5057/TRIAL: The Bowl of Embers (Hard)

TRIAL: The Bowl of Embers (Hard)
Date of Scene:	28 January 2017
Location:	Bowl of Embers, Thanalan
Synopsis:	The party finds themselves face to face with the Primal Ifrit, and takes down another threat to Eorzea.
Cast of Characters:	N'raha Tia, 573, 1081, Athela Valemore, William Pauwel, 774, 750

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N'raha Tia has posed:
    ABOARD THE ALLIANCE AIRSHIP GOLDEN DUCAT

    There's some general consternation from the crew and soldiers on board the airship tonight, as they make their way towards the Amalj'aa stronghold of Zahar'ak. The ship's been fitted with dark netting to help disguise the large air envelopes keeping her aloft, but there's still a worry that a sharp-eyed scout is going to spot them and ruin everything.
    Raubahn is not here himself, but his voice crackles over linkpearls as the ship closes in towards its target. <I can only promise getting you in, but I'm sure you lot will be able to figure a way back out. Good luck, and good hunting.> Several Flame Sergeants are giving final orders to their men as they make ready for their aerial insertion.

    And Raha waits and paces like a caged panther. His tail swishes through the hole in his armor, his ears flick back and forth as he holds that helmet painted in the colors of the No-Name, and his axe rests heavy at his side. Not long now.

    That's punctuated by the captain of the ship motioning in the quiet of the night. One minute to drop. Make ready, you lot.

Mihk Lihzeh (573) has posed:
    Mihk is reading her tome, and idly petting a small blue creature sat beside her on a bench. The pair might look out of place amongst armoured warriors, but the robed mage seems to be right at home. "I shall support our efforts with what magicks I can." she says, as the captain calls the time to drop. "I am otherwise rather weak in direct combat, so I would ask that others be able to assist and cover me while I cast." She is otherwise silent on matters otherwise.

Celes Chere (1081) has posed:
    Celes stands to the side of the deck, wherever she can get the best view by looking over the railing. This isn't the Falcon or the Blackjack, but it's still very impressive. Making airships more common on her world hasn't been going too well due to other concerns keeping people busy, but she'll have to think about asking the Flame General how open-source the technology is.

    When they reach their destination, or just about, Celes finally steps away from the edge of the ship, unsheathing Save the Queen and raising it high as it flashes a bright white and blue. White Magic floods the air, granting the Float status to the whole crew. It won't let them -fly- but it'll let them gently hover down without the need for a visible parachute to target.

    People who want to handle their own descent or landing can ignore the spell if they'd like. Float isn't a replacement for those methods, most likely.

    "I'll keep you covered," Celes says towards Mihk, at least throwing her name into that hat. She isn't going to mind if other people beat her to it, but she IS a knight, after all.

Athela Valemore has posed:
Athela Valemore is making a point of -not- pacing. There's enough pacing going on with others. Instead she's standing at a railing at the ready, focusing on the daunting task that lies ahead of them. Occassionally a breeze from the movement of the airship ruffles through her cloak and lengths of red hair, but otherwise she's remained quiet and still.

This is not my world, and yet here I am fighting for it.

Sea or Land, the World matters not. Justice strikes down all Evil where it lies.

But how do I know I am not... stealing their story?

You have little to fear, my Champion. If you were not meant to help make their story succeed, you would not of been drawn there to act.

Athela blinks, shaking her head lightly. She was never sure if that was really Keldeo or just her mind's interpretation, but either way he was right. She would not be here if she was not meant to be a part of this risky venture.

William Pauwel has posed:
    It wasn't a few days ago that Will was strewn out by the sudden and nearly fatal application of LV.5 DEATH. But thanks to the rapid response of a certain white mage, he seems to have made a pretty strong recovery. The Chaser waits at a rail, tapping the tip of his boot idly into the deck. At least these guys probably don't have giant suits of powered armor, right? They'll probably be fine! Probably. At least, unless the Amal'jaa have something approximately as bad.

Such as, perhaps 'being giant lizardmen' or 'summoning an incarnation of fire and destruction.' Both of those things are kind of awful.

    Still, when the signal comes to disembark, Will flashes a smile and backrolls off the railing. He certainly will take advantage of Celes' magic as they fall. It's the second time now, and he's more used to the unusual sensation that Float induces. "Just leave snipin' to me," Will says on the way down. "Y'all just worry about what's in front of us! We'll be fine!"

He says that a lot.

It's usually a lie.

Dorian Pavus (774) has posed:
    Dorian's found a place to lean against a wall, and looks as though he's quite relaxed. His usual smile is there, his hair and moustache are immaculately groomed as usual. The only sign that things might be less than normal is his outfit. Rather than his usual light leather armor and white cloak, his armor is quite a bit darker today, a dark, velvetty black. And the cloak has been left off completely. Probably due to the amount of blood he expects. Or maybe because he wants to blend in a little better in the dark, who knows?

    He's got a different staff with him today, too. It's a simple wooden haft, inserted into what looks like a large, thick, gnarled branch. At the top of the staff, nestled in a tangle made by the branch's smaller branches, there is a large white orb. Aside from that, he looks as though nothing is wrong.

    That is, however, what he wants it to look like. Inside? Oh, he's definitely worried. But see, if HE looks worried, then OTHERS will worry. And if others worry, they'll slip up, and get themselves hurt. They're basically taking on a god, from all accounts. Or if not a god, an archdemon. Dorian is no bloody Grey Warden. And he really doesn't want to die in saving the world from an archdemon, or something like it. But instead of focusing on that, he notes, "This is EVER so much better than a sea-going vessel. I will never understand how anyone can stay on board those things for more than a day without becoming violently ill."

    Raha passes him while pacing, and he turns his gaze to the Miquo'te. With his usual light smirk -- and his usual arrogance -- he notes to Raha, "I'm sure by now you know what I'm capable of." Though he does offer a more honest-looking smile to Mihk as she speaks, and adds to Celes's words, "I've got some support magic too. I'm not all 'fire and brimstone'." He also sends a reassuring smile at Athela, even though she's been quiet.

    Will's words get a smirk too. In a mock-scolding voice he notes, "You'll take a Barrier and you'll like it, young man." He waggles a finger at William. But he is clearly only teasing, as the smirk shuld note. As for Float? Well, that just looks all KINDS of dangerous. But, lacking any other means to get down without the ship landing, Dorian will also accept Celes's aid with the spell. He bows as it's cast, with a, "Thank you."

    And then he'll head down with the rest of the group. He isn't flinging magic yet, though, even support stuff. His magic is fairly flashy, so he doesn't want to give their positions away before they even get started.

Rebound (750) has posed:
    Everyone's favorite kangaroo mutant has been looking forward to taking the fight to these guys, after the last time they ambushed them. It's been some time coming, and she seems to be pretty much chomping at the bit to get out there and go to down.

    "So is there a game plan? Or do we just rush in and start hitting things as soon as we hit the ground? I like it that way, but you know some people like to plan things out and use 'tactics' and such." She runs one last check on her armored gauntlets to make sure they're powered up.

N'raha Tia has posed:
    THE DUCAT

    Raha, at least, has some semblance of a smile for Dorian, before he wiggles an ear, and slips that helmet on. There's the metallic muffle of the visor, as Raha pipes up. "It'll be... fine-ish. I've got Faith." He says that with some manner of conviction here. Something in the Echo? Something of a vision or something? Perhaps.

    Rebound's question gets a nod from the Captain. "We're neutralizing their aetheryte, and making sure that Ifrit is definitely gone. Final approach!" ...It's not much to go on, but there's bound to be some manner of 'wing it' when one is going to be fightign a Primal.

     The Ducat swoops low and fast, before the glint and glisten of a large corrupted crystal can be seen in the middle of a large circular area in the canyons below. There's the target! Now Now Now. The Captain and the Sergeants pump their fists in the Ready, Go hand signals to 'disembark' and start the proceedings. A number of the Flames are coming with too, thanks to conjurors slapping Float on those that Celes missed in her first wave of magic.

    IN ZAHAR'AK
    The good news is that the drop goes off smoothly, for the most part. It's only at the very last second that one of the beast men spots the clouds parting and the ship swooping past that the alarm is raised, and a gong is struck somewhere. You folks will have only a few moments to act before shit starts to unravel.

Mihk Lihzeh (573) has posed:
    "Fire will not do us any good here." Mihk says in reply to Dorian, as she stands, and unceremoniously steps off the airship, letting the Float spell catch her as she cradles her summoned Carbuncle in one arm, her tome open in her other hand as she begins to channel energy into it, even as she falls. The spotter is silenced with a bolt of Ruin, but too late to stop the alarm going off... "Formation! We must break through to the Aetheryte!" she calls, letting her summon down, then channeling a larger spell.

    A pulse of energy washes out from her, and then concentrates around the others in the group, forming shields of blue interlocked hexagons. "Protect." she explains simply. It should help to defend against some of the lesser attacks that'll inevitably come their way.

William Pauwel has posed:
    "No fire?" Will actually looks a little disappointed. At least August isn't here. Poor guy would probably turn to ash within a few minutes. "Alright, well," Will mutters, drawing his weapon mid-descent. The Solano's light flickers then shifts to white. Around its barrel, the air seems to vibrate. "I guess this'll have to do. Well, better to know now than later."

    Dorian gets a look, then a grin. "Hey, I ain't about to turn down anything that'll keep me from getting killed. Y'all do your thing!" And it looks as though Mihk is weaving a protective spell as well. That's two layers of protection! And that's approximately two more than Will had before.

As soon as they land, the chaser breaks into a brisk hustle. "Where're we even headed?" He asks before peeking out from behind a rock. The Solano flares as he pulls the trigger, sending bolts downrange which, despite being apparently made of white light, seem to act much like you would expect a high caliber round to. They pop on impact, imparting a considerable amount of kinetic energy into whatever they might hit. He seems to be aiming for limbs, though.

Maybe he's not quite convinced that these guys are completely irredeemable?

Athela Valemore has posed:
The Float is a welcomed addition to get off the ship, as otherwise they would have to resort to throwing down ropes and climbing, which could of left them vulnerable targets. A good shot with an arrow or a spell could of busted a rope, and that would be one less intruder. But no, it doesn't have to come to that.

Once the are on the ground, it becomes an entirely different matter in transport. Athela draws her sword with one hand, and with the other, a glowing aquamarine crystal. "Then let us make most of those moments we have. Lancer, to the field." The pokejewel flashes brightly with blue light, and the armored Samurott appears before her. Athela grabs one of the spikes of his armor with her hand once the jewel is put away, and points forth with her sword in the other. "Charge!"

The metal-clad sealion lowers his head, light glinting along the lance-like blade protruding from it, and slams his tail into the ground. It works like a spring, in addition to the low swells of water that burst around his limbs and underbelly, to launch the pokemon sliding towards their target's location!

Any lizardmen that happen into the path of that gleaming blade rushing forth are going to have a bad time.

Celes Chere (1081) has posed:
    There is a frown on Celes' face for a moment there, but she manages to hold the reprimand in. The soldier side of her was just very unhappy someone was on the ship who hadn't consulted the report, but she abstains from indulging it.

    She swoops off the ship the moment it's time, leaping off with a gleam of magic already following her. The moment she spots the scouts and the loud gong, yellow lightning arcs around her form, and she makes use of still being in the air to try to take out an incoming squad of Amalj'aa while she can.

    "Thundaga!"

    Pew pew huge lightning bolts striking an area.

    Then Celes lands with the others, glancing about to get her bearings, before ensuring she's in a position to try covering Mihk. "Try not to waste any time fighting if we can help it! Disabling the Aetheryte is our priority, not wiping their forces out! We'll take care of that if we don't have a choice, but not now!"

Dorian Pavus (774) has posed:
    "...Kaffas." Uh-oh. Dorian's cursing in Tevene this early in the mission? That can't be good. "We've been spotted." Obviously. He comments on Mihk's strike against the spotter, "Oh, good shot!" He's not kidding, either; he means it. "But not to worry, just because I happen to be good with fire doesn't mean I don't have more than just that." He waggles the staff he carries; there's a visible mist surrounding the orb on the end of the staff, falling like a super-fine mist of snow.

    William's words get a smirk. "Wise words, my friend," he replies. Rebound's question gets a wry, "Well, that's apparently what the plan is now." The wryness isn't aimed at her, no, just at the situation. Celes speaks up, and he nods. "Or that!"

    As for himself, the first thing Dorian does here? Barriers. Barriers for everyone! Fortunately he can use this ability on more than one person at a time. He'll try to get as many people in the area of effect as possible, because he can't just endlessly cast spells. The less mana he has to spend getting things done, the better.

Rebound (750) has posed:
Yeah, that's why she usually doesn't bother with plans. Because something about plans and first contact with the enemy. Rebound shifts her weight in midair as she falls towards the ground, aiming for one of the lizard men.

A lot of kangaroo lands on top of him. It's a good way to break her fall without killing herself. The lizard man might not be so lucky, but that's not really her problem right? She rolls off of the ground and gets back onto her feet, "Alright boys! C'mon and get me!"

N'raha Tia has posed:
    ZAHAR'AK
    As the offworlders start to land and take shots at the approaching Amaal'ja, there's a tension building in the air. Archers start taking shots at the crowd, their arrows splashing into Protect barriers, and crumbling against floating Barriers. Athela's CHARGE-ing attack bowls a number of the beastmen over as well. Raha lands with a crash of platemail and a burst of aether, loud and angry and attracting enmity already. Lightning crackles and sparkles and lizards go flying.
    THE DUCAT
    One of the engineers on the airship suddenly looks up from his controls on the wheelhouse of the ship. "SIR! We're getting massive spikes in the aetheric projectors! Th-" There's not even enough time for a Fatal Science Explanation before there's an explosion on the Airship, and several secondary explosions... and the Ducat pitches forward, a fatal dive into the side of the canyon.

    ZAHAR'AK

    There's a cheer among the Amaal'ja, as a priest climbs up to a platform overlooking the Aetheryte. "BEHOLD, fleshlings! You have been undone! This day already belongs to Ifrit! HAIL THE LORD OF THE INFERNO!"

    Ya'll been sold out, again.

Mihk Lihzeh (573) has posed:
    The Airship explodes and crashes into the canyon wall. Mihk's eyes track its descent, before locking onto the distant platform where the Priest bellows from. She takes a breath, and with a pulse of Aether, calls back. "Your Lord of Flame shall be snuffed out, and every last one of your misbegotten kind ground into the sand of this canyon. Upon that you have my solemn oath, Beastman." her voice carrying on the wind as she begins charging up another spell. This time, a huge Geometry begins to fill the canyon, tracing along the walls, the ground, buildings... and then it locks into place, and an eruption of choking Miasma erupts from every surface, clogging up the canyon and making sight almost impossible...

    For the Amaalj'a. The Flames and the other Elites, would find they can see and breathe just fine within the choking fog.

Athela Valemore has posed:
The charge starts off strong, but then catastrophe strikes the Ducat and it pays a terrible cost for getting them into the enemy's lair as it is sent crashing down towards the cliffsides. Naturally the enemy steps forth to brag and gloat.

Which in turn gets a booming roar from the Samurott. Athela makes some quick remarks of support to her allies over the linkshell, then stands upon her armored beast's backside, Resolute Blade once more held out at dramatic length. "This day is not yet lost, fiends! The only thing your false master is going to be is sorely disappointed as the sword of Justice pierces whatever darkened hunk of ash and charr serves as an empty heart!"

And then the Samurott surges forward with surprising oomph for his armored bulk, heeding not the smoke and fog billowing into the canyon. His head is held low, once more aiming to plow throught the enemy lines and make a path for the heroes to reach their target. And this time the blade tears with even greater force than before, Retaliate empowered by avenging the brave souls lost upon the crash.

Celes Chere (1081) has posed:
    There goes their ship. That's bad.

    Timetables have been messed with.

    Celes' blade flashes white and blue again. This time the magic that flows from it bends the flow of time in everyone's favor, granting Haste to the party. It won't make them into The Flash or anything but running faster is still running faster.

    Coupled with the Miasma spell, it should give them an edge reaching the Aetheryte before any more things go horribly south. And so Celes gives Mihk a nod, a little bit unhappy she's breaking her offer to cover her, though the Arcanist does seem to know what she's doing. They'll just have to be fast enough the Amalj'aa can't overrun her.

    Celes makes a break for the Aetheryte then, leading by example.

Dorian Pavus (774) has posed:
    Dorian's attention is drawn upwards to the explosion of the airship. Their only way out. More than that, he's pretty sure no one on board survived. Innocent people killed, and for what? So some overgrown fire-darkspawn could live again? He mutters several more rude words in Tevene under his breath in a long, angry stream. It's NOW that smirk starts slipping. It's said in Thedas that people from Tevinter are just naturally mean and evil. Anyone from his own world who saw the look on Dorian's face right now would be utterly convinced of that.

    He is PISSED now.

    But his only addition to the various speeches his allies make to the Amaal'ja is a quiet, "Right. Gloves off, then." Odd. One might think that someone as full of himself as Dorian seems to be most of the time would have a lot to say, particularly here. But this? It's unlikely even his allies can hear him in this racket. It is worth noting, however, that his voice has a hiss to it now that almost makes him sound like he might have some snake in his lineage. Sibilant and full of malice. He IS a Tevinter, after all.

    He's about to make it even more difficult for the lizardmen, too. He raises a hand into the air and a purple-white orb of lightning appears, seemingly attached to his hand by a thin 'cord' of lightning. He clenches his hand into a fist and seems to 'snap' the 'cord' with a vicious downward motion of his arm.

    The orb remains above, but casts a near-invisible 'net' on the ground that will attempt to corral enemies within its effect range into an area. It shuld be even harder to see with Mihk's miasma interfering with enemy vision. Perhaps the Cage will make it easier to eliminate them. It might also do some damage of its own if enemies happen to bumble outside the perimeter of the spell's radius.

Rebound (750) has posed:
The mutant watches the ship go down, "Crap, so much for our ride." She mutters to herself, "I swear when we find out who is selling us out, I'm going to irp out their spine and beat them to death with it." She tilts her head and pops it, before she plants her feet and lifts off. She can't fly, but it might be hard to tell from how far she can jump.

She is fling towards that priest, the one standing above it all. She's going to dive down on top of him, Impact Drivers to go to down on him as soon as she can get up there to him. She's not going to pull her punches.

William Pauwel has posed:
There's always someone who's gotta screw the metaphorical pooch, isn't there. Will blanches when he sees the airship go down, leaving them alone and isolated in a canyon full of angry lizardmen about to summon god-knows-what to destroy them all. That is, unless they can deal with the Aethercyte first. But that still doesn't answer the question of how the balls they're going to fight their way out of here.
The answer might actually be 'genocide.'

Will would really rather not.

    "Alright y'all, let's hustle!" And hustle he does. Will plants his feet and kicks vaguely downward. A set of servo motors in his boots begin turning a set of tiny wheels. Will rockets forward towards their destination, sniping away at targets of opportunity whenever they might get in the team's way. There's no time to stay and fight, they've got to keep moving.

N'raha Tia has posed:
    ZAHAR'AK

    Well shit, the party is not going down lightly, it seems. The Miasma goes down, and stymies most of the efforts at first resistance as the group makes a push for the Aetheryte, the massive corrupted crystal shimmering even through the poisonous cloud. The Electric cage from Dorian even manage to reach for the Priest, but a spell cast in reaction lashes it juuuust to the side of the towering Amaal'ja, ensnaring one of his subordinates instead, who goes flying into the dirt while being electrocuted. The same goes for the guy on the other side of the priest as a second spell pushes Rebound juuuust off course, letting her splinter and crack that platform and plaster a poor lizardman into a wall. Celes and Athela and William lead the charge, boosted by a time-ly Haste!
    But Raha... is sticking close to Mihk. There's a look of resolute wrath in his eyes, and that axe comes around to challenge anyone who dares get close to the Arcanist. Let it never be said he doesn't take his duties as a tank seriously. "GO, CELES, I GOT THIS!" He's barely even done saying that as he launches a massive energy blast into an approaching punchsnek and lashes out at another group with an overpowering burst of aggravating Aether.

    But as the group approaches the Aetheryte, something changes. All of the Amaal'ja, as one, put down their arms, and get to their knees. Uh.

    Mihk and Celes and Raha are all going to sense what's about to happen as the Amaal'ja, one and all, start praying and chanting in the name of Ifrit, and the Aetheryte starts to shine and shimmer and... And activates. Involuntary teleportation, as a massive hunk of the ground comes with /everyone/ including the Flames and a number of the Amaal'ja.

    THE BOWL OF EMBERS

    And everyone ends up... somewhere else. It's a cave, at least, a towering, massive thing that smells of sulfur and charcoal and burned flesh and heat.

    Somewhere in the mess of all this, a hyur is laughing. It's one of the Flame Sergeants, and he slowly stands, eyes sunken, his laughter boiling out of him.
    There's aetheric pressure in the chamber, as the sounds of prayer start to resonate, start to rumble, start to penetrate into the collected energy in the room. O-oh dear.

    In the middle of the room, a spark starts to kindle.

Celes Chere (1081) has posed:
    "!"

    They are somewhere else. Things were going great for a moment and now they are not. Celes is still frowning, but then it's kind of understandable in this situation. They were betrayed again, and now they're elsewhere! Some sort of infernal cave.

    Chanting. Someone in Immortal Flames clothes. A spark in the middle. A growing spark in the middle. Oh. /Oh no./

    Save the Queen flashes again, as it seems Celes' role today is that of the White Mage. Green and white magic sparkles in the air, forming a protective shell around the party. Mihk gave them Protect, she's giving everyone Shell, a barrier against magical damage. Because they are about to need it, she reckons.

    "We're too late. I think we've been dragged into Ifrit's domain outright. We're going to have to fight him after all. At least we've found one of our traitors by the same token." Will that traitorous soldier in front of them interfere? Fighting Ifrit is going to be bad enough, but if they have to deal with Amalj'aa and traitors at the same time...

Athela Valemore has posed:
Athela Valemore can't feel the things those sensative to the Aether can.... But honestly, she doesn't need to. Her familiarity with zealots and cults in itself is enough to tell her what's going on as they've entered the cave. Her brow furrows tightly as she steps off her steed's backside, fingers twitching briefly as they reclench around her relic sword's hilt. Resolute Blade even glows a little faintly, as if the divine energies that reside in it can also tell the evil that is about to come forth.

Once she is off his backside Lancer plants his tail into the ground for support and rises up on his back legs. The front limbs grab the prongs of the armor on the opposite limb, pulling free the hilt-like objects. As he does so elemental energy surges from them, forming into a pair of longswords made of pressurized water. At the same time his armor shimmers and gleams, becoming as bright as if freshly polished as he uses Iron Defense to bulk up a bit.

Athela, doing her best to remain undaunted, stands her ground even as the intensity builds in the chamber. "Stand our grand! Remember why we are here, the lives and worlds we have come to protect, and the lives that sacrificed so we could do so! Ifrit's embers shall drown in the tides of honor!"

She doesn't have magical buffs so she's sticking to doing her best to bolster spirits and keep her allies from faulting on that side of matters.

Dorian Pavus (774) has posed:
    For not being a hero, as he always claims, Dorian seems remarkably angered by the loss of innocent lives. Then again he IS going for revenge now, and that's hardly a heroic thing to do. Which is made clear by how, rather than going directly for the Aetheryte, he aims a glyph underneath the feet of whatever lizardmen he's managed to trap with his Static Cage. "Here's your bloody 'eternal flames'," he hisses. A chanted phrase and a sudden upward thrust of his free hand, and the area he hopes the lizardmen are still standing in explodes with fire.

    Then suddenly... everything changes. He has no idea what's going on, thanks to focusing his ire on the lizardmen. This is going to be a problem. The sensation of teleporting is one that kind of freaks him out -- that's not a common magic in Thedas. He's only been teleported a couple of times, and those have been technology-based. This... is something completely different.

    He takes in the scene quickly, though. To Raha he asks, his voice a bit rushed, "If we kill this lot, will it stop whatever THAT is?" He looks to the spark in the center of the room as he speaks. He's not waiting for an answer, though. Particularly not with Celes's comment. His first priority is not attack though. It's defending the allies. So he throws out another round of Barriers. He takes time to pace his mana expenditure though, since the danger isn't upon them JUST yet.

William Pauwel has posed:
One minute he's running for a crystal.

The next... *Poof.*

    If Tellus had stories of Hell, this would probably be pretty close. Will emerges from the teleportation looking a little worse for wear, a little dizzier than he was a minute ago. "Uuugh," he groans, squinting against the oppressive heat that seems to be trying to cook him from every direction. Even the strange black armor he's wearing under his adventurin' duds is barely doing anything to keep him from feeling like he's been stuck in an oven.

Is this aetheric pressure? Or is it just that they appear to have been transported to a sacrificial altar at the heart of a volcano.

    "Why's it seem like we're always on the backfoot with this stuff?" Will groans, the Solano's light shining defiantly against the crackling flames. "Looks like we've got incoming, y'all. If there's anything you can do to protect us from SPECIFICALLY FIRE, now would be a real good time!"

Rebound (750) has posed:
Well so much for her plan. Rebound lands hard after she attempts to land on her target. She grunts in annoyance and slams a fist into the ground, "Damnit. Where are we?" She asks, as she looks around, trying to figure out where they wound up..Or how they wound up here.

She gets back to her feet, "What is that?" She asks, as she looks at the glow that's starting to build nearby. She steps back, sliding her feet into a combat position, just in case whatever that attacks.

N'raha Tia has posed:
    THE BOWL OF EMBERS

    Deep in the depths of the Bowl, shit's going down. Even as the party and the Flames prepare for battle, that spark lifts into the air, a dark orb of hatred and fire billowing open as the ember flashes over....

    And /erupts/ into a billowing gout of fire that resolves into a massive, horned, four-legged sinewy... creature. Demonic looking, flickering with heat and already snarling. <SUBJECTS! WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS? WHO ARE THESE MORTALS?> The words force themselves into the minds of those present, Ifrit's howling incomprehensible otherwise.
    An Amaal'ja priest steps up. "My Lord, these mortals sought to stop Your rule over Eorzea! These fools thought they could stand to the God of the Inferno!"

    The party is buffing up, and trying to make sense of things right now... But not N'raha. The Warrior's red armor glistens from the barriers and the protects and all of the aether that's floating around this room. /He's/ charging to murder that Flame who's laughing and jeering, axe dragging against the floor of the chamber. It makes him a very visible, very likely target for Ifrit, though, who howls, and blasts the region with the Flames with a gout of Tempering fire. The screams of the hyurs in the forces ends swiftly enough... and as the fire fades, N'raha has his axe buried in the chest of the likely traitor, pulling the bloody blade out as he turns his attention to Ifrit and the party. There's a flicker of recognition in the eyes of the Primal, who lowers Himself to receive Raha. <YOU. YOU STINK OF HYDAELYN AND HER MEDDLING. THE PARAGONS WARNED ME OF YOU. DO YOU THINK YOURSELF WORTHY TO FACE ME? YOU AND YOUR PITIFUL COMPANIONS?> The primal wheels to look at the party, breath foul with sulfur and fire, and rears back to let loose a gout of flame at them in particular.

    That's when there's a flash of Aether, and Raha /shoulder tackles/ Ifrit right in the goddamn snout. Oh it's on now.

Athela Valemore has posed:
"We do not think."

Athela lets that half of the response hang in the air for a moment as she grips her blade in both hands.

Raha deals with the traitor, good. Of course this also draws Ifrit's wrath upon them, with which comes a great spewing of sulfuric smoke and flame.

But at the same time her Samurott steps in, swinging both of his elemental swords down as one, which in turn flings a wave of water into the rushing spew of flames. It's clearly not going to cancel out the fire of something as powerful as Ifrit, as tongues of fire lick against his armored form even in doing so, but if he can power through to still hit the Primal with his own elemental force and keep fire from spilling all over their allies, so be it.

"We -know- it," Athela finally finishes, voice resolute with faith their heroic party can pull through this.

Celes Chere (1081) has posed:
    Yep, that's... Ifrit alright. He's a bit larger than she remembers (actually, probably quite a lot larger), and not quite the same-looking, but he sounds close enough. Bit on the haughty and evil side though.

    The initial round of buffs is handled between the multiple barriers and Haste, so Celes readies her sword, just in time for Raha to stick it up to the man. If nothing else the former general would have to admit he's brave. It's better to take action like he did than taunt the beast with heroic speeches, too. Then again she was never really one for them. Her answer to Kefka's taunts was to stab him in the gut. Too bad he didn't die, that'd have saved them a lot of hassle down the road.

    Celes rushes in, braving the flames of Ifrit as her sword takes on a frosty, icy sheen, the air around it cooling down rapidly. She swings, the moment she enters melee range, the blade launching several blasts of ice whether it impacts or misses, focusing an ice spell into a strike meant for one of the Primal's legs. A beast that large is inconvenient to always hit on the head, so crippling its balance will go a long way.

    At least she's stopping frowning. She looks... conflicted, actually? Like she doesn't really want to fight Ifrit. It's complicated. At least Terra isn't here.

Dorian Pavus (774) has posed:
    The mental voice of the Primal is enough to break Dorian's concentration, and he winces, doubling over a bit. That's... really not pleasant. Being open to the Fade for his magic makes these sorts of things affect him more strongly. Hopefully Dorian will be able to pull himself together so he can concentrate. Because those flames are extremely powerful.

    The skin on his exposed arm blisters as his Barrier goes down pretty much immediately upon exposure to the flames. It gives Dorian barely enough time to get out of the biggest confluence of them. He's still going to feel it, though!

He doesn't have a lot of experience with Winter school magic. Certainly not as much as he has in Inferno and Storm school. But that's why he brought this staff. It's an ice staff, so he can cheat! He doesn't bother answering those words. He knows it won't do any good. No, he just attacks. A blue-white glyph appears before him, and as he spreads his arms out to his sides, several icy blasts fly out of the glyph, aimed at Ifrit.

William Pauwel has posed:
Well.

    That sure is a horrible magma goat chameleon thing. Will is briefly reminded of some kind of souped up version of Boston's Deathclaws, but with fire instead of radiation and possessing the capability for speech. Still approximately as much contempt for everything that might possibly qualify as food.

And N'raha's charging ahead to cut someone in half and, presumably, to wrestle the giant fire-lizard for dominance.

Will frowns.

Especially when Ifrit starts /spewing fire/ all over them.

    Will yelps and ducks to the side. He dips, tucks and rolls, just barely slipping out from the periphery of the Primal's burning cone. Part of his coat is on fire, and it looks like he's definitely got a few burns here and there, but it's not enough to put him down. It'd be disappointing if it was!

    "I uh. I actually think quite a bit! I just don't think y'all are exactly in the position to be pickin' worthiness here." Will begins strafing to the side while the various tanks and face-punchers take Ifrit head-on. "I mean, it's not like you get to pick who's going to kick your behind back to the furnace y'all crawled out from under. That's kind of our job to decide."

    Will takes aim at one of Ifrit's legs and starts firing. Over and over, the Solano discharges bolts of inexplicably heavy light. It's as if it's firing pulses of pure kinetic energy-- but a physicist might be able to figure out that it's ACTUALLY launching some kind of extremely dense force field. In any case, it's super science, it hurts on impact, and more importantly, it transforms approximately zero of its own energy into heat. This is pure force, and Will is circle strafing with it.

Rebound (750) has posed:
Now that's the kind of tactics Rebound can get behind. When Raha goes to town on the demon like monster, "Well that's one way to do it!" She calls out, cheering him on, before she jumps up.

She dives down from midair, trying to land on top of Ifrit's head, to slam one of her gauntleted hands down onto his skull. She intends to crack him hard with a full force strike, and then jump off. She has no intention to stand still and let him hit her. She's just going to keep diving in, striking when he's distracted, and then running.

N'raha Tia has posed:
    THE BOWL OF EMBERS

    Let's get down to business, huh? This is a pretty mismatched party, to be sure, but it's not one that's lacking in firepower or backing. Even more so as the Crystal-Bearer stands right in the goddamn way of Ifrit, Raha's axe flashing and parrying and harrying and making sure he's not trying to simply bowl past the catman on His way to the others. Which makes everyone else's jobs easier, so long as the damage doesn't finish Raha off.
    Even more so as the alter-elemental attacks start to land. The water slice and the Blizzaga in particular slash and crash into the Primal, staggering Him from a potential downswing that could have reached the rest of the party. And then everyone's laying into him. Ice blasts from Dorian stagger him several times, and more energy blasts from William targeting those legs.
    And then there's a Pugilist in the mix, beating on the Primal with fists and combos, Rebound's hands striking true and fast.

    Ifrit is not pleased with this. At all. Not even a little. The Primal howls, and /slams/ both fists into the dirt near N'raha, a massive wave of fire slashing out at everyone involved here, before howling something incomprehensible.
tOne, then two massive flaming nails crash into the arena near Celes and Dorian, and start emitting very ominous aetheric fire energies. Bombs? Totems? Something? They're not good, whatever they are.

Athela Valemore has posed:
    ... It is never a good sign when the enemy starts dropping random strange things on the field.

"Lancer, break off!" Though the call isn't quite fast enough and even as he's pushing himself away from Ifrit some of the slashes of flame slam against the Samurott's body. It's a mixed bag, Water resists Fire but Steel is weak to it, so he's still getting hit fairly hard by the neutral damage. On the other hand, it's like hitting a tank with a flamethrower, and even if you're damaging it that's not enough on its own to stop it.

Giant flaming stone nails filled with magic energy. Almost too bad she doesn't have Mizzen with to smash them to bits. Hopefully the Raha can keep Ifrit occupied for a moment while they deal with this new thing they can't risk just leaving sitting around.

Something as powerful as Ifrit wouldn't be summoning things if they didn't do something.

But as she had not been directly engaging Ifrit herself since her Pokemon was, Athela's got an oppritunity to charge directly towards one of the two spires almost as soon as they hit the ground. Resolute Blade, shimmering with the divine might of Keldeo, slashes at the Nail several times.

Then she steps out of the way as her Samurott catchs up, so he can Heavy Slam directly into the thing with the entire force of his armored body.

Celes Chere (1081) has posed:
    Fire splashes everywhere. It's kind of predictable, all things considered. Protect, Shell, and Dorian's own barrier. That's a lot! Then there's Celes' Minerva Bustier, that thing was pretty much made to fight Espers, much like her. The flames might hurt her, but it's going to be really hard to set the general on fire.

    That's good because her cape would be a nighmare otherwise.

    Celes plows through the incoming flames head first, allowing the heat to make her uncomfortable and lightly singe her skin as she pushes for one of the nails. These things look tough, and they're full of magic. Odds are they're going to need a hell of a strike to break one.

    White light floods her sword, and she strikes at the closest nail. It probably won't much care for the fact it's holy-elemental damage in the slightest, but the fact the strike comes with Dispel might be another story. Here's to trying to break it with that, or if it fails, weaken it for the next person to hit it.

William Pauwel has posed:
    Ifrit is not happy. Ifrit sets the entire battlefield on fire. Or rather, on more fire. There was fire already, now there is even more fire. The fire itself is on fire. Will is also on fire, having only the ability to dodge-roll and a set of thermally resistant armor to keep himself from burning to a crisp. The Chaser's duds burn without much hope for being put out aside from killing Ifrit before they- and the guy wearing them- end up nothing more than a carbon stain on the ass-end of history.

Will's about to fire even more bullets at the giant fire monster when suddenly a pair of enormous nails-- they are definitely nails-- slam into the ground and start giving off some really bad vibes.

    Will pauses for just long enough to stare in disbelief before his brain makes a few very important connections. One: These are giant ominous nails. Two: Nails exist to be hammered into something. Three: The only hammer here big enough is Ifrit. Four: Letting Ifrit hammer the nails is probably a bad idea.

And so he comes to a decision.

"I'mma shoot 'em."

    Will switches targets with the fluid grace of a practice gunslinger. Time to put that thing he picked up in the swamp to good use. The Solano's barrel begins to emit a high-pitched whine, its light building to double, then triple its normal intensity. When Will pulls the trigger, he doesn't just fire a bolt. He fires a globe of pure kinetic energy approximately the size of a beachball.

Maybe Ifrit is the only hammer here that's big enough.

But when the best tool you've got is a gun, all your problems start looking like targets.

Dorian Pavus (774) has posed:
    Now... Dorian's no typical squishy wizard, but his emphasis IS on magic. He definitely doesn't have the physical constitution of someone who has devoted their lives to the physical fighting arts. So that wave of fire from the slamming fists of the Primal just bowls him right over. And it's only the grace of the Maker and a timely application of Fade Step that keeps one of those flaming nails from ending him permanently.

    Dorian might have been accused of some degree of genre-savvyness if there were fourth-wall-breakers here. Either way, though, he knows those things are bad news. And there's only one thing he can think to do. It's going to hurt like anything, but he's got no choice.

    He aims at the nearest flaming nail to him -- well, not AT it specifically; more like between himself and the flaming nail. He makes a horizontal sweep of his hands out to his sides at about shoulder level, and then with a chanted phrase, raises his hands. He winces as the mana flows into the spell... and he tries to raise a wall of ice between himself and that flaming nail. Should also cause some ice damage to the nail too.

    And then he promptly stumbles. Ouch. Using magics too powerful for him again. Well, it's less that it's too powerful and more that he just doesn't quite have the experience to minimize the mana expenditure that requires. Regardless, he's kind of not going to be much help for a short while yet. He needs to get his bearings again.

N'raha Tia has posed:
    The room starts to build with aether as Raha keeps decking Ifrit with his fists and body, his axe flashing over with magic as he strikes out and keeps Ifrit's attention. There's a moment though, as the Primal growls deep and low. <You know you CANNOT defeat Me, tainted one. There is no way to be rid of me forever.> Is the Primal smiling? Maybe a little, as he keeps building energy. Raha's face is resolute though, and he offers no witty repartie in return.

    Those Nails are having a bad time of it, though. Athela and Celes both smash through one of the spires with a series of attacks, that Dispel really doing a number on the Aetheric creations. The first one is shattered with an explosion of fire, knocking the Knight and the General backwards from their attacks. The second one comes under fire from Dorian and William, the ranged attacks doing an equally effective job in blasting the totem to bits.

    There's a glare in the eyes of the Primal, who... missed the attacks on those Nails. Something dark and angry overcomes Ifrit, angrier than usual, actually. He bellows, and lashes out at the group with a mildly restrained blast of Hellfire, the burst not enough to kill them, but it might have, somehow. Hooray Mechanics?

    The aether in the room is draining slowly as those attacks continue. Ifrit /does/ need energy to stay in one piece, doesn't he? The Primal snarls very unhappily, though and wheels around to bodily grab Raha and slam him face first into the ground.

Celes Chere (1081) has posed:
    It's instinct alone that lets Celes feel what Ifrit is about to do. She's seen it before after all-- has USED it before, though Magicite is long since not a thing anymore. Terra can cheat, but the general herself has stayed away from making any pacts or contracts with the Espers when things resolved. She didn't feel she had a right to it.

    That is entirely besides the point though.

    "RUNIC!"

    Save the Queen is held high, and like a great vacuum starts siphoning the magic out of the air as Ifrit launches his Hellfire. She isn't sure if she can contain the entire blast, it may well be the Primal's too strong, but if she can mitigate the damage that much more against the group she'll draw it all onto herself, or at least as much as possible.

    This might not be a good idea given how Runic felt against the Amalj'aa's magic, but it's not like it hurt her or anything, so she'll take that chance.

N'raha Tia has posed:
    Have you ever dumped a pan of hot grease on your hand?

    Now imagine hot greasy awful primal magic, inside Celes, as she shunts off a cone of that Hellfire from near the party. It's like that.

Athela Valemore has posed:
Athela Valemore's armored boots skid against the hot stone floor of the cavern as she's shoved by the backblast of the Nail detonating as she forces herself to not loose her footing. Doesn't keep her tabard and cloak from flapping about wildly in the pressure of the shockwave though. Lancer doesn't fair quite so well, being bowled over on his side due to being near the center of the explosion because he had bodychecked the thing.

With a grunt she turns back to the main act of the fight, only for Ifrit to unleash more flames of Hell upon them... Though these seem a bit less hellacious than before. Was Ifrit losing his energy? What was it the Flames had said about Primal's requiring that aether energy to stay anchored here...

... So if Ifrit burns through his own energy...

"That's it! Keep him expending his aether!" Athela braces herself and darts into the Hellfire, mentally gritting herself to ignore the unholy heat trying to burn through her armor. Swirls of water ripple around Resolute Blade as she charges in and leaps, heaving her divine weapon overhead as the Tide Caller channels through it, and swinging it into a powerful overhead slice that surges with water to bring the blow crashing down with all the force of a roaring Waterfall!

Keep constant pressure on him, force him to use his aether to attack and defend, and Ifrit will hopefully burn himself out and lose his connection with this plane, just like a fire eventually expends all it's fuel. That's the tactic she's going with now.

Dorian Pavus (774) has posed:
    Dorian is still recovering from that overexpenditure, and doesn't have the mana to raise a Barrier when that blast of Hellfire happens. He's knocked over again, and he gives a grunt as he falls this time. And he doesn't immediately get up. Though no, he's still not down for the count. But he's still not able to cast any magic. But since there's really no 'safe' place to retreat to... Dorian does the opposite.

    He advances. With his magic still on the fritz, he only has physical attacks to depend on. He's not going to let Raha's sacrifice of his face be meaningless though. While Ifrit's lifting Raha, Dorian goes in for a few hard smacks of that ice staff against Ifrit's side. He's been trained to fight with that staff as a bludgeoning weapon, too.

Rebound (750) has posed:
The kangaroo mutant does not like being lit on fire. That feels very unpleasant. By which it means she's on the ground after the fire burst. But she's not dead, thankfully. She isn't moving very well either, though.

Once the fire clears, she pushes herself back to her feet, glaring at the big boss demon, "Okay, now I'm pissed you stupid.." She brushes some of the charred fur off of herself. She's going to smell like burnt hair for a week. She slams her fists together, the gauntlets flashing green, and she pushes off again, diving towards Ifrit with all the power she can muster, aiming to slam those fists both into him in a downward motion, to bring them down onto his head, and then slam him several times in a row. She's not going to stop swinging until he comes for her directly.

William Pauwel has posed:
    It turns out that this place is far more literally hell than metaphorically. The black-red energy washes out from the primal, menacing with the kind of heat that exists specifically to punish the wicked and burn souls clean of sin. The Gunner's eyes go terribly wide as pure elemental fire sweeps out and threatens to turn him into so much charcoal. It's a little known fact that humans are indeed flammable, and this much heat would be more than sufficient--

But then Celes raises her sword, and carves a safe haven in the flames.

    Will clicks his tongue against his teeth and ducks behind the mystic swordswoman. Certainly, it isn't the bravest thing he's ever done, but to let the opportunity go to waste... Well, Celes is protecting them. It'd be wrong to get burnt to a crisp when she's doing that.

    Will takes aim from the relative safety of Celes' runic umbrella. Without Ifrit's magic to harass him, he can really aim for the tender bits. The Solano fires shot after shot, unleashing a veritable barrage or kinetic blasts downrange at the rampant Primal, aiming at his eyes, his open mouth, anything that might present a soft target. "Well pardner," Will says as he takes his shots, "If you come back, we'll just put you back in the ground. As many times as it'll take. We'll keep coming, until it sticks!"

N'raha Tia has posed:
    ...This has been an exceptionally poor day for Ifrit. True, he's getting to pound a Warrior of Light in the goddamn head and beat the snot out of him, but the creature will NOT GO DOWN and even now is slashing at His arm with an axe. Compound that with creatures beating him in the face and head, and other regions with magic and punches and STICKS ICE STICKS WHY? THEY ARE EATING HIS MAGIC. <WHAT IS THIS FOOLISHNESS. LAY DOWN AND PERISH.> More swatting flames at the group, wasing heat and fire and embers and...

    Pure, unbridled rage starts to boil from Ifrit....'s hand. That axe flashes over and forces itself from the Primal's hand, as Raha bursts out of that grip, using that axe as a lever to get free. He boils with Berserker rage, barely contained and throttled behind his fine edge of self-control. "YOU ARE A LOUSY EXCUSE FOR A GOD." Okay maybe not all the way contained. That axe rises up, and comes down... and chops halfway through the arm of the Primal, a gout of flaming Aether splashing over the Catman. He doesn't seem to notice all that much.

Celes Chere (1081) has posed:
    Everything seems to be going well at first. Celes is doing what her powers were made to do. Screw over Espers. That's actually why she's had this weird, conflicted look on her face this entire time. These might be 'Primals' but Ifrit is still Ifrit. It's unpleasant to relive these things.

    Flames are absorbed into her sword, turned into raw magic, refilling her reserves. That's about when things get really, really awful. It's the same feeling as before, but a million times worse. She screams, in pain, as the final gushes of flame dissipate into her sword and flood her. The general can't help it, her legs give in and she falls to her knees, actually dropping her sword and clutching her stomach.

    What is it like, having Primal magic inside you? Awful in every possible way, for one. For two, she's lucky that Raha's presence probably shields her from Tempering. It might be the attrocious pain or the fact it was fire magic, but there's just a short moment when Celes feels the intense desire to burn it all. It doesn't last. It's probably just the pain. Lesson learned, though: don't do that again.

    Without her sword and with her mind incredibly distracted by the fact her soul is on fire, the potency of her magic is greatly reduced, but she still manages to shoot a wave of healing magic towards N'raha. It's, like, Cure. Maybe Cura. Better than nothing. Best she CAN do right now, either way.

Dorian Pavus (774) has posed:
    The flames make Dorian back off, all right, and he turns his covered arm towards the Primal as he retreats back. But it's not just the flames that make him back off. It's that he can feel his mana returning. And he needs distance to be able to aim without hitting himself or his allies. Particularly with what he's about to do, since he's stuck with Storm magic.

    He stands straight as Ifrit demands they lay down and die. He finally speaks to the Primal; he sneers, "No, I'm afraid not. You see, I've never been the obedient sort. I've always been quite the shocker, to be honest."

    Hey, it's not a GOOD pun, but he's fighting a migraine from overexpenditure of mana. You try to come up with a witty comeback when it feels like there's a company of dwarves mining lyrium behind your eyes! He is, however, aware of it. "...All right, that was bad. I can do better. But for now..."

    And then he's about to use MORE mana. Great idea, right? At least he's using magic he's got more of an affinity with. His hands clap together in front of him, and as he does, and purple/white bolt of lightning lances down from somewhere. With luck it'll both cause its payload of damage AND at least partially paralyze the Primal for greater ease in hitting it for the others.

William Pauwel has posed:
    Will has about as much context for this kind of thing as a fish has for a mountaintop. The closest thing to a primal on Tellus is some kind of cryptic, holographic overlord and the horrible, awful scourge that he's said to oppose. But neither of them, so far as Will knows, are gods. Until Tellus opened itself to the multiverse, magic was an utterly foreign concept.

    And now he's here, staring down fire incarnate with a magic knight, a berserk catman, an actual wizard, and some kind of boxing kangaroo. The world turns in mysterious ways.

    Compared to them, he's really quite mundane. He's just a cowboy with a gun. An amazingly advanced, incredibly powerful gun, certainly, but a gun none-the-less. Will tips his hat down to shield his eyes from the wave of flame and cinder and heat. Celes might be able to absorb some of that magic, but the way she is right now...

Well.

It's not good.

    "Come on buddy, open wide," Will mutters, his weapon aglow with that strange, white light. "Just need one good shot--" The Solano burns brighter with every passing moment until its barrel disappears in a halo of blinding, rippling energy. "Fire!"

He pulls the trigger.

    A lance of sheer force erupts from within the Ancient firearm. It produces a sound like a thundercrack, or perhaps like the sound barrier shattering like a pane of glass. Will grits his teeth as his gun actually snaps back, the shot carrying so much energy that even the usually recoilless Solano kicks like a mule.

Getting hit might feel like getting hit in the face by a truck. Or a tank.

Athela Valemore has posed:
Ifrit keeps spewing weakened shots of fire, and while she's in close quarters like this Athela can't sidestep it all. Her midweight armor is definately starting to show it's wear from the prolonged fighting; and the redhead is huffing a bit. The intense heat of Ifrit and his lair does not combine well with wearing armor, even if it is not as heavy as say something the Catzerker is probably wearing.

There's a little less furious rage involved, but she is every bit as determined to see this through to the end as Raha is. "Ye only call it foolishness because your god complex cannot comprehend being fought and defeated!", she snaps back at the Primal's attempts to talk them into submission.

Lancer has gotten himself back upright, but he's not in very good shape to charge into the fight after tanking through the exploding Nail and several of Ifrit's attacks. He's hanging back, if only so he can jump in for his Trainer's defense if needed. But for right now, this is her fight.

And fight she does. "Justice shall prevail, no matter what you throw at us!" Resolute Blade starts to glow, this time not with elemental energy, but with the sheen of divine energy. As Keldeo one struck down the spawn of the Regis in legendary wars past, in her hands the sword resembling his horn now seeks to do the same to evils threatening this world. "SACRED SWORD!", the young knight screams with all the convinction in her body as she lunges in admist the fire strikes to plunge the smiting blade into Ifrit's side.

Rebound (750) has posed:
    "Why won't you go down!" Rebound yells out, as she hops away from the wannna be god. She flips backwards, and lands in a three point stance. This thing is tough, way tougher than most of the stuff she fights. But she's tough enough, she's going to do her best to help finish taking him down.

She moves in from the side this time, trying to strike at him with several blows from the side with those Impact Drivers. Each blow should include a flash of plasma as the weapons unleash their charge.

N'raha Tia has posed:
    Lightning has no problem penetrating the defenses of the Primal, and Dorian's lance of thunder crashes through the hide of the beast, doubling Him over onto the ground.
    The sword comes around, and slashes deep as the PokeKnight makes a strike for justice and Good Taste In Religion, the side of the great beast spewing flames.
    The Machinist lances out a blistering arc of fire that cracks Ifrit across the snout, bloodying His face and sending him reeling...
    The Pugil-roo just Won't Stop PUNCHING HIM, flashes of fire erupting from Him as he staggers...

    Raha's ears perk as that Cura slaps into him, the unnatural feeling of accelerated healing washing through him and shoving the right bits of him back into place. It's enough oomph in his step for him to bring that axe around one last time, and slice Ifrit right through his hellsdamned head.
    There is a howling, rage-filled burst of spittle from Ifrit as He arches up, flexes in a last throw of pain... and then dissipates into residual Aether, the wash of angry red energy flickering away like so many motes of light.

Athela Valemore has posed:
Athela Valemore takes a few strained breaths, still hunched partway in a battle stance, still gripping her sword tightly. She doesn't trust this to be over until the last motes of Ifrit are truely fading away.

Only when that's assured does she push herself upright, and Lancer scoots in to give her a solid (abiet equally battered) form to lean against. "Good job, valiant steed."

Though she still frowns a little. If this fight is anything like what facing one of the Regis would be.... She has a long way to go in her own story before she'll be ready.

But that's worry for another time.

She gives Resolute Blade a firm shake to dislodge any lingering Ifrit viscera before turning the weapon and resheathing it at her side. "And a job well done to the rest of ye as well."

Dorian Pavus (774) has posed:
    Dorian holds strong as the Primal roars in rage. In fact he tenses, expecting another horrible attack. And he's not sure he can raise Barrier for this one either. Mana overuse doesn't 'just go away' in a few moments, like an ice cream headache. And he can't take much more of what this beast is dishing out, either. So he faces a choice -- try for another Barrier and risk fainting from overuse and possibly having to wrestle a demon for control of his mind, or just tank whatever fire comes his way and probably take more damage than he can handle.

    Thankfully the Primal offers a third choice. It dies. Apparently, anyway. Dorian sighs, his shoulders slumping in relief as the Primal's energies disperse. "Fasta vass," he swears under his breath, though the sound is more of relief, as in 'holy crap I'm glad that's over'.

    As the Primal fully disperses, he leans heavily on his staff. His exposed arm is blistered pretty bad, pretty much every bit of exposed skin (which is just his arm and his face) is reddened from the intense heat of the flames, and his hair and moustache are singed. His armor's scorched too. Which might have been partially why he wore black -- who can tell from a distance that it's scorched?

    Athela's words get a weary smirk. "We're alive, for now. It isn't. Definitely two points for us." His voice has that taut sound that someone with a massive headache has. Not hurting enough not to snark, though. "Though when dealing with a world that goes 'Think fast!' and then bam -- evil god thrown directly at the face, I'd have taken the former on its own, truthfully."

Celes Chere (1081) has posed:
    It will take Celes a few more moments to finally get back on her feet, and another to find and pick up her sword. At least Ifrit isn't going to be a problem anymore, but-- they've been transported, when this started. Where ARE they? They're going to have to find their way out. The Amalj'aa still have their Aetheryte, too. They can just resummon Ifrit eventually, can't they?

    She grunts and groans, clearly having seen better days. She's not physically hurt, at least, but her insides still feel like they're boiling. "Don't-- don't assume we're done yet. We don't know that there was just the one traitor, and the only person we could ask is..." Well, N'raha sure did a good job axing him a question there, so the group won't be able to. "We're also... where ARE we? How do we get back out? And that Aetheryte still needs..." She almost trips forward, clutching her stomach with one hand as she winces. Really, she is in NO state to be worrying about the five things they still need to worry about.

    "Five minutes of rest and praise can't hurt, though... heh..."

N'raha Tia has posed:
    Raha... Is taking a nap, it would seem. Thankfully it is not a dirt nap.
    Though whatever's going on, there's a lt of eye movement going on behind his closed lids. And as he lies on his back, one hand clutches his axe... the other is wrapped around a large crystal, about the size of the Magicite that Celes would be used to. The crystal is a glowing, crimson red prism. The Catman will not part with it.

William Pauwel has posed:
    "That--" Will points over at Celes. "Is a REAL good question. I'm glad that we were able to put Ifrit down and all, but there's still a small army of lizards between us and the outside, nevermind gettin' out of wherever THIS is, first." He frowns as Celes stumbles, shifting over to help steady her. "Hey. Y'all okay? You can use me as a crutch if y'all like." Despite his scrawny build, all the adventuring he's done seems to have given Will quite a bit of strength of his own, it seems. "Payback for the incident in the swamp. And for usin' you as cover earlier. Heh."

At the very least, the air feels... lighter, with Ifrit's passage back into the aether. Will frowns over at N'raha, too. "...Man. I don't think I can carry two of y'all out of here. His axe is kind of huge."

N'raha Tia has posed:
    Thankfully... teleportation magics aren't going to prevent exiting this place. Any attempts to land in the right spot on the way out /will/ succeed.