❪ 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

wooper

[adelphoi]

[ if there is a stronger word than exhausted, alisaie does not know it, but she certainly feels it. no doubt adrenaline and the will to stay alive are all that keep them on their feet, but she has no shortage of either, thankfully. while she's stretched and weary and aching all over, while that dragon screams in the sky and violence erupts all around them, her blood sings with energy pulled from reserves she did not know she had.

still, they need for food and drink if they hope to keep going, and when prompto tugs her aside she's quick to call chobi to her side so she can dig in his saddlebags for a waterskin, which she offers immediately to prompto. there's surely a few snacks in here too, if she keeps digging.. and actually, she has a handful still of both potions and ethers from home. thank the gods she had saved them. ]

I am managing.

[ it's the truth, and the best she can offer, really - she's sore from head to toe, and her hip smarts something fierce, but she'd thrown a few vercures its way, and for now that will be enough. ah! a bag of trail mix is near the bottom of the saddlebag, she pulls it out and turns toward him, sweeping her gaze over him, appraising. ]

And you?

[punshots]

[ It's telling that Prompto is too exhausted to even insist that Alisaie drink first, and he wordlessly accepts the waterskin, throwing it back to pull from it greedily, and he leaves Alisaie's question hanging for a long moment until he hands the waterskin back to her.

He drags his wrist across his forehead, taking measured breaths in an attempt to slow his rapidly beating heart. ]

I've had worse. [ He takes the bag of trail mix from her, scooping a handful into his mouth. ] Not much worse, but...worse.

[ He huffs a sound that is something like a dry laugh, though his eyes remain pinched with worry. She shouldn't be on her feet at all, but what else can they do? He could try to carry her out of him on his back, but they both know how well that would go. And she'd insisted on carrying on, so...

They keep moving forward.

He glances around, quickly sweeping the area to take in their surroundings. ]

Up there. [ He nods towards one of the cannons on the rooftop of the nearest building. ] Think we can get a good angle on the dragon from there? I say we let him have it for a little bit.

[ Might do both of them good to just...wail on the thing for awhile. ]

[adelphoi]

[ she chomps down a few handfuls of trail mix herself while prompto drinks, but she's ready for that waterskin when he hands it back, and she drinks from it in great, greedy gulps. she'll need to fill it again, soon.

his answer is not ideal, but what's there to be done about it? this is.. an absolute mess, worse than she could ever have imagined, and looking upon that great beast is far more difficult than she would care to admit. it is far too easy to remember bahamut, his rage and pain, the prayers of the trapped and tormented dragons that kept him sustained - gods, sometimes it is difficult not to agree with the great wyrm's words, spoken through her grandsire's voice. it was mankind who first slaughtered the meracydian dragons and gave rise to bahamut, who then trapped and abused his agonized avatar, and ysverai is so very similar it is chilling. how can people do such things? how can there be so many horrible men in the world?

but then she looks at prompto's kind face and warm eyes, and remembers that there is good in people. whether or not she is right to believe in the goodness of mankind, she believes in it nonetheless. another mouthful of trail mix and deep pull of water and she nods, stuffing both back into chobi's saddlebag before climbing into the saddle again. ]

Aye.

[ their attacks may be little more than annoyances, but still they must do what they can. ]

[punshots]

[ Their little break is hardly enough to sustain either of them for very long, but it is what it is, and they must forge ahead, regardless. Stretching out his back and inhaling and exhaling sharply, Prompto Mrs. F. over, hopping into her saddle as well so she can ferry him up to the rooftop.

Before he does so, however, he nudges the bird to Chobi's side so he can reach over and cup Alisaie's cheek in one of his hands, thumbing gently over her skin, offering her this small measure of tenderness to ease her troubled heart, for however much it may help. ]

Hey. We're going to get through this, okay?

[adelphoi]

[ his touch distracts her from her thoughts, and earns a soft smile, however weary. it's even more difficult to accept that answer with the world falling apart all around them but.. at least he is here, beside her, his touch warm and gentle and soft, easing her troubled heart. one step at a time.

she does not answer beyond a weary nod, but they're hardly going far. up chobi leaps, carrying her high, and she is grateful for his stamina and strength on a day like this, when it is sorely needed. they alight on the rooftop, and she pulls a handful of greens from the saddlebag for chobi to gorge himself on while they work. she's not familiar with artillery. ]

How does it work?

[ just right click it right ]

[punshots]

[ He wishes he could offer her more, that he could make everything better with a kiss and a ressuring word. But he can't, and they shouldn't linger long. Staying in one place for too long is dangerous enough, and they are not idle.

Up they go and Prompto slips off his chocobo once they land on the roof. This is one area in which he really excels, and while firing the harpoon cannons might not be as effective as other methods of attack, it's the best way he's been able to contribute. A little intensity flashes in his eyes as he approaches the machine, setting his hands on the sight. ]

It helps that you just kinda...aim at everything. You just --

[ But before he finishes that thought, the screech of a dragon echoes nearby. It's not Ysverai this time, but some of the smaller, frenzied dragons that have been flying about, and Prompto turns his attention on them immediately as they dive near. ]

Looks like we've got company.

[adelphoi]

[ she's able to pick up what he's saying easily enough thanks to the pact, though she's never operated anything so large before - still, the concept is simple enough. she doesn't get the chance to find whether or not she is any good at this harpoon thing though, when the cries of frenzied dragons fill the air.

it gives her no pleasure to fight these creatures, once loyal friends now driven mad. she has made every effort to only hobble them when they can, but when it is kill or be killed, she does what she must. hair-triggered and ready for battle at any moment, alisaie whirls before he has even finished his sentence, drawing her rapier and focus and leveling her blade toward the nearest approaching dragon. ]

Keep behind me.

[ a shame she left her grimoire behind, topaz carbuncle would be quite useful right about now, but surely she can keep them busy enough on her own. ]

[punshots]

[ They haven't seen much battle together before Ysverai's attack, but they have learned quickly how to fight at one another's side, how to best augment each other's strengths and weaknesses. Alisaie takes the front lines while Prompto plays his range, and that's how they've made it through this alive so far. It works, and so he nods in response to her command, calling a rifle he'd picked up into his hands in a flash of light. ]

I'll take out their wings.

[ If they can't fly, they're much less formidable, but they are coming in quick, and Prompto only has time to fire a few shots through the first dragon's wings before they are too close for him to get in a good shot. ]

[adelphoi]

[ whether it is due to the volkkran pact, or simply their own easy chemistry, they fight well together, taking cues from one another all but wordlessly, working in tandem and falling into step in this lethal dance.

with prompto to back her up, alisaie focuses on her swordwork, diving in close to the nearest dragons to cut at their legs and take them down, occasionally delivering a hard blow to the temple when she can, to knock them cold, but that is not so easy a thing to do with those slavering, snapping jaws. she flings spells where she can, when there is time enough to cast between charges. a fourth dragon falls, and alisaie whirls just in time to see the great green shadow of a wyvern rearing behind prompto. ]

Behind you!

[punshots]

[ She calls out and Prompto twists as quickly as he can, dismissing his gun in favor of his rapier. The dragon is close enough that the blade will be more efficient, but between swapping weapons and his fatigue, he's just not quick enough.

The dragon catches his left shoulder in its claws. Prompto cries out, but the adrenaline drumming through him (and perhaps a little bit of Ysverai's influence) pushes him on in his attack. He swipes up with his blade, slashing the wyvern across it's soft underbelly, causing it to shriek in pain—

And throw him from the roof. ]

[adelphoi]

[ it takes all of her effort not to dive toward him immediately, but she has a wyvern of her own to deal with, and she trusts him well enough to handle himself while she dispatches it. it's pity that has her cutting deep into her foe's meaty thighs, sending it to the ground writhing in pain, and though it might suffer from its wounds for a time, with its mobility denied it will do no harm, and may yet live to recover. alisaie has worked too long with the knightryders to give up so easily on these loyal beasts. in a merciful blow, she strikes it hard on the side of the head with the butt of her rapier, knocking it out cold -

- and turns just in time to see prompto's dragon fall with a pained shriek, and then prompto himself, flung from the rooftop. alisaie cries out, horrified, leaping immediately onto chobi's saddle and diving down after him, searching the rubble below. ]

Prompto!

[ gods, where has he fallen? ]

[punshots]

[ Out of the frying pan, and into the fire, as they say. Prompto's little spill to the ground hasn't left him in too terrible of shape, though by the time Alisaie reaches him down below, he is holding his middle with one arm while he continues to fight the injured wyvern with another. His breathing is hard and labored, laced with pain, both thanks to the gash in his shoulder and the broken ribs he's now smarting. He landed poorly on his ankle, as well, and now every step has him wincing, and there's a fresh trickle of blood from his nose.

Prompto barely seems to notice his pain, though, focused instead on knocking out his foe. The wyvern is fierce and stubborn, however, and it slashes at Prompto in agony as he retreats back, swapping out his rapier for one of his guns again. ]

I'm here!

[ He calls out, just as eager to have Alisaie back at his side as she is to find him herself. They can protect each other better that way, and there's a good chance he won't be able to take down this thing on his own. The two of them should be able to—

Another dragon's cry sounds from above, another swooping down, and that's not all.

Footfalls approach, and though they try to be silent and stealthy, Prompto can pick them up, and no doubt Alisaie will be able to, too. It seems as if some of Rasyc's friends have shown up to commandeer that cannon, and they are coming swiftly. ]

Are you serious? C'mon!

[ HE'S GETTING TOO OLD FOR THIS SHIT ]

[adelphoi]

[ when it rains it pours, or so they say.

prompto hardly looks healthy, but he is still on his feet and calling out to her, which is more than fit enough to satisfy her; neither of them are at their best, wounded and exhausted as they are, but there can be no time for rest. while chobi dives in for a landing, alisaie is channeling vercure, which washes over prompto the moment the chocobo touches down, and as she leaps from chobi's back verthunder arcs from her hands to catch the wyvern in the side of the head, knocking it silly. she does not look to see if it falls, for soon enough another shadow is passing over her head, and footfalls patter all around them.

gdit.

alisaie groans her displeasure, but what else is there to do but continue the fight? she turns her back to prompto so she can cover him, and leaves him to take the dragon from the skies with his gunfire while she scans the ground for the new aggressors - it's only moments before the rebels are surging over the rubble toward them.

thankfully, they do not fight alone. with a fearsome war cry chobi plunges ahead, and for as sweet and soft as chocobos seem, they fight like demons - his great beak snaps and he delivers powerful kicks with his strong legs and hard talons, easily breaking the line of charging men, who did not expect the great bird to attack. big and strong as he is, chobi makes for a terrifying opponent. come on, mrs. f, get your featherbutt down here. ]

[punshots]

[ Prompto stumbles back from the falling wyvern after Alisaie's spell knocks it out, the vercure soothing his injuries, and Prompto takes in a deep breath greedily as soon as the pain in his ribs ebbs to a dull ache. ]

Now that's what I call being thunderstruck!

[ Yes, even at a time like this, he cannot resist a good battle quip. Chobi charges the group of radicals surging towards them, and with a squawk, Mrs. F. flutters down from the roof to join him. For a moment, Prompto laughs triumphantly, though they are not out of the woods yet. There's still another dragon circling overhead, and for all their fortitude, the chocobos are not enough to completely stem the tide of advancing enemies. A few begin to slip through the assault, making for the pair of them while Prompto focuses his efforts on the dragon in the sky.

It's a big one, and it dives down to swipe at him, gnashing its wild teeth, but Prompto manages to dive out of the way, firing a bolt into the beast's flank. ]

Hold back the others! I've got this one!

[adelphoi]

[ the chocobos make for a formidable front line, and the men don't seem to know what to make of it, or how to fight them. mrs f. is too quick for them to land a blow, and chobi is slower, but strong and heavy with bones of iron - none of their hits seem to damage him at all, save for ruffling a few feathers, and both of the birds attack vigorously and relentlessly. mayhaps they will make it through this intact.

so with the chocobos holding the line and prompto whittling down the dragon, it's quite easy for alisaie to pick off what men break through. she is not so kind to them as she was to the dragons - though raysc may be the head of this serpent, these men nonetheless support his cause, and already so many have been injured, so many have died for the reckless pride of this assault, and alisaie's fury is unrelenting. there is a reckoning indeed. she strikes to kill, running them through their hearts and throats, flinging verfire when she can, aimed directly for their faces, and not a single rebel is able to break through, leaving prompto free to bring the dragon down.

still, she casts a call over her shoulder, while wrenching her rapier free of an insurgent's ribcage. ]

All right, Prompto?

[punshots]

[ Preoccupied as he is with the dragon, Prompto only catches glimpses here or there as to what is going on in the rest of the battle, but it's difficult to miss the chocobos tearing their enemies to shreds, and he can't help a swell of pride at the sight. They just might make it through this skirmish alive, just as they have with every fight before this one, and every fight that will surely come after. They're exhausted and weary and worn but they are still on their feet. They still fight on, as do their chocobos, and in that moment Ysverai's wrath doesn't seem quite as insurmountable as it had only moments ago.

They can make it through this. He's sure of it. ]

Never better, babe! Let's finish 'em off!

[ Switching back to his rapier, he focuses his aether as she had, parroting her verthunder spell to knock the dragon out while he has it on the ropes. His spell isn't anywhere near as quick or as powerful as hers is, but it's effective, and the dragon collapses into a heap on the ground.

...

But Prompto doesn't have the chance to see his spell through. Even as the spell lands true, Prompto's cry splits the air, a tearing scream that cuts free from his lungs.

It seems one of the radicals did break through—or, rather, that he was cleverer than the rest, and used their preoccupation with the frontal assault and the dragons to attack from behind. Or, well—not so much behind as from above, as he fires the harpoon from the cannon atop the roof to spear Prompto through the middle, and it is no middling wound. This weapon was created to attack a dragon with, after all.

Prompto is no dragon. He is only a man, fleetingly mortal, and the pain in his body is so great that it simply cannot handle it. It's too much. He can't breathe, he can't think, all there is is this metal lanced through his body, and perhaps it is a mercy, that it is as devastating of a wound as it is. It means he's less aware of the poison that runs into him from the weapon's presence in his body, that it is swiftly shutting him down. ]

A-Ali—

[ With a gasping sob, he staggers, and falls. ]

[adelphoi]

[ it's going well. one by one the rebels fall, and the dragon, too, and soon enough the men begin to retreat in trickles. they may be superior in numbers, but they've not seen nearly as much combat as those they are fighting, it seems, and though she is weary down to her bones alisaie feels her heart begin to lift.

the sound of the bolt cutting through the air is soft, and sharp, and the dull, wet sound as it finds its mark makes her stomach turn. alisaie whips around in surprise, but nothing can prepare her for what she finds. prompto, still with shock, run through by a harpoon large enough to fell a wild aurochs, blood already welling around the wound.

immediately, the floor drops out from under her, the edges of her vision dark.

no.

if she cries out she does not hear it beyond the ringing in her ears, and with a wild shriek alisaie unleashes her accrued mana in a furious verflare that kills prompto's assailant before his body even hits the ground, consuming the cannon along with it. even the fighting men still for a moment, at first delighted, and then frightened, hesitant, unsure of whether to press the attack while she's distracted or flee while she pays them no mind.

because alisaie can see no one and nothing beyond prompto's body folding to the ground. she does not make the choice to move, but her legs carry her to him anyway, her rapier clattering to the ground at his side as she drops to her knees and gathers him up. oh, no. no, no - alisaie is no skilled healer, but even her brother would balk at a wound such as this, and had she the strength and aether reserves even to close it, she would have to remove the bolt first and it's - it's enormous - she can't - there isn't - ]

No, no - p-please --

[ an old familiar fear closes around her heart, rising like bile in the back of her throat, and while a voice in the back of her mind knows there is nothing to be done she cannot accept that, not so suddenly, so violently. only moments ago he was laughing, fearless, triumphant, and now he is crumpled, bloody, struggling even to catch a single breath. this cannot be happening. a fierce wave of panic sweeps over her like ice water trickling down the back of her neck, and she calls upon a helpless, hopeless vercure. ]

Prompto - y-you -- it is fine, we will - I will -

[ what? what is there to be done? only enemies surround them, and the time it might take simply to call alphinaud or krile might be long enough to lose him. all she can do is will him to survive, will this wound away, will time to wind back only a few terrible moments. ]

[punshots]

[ Darkness comes for him swiftly, the numbing allure of it tantalizing when faced with the prospect of continuing to fight this pain — pain like he has never known before, pain that tears his very soul and over takes him, so by the time Alisaie gathers him in her arms he is whimpering, fingers pulling uselessly around the bolt through his body, accomplishing nothing but slicking his own hands with his blood. But he can hear the desperation in her voice, he can feel it in the way she pulls him near, and he must do something. He can't...he can't do this to her, no, no, he has to live, he won't leave her alone, not now, not after everything, he told her they'd make it through this—

So he fights it. He fights like hell, though he struggles to breathe, and though her vercure seems to glance off a wound of this magnitude. How can he doing anything but fight it? Even if this injury, here, now, brings with it a sort of finality, an inevitability he cannot hope to escape. Already his movements are sluggish and trembling, and they both recognize the truth of it. He's dying, and there's nothing either of them can do about it.

The realization lances through him, carrying a terrified fear with it through his blood that just doesn't move like it's supposed to anymore. He isn't ready for this. He doesn't want to die. For all he has been a man living a borrowed life, one that was never meant to be his, he clings to it ferociously, selfishly, for the memories of his friends that he carries with him, for his beautiful world that is so close to being forgotten, for his wife, his wonderful, loyal Alisaie who even now is still at his side, steadfastly tending to him, even when there is nothing to be done.

Hot tears spill from his eyes as he reaches feebly for one of her hands. ]

I-I'm s-sor—sorry, I'm—

[ He chokes back the apology he knows she won't want to hear, instead bringing her hand to rest against his cheek. If these are to be his final moments, he doesn't want to fill them with regrets. Those will...no doubt come after. How this will impact Alisaie is nearly unthinkable, but he can't— he won't leave her with remorse in his heart. Not after everything they've been through, after everything they have to be so very happy about. For how short their time together has been...he would trade it for nothing, at the end of things. ]

I-it's okay, s-sweeth—it's okay. Y-you've done—s-so well. I-I love you so much. [ There's nothing to be done, and it's okay. Maybe this...is just his time to go. Gods, but he still has so much life left unlived—both of them do—and he weeps for the friends he leaves behind, the things left unsaid and undone, the family they never got to start. But, right. No regrets here. Not now.

He nuzzles to her palm, the tangy smell of his own blood filling his nose. He's so very tired...how long can he hang on? ]

Just...w-will you...sing to me?

[ He has no doubt that the sound of her voice will...ease him, as he passes. ]

[adelphoi]

No, no, no - don't you dare --

[ she doesn't want to say she loves him, for that is as good as saying goodbye, and she cannot - she cannot bear that thought. it's too soon, they are too young, there is still so much left to do, to see, to achieve -

it can't end like this. she isn't ready. it's too fast, too sudden, she's dazed by the speed of it, like some monstrous hand has driven into her chest and torn her heart free of her ribs. alisaie has never dealt well with loss, years it had taken her to come to terms with louisoix's passing and he had not died in her arms, bloody and gasping; already this moment, this vision is branded into her memory, and it has barely been a handful of seconds.

a terrible, heartbroken cry twists in the back of her throat, tears blurring her already dizzied vision, giving rise to a hiccupping sob. alisaie presses her face into his hair, shaking her head vigorously, but how can she deny him this simple request? clinging hard with blood-slicked hands, alisaie begins to sing - or she tries to, at least. at first all she can manage is a tight, dry croak. her heart pounds like a fist against her ribs, the sound of her own blood rushing in her ears drowning out all else, the thick, coppery scent of blood permeating all.

why does this keep happening? why is it so hard for her to hold onto the ones she loves?

she tries again, rocking him in her arms while she holds tight, falling into the same song she had given him that night when they slept beneath the stars, when he woke from fitful dreams and she eased him back to sleep. he'd been so warm, and smelled so good, the sky above them peaceful, not rent with the anguished cries of an age old primal. he was smiling then, not slick with a torrent of blood.

please wake her from this awful nightmare. ]

[punshots]

[ He knows he is asking a lot in this, that it won't be easy for her to comply with his request, even if it is the last thing he ever asks of her. Gods, she isn't ready, and neither is he. But it comes for him, all the same, heedless of his wishes and wants. They have precious few moments left, but he's said what he needed to. She holds him tight and sings to him, and Prompto's eyes flutter shut, mouth curling into a weak smile against her collar as he tries, as best he can, to hum along.

He remembers this song, from a time so far removed from now, when it was only nightmares that led him to seek her comfort. Even if they both know how this ends, he can't help but feel peace as he hears it again, as he attempts, weakly, to join his voice with hers. Time stands still to give them this moment, to allow them to hold onto each other just a moment longer. What comes after he doesn't know, but if the sound of her voice and the smell of her skin buried beneath blood and smoke are the last things he ever knows, if her arms around him are the last thing he feels, he will go smiling.

And slowly but surely, the darkness grows, hazing over his mind, pulling him away from her warm embrace into a place cold, and distant. This was never a moment he was meant to hold onto for long, and he's clung to life for as long as he is able. He continues to hum, each note weaker than the last, until at last they drop off entirely. With a final shudder, he grows still, his body going slack in her arms. She will feel it in her pendant, too, the moment his very soul dims, his aether extinguished, but a sentiment remains, one he had been unable to speak in his final moments. She has to know...how much she's done for him. How much he appreciates her. How much he has no regrets, even now, in loving her, in pursuing a life together with her, however brief it may have been.

Thank you for everything. ]

[adelphoi]

[ for all that death is a part of life, grief is a strange, clumsy thing.

there are no words that could ever describe the feeling, the aching loss and fear and horror, the empty, hollow feeling in her heart, the powerful realization that this is happening, that it is real, that she can only cling to that surreal hope for so long. he shudders in her arms and goes still, and silent, and this moment seems to stretch into eternity.

he's gone.

not only can she feel it in the pendant, but so too can she feel it in her heart, in that warm space within her where his aether laid next to hers. she'd grown so used to it that it was no longer noticeable, but now that it's guttered out like a candle flame, the void left behind is all she can feel.

still, she doesn't want to believe it. ]

Prompto..?

[ her voice is small, and plaintive.

please, answer.

but when she pulls back he is silent, slack in her arms, and it would seem to her that he was sleeping but for the unnatural stillness in his body, how he doesn't breathe. she grasps at his face with both hands, shaking him gently, and then with a little more force, a broken cry cracking in her chest, the sound of her heart breaking apart, made manifest.

why?

despair wells up like a great black shadow that consumes her, and alisaie sucks in a breath, her skin tingling and her head spinning, the pain so fierce it is unreal, ceaseless, driving her mad. she clings to him hard, but for only a moment before she cries out in a shriek so wildly injured even the chocobos give pause, and what men remain seem to think better of seizing this opportunity, and begin backing away.

but there's no escape for them. alisaie stands, tense all over, the tip of her rapier dragging against the concrete as she lifts it, and attacks with the ferocity and fury of an angry god. there is no hesitation as she cuts them down, even those who attempt to flee are speared from behind, and all the while her mana and aether build, and build, and build until it's all welled up within her, the pressure so great it nigh tears her apart.

a great rune spreads wide beneath her feet, encircling the area for yalms around her, catching all around her in its wake, and alisaie cries out her pain and rage and grief as the land nigh explodes all around her in a surge of white hot aether and fire, consuming all in its path, felling each and every rebel as they attempt to flee in a blinding flash of ferocious fury.

yet even when it ends, when the sky darkens again and the great swell of aether gives way to exhaustion that brings her to her knees, still she is alone. ]