Date: September 9, 2000 (Aether: January 25, 3907)
Place: Naglfar - Central Bay - Haven Bay - Ocean, Beach - Haven
Cast: Artin, Axel, Bjorn, Caioma, Caleb, Cyrene, Fabien, Geridan, Hafeez, Izak, Jenner, Jihaad, Katya, Keegan, Leif, Liolya, Maat, Okalani, Sebastienne, Sumai, Svala, Sven, Thorvald, Vladimir
Scene: Strange invaders, accompanied by a blizzard, attack Haven, and the races must band together in order to fend them off.
Note: All words in red indicate those spoken in the Aesir language. Those in blue denote telepathy.

Announcement: More reports come up from the beach, hurried messages that indeed there is a boat out in the bay, but one of construction that has never been seen before. Whales too, if you can believe it. Atlanteans that have seen it claim that it's like nothing they've ever seen, certainly not in these waters.

Beach - Haven:
      Soft sands from years of gentle ocean currents greet the feet of those who explore the expanse of beach that leads from the streets of Haven to the edges of ocean. The hushed roar of the waves can be heard, a lulling sound to the attentive ear. The sand stretches out for about a quarter of a mile and allows for plenty of space for pursuits of leisure. Depending upon the time, you may be graced by the awe-striking sunset, the peaceful glow of the moon, or the comforting rays of the midday sun. Several ocean birds fly overhead as if frolicking around and playing in the air, occasionally swooping down towards the ocean surface to retrieve a tasty morsel.
      The ocean itself seems to be calm and relaxing near the shore for several hundred feet before the sands slope harshly and drop. There, the water is safe only for experienced swimmers and boaters. There is a small path that leads towards the town that is paved with sand and lined on either side by flowers.

Thorvald holds his axe, wind whipping through his hair. "Ready! he shouts. "Glory and Valholl await us!"

Axe in hand, a warrior at the front of the boat pulls an axe from her side and leaps to the beach with a loud cry. Her wings spread -- but they are hardly the size of what one would see upon a 'normal' Empyrean. Still, they halt her fall to the sand and she lands, eyes narrowed and axe hefted against any that might stray too near.

From the odd boat, another warrior flexes his legs and sends himself soaring into the air in a gliding jump that brings his large form crashing to the snow-covered beach. Axe gripped in hand he scans the area searching, searching for some poor fool to bash.

The waters churn in frothy anger, tossing smaller fishing vessels like toys and crushing the thin layer of ice that has formed in shallow water. Waves crash to the shore, pounding the surf in unrelenting fury. Dark figures rise from the waters -- they must be Atlanteans -- and wade toward the beach as if the sway of the water had little effect on their movement.

Thorvald leaps from the prow of the boat with a terrible cry, wind whipping through his hair, and thunder crashing over the sea. His ruddy, armored wings spread out to catch the air, allowing him to glide, if not truly fly. The look in his eyes and the axe in his hand both promise death and destruction.

Korallion guards work with Hounds, trying to maintain some semblance of order, the silent communication and teamwork of the Atlanteans providing an eerie counterpoint to the hastily-barked orders of the city guards. A few step forward to 'greet' the newcomers.

As the great dragon-headed ship beaches itself upon the shore, a wave rides along beside it, cresting itself above the other waves as it strives towards the sand. The strong, controlled wave rises beside the ship and washes up the beach to deliver a strange, alien figure....

Skin a luminescent white that speaks of ice, wings of a translucent membrane stretch out behind until they're pulled tight against the figure's back. Liolya stops by the boat and black eyes look dispassionately out amidst the snow.

Silent and dreadful, white as ice, a contingent of Atlanteans leap as one from the boat into the water. Led by one, each has a long knife out in a hand. No expressions are set upon their faces, but in their eyes is death. A fine web of thought spans out between each one, its focal point, the leader, is Izak.

In the distant waves, a number of large orcas, shadowed ghosts limned with spray, breach and jump in the frigid waters. While a number of Atlanteans rise from the water, a woman is among them who is clearly something more, or something else. Ice-pale, Cyrene steps up beside her sister, wings of translucent, fragile membrane arching behind her, glistening dully.

Behind the winged warriors, more bald Atlanteans, contrasting to their dark brethren by their ghastly white appearance, slip from the ship, landing on the sandy beach, water playing around their ankles. All of them are armed with bone and coral weapons -- spears and blades. All except Katya, a tall female form approaching from the background, standing out with her long, silver hair from the warriors.

Making their way through the storm as best they can, a contingent of Hounds arrive at the beach. Some of the men are still buckling on their swords or coats, but all of them look ready for the worst. Perhaps the Varati have finally snapped and are attacking the Atlanteans. At the fore of the indigo clad Hounds is Caioma, looking serious and trying to dispel her sense of foreboding.

Vladimir casts a brief glance back over his shoulder toward his brother as another wave crashes to the shore, swamping those nearby with icy water. He wears no expression either, his face is schooled to complete impassivity as he directs another wall of water toward the beach and those that would dare impede their progress.

More figures fall from the deck of the ship, each a near-copy of the first few. Empyrean in nature, but not like any Empyrean of Haven. These bear a robust nature rarely seen in that aerial race. Broad. Tall. Thick. Dark. A rainbow of browns and icy whites are displayed in their short, stocky wings unsuited for full flight. And not a single one looks likely to engage in polite conversation.

Weapons unsheathed, it feels more like the prelude to a full-out attack than a diplomatic party that gathers on the water's edge.

Bundled against the cold and the snow which blinds from all sides, the tall figure of a golden-eyed woman slides like a ghost over the sand dunes and down onto the beach. Mingling with the gathering crowd, the tall woman does not draw attention to herself, though when the snow clears near her body, it can be seen that fine, warm cloth adorns her body with decorations that proclaim her as being a member of Clan al'Samar.

A few foot-paces behind Caioma, a massive Varati Hound marches, his eyes set upon the scene before him and struggling to suppress both bewilderment and wonder. There is no fire in the man today -- he is ice, and his crystalline spheres drift from Atlantean to Atlantean, regarding, discarding, and filing. Exhaling a deep breath, Geridan tightens the grip he holds upon the hilt of his blade. All he can do now, is wait.

Moving amongst the Hounds with Caioma is Caleb. He seems rather impassive... that is, until his eyes widen as he takes in the vision set upon the beach. Never has the mongrel seen such a... strange sight. He frowns, though, knowing that this cannot be well if these creatures are setting upon the beach in such a manner. His hand tightens around the staff he carries and he draws himself straight, preparing for what may happen.

Telepathically to: Vladimir Izak: Katya keeps in close telepathic contact with the Najada force ready to charge. Her confidence is fully upon Izak and those entrusted with him, and a sending of Vodyanoi's blessing touches each single one of the voyak's mind. Her own status is waiting, assessing the strength of the strange armed figures before them -- and soon coming to the conclusion that there they have little to hold against.

Among the spectators who dared to brace the dangers of storm and the unknown is a small group of warriors which have arrayed themselves around two women of distinctive Atlantean and Sylvan origins. The Korallion guards have unsheathed their harpoons while their landdweller counterparts clad in the red and blacks of the Hounds hold their smaller weapons on the ready.

An annoyed glance is given to them by the young priestess, but they refuse to let go of their weapons, and in truth, nearly force Okalani to return to the relative safety of the city.

The storm rages, wind whipping snow into a stinging, needling shower of cold missiles that drive at exposed skin, rip at loose hair and throw themselves mercilessly at any garment meant to protect from the extreme chill. Despite the strange, alien sight that has made its presence known up on the beach, the storm does not lessen. In fact, it seems to have intensified.

Winds whip and curl around the sand dunes while the waves threaten to leap further than is natural up the sands. Standing in calm contrast to the warriors leaping off the ship, Liolya only watches.

Whilst the stockier Empyrean-lookalikes might be charging in a mad, bloodthirsty rush, these bald, alien Atlanteans are calmer and more methodical. Each blinks as one. Each lifts a weapon as one. The effect can be... disconcerting.

And still, they come onwards. Izak and his Atlanteans are slower to reach the beach than their feathered counterparts, but nevertheless, they are drawing closer. The way they move speaks of a deep familiarity with the ice and snow.

Pulling her sword from its sheath, Caioma shouts an order to her men that's lost in the howl of the wind. Those closest may have heard her say to spread out and defend only, but those furthest out may only see her pulling her sword free and facing the invaders.

Walls of water rise from the ocean with staggering force and height -- nothing could be crafted like that naturally. The dark waters seem to hover above those on the beach and then slam to shore, catching a few Haven citizens who are not careful.

Strangled cries are heard through the water and wind and a few figures are seen floating as the unusual wave draws itself back out into the bay. Hands wave, screams of fear tear at the skies, begging for assistance. None come from the strange invaders, but a few brave Atlanteans dive into the waters to aid those who have not the ability to breathe underwater.

Still watching wordlessly from the back, a pillar in the storm, Katya swings her head around, ripping her frosty eyes away from Izak and those close to him towards Caioma, as if trying to pin up the halfbreed with her stare alone.

Artin glances toward the priestess, at some unspoken thought. His trident at the ready, he motions, and the Korallion guards prepare. To defend only. Though normally used to colder temperatures, even the Haven Atlanteans seem affected by this storm.

Is that a smirk upon curling upon the lips of that gigantic Varati? Geridan spreads his cloak back, throwing it wide behind him and revealing both armor and steel as he nods to Caioma and does as ordered, strafing around and spreading out, though with the incredible powers these people are showing, he's not exactly sure what good he is going to do.

By Khalid! Geridan nearly jumps at the wave, struggling to keep his self-control as he watches, shaking his head and drawing his own weapon. He's seen worse, he keeps reminding himself, he's seen worse.

That's all the invaders seem to see as well. In reaction, Svala hefts her axe high and shouts to the wind a wordless cry of defiance. She presses forward through the others that have gathered in front of her to take to the front of the stranger's line, taunting in tone with words guttural and unfamiliar. She meets boldly the eyes of those that are 'Hounds' nearest, looking upon them with open derision.

Thorvald lands with a heavy crunch onto the snow, the sound muffled and carried away by the howling wings. He notes the other winged warriors landing around him, and the advancing Atlanteans with a grim enjoyment; a deadly anticipation. He raises his axe high: a heavy, double-bladed monstrosity. Then, he slowly lowers it towards Haven's defenders. With an animalistic cry, the ruddy-winged man charges the Hounds, axe swinging in a lethal arc at any who dares to close.

Coming on the scene, after hearing curious reports and traveling fully from Atesh-Gah is a gleaming silver brigade of Messala warriors, led by none other than their own beastly-sized commander and Warlord, Sumai. His plated armor glimmers and reflects light much like the snow and the sea, intended to catch the attention of anyone nearby. An air of warmth hangs around him as easily as silks hang from most Varati women's shoulders, and his olive-brown eyes take in the crowded beach before him and the curious sights.

"Most curious," Sumai's deep voice murmurs to those of his nearby.

Cyrene draws up beside Liolya, presenting a face as uncaring as the storm. But as the waves lap forward, so do the snows. The wind shifts, driving away from those leaping off the boats, into the eyes of the Havenites, blinding bitterly anyone who might try to defend themselves from the onrushing strangers.

Off to one side, one mongrel with a sword is plucked from the sand, levitated in the air, and dropped soundly on his head into the raging sea. He does not resurface. Still, Cyrene's face is still as ice.

The golden-eyed woman slides further onto the beach, cutting through the thick, billowing sheets of snow as they try to consume her, yet the only effect of the snow is to give the woman an ethereal quality. Golden eyes, only those features are real on the woman who towers over much of the gathered and curious crowd.

Unimpeded by snow, or cold, or ice, the ashen-winged stranger runs toward the beach. And at his chieftain's signal, he releases a barbaric yalp from his lips. He swings the axe in his hand; making a broad circle from his waist.

The glittering edge propelled toward the midsection of a guardian woefully unprepared for his onslaught. The Hound's weapon is snapped in two. And Axel laughs as his blade tastes blood; not for the last time this day.

The sound of metal sliding from its sheath is lost in the howl of the winds, the crash of the water. Already, Jenner's boots are caked with frozen salt water, and the black-and-purple uniform is grey with snow. Sword drawn, he joins the wall of defenders, swaying with the stronger gusts of frozen wind.

Axel calls toward the dark-haired female, "First blood sister. Ha!"

Telepathically to Caioma: Katya's thought strikes as quickly and surprisingly as her eyes. No gentle building up of a mental contact, no touching or feeling of words of introduction, but a direct mental assault at your mind and thoughts. Like a ray of ice water, the Najada's focus tries to pierce through your mental defenses to rip from you the tactics and commands you have given to your warriors.

Despite the fact that the invaders have not still engaged any of the Hounds on the beach, Caioma suddenly staggers. Somehow keeping to her feet, the half-breed snarls and looks out through the snow towards the hairless Atlanteans that seem to be moving as one. Snarling, she rights herself and takes a step forward, meeting the oncoming charge.

Eyes glitter even in the shroud of the storm and Svala tosses a look over her shoulder at the man which shouted with a clearly jealous stare. She turns and screams, rushing the nearest knot of Hounds with a fiercely joyous expression writ on her face, axe held overhead and wings half-spread. She descends upon them, slashing wildly and laughing into the teeth of the storm.

Artin blinks, not from the snow or wind, but in complete and utter shock. He looks toward Okalani, eyes wide, as if disbelieving her words. Suddenly, the tenor of the Korallion forces change. Defense be damned, there is no reason to give the invaders a foothold on the beach.

Atlantean warriors surge forward, not in unison, but in a subtle choir, each wave playing its part cleanly as they move to engage the strangers.

Caleb seems uncertain as the weather worsen and the waves themselves move against those on the beach. He swallows, yet does as he is ordered. Moving outward from the other Hounds, he finds a spot and plants his feet there as best he can. Hands are already stiff with the cold, his lips a deep purple. His head is bent low as he tries to watch the ground instead of trying to see through the whipping snow. Perhaps he can spare some of his sight.

Sighing again, Caleb wonders if he will live, but at least with the battle he may warm himself. With a shrug, he breathes deeply and tries to calm his nerves as best he can. Readying himself, the Mongrel prepares to make his death an honorable one, should it come to that.

Sword is hefted quickly, a side step is executed, and the blade thrusts outward and down as Geridan's weight shifts and he pivots, parrying Svala's axe before rounding on her, keeping his side, at least, still facing the others. His lips pull in to a snarl and he actually growls at the woman, readying herself for her again. Damned defense.

Laughing at the jealous howl of the female, the ashen-winged Empyrean leaps forward toward another knot. His axe sings like a bard, clattering with swords, slicing through leather and staining the beach below with the blood of his opponents. Wings tucked in, like a shroud around his shoulders, Axel gives voice to a song of battle. Though the words are alien, the tone is clear; life is good!

Looking at his usual guardianship of five Varati warriors, the great Messala warlord shakes his head. "Look and see how uncoordinated their war efforts are? Does it not amaze you that they still exist on this world, or any? With such haphazard lines and structure," Sumai says in a chiding voice as he draws out his war axe from his back slowly.

"Fire on the invaders with your crossbows. One load, one assault and one guard. I'll be a guard," he explains to them in a neutral tone of voice as he, the general, takes up a place in front of the guardsmen of Messala who begin firing their heavy crossbows at the invading force.

The bald pillar as dark as the night sky strides easily through the water to the snow-covered beach. In fact, he isn't walking at all, but allowing a wave to carry him to shore, without any hindrance from the storm that rages around them. Dark feet grip the ice and snow and his eyes peer at the unusual crowd gathered, and then toward his fellow Najada warriors. Vladimir's hand circles over the snow and just as the water in the bay obeyed him, so does the snow.

Waves of white rise upward and slam into anyone counted among the enemy, especially any preparing to strike with weapons in hand.

The golden-eyed woman slides through the storm and ends up behind the wall of defenders which take the charge of the large, bloodthirsty arrivals. Before her, a Hound follows the stance of his Commander. He sets himself sturdily in the sands, and despite the howl of the winds, slaps in a bolt to his crossbow. And he looses the quarrel into the onrushing folk who look like Empyreans, yet, are somehow different.

As the Hound takes his action, cream-colored hands, seeming almost more appropriate on an Empyrean than a Varati raise up and brush the snow away from her veil. It is the jewels on those hands that proclaim the tall al'Samar woman as Nefer Maat.

Thorvald's wings spread and his legs force him aloft into the air for the briefest of moments, with the wind intensifying with his motion, almost. His axe whirls high above his head, then as he lands, comes crashing down towards Caioma's head, taking full advantage of the half-breed Hound's distraction. Thorvald doesn't enjoy the battle as some of his comrades do. To him, it's all business. And a very deadly business, indeed.

The parry only provokes a laugh from Svala, eyes sparkling. She turns and neatly lops off a nearby Hound's hand, sending blood flying and his weapon spinning into the crashing waves. Blood fountains forth, and having no mercy, she sticks a booted foot in the middle of his chest, tossing him back into a mate, still screaming before she turns to Geridan.

Svala strikes with ridiculous speed for such an indelicate weapon and sends the crescent blade whistling towards Geridan's head.

Hands are lifted up to fend of the icy particles of near-frozen rain which attempt to fall into eyes held wide open by pure shock and concentration when the Atlantean priestess focuses once again upon the minds of those who have come here to fight.

The raw emotions of pain, dread, fear and murderous intent are somehow ignored as she staggers but is steadied by the Caducean standing at her side, whose worried words are shattered by the wind.

The circle of warriors drawn around them begins to retreat, but is halted by the lifted hand of the Atlantean they've sworn to protect.

Black, alien eyes blink once and narrow. Lifting a web-fingered hand, the elder of the two bizarre women points towards the beach and the men readying crossbows. Nothing is said to the woman beside her, but there seems to be an understanding of sorts. The winds begin to howl angrier, carrying the sharp spike of ice in its touch.

Telepathically to: Izak Vladimir: Katya's thought brushes your mind, a call of warning. It singles out Sumai, the warlord giving commands, and her interpretation of the commands are clear: *His men are going to shoot at us.*

The world about Geridan fades away, drifting off in to oblivion as his eyes, crystalline and sharp, focus upon this woman, gripped by madness and bloodlust. With a twirl of the blade, under his hands and back over upright, he ducks, his steel meeting the crescent-shaped weapon and pushing it over and past his head from behind. When he rises, and the weapon has cleared, he then throws his free elbow at Svala's jaw.

The slice of one invader's axe, barely even meant for him, rebounds off the small shield that Jenner bears before him, gouging a corner of the shield away. The Hound staggers on the snow-soaked beach, and flicks out, almost blindly, with his sword. "Empyreans?" he mutters, audible only to any next to him, "Can't be rid of 'em, can I?"

Cyrene reaches out to the woman beside her, almost her twin in appearance, her wings now folded tightly to her back. A hand settles on Liolya's shoulder as Cyrene turns her attention back to the battle ahead. The bits of snow nearly freeze into pricks of ice, and she intensifies her sister's attentions on the crossbow men and their arrows -- bits of flimsy wood against the rage of a northern storm.

Before the axe can land on Caioma's unprotected head, one of the other Hounds lunges forward to give her warning and push his commander out of the way. The young Sylvan screams once as the axe connects with him instead, ending his life in a spray of blood that stains the snow and sand.

Caioma spins with her sword at the ready, a look of fury in her expression as she faces Thorvald and her downed Soldat.

An unusual thing begins to happen -- some of the Atlanteans who emerged from the waters as dark-skinned are slowly lightening, as if the color was drained from their skin. White warriors soon line the beach, almost indistinguishable against the backdrop of snow. Vladimir looks down at his hand and smiles, watching the color leave his skin and giving him added camouflage.

There is a blink from the unified, bald Atlanteans. Izak's eyes briefly stray towards Okalani, narrowing. As one, the contingent makes a sudden detour... They will meet these Korallion Atlanteans now, it seems, blades at the ready, steps even and unerring in the snow, ice, and sleet.

Izak lifts his free hand, and he beckons towards Artin. He will take on that one first, while the others fan out to engage whomever is closest.

Not one to stand by and watch as those he has grown to respect die, Caleb hefts his staff as best he can. With quiet acceptance of his fate, the Mongrel swings at the closest enemy. Not being able to see clearly or move as best he can, he does, however, use some sense. He swings his staff at the feet of Axel... then moves back, unsure yet if he even has a chance.

Telepathically to Okalani: Katya uses the chance as she spots your weakness for the moment. With a quick, direct hit of thought, she sends an emotion of anger and blood to both you and those men to protect you. The next image is a distortion of the scene that is actually happening here: A huge, angry man in blue, larger than life... winds and waves slash around him... He comes upon the city and tramples over it, burying those too weak to defend underneath his wrath.

Thorvald lands with a sickening crunch as his axe cleaves through steel, and hacks the young Hound's head in two. He follows through with the killing blow, then jerks back with a flare of his wings to free his weapon from his victim's torso. His axe swings out, curving around in an arc towards the Hound commander, Caioma. As blood splatters on Thorvald's face, then and only then does the huge winged man smile. It's a slight change of expression, a grim smile for the one he has killed, and the others he will yet this day.

Personal glory on his mind, laughter added to his song, Axel looks about for his next challenge. Where is one with the valor to meet him this day? Ah! There is one, one willing to challenge him. With a jibe in his own tongue, the Atlantean leaps above Caleb's staff, landing softly and swinging his axe in a wide, one-handed arc at the mongrel's shoulder level. Better duck, boy!

Katya remains steadfast by her ship, even if the men around her have all now charged into battle. Her blue eyes seem to carry forth the assault on its own, focusing on Caioma, then tilting over towards the protected priestess and her men, staring them down. The eye-contact remains only for a moment, until she returns her attention once again towards the main battle, also peering at a defender momentarily, then letting go of him once again.

That her attack was turned aside doesn't seem to bather Svala at all. She laughs again and simply pulls her head out of the way of that elbow, pivoting on one foot to drive her knee towards Geridan's more-than-fully-exposed-side even as she wheels her axe past her side and overhead again to prepare for the next slash.

Chaos swirls around the beach in the blood and ice of the winds that claim the beach. Caioma is an accomplished warrior, but she is a woman, and looks small when compared to some of these strange, foreign Empyrean women. Still, she will hold her own against Thorvald if it is at all within her power.

The halfbreed's sword comes up, braced to handle and block the blow from his axe, but as soon as she is able, she will use her speed to her advantage and try and dance out of his way to land an attack on his side. Looking up into his fierce, bearded face, Caioma shouts over the wind, "HALT THIS NOW!"

Seeing that his Commander is in danger, the Hound standing before Maat fires his latest quarrel toward the huge figure of Thorvald, who intends to take Caioma's life. Yet, the wind, and the snow play merry-cob with his aim and his weapon. The arrow flies from the Hound's crossbow, but its destination is soon hidden by the blasts of arctic snow.

Hearing the commotion from the docks, Sebastienne could not be expected to stay away from whatever is going on. So, trudging through the snow, wings trailing behind her, she runs onto the scene and gasps. Something stirs within her and her knees buckle. She can hardly take in all that she sees, but she stares forward and tries to get closer.

The knee connects with Geridan's side, but luckily, his plate provides him with some cushion; with a grunt, he stutter-steps backwards, hefting his blade and holding it across his chest at a slant, circling about Svala in a wide arc and waiting for her to make a move.

Another axe-swing is directed to Jenner, and the Hound again manages to raise his shield to meet the attack. Already brittle from the cold, the iron-bound wood shatters from the impact, driving Jenner down to his knees. The invader before him smiles, the winged figure raising his axe again to strike at the down Hound, only to howl as Jenner's sword slashes at his legs.

Telepathically to you and others: Okalani staggers both mentally and physically underneath the horror of thoughts sent and shared with her, but more than this is needed to battle her. A woman trained to forgive all, to send comfort and strength to the minds of those who've been violated or even those who've violated themselves, she's grown strong to deal with such attacks. The image of the blue man himself is one which confuses her, but in answer, the picture of the Goddess she serves appears in her own mind, her confidence that the Goddess of the Moon will watch over them gaining her more strength even when one of the men instructed to protect her lunges forward, only to die instantly.

More by luck than skill, does Caleb just miss losing his shoulder and life. Even as he stumbles back, the Mongrel can feel the axe cut into his coat. He regains his balance quickly enough, determined to give a good fight. With teeth clenched, he jabs the end of his staff at the Atlantean twice, then tries to bring the other end up... again trying to get the man on his feet. He will not give in so easily.

Svala's move is instantaneous. She whirls away from Geridan and takes a man through the shoulder as he comes up from behind, screaming as she cleaves him from neck to belly. The whirl continues as she spins further, spraying the white snow and sand with gobbets of gore and a fan-shaped stream of scarlet blood. Two steps towards Geridan, and that gleaming arc of blade is slashing low to high from the sands towards his groin with a whistling fit to rival the storm's scream.

A roar of laughter can be heard from the large, bear-like Empyrean that some would know as Bjorn, "Now this is more like it, eh Thor?" he asks in a merry, loud voice as he comes to his friend's side, swinging his axe heavily toward Caioma from the side. His dark wings spread and lifted for battle. Oh yes, he's enjoying this for sure!

Artin looks back toward Okalani again, then strides forward to assist his troops, unaccustomed to merely directing their movements still. A trident in one hand, a net in the other, he moves forward cautiously.

"Damn," Sumai says as the chill air foils his efforts at making effective use of his men's ranged expertise. "Belt the crossbows, draw and close to melee," Sumai says as he begins to spin his own axe in a huge, gauntlet-clad hand while his massive boots crush the snow. Curiously, snow around him melts as he moves, while the huge man exudes a wave of warmth wherever he steps, and his men and he form a wedge. His guards carry medium shields to block stray attacks coming from either side. Sumai and the Messala begin to advance towards the enemy's 'commanders.'

Telepathically to you and others: Okalani's thoughts fleet through the link maintained by someone of even greater a strength than hers, *Barbarians they believe us to be.*

Fabien hefts gladius and trident, and takes stock, dark eyes eyeing the mess of combat and picking out where he can be of most help. Since the arena, the beach seems to be the only place he fights any more: last time it was the sea-monster. That wild Empyrean-like woman fighting Geridan looks a fine target.

Telepathically to Okalani: Katya's touch grows a bit dimmer as she meets your mental strength, but the violence and aggression are still there. She modifies the form of the Moon Goddess you send her, shrinking her. The next process conveyed to you is that of the giant grasping after the weak, female goddess, taking her with force as a lover, declaring her as his own.

Now this is the type of battle young Leif has dreamed about! Grinning, his eyes bright, he swings his hammer, looking for a few heads to bash. If he can't find any heads, arms and legs will do nicely. As long as it's not anyone Najada or Aesir looking, they're fair game. Perhaps he'll work on some of those Hounds surrounding Thorvald as well.

Arrows fly this way and that, shorn off-target by the fierce and frigid winds whipped up by the pair of alien women near the beached ship. Another Hound is plucked away from his fight and tossed, spluttering, into the sea. The snow continues to drive blindingly, but even where it melts, it has the force of a hurricane behind it.

The end of Caleb's staff lands against the stomach of Axel, sending him back a step in the snow. But it does not deter the Aesir much. Another laugh and a taunt to the Mongrel. He carries through the arc of the axe, dropping the blade in low and swinging the weighted pommel at the youth against whom he is squared off.

Catching sight of the second warrior swinging on her, Caioma just barely ducks out of the way. While she might be able to hold her own against one of these monsters, two is going to be a trick that this half-breed Commander may not be up to taking. Eyes dark with fury, she swings a feint at Bjorn before trying to land a hit on Thorvald.

These new Atlanteans rise up in a crest to meet the Korallion guard. Against the tridents and armor, they have nothing save their daggers and the familiarity of working upon ice and snow. As the first engagement is begun, Izak's eyes harden. Then the second. Still that man, the leader of them, continues his unerring trek towards Artin.

Dark eyes peer out from a visage as pale as the snow. Vladimir watches the unusually bulky creatures in so much armor making an approach toward members of his 'group.' His hands rest again on the snow and a second wave rises upward, reaching toward the snowy heavens as it moves toward its intended target.

The wall of snow casts a darker shadow over some of the Messala warriors and then it crashes to the ground, burying some of the men in silver and blue in a pile of icy water and snow. Vladimir casts a quick glance to the Varati's intended targets. They had better appreciate that.

The young priestess staggers when her eyes meet those of Katya and she nearly sinks to her knees before the Sylvan female grabs her tightly around the waist and pulls her up. Steadying herself, Okalani glances briefly to the sky hidden by the storm before her aquamarine eyes seek out those of the weird Atlanteans who have come only to murder.

One of her guards jumps forward in protection, only to be killed by one of Izak's warriors whose mind is unseparated from those whom he fights alongside. The others around her part, half of them coming forward to meet the threat while others begin to pull the two Delphites back at the slow, easy pace which has become necessary in the bloody battle that has started out on this beach.

Geridan continues his backpedaling, jumping as the steel of the axe scrapes over his plate, sending sparks flying and leaving a healthy dent. He's had enough. Letting out a low growl, his blade flashes violently, swiftly, slicing first from left to right, low to high, then straight across right to left about shoulder level as he charges Svala.

Telepathically to Artin: Katya spots your mental aura as you head to protect Okalani. With a forced mental contact, she sends images of what lies ahead of you if you keep on the guard of the high priestess: Izak ripping you into pieces, shredding you open most brutally, letting your blood and entrails spill over the snow. Sure, it's mere scare tactics, but it's worth an attempt. *Why do you hang on to a weak goddess? True strength lies elsewhere.* The hammering thought is not as much a good advice, but a threat of your oncoming defeat.

Sebastienne is lost in a whirl of emotion. A strange darkness present over her. Her Haven is being attacked, her city... her friends. Then her eyes take in Geridan with horror. Voice soft at first, she calls out no, then louder, and louder until finally she is pushing through people to try and get closer. A scream rips from her throat, "Geridan!!" and her temper snaps. Gritting her teeth and balling her fists, she can do little more than scream for everyone to stop.

As the battle rages on, a faint glitter of metal can be seen in the sky. Landing quickly as they approach the fierce weather on the beach that makes flight utterly impossible, a dozen or so Praetorians take stock of the battle. Not approaching it yet, they stare in what can only be described as shock as they watch the barbaric Empyreans continue their bloody work on the beach.

Ack, damnable snow and water. Pah pah! These Varati come from high mountains where there is some snow, yes, but few of them ever get buried in it. Let alone a wave of it. All are suddenly immersed in the watery substance, much to their displeasure. Soon, though, it becomes evident that it will not hold them, as it begins to melt into watery form as Sumai starts to radiate warmth on a scale that would challenge a hot summer day for dominance within his immediate area.

Soon, the huge, seven-foot behemoth in his plated armor emerges from the top in a burst of cascading snow and glittering silver armor. He says nothing as thick legs -- as thick as some Empyrean torsos -- begin to plod forward with an inevitable cause. His soldiers surface more slowly and fight harder than their immense master.

Artin moves quickly and surely, stabbing forward at Izak's face with his trident. But even as he thrusts, he pauses, shaking his head as if to clear it, obviously distracted before he can steel his mind against it.

Telepathically to you and others: Izak's thoughts grow cold and distant, yet at the taste of the first kill, there is a wordless, soundless sense of victory. The Korallion guard was the first, and now who shall be next? Each soldier/warrior has his own orders, constantly renewed and shifting from the mind of the leader.

Leif finds what he assumes to be an easy target... a wingless one who seems to have only one working arm at his disposal. Jenner. Too bad. The hammer is raised to smash at the other arm. Easy stuff... his concerns were for nothing.

It's just what she wanted. As Geridan charges, Svala sidesteps, using the haft of the axe this time, to aim a vicious blow towards his temple.

Almost ignorant of the way the Aesir slash their way through the hands, Katya observes only the interplay between her group of Atlanteans, now completely white, hiding excellently in the snow, and the Korallion guards and Okalani. Chilly blue eyes wander away from Pasiphae's Priestess to focus upon her new sentinel, Artin.

Growling now, Caleb feels the pommel of the axe hit him even as he tries to bring his staff back in defense. He staggers back a few steps, then finds himself a little warmer now. He had not wanted to hurt the man... just stop him from hurting others. But now he wonders if that was ever possible. Kicking at the snow at his feet, the Mongrel charges the Empyrean creature, trying to use his limited skills as best he can. Although obviously clumsy with the weapon, the strength behind each attack helps to make up for what is lacking.

He swings with both ends of his staff now, trying not to give his opponent too much time to react as he moves forward... Toward a leg, toward the torso or arm... Caleb seeks to hit anything.

One of the Varati's number may be able to melt the snow and ice as it attacks their group of kshatri warriors, but can he stand up to two elementals continuing an assault? As Liolya stands beside Cyrene, she concentrates with a dispassionate gaze, adding fierce ice shards to the winds her sister whips into the combatants.

As a veteran of countless wars and skirmishes, Thorvald has seen feints before. He brings his weapon up to block Caioma's blade, locking it for a moment, and attempting to shove her back. He's distracted by something out of the corner of his eye, but the large bear-like Empyrean that came to his aid now plows into the small group of Hounds that came to their Commander's side, singing a cheerful combat song.

A massive form in black steps onto the beach and takes in the situation with hard jade eyes. With a sharp ring of steel, the powerful Agni-Haidar known as Jihaad draws his falcare free. Combat at long last. Stepping into the fray, he seeks out his first victim.

The blow sends Geridan sprawling to the snow-covered sands, his head shaking vigorously to clear the cobwebs and focus his vision. Instinctively, his blade slashes outward at Svala's feet, moving immediately from there to arc above his head and attempt to block whatever blow she might try to deliver.

The biting winds shift their focus, driving intently at Sumai and the warriors slogging after him. Melting the snow into water still leaves it icier than Cyrene's gaze, ebon and fathomless as the chasms in the northern seas. The water begins to freeze around the Messala warriors, causing a few to slips and others to be frozen in place. Ebon eyes narrow and the ice spreads.

Telepathically to you and others: Okalani's contempt is the only answer given to the mad woman who considers this the only way to deal with females who do not give in to pure strength. All her strength is ushered to revive the image of Pasiphae in all her glory, the darkness of her being standing out amid the radiant light cascading beneath her. Is this all they know? What pitiful creatures they must be, and for a moment her sorrow for those who know no other way is prevalent over the horror and defiance in battling this mental fight.

Easily shoved back by Thorvald's weight, Caioma uses that to her advantage rather than fight it. As he pushes, she'll dance backwards to try and off-balance him just as he did her. If she succeeds, her sword swings in to try and slice his side. If not, she'll still try a swing, but continue the dance and keep out of his way.

Maat does not, like many on the beach, participate in the combat. Instead, she appears quite content to stand behinds the defensive lines created by the Hounds. The male Hound, which had been before her, abandons his useless bow as the onslaught of snow and wind continue. He draws free his sword with difficulty and wades into the battle where might may be proved right.

Only half-arisen from his kneeling position, and already another of the invaders has stepped forward. No end. Too many. Leif's hammer comes speeding down, and Jenner barely manages to turn out of the blow's path, using a weak swing of his sword to push the attack past him. There's a price to be paid, though, and Jenner falls to the slush-encrusted sand again.

While two mages cannot increase the level of their magic, two powerful elementals working in tandem are a dangerous thing to face. While Cyrene directs the focus of their attack, Liolya continues to coldly add her own magic to her sister's. The ice that is carried on the wind is harsh and unpredictable, just as the waves that leap behind them, reaching angrily towards the shore.

That looks like Fabien's cue, moving in to allow Geridan to stand, for now content to evade and defend and Be A Target.

Svala leaps out of the way with a sweep of her wings, only to be taken by a blast of snow. She tumbles and rolls, axe held high over head until a good distance away before springing to her feet, again.

Yet another Korallion guard goes down, a wide, bloody slash across his throat leaking life's blood onto the snow. Yet all is not unfair in this battle, not completely. The webbing of directed thought between the Najada Atlanteans is damaged when one of their own goes down. Yet Izak is quick to mend it, at the same time easily dodging Artin's thrust at him. That, in turn, is countered by a balled-fist aimed for the man's gut.

No, they come too fast for him to emit enough heat to melt them all without burning his men badly, or even himself. The ice slashes against the silver surface of his shaped armor and shatters against its hardened surface, but the pure white tabard with the navy emblem of the Lion Rampant shreds under the assault. Sumai, himself, bares no flesh with his armor but the lips and eye slits. Those he protects with a thick, barbed panzerhand lifting to his face as his progress slows further, but mighty legs, thick and rife with the power over nearly a decade and a half of warfare bring him on.

War-axe in hand, the huge Messala forces his considerable weight into the effort of moving his huge feet as they crush snow, ice and sand beneath him. Sumai's lips peel back to make a grimace as nicks appear along them occasionally.

Thorvald doesn't seem at all bothered by the snow, ice, or wind: he revels in it, at home amid the chill and blood. His axe swings around in a wide arc, slightly behind and to the side of him, catching another Hound shoved his way by the throat, with the lower part of his recurved axe handle. The feral look on his face intensifies as he flings the screaming Hound directly into Caioma's path, and her blade.

Jihaad pushes his way through the battle-frenzied crowd, seeking an opponent. He catches a glimpse of Sumai and makes his way in his direction, tossing those in his path aside, "Imphadi, I fight with you! Let us show all that the Varati are not to be trifled with!"

With a peel of laughter at the charge and flurry of blows like the flurry of ice and snow surrounding the two, Axel parries with his axe, the staff clanging against the metal length of the handle. One blow makes it through, striking the side of his head. Were it not for his helmet, the blow might have given Caleb the victory. Shaking it off, Axel swings with the flat of the axe at his opponent's head, leaping backward at the same time; using his wings to hold him aloft for the seconds necessary to land the blow.

Artin grunts as Izak's fist lands, despite the armor. He can only hope it hurt Izak too. No longer distracted, he strikes without thought, trying to tangle his opponent's foot even as he kicks at the man's chest with an armored heel.

Pulling back her swing just in time to avoid hitting her own man, Caioma growls audibly and tries to press her attack against Thorvald. But with her own dying man between her and Thorvald, she's delayed and distracted.

Leif quickly brings the hammer down again, attempting another shatter to the arm, completely ignoring the wind and cold. Like Thorvald, he is familiar with it, even if he is not as used to the battle circumstances. This seems to be one of those times, though, that they teach about... make sure that your opponent is down before moving on.

Sebastienne finally breaks through to where Geridan was, where she saw him go down, scrambling, and using her sturdiness and agility to hopefully miss the constant swinging of weapons and fists. It's not too much unlike dodging Hounds and angry merchants after a theft.. except everything is much pointier. She moves past one group only to catch a spray of blood across her face, which causes her to gasp and shudder.

By the time she gets to where she saw Geridan, she finds that she has been pushed and pulled into the fray, and has no idea where Geridan is... Panic grips her now, and only as she goes to move does she finally realize that her wings are heavily trodden upon, nearly pinning her in place.

As his opponent disappears, Geridan quickly rises to his feet, one hand pressed against what's sure to be a nice-sized lump on his temple. Vision hasn't completely cleared yet, and the storm seems to roar in his mind, but his sword remains at the ready.

The Hound archer who has taken up his sword moves toward his Commander, striking at the foes that fill the path between him and the one he seeks to protect. With Hounds dying and spreading red ice over the sands, Maat moves farther back, towards surer footing on the beach.

The gale focuses itself even more relentlessly upon Sumai, as if it might freeze his eyes shut, leaving him unable to see. Jihaad and the other warriors receive a fair portion of this, getting frozen to the spot or thoroughly buffeted. But strong though the sisters are, they cannot maintain the storm and the assault... and through the lessening of the snow and wind a spire crowned with a crystal can be glimpsed....

Svala shakes her head to clear it and looks up into the clearing sky with widening eyes. She lifts her axe towards the center of Haven and the brilliant tower with its glowing crown against the grey whirl of snow. She shouts loudly in an unfamiliar guttural language, motioning to all of her kind nearby.

Followed by several of the strange Empyreans, Svala charges further up the beach towards Haven.

Okalani's blue eyes meet those of Katya once again before she looks aside, watching those who've come forward, sensing so many of them die. She doesn't falter yet, but only due to the strength of the Sylvan healer who is nearly cramping due to the almost overbearing pain sensed by her own magical senses.

The priestess battles with her mind against those who dare to hurt her. The Atlanteans gathered around her suddenly seem more... alert, as if strength has been offered to them of a kind different than that of physical prowess. So many of them die, so many more come forward.

Izak does not fight to show off, nor to even enjoy the glory of the battle-dance. He fights to kill. Efficiently. Once the blow to Artin's gut is delivered, the leader of the bald, violent Atlanteans is moving again. There is an eerie grace upon the snow and ice. The man leaps out of the way of the other's efforts to entangle his feet, landing with a solid crunch upon ice. His dagger he draws back, then lashes forward with unmistakable viciousness to make impact in any available tender spot.

A slight figure -- no more than a boy, really -- risks being blasted by the snow and ice as he bursts into the air from the boat and speeds down toward the fray. He's bearing an axe, though it looks puny for his youthful frame; nonetheless, Sven makes up for his lack of size with an all-out battle-cry, "Grrarraaaarrr!"

More Havenites are swept off their feet as the waves of snow pour into the ocean. The white Najada watches with a gaze as cold as the air as screams are cut off from suffocation. His eyes scan the surroundings quickly once he has had his fill of sending offerings to Vodyanoi, but he remains back from the main fray of the battle. Vladimir gives the two silent sisters a malevolent glance as the winds begin to die down, for how dare they cease their assault? But his mind is turned, sharply, toward the center of this strange city and the pristine tower that rises toward the heavens.

Svala says "Delphi! Look, it is the Delphi! Aesir! Forward!"

Once more, the fates hold to Jenner's defense as he blindly lifts his sword to the follow-through that he knows is coming. Leif's hammer strikes the blade, and the steel shatters. Shards of metal scatter in the sand, leaving Jenner with no more than two hands of blade and a jagged point. Coming once more to his knees, he thrusts the ragged half-blade forwards towards Leif.

Blood starts to flow from him as Caleb's head whips about. He catches the edge of the axe as he had again tried to back away after his attack. The snow proves to be a second enemy as he is more suited to the thick heat of another time. Gasping, the Mongrel falls to his knee and then tries to roll out of the way... struggling to gain his feet. He pushes up with his staff, using it to help him stand.

Thorvald grips his axe, swinging it about to discourage any of the other Hounds that may try to press him, snarling like a madman with just a few flecks of foam and blood on his lips. Then, the clouds break, and he stops. Delphi's spire suddenly catches his attention as Svala rushes towards it.

His eyes go wide in shock, then narrow. Thorvald echoes Svala's cry, bringing the head of his axe crashing onto the ice and snow beneath his feet. The wind picks up around him, blasting the frozen water in a wide arc into the eyes of the Hounds nearest him. Then, he flares his wings and races towards Delphi, followed by his countrymen.

Ah. Not so fast, Empyrean-lady-who-isn't. Fabien steps in Svala's way, trident in one hand, gladius in the other. "Fabien think not." Poised, ready to move on way or another.

Katya's face twitches in pain as the gaze of the high priestess meets hers. No sound accompanies her silent cry, but soon her long, silver hair covers up her twisted grimace. Finally, an un-feminine snarl escapes her as her muscles tense up. With a sure stride, he follows, to fall in place with Izak and his warriors, her attention averting from Okalani and giving it to the bald warrior.

Jihaad bows his cowled head against the icy onslaught. His powerful legs keep him standing as he pushes his way towards the assailants. Shards of ice tear at flesh and clothing alike. The giant Lion of Fire seems unfazed as his goal is to reach the sisters.

The Korallion guards have the advantage of arms and armor, yet they are barely able to hold their own. The same can be said for their commander. Coming nowhere close to touching the strange Atlantean so far, Artin concentrates upon defense, obviously outmatched. His net rises to tangle Izak's arm, too slowly, the long blade sliding in at an unprotected place on the inside of Artin's guard. Pain, blood, nothing else matters, and he strikes out with he butt of his trident, swinging upward at Izak's groin.

Teeth bared at the sudden barrier to her passage, Svala growls even as others rush past her. She draws herself up and then whips out with a solid kick of her heavy-booted foot towards the annoying 'wall' in her way.

Hearing the cry of Svala and Thorvald, the ashen-winged Empyrean looks toward the tower. The tower! "Delphi!" Glancing at his weakened opponent, Axel calls, "The Fates smile upon you lad." His heavy foot lashes out to kick Caleb away and his wings beat, carrying him aloft and toward the tower in massive leaps only a winged Empyrean could match.

With her opponent moving forward an away, Caioma is prevented from following as she's faced with another of the barbaric men swinging his axe at her. Growling yet again, she focuses her fury on him this time, fighting ferociously.

The storm lessens even more as Cyrene's eyes widen. Jihaad is making slow but steady progress in their direction, although he must surely have frostbite by now. The winds ease and whip about her and her sister, lifting both off the ground slowly until they levitate close together, just out of reach of the battle below. Calling in the same guttural language as the Aesir, she points to the Tower, and she and Liolya begin floating that way.

What a child. Izak could almost sneer at his supposed 'opponent', were his mind already not occupied with the thoughts of about a dozen others. Easily, he dodges the trident's shaft, leg swinging around to give a kick to Artin's head. It is then that the thoughts of Delphi run like a current through the minds of his men.

As one, the bald Atlanteans seem to shift gears. They kill as quickly as possible, their steps unerringly turning to the White Tower.

Telepathically to you and others: Okalani's thoughts grow colder as does her determination when she helps all others around her who are plagued by the vicious attacks of the mysterious aliens. Soon, her actions change, and within her mind comes the resolution of someone who has decided things have gone far enough -- now it is time for her to use her mental prowess. All of a sudden, her power is placed upon the Aetherism of telepathy as she begins to tear those ties apart which link the minds of the alien Atlanteans.

Sven touches down somewhere on the beach, his almond-colored wings bunching up against his back and ruffled to make him look more formidable. But Svala's and Thorvald's words distract his attention from thoughts of battle -- at least momentarily -- and he stares toward the gleaming citadel visible at the heart of the city. As his kinsmen start moving gradually in that direction, so does he, axe gripped in one fist so that he might cut down any who stand in his way (or try).

Sebastienne screams and grunts now, using fists to push and pound on whoever is near her in hopes of getting her wings free. Her cheeks are smeared with the blood of others, as are her wings and her clothes. She is panting heavily and making very little progress, and, mustering up all her force, she punches into the back of someone and screams, "Move!"

As the Aesir and Rusalka begin moving up the beach, Maat moves aside, allowing the snow and wind to hide her from view. Yet, she keeps pace with the burly weapon-wielders, as if interested in their destination and purpose.

Looking up at the shout, Leif doesn't bring his hammer down in time to counter the jagged remnant of the blade. It slashes at his thigh, but the well of blood is met with only a snarl and a wider swing of the hammer. Then, brown wings quivering with adrenaline, he leaves the fallen Jenner to follow his comrades towards the gleaming Tower.

Telepathically to you and others: Vladimir seems furious as the Aesir appear to be leaving, abandoning the Najada for some tower in the distance. *We cannot let them leave, they cannot have the treasure of this city for themselves!*

The big ex-gladiator shouldn't be that quick. A twist aside and Svala's boot just grazes his hip -- hrm. She shouldn't be that quick, either. He jabs at her eyes with the trident, as much a test of courage, self-control, as anything, circling as he does so, teeth bared.

Jihaad swings his blade at the levitating sisters, hoping to inflict damage. The falcare cuts through the frosty air, hitting nothing. As they gain altitude, he curses them.

Geridan throws himself at the nearest opponent, steel flashing and colliding with steel as he presses the man backward, hacking, slashing at the wooden handle and the opponent's fingers in an attempt to keep him occupied and on the defensive. A swing comes through the barrage however, again scraping against the plate of the Varati, even making a light split in the metal, but he reacts quickly, sword moving around his adversary's axe and thrusting home in to his chest.

Withdrawing the now blood-smeared weapon from its fleshy sheath, Geridan turns and presses onward.

Artin's head snaps back with the force of the blow, body slowly falling as the kick lifts Artin off his feet and deposits him face-first into the snow, weapons flying from loosened hands. Nearly simultaneously, a force of the Korallion guards are overwhelmed, a breach allowing the invaders to get beyond the beach.

Caleb grunts as he is kicked out of the way like some starving dog that has gotten too close. He rolls in the snow, groaning. By time the finally gets to his feet once more, he is defending himself against others, even as his first opponent has run off. Shaking with anger, he swallows the blood in his mouth and tries to find the one that has done this. Nowhere to be seen, he seeks out others, then, trying to help his comrades.

Dispassionate and alien eyes look down on Jihaad as Liolya is lifted up with her sister's magic. Translucent and delicate wings hang limp, rippling in the wind only slightly. Ice leaps up out of the ocean to grab at Jihaad and try and drag him in, even as the wind carries the sisters further aloft.

Annoyance dissolves at the show of real resistance, and the sparkle returns to Svala's eyes, wild and uncaring for her own skin. She lashes out towards the trident with her axe, making no move to avoid its point in the trust that it will be crushed aside by her own violent blow.

Sven swings his axe with more enthusiasm than skill as he starts to wade into the fray, but he doesn't actually hit anything. Or anyone. Using his wings as much as his legs, he leaps into the air again, hop-flying his way along the beach. Yet, somehow amid the chaos, his keen gaze spots Svala, and the boy abruptly changes direction; moving not toward Delphi, but toward her.

Winds continue to whip about, albeit with noticeably less force as most of Cyrene's energy and magic is directed at keeping her and her sister aloft as they float over everyone's head towards the Tower.

As the winds lessen, Sumai's legs begin to plod more quickly once again -- unlike the others, he has the ability to heat himself and, to a smaller degree, his men, so as to protect them from the frigid temperatures that had been buffeting them. Soon, however, he brings all his heat to an internal boil for just a moment, and with an orange-red flash of his once olive-brown eyes, the greatly oversized Master of Messala releases the heat in the face of one of the sisters. He can't tell them apart, so he chooses whichever one looks taller.

"Damn you and your cold," comes his deep, baritone voice as it rumbles free from Sumai's cavernous chest.

The trident was never meant to hit. But that axe has momentum when swung like that. Momentum enough for Fabien to duck low as it sweeps his trident aside, and he jabs savagely up with the short gladius in his other hand.

As the man swings on her again, Caioma parries and then attacks. Her skill is greater than her young opponent's and she lands a fierce hit that wounds his side and causes blood to well up on his leg and start staining the already impure snow. He falls to the ground with an agonized cry. Rather than finishing him off, though, she watches for a moment to make sure he is down and then moves towards another opponent.

His opponent moved on, sword and shield useless, Jenner still tries... and manages... to return to his feet. His left arm hangs uselessly at his side, but he pulls a dagger from his belt with his right. What remains?

Another knot of defenders, more blood for Axel's blade. Overhead swings curve into cross-body blows and more Hounds are left strewn in his wake. His eyes widen, as does his smile, when he spies Sven. But the momentary lack of concentration earns an opponent an opening, and crimson sprouts from Axel's arm. Another overhead blow, two-handed, and that defender's skull is split open and crushed. Who's next?

Sebastienne thrusts herself forward, only to fall to her knees as, again, her wings are stepped on. A bad place to be... until she spots a fallen weapon. Picking up the short-sword, she grips it tightly and turns to slash at the legs around her, screaming and growling. "Go away... get away from my Haven... get away!"

The sword manages to slash over some legs before people realize there is someone at their knees. The only trouble is... that Sebastienne doesn't know who she's hitting.

Thorvald hears the cry of Caioma's young victim, and his face contorts into a rage saved for one who injures one of his family. He flares his wings, banking around in mid-jump, turning back towards the beach. Flashing eyes narrow on Caioma, and the young man at her feet. Winds howl dangerously around him as he plummets towards her like a bolt of lightning, blending with his own savage war-cry. The blood of others on his face mingles with his own as he bites his lower lip, tasting his own blood to feed his wrath.

Telepathically to: Vladimir Izak Okalani: Katya tries to hold on to the visions of her own god, but her own strength falters. Getting pushed back by the stronger faith of the high priestess, her telepathic powers wane in this instant, distorting any communication and support she offers to the other warriors, until it is nearly completely faded.

The Hound archer that was rushing to Caioma's side is taken down from behind as Sebastienne's wild swings with the shortsword slash his calves. Not yet incapacitated, the Hound is now at the mercy of the Aesir who fight like demons about the Hound Commander.

Svala gasps and grunts as the gladius slams into her side. Bearskin cleaves on its edge, revealing what no Haven Empyrean would wear and still fly -- heavy chain mail. The blow rocks her back a step or two and provokes a loud, startled and almost joyous cry. "*** Othin!" She opens her arms, looking down at the slash and then back at the Varati with a positively fierce and wicked grin, springing to the attack again. Her axe whistles down from above in a blow meant to crash through any guard and split the opponent from nose to navel.

With a powerful flap of his wings, Leif skims across the sand to join his Chieftain, moving out of the way as the older Aesir darts aside. Well, he'll work on whoever is around them, whoever is trying to stop them from heading to the tower. The grin still hasn't left him as it is not often that dreamed-of glories come true.

Messala forces tighten around the form of one young man, his deft arms wielding dual blades, arcing wildly about him in the fray. Hacking and slashing, the blades curve toward Aesir flesh, the twin blades steaming in the cold as fire is channeled into the metal. Keegan's eyes remain narrowed and focused upon his opponents.

Jihaad shivers violently in the frigid winter air. Rivulets of blood streak his visage from numerous cuts. Frost clings to his hair and clothing. Yet he holds his wicked blade defensively, ready to face off against any foolish enough to stray too close.

Hearing Thorvald, Caioma swings to face him as he advances. Rather than rushing forward to meet his fury and force, she holds steady, though, ready to fight or ready to retreat should his attack call for either.

As Geridan hacks through the flesh of another opponent, his breath coming and leaving in heavy, tired gasps, a scream catches his ear even through the storm -- a scream he would know anywhere, be able to pick out through anything. Tienne... Despite the numerous wounds that now shed blood over his person and armor, the Varati charges onward in the direction of the cry, steel flashing at anything and anyone that stands in his way.

Something... odd ... happens among the alien Atlanteans. One moment they are working as one, and the next... they are not. Confusion is a brief, telepathic murmur, and Izak himself is distracted. So much so that he leaves Artin without striking the killing blow. His men, however, are soon to take up their own 'mind,' left with no choice but to leave their leader out of it.

Eyes glitter as they alight upon the beacon of the White Tower, then they land upon Okalani. Yet Izak leaves her for now... something else is more important. Something else must be gained. His voice is used now, an alien cry directed to his men. It is all he can do to direct them now. But even so, he is moving forwards. Towards the inner depths of Haven. Towards Delphi.

More and more warriors of both Haven and Korallion attire have come forward and grouped themselves around the High Priestess, who is looking straight at the two leaders of the alien Atlanteans. First, Okalani's gaze is upon the torturous mind of Katya before a small smile of grim satisfaction can be sensed and she turns her gaze away and focuses all her attention upon the one fighting with Artin. Izak is both easier and more difficult to block, for while he may be distracted, the strength between dozen telepaths combined is difficult to shatter, especially when tied to someone of such strength.

Fabien grins back, teeth white in a dark-skinned face, at Svala, just barely sidestepping the axe and following it down with the trident, in an attempt to pin the heavy weapon to the ground. "Fabien think you too good for him." He's breathing hard.

Caleb uses his staff to down a few of those he can and then wipes the blood from his eyes. It flows freely now, his head starting to grow light. Shaking it off, he tries to see why the fighting seems to have lightened some, and starts to follow. As he moves toward Haven along with the strangers, he tries to fell as many as possible.

Thorvald repeats his earlier tactic of descending with an over-head axe blow as he plummets, but this time, he changes his swing in mid-air. Just before he lands, the red-winged Empyrean flares his wings, braking hard and short of his obvious landing point, and changes the overhead swing into a deadly, crushing side-blow, aimed at shearing Caioma in two.

"Svala!" That is the only intelligible word that the youth cries -- the youth being Sven. He'd hopped up into the air again, almond-colored wings flapping hard, and now he descends toward Svala and her opponent, Fabien, his axe raised. There goes that battle-cry again -- it would help if his voice didn't crack in the middle of it.

Blocking the abruptly-changed blow, Caioma prevents Thorvald from cleaving her in two, but the blow still knocks the wind from her and sends her careening to the ground. Having deflected the blow only enough to cause it to bash rather than cut, she still catches her arm on the edge of the blade, causing a steady bleeding. The woman also likely has a few broken ribs.

Keegan and three bodyguards seem to turn like a wheel of blades, dancing in and out of battle formations in a tight star shape, cleaving Aesir in their wake, and taking minor cuts and bruises in retaliation. Orders are voiced audibly above the fray, and the small Messala contingent digs itself in, bathing themselves in the blood of their enemies.

Svala meets the dark man's eyes as she lets her axe be dragged to the ground, stepping over its head with haft still in hand. In a conversational tone she speaks, "It's a pity I must kill you. I'd much rather have a warm man like you in the furs..." Her booted foot lashes out toward Fabien's middle, leaving her unsuspecting in the path of Sven's descent.

Katya's face is still pained, her shoulders drooped as she falls into the stride between the warriors around Izak. While having fought no physical battle, hope has apparently lost her body, frustration visible in every motion. Dodging any melee combat out of the way, she slides over the fallen bodies to the side of Izak, following him towards the center of Haven.

Jenner stands again, only a long dagger in his single good arm. The invaders seem to be moved away, past, through the shattered wall of defenders towards... Delphi? In any case, they seem to be moving from the beach, to Haven.

The wounded Hound archer is dispatched when the glittering, curved blade of Axel cleaves his head from his body in a single swift blow. Much as Sebastienne's wild flailing wounded him. The first stern words he's spoken in the chaos of the melee are directed at the youth. "Sven, it is her battle. Interfere not." Though his shout may be lost in the wind and too late to do much good.

Most of the Hounds that are left standing are blinking in the wake of the storm that just hit the beach. A few rush on after the invaders who now move towards the streets of Haven, but many are still trying to regain their ground. While there are some of the invaders dead on the ground, it seems the Hounds took the worst end of the deal.

Telepathically to you and others: Okalani's triumph is the last thing echoed through the remains of the fading link which bound their three minds together.

Sebastienne watches the man in front of her go down and is wide-eyed to see that it is a Haven-clad warrior. She turns, frenzied panic taking over and she pushes herself up now as wings are freed. The sword is not released, but instead used to hack and slash pathetically at anyone with oddly colored wings, or anyone in her way. Blind rage can do that. She doesn't see Geridan, or hear him coming, and her swings dance from side to side, front to back and all over.

There is a blast of horns, sounding delicate rather than righteous in the blast of snow and storm. The Praetorians, their lines ragged, fall back to form smaller but more disciplined defensive line farther back in the city.

Two Acii take alight on the buildings, using the spines of the roofs as fortification. Another support Acius has arrived from the Palladium and begins to re-supply them with crossbow bolts. Then, for just a minute, the onslaught of winter eases up. Like a snake pulling back its head. Then it coils back, blasting out from the direction of the city, counter to the sea and all its power. It is a wall of sharp, hard white through which any fighting to reach the Citadel must find their way. For the moment, at any rate.

Leif's grin only widens as four dark, wingless ones are in his path. Not a good idea. With a grunt, the hammer is swung at the closest blade... any blade. They all look alike to him... too thin to withstand the heavy battle-hammer.

Even without the hive-mind to guide, Izak is a force to be reckoned with. Not sensing that Katya is now by his side, he almost strikes out at her. A grim press of his lips, and he stops well before a hit could be landed. He instead reaches out to her, yanking her closer to protect her from any straying blows. Guttural words are directed to her, before he looks back to his men. They can handle themselves. They were trained to do so, even without his guidance.

One last look at Okalani is taken. Revenge is a silent promise in Izak's eyes.

Running as fast as his legs can carry him, one hand putting pressure on a wound in his thigh, Geridan sheathes his blade and charges, swooping down on Tienne from behind and hauling her in to his arms, trying to run past Axel before he knows what happened, a roaring growl coming from deep within his throat the whole time.

Izak whispers to Katya, "Stay close. And out of the way."

A few staggering steps become a run across the blood-soaked frozen sand, and Jenner throws himself, dagger extended, towards the small knot of invaders and Havenites. He half-lands, half-collides with Sven, and brings the dagger down viciously.

The kick catches Fabien's thigh as he lunges forward with the gladius, spinning him aside. The convulsive clutch on the trident frees Svala's axe as he rolls, turning a stumble into a deliberate shoulder-roll that brings him back to his feet a couple of yards past Svala, evidently favoring one leg, and out of the way of the downward arc of Sven's axe.

Keegan's contingent is aware of their assailant, and with amazing grace and tight formation, they spin like dervishes, ducking when necessary, and dropping their blades lower than any hammer to swing at the knees. Fire is channeled through Keegan's blade, enough to sear flesh, and carve its way through tendons with ease.

Thorvald continues his swing, axe-head flashing in a wide circle around his landing point. It's meant to clear any defenders around him away, rather than connect, though if any are foolish to get in the way of the swing, they'll be dead men. Thorvald then quickly hooks his flashing axe on his belt, kneels to pick up his wounded kinsman, and spreads his wings once more. Strong legs propel him into flight, the wind whipping up around him in aid.

The red-winged Aesir carries his charge into the air, leaping back towards the boat with a look of gravest concern on his face, battle forgotten.

Telepathically to all the area: Okalani's triumph can be sensed throughout the battle-field when she lets go of the reins normally placed upon her mind, and for a brief moment, all who are upon the beach defending the city of Haven have the sensation of hope, that these strange barbarian attackers can be defeated.

Within seconds, the priestess retains control of her thoughts once more, leaving those with just a memory of glorious hope.

Sven had his axe raised as he sped down out of the icy sky toward Svala and Fabien, but Jenner's bulk suddenly intercedes, and the youth lets out an "Ooof!" as he falls solidly toward the ground in a tangle of wings and limbs. He swings wildly with his axe, but it's a wonder he doesn't chop his own leg off. It'd be an even bigger wonder if he managed to hit his enemy.

As the winds carry her aloft, Liolya suddenly flinches and makes a small sound of pain. Immediately, though, there's a glistening to her skin and a chill in the air around her. Dark eyes scan the beach and a gigantic wave rushes forth from the sea, up the beach and towards Sumai.

Vladimir rises, preparing to make a run through the snowdrifts, mostly unseen in his current state, but he finds the unexpected wall of wind and snow slamming into him much like his own magic had affected those of this city. He curses in a strange dialect and goes tumbling down the beach into the water.

He lifts his head from the icy waters and peers angrily across the beach for one who would cause such a force. The water froths angrily again, all around him churning until it is as white as the snow. Vladimir calls to the water, silently, and lifts another wave from the ocean and sends it toward the onlookers and warriors, not caring who he takes out.

The wave hangs heavy over the beach and once more the pillar of water crashes to earth. Combatants, standing and fallen, fill the beach among icy blotches of red.

Combatants all in a physical or mental sense, except for the golden-eyed woman who watches, yet does not participate.

To much of Logi in him, Axel cannot resist. Spotting Geridan dashing away with the hysterical woman, he changes grips on his axe, swinging the handle low with the intent of tripping the one who fought his sister. In his guttural tone, he calls out toward the pair, "Women such as her are good only for bedding, not for battle! Ha!" Wings flex in anticipation of flight.

Battle orders are relayed amongst the Praetorians. A line of them comes over the spines of the roofs which they are using for covers -- they have shields and no ranged weapons. They also do not have wings: they are Mongrel Velites. They clamber down almost to the eaves and hunker behind tall square shields, bracing themselves not against gravity, but against the howling wind that seeks to catch them up like kites and hurl them into the air.

Another line hopes over the defenders at the spine: these ones are winged, without shields, carrying crossbows. They form a line behind the shields. A third line of crossbow men appears, arraying itself staggered behind the second. Good thing these warehouse roofs are made to withstand the sea coast's punishing weather. "Ready crossbows!"

Where is some of that storm when you need it? Leif takes a step back at the sight of the flaming sword, but the grin is quick to return. Ducking low, he scoops up a large handful of wet snow which is thrown at the blade. Whether it hits the blade or the wielder... makes no difference. Either works. Following through with the throw is another swing of the hammer, aiming to shatter the flame-bearing blade.

Unaware of the tangle of arms and legs that just whirled past, Svala watches Fabien roll away and for a moment pauses, running her tongue over her lips slowly, eyes roving over Fabien's form with a speculative expression. Then she laughs again and darts forward with her axe whirling in a low, dangerous arc before her. She spins once as she nears Fabien, axe whirling around and then whistling above her head and down once more.

Cyrene glances at her sister in concern, but does not alter her flight path, taking them right towards the Tower. The winds that seeks to hold those surging forward back are buffeted and met with an equal force, chill, biting, and relentless.

Sven is bulkier than an Empyrean. But he is still winged, close enough for Jenner who has fought with Empyreans before. Too entangled to bring even his dagger into play, the mongrel reaches for Sven's wings with his good hand -- and pulls.

As if snow, ice, storms weren't enough. Battle here in Haven. It is enough to lure a Varati merchant to the scene, crouching down at the far edges of the beach, shielding his face with his cloak. Hafeez has to squint his eyes, hardly able to see, and what he sees he hardly counts for real.

Steel meets hammer in a dull clang, and the red-hot sword is dented severely, only the heat and malleability of the metal keeping it together. It is abandoned in the fight as Keegan's left hand deftly reaches to his belt to grab a throwing dagger, which is hurled at Leif without hesitation. His three guards continue to hack and slice at approaching Aesir, one being slashed upon the arm, blood flowing through his armor.

As Sebastienne is tackled, she squeals out in horror and uses all her adrenaline and strength to roll to her side. Without even looking, and as the big Varati comes down, she thrusts the sword out and grins sickishly as it slurps through the flesh of the man upon her. The blade goes in deep, sticking out the back of the man's shoulder and pooling blood on them both.

She is trapped beneath the man now, and only after a moment does her rage clear enough to realize it was Geridan. With a scream so intense it could rattle the din of war, Sebastienne drops the sword and covers her face, fingers going in to her ears. "Noooo! It happened... damn the curse, damn it all!! It happened, I told you, Geridan... I told you I saw this... I told you!!! Why wouldn't you listen to me!!" Hysterics grip the girl as she lies beneath the man, sword rooted in his shoulder.

Katya lets herself be easily nabbed and pushed around by the icy bald man. Even as his blade strikes towards her, there's no fear in her expression. While she has let herself go just a moment ago, now the woman pulls herself together once again, her motions precise, her gaze acute. A quick estimation of the battle and the tolls taken is given, before Okalani receives another silent stare, vengeance and determination lighting up in Katya's eyes as much as in Izak's.

The trip is successful and Geridan plummets to the earth with Tienne in his arms, steel piercing his flesh, forcing its way in and through his right shoulder, blood immediately soaking both clothing and earth. Adrenaline and madness numb the pain however, and the Varati rolls off the Empyrean, ignoring or not hearing her cries and paying little to no mind of the weapon that has impaled him. The roll lifts him to his feet and with glazed-over, crystalline eyes, flaring viciously with an inner fire, he screams and throws himself at Axel, only his left, gloved hand holding to it as he thrusts. The girl is not forgotten though, oh no. This is for her.

"OOooooowwwww! You filthy, rotten son of a whore! Swine! Get off my wing or taste my axe!" The spew of words, unintelligible to all but his clansmen (and thankfully so) comes from Sven, and he starts kicking and screaming bloody murder as he struggles to get free of Jenner's grip on his wing. Unfortunately, he's too tangled up himself to be much danger with that axe; it's the blunt end that strikes randomly toward his 'captor.'

"Fabien think..." Ushas, but that was close. Close enough the trident is sacrificed in a glancing parry as he sidesteps, teeth bared in a feral grin at his escape. "... you too predictable." The useless haft of the trident is thrown at Svala, the ex-gladiator dropping into a crouch, still favoring one leg, circling with the gladius held ready. Wonder if she'll notice it's the wrong leg.

Moving to engage the other three Varati, Keegan's knife skims him across the back, but doesn't make it through the armor. Instead, it stays there, stuck while Leif continues to attack, bashing at the already wounded one before ducking and trying to slam the hammer into another one's knees.

As the two bizarre looking sisters fly further towards Delphi, Liolya's dispassionate black eyes note the Praetorians upon the rooftops. While Cyrene focuses on keeping the two of them aloft, she takes her magic and viciously sends it towards the Servitors and Velites. Roofs already heavy with snow and ice are assaulted by more of the same as the wind is ripped into her control. While her control of the weather is not that great, the ice shards she adds to the assault are vicious.

Svala bats the haft from the air with an almost negligent sweep of her hand and then laughs again, favoring Fabien with the brightest of smiles and a salute with her axe. And then she bolts up the beach along the cleared path, feet kicking up a mix of sand, snow and blood.

As Leif bashes at Keegan's wounded companion, the strength of Varati will is bared, and the man headbutts violently. His companion jumps as a hammer is swung at his knees, and Keegan aims a flaming punch straight at Leif's head. Fury burns like a flame in his eyes, and his God and King calls for death. "For the Amir-al!" he calls as the quartet spins, though slightly off with injury.

They are leaving, the threat upon the beach seems to be over for now, or more likely: exchanged for the more realistic treat for the Citadel itself. Danalin's features have paled from the combination of cold air and snow and the merciless attacks upon her sensitive nerves. The Healer sways as if she could sink through her knees any moment now, but refuses to let go of the priestess whose willpower is not enough to leave her standing now that she is the target of vengeance from those soulless creatures. The Caducean tries to say something, and those few warriors still left on their feet group around Okalani, looking at the many wounds left behind.

The arch-magus shakes her head, "No, the Mystai are prepared to break their hive, but I must follow them." Okalani's gaze rests upon the two tormentors. "You remain here and tend to the wounded." And it is with reluctance that the Sylvan remains behind alongside some of the others.

A step to the side, to avoid the sword. And his axe flares again in an arc, aimed not at the man but at his blade. A blow intended to break the weapon and nothing else. It is accompanied by a kick, made possible only by a wing-assisted leap. Whether the blows land or not, Axel is gone. The leap arcing upward and carrying him away, toward the tower of Delphi.

Fabien gives chase, with an inarticulate roar.

(Continued in the next log, titled, Storming the Citadel)  

[ Home | News | Staff | Players | Links | Gallery | Logs | Library | Updates | Mail ]
[ Connect to the Game ]