6325/You Have Selected Regicide

You Have Selected Regicide
Date of Scene:	23 January 2019
Location:	Thornmarch
Synopsis:	The Adventurers infiltrate the heart of Moogle Country and put down Good King Moggle Mog, Twelfth of His Name, Kupo.
Cast of Characters:	N'raha Tia, Count Kord, Inga, Athela Valemore, Mortimer Balman, Tomoe

---

N'raha Tia has posed:
    TRIAL: Thornmarch (Hard)

    The Scions of the Seventh Dawn have lead the Adventurers, Offworlders, and assorted Elites to a heavily tangled thicket of brambles, roots and gnarled plant growth deep in the thickets of the Black Shroud... and here, standing in the dimly lit undergrowth, stands a towering, ancient, corrupted aetheryte, just barely functioning enough to put out a feeble light to show it's in operation.

    N'Raha is here, clad in his distinctive heavy red plate mail, looking for all the world like a Super Sentai character. The visor's up so people can see his face, though. Alongside him are a pack of brainy looking types, an extremely tall elf in robes wearing goggles, another catperson, this time a white haired lady cat. And a anxious looking young elven man, wearing blue and pacing as people file in.

    He's also chatting. "Honestly, I do not like this. We have no proper intelligence on Moggle Mog's capabilities. We know the Mogglesguard have... comparable powers to adventurers, but..."
    The catlady demurs. "Auphiaud, The Warrior of Light has handled more than enough Primals, I think we should have faith, don't you? Also, you are pacing."
    N'raha, for his part, is leaning up against the Aetheryte, eating an apple, looking... very nonplussed that he's being talked about like this. His tail swishes easily... and those who know the warrior will spot that he's calmer than he usually is. He's about to get into his element. No sense wasting energy now.

Count Kord has posed:
    'File in.' Kord arrives carrying a Thunderwolf in his enormous talons, the elephant-sized creature somewhat unhappy with its treatment but otherwise unharmed. He flies in, nimble even in the close quarters of the thicket, and politely sets the creature down, then flits up to a perch and lands here where the others have arranged themselves to look down at them in imperious fashion. He briefly puffs his 'feathers' and leers down at everyone with a mild, avian-draconic disdain, but awaits the explanation of the battle they are all due to fight. He shuffles in place on his perch in impatience for a second.

    "This should be good fun," he muses aloud, his hollow echoing voice drooling with dracula-alike tonation.

    -- EARLIER

    A lone thunderwolf is minding his own business where Mort is presently residing. Kord flies in to land nearby, looking at the fluffy creature in thought. He then announces, "Let's go have some fun, Mortimer!" And then he flaps his wings and simply plucks the enormous wolf off the ground and takes flight before the badger man can argue. "We're off to glorious battle!" he calls, as he gains altitude.

Inga has posed:
Inga is also here, sitting on the ground near N'raha, waiting for the others who are coming to help them to arrive. She listens to the Scions and Alphinaud's worrying, not sure if there is much she can do to ease his fears. "Worry not, we will see that this is dealt with," she assures him. She doesn't have nearly as much experience at this as Raha, but it isn't her first rodeo either.

Inga is dressed for battle--in an Inga sort of way. This simply means she's wearing dark colors that won't blood stain and a number of talismans. Her knife is strapped to her belt and she has her staff in hand. That's all she needs.

Inga looks to Raha, raising a brow slightly. Well, he seems calm. That's good.

Inga blinks then as some creature is dropped from the air into their general area. She looks over toward Kord blankly. What?

Athela Valemore has posed:
    Sounds of rustling and rattling in the brush is certainly not an unfamilar sound in the background of the gnarled overgrowth of the Shroud... But what about munching? But that is exactly what it is, a goat-like head pushing through the tangled foilage as he takes a big bite out of it, continuing to chew on it like ungulates are wont to do as he pushes the rest of the way through. With Athela sitting on his back. Who needs a machete when your mount can just clear a path, right?

    "Now I see why many adventurers doth not travel these parts openly," comments the lady knight as she pulls a few twigs out of her cloak and smooths it down. "But Brushguard should be fed for some time. So this be the place?" She slides off the Gogoat's backside, only to pause as she stares up at the aetheryte, nose crickling a bit. "It.. is not suppose to look that way, is it?"

    And then Kord of all beings drops in on the gathering with some monsterous sized wolf in tow. She blinks once, then again, and.. finally just rolls out a sigh. "I be not sure if I even want to know what he's up to..."

Mortimer Balman has posed:
     The people of Eorzea would no doubt be quite surprised to see a strange humanoid badger with a mass of wraithly flame coming off of his head come screaming bloody murder out of the nearest Gate, dragging behind a giant butterfly with an absurdly British mustache and a tortoise creature of deepest cerulean who just looks cranky as hell. They're probably more surprised to see this man chasing after a giant flying demon-bird-thing that is carrying a wolf the size of an African elephant, and crying like a scared puppy. No doubt at least one person will pause and swear to quit drinking forever.

     Mortimer will however not be deterred by any obstacle, person or monster, in his pursuit of Kord. He's furious and things that get in his way are liable to catch fire if they can actually pose him an obstacle or threat. "I'M GONNA KICK YOU IN THE DICK SO HARD YOUR MATE WILL LAY SCRAMBLED EGGS, GODLING!" Comes a booming roar not too far behind Kord.

Tomoe has posed:
Tomoe has been informed of the issue in the Thornmarch so the Salamander was here more than willing to help out the Scions after all it paid to make friend and allies. Still just letting something like this rampage about didn't sit well with her. She'd known a few deities oddly enough to say in her life in the multiverse, but those ones? Didn't eat people's minds like the Primals were wont to do, she's clad in the mix of what seems to be plate and cloth that she normally wears and seems to be making ready for a moment.

"Heard you had a primal problem I'm ready to go is there anything additional we need to know about this Primal and the situation with it in general?"

Then she hears Mort over the comm. what the blue blazes is going on with that and she just looks at at the source of the voice.

"Count Kord what did you do?!"

N'raha Tia has posed:
    Well never let it be said that Offworlders weren't an unruly lot. N'raha just looks up at the batch of ne'er-do-wells that are joining him on this little fiasco and... grins, lowering his visor. The slightly hollow voice rings out from behind it. "Well, Alphinaud, are you convinced we're okay now? You've got beastmen, knights, and Inga with us. We can't lose." Something cocky in his voice as he tosses his apple into the woods with a mighty throw... and then taps Inga on the shoulder. "Let's do this. Urangier, get them through." And then he vanishes in a cloud of blue magical static.

    And as the young elf just fumes lightly at the slightly obnoxious scene going on, and the catlady pats his shoulder, the tall elf closes the book he's reading with a decisive SNAP. "Delay is not advised, Adventurers. Please approach the aetheryte and press your hand against it."
    And as every follows suit...

    The group will find itself in the only clearing in a heavily overgrown forest, deep in the Shroud, and deep in Moogle territory. And there's a catman in armor, calmly staring down a pack of big-ass moogles, that are clearly discussing what to do with him. Each one seems to be armed with a set of adventurers gear, whether bow or axe or spear or knives, staff and wand... And they seem to be planning murder in adorable voices, kupo.

    Though as more and more of you appear, they start to flail about. The one with the sword and shield though, seems to get everything back under control. And in a cute little warble, he calls out. Mogglesguard... charge!"

Inga has posed:
If Inga had been drinking something, she absolutely would have done a spit-take when a badger man arrived. Inga is accustomed to seeing all sorts of strange things, but this arrival has her eyes widening. Has she eaten some moldy bread or something!? Either way, things threated to get derailed and completely out of hand her. Inga scoffs and looks to Raha as she props her stick on the ground and uses it to help herself get to her feet.

Beastmen, knights, and Inga. Tch!

She nods to Raha, then looks to Kord and Mort. "We do not have time for this--I do hope you are here to assist us and can put your quarrel off until afterward," she says to them, then turns her gaze to Urianger. She has to crane her neck to look him in the eye (eye...area). She follows his direction, places her hand upon the aetherite...

And there they are. Being charged by adorable moogles. Truely this must be the hardest part of this. Forgetting how adorable they are as you beat them up.

Inga pulls her knife, casually stabs herself, and flicks a blood ward around herself that protects her from the brunt of the charge. She fires back with burst of force, aiming her staff and hissing a quick incantation to blast the moogles back and away from her. Inga likes to do things from a safe distance.

Count Kord has posed:
    Kord tells Mortimer as he arrives, "Can't punch me if you can't catch me," and then taps his beak on the Aetheryte. He vanishes from Mortimer's sight, and appears where everyone else is.

    And hears the sound of a cute moogle thing charging at him, attempting to stab him. He calmly puts up one of his wings to parry some of their blows, and glances about at the crowd of unruly creatures. One of his eyes briefly close in thought. "It almost feels tragic that I'm going to destroy you," he thinks aloud. Then he breaks the weapon clash he's in with his wing-claws and emits a blast of slicing wind out in a large shockwave, trying to bowl over innumerable moogle adventurers, or hurt the few that got close to him.

Athela Valemore has posed:
    Kord did that.. just to... Athela shakes her head. Okay, whatever, Kord's inability to just talk to people is neither her problem at the moment, nor the time to bother with it.

    Instead Athela turns and points to her Gogoat. "Stay here, guard the Scions and the crystal." Last thing they need is some wild monsters showing up to ruin what she imagines is also their only way back once the deed is done. Brushguard grunts and nods in confirmation, then goes back to grazing on the overgrowth. With one pokemon left on overwatch she walks over with the others and puts her hand to the crystal as instructed... And is somewhere else entirely.

    And almost immeadiately under attack via adorable archery. Reflexively she draws her weapon and swings it up, slicing several of the arrows right out of the air, save one that manages to dip lower and graze her side. Tch. "There is only one way to deal with this. Slurry!" The pink and lavander blob poked out from under her cloak. "The archer, we need to deal with him." She holds out her weapon at arms length, allowing the slug-dragon to slither down onto it. She spins around twice in place and then with an "Ally oop!" catapults the Goomy off hurtling into the air, right towards Puksi!

    The cute slug-dragon is just going to give the cute furball a hug. By clinging to its face. But being covered in sticky, acidic slime, it's not a very happy at all.

Mortimer Balman has posed:
     Mortimer's mouth is leaking flames as he gets ready to lay an atrociously ugly beating upon Kord. And then.. MAGIC. And they are elsewhere. "What the blue-blazing post-modern FU-" He's cut off by the sudden change in environment, and the sudden appearance of armed moogles. "...What?" And then he catches a sharp object into his side. "Nngh! You little-" He grabs the moogle by the face, and geometric symbols both circular and triangular start etching themselves into the air around it, like little lines of ice... Mort intones a strange incantation, "Biting wings of the Winterlord, remind us of forgotten truths: Patient Frozen Phoenix- Broken Glacier Storm!"

     The temperature around his hand drops drastically, and then the Moogle is flung into the ground by a withering blast of ice and snow. It's probably not a good idea to just charge someone who's clearly angry with weapons. Of course, he doesn't realize what's going on all that well yet. Maybe it won't kill the little thing, though.

Tomoe has posed:
Tomoe has heard of Moogles before but never seen ones quite like this before they are coming in right after them in a group? Wait are they the one being raided? Old habits kick in without much thought on her part. She will move to engage Kupdi Koop. She attempts to evade the attack however she not successful while she parries it somewhat the force of the blow does some damage all on its own even as she directly avoids a direct hit. Which she's quite glad she did so. She also seems to be trying to keep an eye on Inga too not wanting to see her friend and one of the healers of note who are here to go down. Even if Inga is Immortal? One dying sucks, two she can keep other people who don't get up from dying and four she is her friend too.

Tomoe's counter-attack comes now.

"All right then if you want this fight?! Then your going to get it!"

She had no idea Moogles could get this vicous realluy. Now she knows they can and that's disturbing to her. Even as she moves to launch several more attacks at the Moogle who came after her.

N'raha Tia has posed:
    The desperate problem with being moogles, though, is that individually none of these guy are all that tough, especially to Elites. And yes, they are adorable. And yes, they are more than fluffy. And none of these attacks are good things.
    Mortimer charges poor Pukla Puki, who gets off a sparkle of fizzled magic before falling to the ground, frozen and twitching.
    Kord singles out poor Pukna, the thief mog fluttering to the ground and twitching. "...kupo."
    Inga's glancing blow even casts poor Kupta to the ground. No blood though. Actually none of these guys seem to be taking 'lethal' attacks. They might not be made of anything that can be hurt like that?
    N'raha, for his part, shoulder tackles a Mogglesguard holding a healer's staff and is presently stomping it in the back of the head. Rude.

    Puksi yelps. "KUPO! Kupqu! Help me!" The rangermog floats over, and as the bard starts singing a song, the Ranger starts firing harder at people, volley after volley of sharp arrows with stinging barbs.
    Kupdi, the Paladin, charges at Mort, his little shield raised and shining, as he tries to sort out who's next. This isn't looking good for the Mogglesguard.

Inga has posed:
Inga blinks at Raha's moogle head stomping, her mouth hanging open, agast. "I thought we were not suppose to kill them!" she exclaims, just as she takes an arrow to the arm. It grazes her, and the blood running down her arm can only be uses to her advantage. She flicks blood toward whomever is closest and appears to be injured, then with her other hand raises her staff. The air grows cold around her, breath misting as she exclaims "Isa!" and sends her magic hurtling toward the moogle archer, aiming to freez him into a moogle-cicle, and most importantly, stop him from firing volleys of arrows.

Count Kord has posed:
    Kord utterly floors a moogle Thief, which doesn't surprise him all that much. He looks down at the twitching creature for a moment, and takes note that it isn't bleeding or convulsing... he probably can't kill these things that easily, and that means he doesn't have to worry about it all that much. So, he looks up and... oh, they're attacking him again. The twenty foot tall bird-dragon is distressingly easy to strike, and his attempt to swat away the arrows just results in some of them digging into his flesh and making him hiss in pain.

    Then they fall from his bleeding flesh as he briefly loses coherence, so that they don't hinder him for the fight ahead. He responds to the volley of arrows by singling out the bard. He braces himself, opens his maw, and fires a sphere of purple-blue energy at the moogle like a sniper shot, black lightning crackling along his body. The Shadow Ball is just 'ghost' energy condensed into a damaging shot.

N'raha Tia has posed:
    Raha's head snaps up and he stops stomping, turning to look at Inga. "HE WAS TRYING TO CHOKE ME OUT WITH MAGIC!"
    And then the arrows come in and he's running for cover.

Inga has posed:
"Fair enough!" Inga shouts back.

Raha's temper is going to make being non-lethal a bit difficult it would seem!

Athela Valemore has posed:
    That did not work quite as intended. Likely means they need to practice that trick more, but now is not the time to fret over it. Athela tries to muscle her way closer but even her quick dexterity can deflect through that many arrows coming down like a hailstorm. An arrow might not do much to her armor on its own, but when it's hitting again and again and again. And now the archer is getting help from the bard as well. "Slurry, you okay?"

    The Goomy wobbles where he landed as he shakes off, and burbles an afirmative. "Okay then." While normally she would not put so much reliance into her pokemon, she's trying to conserve some of her strength for the core of the problem when it finally appears. So instead she points her weapon encouragingly towards the MogArcher and MogBard. "Use Sludge Wave!"

"Goooo!" What would pass for cheeks briefly bulge out to the point that they're as large and wobbly round as the Goomy is himself. Then he opens up, spewing a huge surge of poisonous purple slime towards the duo!

Mortimer Balman has posed:
     Mortimer is again assaulted by angry little beasts that stab and jab at him and he is getting PRETTY DAMNED FED UP WITH THIS. Because he doesn't know their deal, he only knows that Kord has goaded him into a battle without his consent. "That does it." He grabs the little Moogledin's weapon and throws the damnable thing away from him, after ripping said weapon out of his chest. He starts chanting a new spell. Dark energies appear swirling around him, carving symbols that bleed in the air. He weaves his hands through them. "Switchbait, assist me! Sleep Spores!" "<Of course, sah!>" The little Butterfree floats toward his master, flapping his wings hard and giving off dust.

     Mort's words carry Power when he speaks, "Behold, for I am One touched by Yveltal, Who Presides over the End of Worlds. Flee for your lives if you value them but a little." The winds kick up hard around Mortimer. An oily, pitch smoke follows and carries the spores, threatening to drown the Moogles- and only them, somehow- in a tide of choking, cloying darkness that makes it hard to see, hear, or speak. "Berefet of sight, remember childhood terrors: Blind Silence Requiem."

Tomoe has posed:
Cute murder is still cute murder in the end. Tomoe is not having too much luck at this point. Kudi Koop has got away on her as the ranger opens up on her she takes several hits and keeps on running, one arrow still in her for the moment she has got an idea from the Moogle Paladin she's going to shield charge the Ranger to put an end to his volley of fire. She becomes a freight train barreling at them as she lowers the mourning wall with the intention to slam into the Moogle Ranger.

"You want to play that game? FINE!"

N'raha Tia has posed:
    Another round of attacks proves if not lethal to the Mogglesguard, then at least very much incapacitating. One by one the remaining Moogles fall to the dirt until they're all twitching and groaning, kupo.
    And then there's a squawk from Whiskerwall Kupdi Koop. "The King! We must summon the King! To me, Mogglesguard!" A flutter of motion, and the squad of warriors is up to their wings and gathering in a circle in the middle of the clearing. From somewhere, a song starts playing, and the Mogglesguard starts to... dance. It's a butt shaking, pom waggling affair, as they spin and boogie in place... "HAIL TO THE KING, KUPO!"
    And from the center, with a little bit of fanfare, out of the misty ground, rises the largest damn moogle any one of you has ever seen. And for some that hasn't been that long, but. He's got a crown, a massive gilded wizard's staff, and seems to be pissed. With a thundering Kupo, it calls out. "You shall suffer for your transgressions against my subjects! KUPO." There's a moment, as he casts... some sort of spell, and the whole sky darkens, stars that... honestly shouldn't exist and weren't there a few moments ago shining bright and deadly in the sky. The whole battlefield shifts somehow, and there's a genuine malice in the air now. This has changed things. This is not a Good King Moggle Mog, Twelfth of His Name. Whatever this is in front of you, it is...Wrong. And Terrifying. And Other.

    And Cute.

    And with a cry, the Mogglesguard come charging in at the party once more, their attacks bolstered by the presence of their 'King'. "KUPO!"

Inga has posed:
The wisewoman of Uppsala frowns deeply as the Moogle's guard summons their king. He is large, he is menacing, he is....still sort of adorable! But the aura of malice her exudes is /not/ adorable and she doesn't fancy dying in this fight. That would be be /embarrassing/.

It is time to step up her game. Now that Moggle Mog has been summoned, they can focus upon him and work toward finishing this.

But first, Inga is set on fire. It is not fun. It is, in fact, rather painful! She lets out a quick scream then, cuts open a new wound in her arm, healing herself with a cloud of crimson.

There's nothing quite like being set on fire to piss off a witch.

Blood continues to pour from her wound, rising in the air and solidifying into several sharp javelins. With a flick of her knife she sends the blood spears hurtling toward Moggle Mog.

Tomoe has posed:
The Moogle Guard is dropped by the combined effort but this feels too easy to Tmoe even as she comes up form her last attack she looks to see as the King Arrives. There's a pang of fear given she knows what Primals can do. She's not a chosen one, she has no special defences against something like that. She's going to hit hard fray and pray that they can take this cute avatar of power down.

She readies herself but then comes the Kupat Kapa with one heck of an axe which connects getting in under Tomoe's guard leaving a clear sign of injury on her. Even more so her body distorted in an unnatural way, red jagged lines like a wireframe on a computer model. Tomoe keeps moving, knowing that slowing down would be a hell of a bad idea here. She will turn about launching a sword art , this time at the Moogle Guard. Her blade glows white and then comes the inhumanely fast attack as Tomoe clearly is trying to break through the others guard by brute force.

"We need to take the King down!"

Athela Valemore has posed:
    "Good job." In the brief break in combat while the moogles seem to be down Athela kneels to pick the small slug up and reposit him on her shoulder. "Though we shall work on the launching late--"

    She trails off as the King Him Mog Self does appear finally, and things start to turn dark both literally and figuratively. She frowns, regripping her sword tightly. "It t'would seem the Scions were correct about possible corruption from the method used. This doth not bode well. Dark skies herald a rising storm..."

    But first they have the Moogleguard making one more push. "Have at ye--eep!" The small and spritely Pukna Pako leaps upon her before she can finish an appropriate challenge. The daggers jab repeatedly before she manages to grab the little fuzzball of stabbity with her free hand. "You know not what folly ye have wrought."

    Water erupts from her palm as she lets go, using her aquamancy to launch the moogle across the grove and hopefully out of the fight so they can focus on His Royal Mogness.

Count Kord has posed:
    Kord does not enjoy the whole 'cute things trying to murder him' thing. It reminds him of Fairy-Types, and those things could be even more vicious, especially toward him. He grunts as a shield is thrown at him, and he simply weaves out of the way of it, narrowly avoiding being clipped by the flying defensive tool. He uses this moment to narrow his gaze upon the great King Mog, the Primal that seems quite intent on bringing down his faux-godly wrath upon them, complete with a vow to right the wrong of their actions.

    "I'm the god here, pretender," he retorts confidently.

    Then he flaps his wings and takes to the air, and aims down at the Primal. His underbelly glows a deep, bloody red, and energy crackles along his body, focused by both wings and his tail in an arc that connects at his mouth. Then, he fires a great red beam of energy that warps the air and annihilates the very light itself on its path toward his target, screaming through the air toward the being's center of mass.

Mortimer Balman has posed:
     Mortimer tries to get his footing, now that he's FINALLY no longer confused about what the Hell is going on. Unfortunately it seems as though the Moogles saw through his smokescreen, and a number of weapons are now stabbed INTO him. This is not pleasant, in fact quite painful. However, Mortimer is nothing if not resilient and now he's thinking much more clearly. He grabs at the weapons that some of the Moogles have stabbed him with, and holds them in place. "Reder! You're up!" "<You got it, Sarge!>"

     While Mort holds the Moogles, the wartortle scampers into the field and looks up at this Primal.. Thing. "<Gods.. What a crock!>" It's now Reder's turn to do some wonky Pokemon magic shit, and he opens his mouth. A beam of ice fires forth like a laser- but the ground around him is now some strange, alien geometrimagic symbolism that only they know. The beam shatters mid-shot and reforms into the shape of a dragon's head, roaring and rising high into the air before slamming down toward the Good King with the force of a tidal wave, shattering and exploding into an avalanche of icy shrapnel.

N'raha Tia has posed:
    WOW! That is a LOT of brute force here. A whole lot of it. Though, most of it seems to be directed at The King Himself, Glory Be Upon His Whiskers. Especially that shot across the nose from Kord, which sends the Good King Moggle Mog End over End in the middle of the clearing. The rest of the Mogglesguard sort of turn to watch that, before scattering to the edges of the arena...

    Inga and Raha will both get the flash before it happens. Terrible. Emptiness. A wide yawn of Nothing that spreads from... the King.

    And then the King raises his staff. "NO LONGER SHALL YOU DARKEN THE STEPS OF MY PEOPLE, KUPO."

            "MOMENTO MOOGLE."

    There is an awful, terrible shift in the entire arena, as a dark, horrifying wave of pure uncaring relentless nothingness washes over every person present, ripping at the very heart of their beings.
    

Count Kord has posed:
    The void washes over Kord. Nothingness stabs into every corner of his being. He can feel the life drain from his body, his flesh eroding under the dark magic of this terrible creature. And then, as quickly as it came, it's over, and he's sagged on the ground, wheezing, dripping blood from his form, trembling. He then sniffs in a breath, and flaps his wings once to rise up into the air. King Mog has not yet crushed his spirit. So he is going to take one last good shot at the Primal.

    His body glows with powerful, soft blue energy, that radiates from his eyes. The power of the sky cloaks his body, wind curling and whipping around him. Then he launches himself toward the Primal as hard as he can, and tries to drive his claws into the creature, slamming forward at full speed with a furious and decisive roar. He doesn't understand quite what happened, and the pain of what was just done to him has sapped his tactical reasoning. Now, there is only murder.

Mortimer Balman has posed:
     The wave blasts into Mortimer and his crew. The old badger is clearly trying to cast some other spell, but he's cut off before he can even begin. When the wave passes, Reder and Switchbait are laying on the ground. Mort is on his knees.. But he's still holding onto the Moogles. Even as he coughs wetly and spits out a mouthful of blood. "Ulbrecht.. Go.." The beast was flattened.. But it's getting back up, and it's not the same scared puppy that got carried here by a giant bird-monster.

     Teeth as big as swords are bared and glisten with its own blood. A horrid, deafening howling and braying is heard to defy the silent nothingness that just smashed the hell out of him, and his precious family. The fluffy fur is raised all around, and the wolf's eyes are filled with a bloodlust that is nothing short of terribly *human*. A wall of muscles and teeth charge the Great Primal King, weaving around behind it so it can get at the back of its head.

     It's amazing and terrible to behold, in a primitive sort of way, just how wide those jaws can open..

Athela Valemore has posed:
    There is a certain amount of awe in seeing Oblivion Wing in action. Awe and trepiditation. But there is little time to revel in it when a spiritual emptiness is brought out of the darkness in retaliation. "What the h--nngh!" Teeth clench in a snarl, cutting off the remark as Athela drops to a knee, the blade of her sword stabbing into the ground. Her hands tighten around the hilt, and the snarl turns into a growl as she bears down at the nothingless tearing into heart and soul. At ones very being.

    But the Spirit of Justice refuses to cave in. Even wedged into the ground to support her Resolute Blade responds to the clenching, the blade beginning to glow as it resonates with her will. The will to fight for what is right and needs to be done.

"No.. enough of this." Athela resteels her determination, pulling the weapon from the ground and standing. "You are not the king that was intended, only a monster taken his form to cast darkness and paranoia amongst his following. This we shall not allow!"

    Both hands tightly around the hilt of her divine weapon as she raised it. Resolute Blade resonated with both spirit and magic, shimmering brightly as elemental energy channeled through the ancient sword, waterly swirls begining to churn around it. Then the young knight was off, barreling across the field of combat with only one objective in mind. She wound back with the empowered weapon and a burst of water in her wake boosting the young knight like a jet and launching her towards the Moogle King of Nothingness. "The Tides of Justice wash thou corruption away from this land!"

    With the final battle cry Athela comes in swinging, unleashing a barrage of Water infused blows upon the Primal entity, crashing again and again like unrelenting waves in a raging storm.

Inga has posed:
Inga gasps as the vision takes her, shuddering with the terrible power of it. "On your guard!" she screams, and throws up a ward around herself quickly, the air humming with the power of her anima as it surges around her, protecting her from the horrible nothingness that sought to tear the soul from her body.

Gaia plays the Nope card.

When it is done, Inga is left standing and untouched, glowing with power. Those around her were not so lucky. Inga frowns, tossing her blood toward those most injured, trying to heal them enough to keep them alive and in this fight.

But maybe its best if she just tries to finish this.

Inga plants her staff before her, sheathing her knife to hold it with two hands as she begins to channel massive amounts of anima. The runs carved all along it's length burst into a brilliant blue-white light. The air around Inga crackles, her hair rising, electricity sparking from the tips of her fingernails. "THOR! LEND ME YOUR POWER!" she yells as a lightning storm explodes from her, thunder shaking the ground, bolt after bolt of lightning aimed to hammer Moggle Mog back to the realm from wence he came.

Tomoe has posed:
Tomoe is about to find out that, there's the sense of fear that she knows somehow they have messed up. Then comes the proof in the form of Memento Moogle. The t dark magic passes through her and well kicks the everloving hell out of Tomoe even for her she feels if she's forced back but she endures it a lot better than some of the otehr warrios here do no small thanks to the help from Inga as she starts to recover after the spell fades.

"...You ... want to rip me aparT?! BETTER THAN YOU HAVE TRIED AND SOME OF THEM WERE NOTHING MORE THAN SOULLESS AUTOMATONS!"

Tomoe's wings flare out her blade catches with white fire, it's not Excalibur but a copy of it, even though it's a copy it still has a power of its own and she'll dive bomb at King intending it embed her sword into him.

N'raha Tia has posed:
    Awwww jeez. All that Nothing, all of that endless yawning Lovecraftian nonsense and they're all still alive. Whatever Moggle Mog is seems perturbed, and He starts to castigate the party for still being mostly upright... when they all lash out at Him.

    And it's not even close on this one. The giant Primal tries to stop the incoming attacks, but, everything, the slashing Sky Attack, the awful Norse overkill, the gawing biting, the rushing tsunami of swords, Not-Excalibur, and the overhand cleaving strikes from N'raha...

    The King lets out a baleful, warbling 'kupo' before starting to vanish into motes of aether, literally boiling away into magic as His body comes apart. And just as quickly as he was called forth, Good King Moggle Mog, Twelfth of His Name, Kupo is No More.

    Though, the Mogglesguard isn't here either. They've all skedaddled at some point. Probably while all y'all were busting the King open.

    Raha staggers up to his feet, blood dripping from somewhere under his chest plate and shuffles over to the rest. "...And that." He flips up his visor. "Is how you handle a Primal."

Count Kord has posed:
    Kord is sprawled on the ground. He's giggling to himself, but he's not really moving. "Great fun," he wheezes out.

    Yep. His mood is currently 'Cloud Nine.'

Mortimer Balman has posed:
     Mort pants a bit while slowly rising to his feet. Which is not a good idea as much as he's bleeding, but dumb jarheads are built on macho bullshit, after all. "Yeah... Cool.. So, who the Hell are you, what is a Primal, and why did Kord lure me here to help kill it, exactly? I just wanna know before I beat Kord until he's mortal again."

N'raha Tia has posed:
    "It's a." The catman winces, and shuffles a Potion out of his pockets to chug. "Mmmmh. There. It's a manifestation of belief and faith, called forth by willing individuals in the presence of a great amount of localized aether... that goes around brainwashing people and sucking aether out of the land to maintain itself."
    Raha claps Mortimer on the shoulder. "And you helped kill it. Bravo." He yanks his helmet off, and... oh. That's not good. One of his ears is drooping and not coming up. He tchs, and waits for Inga.

Inga has posed:
All the lightning discharged, the baleful glow around the seeress dims. She watches as Moggle Mog becomes no more with a look of quiet satisfaction on her face. There is no cocky one-liners or triumphant poses. Just a soft, sly smile before she returns to the tasks at hand. There is a fairly large number of people bleeding, and thus her work is not over.

She looks to N'raha, frowning deeply at the blood seeping out from beneath his chestplate. She points at him. "Get that off and then I'll take a look," she says, judging that Kord is probably the most injured--though it's close. "You're next," she informs Athela, giving her a no nonsese healer's look. "And then you--so you will just have to restrain yourself a little longer," she then tells Mort.

Inga leans on her staff and kneels beside the delirious Kord. Unbelievable, she actually has to open a few wound in her arm in order to get the blood needed for her healing. She dips her fingers into the blood as it beads up on her inner arm and leans over to draw a rune in blood on Kord's chest. A warm, sweet sensation would sing through him, kicking his natural healing into overdrive.

"Well I am glad the two of you showed up, even if you didn't know what you were doing here," she can't help but chuckle.

Count Kord has posed:
    "Ohh, blood magic," Kord notices, slowly pushing himself to a proper sit. He puffs painfully, and shakes his head a couple times to get the sense back into it. Then he looks over toward Mortimer and closes one of his eyes, and just smiles over at him. "It was a noble cause," he tells the badger. "And I understand Pokemon gods do this to you regularly anyways. It seemed like a fun idea."

    Smug just radiates off of him... but not malice. He doesn't seem to get how rude this was.

Athela Valemore has posed:
    "Their belief was strong enough to summon an image of their legendary King... but it was a corruption of the ideal they were mislead into creating."

    After that Athela pants a few times, though waiting until the Primal Mog has diffused completely before she finally turns and sheaths her divine sword. "I still believe they did not mean harm initially, but wanted to protect themselves... And certain parties manipulated this to their own dark intentions."

    She just... stares for a moment at Kord. And yet, isn't entirely surprised. He is the Legendary of Destruction after all. This was probably 'fun' to him. It's followed by another sigh, which makes her wince as she remembers she's been wounded in the side, not to mention that terrible metaphysical feeling from the ethereal emptiness. She looks to N'Raha. "What are the chances the Scions can find the rest of the Moogleguard before they try this again?"

Tomoe has posed:
Tomoe see the battle is over the King is down she hears the last Kupo as it explodes into the ether. She notes "The King is dead long live the King."

She'll relax now a bit as she regains her balance, cleans her blade and puts it away. She feels this urge almost to strike a pose and gives in after a moment. A lingering influence of the Bard most likely.

"Err we're going to need to help Kord out of here, won't we? Err know any good places to eat N'Raha after a fight like that I'm Hungry."

N'raha Tia has posed:
    The Warrior of Light grunts, as he concentrates a moment, his armor falling away in a rush of magic, to reveal his tunic underneath, with several seeping magical wounds on it, that are already closing up thanks to the Potion.
    "Hnnng. We're all going to Momodi's Quicksand in Ul'dah. My treat." A glance at Mort and Kord. "Though keep yourself Roedygan sized if you can."

Inga has posed:
"Yes, people seem to either get very nervous or excited about it--not sure how I feel about either reaction honestly," she replies to his 'ouu blood magic'.

Once she's got a couple of healing spells into Kord, she moves on to Athela, who gets a shimmering crimson bubble that will continue healing her over a few minutes, and some bandages from her bag if her wounds wound benefit.

Mort gets the same treatment, if he'll allow it. And he will if he doesn't want to get into a fight about it. Her looks says 'fight me'.

N'raha is last, only because she knows he heals well and he can take it. Finally she motions for him to sit, throws a spell at him, then examines his ear gently to make sure its in the right position before she gets to healing it. "How did this even happen," she grumbles.

At the offer to go to the Quicksand, Inga shrugs. She could eat she supposes.

Mortimer Balman has posed:
     Who does Inga think Mort is? He's not going to deny free healing, though she might find it oddly difficult to heal him. Something about his body seems.. Kinda stubborn about being patched up by an external force. Very strange. But there's some effect, at least.

     The massive wolf paws at the ground, looking for the remains of its prey. It takes several moments for its hackles to go down, for its teeth to disappear back behind its mouth. Mort will swing himself up onto the beast, and motion for the others. "C'mon. No sense walking when we can ride, aye? Except you Kord, you get to fucking walk."

Athela Valemore has posed:
Athela Valemore accepts the bandades with a nod. "Thank you." Then turns aside for a moment so her cloak maintains modesty while she moves her armor enough to apply them to worst of her wounds in her side, where that Moogle's knives managed to get through her light armor. The magic should take care of most in time, but she doesn't want to accidentally make the wounds worse in the meantime. "A meal to celebrate victory sounds like a fine idea."

Count Kord has posed:
    "Fair enough," Kord says, airly, and he starts for home. As for Inga's words on Blood Magic, he tells her, "To me, it's a novelty. Rarely used where I'm from. An art for spirit mediums." He takes flight, apparently able to do so even when pretty injured. He's a legendary bird-dragon, it'd be a cold day in hell when he gets grounded properly. Though he could probably be knocked down by a deftly thrown shoe right now.

Inga has posed:
Inga looks over toward the giant wolf. Well, it's less terrifying than a car, but she's not sure how she'll get up there, or hold on for that matter. "Ah...I believe I may actually just go home...well fought everyone. Come to see me if your wounds don't heal fully," she says, then reaches into her pocket for her Agartha conduit. She flashes Raha an apologetic smile before she disappears in a flash of amber light.