2414/WoS: Cold Front - Ramuh's Dome

WoS: Cold Front - Ramuh's Dome
Date of Scene:	08 June 2015
Location:	Galianda
Synopsis:	The Shivans knock on Ramuh's door, intending to breach a dome city and force them to retreat further. Many defenders assist Ramuh, and Tarl the Axe is captured.
Cast of Characters:	Staren, Bahamut, 626, 633, 642, 666, Lyria Mason, 675, 766, 804
Tinyplot:	Warlords of Shiva‎

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Landon al Cid (642) has posed:
     SHIVA

     It's cold.

     It's always cold on the continent of Shiva. The Plate is ice, all the way through. The howling winds carry with them driving snowfalls that build up into drifts, which arch across the landscape like the dunes of a pale-white desert, or the twisting path of an angry serpent. The plants stretch upwards for any scrap of warmth they can find, reaching their roots into the sky and away from the frigid ground. The beasts huddle together, moving in packs so that their fur is shared between them. The people of Shiva are a hard lot, used to the freezing temperature of their homeland, and they have bundled well today.

     But that isn't the cold that's important.

     No, the cold that's important this night is a spiritual chill, a chill that is seeped into the bones of all Humes. It is a chill that has settled over Shiva as the old-model tanks of the Shivan Confederation have rolled along the snowdrifts, with their chain-wrapped treads and their iron sighs, and their spotters forced into the chillng winds wrapped tight in furs and plastics. It is a chill that has wound its way from the upper part of the plate, where the once-wild warlords have come together under the vision of a madman, down towards the cities of the Domes, where the once-wild brutes have come together under foreign rule to find some peace from the struggle for survival. It is a chill that has crept up in the night and swept over the landscape, a chill that even the beasts and the plants know deep within themselves, and fear.

     The chill of death rolls through Shiva as the tanks, as the metal walkers, as the tamed Yeti and the master-Gunners, as the columns upon columns of soldiers march side-by-side under a flag with a scarred wolf's head, overlaid with a great axe.

     They have been marching all night for Myridia. It is the newest of the Ramuhan Domepoli, constructed closest to the wild ice mountains, and, in the rhetoric of Harald Wolf-Lord, a symbol of the encroaching Ramuhan conquest. It is the ambition of Tarl the Axe, Harald Wolf-Lord's right-hand man, to conquer it.

     The Ramuhan forces have not taken this march lying down. A large detachment of advanced magitech walkers, of well-armed and armored soldiers with all manner of weaponry, and of top-of-the-line jets and tanks streak overhead.

     The silence is palpable as the two armies face off. Each side knows where the other stands. No one wants to be the one to take the first shot. No one wants to be the one to make the first move. As they look across the snow-covered gap, the wind howling around them, the same thought runs through all of their souls.

     It's cold.

     And then, as the clouds part, ever so briefly, and the light of great Phoenix shines down upon them, Tarl the Axe raises his signature weapon, and a cry rips across the battlefield.

     "FOR SHIVAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

     And the battle is joined.

Landon al Cid (642) has posed:
     And the battle is joined. The irregular forces of Shiva charge, blazing bolts of sizzling light whipping back and forth as spells and Magitech Cannons open fire. The initial charge is the one that the legends are told about...and where most of the dying begins.

     Those on the side of Ramuh have been told to hold Myridia's dome against the foot troops trying to enter the city proper. They are the guardians at the gates, standing tall against the barbarian horde as walls made to hold off giant monsters and frigid weather are tested against...dedicated firepower.

     Tarl the Axe himself leads the charge. A hulking brute of a man, he is Harald Wolf-Lord's right hand, surrounded by more hulking brutes of men. Capturing him would be a feather in the cap of anyone, and severely warp the chain of command of the Shivan irregular forces. Failing that, breaking the morale of the Shivan troops may be enough.

     The Ramuhans have provided firepower. They have provided massive magitech weaponry and walkers for those able to use them, heavy guns and tanks alike available for their forces. There is a firm coordination here, as they open fire under the command of their leader, the first and only Prince. As those assisting Ramuh, you can choose to defend the walls, counterattack, or attempt to take the fight directly to Tarl.

Project MORDRED (804) has posed:
Among the troops gathered to defend the Ramuhan outpost, just ahead of a pack of magitech walkers, stands Glare-NT, a fifteen foot tall anthropomorphic black warmachine. The heraldic design on the Armour's chest includes the classic symbols for Earth, Venus and Mars. A single addition marks it as the device of the eldest son of the titleholder under traditional English heraldry. Project MORDRED has sided with the Ramuhan's, a mostly mercenary choice.

He waits for enemies to approach closer, the XTE Lancepack hold under his Armour's arm, steadied by pressing it against the side, emitting small amounts of heat near the tip as it collects gas from the surrounding area to convert to plasma. Beyond readiness, he's standing still like a statue, no movement can be seen as he stares down the enemy. Waiting.

When the Shivans charge, and Glare-NT stands, the XTE Lancepack's tip rapidly heating up, gathering energy to fire a jet of superheated plasma as soon as the first enemies get within firing range. He is a Knight, he will hold the line as long as possible.

Bahamut has posed:
     Cold. It is not something that Bahamut is used to encountering. And with the metal plates that form his armored hide, it is made even worse. But, the great dragon king is not one to show his suffering of such things. Given his size, Bahamut volunteered to take the spot of vanguard for the Ramuhan walkers.

     It is a position that the metal dragon is quite familiar with. The forces of the Al Bhed are often mechanized. He almost feels at home among them. As the enemy troops close in, Bahamut growls deeply, spreads his wings, and bares his talons. "We shall not let these warlords destroy this fine civilization your people have created!" Bahamut bellows, then starts forward, his large strides covering generous amounts of terrain, and his heavy frame creating a slight rumble when his feet hit the ground.

     Shots, both large and small, smash into Bahamut as he charges, leaving charred marks and bleeding cracks in his armored hide. He roars to help him ignore the pain, and raises his hands to cast a spell. "Gravija!" He casts the grushing gravity sphere into the middle of the enemy ranks. It manifests as a black-purple sphere of energy that compresses downward, compressing the troops within it beneath several times the natural gravity of the world.

Ellard Asha (766) has posed:
This. This is so much more than fighting nightmare golems. This is fighting men. Men who want something, men who feel fear, desparation, cold, hunger. Men led by other men into this situation. Ellard pulls his tower shield off his back and secures it onto his arm, gripping it tightly. Men who want to live. Men who aren't satisfied.

Ellard's hair holds a flashy neon green highlight today, and his tower shield holds a mark of the Ramuhan army. The cold here is not new to Ellard. In fact, this place is more beautiful than Odin. So much life. The cold has a beauty of its own. It's not desolation. It's not the stygian cold of hell. It's ice. Water. Life. Things adapt and live. They don't fight against the land itself. They learn to live.

Leather gloved fingers grip the straps of the tower shield, tightening, tugging at the strap. A great spear is offered to Ellard. Something to take advantage of his strength and shield. Ellard looks at it. He stares at the end of it, the blade that will pierce flesh, draw the life force, spill blood.

Coward.

Ellard walls that feeling away by plastering a big goofy grin on his face. "I don't need that." He sets his eyes on Tarl. Take down the leader. Least amount of blood. Break the morale. Negotiations. Consensus. Peace. "I have a shield." Ellard charges free of the line, tower shield in front of him, hand bracing it as he hurtles across the snow.

Cirra Constantine (675) has posed:
    The Judges are the right hands of the al Cid dynasty, men and women not just trained, but raised for excellence. Not only is Cirra Constantine Prince Landon al Cid's right hand woman, she is also a Shivan this gives her advantadges over non natives.

    "Do not engage Confederacy troops in poor visibility, or in deep snow. It will only play to their strengths." She's wearing some light furs to complete her judge armor, just to keep the wind out, the cold doesn't bother her as much as a normal person.

    Cirra summons her Law Blade, the crystal forming in her grip into a long sword and she hunkers down. When the charge begins, Cirra holds still. The Shivan tanks are older, and have a shorter firing range then the Ramuh model SP8-Sleipnir tank. Once the Shivans are in range of those tanks they open fire, and thats when Cirra moves, under cover of cannon fire.

    In this environment, Constantine is a wicked sight to behold, somehow running full tilt over snow without sinking barely and inch into it with each step. The Judge's sword slices through enemy troops as she jumps acrobatically, moving through the battlefield like a wraith.

Lyria Mason has posed:
Shiva is cold, it's always been cold but Lyria was a Geomancer so she was able to deal with it better than otehrs from her plate. Still she'd dressed for the weather still, and this is the most covered anyone would have seen of her and it's cold weather armour. She's armed for trouble her drones are all here and her mother Yoko has turned Serpent Tail shipping assests to the aid of the Prince's forces. Though she's made request for some 'salvage' rights on things if she's caught up in the fighting.

Lyria on the other hand is here and lookng to fight, she's debating suiting up in Remora at this point for all the protection and firepower it could bring her.

Too late now the enemy is here and she's moving to follow after Cirra. She's going bounding along her self firing shots form both of her pistols, or turning the very element of ice against the enemy as she goes.

Staren has posed:
    The Shivan Confederation wants a fight?

    Staren is ready to give them one. It must be made clear, set as an example to all, that attempted tyranny gets you smacked down HARD.

    Staren isn't here, at first, he's waiting nearby. Some camera drones among the Ramuhan line watch, waiting. And seconds after they charge...

    There's a sonic boom as something flies to the field at over mach 2, then rapidly stops (concerns about g-forces are for squishy meat bodies), transforming in a blur of countless tiny parts into a gleaming metal humanoid over forty feet tall. Before it even lands, it's already opened fire, a railgun in its right arm spraying a hail of hypersonic metal at the Shivan vehicles. "TYRANTS! WARMONGERS!" Staren's voice bellows from the speakers. Staren is torn between the knowledge that talking NEVER WORKS, and the need to say something. "Abandon your quest of bloodthirsty subjugation, or DIE!"

Kyra Hyral (626) has posed:
    Kyra Hyral, as has been established before the whole of Galianda, /does what she wants/.

    She stands atop the walls, not on the front lines defending, but behind them, the CURE-ALL at the ready. She's more encumbered in materials than usual, knowing the kind of output she'd need to provide to handle an actual war. In fact, her experiences in Eorzea did help her out in this regard, from months ago, to prepare her for the sheer amount of chaos that happens during a large-scale battle. It also impressed upon her the understanding that she couldn't possibly help /everyone/.

    As she scans out, her goggles have special HUD markings on them to tell her where the other Light Warriors are-and thanks to this, she's treated to Ellard running into the advancing Shivans. "...well fuck."

Soan Sagittarius (633) has posed:
     It's kinda hard to /not/ be part of this. They did offer Landon help on this, their support. He just never expected to have to fight a war against other humes this early in his life. Destroying Chaos-spawns are one thing, but facing other people under the command of a crazy madman, is another thing entierly.

     If he is going to help like this, Soan figured he would do it all the way. Instructing the Ramuhan forces at the dome, he laid out several places as 'no access' or 'if you can, lure the enemy in'. The several traps he laid at key places are set to go off at ensaring human-sized combatants, delaying them. Pitfalls, some ensaring nets, the occassional shock. They will not last, or even do very much against large mechanized units, but against on-foot assailant...

     Soan, himself, is along with the rest of his fellow Light Warriors, covered from head to toe in full winter gear. Perhaps, even overding it a little on that department. He had plans, you know. Go around, try to sneak it, grab a Shivan mech and wreck some havoc. Ellard charges in.

     Beneath his googles, Soan looks at Kyra with his lifted eyebrows, shrugs. "Stick close, we'll back him up. We've got to grab the head of this."

     Then, hiding himself in the thousand snowflakes kicked up in the battle, Soan stalks Ellard -- and watches his back in the means of smacking people going at him.

Mirielle Edelweiss (666) has posed:
    The role of the Alexander Academy students in this battle was... Well.

    Was to be students. Civilians. To let the soldiers do the fighting and the dying. Divines know, they were the ones skilled in those arts, of fighting other people, expected to lay down their lives for Freedom, Justice, and the Ramuhan Way.

    Why Mirielle was on the wall that day, peering over a parapet and generally trying to keep her head down next to Kyra, was anyone's guess. Including, well, Mirielle's.

    Bundled up in furs and Ramuhan military gear, the bespectacled girl sighs deeply, as the battle is truly joined. Dourly, she looks to Kyra. "While it was three to one actual fighting would occur today, I had hoped we would have the statistically unlikely outcome." She grumbles, rubbing her face with her hands.

    "Why am I here, again?"

    As she lets her hands fall, she finds, scribbled on her palms in her own handwriting... Because Triple PE Credits

    "Ugh. Right. That's right. So, uh, Kyra. Beyond going down to strengthen the wards with, and I quote, 'creepy dark stuff', what should /we/ do?"

Landon al Cid (642) has posed:
     The Glare-NT cuts a proud vision through the driving snow. At first, many of the Shivans likely imagine it to be some sort of new-model magitech walker. But the sleekness, the futuristic elements of its design, and the fierce and otherworldly heraldry convinces them otherwise. And if that wasn't enough, the superheated plasma beam that lances forth certainly does - it rips through the snow on the ground and in the air alike, melting it as easily as it melts through frontline warriors. Several men burst into flames - a testament to how mighty they are that they don't die instantly. A painful testament, too, for they die mere moments later, their charred remains still moving towards their foes. MORDRED has no time to enjoy it; a heavy-looking Magitech Walker, as if cobbled together from scrap-iron and scrap parts, moves towards him at speeds faster than its size and bulk should allow, bearing an axe like a hunk of metal as big as the Glare-NT stapled to a hilt. The 'axe' swings upwards, all weight and power, and comes down like a bolt of thunder.

     The appearance of BAHAMUT on the field shakes a number of the Shivans on its own. It is a known fact that the Dragons are holy creatures, and a Dragon supporting the Ramuhan forces seems a sign from the gods themselves that Harald's actions are doomed. But with a rallying cry from a savvy lieutenant, they are reminded: the al Cids are not the chosen of the gods. The Dragons do not come to aid them. This is an outworlder trick. That does little for those crushed into oblivion by the Gravity Sphere, doomed to be part of the snowy landscape forever, but it rallies several Shivans with long lances and heavy picks. They hurl the lances picks at the dragon, backed by inhuman strength and burning with fire magic, aiming for his soft eyes and his underbelly.

     ELLARD takes his shield and drives forward, charging into the deep snows. In the no-man's land between armies his bravery is met by one of Tarl's hulking bodyguards, a bare-chested berserker painted all in blues and whites. He meets Ellard's charge bare-handed with a massive haymaker, swinging it down towards the shieldbearer's head with the force of a train. A wild froth whips at his lips. A Berserker. Of course.

     CIRRA, The Lady Judge, moves through the snow as if she had never left. She is a predator, a great beast of the glaciers, racing over the snowdrifts like lightning. With her Law Blade in hand, she meets the first regiment and she carves into them under the thunder of cannons, the THUMP-THUMP-THUMP timed to the bodies as they hit the snow. They barely know what hit them. But, alongside them, an old-model tank swings its gun barrel towards her, and power charges in its barrel. Suddenly, with a discharge like a bomb, a shrapnelstorm of ice comes flying at the Lady Judge, ready to take her head off.

Landon al Cid (642) has posed:
     STAREN flies over the battlefield with a Ramuhan Jet Contingent, booming his message of peace through superior firepower down on the Shivans as he fires his railgun into several of the tanks. He's right - peace through superior firepower never works. Though none of the cannons turn upwards, one of the jet pilots hails him with a warning: "Look out, sir! Wyverns!" And indeed, moments later, the great white beasts, ridden by bare-chested madmen, come howling out of the snowstorm. They plunge at Staren's armor, claws scraping, tails slashing, as their riders discharge onto his mech, satchels wrapped over their naked chests.

     KYRA stands ready to save as many as she can. Like so many other nurses, her nobility is well-acknowledged; grateful wounded, carted to her from the opening charge, thank her profusely with a smile. Some of them thank her as they go to meet their gods, and they, too are smiling. But when a shot rings out from the battlefield and nearly takes her head off, it becomes obvious that simply being a healer will not be enough to protect her. A second shot rings out, the metal bounding off the dome's wall and sticking in the snowdrift with dreadful accuracy. A sniper has her number.

     SOAN creeps along with Ellard, and is met with the same massive Berserker. Fortunately for Soan, amidst the roaring battlefield, he goes unnoticed - as Ellard draws the man's attention, the thief has an all-too-good opening.

     MIRIELLE more or less has the back row all to herself, along with several other Ramuhan supporters. Buff magic flies all over the place, supporting the front lines with Hastes, with Shields, with Reflects - whatever they can spare. There's an orderliness to it, a pulse that Mirielle can easily co-opt and guide where it most needs to go; she can read the beat within seconds, and it's all too obvious where they're not using their spells best...

     TARL laughs and waves his axe as his irregulars crash against the forces of Ramuh. "WE ARE SHIVA!" He cries, "WE DO NOT SURRENDER TO THE LAND, AND WE DO NOT SURRENDER TO MAN! WE ARE SHIVA! SHIVA IS STRONG!"

     The cry is picked up, bolstering the Shivan forces. A dim glow fills the air as Bards in each group take up the War Chant, and drums begin to ring out through the field.

Bahamut has posed:
     Bahamut was hoping to use the reaction he saw in Galienda against the troops here, and it seems it worked. To an extent. Nothing battle changing, but it was useful for taking out the first lines of attackers. When those fiery lances come flying toward him, Bahamut quickly brings his arms up and his wings around, protecting his most vulnerable areas.

     It works, keeping his eyes from being hit and his belly from being pierced, but of course his wings and arms are struck. The Aeon of Bevelle growls heavily as a few of those lances lodge themselves in his body. One in an arm, one in a wing, and one that punches through his feathery plumage and hits his heavily armored chest. His blood flows bright red, and with a roar he pulls the lances from his body, the wounds being seared by the fiery magic. It has been a while since the King of Dragons felt such pain...

     But, for an Aeon like him, pain is a source of energy. The gyro on his back has started spinning faster and faster, and has gained a bright, holy glow. From in front of him, it might look like he has gained a halo. But, he still needs a bit more power before he can unleash his most devastating attack. So, for now, he charges those lancers, tearing into them with talons as long as swords, backed by the strength of a freight train.

Project MORDRED (804) has posed:
Such a massive weapon is sure to be unwieldy, but MORDRED noticed it too late to respond properly. Instead, he drops his longarm and steps forwards, drawing his Monifilament Broadsword, pushing the thin edge forward as he takes the large axe on a shoulder. The enemy weapon cutting through a layer of thick armour and mildly damaging the mechanical joint below. This does not stop him from speeding up his infeasibly sharp blade, trying to tear open the walker that has chosen to face him and immobilize it.

Another step forward sees Glare-NT kick up the weapon he just dropped, magnetic tools re-attaching the XTE Lancepack to his back. Another swing of his monofilament broadsword follows, the motions executed with mechanical precision. It's clear whatever brings Glare-NT to move knows how to handle himself in this kind of fight. The next step is joined by the thrusters in his feet, falling back rapidly to return to near his original position as he re-examines the battlefield, performing rapid calculations to prepare his next move.

Staren has posed:
    <<Thank you>> Staren transmits in response to the warning. To Tarl, he booms, "YOU ARE TYRANTS! YOUR STRENGTH WILL FALL TO THOSE WHO /PROTECT/ OTHERS!" His mouth is half-running on automatic, really. Focused on the battle as he is... as the wyverns attack him, the Star Hawk shifts, to a plane-with-arms-and-chicken-legs form, which swipes at the wyverns, but before Staren can figure out how best to attack him, people are /climbing on/.

    Nope.

    The arms and legs fold into the body and the Star Hawk flies /up/, as fast as it can, rapidly accelerating towards mach 2... at least, as far as it needs to go for the riders to fall off, anyway...

Cirra Constantine (675) has posed:
    The bodies hit the snow floor as Cirra carves through troops. It's a fascinating display, if you're into studying how to kill people as quickly as possible. The sound of the tank's turret traversing however intterupts her in mid slash, and she grabs a hapless Shivan trooper and swings herself around him, the blast of ice ripping apart the human shield. It slows her down.

    The shivan Judge leaps out from behind her shield and rushes the tank, getting right under the main gun's minium engagment arc. She jumps up and grabs hold of the tank barrel, spinning over it as her sword transforms.

    *SHINK* *SHINK*

    Two knife like blades of crystal fire at the tank's spotter, and Cirra releases her grip from the tank barrel, leaping into the air to come down on the other side of the turrets where she drops a fire crystal on to the tanks engine.

    In five seconds it explodes.

Soan Sagittarius (633) has posed:
     This is a perfect opportunity for Soan. Dangerous, sure, this is reckless as all heck. Still, it would have been worse to leave the younger student charging head-on first into the mass against Berserker two heads taller than him alone. Shadowing a juggernaut plowing through enemy forces is not a new thing, anyway. It is a common strategy with him and Kamon. Ellard might not be as familiar with it than the other Odynari is.

     In their wake, Soan makes meticulous care to leave 'presents' for the people that think it would be a great idea close up behind him, as they are likely to do. In this case: roaring explosives that do more kinetic charge to knock the opposition away than causing real, true harm. Hopefuly by bowling into each others, they're going to cause themselves harm just as easily. Ignoring the fire, anyway.

     Soan, not leaving the shadows, strike at the Berserker assaulting Ellard. It is harsh, precise strikes with his sword: aimed at the knees at first, following up with a strike at the arms, anything to help Ellard's passage through the frontlines.

     They've got a target to get to.

Ellard Asha (766) has posed:
Fighting against someone stronger and bigger than you isn't easy. Especially when you are fighting outside of your depth, in the snow. The fist connects with the steel shield with a resound smashing, picking Ellard up and off his feet. He twists slightly, allowing himself land in snow he hasn't plowed through yet. His shield now bends slightly in the middle and Ellard can feel every muscle in his arm. Ow.

He turns his head up. Air support. He looks around. Machine support. Where are they getting this all. Ellard turns his head back. Overwhelming odds. He turns back. But if they don't stop this now, then what. How far will they go.

Ellard grinds his iron molars. He forces himself up to his feet, putting his sturdy boots underneath him. "This isn't right." He says, mostly to himself. Then he draws in a lungful of breath, "THIS ISN'T RIGHT!"

"BACKDRAFT!"

Flame erupt from the shield, cascading back into Ellard, drenching him in heat as he uses it to melt the snow, pushing around to one side of the bodyguard, using his shield out to the side to power forward through the snow along the other side.

Blood flies, Ellard realizes, from Soan. By the spirits be damned, by the spirits be damned, by the spirits be damned, he doesn't want this!

"BACKDRAFT!" More heat cascades over Ellard.

Lyria Mason has posed:
Lyria Mason knows things are just going to be going insane here and she's going to do what she can even as the battle is raging she's trying to keep up with Cira. She's busy dealing with some of the enemy infantry and then hte tank shows up to try and take out Cirra. She's about to act but there seems. She hears the leader's ranting over the tacnet and grimaces even as she fights.

The Man was insane and only hungered for carnage. She now sees the tank that Cirra is dealing with the tank. She meahwhile starts going after other infanty turning the very land against them, ice would shift and alter disrupting the terrain under htier feet and brutal winds would blow. Even for Shiva as she aqlso rained magitek shots into their ranks.

Mirielle Edelweiss (666) has posed:
    Mirielle glances out, as the battle lines shift, pulling out a notebook and starting to take down numbers. "Mmmh. Not good. Their unit cohesion is excellent. I can't..." She peers out, squinting. "I can't see if they've got a support corps. Strategically, we should focus on force multiplication. We have powerful weapons platforms in the Magitek units, but the enemy seems to have a number of advantages... Can you-?" Mirielle begins, the numbers filling her calculator head, rendering many factors into simple numbers, points of data, standard deviations...

    And sniper rounds. Mirielle finds her way to the ground expediently, her voluminous and padded snow clothing making her not eat wall as hard.

    The Sniper aiming for Kyra simply proves her point, with a nice high-calibur tac-mark like an ordered list.

    Holding both hands out, she forces magic into a barrier pattern. "Shield mages, front and center! This isn't a battle that you idiots can fight with swords." Mirielle growls darkly, reaching over to shove a barrier-mage between her and Kyra and the wall, only dropping HER shield when HIS is up. "That's why we have staffs! Which means we fight a battle of /numbers/." She continues to growlmutter. She spends a moment glancing over the wall, at the battle raging and the forces clashing and people being struck and striking. She presses her glasses up her nose. "I'm not going to die here, not even for triple credits."

    Then she starts moving. "Group up into threes, by spell. Barrier mages, pair up." She starts hollering, a little frail Ramuhan girl yelling at people twice her size, and probably at least half again her age. "Barrier mages are half-on, half-off, so we can keep that up all the time, and support mages should ripple-cast to maximize pattern uptimes."

    She moves to a group of support magi. "If you see anyone making an incursion, buff the crap out of them, and anyone retreating gets healing priority. This is a numbers game! Numbers..." She starts muttering darkly to herself.

    "I am not some big damn hero... Why aren't there any Judges on the wall? This doesn't add up... Their forces shouldn't be /this/ effective... What's wrong with my math?"

Kyra Hyral (626) has posed:
    After passing her advice to Mirielle over the radio, Kyra peeks her head up while applying a tourniquet to a severed arm. She squints, spotting the steadily-moving dots representing Soan and Ellard on her goggles. Catching up would be difficult to do-

tShe hears the first bullet zoom by, then the second, which sounds even closer than the previous. "HEALER AGGRO!" she shouts to those in her immediate vicinity before dropping down low onto her belly on the wall.Perhaps to her surprise, Mirielle YELLS a mage into cover. "Great. Yes. You, come with me, I need to move." He grabs the assigned mage and drags her down with her, descending from the wall. "YOU'RE DOIN' GREAT, MIRIELLE!" Kyra shouts back, wanting to encourage the Calculator's sudden show of backbone. "Keep it up!"

    The CURE-ALL is shoved onto her back, traded out for a high-powered rifle stocked with darts. A syringe is worked free of one of her bandoliers and jabbed into the vein along the left inside of her forearm, injecting her own brand of a short-lived Haste substitute. The empty syringe is tossed aside.

    Before moving on, she clenches a fist, "PROTECTGA!" and spreads the beneficial white magic to herself and the Ramuha troops lucky enough to be around her. Buffed and loaded, Kyra darts into the bedlam, moving to catch up with Ellard and Soan.

Landon al Cid (642) has posed:
     TARL's forces are bolstered not only by the War Cry but by some ephemeral dark force. The rag-tag group of forces suddenly seems less rag-tag, less disorganized. They fight with a sudden burst of organized ferocity, an almost supernatural direction from on high. Are they touched by some dark god? Perhaps. Tarl himself gains the attention of the Ramuhan forces, a salvo of magitech cannons crashing into the ground near Ellard and Soan. Tarl takes this as a personal challenge, charging directly into the fusillade. The impact shatters the ground, ice splitting upwards as Tarl leaps into one of the Walkers and shears the leg in half. The machine comes tumbling down; Tarl bares his axe and seeks another challenge.

     BAHAMUT roars, charging power. A halo of light burns in the snow around him, furiously and ominously. The Shivans are not, by nature, a superstitious people, but they are a xenophobic people, and their anger is quick to burn. Combined with that strange dark magic, a few of them manage to evade being ripped to pieces with those sword-like claws, but many are not so lucky. They come apart at Bahamut's hands like dolls, bits of them scattered to the winds. But beyond, a tank rolls forward, rising in front of the dragon king - and as its power charges, a Cannonneer hits the ground next to it, firing a heavy magical bazooka. The explosive missile streams for Bahamut's mouth as the tank deploys a large-scale Reflect spell, covering troops behind it.

     MORDRED finds his foe delighted by the damage. This may be his mistake. In celebrating the paper-cut, he celebrates too early. The blade tears through part of its armor, carving open the cockpit and narrowly missing the man inside. The Shivan's eyes widen under his helmet in shock and awe as the Glare-NT runs, but only for a brief instant. Dedicated to pursuit, the Walker picks up a broken tank's cannon and plows ahead, firing a blast of magical energy at the high-tech machine.

     STAREN transforms, which knocks a few of his riders off all on their own. But the dark force takes hold of them, and they shift and twist, their patterns warping as they reveal their true Jobs. Hands become great claws, digging into the jet; fur washes over them as great horns appear, transforming his ride-alongs into Yetis. As he climbs higher and higher into the aerial dogfight, knocking off several of the Yeti Morphers, a grinning face appears outside his cockpit, baring great fangs at him. It rears back its head and prepare to smash its way in.

Landon al Cid (642) has posed:
     CIRRA destroys a tank with two knife-like blades and a fire crystal. It goes up in flames, burning into the sky. Around her, the tank's guardian crew picks itself up out of the snow, suddenly seized by the black force that's taken them all. They jerk upwards like puppets, lifting spears and knives and guns, and charge and fire upon the Judge with ruthless efficiency, moving to pin her down with bullets and then tear her head off with melee weaponry.

     SOAN's traps are slowing down the enemy, but it quickly becomes apparent that they're fielding Hunters who can pick out many of his tricks. Bow-wielding and gun-wielding enemies stop before a lot of his tripwires and bombs, waving enemies around them or disarming them with brutal force. But his dagger drives into the knee of the furious Berserker, slicing open his hamstring, then one of his arms. The Berserker roars in fury, swatting at Soan with one massive hand. Like most Berserkers, the angrier he gets, the stronger he gets - and Soan has made him very, very angry.

     ELLARD takes full advantage of that anger He crashes into the man with his furious BACKDRAFT, hammering into him with burning heat and burning rage. Fire explodes out of the man's body as Ellard slams him down. He burns, stumbling backwards, screaming in agony. He claws at his face as they pass, falling backwards towards his own line's healers and leaving a mostly-clear path to Tarl.

     LYRIA fires her shots out into the Shivan lines. She catches several soldiers unawares, the shots screaming out of the wind and crashing into them from on high. But quickly she is noticed; a vast, heavy white Wyvern lands in front of her, screaming its furious roar. Its tail swings upwards as its rider disgorges and transforms into a heavy Yeti, claws from both monster and rider menacing the Machinist and her drone.

     MIRIELLE takes charge of the section and reorganizes the buffers immediately, the frightened barrier-mage popping up a shield in front of herself and Kyra immediately. The buffers start moving into groups of threes, forming up into a more efficient support group. The few Judges present at the dome itself are defending the dome from cannonfire with their barrier magic, leaving Cirra one of the few available.

     KYRA drops down and buffs herself, armoring up. The assigned mage follows Kyra dutifully, unsuited for the rage of war. This is the first war many of them have ever seen, and it's already one of the largest-scale wars in history. As Kyra moves forward into the fray, however, more sniper shots come pinging off, ringing off her Protectga field. They know where she is - and shortly after, a bazooka shot comes screaming in from afar, carried by fire magic and loaded with explosive force.

Project MORDRED (804) has posed:
The outer layer of Glare-NT takes the brunt of the cannon blast, an ablative layer designed to take high amounts of energy by melting away and reforming quickly from internal repair and cooling systems. Still, it pierces the outer layer and damages the layer below, leaving a hole that doesn't repair properly. MORDRED sheathes the Monofilament Broadsword, reaching once more for the XTE Lancepack. It's still combat-ready, and as he lines up his return fire, the plasma is already being heated up.

MORDRED aims straight for the Magitek Walker's pilot, steadying the Lancepack by pressing it against his side, thrusting the longarm to give that rapid ejection of superheated plasma just a little bit of additional velocity. His immediate followup is approach, not more plasma heating up and being fired, with as low a delay between those two blasts of plasma as his weapon can manage. He stops short of getting into melee range, and remains quite close to his original position.

Cirra Constantine (675) has posed:
    Some dark hand is at play here, urging the Shivan forces onwards beyond their normal capacity. Mirielle can see it in the numbers, and tells everyone over the radio.

    Then Cirra sees it first hand as Shivan troops get up from where they were knocked down and rush her. The Shivan Judge runs and dives as bullets whizz past her, one of them cutting through her leg in a spray of blood.

    Cirra bites her lip and fires her crystal knife rifle back at the Gaurdian squadron, but thats jus to buy time.

    Cirra draws a card from her side and practically punches it into the ground. "THE. BRAIR!" And between her and the troops, thick, black, sharp thorny bushes just sprout out of the ground. Like barbed wire to entangle and cut the enemy troops.

    Cirra closes her eyes and focuses. Black smoke starts rolling out of her armor joints as she starts burning her own blood for MP.

    "Hnng." She grits her teeth, and the effect of the law card starts to spread, further and faster then a normal casting of it would. With luck it should slow down anything that isn't an armored vehicle.

Soan Sagittarius (633) has posed:
     Soan is a great thief, hiding in shadows. He's also a great warrior, coming from his Dragoon training. Despite this, there is still something he is not the most amazing at, having crutch himself on his superhuman resiliance despite his best attempt: dodging. He can dodge fine. It's just not the first thing that comes to mind when presented with a backhanded smash of a Berserker. The Thief's eyes widens, letting out a cry as he takes off from the impact of the blow.

     Sagittarius soars into the air, knocking him far behind Ellard... before crashing on the top of a Shivan Magitech tank. He rolls with the landing, kicking himself off and continuing the momentum he was given, leaping from air, to air. Anybody following his trajectory would find it profoundly suspect, but this is the advantage of a mass battle: nobody's going to pay attention. He spots, in the air, Kyra going down, getting assaulted by snipers -- and that bazooka shot.

     Soaring like an arrow, the Thief catapults himself further with mid-air jumps, propelling himself other combatants to interpose himself between the Bazooka shot and the White Mage. Without thinking much, letting his hands do the work, he swipe at the explosive by barely touching it, turning it around and gently push it back at the attackers -- that damned sniper nest with bazooka firers.

     Soan lands after it sails, giving a friendly grin at Kyra. "'Scuse me, lady. Hang on tight!" He says, without warnings wraping an arm around her -- then leap-dashes back after Ellard.

Ellard Asha (766) has posed:
Ellard struggles to move towards Tarl. He's learned to fight. He understands this. Yet he doesn't understand. He doesn't fathom the concept of trying to move through a battlefield towards your objective without being touched. He pushes at the snow, trying to fight IT, hoping Soan will take care of everyone instead.

Fists fall on him. With graceful fluid movements, Ellard twists, putting his arm out, then bracing his hand against it, making a wall against the fist. Flesh like steel hammers against steel like...steel. He immediately winces as the man falls back, burning, screaming, in pain.

For a second, all Ellard can do is stare. He watches as the man's flesh bubbles in places like wax dripping. The horrible anguish of nerve endings being overloaded and great pain falling on someone. Ellard watches. He did that. To another living man. His wild eyes swivel towards Tarl. His sight goes grey. He imagines just what he could do there. Like that. With... it.

Screaming brings him back. His head flicks to Soan, wounded. He turns his head towards Kyra, just barely keeping back sniper fire. His eyes flick towards Bahamut, and people dying. He turns back towards Tarl. Ellard takes a deep breath and shouts over the noise.

"TARL THE AXE! I believe we can come to a peaceful conclusion! People don't need to keep dying!"

Staren has posed:
    The Star Hawk speeds into the air, up higher and higher... unfortunately, with Galianda's... unique cosmology, he can't just fly up to space and suffocate them. He is... /surprised/ when a /yeti/ claws its way to the cockpit, but not worried. The 'glass' is a transparent mega-damage capacity material. Besides, he can surely take it on personally, and he considers opening the canopy to fight it...

    Then he decides that's stupid. Telescoping armor plating begins extending over the cockpit (He doesn't need to see out it, with cameras built into the machine all over) and he goes into an overhead loop-de-loop at two-and-a-half times the speed of sound. The negative Gs might be a concern were his body organic right now... but it's not, so he follows that up with aileron rolls and twists and turns and loop-de-loops, trying to throw his attackers off so he can get back to the fight!

Bahamut has posed:
     Bahamut finds a dark delight in the destruction of the enemy troops. But, being a noble creature, he does his best to supress this delight. He continues to slice his way through the troops until that missile catches him right in the face. Bahamut roars and stumbles back, smoke curling up from his head and shoulders. The heavy plates around his head keep him from taking a deadly hit, but he is obviously in pain.

     Pain which he is channeling into his attack. As the smoke clears, the spinning gyro on Bahamut's back is spinning even more rapidly and glowing as brightly as the sun. Bahamut leaps backward, landing on all fours, then forcefully plants his hands and feet, and his wings spread wide. "Feel the wrath of the King of Dragons!" Bahamut bellows, then opens his mouth. Energy builds quickly in his jaws. The energy grows, forming into a brightly glowing sphere. Then, with another roar, he unleashes the energy. A beam as wide as Bahamut himself fires across the battlefield toward that tank and plowing a furrow into the ground as it sears its way across the land. Unlike most attacks from these kinds of worlds, Bahamut's attack is pure energy. It saturates whatever it hits, causing it to disintegrate.

Kyra Hyral (626) has posed:
    The Barrier Mage, by virtue of being nearby Kyra, is fortunate enough to benefit from a Protectga too. "You! That way! Figure out where those shots are coming from!" Kyra says to him as she points him off to her flank, her voice far more rapid as the Haste stimulant kicks in and does its thing.

    A distant whistling sound, growing louder, picks at the edge of her hearing before it clicks as a BAZOOKA SHELL. She screams at the Barrier Mage to run before Soan acrobats his way through the air, swipes the shell, and sends it elsewhere.

    Not arguing with the thief, Kyra loops an arm around the back of Soan's neck to hang on. The thief has his work cut out for him as far as lifting goes: Kyra's actually pretty heavy with all her gear, especially the CURE-ALL.

    While Soan bounds away with her, she swaps her weapons again, grabbing the CURE-ALL off her back. A quick scan of the field lets her spot Cirra from afar though even without her markers she probably would have spotted the copious amounts of dark thorns from her dark knight powers. Calmly, she cranks the dial to CURAGA settings and fires it at Cirra.

    For those not used to the operation of the CURE-ALL, it's easy to assume that Kyra just fired a holy hand grenade at Cirra. However, when the teeming ball of white light 'explodes', the energy heals instead of hurts.

Lyria Mason has posed:
Lyria Mason knows a fair bit about the people of this plate and what Jobs they have. Still to see a morpher do that? Is another thing entirely there's a slight pause on the Levitani's part. Thankfully Remora will act during this opening. It lets out a hiss and charges across the snow, almost seeming to bound like a mini dragoon. It fires a m-tek laser blast while Lyria recovers.

What ever happens there she's got enough time to get back into theing and start shooting at the person turned Yeti and has switched her pistol's firemode to fire element for the moment!

Mirielle Edelweiss (666) has posed:
    Mirielle is not a leader of men. She is not, in fact, really fantastic, or athletic, or popular. That anyone listens to her is startling, but, it goes to show you. The person yelling like they know what to do instantly outranks everyone standing around with no clue. As the battle unfolds, it becomes clear that there is one variable that can be totally discounted.

    Which is to say, the Ramuhan edge in this battle. She had expected - nay, the numbers /dictated/ - that the Ramuhan regulars and militia would fight as their training and discipline spoke to, and the ragtag goons and thugs of the Shivan irregulars, compounded by the factional infighting of each tribe of Shivans... Certainly they /should/ be fighting like, well... thugs.

    Instead they fight like coordinated killers, thrashing the Ramuhan lines, and the strange troops with their powerful grenades...

    But they closed with the Ramuhan lines into close melee, pressing tightly together. Which was... Strange. Certainly, it would stop a single Black Mage from targeting their lines, but... They had the entire Ramuhan support column.

    "You, and you, come with me." She half-orders, half grabs people by the robes and drags, pulling some healers with her. "Find some fresh friends, and join me on the wall." She demands, before climbing up to the highest area. "New plan. The enemy forces are closed tight with us. Support casters, if you've got the control to be selective, hit our troops with Reflect, then our black mages with Shell. Once the Shell's in place, Black Mages will volley as much Fire as they can into our frontlines, on the reflected troops. The healers and I will make sure the kickback doesn't kill you. We'll /burn/ them all, and shift the terrain while we're at it." She demands, before bringing out her knife and getting a shaded look over her eyes. "Thank the divines I know Bar-Fire." She grumbles, beginning to twist magic around the Black Mages, before making sure the Whites had their partner's backs.

    "You know, I bet my PE teacher is gonna bring some stupid rule up like 'well you didn't actually leave the wall and get active', making this the worst day of my..." She trails off, starting to draw SKETCHY RUNES around the grouping of Black Mages to give them a bit of extra protection. The runes, obviously, are drawn in a thin line of blood, and the hard, cold stone is extra uncomfortable. "Next time... Next time I get /Landon/ to do this!"

Landon al Cid (642) has posed:
     MORDRED's ablative armor melts away, and as the black might seizes the mind of the pilot, the Magitek Walker responds immediately, almost eagerly. With a savage ferocity, the Magitek Walker races forward, nearly loping like a beast towards MORDRED. The Glare-NT's beam carves right through the middle, frying the pilot in a heartbeat. But like some horrible mechanical zombie, the machine keeps running, animated by the last bursts of Magic Particles. It plows for the Glare-NT, ready to bowl it over with sheer weight and size as its final act.

     CIRRA senses the dark hand of the Dark Lord of the Sith as the Shivans draw blood. Whooping eagerly, they advance into her dark briar patch, spikes wrapping around them and strangling them out. One of Mirielle's tripartate buff squadrons rolls up to the Lady Judge and starts healing her as a small, lumpy Walker starts stomping into the briar patch, bearing a magic cannon and a makeshift axe.

     SOAN intercepts the bazooka shot and flings it back into the sniper's nest. There's a brief moment of scrambling as one of the snipers makes it out, but the shot crashes into the nest and lights it up with a plume of fire and force. Several tanks turn to try to follow his trajectory with Kyra, firing furiously at her, but none of them are near fast enough. However, a vast, hairy, roaring four-legged monster - a Weyrd - comes plowing through the line after him, knocking aside Ramuhan soldiers in the battle-fury.

     ELLARD gets Tarl's attention with a taunt. The big man rounds on Ellard, a horrible grin on his face. As the storm whips around his bare chest, soaked in blood, he thumps his meaty fist against his painted form. "AND WHAT IF I WANT THEM TO DIE?" He demands as magic courses over the paint. "WHAT IF I WANT THEIR BLOOD? WHAT THEN, RAMUHAN? WILL *YOU* STOP ME?" He comes charging at Ellard, like a great behemoth, both hands on his axe. It rises into the air as his muscles bulge with unnatural and surprising strength, fury moving him onwards. Definitely a Berserker.

     STAREN spins. Several of the Morphers are torn free by the sheer force of it, but the one hammering his face into the cockpit, by sheer bloody-minded stubbornness, holds on. The Yeti's heavy horns crash against the material again and again, as its metal-rending claws move up towards the megadamage material, looking for gaps with surprising efficiency. He appears to be the only Yeti still on the jet. He is a very bloody-minded Yeti.

Landon al Cid (642) has posed:
     BAHAMUT blazes like Phoenix on high. The radiant light carves through the wind and snow, furious in its holy magical might. The light tears its way through the line, disintegrating soldiers and snow alike in an instant. It carves a deep gash in the battlefield on its way to the tank. And then...and then it *hits* the tank, the Reflect field and the Mega Flare suddenly colliding. The shield shatters...and so too does the Mega Flare, spraying everywhere. Shots of Bahamut's own attack rain down on the soldiers near him, and on the dragon himself, turned back by the now-partially-obliterated tank. If that wasn't enough, one of the Magitek Walkers moves in, bearing a massive hammer in both hands as it advances on the Dragon King.

     KYRA's direction is unneccessary, as Soan handles the bazooka shot and the snipers in an instant. The Barrier Mage exhales, collapsing for a brief instant before he moves into formation with another unit. KYRA goes flying over to Cirra, and she too meets up with the heavy Magitek Mech advancing on the Lady Judge and her tripartate buff squadron.

     LYRIA's Remora bounds across the snow, blasting the Morpher with energy. It carves off one of the man-Yeti's arms before the Wyvern brings its massive claws down on her and the Remora alike, to protect its rider. The morpher roars, moving to swipe at Lyria's chest with claws as big as she is.

     MIRIELLE's not the only one yelling. Good advice is good advice, and it's being picked up by the few Judges actively in command of the battle and relayed to the rank-and-file rapidly. Great tactics come from whatever source they can. She actively grabs several robed men and women, who fall in step with her after a nod from their actual lieutenants, because the chain of command *is* a thing. They nod, and start disseminating their commands through the battlefield, adapting these tactics to others. As she starts drawing sketchy lines of blood in the snow, ice, and 'rock', one of the Shivan Warriors breaks through the guarding line. The Black Mages pelt him with fire spells as he advances, and he hurls an axe at Mirielle - or possibly at her sketchy runes, to break and disrupt them!

Landon al Cid (642) has posed:
     As the battlefield rages, the Shivan forces seem to get even more efficient, even more bloodthirsty. Some of them discard weapons entirely, going for strength-fuelled chokes and brutal wrestling, or abandoning finesse and technique for fury and power. The front line hasn't been able to move substantially closer in this area, but with that strange backing, it might just be a matter of time!

Ellard Asha (766) has posed:
Ellard stares again. What. Is he that bloodthristy? Is he truly a monster?

No.

Ellard moves, pushing one leg back, bending the front leg. He pushes the shield upward, draws in a breath, and moves with the first blow as all of the massive Tarl comes down on Ellard. The axe rends the shield. Metal SCREAMS. The shield takes on a hot orange glow as it parts around the axe blade. Ellard strains to heave the blade away and prepare for another strike. "Why! In this new world, with all these new worlds around us, we should be united, not killing each other! What did we do to wrong you this much? What did any of us do to make you hate us this much!"

Ellard keeps moving, pushing the shield upward, then hammering it back down with a sudden fierce slam, trying to catch Tarl's wrists.

"POWER BREAK!"

Bahamut has posed:
     Bahamut's eyes narrow as he sees the result of his attack. There was plenty of destruction, but...that Reflect. He was not expecting it to stand up in any capacity. On his own world, Reflect has always proven useless against his ultimate attack.

     This time, he has unwittingly put his own allies in danger. Bahamut roars his anger at the enemy army, then spreads his wings wide and his arms as well, attempting to cover as many troops as he can. He turns so that his back is facing the incoming remnants of his Mega Flare. "Take cover!!" he roars to his allies. Any troops on his own side killed because of his attack would cause him terrible grief. He is a protector, a defender, not a mindless berserker uncaring of his allies' lives.

Project MORDRED (804) has posed:
Glare-NT is knocked into the ground by the remaining force in that machine, it caught MORDRED of guard. One thruster gets damaged beyond field repair, destabilizing Glare-NT's flight maneuvers, and effectively forcing him to remain fighting on the ground. With that in mind, he wades into the frey. The XTE Lancepack is re-attached to the back, and the Monofilament Broadsword is brought to bear once more. The enemy seems to be abandoning all thought for a single-minded furious onslaught, and MORDRED believes he can take advantages of that.

He starts to take deliberate steps into the enemy line, his razor-sharp weapon swung in broad sweeps across the seemingly unyielding mass of enemies. He might miss, he might hit, right now he doesn't seem to care. If he forces them to back of, it's a success, if he slices them through, it's a success. His calculations and tactics rely on the lack of finesse on display, this drive for brutality. It's like he's challenging them to pile on him.

That XTE lancepack is sucking up an awful lot of the surrounding gases. What's up with that?

Staren has posed:
    "Rrrrgh..." Staren growls as he sees one yeti STILL hanging on. He reconsiders exiting to fight it... no, that's dumb. He's in a giant robot, he can have a giant metal hand /grab/ the guy.

    But more frustrating is the fact that he's been kept out of the fight so long. It's almost humiliating!

    The Star Hawk dives, speeding towards the ground below. As soon as he's in visual range, he picks out targets -- the missile launcher fires a half-dozen armor-piercing minimissiles at vehicles below. The Star Hawk itself, meanwhile, slows down and pulls a sharp turn, upside-down in an attempt to throw the yeti off, before half-rolling and transforming to land. The left hand tries to grab the yeti if it's still there, leaving the Star Hawk's other hand free to use weapons!

Kyra Hyral (626) has posed:
    Kyra manages an awkward thumbs up in Cirra's direction as she and Soan retreat. She almost asks for Soan to put her down when, from her vantage point, she sees the Weyrd break through the Ramuhan line and start chasing them. "That is some serious aggro..SOAN! Run us into the Shivan lines!" Back to the rifle, which is Kyra's weapon of choice for long range darts. At this point she finds herself totally okay with being carried since she can get through her gear easier when she didn't have to run and watch where she was going.

    Several darts are slipped into the chamber, alternating red-yellow-red-yellow. A red one is shot at the Weryd, containing a chemical well known in her circles for enraging its users, developed as an analogue of the berserker state. The second dart fired at the Weryd contains a hallucinogenic well known for severly confusing the victims. Several of these alternating darts are fired at the monster until the effects take hold, which would ultimately make the monster a problem for BOTH sides.

    Though preferably for the Shivans once Soan does his part and lures it back.

Lyria Mason has posed:
The battle is going brutally much like the nature of this land. She's forced to keep moving and she's not sop lucky this time. Remota attempt to dodge and gets clipped. Lyria is caught full out by the claws it rips inbto her chest cutting through her armour, had she not been wearing it, it would be even worse she' bleeding a bit from her wounds and is in pain. Yet she's not finished yet.

"I ... am ... a woman of THE SEA"

Then she twists about channeling her Geomaqncy to turn the very snows the enemy is upon against it and there's a massive explosion of razor sharp ice like shrapnel as she attempst to get back from the morpher.

Cirra Constantine (675) has posed:
    The thicket finally spread as far as she can will it to go, Cirra tips forward, panting for breath. That took some wind out of her. Fortunatly Kyra's CURE-ALL and Mirielle's coordinated healing units both find her and the white magic quickly heals up the cut on her leg and gets her blood prodcution back up to where she stops feeling dizzy.

    With renewed vigor, the Judge stands back up and looks at the Shivan walker trundling towards her. "Maybe they should try getting some real equipment." THe Judge says with a hint of disdain in her voice. She can't wade through the brair, unfortunatly, however...

    Cirra runs, jumping on to th still flaming tank she blew up earlier, runnign along the tank barrel and leaping into the air with a flip, coming back down at the top of the walker with the law blade raised over head and swinging it down at the shoulder of the arm that weilds the magitech cannon.

Soan Sagittarius (633) has posed:
Being very careful of his jumping, Soan keeps a strong hold on Kyra. The snow on his googles gets in the way, partialy blinding his view. This is when his sense of smell, greater as it may be, comes in handy. The scent of blood, fire, rage and fear fills his nostrils, clashing against his inner dicipline.

     The Thief leaps from the top of a Magitech tank, narrowingly avoiding a fireball-proppeled explosives at where his torso was just a mere second ago, landing on the cannon of another just as it fires off to blow him apart. He contort in mid-air, propelling himself further through just explosions trails past him and Kyra. It must be one heck of a flight for the White Mage SENDING THE OCCASIONAL PROJECTILES BACK.

     Then, the Beasts are unleashed on them.

     Soan looks down from the air at the beast, landing a few feets away, ducking under a swipe of the quadruped monster, squinting at it. A Weyrd, plwoing through Ramuhan lines pretty much heedlessly. With a little bit of urging, maybe it can do the same thing to the Shivans.

     "Good idea!" The Thief shouts out, throwing a dagger at the lumbering monstrosity as he dashes straight into Shivan lines. He don't expect much out of it, rather just getting it's further attention. Soan smirks beneath his clothing, allowing the beast to come near just enough, leaping out of the way at the last moments and luring it back to the Shivan's formations.

     "COME ON, YOU UGLY THING!" Soan shouts, making a beeline toward the Warlord leading this army. "WE'RE GOING FOR A RIDE!"

Mirielle Edelweiss (666) has posed:
    Mirielle stands up, her abraded and bloody (and a little blue) thumb finishes drawing the runes around the Black Mages, adding a third (fourth? fifth? whatever) layer of protection from Reflect kickback in the form of Dark Juju, before turning to look out at the battle, trying to think of something - anything - to do. Some new trick, some piece of force multiplication. That giant grey airship sure was a problem. If they could bring it down, or force its guns to quiet, if they could...

    Something cut her thoughts short, with a dull 'whump'-ing sound, and Mirielle found herself at least a few paces back from the wall. Was she there before? Something made it hard for her to focus, and she really felt like she needed to sit down. The ground seemed like a very optimal choice to be in. And... Her chest sure was sore.

    Looking down, there was an axehead buried in her chest, lodged into her front and stopped from being lethal by sheer dint of her bundled clothing, and perhaps a protective enhancement.

    "Oh. That's a lot of blood." She notes, as she falls backwards onto her butt, bring a hand up, not really feeling anything. "That's... a lot of /my/ blood. Shouldn't I be passed out from something like this? Surely... Surely shock will set in."

    Mirielle stares down at her wound, as the gears of her head turns. "Well... I'm not dead. That's good. But I'm not unconscious... So that's... bad." She notes, clinically. "Erm... Healer? Healer!" She calls, before laying back softly, blood pooling around her.

    "It doesn't hurt that bad. Huh."

Landon al Cid (642) has posed:
     ELLARD Power Breaks Tarl the Axe. It's...only so effective. Power Breaking a Berserker, particularly a very high-level one, basically brings them down to Warrior levels. Still, for Tarl, that takes away a lot of his bite, and probably stops the axe from going right through Ellard. Tarl sneers at him. "I agree. We should be united. But a weak King sits on your throne, and we will not follow weakness. We are Shiva, and Shiva is strong. Shiva demands its unity earned in blood and sweat. If you are so interested in unity, then drop your shield and join the Shivan Confederation! We will all be equal together." He sneers, bringing up a meaty foot for Ellard's stomach. Despite his upper-body strength, Tarl hasn't neglected his legs at all!

     BAHAMUT shields his allies as best he can, minimizing the damage from the shattered shield. The brave defense means all the damage falls on him, but better him than his allies, right? With the dragon's back turned, the Shivan Magitech Walker stomps forward, bringing its giant metal hammer down firmly on the dragon's back and hoping to smash him into the ice and snow below.

     MORDRED challenges the Shivans, and the Shivans respond. His blade cleaves through the lines, whistling in the driving wind as he carves them apart. Blood soaks the snow, staining it a new-fallen red. But the Shivans do not instantly fall into melee with MORDRED. Having seen what he can do, the line starts to break at that point, making way for the tanks to swing around and pelt him with magical fire and magical ice. The heavy tanks bombard the Glare-NT with everything they've got, and then some, trying to knock him off balance so one of their Walkers can close for the kill. Pack tactics. Brutal pack tactics, applied to war machines.

     STAREN manages to tear the Yeti off, *finally*. His micromissiles fall on several of the tanks around the Glare-NT, ripping them to pieces in a destructive explosion as they discharge their blasts. Meanwhile, his hateful Yeti nemesis morphs back into human form as he falls, whistling through the air. His wyvern peels away from a jet it had been savagely slashing at, snagging him out of the sky, and, with determination and purpose, the Morpher turns back to Staren, preparing to back-attack the Star Hawk with its brutal barbed tail. It is at this moment that one of the satchels from earlier explodes near the Star Hawk's engines. Anti-mech tactics...!

Landon al Cid (642) has posed:
     KYRA takes a fascinating tactic with SOAN. She starts enraging and confusing the battle-maddened Weyrd, as Soan draws it into the Shivan lines. Locked onto its target initially, the beast goes mad, rampaging wildly into the Shivans as it fails to recognize friend from foe. It tramples the Beastmaster who was its handler, and then the confusion no longer matters - it's simply an angry, untamed, giant blue-furred killing machine. It stamps into Tarl's bodyguards, knocking aside Berserkers with superior might and superior size.

     LYRIA's explosion of ice blinds the Yeti Morpher, who falls back towards his own ranks to get Cured. His Wyvern goes with him, flapping dutifully away from her. She has a moment as one of Mirielle's tripartate squads runs up and heals her, then buffs her, then moves on to the next group. It's just a momentary breather, though. Where to next for the machinist girl from Leviathan?

     CIRRA's thicket is doing a hell of a job slowing down the enemy. The advancement seems unwilling to enter the black-briar thicket forged from Judge and Dark Magic, staying at the distance to keep themselves safe, or going around it and losing valuable time. The Walker stamps right into it, unthreatened by the little thicket. But Cirra dives off the tank and carves her Judge Blade into the magitech cannon, causing the shot to go wild into the air. It kills one of the Wyvern fliers, bringing it crashing down onto the battlefield and kicking up snow. The Walker simply flings itself on its side, as if to smash Cirra under its massive weight like a piledriver.

     MIRIELLE hits the ground, but there's already one of her tripartate on her. They're healing her, and buffing the Black Mages, and fire roars furiously from the line into the Berserker, incinerating him. The Healer takes her head in his hands, shushing her as White Magic flows into her body and the axe is removed. "You'll be fine," he promises, "You'll be okay. Just relax. You'll be fine. You'll be up on your feet in a minute. Don't worry. This isn't lethal."

Landon al Cid (642) has posed:
     There's a momentary breach in the Shivan tactics! Whatever dark force is guiding them, is forcing them into their brutal cunning, breaks for a short period of time! Disarray falls over the Shivan forces as the dark force is withdrawn, and while it will shortly resume, the confusion in the ranks is substantial!

Project MORDRED (804) has posed:
MORDRED recognizes what's going on, he approaches forward, challenges the enemies to focus their attention on him. The magical ice roots him in place, the magical fire burns away his ablative shielding and does significant damage to the second layer of armor, overheating the self-repair systems that keep compensating for various damages Glare-NT has received so far. With the backup systems running, he's still capable of action, and the XTE Lancepack has compressed a whole lot of gas.

Rooted in place and clearly heavily damaged, it seems he's a prime target now. MORDRED waits for the Walkers to get close as his targeting assistance computer gives a warning sound. "Warning. Overcharge three hundred percent, safety precaution lock activating." To which he calmly responds, "Override safety precautions. I need four hundred." The XTE Lancepack melts itself loose from the ice, along with the arm that would wield it. "Warning. Overcharge four hundred percent. Safety pr" MORDRED interrupts the targeting assistance computer, "Fire."

The XTE Lancepack spews forth far more superheated plasma than it was designed to handle, the tight blast turned into something more akin to a wide cone as the muzzle melts under the strain. MORDRED won't be firing this thing again until it's been significantly repaired.

Ellard Asha (766) has posed:
The next axe blow doesn't rend the shield in half, curse Odin's backside. Ellard catches the axe on his shield again, pushing at it with all his might. Thankfully, Ellard is fucking mighty. Odynari on top of being built like a steel tank helps. He struggles with the axe, keeping it in place with the rent in his shield, battling against the overwhelming power. "And then what?! You kill the Ramuh King, fine. Then what? Someone will decide you don't deserve it! Then someone else! The multiverse could come in, thinking we are easy prey! You aren't uniting this world, you are dividing it worse than ever. If you-"

A kick comes up into Ellard's stomach. He buckles, wheezing as his muscles contract in pain. He drinks in air, sucking through the pain. Soan and Kyra are coming. He glances. A sob comes out of his mouth at the same time as a chuckle.

"Bring the support... of others... if you must overthrow them... do it with the backing of everyone, not in a wash of blood."

Soan Sagittarius (633) has posed:
     With the monster rampaging, Soan refocus his attention on another matter: Ellard's been left alone against the leader -- and by the sounds of things on the radio, he's not taking it very well. It's his fault. He shouldn't have bought a lower classmate into a bloody warzone, even if he from Odin. He's his responsability. The news of Mirielle getting hit later will likely hit him just as much. He do not like battles against other Humes. This is a waste. But if it's going to happen, he'll make damn sure they aren't the ones that are kissing the dirt.

     "Start throwing things at Ellard!" Soan instructs, letting the beast rampage as he closes into the battle range between Ellard and Tarl, as well as their verbal joust.

     The Dragoon-Thief lands a few feet away, letting Kyra down for now as he draws his Blacksteel blade, dashing to get between the Berserker and the kicked young Warrior. A Thief against a mighty axe. "Warlord Tarl! This young man is my junior by several years and he's showing wisdom! This is not strenghtening any of us!"

     Soan brings up his buckler, fist tightening as he grips his blade's guard to make it creak. "But if it is might that you will listen to, then I will provide it to you! Shiva is strong! BUT WE ARE ALSO STRONG! ALL OF US TOGETHER!"

     The guilt, the rage of getting someone under his care hurt, by his own carelessness, pushs the Thief to do something very un-thief like. He leaps from the snow, charging straight at the Warlord, not swinging his blade, or bringing his shield up for a hit: but to ram his head against the man's face, kicking up a storm of snow from his mighty Jump.

Kyra Hyral (626) has posed:
    "Success!" Kyra cackles as the Weryd tears off to rampage indiscriminately through the Shivan forces. The timing couldn't be better since at that moment they all seem to stumble in their well-coordinated ferocity. Strange that, though, how united and focused they were.

    Spotting Ellard up ahead, Kyra's already chanting away, pulling the MP together for a good single-target Curaga on Ellard. A CURE-ALL blast might be faster-but it's also a blast. It could hit Tarl too and she definitely did not want to heal the Shivan warlord.

    "You don't need to tell me that, twice, Soan." Hopping down from the thief as he finally stops to draw his sword. At that moment, Kyra unleashes the healing spell on the Odynari. "They've got a point, you know! There's some scary shit out there in the multiverse! Better to face it together."

    Following the heal, Kyra removes the red darts from her rifle, leaving only the yellow behind.

Lyria Mason has posed:
Lyria Mason is thankful to help from Miriielle's squads as she was pretty messed up from that hit. Thankfully it's enough to keep her together, she's gtot better idea now it's time to kick up the heat and this is a hell of a proving ground for Remora at this point. She does thank them for hteir help then make ready to press the attack again.

"REMORA! ARMOUR MODE!"

With the the drone almost seem to lunge at her comming apar reshapring it self and laying itself over Lyria's body forming into a hulking suit of magitech powered armour. The hulking powered armor take shape and Lyria moves out leping across the snowy terrain looking for hard targets like enemy armour or large cratures to go after.

Staren has posed:
    "/Finally./" Staren breathes out as the yeti is tossed aside, and he's once again raining destruction on the battlefield.

    Then one of his legs explodes.

    Not, like, /explode/ explodes, but there's a boom, and smoke pours out of it. There goes one of his main engines. Flying could be a problem -- though he has backup rocket boosters, he won't be as agile or able to accelerate as fast.

    Still, he's in a 50-ton death machine. He can wreak plenty of havoc on the /ground/. And he spies an ally in trouble (it helps that said ally is big and easy to spot) -- As he locks on to targets, he makes sure one of the missiles of his next salvo is aimed for the walker fighting Bahamut. It's followed up with a more personal touch in the form of the right arm's gatling railgun spinning up and trying to shred it, or at least fill it full of holes!

Cirra Constantine (675) has posed:
    The machine unbalances, intentionaly. Clever pilot, Cirra thinks. Maybe she should try and recuit him, if he survives. The machine falls with Cirra under it.

    Cirra's already tired, she can't burn enough blood to brace herself or push it off of her, but these are make shift, a little bit jangly where they ought to be welded tight.

    As the machine falls, Cirra has about three seconds to burn blood into that black smoke of MP that wafts out of her arm, focusing it entirely into one hand, and punching /right/ on a hastily attached panel, punching through it.

    TH Machine lands with Cirra standing in the sideways cockpit of the magitech armor. "You."

    Cirra grabs the pilot and punches him across the jaw.

Bahamut has posed:
     Bahamut grits his teeth as he takes the hits from from his own disrupted attack. The remnants of his beam finally stop falling. He turns his head to make sure it is over. Just in time for that hammer to come crashing down on him. The plates along his back crinkle inward from the impact point, and Bahamut growls as he is slammed to his knees.

     Which, puts him in a perfect position to bring a rising uppercut to bear on the machine, his sharp talons pointed upward to puncture into the pilot's seat. Perfect for targeting by Staren. Bahamut grins a thank you toward Staren. Once the machine is shredded, Bahamut kicks the walker back, then roars. His gyro is once again glowing brightly and spinning rapidly.

     Bahamut's wings spread, and with a few powerful flaps he wings his way into the sky. As he rises...he spots a ship. A ship that does not match the configurations of the walkers the Shivans are using. The dragon grins almost wickedly, then heads toward it. His gyro is already spinning up to speed as he approaches. He rises so that he is facing the TIE Corvette. His wings keep him hovering as he opens his mouth and once again starts gathering energy between his jaws. The energy pulses, then pushes outward into a brightly glowing sphere of blue-white. It might appear to those below like he has a star gripped between his metallic jaws. And, just like before, the sphere of energy suddenly explodes outward. A blue-white energy beam lances outward toward that ship, creating a sound not unlike thunder. When it impacts, it starts burning its way into the ship, causing multiple explosions as it super-saturates materials with energy. It could very well punch a hole clean through the ship!

Mirielle Edelweiss (666) has posed:
    Mirielle is lifted up slightly, and one of her specialist teams rushes over to her, removing the axe and stabilizing her. True to their word, she's up on her feet, with only a minute or so of her chest being stitched back together and blood is magically generated in her body thanks to a reinforcement of her pattern, and she's much better! There's also a minute or so of excruciating agony as her body goes 'oh wait, I'm not going to die' and 'oh wait, I'm not in shock' and 'time to use my only reinforcement method to tell you to never do that again - pain!'.

    With a sore throat and a tear-streaked face, the medical trio move on to continue with triage, and Mirielle is covered in her own cold blood and laying on a wall under attack by maddened enemy forces. "For all that I cut myself to get results, /damn/ does that hurt." She grumbles, sitting up. Oh, where were we? The battle lines were doing well, for some reason that dark presence faltered and...

    Ellard needed support. Badly. Her instructions to the casters had been macro-scale. Support pushes, heal retreats. Keep the lines solid. Erect barriers. They had spared nothing for the personal scale. They were... numbers.

    Maybe it was time to treat some of those numbers more like people.

    Raising both hands, the blood that caked her and the ground under her became steamy, hazy. Not in the way of Cirra's Dark Knight powers, but in something altogether similarly sketchy. Then, she cast forth her spells, seeking Ellard. This was not a normal spell. In fact, it didn't really have a name. But, if you understood math, patterns were really things that could be layered, expanded on. For example, Mini was essentially multiplying by 1/10th size. So, 'dividing by Mini' was more like 'multiplying by bigness'. Dividing by a fraction, you see.

    What would happen if you layered the spells like so? (Bravery x Haste x Aura)/Mini

    Well, first, it would drain the caster a hell of a lot, because it was really three spells cast at an extreme level of power, but since Mirielle hadn't actually cast much more than Wall once and BarFire three times, she had plenty of juice to burn.

    This new effect launched out like a strange, twinkling flare, and arced over the battlefield to impact with Ellard.

    Let's call it... the GIGASWOLE.

Landon al Cid (642) has posed:
     MORDRED's plasma pours out into the Walker moving to take his head off. It melts right through, and the Walker falls to the ground with a loud *thump*. The next Walker crashes into the snow, landing atop one of the tanks Staren's missiles didn't hit. The next one simply erupts in a flowering blossom of magical energies. They fall around him as his weapon falters and dies, but he's basically in the clear now. Foot forces are falling back away from him, launching half-hearted bazooka shots in his general direction to keep him from advancing further into the line.

% ELLARD catches the axe, and pushes his strength against Tarl's. Because of Power Break, it's a perfectly even match. Tarl presses down, Ellard presses up, and then as he buckles, Tarl brings the butt of his axe for Ellard's mouth. "The strong live. The weak do not. That is the rule of Shiva. If we are weak, we will all die anyway, no matter who sits upon the throne. We *have* gathered the backing of our people. We *have* the support of our nation. Should we send the dynasty letters?" Tarl sneers.

     SOAN interrupts his sneer with a Jump. He headbutts the Warlord of Shiva right in the face, a trickle of blood pouring from Tarl's nose as he stumbles backwards. He wipes it away and spits a tooth into the snow. "This is what has been coming for a long time," Tarl snarls, "The Ramuhan Domes are against our way. They are for fat children to sit inside, away from the fury of the storm, abandoning the path of their fathers. We are here to remind them of what Shiva means, and tell the al Cids - and the world! - what we can do. And you would have me stop? For some pipe-dream of togetherness? Pah!" He swings his axe furiously for the Dragoon's chest.

     KYRA heals Ellard, and starts firing Confuse Darts into the enemy lines. The Shivans, temporarily disrupted, get blindsided, and then turn on each other. A whole squad just falls on each other and starts murdering the shit out of themselves. Axes and claws rend and tear, ripping each other to shreds as the Weyrd helps. Big furry blue monster is a good thing to have nominally on your side.

     LYRIA enters her armor mode, and goes off to find a hard target. She doesn't have to look far. She crashes into one of the armors full-on, hammering into a tank with her hulking bulk. The tank shakes, then swings its massive turret around, trying to smack the girl right in the head and send her flying.

Landon al Cid (642) has posed:
     STAREN comes in for the save on Bahamut, filling the Magitech Walker full of railgun. The holes punch right through the mech, and it shudders, stumbles, and dies. But even as he does so, magical cannon fire rains down on his back, as the anti-mech tactics of the Shivans resume. Still, they're noticeably more disarrayed now. That's good. Also, the Yeti he tossed off brings his Wyvern down to tear into Staren's machine in between the cannon strikes, flashing and slashing with metal-rending claws and tail!

     Cirra tears her way into the panel, to a look of shock from the pilot. She grabs him by the neck and punches him across the jaw, knocking the man senseless. The Magitech Walker's in her hands, now, provided she's got the MP to power it!

     BAHAMUT uppercuts the Walker Machine right into Staren's fire, leaving his shot clear for the TIE Corvette. The Shivans fall back from the destructive beam, taking what cover they can behind Reflect Tanks until it becomes clear that that's not *them* that's the target. That's good. The results may not be to Bahamut's liking, though...and even after the beam's fired, it just makes him a target for larger cannons. Still, the SHivan forces - at least here - are looking pretty damn ragged.

     MIRIELLE gets a smile from the White Mage, and an "I imagine so. You'll be fine, though. We've got your back." The White Mage tripartate sticks to Mirielle like glue as she begins casting her GIGASWOLE to pump Ellard up, with the Black Mages ahead of her fending off enemies by crook and sword. Mirielle remains unmolested for the moment, but how long that'll last depends on those Black Mages, and the Warriors aren't giving them much room to work.

Ellard Asha (766) has posed:
Ellard falls back as the butt hammers into his mouth. He falls to the ground, landing on a knee. Blood pours from his mouth. He spits out a chipped tooth. And as Tarl talks, he gets ANGRY. "You have a chance. A chance to push back the bleakness. A chance to give your children a better life. A chance to fight back the death and to live peacefully, to prosper! You think FREEZING TO DEATH is the right way? You want to struggle? You want cold?"

Ellard closes his eyes as the heal overtakes him. Blood stops flowing. Ellard stands up. He clenches both fists as his breastplate suddenly shifts, filling out with muscle. What the. Ellard sucks in a breath. Right. Teamwork. He lashes out hand suddenly, letting go of his tower shield. It drops, nearly broken, into the snow, and Ellard jams that hand in front of the axe. The blade bites deep into the flesh there, biting down to the bone where it resounds with a loud clang. He brings the other fist down and around, hammering one solid punch at the side of Tarl's head. A punch that sounds with a thunderclap.

"Go to the Iron Desolation. This is nothing."

Project MORDRED (804) has posed:
MORDRED is fine not to pursue, he's done his part. The melting ice lets him stand up, and he slowly falls back, letting others close the line in front of him if needed. To keep the position. His ability to fight is practically nonexistent right now. It's time to retreat.

Bahamut has posed:
     Bahamut, his beam fired, dives down toward the troops below. Shells explode all around him, knocking him this way and that, leaving his feathered wings looking frayed and his metallic plates looking scorched and cracked.

     But, Bahamut will fight until his last breath. He banks down toward Tarl. Ellard clashing with the warlord should give him the perfect opening to swoop in and rake Tarl with his outstretched talons on his left hand. After his initial pass, Bahamut banks back around then lands opposite Ellard around Tarl. "It is only a pipe-dream because of warlords such as you! Heartless barbarians who would destroy everything simply to prove a point?!" he roars, then he slashes at Tarl again.

Cirra Constantine (675) has posed:
    Cirra Cosntantine is running on a half tank of MP as it is, theres no way she could fire a sustained beam from the magitech cannon. However...

    Cirra drags the pilot out of the magitech walker and gets into the seat herself. She fiddles with th controls, "This thing is ancient." And eventually gets the machine to stand up right. She starts moving it back towards the enemy lines as she makes it look like it's retreating from damage. Which is fair, the magitech cannon is skewed and it's missing an armor plate.

    Cirra turns the walker and gets it up to running speed, putting as much MP as she can - comfortably - put into it's systems.

    Then she jams all her remaining fire crystals itno the engine compartment and dives out the side as it walks into the Shivan lines.

Soan Sagittarius (633) has posed:
     The problem with using your head as a literal weapon is that if it does not finish off the fight, if you weren't fully ready for it, it does make the world a little more interesting by how fuzzy it becomes. The Thief staggers back from his blow, his eyes unfocusing the impact reasonate through his skull. He looks up, squinting at the reply from the berserker as he stumble back a step.

     Soan's steadily refocusing eyes watch the eye coming down on him. He was ready to take it in the chest, steeling himself for the biting sensation of steel carving into his flesh. In another world, it would've hit him. Then he would have had to prove a painful point with his own blood to the berserker.

     Fortunately, the world takes another turn.

     The impact of Ellard's hand with the axe snaps him back into focus. And much bigger than he remembers him being. Soan don't dwell too much on it, springing to action.

     "Is that what your Fathers would say, or are you merly putting words in your Grandfather's spirit mouths?" Soan says, regaining his usual calm demanour, still tempered with the pain he's got in his head. He goes for the lower road, slamming his buckler into the man's stomach and a swing of his sword at his knee's back. "Because by what you say, all I'll imagine they'll say is that you are getting your ass beat by a bunch of 'fat dome children'. You know. The ones so weak?"

     And for good measure, he steals his wallet.

Staren has posed:
    Staren sees the mech go down, and pumps his fist. "Yeah!" A split-second later, cannon fire slams into his back. Shards of metal rain down. And THE FREAKING YETI comes back, lashing out at him. "RAAAGH! DIE already!" The Star Hawk turns to the side, its left arm raising and projecting some kind of energy shield from the forearm to catch further cannon fire, while a massive beam 'sword' projects from the right wrist, which he swings at the wyvern!

    He hates to admit it, but damn are these Shivans tough... Maybe they need to find a smarter way to fight them...

Lyria Mason has posed:
Lyria Mason is now locked on battle with anemy armour. She slams into it and make quite a impact she's trying to get into a good spot to use some of her other wweapons. Howeve the turret is coming towards her and she's forced to leap to avoid geting sent flying. Now airbone she lowers he machine's cnaon and opens fire on the armour below firing lightning elmental energy blades from the barrel of the big old canon as she drops.

Mirielle Edelweiss (666) has posed:
    Mirielle practically smells the numbers moving against the Ramuhans, turning to the medics with her. "Get down to the lower levels and get anyone who can move ready to go." Mirielle gasps lightly, clutching at her chest and the dull, phantom pain that throbbed there. There's streaks of telling attacks at the dome's barriers and barrier-mages.

    "Alright. If you've got ethers, drink them." She sighs, her own stocks empty, and her large backpack of crap abandoned because she had to choose between 'heavy pack' and 'actually wearing cold weather gear.

    She looks around, and at the pool of her own blood frozen into the wall, and shakes her head. "I'm going home and having a bath." She sighs darkly. Her thoughts would go out to the dead and dying on the fields of battle...

    But to Mirielle, they're just numbers. She had seen to her friends in trouble, or saw them seen to by others - like Kyra - so she wasn't overly worried. Beyond that, the al Cids would have to deal with the pasting they took on this front by the darkly enhanced troops.

    She slung a few mild Haste effects as she headed down the wall, making sure anyone who was going to pull out could do it double-time.

Kyra Hyral (626) has posed:
    Steadily, every single dart is fired, leaving Kyra with no more confusion rounds to spare. The rifle is stowed and her attention turrned back to Soan and Ellard. She starts to reach for the CURE-ALL but stops, twitching as she hears Tarl put down the way of life for those in the domes.

    "So you want to be known to the multiverse for your intolerance?" Kyra taunts as she slips in another lone dart from her bandolier. It contains an ashen grey substance. "A monument to telling others how to live their lives? Oh, speaking of monuments."

    Kyra fires the round at Tarl. The dart contains a very dangerous mixture filled with cockatrice venom. Those unlucky enough to be exposed gradually turn to stone.

Landon al Cid (642) has posed:
     Tarl doesn't even get a chance to respond. ELLARD, backed by the sheer might of the GIGASWOLE, clubs him in the head with his punch, and it rings out with the force of a thunderclap, blasting back snow and storm. Tarl stares at him for a moment, uncomprehending. Then he just...drops, as SOAN slashes out his legs. His eyes roll back into his head, and he crashes into the snow at Ellard's feet.

     BAHAMUT's claw just lifts the unconscious man and carries him into the line of the Ramuhans, who quickly secure him as he turns to stone from KYRA's dart.

     They find his wallet missing. SOAN GOT: 4000 gil! SOAN GOT: Hi-Potion!

     CIRRA raises the busted-up Walker, jams it full of explosions, throttles it on, and bails. It plows forward, stomping through the snow and crashing into the line. One of the Walkers moves to catch it, and the fire crystals erupt furiously the instant it's halted, taking both machines up in a bloom of fire and smoke and magic. Snow is blown back by the explosion, along with several Shivans.

     STAREN punches a Wyvern in the face with a beam sword. The Wyvern bisects, its rider bailing. The Morpher, Staren's own personal nemesis for the battle, shakes his fist at him as he hits the snow and falls back into the Shivan lines.

     LYRIA tears the tank apart with blasts of lightning from on high, ripping it to shreds. It comes apart with a blast of lightning and magical plumes. Several Wyverns move in to try to hedge Lyria in.

Landon al Cid (642) has posed:
     Bahamut's efforts, it seems, were not in vain. An escape pod bursts forth from the TIE Corvette, soars upwards, and vanishes somewhere else on the battlefield. The dark force controlling the Shivans falters, and their forces suddenly return to their disorganized, discontent, disconcerted state.

     Then, there is a sudden call. "FALL BACK! THE DOME IS BREACHED! FALL BACK!" The Ramuhan defending forces turn and engage in a fighting withdrawal, more of their number falling as they pull back into defensive positions around the Dome itself and withdraw in through airlock-style doors. A great cheer rises from the Shivans. That cheer will likely turn vicious when they realize Tarl has been taken.

     MIRIELLE's prediction has served the forces of Ramuh well. The fighting retreat, aided by her assistance, begins smoothly. Still, the Ramuhans were the better army, and the Elite forces managed to capture one of their leaders. What happened here? What made them such a vicious, well-oiled machine?

     The Ramuhans will fall back to the other domes to reinforce. Myridia is lost...but a small loss.

     The war is just beginning.

Cirra Constantine (675) has posed:
    Cirra pulls herself up out of the snow and watches as the dome is over run, the damage and the flames makes her grimece in rememberance. That memory from half a life time ago comes back unbidden, almost ten years ago when some one else did something like this, willfully tearing apart families and lives.

    Flickers of the Dark Knight smoke leak from her armor as she walks back to the retreating ramuhan forces.

Bahamut has posed:
     Bahamut smirks as Tarl is captured, but snorts in anger as the retreat is called. "What? This field is ours. How can they have breached the wall?" Bahamut spreads his wings and takes up position to cover the troops' retreat, unleashing magic and claws on their pursuers, if there are any.

Soan Sagittarius (633) has posed:
     They have the enemy VIP, thrown through the Ramuhan lines. Soan takes a deep breath, gathering his things together and running to get to the rest of the army retreating. They may have lost the dome, but... they have a very strong prize to them.

     And some gil and a high potion. Man. This guy had /nothing/.

Kyra Hyral (626) has posed:
    "Shit." Kyra murmurs, lowering her rifle to the point to which she drops it. It doesn't fall to the ground but instead dangles from a shoulder strap. "C'mon guys, we need to book it. Pronto." Kyra wastes no time herself-she's a healer, she's been taking sniper fire, and she's all too happy to retreat back to the withdrawing Ramuha.

Lyria Mason has posed:
Lyria Mason has done a good deal of damage as she's trying to evadr the incoming storm of attacks from the Wyverns which are coming for her. She's doing well but then comes the call over the tacnet. The Dome is breached? Wait what? Oh this is bad the order to fall back is given. She does give the monsters after her a salvo of M-tek missiles to keep them off her back as she joins in getting otu there. She will however move to cover any allied troops or even civilians who are fleeing.

Mirielle Edelweiss (666) has posed:
    The numbers started to crystallize in Mirielle's head a bit sooner than the battle actually collapsed, but Mirielle expected that. Thankfully, she was prepared, but her dour mood and dark opinions of things were colored by the fact she had taken an axe to the chest. Nothing made sense, from the start, and things had been filed into a new box called 'today, while the world is on crazy pills and nothing makes sense, the numbers look like this'.

    She had wanted to be wrong. But the crashing of many eventualities fell into line, and here they were.

    Mirielle wanders with the retreating column, offering slight buffs and weak heals as she can, trying to make sure the retreat is orderly as possible, as she starts a new journal. She had to press down all her feelings today, put them down, with her memories and observations, in paper.

    And then there would be time to study, after a bath and getting back home.

    She spent a moment blissfully aware that, after a few days, she wouldn't remember this moment, and all the people who died. Their cries would not haunt her. Their pale, bloody faces would not mark her nights. Sometimes, her leaky faucet of a mind had its advantages. It even caused a little dark smile. Maybe it wasn't... /always/ a curse to be like her.

Staren has posed:
    Okay, punching a wyvern in two is /pretty cool/ -- Staren grins as his nemesis for the day falls in the snow, and tries to finish the job with the railgun, but it's hard to target well in the snow, and damn is that guy tough...

    Only then does Staren realize that their side is... losing? What the hell? What did they do wrong?

    Well, even Staren can't fight an army. He retreats, but missiles and railgun shots continue to rain down on the Shivan forces as long as they're in range...