Lore of Leyuna RPG (FRPG)

[C S]

"He's just asking for the hurt now," affirmed that vindictive voice in Morrelie's head. The thousand-year mage was not one to argue with herself. She was still sane, after all. Thus, with all the composure of a sane, collected and calculated mind, Morrelie dropped to one knee and slammed a palm on the ground. For a split-second, Kristov felt that overpowering pressure on his being as the mage's aura filled the area. His funneling wall of debris met a wall of Morrelie's will, and it was brought to a stop before it was dismantled. The debris buckled, and dirt rained onto Morrelie's violet attire, but she was not buried.

"It's my turn, boy!" the mage roared, her eyes locked in a glare, but her expression that of sadistic glee. Bits of Kristov's wall were broken off by Morrelie's invisible pull and then launched at him. They hit the ground in front and to the side of the man with a violent thud and subsequent energetic disassembly, noise and chaos ensuing as more were sent his way.

Above the clamor, Kristov could hear the cackling of the madwoman, hounding after one who gave quarter to the rejects of mankind.

[The Kingpin]

Kristov spun as he tilted forwards, his arms a whirlwind of motion that ultimately struck the earth, his polearms striking hilt first as he kneeled, as though in prayer. A protective barrier made of solid stone rose up around him, as the debris was drawn in to a single point just ahead of him, sucked out of Morrelie's influence. More and more rubble condensed itself around the ball of wreckage, until an impossibly dense orb stood before the slanted shelter.

And then it shot upwards, not directly at the mage, but past her. And then it exploded, a resounding crack filling the air as shrapnel, stone and glass shot forth from the orb, directly at the Interceptor, as Kristov himself closed in from below.

[C S]

Seeing as Kristov was so eager to take advantage of the situation he created, Morrelie believed it was only fair that he was the one to reap the consequences. Her wand went out to him, and her red rapier lashed out like the tongue of a frog. It was a frightful thing to behold, but Kristov found himself no worse for wear. The blade of energy was made into a lasso, snared around his midsection without the unfortunate effects of cutting into him.

Morrelie was content with letting his own petard take care of that. As with a frog's tongue, the red snare retracted towards its caster, wrenching Kristov with it. Morrelie threw her other hand outwards simultaneously, and a single one of her magical chains launched from the space near her palm with a golden mist and shining light. The head of it hooked onto the rubble out of harm's way, Morrelie grabbed ahold of it, and was then yanked out of the shower of shrapnel as the necromancer was pulled into it.

Little did she know, she hadn't escaped unharmed. Her purple fabric had frayed around the edges of bleeding gashes.

[The Kingpin]

Kristov's arms whirled before him even as he tumbled into the shrapnel, causing it to arc around him before continuing their trajectory towards the mage. He gritted his teeth as he considered his options, the idea occurring to him in a moment. Flipping end over end as he did, he twisted until he hit the ground, facing the Interceptor.

[C S]

Morrelie did not have need for similar acrobatics, despite what her uniform represented in the forlorn past. Confronted with a brigade of razor-rubble and the necromancer's further intent, she simply waved her wand out to the side. With that plain gesture, a powerful shockwave came into being directly in front of the mage. It was a concentrated kinetic blast, and the edge of the barrage of force was made visible as pale vapor, rocketing forward into the gauntlet and scattering every shard of stone and flake of glass, before finally reaching Kristov and batting him off of his feet.

[The Kingpin]

The Disciple tumbled backwards in a controlled fall, swinging his polearms inwards in a pincer-like motion, the earth around Morrelie mirroring it, clamping down around her arms. He landed in a kneel, cloak and hood tattered from shrapnel that seemed to dance around him rather than seek to pass through him. The air rippled as though affected by immense heat, and shimmering veins could be seen just below the surface of the skin around the Disciple's eyes. "You are...quite the persistent one," he said, flicking one polearm upwards as a crystalline spike burst forth from the ground behind her, threatening to impale the immobile mage.

[C S]

Another sequence of flashing light in circulation preceded the sharp crack, like a thunderclap, that freed the Interceptor and sundered the spike. Fragments of earth and crystal were suspended around her, some illuminated by the red and white glow from her wand. "Likewise. Irritatingly so," Morrelie replied with apt irritation. "The only thing worse than ineffective tactics, are ineffective tactics used repeatedly."

Morrelie held her empty hand out and an unseen pressure forced Kristov's limbs to his sides, as though he were grabbed like an ordinary ragdoll. She made a pulling motion, and the man was flung towards her all the same.

[The Kingpin]

As he was drawn inwards, his skin darkened, becoming rough and scaly, his aura bursting outward forcefully, and a sensation of incredible fatigue washed over the Interceptor. In moments, she could feel her arms like sandbags, her head itself feeling heavy much as her limbs did. By then, the pull was no longer her own, but the Disciple's, closing in. "I was hoping you'd do that."

He lifted an arm forward, poised towards her chest, his polearm momentarily ignored, as several shimmering strands began to form, reaching out towards her as the exhaustion started to bring with a sickly sensation.

[C S]

With but a glare from the mage, Kristov felt as if the world itself had turned against him just moments before he could follow through with his attack. The sensation was that of a sudden blow right over his head, reaching through the entirety of his body before he was driven into the ground, made to kneel against his will. This impossible weight increased gradually, and deliberately, enough to make Kristov believe he would be swallowed up by the ground in a mockery of his previous displays.

Morrelie said nothing, for she was unable to. It was by a guiding principle that she did not release her wand as her body failed. She was versed in these kinds of magical effects, given her own denomination of study, so she was not overwhelmed by Kristov's ability. Conversely, he was subjected to the one thing Morrelie had in spades: her unbreakable will, manifested as physical force. The mind acting in place of the body while she held her steely stare.

[The Kingpin]

So this is how a human lives to be so old, and grow to be so strong...Sheer force of will.

It was a thought that, for a moment, had him forgetting the gravity of the fight, his body acting in his stead while his mind lingered on that thought. Sheer stubborn determination. It was almost humorous. Almost. It was also deeply unsettling.

The Disciple's glare was no less intense than Morrelie's own, her will clashing with the will of Necros within the necromancer. It was a humbling moment for Kristov, to be both a wielder and spectator of such an awesome power. His might, the might gifted by the Lord of Change, was a mere inkling of that of the Archdemon himself, but it was sufficient to halt the Interceptor's powers in place. She could cripple his ability to pursue his intentions, hold him in his tracks as much as he could her, but she lacked the power to destroy him outright.

The glow around his eyes culminated in two points on his forehead, as what seemed to be living flame spilled forth and spiralled, creating two curving horns that jutted forwards and upwards, a menacing smile that was not his own curling across his face for a moment as the flames turned green.

In a powerful pulse of arcane might, they were blown away from eachother, the blast scorching the ground beneath them and melting the snow in the surrounding vicinity as they were both sent rocketing out of the village's ruined husk in an exact mirror of one another. Billowing trails of smoke followed their trajectory as they smashed through branches and tumbled through snowy earth before coming to a rough, smoking halt.

What manner of...?

Kristov examined his body, his clothes, his equipment. His skin was a few shades of saturation away from ashen, covered in such by the unexplained blast, and a web of dark green veins were visible beneath the skin of his hands, far more prominent than they had ever been before. His clothes were frayed and tattered, singed but intact despite the horrendous force and heat of the blast. His weapons were cast several feet to either side of him. Reaching for them, they shot towards his hand as though they were a part of him. He had no explanation for how it had happened, or why he was alive. For all intents and purposes, the various collisions should have reduced his bones to pulp, and yet here he stood, seemingly unscathed.

Praise be to Necros, the Lord of Change.

[C S]

Opposite Kristov by a margin of several feet, Morrelie picked herself up. Shaky to start with, her grit and stubbornness steadied her tired muscles. Morrelie had, as she had done against the masked dragon, enveloped herself in a forcefield to weather impacts that would have shattered her old bones, so she hadn't taken any harm from her short flight. Unlike her opponent however, the damage to her clothing was more than aesthetic. The tears incurred earlier were wide, fibrous strips, partially burned. The holes revealed the warped, pale skin underneath the fabric. However, the burns that were exposed to the cold air were not fresh, but the scars the mage already had.

She regarded the ripped and burned outfit with a level countenance, perhaps surprisingly accepting of it. "These things happen," she told herself. Morrelie looked across, spotting Kristov in his moment of reverie. The rest of his fold may have been nothing of note, but that one there was something else. "So are you playing host to your patron demon? That complicates things."

Morrelie spun her wand in her fingers, the magical rapier tracing a blurred scarlet pattern in the air before she clamped her grip down on the bone instrument. Killing Kristov wasn't in the cards.

Crippling him until she could properly dispose of the filth he represented, however, was still within her operational limits.

[The Kingpin]

Kristov flipped his weapons in hand, the polearms shining in the light of the sun above. The bone that it had once been made of had changed drastically. Where once bloody brown and beige had been, now was smooth ivory, pale and lustrous, sleek and almost polished. The points he had used to hold had warped just such that they resembled handgrips, though those grips took up much of the weapons' lengths, allowing for them to be used in different orientations. Between the segments that had once been vertebrae, the black and green core shone through, an otherworldly material no doubt harder than the shell that encased it. He braced himself, taking on a fighting stance. It seemed she had realised what he had; that their magic would get them nowhere in this fight. Not on its own, at least. And that was not a problem for the Disciple of Necros.

[C S]

No earthen claw to hold her. No soaring stone.

Finally.

There was one tangential notion before Morrelie sprung into action. A millennium was behind her, but she moved with the fluidity of those fabled Zuppo warriors that took to the air with every spin and kick, uniforms adorned with ribbons, banners on the underside of arms to mimic wings and fins, and studded leathery cuirasses. But they only had their martial arts techniques to give them flight.

The Interceptor raced towards Kristov, with her magic surpassing her to form flashing silvery paths that crackled with raw potential.

[The Kingpin]

Kristov was quick to react, weaving off to the side and around the path of magic, rolling to a halt as he stomped the ground with his leading foot, causing the ground to split just ahead of Morrelie's own feet, sinking down below what was ahead of her so that it seemed like a sudden steep step had risen from the ground, too close to step over. In the next motion, he swung his weapon upwards mid-lunge, poised to behead the Interceptor as she fell.

[C S]

At that moment, Morrelie's magic revealed its true nature when chains burst forth from the light, lashing out at Kristov's weapon. Four lines snagged and wrapped around the polearm before going taut. Ironically, they served to hold the weapon in place, rather than to take it from the necromancer, as Morrelie slipped her toes in the loops of semi-solid energy to climb straight up over the obstruction. After clearing it, Morrelie jumped straight into the air and kicked out, projecting another wave of kinetic force down onto Kristov to knock him off balance.

[The Kingpin]

The ground shifted suddenly and Kristov was pulled to the side, out of the way of the blast, the rock pushing upwards as he swung around the grip of the stationary polearm to deliver a vicious kick to Morrelie's chest, knocking her backwards and freeing the trapped weapon as he landed once more on the ground.

[C S]

Just as quickly, another bind extended from Morrelie's hand to find its way around the man's neck. This chain was not rigid; in fact, it was almost rope-like in quality, tightening around Kristov's neck as Morrelie pulled on its end to cancel her momentum and drive herself back towards him. As soon as she reversed her motion, the chain dispersed into a powdery mist of gold while Morrelie's feet returned to ground.

[The Kingpin]

Ground that, on impact, clamped down around her feet like a trap and tugged her down to her neck. Kristov had a few moments to rise to his feet before Morrelie would inevitable break free, all the more infuriated by his use of terramancy. He massaged his neck and gritted his teeth. This mage was as relentless as she was stubborn. He hadn't had time to learn the nature of his gift. He could not fight on these terms for much longer. Not without knowing the limits of his ability. He would have to employ something to buy him time. Looking at her, he held his arms out, pulling inwards as stone adhered to his extremities, assembling inwards and creating an armour around his form that was almost akin to a golem. Almost, but not quite. For what he had in mind, he had to be able to resist a blow or two.

[C S]

Hidden by the slit of her mask, Morrelie raised a brow. One man's trap was the same man's protection. Both were equally futile according to her purview. Lines of light converged on the mage, and the subsequent expulsion of energy shredded her rocky cage, allowing her to walk onwards out of the shallow crater.

"I'm going to take your legs off. That's how you keep someone still, not this primitive stone-magic nonsense," Morrelie told Kristov. She thought he heard her, but if he didn't, that was his own damn fault. It was a dip in the Interceptor's mood not helped by the presence of dirt inside of her battleworn suit.

[The Kingpin]

"I too, aspire to do grand feats. Not everyone is blessed so," responded Kristov in a tone that was distinctly matter-of-fact. If he had said it any other way, it would have seemed to be mocking. But there was an unusual sincerity in his words that seemed innocent of any such intention.

The same could not be said for the aura of defiling magic that spilled forth from his form, the necromancer's mere presence filled the air with a sense of profound wrongness that couldn't be attributed to the glowing reptilian eyes visible behind a crystalline visor. As the aura grew in intensity, one arm warped, the stone growing along it and condensing, glowing red with a heat he did not feel, until it finally formed a shield that extended along his lower arm, a solid piece of incredibly hard ore that had less in common with stone and more in common with steel.