell me.

[She doesn't care that he's crying. Not in the way he does.]

[unprays]

[ it is less prayer and more something familiar to sing, a last, desperate attempt to comfort herself, to give her something to do and not send her into shock; Claire's approach jolts her out of that, but it also gives her something else to focus on. ]

Claire — [ she sounds choked, like she hadn't even tried to think about whether anyone she loves is hurt, or worse, and she wastes no time responding to the hug, her arms winding around Claire just as tight. ]

No, no, I'm alright, [ mostly, anyway, and some small cuts or bruises are hardly important ] are you? Please tell me you're not hurt.

[unprays]

[ she moves on instinct, reacting to the shout before she even realizes who it is, or that it's directed at her — she backs up, before looking around the street, at the people running back and forth, at how there is very little to hide behind.

in a split-second decision, she runs not away from the house whose roof the radical has taken command of, but instead towards it. she crouches down against the outer wall and yells, over the noise, ]

This is the best cover there is! Can you stop him? [ the best cover, because the man would have to fire on the house he's currently standing on to hit her. ]

[unprays]

The others? You mean everyone who is running away from this?

[ she knows her voice is louder than it needs to be, but she cannot deal with this, not this, not him trying to send her away again. ]

I'm not a child, Jon! I'm staying away from the fight, but I can help! I'm not going to leave and hide and let everyone I love risk their lives fighting Ysverai!

[colorature]

Um...not really.

_{[It's not a definitive no, but it's not an outright yes either. Her gaze shifts from his face to the plate of smeared mashed potatoes and the mess left on the table. Some of the people she'd slaughtered had ended up looking like that...just less starchy and a bit more red.]}

I still kill though. I won't lie to you about that...but I've been killing less?

_{[Baby steps, right? It's only been four months, after all. Old habits die hard, especially when they're backed by instinctive urges.]}

If you think I'm a monster I won't blame you for it.

_{[She's just grateful he wasn't there when she was losing it or else he might've ended up one of her victims, accidentally.]}

omg no this is more than fine don't worry about it!!

[unprays]

[ the breath that seems to have been lodged somewhere in her chest leaves her in one heaving sigh, and she nods at him, tries to place his voice and realizes it's familiar because she's only recently heard him speak on the network. ]

Yes, I'm alright. And it seems I should rather thank you.

[ you know, for taking care of the terrorist. ]

IV.

[beatupgrass]

[Rocket's vocabulary consists of "less than kind motivational lines" on the daily, so he's nonplussed, and just sort of digs his heels in due to being contrary and a little peeved. There's a third reason, however, and that reason is made clear by the way his eyes are on those bottles.]

You gonna drink all of those by yourself, lady?

III.

[beatupgrass]

[She might be shouting from the ground in vain, but Rocket's had the benefit of flight for the most part during this fight, and those cannons have been pretty inviting... Until the bad guys started ruining it. He was about to go for this guy anyway in a primal fury dedicated to taking every single one of Rasyc's men while he has an excuse and the dragon continues to shrug off his laser fire... And then he heard Sansa, and his anger increased tenfold. Excuse you, sir.

He's a furry blip in the sky, dodging every kind of weapon between dragon and man, before he lands right behind the man and his cannon as he starts to open fire again.]

Hey, d-hole. The lady said cut it out.

[He whirls in surprise and it's just enough to make sure he sees the laser rifle before he gets shot with it. He staggers back and then falls off the roof, where he can be trampled on for all Rocket cares.

He peers over the edge to check on Sansa.] I's cool. I tried to negotiate with him, but we had to agree to disagree.

[tailorable]

[ Well, less is better on this sliding scale of terrors. It doesn't sit well with him (how could it?), but it means she isn't a lost cause. With a glance around the area, Eggsy ensures no one else is close enough to hear them. ]

I don't think you're a monster. [ The reply comes automatically. He follows it up with something more sincere. ] And I've known a few monsters, so I can tell.

[ She definitely veers toward the darker side of grey, but he knows how she grew up — how hard it must have been to find any way forward, let alone a peaceful one, and how suspicious people still have their claws in her. Doesn't make this an easy conversation, of course. Countless questions come to mind, part concern for her and part due diligence.

Eggsy cards a hand through his hair, mussing his typically neat part. ]

Diva. [ He leans in closer to avoid being overheard. ] Why do you kill people normally?

[ """normally""" ]

II.

[beatupgrass]

[Rocket's been dealing with the dragon the same way he and the rest of the Guardians dealt with the Abilisk- use the aero-rigs, strike fast, and then dodge out of the way of the particle waves or, in this case, dragon breath.

If one wanted to venture a guess, between the yelling and the laughing and the zipping around, Rocket is having the time of his life out here, though with the creature regenerating, it's a short-lived kind of delight.]

Cheating frickin' bastard- what?

[He looks up to see Prompto waving him down and spirals up in an arc to avoid the falling sword and lands on the edge of the roof.]

Dude, watch where you're tossin' things. That's how people end up needing cybernetic limbs. [He says, knowing full well that Prompto is sort of engaged in combat right now.]

[colorature]

<sub>[She's not sure if he's being sincere when he says that he doesn't think she's a monster, but the look in his eyes suggests he's being genuine. She'll believe him for now, he hasn't really given her a reason not to.

Even though he leans in to speak quietly she can hear him loud and clear. It's kind of a silly question, she thinks, but she can't fault him for being curious. She just assumes the answer is obvious.]</sub>

Because I'm hungry.

iii.

[beatupgrass]

So you made it.

[Rocket looks bedraggled, his fur singled and matted with blood and a general, and there's an uncharacteristic unease in his posture. He keeps glancing over his shoulder or out the window, as if expecting another shoe to drop at any minute.]

I'm tryin' real hard to not be pissed we needed to be saved that bad. Two cities and hundreds of us and we couldn't take down one frickin' dragon. We should've had this. We've faced worse than a rotting corpse.

waves at

[unprays]

[ his voice cuts through it all: the terror, the pain, the breathless anguish. the weight of his hand on her shoulder is an ice pick, cracking the frozen surface of her skin until she can open her eyes, turn her head, will her voice not to shake. ]

My lord, [ she says, because she may be brave, but she is not suicidal, ] It is not safe for you here.

[ spoken like any good, dutiful wife would, concerned of her husband's health and wellbeing. and underneath, there's a current of something darker — her voice may be even, but her heart beats too fast, and a slight tremor still shakes her hands. ]

i.

[beatupgrass]

Mantis!

[Rocket's flight or fight instincts have been going on overdrive since the news started spreading. He spent a few days in the hole Amaterasu had dug for him before she went back into stasis to try and calm down, but it hadn't really helped- it was at a waypoint for the animals of the forest and he could hear the thunder of their feet above him.

So he came back, and here in Wyver he's stayed, edgy and preoccupied with his weapons, and when the day finally comes he's prepared as best he can be, but only in the sense that he has firepower to deal with the threat. Emotionally... He's definitely not ready to watch his friends get curb-stomped.

He runs over to Mantis, putting his small body between her and the people running towards the beast.]

Let 'em be idiots if they're gonna be. They're too wound up to listen to sense right now. And we gotta get outta here.

[tailorable]

[ Because she's hungry is better than for fun... Probably. Maybe. And she's been doing it less! Less is better!

Let him have this one. ]

Right. [ HONESTLY ] And you just pick random people? [ maybe they could find bad people! No, wait, that's definitely still serial killing. ] Do you eat, like, the whole person? Ain't it just blood you need or something?

[ How do vampires work, anyway? where's wikihow when he needs it tbh ]

[baldesion]

[The dragon is down but not out; Krile turns to thank her rescuer and surprise overtakes her, followed by a real smile.]

I ought to have known. [When she brushes herself off it is largely for show, but some of the muck dislodges from the hem of her cloak.] Thank you, and I hope that favor needs no repayment.

[That they should come out the other side of this with no more near misses would truly be the gods' gift.

The dragon thrashes harder against the mud, nearly righting itself, and Krile raises her staff again.]

It is not itself. [She recognizes the emblem of the Knightryders on something it's wearing.] If that thing's voice can cause such pain for us, imagine what it does to them.

[judicia]

( He can forgive Peter for not moving too gracefully. They've all been through a lot, Anders included. He may not show any signs of it, but the skin beneath his clothes is still pink and sore and healing thanks to a potion he took earlier.

He smiles when Peter takes the seat next to him, though, making his face brighten with genuine happiness. )

Hey. ( It's a simple greeting, but the relief in his voice is palpable enough to get the rest of his message across. He's pleased to see Peter. )

Good to see you made it out in one piece.

iv,

[punshots]

[ Nothing was supposed to come next.

That's what death is. It's the end, the last great unknown, a doorway beyond which none can see. Its the end of a journey, and while he never expected it to come as quickly for him as it did, Prompto died with peace in his heart, Alisaie's voice lingering in his fading consciousness, her arms encircling him. If he had any regrets, it was only that they didn't have more time, and that he had left her to bear this weight on her own. But what else could he do for her, at the end? If there was any sort of afterlife here, he didn't know what sort of form it might take, but it matters little to his mind then. Few things did, while he died in her arms.

Nothing was supposed to come next.

And yet here he is. Awake on Thesa Station once more, released from a stasis pod once again, though things are markedly different this time from the last two times this has happened. He is...well, alive, which is unfathomable in and of itself, but he isn't whole and well like he has been post-stasis before. While obvious repair has been done to his body to fit him for life once more, he still bears scrapes and bruises, scars, and he feels like he's been hit by a truck. Even so, he barely seems to register that fact at first. He barely seems to register anything while he is coming back to his senses, grappling with his very livelihood that for all intents and purposes, should be impossible. He does the simple things first, cataloging his injuries, and his inventory. Several things are missing, including his wedding ring and the dragon pendant, as well as his camera. He feels their absence keenly once he discovers them, and really, that's the first distinct feeling he's had since waking up here. Where listlessness pervaded before, now the ache of wrongness settles in, of things that must be righted. He's never been good at standing still for long and he must carry on, no matter how impossible that should be, for a dead man.

He doesn't linger long in the stasis chambers, and after his temporary haunting he moves swiftly on his feet without even thinking. He knows where he needs to go. He knows where he's needed the most right now, even if...

Gods, what will she think when she sees him? What will she say? Will she even believe this is real? That he could possibly be here? He's not sure he believes it himself. But he will not leave her in the dark a moment longer.

...Will she want to see him, or will it be too much?

Doubts crowd his mind even as he reaches the door to her chambers. It's been so long since he's been here, but he hasn't forgotten. It feels like a lifetime ago he had last stepped into this room, shy but thrilled at the beginning of their relationship, holding her close and asking to kiss her. He'd tickled her, and she'd clocked him on the chin, and they'd laughed and touched and teased like they hadn't a care in the world.

So much has changed since then.

Swallowing his resolve so it settles upon his thundering heart, Prompto pushes the door open, and steps into the room, and it's a warzone.

It isn't hard to assume what must've happened, though Prompto is reluctant to imagine it, all the same. Alisaie had a...strong way of reacting to grief. He remembered her smoldering anger with him after their fight at the gala, how upset she had been after she'd found him being dragged to be burned alive, not to mention what she'd told him of her reaction to her grandfather's death. She doesn't react well to loss, and the state of the room tells Prompto everything he needs to well about how she was handling his death. His heart tightens painfully in his chest, tears forming in his eyes before they even land on her on the bed, curled up and a way with his camera clutched close to her chest. A cold feeling sinks into his gut but he does not hesitate a moment longer. ]

...A-Alisaie?

[ If she is asleep, should he wake her? He takes a few careful steps forward, his whole body trembling as he nears the side of the bed.

What has he done to her? ]

[colorature]

You really want to know?

_{[Well he asked, so he must want to know, right? Even if he doesn't he's going to find out now.]}

Lately I'll go to the Red Light district and eat men who look at me the wrong way.

_{[Or are rude. Granted she kind of goads them into it, but it's still their fault for being pigs.]}

It's just blood...but I like the other parts too. I feel more full that way. _{[I mean, they're already dead so...why not indulge, right?]} Bones are nice to chew on as well and are good for my teeth. _{[What is she, a dog?]} Sometimes I'll share them with Keaton.

[unprays]

[ one moment, she is a frozen statue on her knees on the ground, shivering as she falls deeper and deeper into the reel of memories that doesn't want to stop, that drags up every single loss she's ever experienced; the next, strong arms grab a hold of her and she's wrenched upwards, in the air in a way that doesn't even remotely resemble the only other time she's been flying, on Diana's broom.

her eyes fly open, watching horrified as the smog covers the spot where they just were, and then she turns to look at the person who snatched her away to safety. ]

What — how are you... [ doing this, she thinks, but Gods, she can't get the words out. ]

i

[judicia]

( Anders' magic hasn't had much of an effect on the beast. Every spell he's cast becomes corrupted, or blows right up in his face. There's a few burns there, on his hands, and some shallow cuts on his face, but he's not worried about any of that right now. )

Claire! ( He's headed back to clinic himself, hoping that he might do a little more good there than he might against the dragon. )

What do you need? Are going to the Sanctuary?

II

[dontgiveabuckland]

[Given all things, by day three Cam is doing not so bad. Not great, he's definitely bleeding from a few different places, but there's no powering through magic exhaustion, and unless he wants to be entirely useless in the fight against Yversai, he has to periodically take some time to recover. Tuck away into some corner where he can recharge.

It's at the end of one of these breaks, hidden in one of the buildings, when he hears a terrible crash, the ground shuddering under him as one nearby crashes to the ground. Clamoring up to his feet, Cam takes to the streets, coughing from the dust as he approaches the impact site.]

Hey?! Is anyone there? Make some noise if there's anyone out there!

[Nevertheless, Cam begins digging, searching for anyone that might be unconscious. It doesn't take long before he spots a figure in the rubble. He almost misses him, grey from the dust and partially covered by debris, but sure enough it's someone. Someone Cam recognizes—]

Fausche! [Shit. Cam stumbles over the rubble, falling to his knees to dig Valjean out,] Hey, stay with me, alright?

[dontgiveabuckland]

[Well, he might have some luck with a certain Cleric who is equally stupid and ready to take a giant undead dragon down.

But first, up the tree. From their position, Cam gets a face full of Rohan's butt as they hold on tight. This is the worst. But sure enough, they reach some sturdy branches. Cam gasps for air one he is ass-free.]

Thank Avandra—