Post by Cuki on Sept 27, 2008 16:47:58 GMT -5
Bridge to Cenril
Ahkall stands at the edge of the bridge, his masculine chest rising and falling with tempestuous breaths. Bestial eyes fixate upon Cenril with hatred, with hunger, and malice for the glory of the Maw; Lamech, one of his few religious figures.
Hvitr strides slowly into view from the west, the butt of his staff tapping softly into the dirt on each step. The wooden weapon is a pure white, matching the Saurian's cascading hair and robe. Indeed, even his skin is white, nearly translucent. A small smile twitches the corners of his mouth as he catches sight of Ahkall, and he approaches, remaining silent for now.
Ahkall allows the presence of Hvitr to be noted with something akin to a grin, betraying the serrated teeth.
Hvitr bows his head to the Wyrm, a surprising gesture from the haughty dragon. "Good evening to you," he says, his booming voice sounding slightly hushed. "What brings you here today?"
Ahkall's words are a chorus to the savage cry of destruction, violent tones wrought with nefarious syllables. "This place shall be destroyed."
Hvitr nods once more, an answering smile spreading across his face. "I shall join. The Avians will learn their place, when their stronghold lies in ruins, and their women and children are slaughtered." Without further comment, the Mage begins to shift, growing in size by enormous amounts, until alongside Ahkall stands a towering dragon, the scaled flesh a pure, clear crystal.
Lamech said to you, "Avians are not to be harmed."
Ahkall would begin this reign of torrentious power then; his form violently shuddering to a hellish slice alongside his front, blood spraying in a fountain of macabre waters like the breaking of a dam. A wicked cry erupts from the mouth of the human-guised Wyrm, before the air about him shifts dramatically, swirling to the centerfold at this gruesome sight, set alight to match the fiery magics that once binded him. Exiting is the Wyrm himself, in true glory, a monstrous beast of terrible size: an estimated two hundred feet long, and a girth the sheer size of the towers that herald this city. Circular maw opens to reveals millions of bladed teeth, as the wingless, legless being crashes thunderously into the ground. The impact is resounding, vehemently quaking the point of contact with the shudder of the land itself.
Ahkall heard the order in the midst, relaying it to Hvitr. <Attack the grounded ones, the clan 'Flaming Claw". Refrain from the avians.>
Hvitr 's now immense head once again rises and falls as he watches the sand wyrm. His wings then spread wide to either side, ribbed like those of a bat. With a massive push, the Crystal lifts himself into the air to hover a short distance above the land-bound Wyrm. "The Avians shall be spared for now, as a favor to you. Soon, though, they will face the flame. Now we begin." The voice now echoes out, rebounding from the walls and towers of the city before them.
Lamech said to Hvitr, "You will fall before their swarm, as did your ancestors, should you choose to provoke them in the future. You're all misguided in this age. Avians and dragons are bonded now. You must all work together as one entity."
Hvitr said to Lamech, "Why? You are not of the avian race. What do you care of its fate?"
Lamech said to Hvitr, "Their fate is your fate, and I am merely a messenger."
Hvitr said to Lamech, "A messenger of who, or what? Who gives you authority, that I should heed your words?"
Lamech said to Hvitr, "A messenger of one who made himself out of many. A being of several names and races. An avian called Shaelus-Khar. A dragon called Solaris. An Immortal called Elazul, and his son, Arrecation. I am a tool of his authority. Fear me not, but fear him that sent me. Through me he is aware, and through me his power resides in abundance."
Cuki appears from the west.
Ahkall wastes no time despite the idling distraction of the conversant above ground, the ground quaking and shivering with each yard taken by the rapid approach of this monstrosity. The bridge is left to rubble, cobblestone and cemented substance strewn aside and parted asunder with the vicious appearance of a true sand wyrm, none-too-subtle in motion ere the violent movements of a true bestial king. More likened to the soft feel of the sand closing about his body causes the movement to be slowed, less hastened than the preferred speed, but sheer size and brute terror more than make up for it; a cry echoing across the land as torches are quelled, pitiful wails and more belying crashes heard as Ahkall makes his appearance again. His cry is nothing less than deafening, settled by torn appendages caught savagely betwixt tooth and maw, and swiftly gobbled down that cavernous tunnel that is his throat
Hvitr 's hovering shape draws back slightly, icy blue eyes widening a bit as the dragon processes the human's words. After long moments of silence, he yet again nods his head, his words emitting slowly, reluctantly. "My fight with the avians shall cease for now. But, if the words you speak are lies, then I shall burn them all, and you with them, as payment for your treachery." With that said, he wheels in the air, sweeping down upon the guards that escaped the collapse, as they flee eastward to alert the rest of garrison. Flames spurt from Hvitr's maw, creating living torches that scream shrilly as they fall.
You some effort is made by the Human as he walks. Many a bandage bind his body covering the wounds of a battle not too long ago. They are not as clean as they should seem, though. Grayed by the dust of the mountains he passed under on his trek. The thick soot also hides the shine of the spear, which is more akin to a walking stick. However it can not be determined if the noise from the jingling from the Khakkhara or his hounding secretary is louder. Angry the Feline presses papers at the Monk demanding he signs this contract or complete that document. All met with simple groans as Cuki attempts to reach the Temple of Aramoth across the now ruined bridge. Before them are the great noisy beasts. Both are drawn into silence.
Ahkall notices neither the further prophecies by the Maw and reasonable squabbling left by Hvitr, nor the appearance of two being, both belied in the eyes of the Wyrm by the horrendous acts of violence ensuing. Cries of death mark the area, resonating through forest and mountain alike, ringing true across the ocean and to whatever lands reside beyond, all dotted sparodically by the upbringing of stone, blood, and dust. Roars are bellowed like challenges to whatever little resistance first met, the two hundred yard long beast continuously marking his violent presence with mass kill and serrating jaws. The tower that corners the now-ruined bridge shudders as the colossal being crashes head-first into it to the depths of the earth below, giving way as nothign holds it up. Torches lit fires in their plummet, quickly joining the heat of Hvitr's own infernal breath, as bodies are clearly visible being thrown across the rising dust.
Hvitr's talons latch on to a fleeing soldier, deaf to his screams as he gains altitude, dropping the terrified human at the peak of his ascent. Down the soldier tumbles, landing with a sickening thud near the traveling monk.
You retreats backwards as the battle grows more violent. For either side there is not much he could do aside from observe. A surprise attack is meet with chaos within the cities' walls. Following the roars of battle from the Dragons are the horns of war. Blaring from the tops of the bastions calling the Royal Avian army to arms. With haste they don mail and plate. Well practiced and used spears, axes, swords, and shields are taken up. These are no peasants, after all, but well trained soldiers of a proud military. Initial confusion is reigned tightly under the control of shouting commanders. Order is set as the small regiment that defends the city takes flight. Hundreds of armed to the teeth Avians take to the sky, prepared to battle their long time foes. In tight formation they form winged flights in a sharp V-shape, six men to each formation.
Ahkall :: The knight sky is filled with these creatures of feather and airborne velocity, made recognizable by their white tresses, shined plate, only to be disregarded by the Wyrm; an easier task than his flying counterpart, Hvitr. With more cautiousness now Ahkall bellies lower to the ground, his upward leaps and tower-felling antics becoming rapidly more rare, before nearly ceasing altogether. Cries from the ground forces of men and wingless mortals still reign in the air, however, the protruding path of destruction left by the beast visible by strewn torches that illuminate fallen and shredded bodies of unprepared defenders. Roar meets the cry of war as the beast continues to cause violent havoc upon the ground with maw, tail, and head to disestablish building and life alike.
Hvitr cannot refrain from letting out a loud roar of his own, anger and frustration at Lamech's command ringing clearly through the cry. As the horde of Avians invade his skies, Hvitr flies yet higher, increasing his speed so as to jet over them, toward the city beyond. As he passes over them, his descent begins, homing in on one of the watchtowers. He glances back toward the avians, though, anticipating the pursuit.
You simply can not help but smile at the discipline held by the soliders. A stark contrast to the disorder of rogue fighters he witnesses so often in most other races. They are not ones to be ignored. As if one massive being they dip down and way, spiraling away from updrafts of the spreading fires. Behind the support ranks split off to the descending Hvitr while the lead ranks stiffen their spears against their bodies. Precision maneuvers to a well known foe. Against Hvitr dive those armed with axes, while those most forward armed only with large shields to guard against the fiery breath. Tightly each soldier holds the wide, finely made shields which seem to be made of little more than a sheet of enchanted mithril. A swift approach is held until the very last moment, breaking to reveal several wings of troops. Right on top of the Dragon they tighten back the battle-axes and let fly. Ahkall, aside from the forward spear men, is meet by four groups of the Flight Mages. Trailing behind each V is a raw orb of crafted energy. The balls of lightning crackle in protest against their combined wills. Splitting away and ahead of the main group over the Wyrm they let loose their bombs of destruction.
Demont, one of the elder beings of this forsaken world appeared slowly upon the bridge of his city, his steely eyes taking in those present with a mild curiosity. He noticed Ahkall most of all while the rest he might scarcely recognize.
Lamech takes a step forward before his body deftly lifts into the air amidst the battle going on. As his dark hair flutters in the wind, it reveals a red gem embedded into the back of his neck. The jewel bears a mark on it, but only those close to the man would be able to see it with anything allowing recognition. Ribbons of crimson energy pulse rhythmically away from the crystal as he surveys the scene. Obviously disturbed that the Avians do not yet understand his message, his face takes on a rather disturbed look.
Demont was at the moment most concerned by Lamech and focused his attention on the human. Those around him were disregarded as he rose to the same level as Lamech, his pearly feathered wings offering him a steady hover. "What business do you and the rest have approaching this city with ill intent?" He asked calmly, the same wind which blew the others hair about caused Demont's to billow outwards so that his face was framed in a torrent on wisp like strands of hair.
Ahkall continues his assault upon the city itself; the bombs merely hindering his destruction with a terrible cry and writhing spasms. They are violent, and cause more destruction than the intended ceasing thereof, his tail flailing around to knock over building after building -men and arms alike strewn aside with its powerful force. Rearing his head back, Ahkall's maw opens in that circular fashion, unleashing a tirade of acidic spittle 'pon the grounded foes and streets, cackling of burned flesh and mangled screams rising in the air of the combat.
Garrit happened to be strolling along the pathway from Kelay to Cenril, well, when he came upon a war of sorts. Taking care to find a rock to rest behind for the moment, Garrit watched, bewildered by the sight ahead of him. Able to spot the lifting form of Demont, changed his facial expression altogether. Demont?s appearance had brought a confidence to Garrit that was overwhelming to the young man. Offering some sort of sign he was here, the young male hoped his Avian teacher could spot him.
Hvitr is once more forced to divert his attack, veering away from the massed troops in an attempt to outrun the axe men, the buffets of air from his wings being the only thing that saves his crystalline hide as the Avian warriors are blown back. Again the dragon rises, his pale aura lighting the sky like a small moon. He sets to circling, keen ears attuned to the voices of both Lamech and the avian commander, though an eye is ever kept on the legions of avians.
Lamech narrowed his eyes at Demont briefly, "Where are the floating cities? Has construction not even yet begun? Have I chosen wrongly in whom I bestowed my knowledge of the ancient past? Bring me Daesith at once, and inform him that it is Shaelus-Khar who wishes to speak with him."
Arysel stood on the fringes of the battle. The scent of charred flesh making her want to gag, and the cries of wounded of all races pierced her soft heart, making the Bardess want to weap. However, she stills the impulse and simply watches from a safe distance. When it ended, if it ended, the wounded would be tended. At the moment, something, or rather someone else had most of her attention though a keen eye was kept on the dragons and thier kin, allies and such. Pulling her cape tighter around herself, Arysel's hand strays to the body of her lyre..just in case.
Demont only bowed his head mere inches towards Shaelus-Khar before returning his piercing eyes to those gathered. "I am Demont-Khar. Daesith-Khar's task is not to raise the cities, but mine. His task is to gather the rest of our kind for when the cities are returned. This city," he regards Cenril which is at his back, with the seas beyond sparkling like a jewel encrusted blanket beneath the shining moon. "is my city. It's people mine, and soon to be the first of the great cities in the clouds. Patience, Shaelus-Khar." Each word of Demont was spoken calmly, the Avian forces which had taken to the skies had for now halted, regarding the two beings below them as they conversed.
Ahkall shifts back into his human-guise as the other forces halt, ragged and tired rather than his usual bestial self.
Hvitr 's circles take him further and further down, giving the enemy forces a wide berth as he settles once again onto solid ground. He folds his wings up along his flanks, but seems to intend to keep this current form. He approaches Demont and Lamech, eyes flicking from one to the other.
Lamech motions down to the city with his right hand, "This? This was built by the descendants of those who fled the destruction of Crius, combined with those who lived in Senal. It the creation of lesser minds. Why would you seek to elevate it to our standards? Raise the mountains themselves, as was done with Ashtaeum and her sister-cities. Where is your Senate, that you are in charge of something beyond your boundaries as a General? Why are you making threats to the dragons? Did they not ally with us in our vain stand against the Immortals? It was a dragon who preserved my soul. It was his sacrifice that led to my return. Should you forget the deeds of Solaris so easily? Has Kazzragothk's achievements been ignored as well? Or is your mind only young enough to remember that great Wyrm as Kaizer? So much yet to be done..."
Demont said to Lamech, "Perhaps you have been absent far too long. The dragons are not as they once were. They would have the skies to themselves. As well, you must take into account that since I brought about our reemergence, many of the young have forgotten their place as well as discount my authority as well as Daesith-Khar's. I advise to you General that you cease recounting the past to me and aid in building the future. Why have the cities not risen? Because many of our kind are lazy in this new age. I returned from the dead to see our great race prosper again, but I can not do it alone."
Ahkall moves toward Lamech, the Maw visible within the eyes of the bestial savage; a reverent look briefly passing over them. It seems that the harbinger is more pleased with the dragons rather than the Avians right now.
Lamech said to Demont, "We must put our differences with the dragons aside, for we are in their debt. Work together, and the skies belong to us. We don't need a repeat of the first war. As for building the future, unlock the gates of the Underworld that I might return in full, and I shall see to it that our place in history is cemented once again."
Arysel snorts at the crystalline dragon's comment. She may not be close, but her hearing is decent enough. Trying to remain unobtrusive, the Avian begins to move among the wounded, offering a comforting word here and there, even a smile to those who are soon to leave this world. In her mind, she is seperating those who can and can not be saved. Sadly, she can only help those who have a chance of living.
Demont said to Hvitr, "It is not with you that my patience runs thin, but the young and insolent of your kind. As well, the decision alone is not mine to make on such a matter as this."
Cuki strains to hear the words of the gathered. However between the fires, rescue personal, distance, and Najide it becomes a hopeless task. Commanders and politics had taken over. Left to clean up the mess are hard working soldiers and the men and women of Cenril. The misery of war quickly tossed to the side in the idle talk of aristocracy. Like ants the people of Cenril scatter about trying to save their city, fields, and homes. A disgusting matter. Cuki rises from his place of rest on the side of the road. An effort he can not even accomplish on his own, requiring the assistance of his secretary. Disdain fills the Monk from his own uselessness. Barred by both injury and the destruction of the bridge there is nothing he can do. Turning back the way he came in a limp walk, Cuki finally agrees to sign that document being thrust at him when he returns to the pub.
Ahkall stands at the edge of the bridge, his masculine chest rising and falling with tempestuous breaths. Bestial eyes fixate upon Cenril with hatred, with hunger, and malice for the glory of the Maw; Lamech, one of his few religious figures.
Hvitr strides slowly into view from the west, the butt of his staff tapping softly into the dirt on each step. The wooden weapon is a pure white, matching the Saurian's cascading hair and robe. Indeed, even his skin is white, nearly translucent. A small smile twitches the corners of his mouth as he catches sight of Ahkall, and he approaches, remaining silent for now.
Ahkall allows the presence of Hvitr to be noted with something akin to a grin, betraying the serrated teeth.
Hvitr bows his head to the Wyrm, a surprising gesture from the haughty dragon. "Good evening to you," he says, his booming voice sounding slightly hushed. "What brings you here today?"
Ahkall's words are a chorus to the savage cry of destruction, violent tones wrought with nefarious syllables. "This place shall be destroyed."
Hvitr nods once more, an answering smile spreading across his face. "I shall join. The Avians will learn their place, when their stronghold lies in ruins, and their women and children are slaughtered." Without further comment, the Mage begins to shift, growing in size by enormous amounts, until alongside Ahkall stands a towering dragon, the scaled flesh a pure, clear crystal.
Lamech said to you, "Avians are not to be harmed."
Ahkall would begin this reign of torrentious power then; his form violently shuddering to a hellish slice alongside his front, blood spraying in a fountain of macabre waters like the breaking of a dam. A wicked cry erupts from the mouth of the human-guised Wyrm, before the air about him shifts dramatically, swirling to the centerfold at this gruesome sight, set alight to match the fiery magics that once binded him. Exiting is the Wyrm himself, in true glory, a monstrous beast of terrible size: an estimated two hundred feet long, and a girth the sheer size of the towers that herald this city. Circular maw opens to reveals millions of bladed teeth, as the wingless, legless being crashes thunderously into the ground. The impact is resounding, vehemently quaking the point of contact with the shudder of the land itself.
Ahkall heard the order in the midst, relaying it to Hvitr. <Attack the grounded ones, the clan 'Flaming Claw". Refrain from the avians.>
Hvitr 's now immense head once again rises and falls as he watches the sand wyrm. His wings then spread wide to either side, ribbed like those of a bat. With a massive push, the Crystal lifts himself into the air to hover a short distance above the land-bound Wyrm. "The Avians shall be spared for now, as a favor to you. Soon, though, they will face the flame. Now we begin." The voice now echoes out, rebounding from the walls and towers of the city before them.
Lamech said to Hvitr, "You will fall before their swarm, as did your ancestors, should you choose to provoke them in the future. You're all misguided in this age. Avians and dragons are bonded now. You must all work together as one entity."
Hvitr said to Lamech, "Why? You are not of the avian race. What do you care of its fate?"
Lamech said to Hvitr, "Their fate is your fate, and I am merely a messenger."
Hvitr said to Lamech, "A messenger of who, or what? Who gives you authority, that I should heed your words?"
Lamech said to Hvitr, "A messenger of one who made himself out of many. A being of several names and races. An avian called Shaelus-Khar. A dragon called Solaris. An Immortal called Elazul, and his son, Arrecation. I am a tool of his authority. Fear me not, but fear him that sent me. Through me he is aware, and through me his power resides in abundance."
Cuki appears from the west.
Ahkall wastes no time despite the idling distraction of the conversant above ground, the ground quaking and shivering with each yard taken by the rapid approach of this monstrosity. The bridge is left to rubble, cobblestone and cemented substance strewn aside and parted asunder with the vicious appearance of a true sand wyrm, none-too-subtle in motion ere the violent movements of a true bestial king. More likened to the soft feel of the sand closing about his body causes the movement to be slowed, less hastened than the preferred speed, but sheer size and brute terror more than make up for it; a cry echoing across the land as torches are quelled, pitiful wails and more belying crashes heard as Ahkall makes his appearance again. His cry is nothing less than deafening, settled by torn appendages caught savagely betwixt tooth and maw, and swiftly gobbled down that cavernous tunnel that is his throat
Hvitr 's hovering shape draws back slightly, icy blue eyes widening a bit as the dragon processes the human's words. After long moments of silence, he yet again nods his head, his words emitting slowly, reluctantly. "My fight with the avians shall cease for now. But, if the words you speak are lies, then I shall burn them all, and you with them, as payment for your treachery." With that said, he wheels in the air, sweeping down upon the guards that escaped the collapse, as they flee eastward to alert the rest of garrison. Flames spurt from Hvitr's maw, creating living torches that scream shrilly as they fall.
You some effort is made by the Human as he walks. Many a bandage bind his body covering the wounds of a battle not too long ago. They are not as clean as they should seem, though. Grayed by the dust of the mountains he passed under on his trek. The thick soot also hides the shine of the spear, which is more akin to a walking stick. However it can not be determined if the noise from the jingling from the Khakkhara or his hounding secretary is louder. Angry the Feline presses papers at the Monk demanding he signs this contract or complete that document. All met with simple groans as Cuki attempts to reach the Temple of Aramoth across the now ruined bridge. Before them are the great noisy beasts. Both are drawn into silence.
Ahkall notices neither the further prophecies by the Maw and reasonable squabbling left by Hvitr, nor the appearance of two being, both belied in the eyes of the Wyrm by the horrendous acts of violence ensuing. Cries of death mark the area, resonating through forest and mountain alike, ringing true across the ocean and to whatever lands reside beyond, all dotted sparodically by the upbringing of stone, blood, and dust. Roars are bellowed like challenges to whatever little resistance first met, the two hundred yard long beast continuously marking his violent presence with mass kill and serrating jaws. The tower that corners the now-ruined bridge shudders as the colossal being crashes head-first into it to the depths of the earth below, giving way as nothign holds it up. Torches lit fires in their plummet, quickly joining the heat of Hvitr's own infernal breath, as bodies are clearly visible being thrown across the rising dust.
Hvitr's talons latch on to a fleeing soldier, deaf to his screams as he gains altitude, dropping the terrified human at the peak of his ascent. Down the soldier tumbles, landing with a sickening thud near the traveling monk.
You retreats backwards as the battle grows more violent. For either side there is not much he could do aside from observe. A surprise attack is meet with chaos within the cities' walls. Following the roars of battle from the Dragons are the horns of war. Blaring from the tops of the bastions calling the Royal Avian army to arms. With haste they don mail and plate. Well practiced and used spears, axes, swords, and shields are taken up. These are no peasants, after all, but well trained soldiers of a proud military. Initial confusion is reigned tightly under the control of shouting commanders. Order is set as the small regiment that defends the city takes flight. Hundreds of armed to the teeth Avians take to the sky, prepared to battle their long time foes. In tight formation they form winged flights in a sharp V-shape, six men to each formation.
Ahkall :: The knight sky is filled with these creatures of feather and airborne velocity, made recognizable by their white tresses, shined plate, only to be disregarded by the Wyrm; an easier task than his flying counterpart, Hvitr. With more cautiousness now Ahkall bellies lower to the ground, his upward leaps and tower-felling antics becoming rapidly more rare, before nearly ceasing altogether. Cries from the ground forces of men and wingless mortals still reign in the air, however, the protruding path of destruction left by the beast visible by strewn torches that illuminate fallen and shredded bodies of unprepared defenders. Roar meets the cry of war as the beast continues to cause violent havoc upon the ground with maw, tail, and head to disestablish building and life alike.
Hvitr cannot refrain from letting out a loud roar of his own, anger and frustration at Lamech's command ringing clearly through the cry. As the horde of Avians invade his skies, Hvitr flies yet higher, increasing his speed so as to jet over them, toward the city beyond. As he passes over them, his descent begins, homing in on one of the watchtowers. He glances back toward the avians, though, anticipating the pursuit.
You simply can not help but smile at the discipline held by the soliders. A stark contrast to the disorder of rogue fighters he witnesses so often in most other races. They are not ones to be ignored. As if one massive being they dip down and way, spiraling away from updrafts of the spreading fires. Behind the support ranks split off to the descending Hvitr while the lead ranks stiffen their spears against their bodies. Precision maneuvers to a well known foe. Against Hvitr dive those armed with axes, while those most forward armed only with large shields to guard against the fiery breath. Tightly each soldier holds the wide, finely made shields which seem to be made of little more than a sheet of enchanted mithril. A swift approach is held until the very last moment, breaking to reveal several wings of troops. Right on top of the Dragon they tighten back the battle-axes and let fly. Ahkall, aside from the forward spear men, is meet by four groups of the Flight Mages. Trailing behind each V is a raw orb of crafted energy. The balls of lightning crackle in protest against their combined wills. Splitting away and ahead of the main group over the Wyrm they let loose their bombs of destruction.
Demont, one of the elder beings of this forsaken world appeared slowly upon the bridge of his city, his steely eyes taking in those present with a mild curiosity. He noticed Ahkall most of all while the rest he might scarcely recognize.
Lamech takes a step forward before his body deftly lifts into the air amidst the battle going on. As his dark hair flutters in the wind, it reveals a red gem embedded into the back of his neck. The jewel bears a mark on it, but only those close to the man would be able to see it with anything allowing recognition. Ribbons of crimson energy pulse rhythmically away from the crystal as he surveys the scene. Obviously disturbed that the Avians do not yet understand his message, his face takes on a rather disturbed look.
Demont was at the moment most concerned by Lamech and focused his attention on the human. Those around him were disregarded as he rose to the same level as Lamech, his pearly feathered wings offering him a steady hover. "What business do you and the rest have approaching this city with ill intent?" He asked calmly, the same wind which blew the others hair about caused Demont's to billow outwards so that his face was framed in a torrent on wisp like strands of hair.
Ahkall continues his assault upon the city itself; the bombs merely hindering his destruction with a terrible cry and writhing spasms. They are violent, and cause more destruction than the intended ceasing thereof, his tail flailing around to knock over building after building -men and arms alike strewn aside with its powerful force. Rearing his head back, Ahkall's maw opens in that circular fashion, unleashing a tirade of acidic spittle 'pon the grounded foes and streets, cackling of burned flesh and mangled screams rising in the air of the combat.
Garrit happened to be strolling along the pathway from Kelay to Cenril, well, when he came upon a war of sorts. Taking care to find a rock to rest behind for the moment, Garrit watched, bewildered by the sight ahead of him. Able to spot the lifting form of Demont, changed his facial expression altogether. Demont?s appearance had brought a confidence to Garrit that was overwhelming to the young man. Offering some sort of sign he was here, the young male hoped his Avian teacher could spot him.
Hvitr is once more forced to divert his attack, veering away from the massed troops in an attempt to outrun the axe men, the buffets of air from his wings being the only thing that saves his crystalline hide as the Avian warriors are blown back. Again the dragon rises, his pale aura lighting the sky like a small moon. He sets to circling, keen ears attuned to the voices of both Lamech and the avian commander, though an eye is ever kept on the legions of avians.
Lamech narrowed his eyes at Demont briefly, "Where are the floating cities? Has construction not even yet begun? Have I chosen wrongly in whom I bestowed my knowledge of the ancient past? Bring me Daesith at once, and inform him that it is Shaelus-Khar who wishes to speak with him."
Arysel stood on the fringes of the battle. The scent of charred flesh making her want to gag, and the cries of wounded of all races pierced her soft heart, making the Bardess want to weap. However, she stills the impulse and simply watches from a safe distance. When it ended, if it ended, the wounded would be tended. At the moment, something, or rather someone else had most of her attention though a keen eye was kept on the dragons and thier kin, allies and such. Pulling her cape tighter around herself, Arysel's hand strays to the body of her lyre..just in case.
Demont only bowed his head mere inches towards Shaelus-Khar before returning his piercing eyes to those gathered. "I am Demont-Khar. Daesith-Khar's task is not to raise the cities, but mine. His task is to gather the rest of our kind for when the cities are returned. This city," he regards Cenril which is at his back, with the seas beyond sparkling like a jewel encrusted blanket beneath the shining moon. "is my city. It's people mine, and soon to be the first of the great cities in the clouds. Patience, Shaelus-Khar." Each word of Demont was spoken calmly, the Avian forces which had taken to the skies had for now halted, regarding the two beings below them as they conversed.
Ahkall shifts back into his human-guise as the other forces halt, ragged and tired rather than his usual bestial self.
Hvitr 's circles take him further and further down, giving the enemy forces a wide berth as he settles once again onto solid ground. He folds his wings up along his flanks, but seems to intend to keep this current form. He approaches Demont and Lamech, eyes flicking from one to the other.
Lamech motions down to the city with his right hand, "This? This was built by the descendants of those who fled the destruction of Crius, combined with those who lived in Senal. It the creation of lesser minds. Why would you seek to elevate it to our standards? Raise the mountains themselves, as was done with Ashtaeum and her sister-cities. Where is your Senate, that you are in charge of something beyond your boundaries as a General? Why are you making threats to the dragons? Did they not ally with us in our vain stand against the Immortals? It was a dragon who preserved my soul. It was his sacrifice that led to my return. Should you forget the deeds of Solaris so easily? Has Kazzragothk's achievements been ignored as well? Or is your mind only young enough to remember that great Wyrm as Kaizer? So much yet to be done..."
Demont said to Lamech, "Perhaps you have been absent far too long. The dragons are not as they once were. They would have the skies to themselves. As well, you must take into account that since I brought about our reemergence, many of the young have forgotten their place as well as discount my authority as well as Daesith-Khar's. I advise to you General that you cease recounting the past to me and aid in building the future. Why have the cities not risen? Because many of our kind are lazy in this new age. I returned from the dead to see our great race prosper again, but I can not do it alone."
Ahkall moves toward Lamech, the Maw visible within the eyes of the bestial savage; a reverent look briefly passing over them. It seems that the harbinger is more pleased with the dragons rather than the Avians right now.
Lamech said to Demont, "We must put our differences with the dragons aside, for we are in their debt. Work together, and the skies belong to us. We don't need a repeat of the first war. As for building the future, unlock the gates of the Underworld that I might return in full, and I shall see to it that our place in history is cemented once again."
Arysel snorts at the crystalline dragon's comment. She may not be close, but her hearing is decent enough. Trying to remain unobtrusive, the Avian begins to move among the wounded, offering a comforting word here and there, even a smile to those who are soon to leave this world. In her mind, she is seperating those who can and can not be saved. Sadly, she can only help those who have a chance of living.
Demont said to Hvitr, "It is not with you that my patience runs thin, but the young and insolent of your kind. As well, the decision alone is not mine to make on such a matter as this."
Cuki strains to hear the words of the gathered. However between the fires, rescue personal, distance, and Najide it becomes a hopeless task. Commanders and politics had taken over. Left to clean up the mess are hard working soldiers and the men and women of Cenril. The misery of war quickly tossed to the side in the idle talk of aristocracy. Like ants the people of Cenril scatter about trying to save their city, fields, and homes. A disgusting matter. Cuki rises from his place of rest on the side of the road. An effort he can not even accomplish on his own, requiring the assistance of his secretary. Disdain fills the Monk from his own uselessness. Barred by both injury and the destruction of the bridge there is nothing he can do. Turning back the way he came in a limp walk, Cuki finally agrees to sign that document being thrust at him when he returns to the pub.