[Azriel] Ruin

Characters: Azriel, Althaia
The enemy breaks into the besieged city of Alexandria.
(note: I noticed the rp style in this particular scene seemed strange, at least on my part...)

Alexandria Kingdom - Square

This is the central hub of the Kingdom, with various market stalls, inns, and other shops set up in a circle around a central fountain. Often, children can be seen playing outside on the streets and often in the roads as well and there is a general happy feeling in this part of town. To the north, a double set of gates leads towards the Castle, and to the west a narrow alley leads further into town. A broad, cobble paved road continues to the south.

Contents:
Althaia
Obvious exits:
<East> [leads to 'Alexandria Kingdom - Business District']
<North> [leads to 'Alexandria Kingdom - Docks']
<South> [leads to 'Alexandria Kingdom - Front Gates']

Clouds, dove-gray and thick, blanket the sky, blotting out the sun and encompassing the area with shadow. Despite the square being the city's central hub, no citizens are present and the wagons of merchants on their daily businesses no longer populate the area. Off to the distant south, north and east, the sounds of battle ring through the air, filling it with the clash of steel and cries of pain.

As the skirmishes wage on, a solitary figure stands before the fountain, hooded and cloaked with their shadowed gaze cast towards the waters. A subtle light glows from the clear liquid, the illumination emanating from a magic circle drawn by ether upon the white marble. As the mana flows the waters churn, shimmering with the energy as if directed by the figure's quiet whispers. Unbeknownst to them are the rogue Heartless that have broken off from the different battles, slinking away to prey on the distracted person.


Teeth and claws rend armour and flesh, shatter bone, spraying blood where the air is not filled with smokelike wisps of shadow. The soldiers' blades cleave their way through the relentless hordes, but more often than not, wielded in desperation, they serve only to stem the tide rather than press the advantage, keeping the fiends from cutting off their retreat and taking the heart of the city. And yet the enemy does not relent, sensing, perhaps, the dire straits of the city's defenders.

Apart from them, and yet fighting as furiously as the next man, a youth clad in drab and battle-worn grey hesitates, his lips letting slip a faint cry. Unheeded the fighting rages around him, spilling into side streets where no doubt a few others of the guard had been stationed. "They're getting past you!" he shouts, very nearly cut down where he stands. The Heartless' swinging arm comes away without a hand, the fist that gripped its weapon tumbling to the ground and dissipating. "After them, before they reach the houses!"


Eyes glowing the figure attempts to gaze into the waters. Upon the turbulent, magic-soaked waters the makings of an image can be seen and them disappears as the figure turns, raising its arms up to defend itself from another incoming attacker. Energy erupts from their body, blowing back their hood to reveal a woman's face. The magic clutches onto the attacking Heartless and freezes it in place. Composing herself, Althaia glances back at the waters and scowls, noticing the enchantment gone. "Worthless" she mutters as she draws her rod. Pivoting on a heel she spins, adding momentum and her weight into the blow and sends the stationary Heartless reeling, as the beast tumbles it disperses piece by piece into a black smoke, until nothing remains.


Down upon the defenders a dim shape wreathed in darkness swoops, spreading wings wider than any bird or creature oft seen in Alexandria's skies. And swift in answer the youth - sprinting now, crossing the square without care for the bodies of the fallen that lay in his path - raises a hand as it closes in on them, the bladed staff in his grip flashing almost too swiftly for the eye to follow. Darkness spurts from the winged gargoyle's mouth, his eyes and nose, the blades sear through its pinions; like a meteor it plunges to earth, shattering stalls and upturning abandoned carts in passing as it skids over the cobblestones to ruin.

The smoky shadows lift, leaving the wingless bulk of the gargoyle last. Azriel remains where he'd crouched, wary still, tense and pale. "What are you doing here?" he demands of Althaia, risking a glance over his shoulder. "Not that you can't take care of yourself, but..."


"I was...nothing. What are /you/ doing here?" Althaia asks, arching a slender eyebrow as she glances about the Square, eyeing the destruction and fights in the distance. "Off getting yourself killed or trying to be a hero? No matter, are we going to idle all day? I suggest we help the others fight or retreat back to the castle, not much else that we can do" she adds, shrugging nonchalantly.


"I thought I'd agreed...no, we'd agreed, to remain in Alexandria for the time being. And fight on its behalf, naturally," Azriel answers in dry humour, even if his taut, drawn profile betrayed much of the strain he was feeling. "And men who seek glory on the battlefield are as good as dead, if they don't look to their hides first." He shoves a bootheel at the inert form of the gargoyle, rolling the senseless beast over on its back. "Even a fool would learn that much." With a flick of his wrist he twists the staff with the fluid grace and ease of long experience, driving the slightly curving blade home, into the Heartless' exposed throat.


"I suppose, men are as good as dead" Althaia repeats dryly, glancing over at Azriel as she curves her lips into a smile, "but women? Ah, they'll manage" she adds with a laugh, wincing idly at the destruction of the gargoyle. "Having fun?" she asks teasingly before setting herself into a stride, moving to the nearest skirmish with the guards and a small band of heartless, "Don't delay too long" she calls out over her shoulder as she runs into battle, gesturing with her hands and uttering words to the air, conjuring forth arcane power to surrounding her.


Uttering a barely audible, disgruntled oath, Azriel slings his trisectional staff over his shoulders in what would seem a careless gesture, the blades hanging point-down over his arms. "Just doing what needs to be done. I needn't enjoy myself, either; I wish I could, it would most certainly help!" As if to punctuate his speech three balls of flame burst from between the gaps of a knot of Heartless, blistering heat rolling over them in waves. "As it is," he murmurs to himself, unslinging the staff from his shoulders as he whirls it about his head in a deadly, blurring arc of steel, "It's just work."

And he sets himself to it, if without any enthusiasm, at least with enough effort that the gibbering Heartless part before the hiss of edged metal and linked chain like water around a stone. "We won't be swamped here so long as the line holds."


Tendrils of magic cling to Althaia as she evokes for the archaic power, imbuing her physical body with its mystical properties. "Work? I'd understand, I was part of the military" she replies, biting her lower lip as she takes to battle. Hastened by magic, her body twists and bends, manipulating the laws of physics as to further enhance her attacks with momentum and gravity, sending Heartless reeling with broad strikes at their chests. Pausing, she raises a hand out, palm facing an incoming Heartless, a web of ethereal energy springs forth from it, stopping the shadowed entity in its tracks.


"This reminds me," Azriel spits to one side, wiping blood from where he'd bitten his lip as a Heartless' fist had met his mouth, "why I don't like serving any particular cause. Being a hermit has its advantages," here he smiles, devoid of mirth, eyes tight with controlled effort as he brings down a beast with murmured, hastily flung spells. There seems little need for words then, as a pair of Heartless break from the melee to turn their assault upon him, one charging him from either side.

Rather than leaping into the air, as another might have done in his place, the raven-haired youth waits grimly, wiry muscles tensed. A spell is uttered at the right moment, one slows in its onrush, and the bladed staff lashes out in a spiteful strike at the legs of the swifter Heartless, slashing them out from under him. The shadowy creature's momentum flings it headlong - into its comrade, giving Azriel the chance to skewer them both, one after the other. A trickle of sweat runs down the young mage's brow. "Too many coming at us, too fast. Where're the lancers?"


"Lancers?" Althaia says, glancing around as she slants her eyes and casts her gaze into the distance, "I don't k--" her speech is cut off abruptly as a Heartless materializes from behind her, delivering a vicious attack to her back. Again it strikes, sending her sprawling to the floor. Pushing herself up, Althaia slowly begins to rise. Taking advantage the Heartless calls for more assistance a pair of the shadowy figures pounce upon the time mage, assaulting her as they release a flurry of attacks. Screams erupt from Althaia, as she struggles to free herself from the onslaught, rolling around as if to escape while blindly releasing surges of magic that meet nothing but thin air.


Even as one of the Heartless' clawed fists descends upon Althaia's fallen form, intending to land a telling blow, a thin line of silver blooms through the back of its hand, shadow hissing in the thrown knife's wake. The beast screams, stumbling back, only to take an Alexandrian soldier's pike through its opened maw, the lance punching through the back of its throat. Furious, the soldier wielding it very nearly neglects to account for the others of the enemy that swarm them now, stabbing and scratching, the two of them almost lost to sight as more shadows close about them in a gathering swarm.

A growl escapes Azriel. "Althaia!" A curse, and upon the pack of Heartless, on their unrelenting backs, he hurls a barrage of spells, fruitless as it seemed given their numbers.


Screaming, Althaia scrambles to escape, taking the soldier's distraction, to her advantage as she moves to all fours and attempts to crawl away, leaving a trail of blood in her wake. Body shuddering with pain, the white leather that covers it is torn at various parts, revealing strips of exposed flesh. With arms extended she finds support on the fountain's brim, and struggles to rise. Relentlessly a Heartless springs into action, pouncing onto her back as it tears away at the flesh.

One of the lancers emerges from the mass of the shadows and flings his lance. The steel projectile whistles through the air, impaling the shadowed beast. Weaponless, the lancer grimaces, as if regretting his decision and raises his gauntleted hands, attempting to defend himself with them alone. Breathing shakily, Althaia catches herself on the brim, attempting to recover however she can and then silence overcomes, her body no longer moving and breath no longer audible.


Silent as the girl was, fallen on the fountain's edge, so silently does Azriel endeavour to lay about him with his weapon, the blades ripping through shadow-flesh, sundering cloth, drawing sparks from armour. But it seems to avail him little, the press growing too great for their combined efforts to break through. "If we can't go through them then..." the red mage thrusts a pike through the armored and helmed figure of a Heartless, letting go and leaping in the same breath, "we go over!"

Vaulting upon the pike lodged in the Heartless' chest, he leaps over the head of another, coming down hard on a struggling knot of foes and launching himself above the throng. There he holds the air a moment at the arc of his leap, a ripple of magic barely disturbing the stillness around him. "There she is..."


Ambient light shimmers, bending as it's magnified and wrapped around Althaia. The would be aura glows lightly as the ether about her swirls, thickening as it manifests itself. Tendrils of magic, woven by unseen hands, reach down to pick up the girl, lifting her into a floating position as the spark of life is ignited within her. With a gasp, Althaia opens her eyes gazing skyward as the light of magic fills them, clouding over their natural appearance.

The arcane power surrounding her within a makeshift cocoon slides off and pools below her feet, spreading out along the grooves of the cobbled stones and filling nooks, valleys and notches. As the liquid energy completes its cover, the design is visible, a detailed representation of the night sky surrounded by zodiac symbols with the stars within. Pinpoints of light, each star twinkles independently and then as if randomly chosen, one of the tiny stars rises upward, moving to hover beneath the now cupped hands of the time mage. There it glimmers brightly, channeling the energy from around itself before propelling high into the sky. The clouds part as the sparkle of energy slips through, dissolving them to reveal a small gateway - revealing the real night sky in all of its star-studded glory.

Clouds churn, spiraling clockwise as they spin faster and faster around, forming a perfect circle, a reflection of its earthly counterpart. Through the nexus a shooting star, a meteorite, emerges and races towards its conjurer.


Whether it was some prickle of instinct across his senses, or the feel of magic swelling across the divide between them - too great to be contained within the circle of madly threshing, battle-frenzied Heartless - Azriel wavers even before the light engulfs the girl below, his descent having slowed to a drifting hover in his uncertainty.

The young man's eyes narrow, the fierceness in them snuffed out by perplexity, then realisation coming swift and hard upon its heels. "Run!" he shouts, flinging up a hand, a barrier flickering belatedly to life about some of the soldiers trapped in the press of bodies. The meteor plunges inexorably through the skies toward them; Azriel marks its fiery descent with a hawk's eye, summoning the strength to propel himself back from the narrow space above the point of impact, the passing of the comet sending him hurtling through the air.

<OOC> Azriel says, "*flaps his arms*"
<OOC> Azriel says, "sob magical girl"

The flaming star blazes through the air, spiraling down to Althaia and then before impacting, bends its course, crashing into the ground before her, bowling over Heartless and Soldier alike as it burns into the ground. The force of its descent causes it to finally come to a halt some dozen feet ahead, leaving a trail of fire in its path. As it reaches a halt it pauses, the chunk of ice and rock glowing before finally exploding. More destruction ensues, bathing the Square in magical light. Moments pass and as the light fades and the smoke clears, the bodies of Heartless and some soldiers are left, scorched and destroyed beyond minor recognition. Coming out of her trance, Althaia gasps, inhaling as she pants and falls to her knees, her body shaking as she struggles to catch her breath. The magical circle around her fades and leaves nothing behind.


As if the pulse of the battle itself had stilled, leaving the beleaguered city holding its breath, dead silence reigns over the square, the remnants of the enemy upon its edges shifting in wary, animal unease, stunned Alexandrian soldiers amongst them, the fighting forgotten. Smoke, the hue of death, floats over the battlefield, stirred only by a faint breath of wind in aftermath.

Alighting without sound, Azriel stares at the charred remains of a nearby lancer, a hand still curled about the weapon he'd wielded, disregarding the empty suits of armour left behind by the vanquished enemy. The corpses that littered the square earn a brief, pained look before he tears his gaze away. "This is almost too much," he manages to utter bleakly, pulling together what remained of his composure, with an effort. He moves to Althaia's side almost without pausing to think, pressing a hand on her shoulder. "Are you...all right?"


Gasping, Althaia jerks her head up, eyes widening in shock as Azriel's touch surprises her, catching her off guard. Gathering her bearings, she composes herself, breath coming in short, light puffs as she merely stares at the red mage, wordless. Moments pass and she finally shakes her head, breaking free from the state of silence that held her, "I....guess....that...what was that? I didn't know" she says in a near-whisper, casting a futile look around as she shakes her head again and again, "I didn't know...." Her voice wavers and finally comes to quiet itself, held back by Althaia's bit lip as she suppresses the emotion that fills her eyes: the dull gleam of sadness, regret, frustration.


Numb, Azriel can only shake his head, his fingers tightening almost imperceptibly on the girl's shoulder. Sympathy or comfort, if that gesture was intended to give it, little else of it is held in the youth's mien and gaze. Little else, but shock and a refusal to accept the carnage that lay around them. "Can you walk?" he asks then, softly, as if remembering her pride. "Questions can be asked later. For now...let's get away from here. This square - it reeks of death."

The faint but unmistakable sounds of battle, the cries and clash of metal, renew themselves, ringing through the streets branching off from the square. Azriel raises his head, gazing alertly down one of the empty thoroughfares, his hand still resting on Althaia's shoulder. "And before they break through again. You can't go on fighting in this state, not without healing."


Shakily, Althaia nods and rises to her feet, an arm instinctively extending to grab onto Azriel for support. "All right, let's go....I don't want to be blamed...." she says weakly and begins to walk, limping while putting some of her weight on Azriel.