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Landon al Cid	SHIVA      Before you even arrived, you had the support of the Shivan Confederacy - the saner members of which have seen which way the wind blows, and withdrawn all support from Harald. Alone, the man has sat, surrounded but holed-up in his fortress: the Ice Tower.      And then the team arrived.      The Ice Tower has not been a pushover. The team of elites, through guile, cunning, skill, and strength, has beaten its way to the top of the frigid dungeon, pushing through Shivan soldiers and wandering monsters with occasional trouble, but no REAL difficulty. The battles were long and tedious, and the shifting and slippery floors designed to exhaust enemies on the way to the top of the massive Tower. Signs of ancient culture are carved into the walls, like any good dungeon, and treasure is scattered in secret places the army didn't bother or didn't care to go, either because they were busy or because of large and nasty monsters.      But treasure is not the goal of this adventure.      The view from atop the Ice Tower is incredible. Massive chunks have been carved out of the walls to allow inhabitants to survey Shiva from on high. This high up, the wind howls, like the baying of hungry wolves, through the halls. The mountains, the Domes, the blizzards - all of them can be seen through those sliced-out chunks, all of them so distant and so small.      At the end of the highest hallway is a pair of vast double-doors, carved of ice. On the other side is an argument, one easily audible thanks to the open windows, which might perhaps be a design flaw if the ancients who sculpted this place had wanted to keep things secret from anyone in the next room.      "You swore to me!" comes the angered voice of Harald Wolf-Lord, loudest participant in the argument, "You told me that that crystal would guarantee my victory! Would guarantee freedom for the Shivan people!"      "My lord, don't believe his lies!" urges a second voice, probably a random unnamed soldier.      "Account for yourself!"      It is at this moment that, with a little work, the door comes open, and the argument's participants are shown in full. The room is a huge, circular room, with glittering icicles inside which beautiful blue flames are trapped, casting a gorgeous light across the room. The floor itself is not ice, but something *else*, some strange flat crystalline structure that seems to retain heat despite the frigid surroundings.      Harald Wolf-Lord stands, tall, eyes wide in shock as the door opens.      Around him gather soldiers, the last remaining Irregulars of the Shivan Confederacy, the last remaining of Harald Wolf-Lord's loyalists.      And in the far back, sitting on the windowsill...
Landon al Cid	The man, if that is indeed what it is, is huge. He dwarfs Harald, dwarfs the soldiers, dwarfs everyone. The figure is nearly twelve feet tall and nearly four wide. A hood and cloak are draped over his face, and the glint of a metal mask shines from underneath it. The cloak covers him completely, except for the blue, clawed scale-mail gloves, and a gargantuan spear clad in between one of them.      The hood tilts a bit.      "How expected," the man's voice hisses, a dark and unpleasant voice that seems to send even the shadows fleeing, "Company."      "They're Ramuh's allies!" Harald growls, "They did this to me!"      "I am well aware of that," the man replies, waving one of those clawed scale-mail gloves at Harald as he stands to his full height. There's something odd about the way he's standing, like his feet aren't quite right. "I am pleased to meet you, people from the outside world."      "I will permit you to know me by the name Andore."      Andore takes a step forward. There's no rustling of metal. But he's wearing mail, right?      Harald, meanwhile, turns to face the group. "You...you robbed me of my promised victory, stole the Crystal that was rightfully mine, and have broken Shiva before you like it is nothing but glass. And now you come to finish me off? I will not die so easily, not for the games of others! Come, then! Harald Wolf-Lord will show you what he's made of!"      The huge Andore chuckles, a low, unpleasant noise. "Perhaps indeed he will. I'll give you one more chance, Harald. Deal with them, and I'll give you the power to bring the al Cid family to its knees."      Harald howls, and transforms into his werewolf state as his Shivan irregulars move to defend him.      The battle begins!
O'Mont're Tyr	Assaulting an entrenched position in a desolate, icy wasteland, battling native forces fighting with primitive weapons, unknown sorceries and berserker fury, all to charge into the heart of their stronghold and cutt off the head of the wolf before it can bite again? Must be Friday, Baron Ordensi thinks. He loves Fridays. The Callidus Amicae's forces have been sieging the place for weeks now. Entrenchments have been dug and fortified positions have been established. Baron Ordensi is skilled at this form of warfare, and it shows to even the most uneducated in battle. In a matter of days, the sieging force looked less like a mass of troops and armor marching forward and more like a line of earthworks steadily advancing. The Galiandans have been allowed to take the lead, with the Rogue Trader's House Troops (and their Tau 'brethren') waiting in reserve. The artillery has taken pause, Earthshaker rounds and plasma fire and missile barrages quieting while the insertion team goes in to do their thing. Commander Deathgaze watches from a vantage point overlooking the entry to the fortress proper. He does not accompany you.
Kamon Lionward	Kamon does. The young Odynari has not been on the ground fighting. He has instead been at Landon al Cid's side whenever he's been anywhere near the battle, dressed in red armor and fine clothes in similar shades. It makes him stand out, and it makes him seem more threatening -- things a Lionward wants when they're on the job, given how they do it. Kamon delves the dungeon with the rest of the group. His training at Alexander Academy makes it as easy as breathing. Navigating puzzling traps, fighting groups of opponents and having to alternate between stealth and screaming at a moment's notice... It's like a dungeon exam, except more massive. He steps into the room with Harald and the other figure. He's wielding a straight sword in both hands, a katana and a dagger resting at his hip. Under other circumstances, he would've put it down and used his hands to help with navigation and puzzle-solving. Here, it's less necessary. Kamon sees Harald, the Irregulars and Andore, and he knows he's made a good decision keeping himself armed. The sword comes up. Kamon moves forward to meet the Irregulars, the Fighter in him in his element, swinging to shatter weapons and break defenses for his friends to follow up. He raises his voice, and his battle-cry is not quite what you'd expect: "Just like we practiced! This is the final test!!"
Sanary Rondel	Sanary's been focusing on healing duty for this fight, arriving with several extra Mend and Physic staves strapped to her back in addition to her trusty kite shield and gunaxe while working her damnedest to keep her allies healed up and not dead to the best of her abilities. She's well-prepared for today's battle, geared up in her heaviest armor and carrying a hip sack full of thermoses of ether just in case her staves aren't even enough.      It's a good thing she's overprepared this time, too, since by the time the massive force reaches that tower, she's already gone through a Physic staff and two Mend staves! Faced with Harald and the giant calling himself Andore, the one-eyed healer readjusts her hold on that kite shield of hers while keeping herself a safe distance away from the front for the time being.      For good reason, too, since she's trying something a little different today: Intel! She hasn't made much use of that Libra matrix before (mostly because of the Fire matrix and resulting lasers), but today felt like a good day to try it out. Thankfully, with both Harald and Andore not moving wildly while speaking, it's a simple enough matter to scan them both.      "Your boss really doesn't care about you, huh? What a shame." She snickers briefly before staring at Andore and frowning just a bit. "Careful with the guy behind him, everyone. Can't get a clear read on him, but he's weak to Holy attacks. And the fuzzball's weak to fire!"
Soan Sagittarius	This is the first time that Dragoon Man has involved himself in the matter of the war. He's appeared before the Allied Forces about to storm inside, offering his aid to plow through the remaining forces. Whenever a Dragoon is here because of actual loyalties, or other rumours that's been accumulated about this war is up for debate. He's another Heavily Armored fighter, which is nothing to sneeze, nor refuse.      Apparently, this dungeon delving goes pretty well! They are plowing through, and sooner rather than later, they reach the throne room as the rather large party bursts inside. Dragoon Man stands, lifting his spear in a defensive position when Harald rants, hearing him even from beyond the gates. Harald is one thing. He's robbed him of that Special Thing that would let him break out his ambitions. What is more worrying, is the other figure.      That man. That... person. That spear.      It's hard to gauge Dragoon Man's expression as he steps in, considering he is wearing a mask. However, his physical attitude changes. His hands tightens around the heft of the Spectral Great Spear he wields, the bright flames of his eyes sockets widens as he crouches into a more offensive stance.      "Andore..." His muted, metallic voice intones, his flames narrowed at the spear behind him. "So /you/ are behind this! You were urging him, giving him the tools!"      Soan spins his spear, make a small jump and slams into the ground more foward inside. Flames crackles at the tip of his spear as he points it at the cowled man. He haven't smelled anything like him before, but more troubling... is the weapon he has behind him. Surprise takes him aback again. Just for a split moment.      "Gungnir!? The Heaven-Piercing Divinity, Gugnir!?" He exclaims out. He can't go after him, not right now. Too many Irregulars, Harald himself is no slouch.      Roaring out a battle cry, the Dragoon charges at the remaining irregulars, swinging his spear as he attemps to pierce his way through the forces. That man needs to give some answers.
Starbound Flotilla	The STARBOUND FLOTILLA are here, in their specialist SPELLSWORD PROJECT equipment. Their suits of heavy, mechanized armor are huge, giving each of them a height of at least seven feet, and their bodies are thickly plated with armor everywhere. Despite this, their motions are fluid, dexterous, and agile, having increased speed, strength, and precision to go with their increased endurance. Each possess heavy shielding, hard-light holopanels emitted over the surface of their armor, shimmering with their respective colors. They also possess HEAVY POWERED versions of their traditional armaments.     Moonfin, the fishman, has armor that looks like a samurai's over his whole body. It glows cyan at the visor where the facemask meets the wide, eastern-style helm, and wields a katana. Biteblade's elaborate armor is plated with bonetree wood and thick animal hides that reinforce its scrapped-together appearance, but the gaps between those plates and hides glow an intense green. She holds two hefty daggers. Pavo, the bird-girl, wears a suit of armor with an aesthetic somewhere between an old ironside warship and a temple, plated with stone and steel with a mesoamerican-styled head. The sun-like symbols adorning it glow an ominous yellow, and she brandishes a cutlass. Albert has a particularly dystopian-sci-fi look to it, but like it was designed in the 1950s. It's sleek, professional, manufactured, with glowing white lines adorning it, and carries a massive hammer . George's armor looks like someone souped up a powered industrial loader suit, and the flat EVA-like faceplate with its glowing red light clearly mark it as based on industrial gear. His hands crackle with electricity and he holds a massive industrial prying tool, like a crowbar on steroids. Seft's form is of a proper knight, tall and broad, with plates and chainmail adorning the mechanical frame, and a harshly aggressive styling to the helm. The grated faceplate only allows a simple blue glow to blast out of its shadowy depths, and she hoists a massive battleaxe.     Albert sticks to Kyra, tanking for her, like he has this whole dungeon. Seft has likely stayed with Red Saber, presumably also near Kyra. Moonfin keeps near Souji, still working the loyal samurai appearance, mostly doing his best to make sure Souji never needs to look like he's putting effort into anything. George keeps near Audrey, sticking with a fellow hand-to-hand expert. Biteblade has been working in tandem with Zwei. Pavo has done dedicated work so far with Sanary, covering her healing, despite their past conflict. And as they enter, they observe the buildup to proper combat, and speak among themselves. "Yikes, that's the fuzzy kickass form, right?" "Isss. Careful, dangerousss. Even more, when animal, when cornered." "Aye, ye get in range of those claws, ye be done for." "A leader is not the only threat of the story. His subordinates loom dangerously." "Aggressive. The only thing that matters right now is killing Harald." "We will do it efficiently. Murasame. Orders."     The Starbounders are primed to strike as soon as Souji decides where best to apply them. They are a well-oiled, dedicated, loyal machine of absolute Zaibatsu power, right now.
Kyra Hyral	Throughout the dungeon, Kyra had been a very active supporter. It isn't just that she was okay with shooting up people with performance-increasing buffs. Her magic was functioniing in peak form today which is much more could be said compared to the last time she was helping with the war effort against Shiva.     "Honestly..." Kyra says from the back of the advancing group before they step through the doors where Harald and his mysterious guest can be found. "I thought there would be more block puzzles. Pushing things out of the way..." Her lighthearted mood disappears once they step inside the room, however, all business.     Kyra doesn't say anything as she slips in behind the group, sticking besides Albert. Instead, she gets right to work and Scans the heck out of everyone across from them to include the mysterious Andore.
Lyria Mason	Lyria Mason had a better understanding of the Wolflord than she had before, but at this point it was time to stop this madness. Too many people were being chewed up in this war, and the powers the Wolflord had tapped? Has made Lyria wish to bring this to an end. The Ice Tower had been a very hard fight to get though the enviorment, the defends and the traps. The treasure is ignored for the most part as she moves to press on with the rest of the party. Lyria's drones had maged to remain mostly intact through the battle but the damage from what the defenders had inflicted on this. "I'm afrid this is the point where we deal with the black spot you have been given Wolf Lord. This madness is over but if you wish to die on your feet? I will give you that much." Lyria's goggles are down and she knows this place it's made of ice there might be some air but the ice power she has would not work well against the Wolf Lord she's not a fool when it comes to the nature of the Shivans in this world. Her drones chitter for a moment and fall back like they are making ready for something but not direcltya attacking the mysterious man has thier attention whom is getting heavy duty scans from their scanners, he's an unknown if there's anything strange about him they need to know if they can figure it out. Lyria has stuck wiuth her frineds on this, she now draws both her pistols and dials them to fire. She's stuck it out with Landon, Cirra, KAmon and the rest this had to end and she was ready to fight. With Dragoon Man's entrance adding to the forces here it was showing how serious it was. Even former hires of the Worf Lord the infamous Flotilla were now working against him with others. She has her pistols ready and she opens fire with them on the wolf lord before breaking into a series of manouvers to keep herself from being an easy target. Kyra would also find Remora moving to give her some cover.
Dominic Masoch	No longer part of the Ramuhan nobility, Dominic didn't have too much stopping him from coming along to help out at the conclusion of this particular bit of military conflict. All the more reason to come was because Kyra had been involved and, while Dominic had been involved with the side investigation, he had missed the last major battle.     Ramuhan standard Fencer armor was actually surprisingly light, and Dominic was dressed in what appeared to be little more than grey and dark blue combat fatigues with some reinforced elbows, knees, and chest areas. It's reinforced enough to be protective, but loose enough to not restrict his mobility.     After the quick work made of the dungeon, the Fencer had hardly been too taxed. A testament to the frequent time he spends down in dungeons these days. He grips his sword in one hand and brushes his hair back with the other, moving with a professional speed and endurance as he tries to proceed as expediently as possible.     It's when the twin doors crack open and they all rush in to stand with the source of all their problems that he finally shows surprise. He had not anticipated that there would be such an ominous power behind the 'throne', so to speak, though he had long suspected someone was pulling the strings of this whole affair.     "Andore. Harald Wolf-Lord."     He flicks the blade to face off against the opposing force, adjusting his stance as a gloved hand grips the blade. When Kamon charges in, Dominic is right behind him, blade in hand. He dashes rapidly, keeping up with the Fighter with ease. When Kamon slams into the front line, Dominic keeps going.     He takes an easy leap, plants a foot on Kamon's shoulder, and then springboards off of him to try to go over the line of Irregulars and come right down on Harald with a descending sword thrust.     "It ends here."
Audrey Stormfist	It's to keep an eye on the so-called 'heroes' that one AUDREY STORMFIST is here. An envoy of Souji's, not there to end the war but to keep tabs on what happens, the Kirin supervisor, and Heritor, and Monk, wears the no different from usual getup that is her reinforced, dark blue military overcoat, with sleek magitech gloves going up to her elbows, not that anything but her hands stick out from under the long sleeves.     The late teen would have assisted the group up the tower-- deployable crampons on her boots have kept the obligatory Ice Level from messing with her balance, and her gauntlets have spent the entire time up loaded with Fire cartridges, not to mention the Fists of Fire Monk ability that have kept them perpetually engulfed in dancing, light flames. The ice-aligned guards and dwellers of the tower were kind of outmatched to begin with, but Audrey doesn't like leaving things up to chance.     Numerous pictures of Andore are snapped, and presumably relayed to Souji live. But for all the ominous talk and setup, the Heritor is quiet, not joining the front line immediatly. If people want to exhaust themselves charging right into his royal guard, they can have that. The sight of Gungnir certainly causes her eyes to wander to the spear and remain fixed there, though she spares George, next to her, a quick nod.     "I believe your assorted worlds have various myths about werewolves. The ones concerning silver, at least, are correct here," she tells him, and perhaps it's for Archer's benefit too. The man certainly had quite the arsenal; surely he has silver weaponry too.
Cirra Constantine	"-You- broke the Shivan people, Harald Wolf Lord!" Cirra proclaims as she strides through the doubble doors with everyone else. The Judge had moved through the dungeon like a woman possesed. Not reckless, just...driven.     The Judge looks up Andore when she spots him though. Something is terribly wrong with the way that man...looks. "If you're the power behind the Wolf Lord...your time will come eventually."     Cirra draws out her Judgement Blade. The blue crystal blade forming instantly as she holds it up in both hands at head height. Another Law card held between her fingers.     "Tonight is the Wolf Lord's reckoning."
Emiya Shirou	Emiya Shirou's quick to burst in. He wants to be near the front not from any desire to have this simply over with and commit bloodshed, but to keep the danger away from the squishier members of the group. Needless to say, he's come wearing ARMOR this time.     Actual, well-fitted, highly articulated plate mail with a grey, white, and blue color scheme. It features a helmet, but his is open-faced. The entire thing is Reinforced to the safe limit for his skill - and that's saying something, for over a year of practice. Needless to say, it's far tougher than ordinary steel in this state, and his reinforced body isn't encumbered much by that extra weight.     He's not been wearing this stuff in Paragon City because it feels ridiculous, but the fantasy world of Galianda? That's another story. This just about fits in perfectly.     Or maybe he should use it in Paragon City. Those heroes there really like their costumes. Even if they're ridiculous costumes...     Well that's a worry for some other time.     The red-haired young man's amber eyes fix quickly on Andore... and his strange weapon. "Gah--" The boy claps a gauntleted hand to the side of his helmet with an ineffectual clang. Something about it doesn't sit well with him.     Well, none of this situation does.     "Harald Wolf-Lord! You didn't win this even with everything working in your favor! Spare yourself and your men this bloodshed and surrender peacefully. Haven't you realized this is just getting people killed for nothing?!"     With a mumbled "trace, on" Shirou gathers his magical power. A fresh set of Kanshou and Bakuya materialize. Just the thing for dealing with a monster like a werewolf, maybe. Or... whatever Andore is.     To the latter, the boy blurts out, "Where do you come from?! You don't look like a native of Shiva or Ramuh... or anywhere else I've been... are you behind this stupid war?!"
Souji Murasame	Souji feels the need to be present for this situation. He moves along with the group, offering input on the inevitable puzzles and traps in his own way along with providing support for the Zaibatsu members present. He is not, however, exerting himself significantly. Apparently, he's letting the people with heroic tendencies put in the work today. He has, however, promised bonuses to members of the Zaibatsu for participation and objective achievement. The primary objective, of course, is to capture or kill Harald Wolf-Lord. He doesn't care which. After all, well-paid workers are happy workers. And happy workers do quality work. The arrival in the throne room has Souji stand to one side. his presence creating a fork in the attention in the room as he watches the holdouts, Harald, and this enigmatic new man on the playing field. "How very shocking. Harald had background support the entire time." Souji comments dryly. He sighs, folding his arms. He doesn't even draw his weapon unless someone is foolish enough to attack him. His eyes narrow at Andore and his weapon, but he keeps his opinion to himself. With a glance to his own people, he gestures. "You may engage when ready."
Mirielle Edelweiss	The attack on the tower was almost academic, and largely a giant ball of weapons and stabbing and things going KERWHSSSSSSSH and fading into red. It was quite satisfying in its own protagonist-style efficency. But now the group was here, at the summit of Harald's power such that it was, and confronted by his...     Mysterious benefactor? No, something... worse than that.     Mirielle tugs at the corner of her glasses, glancing up at the being that introduces itself as 'Andore', and then immediately looks away, shivering. It's not a pleasant feeling - in fact, feeling definitely wrong in a tangible sense. While the previous encounters did not tax them, Mirielle is too shaken by this initial display to have any words of advice or challenge, instead shying away to the back of the party. "That shouldn't exist..." She mutters, summoning up a little magic haltingly. "It doesn't work that way."     While others draw up their front lines, Mirielle is for now content to get back, back taking the rear of things to think - and because she aggressivley doesn't want to contend with whatever Andore is right now.
Nero	Though Saber had nothing to do with this war, she would come anyway. If her Master was going to come and traverse this dungeon, then it would be remiss of her not to follow. And so, she came. With such a large group, there was little need to go ALL OUT, not yet anyway. Working in tandem with Seft, Albert, and Kyra, they took care of anything that ccame their way quite handily. Though she may have elected to shift to spirit form when it came to obstacles.      Their eventual arrival to the top of the tower gives Saber some relief. "Hmph! Cold, desolate, and ill designed! Such a stronghold...I cannot approve of it! It is lacking in beauty!" The Servant exclaimed, pointing her free hand right towards Harald.      Priorities, Saber.      That off of her chest, she hefted Aestus Estus, taking a ready stance as the black and red blade burst to life with flame. "Praetor, I trust you know how to handle this manner of situation." She asided to Kyra with a nod. And then her look turned a bit withering. "I shall trust that I will not be turned into some manner of amphibian for attempting to make use of my abilities now."      She wasn't going to let that MINI thing go.      Seft is given a look as well. "Lady Seft! I shall entrust my side to you! Be glad that I have deigned to bestow such an honor upon you!" Yes, really. With that, Saber faced forward, stepped into the vanguard to do her job. Harald, his small contingent of soldiers, that...man in the back. Of them all, the large one in the hood caught her attention.      She could feel how much energy was coming from him. It was unnatural, given the typical amount she sensed from people of this world. ...Was he even a man? "Mhmhmhm! Hear me, fools! You should feel greatly humbled by the fact that I, Saber, the mightiest Servant of them all, have decided to personally engage in combat with your like!" Pointing her sword forward, she grinned. "Do not disappoint me! The consequences of doing such will be dire!"
Staren	Two major crises down a couple weeks ago -- now here's another one.     Although, it seems like at this point, the threat posed by Harald has become less a 'crisis' and more... wrapping up loose ends.     The dungeon is a slog. What Staren does for the Union could at times be called 'adventuring', but it generally isn't the kind of adventuring that involves clearing out trap-and-monster-filled dungeons. But he's not /entirely/ unused to it, and his experience in the area isn't /entirely/ virtual.     Still, at the end, he makes it throughonly somewhat tired -- the strength-enhancing armor helps, reducing how much energy he uses to move, but that more 'allows him to keep up with experienced adventurers' than it does allow him to not have a problem at all. Still, he's made it through without major damage. The armor is scratched and dented, and bearing a couple of 'scars' where the plating was cleaved or torn through and repair spray has slowly knitted the plates back together over the course of the adventure.     His navigation system says they're at the top floor. "Finally..." he breathes. And then he hears an argument beyond the door. "You're kidding me... well, at least if they're fighting, that makes this easier..."     They're not fighting. But at last they see Harald's /patron/... and something about him isn't right. Staren suspects and illusion spell, but his sensors confirm 'Andore' is there. Huh.     At least he seems to be the stand-back-and-watch type? Will they only be fighting Harald, then? It seems so. The sudden Dragoon's comment about the spear is a minor concern for now.     The wolflord is charging. Staren raises his arm and fires the dual beam cannons, then follows it up with a homing AP micromissile -- both to see how effective it is against Wolflord, and his response to a homing projectile.     Their own meleers will no doubt be charging in now, but Staren now forms up behind Seft, with Kyra, taking up a position as a ranged combatant and looking for opportunities to support. Normally he'd at least /consider/ melee, but one look at Harald Wolflord discourages that: Big strong dudes who can grab him and crush him or use close-in attacks are basically his weakness. He'll stay in the back this fight.
Zwei	It seems like about time, doesn't it? Zwei's been relatively hands off on this one for reasons unknown after managing the broad tactical work of the last battle that had broken Harald's trump card and crushes his army's backbone, content to seemingly do nothing but wait and watch the situation unfold as it will from there, free of its interference. Only when the Wolf Lord's defeat seems certain does it once again add its contributions to the effort, though at this point it seems more than a little excessive. With so many Elites here, surely an overwhelming victory was already guaranteed. Why then is it Asche instead of Weiss that has traversed the tower near every step of the way? /*Holy and fire huh? Not really willing to try. Silver's easy though.*/ //There is ample reason to stay apart from the narrative.// /*Or Pattern or whatever.*/ //Both senses are correct.// /*Gungnir. Parallels to the Norse god Odin, also the god of this world's metal continent. First order. Odynari.*/ //I doubt the connection is so literal.//     Despite his intimidating size, the battle Armiger stands at the very back of the group, last to enter, towering over all save Andore, with whom he looks at roughly eye to eye, or rather optical band to hooded shadow. "Unsurprising, but best to see for oneself all the same." He rumbles towards Souji of all people, the growling electric distortion in his synthesized voice reflected weirdly from the prisms of ice and crystal, the centrally illuminated point of that lurid red visor sweeping towards Archer next. "An end only in the sense of the beginning of another. Everything is doomed in that way. It is an old word for fated." Finally it sweeps back to Harald, and then Andore, along with an intense wave of mixed radiation, though imperceptible to anyone who isn't using a scanner designed to pick it up. "Your last words will be dutifully recorded, and preserved for longer than Shiva will ever stand, but at this point, I believe neither of us have anything that will convince the other." There is the brief, almost inaudible whine of charging electronics.
Staren	Two major crises down a couple weeks ago -- now here's another one.     Although, it seems like at this point, the threat posed by Harald has become less a 'crisis' and more... wrapping up loose ends.     The dungeon is a slog. What Staren does for the Union could at times be called 'adventuring', but it generally isn't the kind of adventuring that involves clearing out trap-and-monster-filled dungeons. But he's not /entirely/ unused to it, and his experience in the area isn't /entirely/ virtual.     Still, at the end, he makes it throughonly somewhat tired -- the strength-enhancing armor helps, reducing how much energy he uses to move, but that more 'allows him to keep up with experienced adventurers' than it does allow him to not have a problem at all. Still, he's made it through without major damage. The armor is scratched and dented, and bearing a couple of 'scars' where the plating was cleaved or torn through and repair spray has slowly knitted the plates back together over the course of the adventure.     His navigation system says they're at the top floor. "Finally..." he breathes. And then he hears an argument beyond the door. "You're kidding me... well, at least if they're fighting, that makes this easier..."     They're not fighting. But at last they see Harald's /patron/... and something about him isn't right. Staren suspects and illusion spell, but his sensors confirm 'Andore' is there. Huh.     At least he seems to be the stand-back-and-watch type? Will they only be fighting Harald, then? It seems so. The sudden Dragoon's comment about the spear is a minor concern for now.     The wolflord is... waiting for them to come to him, through a small army. "Tch, seriously? Some leader you are. Even now, your life is more important than your followers'..." Tiredness fading with adrenaline as the fight starts, Staren raises his arm, trying to get a shot at the Wolflord if he can but settling for Shivan Irregulars if he can't, and fires the dual beam cannons, then follows it up with a homing AP micromissile which /will/ attempt to fly over obstacles and other combatants to get to Harald himself -- Staren's curious to see how effective it is against Wolflord damage-wise, and about his response to a homing projectile. (Staren reloaded his armor's missile racks before climbing the last stairs).     Their own meleers will no doubt be charging in now, but Staren now forms up behind Seft, with Kyra, taking up a position as a ranged combatant and looking for opportunities to support. Normally he'd at least /consider/ melee, but one look at Harald Wolflord discourages that: Big strong dudes who can grab him and crush him or use close-in attacks are basically his weakness. He'll stay in the back this fight.
Archer	It had been a bloody affair. An expected one, that is... but no less unpleasant to wade through.     Having entered the final bastion of Shiva's self-proclaimed ruler and protector, the strike team had fought through the last of his loyalists to get here... and Archer couldn't ignore the visible desperation in their fights.     The death-throws of a culture who's last hopes they were about to destroy along with Harold Wolf-Lord.     The Red Knight had worked to try and conserve his prana reserves for this fight, holding back at least enough to ensure the use of Unlimited Blade Works if it came down to it - after all, given what Harold had used the last time they had fought him, Archer wouldn't have been surprised to find he had one final trick up his sleeve. Even more so since, barring the miraculous, this would be the warlord's last stand. Thus he'd played the support role, sniping out enemies when they showed openings... or were distracted by others.     However... what the Servant of the Bow had /not/ expected was the tall, roughly-humanoid form that had, from the tone of their conversation, had been the one that gifted Harold the so-called 'job crystal' that had been used in the last fight. Moreover, it didn't seem like the creature, identifying itself as 'Andore', was at all surprised by their arrival.     Perhaps it had even planned for this to happen... or at least made preparations for this eventuality.     More disconcerting though... is the weapon the giant wields - an immense spear that is almost two separate existences, layered atop the other... and even worse is when the weapon is identified by one of their group with a name he recognizes; Gungnir, a primordial spear of the war-gods in Gaelic and Norse mythology and the weapon of the god-king Odin.     And this weapon seemed almost more powerful then the one he knew.      As expected, Harold doesn't take well to seeing them... and in listening to Harold's claims and the words of 'Andore'... Archer couldn't help but feel a slight pang of sympathy. Even though his face was impassive and tone hard as iron, Archer's words were those of one who understood the Wolf-Lord's position; "I see... so that was how it was? You put yourself at the mercy of a devil's bargain in order to give your people a future... or was it just for revenge against the al Cid family, perceived by you as delivering 'justice' for any perceived wrongs?"     The bowman closes his eyes as if in contemplation, letting out a breath through his nose; "Either way, it ends here, and at the very least I can promise you will have your death by battle as opposed to the cruelty of seeing your nation waste away. However... a word of warning; Whatever you were promised, it is unlikely you would have gotten what you expected or wanted. The Shivan people are all but doomed... though not, I believe, by your own fault alone. If anything, your people were always moving toward this end - you simply expedited an inevitability. In fact... I wonder how much of this even was your fault in the end." His words, while addressed to Harold, seem to also be commentaries directed to Cirra and Shirou - as if cynically questioning them on whether this war is truly the fault of Harold or even Andore alone as opposed to something that had been festering for years.     After all... battles and wars are like dances and conversations and the rest of human interaction in history; it needed a willing opponent.      "Trace; On."      In this particular battle, a nation was about to fall... and they were about to deliver it's death-blow. Archer's addition to that is a series of projected blades suspended in mid-air, divided into two different fields - half were copies of Audrey Stormfist's fire-sword while the others were nameless silver blades. Both of which would counter Harold's magical affinities and lycanthrope nature.     At the same time, he is careful to make sure his aim excludes 'Andore' his instincts telling him not to try and include the cloaked form into the battle unless absolutely ne
Landon al Cid	The men outside are no concern to the raging battlefield at the tower's top. Kamon, however, is. The young Odynari barrels into the fight and shatters axes and swords with his fine-crafted tools. The katana and dagger carve through the Irregulars without trouble. They're nothing but mooks, after all. Their blood paints the crystalline floor, splattering it a sickly red.      Andore turns slightly at the voice of Dragoon Man. A deep chuckle rolls out of that cloak. "Dragoon," The word is full of hate, of malice, of black accusations and raw, unrestrained fury as Andore takes another step forward. From underneath his cloak, there's a roar, and an explosion of...wind?!?...that sweeps at the Dragoon Hero as he lands in the midsts of the Irregulars. Several Irregulars are tossed at Sanary as a result, weapons flying through the air! Those scanning Andore can tell that that wind wasn't magical, either...what?      One of the Irregulars breaks away, going after Kyra with a heavy axe! Bulging muscles swing the hunk of metal, heedless of Albert's tanking or Red Saber's abilities. His anger motivates them more than sense - the man's a berserker! As the axe comes down, it bursts into white-hot flames, a grin on his lips.      Several of the Irregulars fall back, raising bayonetted rifles and levelling them at Lyria and her drones. There's a ring of blasts as electric shots go screaming past the battle, targetting the machine-type monster's commonly understood weak point!      Dominic goes over the irregulars and jams his blade directly into Harald. The rapier stabs into the Werewolf Morpher, jamming into the magical pattern around him. It punches through to his very real arm, and the wolf-lord howls in fury and pain as blood spurts forth. "It will not end! Not as long as I draw breath! And if you kill me I will become a symbol, a legend! Those who believe in a strong Shiva will never die!"      "Traitor!" Harald spits and curses at Cirra, "You and those like you would see the whole world under Ramuh's heel! You have traded your nation into the hands of the enemy!" Harald throws back his head and howls, and a magical effect falls over the Irregulars. They seem emboldened by Harald's howl, redoubling their efforts to land a blow on their attackers. Harald himself bounds through the group, reaching for Dominic with massive claws to drag him along on the way to Cirra. He even tries to *fling* Dominic into Cirra with superhuman strength!
Landon al Cid	"I will live eternal in song!" Harald howls at Shirou, flinging several of the discarded weapons at the Faker, "I will be a symbol for all men who dream of freedom! In a hundred years the name of Harald Wolf-Lord will be the name of revolutionaries! Even if I die today, Shiva will be free! Shiva will stand strong! If my death is the price I must pay for that, then I will pay it gladly!"      Andore's hooded gaze falls on Souji for a brief moment. Then it passes. It also sweeps over Mirielle, and it passes her by, too. When Saber challenges him directly, however, there's a snort that ruffles the hood, like the snarl of a great beast, or a vast chuckle.      "You smell like magic, creature. Let us see what you're capable of. Perhaps you'll be worthy to be my meal. Gungnir! Face her."      The spear leaps out of his hand in an instant. Around it manifests the shadowy shade of a Dragoon, a faceless Dragoon in the standard blue armor. The spear is still massive, but the Dragoon wields it effortlessly, leaping high into the air and then crashing downwards onto Saber. The spear burns with holy magic as it falls, spiralling trails of white.      Staren's beams sear the Wolf-Lord's skin. The micromissiles collide with him, sending him sprawling backwards, and opening the way for Archer's silver blades. The blades stab into Harald in every angle, leaving him bleeding. The wolf armor disippates.      "I...I..." Harald spits, "I want...I want my country strong...I cannot...leave it...yet..."
Landon al Cid	"Oh?" Andore paces forward. Is he hunching over? He might be. There's a weird hook to his hood, "I thought your life was a price you would gladly pay. Perhaps you should admit it, wolf-lord. You lost. You lost the key to your victory, and you were beaten by these people. They're much more than you give them credit for. Your blind, stubborn stupidity has led you to this point, even though all you had to do was follow the map I drew."      Andore shrugs. -does he have extra shoulders coming out of his back?!      "If you admit your weakness, though...perhaps I will find it in my heart to do something. Pray, Harald Wolf-Lord. Pray for the power."      "G..." Harald spits blood, "Great Andore...m-my men die, bleeding on th-the ice. M-my people have turned...upon me, to hide behind Ramuhan skirt. My nation is crumbling. My d-dream is dead."      "All I have left...is vengeance..."      The lights in the room die in an instant. Sources of light, the strange blue candles, the howling snow outside - they all die. Everyone in the room can still see everyone and everything else, but it's as if the landscape has been swallowed up by an oppressive darkness, an immense force.      Andore holds up one of those scale-mail gloves, roiling with black power. "Very well. UNRAVELLING."      Harald screams and comes apart at the seams. He is undone like thread being pulled from a canvas, not so much ripped apart as wriggled apart. The corpses of the Irregulars around him are unwoven as well, the tangles of flesh and blood streaming upwards into the air. Andore flicks a finger casually in the direction of the party, and the streams begin to weave together, one over the other, as if he was building a person out of a pattern.      A very large person.      What emerges is a monster. It is like the werewolf form of Harald, but it is also not. Torsos emerge from its shoulders, wielding massive axes. Its claws are metal, apparently literally swords welded to it by the dark power Andore wields. Its teeth gleam with similar metal, and its eyes are collections of the fallen gunners' weaponry.      Andore steps backwards as the huge nightmare opens its jaws.      "FoR ShIvA!" it howls, and lunges forward. A sweep of its claws tears through the air, sending shockwaves across the field at *everyone* as the blue lights flicker back to life.
Nero	Pointing her blade at Andore, Saber found herself disappointed that the man...that /is/ a man, right? Well, whatever he was, he instead sent his /weapon/ to fight her. How dare he send a disembodied weapon to fight to against? Even if it is brimming with- "Ah." She paused in her thoughts as she witnessed the spear take on the form of a shade that grasped the weapon itself.      And then it Jumped.      Saber grinned. "Very well! I will show you what error it is that you have made by sending a lone spear to face me!" Aestus Estus flared up and the Servant reared back. Prana gathered into her feet and then she launched herself upwards, meeting the shade Dragoon head on in mid air. Remembering the words of a certain insufferable Servant she fought with some time back, Saber did not hesitate, and did not make any needless flourishes.      She swung precisely when she needed to, not sooner, and not later, focusing a burst of strength to clash with the descending phantom warrior. The meeting of weapons creating a shower of sparks.      "Haaaaaaaaaaaaaah!"
Audrey Stormfist	The way the hooded man unravels Harald and his men, there's no mistaking it. There aren't many forces in Galianda that can do that to a person, much less rebuild a number of them so... seamlessly. Audrey frowns, and braces as the attacks start coming. Both arms cross in front of her body to form an X, and she concentrates her magic into her arms, hardening them like steel.     The shockwave slams into her, tearing the sleeves off her coat outright. Her armored gauntlets, and hardened arms, hold tight, droplets of blood blowing past her in the wind from the pressure.     And then the Heritor moves.     In an instant she crosses the field, coming up behind NERO/RED SABER. The Gungnirgoon crashes down towards the Servant, and so the Heritor leaps up instead, raising a single fist as the magitech cannon on that gauntlet primes itself.     "I understand that you are Hyral's Servant, but if you could abstain from making the same life-threatening and absurd decision SHE always does, it would spare us needless fights!" Rant rant. It's doubtful Nero even cares.     Audrey's intent is to land her own downward punch onto the 'Dragoon', as it would clash with Nero. On impact, the magitech cannon fires as well, amplifying the punch with a burst of fire and raw energy, trying to socket the warrior into the floor.
Sanary Rondel	If that wind wasn't magical, then did that mean Andore is just that strong? Sanary's face cracks into a small grin at that, the idea that she'd have to look into his source of power not lost on her. Alas, there's more important things for her to worry about for the time being: Those Irregulars coming straight for Sanary! The good is thing is she's got that heavy duty shield of hers, and hunkering down behind it does keep her from getting buried and taken out by corpses.      Andore's goading of Harald into pleading for power draws a disgusted scowl from the healer. "Idiot... Could've made something better of yourself if you didn't... Whatever." Sanary groans lightly as she removes herself from that small pile of Irregulars, putting some magical energy into her eye while scanning what was once Harald again.      "He's weak against Holy, too. So... Uh. That and fire!" And with that, she puts a little more into her eye and takes careful aim, then fires a heat laser at the abomination. She does take care to aim it away from the others engaging him, though, although she also keeps the staff on hand just in case rapid healing is needed afterwards.
Dominic Masoch	The Wolf Lord's massive claw comes in on Dominic and gets him around the midsection, taking him up off his feet and constricting around him. He lets out a cry of pain as he's dragged and attempted to be thrown towards Cirra. Luckily for her, once released, he forcibly slams a leg down upon being thrown. His ankle twists painfully, but instead of shooting into her, he shoots past her and comes to a rolling stop along the floor.     As he pushes to his feet, he limps a bit, nursing the wounded ankle and gingerly trying to assess how damaged he is. Eventually (to the horror of medical professionals everywhere), he decides to just play on and go through the pain. So he plants the foot down firmly and dashes in again.     Only now, his opponent has gone from one kind of monster to another. A Chaos-twisted beast of undead horror. And Dominic has to face it head on, steadying his breath and gripping the sword in his hand. He doesn't betray the fear in his heart or the stone in his gut as he dashes in.     >Blade Arts     >Oil Blade     Dominic swings the blade in a thrust towards Harald's monstrous new form and the length of it becomes slick and black with a viscous looking form of mana. He aims in for slashing and thrusting strikes.     Status Inflict: Oil     Hopefully whoever does a Fire attack this round will find it incredibly heightened by the status effect.
Kyra Hyral	Albert makes a fantastic tank, it's true. But at the same time, it's also nice to have a /literal/ tank on her side as well. As the Irregular comes after Kyra with that flaming axe, Kyra takes full advantage of the Remoraid left behind and dives underneath it for cover, letting it absorb the blow and tie the berserker up for a few precious seconds. Those were precious seconds that Albert could make use of to strike back against the man.     She feels a small swell of pride when Saber aggros Andore, especially since it sounds like it annoyed Audrey Stormfist /just/ a little bit. Even Saber's huffy ribbing at the earlier Mini cannot deter her. Her excitement fades slightly not as the Gungir is deployed against her but moreso as foul magic is used to mold Harald and his fallen Irregulars into an outright abomination. Kyra's quick to cast another Scan so she can characterize this new beast. "Chaosspawn!" she shrieks, unable to help, years of indoctrination in Cosma's teachings firmly labeling what she has seen.     Kyra doesn't even bother with trying to buff people now. She flicks a hand outward in a grand motion once she picks herself up on her feet, white light sparkling across her palm. Today, the Holy spell manifests itself as a point explosion centered at the former Harald's head. "Heard you were weak to holy!!"
Starbound Flotilla	"That a fact? I'll bring the silver pain if I can get a chance." George says, in a playful tone, to Audrey. He moves on from her, though, assaulting as ordered.     "Alert. Allies have detected fire weakness." Seft says, to her Core Fleet, and then to Red Saber, she gives a firm nod. "Affirming. Take your target. I will clear them from you. I will make sure you face your challenge without interference."     "Orders received, Murasame. Core squad, charge." Albert says. Then he blasts forward, coming in to flank the cover Kyra hid behind, and with a gutteral, guerilla-like scream, he attempts a heavy power-hammer swing upwards at the attacker with horrifically bone-breaking force, hopefully killing him... in time for his body to be reconstructed into the main body's form.     "Watch yerself, lass!" Pavo calls out to Sanary! "Ye got incomin'!" But she probably knows, even if the incoming aren't being deployed in the normal way. Pavo's agility doesn't make her a good tank, but she can at the very lease dart through the incoming mass of bodies and weapons, striking through them to try and disrupt the flow of hostile metal that might impact Sanary!     The Starbounders observe the man turned into many men in a horrific amalgam. The remaining irregulars aren't going to attack...? Good. Seft, George, and Biteblade launch forward. Pavo, Albert, and Moonfin stay behind, still on the defensive. Despite the heated battle so far, they don't know what the foe here is capable of. Moonfin cleaves the air and slams his heavy katana into the ground, splitting the shockwave before it reaches Souji, but the rest of the Starbounders suffer a sudden loss of endurance from the strike! They focus for now, though, recovering quickly through the enhancements of their armor.     The Shade Dragoon is dealt with. With the party of three dashing forward, their weapons light up with a brilliant flame. Seft drags her power battleaxe along the ground, creating a wave of fire and a harsh wall in her wake, before swinging the sparking thing in a tremendous upswing at the Haraldoid. Biteblade tries to leap and land onto the neck, where the shoulders are, and plunge her heavy knives into one of the torsos long enough for her helmet to open and let her devour some of that meat for a cannibalistic power boost. George leaps clean over on a shining red trail of thruster exhaust, dropping a line of grenades and trying to get behind, enough to land on and grapple the other. Each assault is timed perfectly to find itself in the gaps of the other attacks, using Albert's extensive tactical experience to get the Flotilla out of the way whenever possible, and keep them brutally engaging the enemy otherwise.
Cirra Constantine	"You are completely deluded!" Cirra shouts back. "Your men have scattered! The Confederacy recognizes you not as a hero, but as a madman!" She surges forward, shouldering her way through any resisting irregulars and steps nimbly sideways as Harald tries to throw Dominic at her and claw her. "You'll never be what you think you are. Because you started as nothing but a raider! how can you care about Shiva, when your entire life has been spent pillaging it's people?!"     Then...then Andore /remakes/ Harald. Cirra takes a step back in shock, even the normally unflappable Judge looks surprised. "What...have you done?" she whispers. She doesn't have time to gawk though as Harald takes a swing at everyone. The judge is blown backwards, rolling across the ground until she comes to a stop. She lifts herself back up to her feet and snaps the Judgement blade out, the blade splitting in half as it turns into a rifle. "And now... you've proven it. You sad, miserable creature, so consumed with hatred that you give yourself over to this..."     "To CHAOS!" She fires the weapon, crystaline shards flying through the air to try and stab into Harald's mutated form, and exploding.
Staren	Staren is surprised. His weapons did more damage to Harald Wolflord then expected. They have this one in the bag...     There's still an axeman charging for Kyra, though. Staren doesn't even need to think about it. In one quick motion, he draws his plasma saber, activates it, and leaps forward, trying to run the man through with his right hand, while grabbing the man's arm with his left, trying to force it down slowly. It's true that Staren lacks grappling /skill/, but the armor gives him the strength of a strongman, and maybe against a mook he can use that... "You've lost... This is foolish! Your leader is a madman, and that's all he'll be remembered for, when Shivans and Ramuhans prosper together..."     The lights go out. No... The darkness came... on?     Staren can only stare as the soldier before him is unmade, and used for spare parts to make... /that/. What the hell is /that/?! Staren stares for a moment. No... They've got a long battle ahead of them.     "Holy weapons..." Staren echoes, when potential weaknesses are discussed. He never knows how the Annihilator will interact with stuff like that, but it's worth a shot (ha). Staren deactivates the saber and clips it back to his armor in another practiced motion, reaching into his bag for something.     That something is an oversized revolver with a chrome finish and engraved with a triple-M monogram. It looks heavy, but in the armor, Staren can wield it without difficulty. Staren steps back next to Kyra, between her and Andore, and raises the revolver in a two-handed grip, carefully aiming, and waiting for the next time the 'Dragoon' attacks or jumps, then leading his shot for the end of the motion.     Then Staren fires, two bullets leaving the barrel at once, one behind the other. The Annihilators were forged by Mad Morg McGee before he became a god, to put down the supernatural monsters that prey upon mortals. Whether any of that will give it extra effectiveness in this situation... well, it's a kind of science experiment, isn't it? Throw science at the wall and see if it sticks. Or rather, shoot science into the monster and see how much it hurts. It's what a mad scientist god would want.
Zwei	Bone structure notably outside of human boundaries, or really even likely humanoid proportions. Biosigns all over the place. Weird mass silhouette. Extraneous limbs. That and the fact he's twelve feet tall. It's screamingly obvious within literal picoseconds that Andore, assuming the name is legitimate, isn't human, and probably isn't even close. Bestial snorts, blasts of wind, and a lack of clattering armour despite clearly wearing scale, not to mention some sort of winged shrug and an immediate fixation on dragoons. Come to think of it, Zwei still hasn't seen a Galiandan dragon, and as a further matter of fact, almost nobody else here has either. Even the secondhand information is woefully lacking.     The species is less relevant than the magic however, or possibly anti-magic if it's the power of Chaos at work here, by this world's standards. Zwei has no knowledge of anything else in Galianda that is specialized in unravelling Patterns at the base level. It's an impressive, and absurdly lethal display, but not one the Licht or its Armigers immediately have reason to fear, being of a fundamentally different nature of existence. The spear is also a concern of its own, supposedly able to fight by wielding itself and possessed of some level of mystical divinity, though everything expressed so far, both in person and via radio, is so rooted in mysticism, folklore and vague parallel that there's no hard evidence to judge which is a bigger issue by.     Fair enough. Asche will fight as it becomes appropriate.     Hardpoint thrusters quietly burst to life as the shockwave rips through the frigid air, freeing the ground of Asche's multi-ton mass and letting the wave slice by beneath him. The Armiger remains suspended for several moments, gravity perfectly counteracted by precise output so that the black, armoured silhouette doesn't so much as bob in mid-air, almost as if he were at a loss for a strategy. Eventually however, Asche descends back to earth, carbon support talons clacking delicately against the crystalline floor, before instantaneously shattering it as he explodes forward on foot instead, spraying glassy shrapnel over the back wall as his sizable mass becomes a black blurr and a trailing streak of red light.     He crashes into the amalagamate with a supersonic roar, hitting the monster with sheer, brute force, but ultimately the former Harald doesn't seem to be his prime target, instead a convenient feint and vector of changing direction. The impact is deadly, certainly, but serves mainly to obscure the Armiger most of the way across the room, before physically vaulting over the monster and coming down on Andore with a blinding, flash jab.
Lyria Mason	Lyria Mason is going to trust the troops outside to keep things goin g as they have the team in here's job was to capture or kill the Wolf Lord right? So that's what she's here to do. Heck she's even ignored the treasure form earlier too. She's now dealing with some irregulars it looks like this is what she'll be dealing with. Remora's taking a good deal of fire and it can't opens it's maw to fire as much as it's like or it will expose itself but it will risk shots a they blasts come it's way. Lyria herself is opening fire on the Irregulars she needs to get though them after all to get to the Wolf Lord. This is a full out fight she's fighting to win but any who will stay down? She will leave them own. Then a strange power is used something strange is going on with Harald and the stranger. she watches in abject horror as something unholy happens even as this happens? Remora would ignore it's own well being in an attempt to protect Kyra by intercepting but it might be too late. However as this happens the drones stop attacking the surviving Irregulars who have now turned to see the horror that had been their leader. "...By the Serpent's coils what fel power this?!" With the remaining Irregulars either backing them up or getting out of the way she turns her pistol's attention on the thing that used to be the wolf lord and she just opens fire not letting up. There's a word coming to her mind and she keeps trying to not focus on it for what might just have happened. She doesn't even want to think it's name if she can help it. Thankfully not getting killed between the weapon the former wolf lord and the mysterious man is a very good distraction for that. She leaps into the air flipping and spingng as she goes. Several of her spiders had gone down in the Irregulars attack but the ones which remain are moving to help support them by making ice barriers and what not to give them cover. It's funny how quick things change isn't it. She's also darn well going to give covering fire to whom ever is fighting the thing that was once a man. Remora seeing at this point that Albert has things handled it's going to turn about and move to find another Then Cirra out and says it and Lyria finds the courage to speak up. "SO THIS IS WHAT YOU WILL DO GIVE YOUR SELF OVER TO THE ENEMY OF EXTIANCE ITSELF?!" She's totally still shooting too.
Soan Sagittarius	Soan smashs through irregulars. This never was the danger, he knew that. They are mere obstacles to the true. The Dragoon sweeps with his great spear, screaming out. "OUT OF MY WAY!" His swings goes wild, as several Irregulars are lifted from the ground and, he, too, can feel himself being blown back by some strange exploding wind sweeps him off his feet. The armoured young man clangs loudly on the ground, rolling with the wind. He vaults himself on his feet, growling loudly beneath his breath. He knows what he is. Of course he does. Chaos spawns knows of Dragoons quite well.      Then something horrible happens. Unraveling Harald is perhaps one of the worse things he could think of happening to the man. He was a bit mad, crazy, ruthless, but nobody deserves such a fate. Nobody at all. Following this foul act, comes the consequences.      Dragoon Man visibly recoils as the nightmare Werewolf is created, his greatspear clanging down to the ground as he takes several stumbles back. A low, deep, angered smouldering hiss raises from the Dragoon's form as he holds a hand toward his face, clasping at where a human's nose would be, the 'snout' in his helmet's case.      "Rrrrnnggg..." Soan says, recovering himself from the intense stench of the enemy, manifesting his Great spear in his hand as he glares at not Harald, but Andore behind him. "YOU... FOUL CHAOS SPAWN!" Dragoon Man roars out, charging straight for Harald. He does not engage the unforunate Rebellion Leader, instead opting to leap above the sword-clawed abomination. Several lacerations slices against his armor, leaving a trail of elemental energy trailing behind him as he soars through the air. His spear, spinning above him like a windmill. The Great Spear's tip^glows, gathering searing, bright light as he brings it down with all of his momentum, his rage and slightly cloudy head from scenting the Enemy quite so close.
Souji Murasame	There is a faint scowl on Souji's face as his gaze meets Andore's, as if he is tasting something rancid. He doesn't raise his hand, or adopt a combat stance, simply standing there like he is in the eye of the storm as the battle rages around him. The shockwave rolls around him, only for Moonfin to split it at the last moment, making everything look awesome and cinematic. He similarly does not waste his time screaming and showing his anger at the display of Chaotic power. Instead he holds up his hand, forging a Pattern as he casts a spell. "Haste-2." He calls out, orange light washing over the Zaibatsu members and speeding their action times up dramatically. It looks like he's decided to provide support now, at least.
Archer	It could almost be called tragic. He could hardly deny that Harold Wolf-Lord would likely be remembered in history... though whether he would be remembered as a savior, martyr, warmonger or fool would be up to debate. In all honesty though, Archer doubted history would be kind - it never was kind to anyone.      Yet again, as the warlord is pierced by Archer's weapons, the bowman's steel gaze conceals a muted sympathy. The kind that can only be shared by someone who has also thrown away everything they had for the sake of a doomed ideal. "Regardless, leave it you shall. And in time, perhaps the fact that you gave up so much for their sakes, and for such an unattainable goal, will lessen the severity of their tales of you, Harold Wolf-Lord."      ...      But then... it of course all becomes worse.     For the first time since the final march started, the bowman's impassive expression cracks, gritting his teeth with eyes widening in shock as Harold Wolf-Lord throws away what little life and pride he had left to become a tool of revenge against those that had cast his nation to the ground.     It wasn't really unexpected. After all, what else could be expected from a man who had nothing left to lose? All he had left was exacting vengeance on those that had left him nothing.     What was /not/ expected was the power 'Andore' wielded - the magic that was akin to the alteration of the body that the Matou could use... but not in such a concentrated effort, nor anywhere near as seamless. A monstrosity that could put even the Shadow to shame.     And it had been done in an instant.     Just what were they facing here? What power could possibly have had such an interest in this place?      ... regardless, one thing became readily apparent; they couldn't just let these two run free.     No matter the cost. % Streams of prana then flash to life around him, a field of small blades materializing around him. Unlike his prior weapons, these are all narrow and seem rather fragile-looking, barely more then short rapiers with black handles. However, the holy wards imprinted on them are still easy to detect as they are scattered across the area, all now easily accessible to the assorted combatants for use against their enemies.      Black keys. The weapons of Church Executioners. Weapons that were made to be purification tools, specifically designed for use in exorcisms and demon-slaying.     In Archer's hands however, two rather different tools appear - one is his western-style longbow... and the other, a long gleaming blade with a golden hilt and black markings, it's design seeming to have been crafted by hands that could never have belonged to mere mortals.     And in fact it had not, having been gifted to the king Charlemagne by an angle, and from the King it was passed to the Paladin Roland.     Knocking the weapon back on his bow, it's form twists into a comparatively more unsightly form, lengthening and warping to become an arrow even as it's palpable aura of holy energy remains intact.      "/I am the bone of my sword./"     What seems to be a nimbus of purifying energy begins to pour and condense around the tip of the weapon, light gathering into and throughout the blessed sword until it's form reaches the breaking point-      "DURANDAL!"     -and takes flight like a lance hurled by God himself toward Harold's form, imbued with divine power as if delivering his wrath upon the unholy.     A more then fitting weapon to use against the monsters before them.
Mirielle Edelweiss	This situation is... bad. Really bad. Well, that's self-evident to those who have a brain. Even those Shivan Irregulars that had once been their enemies had turned on Harald and 'Andore' - those that had not become part of Harald, Undead Behemoth.     The whole scenario has shell-shocked poor Mirielle, whose strongly held faith that something like this was beyond reason has been neatly shattered. It is a struggle for her to simply act, shivering in the back and leaning on her staff as she does, as the battle is joined by more heroic types.     Heroes. They're battling chaos, and some sort of Chaos Divine Summoned-But-Not Being who can casually rewrite someone's pattern... And she's shivering in a dark corner (well, now EVERYTHING is a dark corner, but grant her this small moment). Afraid.     But wasn't being heroic the dream? Fighting against her nature, denying the lot she was given and doing everything in her power to change, to acquire the lofty goal of breaking her proscribed destiny for something greater - wasn't this that sort of opportunity?     Well, standing up and helping in the fight was a good feather in her hat for this. "The odds here are astronomically poor." She announces shakily, to anyone who is listening to the terrified girl in the back. "I suppose this won't slow any of /you/ down." She adds, beginning to incant two spells simultaneously - Faith and Bravery - to increase everyone's attack parameters. She couldn't Holy up their weapons, but she could darn sure make the hits they made hurt a deal more.
Emiya Shirou	Well.     So much for reasoning with Harald. Shirou makes the most freaked out face he's physically capable of, actually taking a few steps back. There's an urge to hurl, but he suppresses that wave of nausea. What. WHAT.     WHAT is Andore?!     The creature comes in swinging with more speed, strength, and fury than he's prepared for. Shirou goes full defense, twin weapons clanging together in cross blocks to diverge axes and spears and other weapons... but Shirou's overwhelmed. A few blows strike gaps in the armor, one axe cleaves through the steel of his breast plate in the side but only barely draws blood. He leaps back, abandoning his weapons in favor of something else. He can't face that thing in melee. He wants to, but it's too much for him. It needs to be driven back, crippled... OBLITERATED.     And that means reaching for power that's not so easily attained himself.     "My body... /is made of swords!!/"     In one hand, his black bow forms. In the other... a swirling mass of semi-rigid prana. One that he feels confident in enough to draw it back Japanese-style, as opposed to Archer's western archery. Shirou grunts and groans, his brain hitting overload. The fire of his soul forge burns hit, churning through a design he has been continuously trying to improve. A silvery-blue longsword with a bulging, but smooth hilt and no guard. The work of fairies and sister sword of the ultimate blade of Earth.     A holy sword itself. The holy sword of the sun!     "Excaaaaaalibur..."     Flames flow from the hilt out to the tip. Golden-yellow with hints of orange. They somehow don't ignite the bow, but quickly redouble in intensity and streamline, coaelscing near the tip as Shirou shapes the weapon inexpertly... but sufficient for such a short range shot.     "GALATINE!!"     He may not have that much prana to spare for it. It might very well be a crappy knock-off. But it's still the best thing he can think of for the situation.     A burning 'arrow' wreathed in Holy Fire, and charged to an unstable limit with over a hundred units of his prana flies at Harald-Monster!     And should it strike, it'll erupt in a dome of searing holy sunfire!
Landon al Cid	The collision between Saber and Lance(r) is collosal. The impact sends cracks through the crystalline floor, blowing back living Irregulars close - and unfortunate - enough. The sparks grind against each other as the phantasmal Dragoon hangs there for an instant, faceless and unsettling. It plants its foot against the Gungnir - agains *itself*? - and Jumps again, dodging awy from the Magitech Cannon and punch. The Gungnir grinds against the sword as though it was dancing. The Dragoon lands away from the spear, ninja-running forward to catch both Saber and Audrey in a breath weapon blast from its mouthless, faceless helm. The blast is fire, lightning, wind, ice, metal - a storm of all the elements Dragoons commonly use, spinning towards the Servant and the Heritor!
Landon al Cid	Faith and Bravery bolster the strength of the party, falling across those who need its aid. Mirielle's magic spreads rapidly as Dominic scatters oil all over the nightmare wolf. It soaks the creature from head to toe in an instant, splattering all over. This is excellently-timed - Sanary fires great flaming eyebeams into the giant undead wolf-nightmare. The wolf-nightmare howls as fire scores across its flesh, melting...well, it doesn't have FUR, it just has hair, but it melts the hair nonetheless, and ignites the oil on its arm. The undead creature flails a massive claw in Sanary's direction, bringing it down hard enough to shake the floor. The axe-men on its shoulder swing at Dominic, attempting to claw at the swordsman who is surely just a fencer and tear him to shreds before he does something like THAT again.      A burst of holy light explodes in the wolf's jaws. The grotesquerie's flesh bubbles, an unpleasant smell filling the room. The creature swings its other meaty claw at Kyra, identifying her as the other largest source of pain dealt upon it. The claw comes down for her and Set alike as the Starbounders sweep against the shoulder-parts. Seft's axe hits the massive claw, bursting it into flames as the oil catches, but will Seft be able to get out of the way in time?      Meanwhile, Biteblade digs in, and the taste is like that of a corpse - which Biteblade apparently digs, so that's great! The grenades explode around the other torso, tearing hunks off the monster, and giving George more than enough time grapple one of the meaty torsos. But the torso is stronger than it looks - will George be alright, as it moves to crush him? Will Biteblade be able to withstand the retaliation from that massive, berserking fist?      Cirra fires crystalline shards into the Wolf-thing. The shards erupt, sending chunks of its flesh flying, and distracting the torso attempting to crush George enough for George to really get a handle on it. A loud yowl of pain erupts from the wolf, a multi-layered, multi-vocaled bestial yowl. The yowl intensifies as Staren fires into the same wounds with the monster-slaying Annihilator, and the wounds fester and burn from the combined force of Judge magic imposing order and the Annihilator imposing swift death to evil.      Lyria's drones give covering fire, striking at several of the axes and blades. As the wolf's head comes down to try and scoop up anyone directly in front of it, the drones crash into it, knocking out several of its blade-forged teeth. The tainted weapons fall, oozing blackness.
Landon al Cid	Durandal emerges as the Black Keys fall to the hands of those not armed with holy magic of their own. The holy weapon becomes an arrow, and the arrow shines, piercing away the shadows around everything except Andore himself. Archer draws back the bow, and the weapon tears through the air with a thunderous blast. It tears out the back wall as easily as it tears through the wolf-thing's skull. The guns fall from its right eye, scattering out the hole in the back as the flesh starts to crawl together and try to...heal? Repair? Stitch itself back together. That's a good word. The other eye turns towards Archer, and bullets come screaming forth, hurtling towards the Servant at speeds far beyond normal guns.      Excalibur Galantine carves into the arm falling towards Seft and Kyra. The sword-arrow lights the rest of the monster ablaze in white energy, and its howls loud enough to shake the building as the white winds from outside sweep in. The monster's jaws snap outwards, its neck suddenly extending to try and bite Shirou with its massive head. Flesh crawls up from its legs to join its neck, which looks *very* odd and *terribly* disturbing.
Landon al Cid	Asche ricochets off the wolf-lord and goes at Andore, bringing down a lightning-fast jab as Soan's glorious spear comes down. Her fist connects with the metal mask as his spear tears through the hood, scraping across some scale or something.      Andore is unveiled.      It is hard to call him a man. It is hard to call him /anything/. His face is a misshapen thing, like a human face stretched over a snout. One eye is reptillian, the other is humanoid, both a deep silvery color. Blue scales cover his body in odd and random patterns, catching on the light as he's uncovered. His legs are backwards-bent, with large claws on the end of them but otherwise human-shaped feet. A tail of flesh with a nasty spike of scales at the end emerges from the small of his back, and huge wings, like kites of skin, stretch as Andore rears up to his full height - which is *much* taller than twelve feet. He gains four feet on the straightening.      "How irritating," Andore growls.      And then he swings.      His claw is *sharp*, but that's not the thing that's worrisome about it. What's worrisome about it is the sudden gust of wind that accompanies it. A whirling tornado just *carves* through the middle of the battlefield, smashing into Asche and Soan. The...*thing*...doesn't relent with just that, either. Andore stalks forward, his wing-beats pushing them backwards with every motion. It's like standing in front of a hurricane focused solely on a single point. Each step is like an earthquake, shaking the whole tower, though he surely is not that large or that heavy.      "I dislike," Andore labors, "That you have unveiled me. I dislike that a Dragoon stands before me. I dislike many things about this scenario."      His...lips? Snout?...curls upwards, revealing row upon row of sharp and wicked teeth. "But this is a setback. Harald's loss was expected. Planned. Do you think a man like that could achieve power on his own? Bumbling, self-righteous, arrogant fool. He wanted to be a legend. He wanted to be a king."      "So many want power. But so few are able to truly control it. Command it. Guide it." A snort from his nostrils hammers into Soan as he talks.      "Brief, flickering mortal lives. Pathetic as you are, small as you are, you wish to spend your final moments in a glorious burst, to leave your influence upon the world. What a pitiable life it must be."      Andore brings another fist around for Asche, the force of a freight train behind him. "I am not ready for you to die yet, children of the gods, outworlders. Mercy will stay my hand tonight. You should thank me for it."
Starbound Flotilla	"Hyral. Behind me now." Albert may have had some of his shielding torn away by the shockwave, but he has enough for this next bit. with a mighty leap, he lets the claw slam into him bodily, but by using his entire massive suit, he can parry the strike away from kyra! It sends him flying, slamming into the edge of the room and likely leaving a crater in the wall, dropping him to one knee. Looks like he's gonna need a quick heal to get him back in the fight!
Starbound Flotilla	Biteblade's jumped off Zwei, so now George is getting involved. After distracting the creature enough with his electro-grapples, he instead moves to something else now... The conflict with Asche and Andore?! "Yo! Hey Big and Tall Emporium!" He calls out. Is he talking about Asche or Andore? Both...? He calls out as he's being SMASHED off of the back of the creature, tumbling away in a trail of shattered holo-shields and dented armor. "Ghhhh... Fuck! Hey! Hold up, you two! You three!" Zwei is two people, after all. He winds up getting to his feet and skidding to a stop somewhere between them, and putting his hands up, as if trying to defuse the fight... With fast-talk? "We're in on this for Mr. G. Flotilla's got no beef with you, and you've got no beef with us. Zwei, you two trust me? You back off on this, I promise good stuff."
Kyra Hyral	Arrogance swells within Kyra as she experiences the power of magical devistation again. Though unlike the last time, her magic is not Wild. She is in full control and, instead of healing, laying down nothing but the harm. Holy was always one of those conditionally powerful spells-only really effective against certain classes of monsters. Normal wildlife were hurt, yes, but not /as/ hurt by holy magics and the reduction was enough that from a MP economy standpoint, it wasn't even efficient to cast. But now...!     Only dimly does Kyra wonder if she has enough to support both Saber AND continue to throw around Holy. She would simply have to find out tonight...!     Her triumph is interrupted by her own involuntary shrieking as the monster starts to claw towards her. Were it not for Albert's intervention, it most definitely would have struck her. It fortunately gives her enough time to barely get out of the way of a flying Albert as is. Swallowing, Kyra backs up and pulls the GLEAMING GRENADIER'S CURE-ALL off her back, setting it to mid-level recovery. This too drains MP from her but does so in a controlled, reliable way that meant Kyra definitely did not have to worry about Wild Magic incidents.     The weapon is turned to Albert and fired, conveying a grenade-launch-like blast of healing energy directly onto him. After firing, she lets the gun 'dangle', supported with one hand and the strap around her body, while the other lifts towards the ex-Wolf Lord. The same white shimmer follows, another Holy spell directed at Harald, MP driven from her body quickly. She had heard Saber's earlier warning and knew she'd be losing more any second now.
Emiya Shirou	Oh gods.     Shirou is still in the follow-through from launching his tremendous arrow. Body burning from the expenditure, muscles aching, he is TOTALLY not prepared for a retaliation of such uncanny speed and unnatural morphology. "You've got to be kidding!"     THere's just.. NO chance to dodge. He certainly can't parry that, and he doesn't have the TIME to project Rho Aias or Montauban.     CRUUUUUNCH!     The jaws close around him head-first and he finds himself being swung around wildly. Some teeth penetrate chunks in armor, others crumple other parts. None of the damage is immediately lethal but the boy's flailing ineffectually, half-engulfed and reduced to a ragdoll in the situation.     Pain wracks his body. He's being squeezed. He can't BREATHE. Teeth have punctured his thighs. And topping it all off, it SMELLS UNGODLY AWFUL in that maw.     Still, he has a few good options to fight back, and MAYBE free himself.     "You'll have to eat this first!!" Magic flares wildly from his outstretched gauntlet, forming into an... enormous scythe! It's decisively lethal, and also pretty huge and sturdy. It might force the jaws open... assuming the jaw pressure doesn't force the scythe blade through the upper jaws.     And the latter case will hurt a LOT.     The Lifehunt's bite is not kind to anything - living, dead, or neither.
Soan Sagittarius	There comes a time in most Dragoon's lives that he must strike at something, despite knowing fully well, even admist their fury, that they are hopelessly outmatched. Even with aid, this time may be now for Soan.      Dragoon Man lands, trails of light following his spear's swing as he unveils Andore. His body still arced down following the motion of the swing, he slowly lifts his eye to witness the unveiling of the creature. The bright flames that serves him for eyes widens as the horror is shown, a mismatch of flesh and creatures. He has no idea what is that thing, beyond a chaos mess. He brings his spear up to stab at it. Questions are for later.      What was intended to be an offensive blow is hastily turned into a desperate parry from the claw. They clash against the spectral steel of his Great Spear, sending the young Dragoon skidding on the crysaline floor as he weathers the onslaught. He cries out in defiant rage with each succession of pin-point hurricanes, with each parried far less and far less. Each claws sends sparks flying in all direction that dies within moments, shards of the greatspear splinters out. The wind blows him back, the Earthquake loosen his footing.      Claw marks slices at his armor, ripping out great deal of it's spectral steel out, the wind blowing out what was cut loose. In lieu of blood, the Dragoon bleeds energy, raw elemental substance.      Then, in one bright, sharp explosion, the Great Spear shatters. Dragoon Man's eyes thins in surprise, before he is thrown out, down on the ground. He is knocked around, flung by the wind and tossed out on his back, where Andore's steps fissures his back. The warrior screams. Dragoon man cries out in rage and pain.      "Urrrng..." He grunts out, his armor in shambles, showing out only the basic outline of his form beneath, looking much like cooling, raging lava trying to recondense into steel. It will not in a hurry. He pants, with some effort pushing himself off his back, holding himself on his knee with his two gauntlets, breathing heavily.      He looks up, fire still burning in his disfigured helmet.      The hiss becomes a crackle, his body shuddering in slow, rythmically fashion, loosening some metal off his armor. A weak, hurtful laugh boils up.      "Oh, you're 'not ready to kill us', are you?" Dragoon Man hisses out, lifting his shattered helmet to stare straight at Andore, eyes burning bright. "You would know about wanting power, would you not?" He voice grows sharper. "It is life. Not that you would know, Unraveler, for you have none of it to acknowledge, or understand. Tell me, do you sit in the simmering pieces of Chaos, scowling at the Light in rage as it defies you... or..."      A surge of light gathers at his mouth as he reels back, shouting out at the same time of breathing out a large stream of light. "ARE YOU RAGING AGAINST IT FOR YOU CANNOT BE ANYTHING LIKE IT CAN GIVE!?"
Sanary Rondel	A direct hit! Unfortunately for Sanary, that wasn't enough to take the creature down, and that seems to have only enraged it further. In retrospect, giving it a giant flaming arm to swing around probably wasn't the best idea compared to just facing its giant regular arm. She's not about to go down without a fight, though, and the healer scrambles away from the path of Harald's swing!      If she was wearing her other armor set, she'd probably have even evaded it completely. But with this set? The cleric's not quite as fast on her feet, and it's only through armor's physical resilience and strength against fire attacks that she's /not/ a smear on the floor now!      "Holy... Crap, that's... Okay!" She'll have time to fix her bones properly later. For now, Sanary hurries her ass over to get closer to Kyra, circulating raw magical energy between the both of them. Sanary needs healing, and Kyra needs buffing, so what better way than to get that green healing light swirling about between the both of them?      Considering the circumstances, she's putting in even more of her energy in at once than she would normally, opting more for speed and granting the White Mage a massive burst of energy rather than boosting her efficiently.
Lyria Mason	Lyria Mason is seeing things she thought she'd never see or hoped she would never see but that is somethin she can do little about she has to keep fighting and today her faith is also a weapon given they are starting right into the face of a force that wishes to undo reality. Support magic from her allie sis welcome such s Mirielle's whos proven again to be someone she's very happy to have along with them in a situation like this. The horrible thing gets Biteblade on it and her own feelings about the strange flesh eating plan actually improves a bit. SHe sets things on fire with her shots at the wolf's heads. She's forced to back flip away away and levels both of her weapoins trying to keep her eyes off the tainted weapons. She does not want to touch those thing and then Andore is unveild they are not a man, htey relaly cna't call the /thing a man. She stares at the monsterous thing, more Chaos Spawn is all she can think. Even as she lays down fire on the former wolf lord she now is thinking of a plan. "Remora! Payload 13!" The Drone remotes by heading ror hert and accessint it's stores just what is the thing carrying? What does Lyria have in mind? She's lucky she didn't get eaten by those heads.
Cirra Constantine	And then Andore is an even bigger freak then Harald!     oh my god can we have one disturbing thing at a time please?     Undisturbed for the moment, Cirra takes out a Law Card, held between two fingers and slams it into the ground, "The. Briar!" A magic circle spreads across the floor of the room, and from it thorny vines sprout out.     The vines spread out across the floor, avoiding Cirra's allies and trying to tangle around the feet of the Harald monster, and possibly Andore... though Gungnir is still in the air, landing in a patch could result in him getting tangled up too!
Mirielle Edelweiss	Andore not being a man? Well, THAT one's totally unexpected!!!     That's a lie. Him being a terrible monster is totally expected. Mirielle assigned over one hundred percent certainty to Andore being a creature of chaos and horribleness. She wasn't JUST certain of it, she wouldn't believe otherwise.     As things start to go only mildly south, she comes to a decision. Perhaps she CAN have her cake and eat it too. Perhaps she can pull just enough power to...     Mirielle channels, looking like she's casting a spell, but her eyes are shut tight. Others are attacked, while she merely gets nearly toppled off her feet by the powerful shocwave that was drawn and dispersed by many others. Sometimes, the back line IS the place to be! She scrambles to her feet, moving with purpose towards Dominic on the front while incanting, shoving both hands into her whoulder-sachel. Magic particles sworl around her and her general aura changes drastically, as she pulls at some great spell-work, pouring power... Into her messenger bag. As she approaches where Dominic last was, she slows, as she speaks in a hoarse, breathy tone, obviously suppressing... something.     "I didn't want to tell you, but I thought I found Excalibur. I did... research after the Forbidden wing. I 'found' this blade, though I am not skilled with swords. It would be a shame for the Holy Blade to go to waste. Take this, and go... engage in your special skill. I am sure with its power, you can help us all prevail." The calculator finishes, taking labored breaths now.     She cracks a single strangely glowing eye, adusting her position to near Dominic (look, navigating with your eyes closed is hard, even for someone with good spatial sense!) before drawing a black, wrapped hilt and pommel of some sort of leather and dark metal. A metallic sound begins ringing out unbidden from the contents of her bookbag. The hilt turns into a golden x crossguard, with flanges near the handle, and a brilliant ruby like an eyeball set into it. Beyond that is shimmering silver metal, otherworldly and brilliant. She draws and draws, before trying to jam it into Dominic's hands. "P-pull the rest out." She says quickly, incapable of dragging the whole darn very-longsword out of her bag with her armstrength or height. Stupid logistics!     "Weild this, 'Excalibur', and carve a path through our foes. Light the way with this 'Most Holy of Swords'."
Zwei	Half right. The parallels to the archetypical dragon's form are as obvious as they are perversely twisted. Whatever Andore is, he was once, or once tried to become, a dragon, or something very much like one. On some level he must have succeeded, because that level of power is certainly outside of the range Zwei has seen anything on Galianda exhibit thusfar, but it gets the distinct impression that it's well outside the reach of any normal dragon as well. The more pressing question would be if consorting with Chaos did this, how exactly does this entity have access to Job crystals, supposedly its antithetical enemy?     "Then we share no common thoughts." replies Asche. "I am pleasantly surprised to find that I will not be subjected to the tiresome ideals of one with no conception of this world's future beyond his borders." The Armiger pulls his arm back at the instant Andore swings, but the claws rip through his armour regardless, passing right by the interdiction field and scoring inch deep gouges in the compressed layers of Pauli nanostructure beneath, blasted open to triple their depth and width by the contours of raging wind that follow them, carrying shattered carbon in the slipstream.     The tornado slams against his angled front profile, built with aerodynamics and ballistic deflection in mind, the wind splitting over him, but hurling him backwards regardless. The momentum only swings backwards briefly however, as Asche's thrusters kick up into full gear,plumes of blue-white fire blossoming out behind him like his own set of wings as he leans into the gale, the whine of engines contesting the roar of the whirlwind. "Further, I am neither mortal, no do I have any wish to give anything to this world for glory." He continues, somehow still audible over the din.     Finally, as Andore swings again, Asche responds like a streak of black lightning, physical parameters further heightened and overclocked by the result of triple layers of buffing magic, the impact of the strike rattling through the undamaged arm's joints as he catches, and contests the blow with his open hand, only to clench down on his opponent's, his synthesized voice now tinged by fiery reverb. "Finally, we disagree in strategy. I fear you will handicap yourself with your mercy, because I have none to return."     The relevant wristguard splits open in less than the blink of an eye, the pre-charged multiweapon beneath it letting off point blank into Andore's shoulder with a hypervelocity lance of infinite-inertia light. In calculated succession, the matter manipulator core churns deep within Asche's Transience Drive, warping space to deploy Asche's gargantuan raiser augmented blade to his free hand, but he stops short of actually swinging it, not closing any space that opens up as George interrupts. The sword goes unactivated. ". . . the technicality does not impress me, but I have not known you to lie to me before." He finally admits, stepping back. /*Is this . . . ?*/ //It had better be.//
Starbound Flotilla	Sanary can deal with this. Pavo is needed on the front lines. With George and Albert all out of commission for a moment, she's rushing in, cutlass blazing with fire. Diving in, she and Seft can deal with the claw descending. By not being in the way! She grabs Seft's free hand and heaves her up, escaping with some heavy burning and scratching, but no cuts. "Owe ye life t'me now, lass, yarharharhar!" "Frustrated. Survive now, scam later."     They split in the air, coming down hard on either side. Pavo is a flurry of blades, Seft is a scratched-up mass of armor doing a rocket-slam down onto the wolf from above, resulting in a tremendous fountain of fire! Seft is a robot, she can take a little more heat before she overdoes it!
Archer	As the body of what was once Harold Wolf-Lord is pummeled, Archer clicks his tongue in annoyance and muted disgust as the creature's flesh begins to shift in an attempt to... well, 'heal' seemed to be the wrong word. More like it was shifting portions of it's body-mass from the uninjured parts of it's body to patch over the parts that were severely damaged.      As it fires the hailstorm of bullets at him - their speed fast enough to be lethal even to him - Archer leaps out of the way, several feet to the sides as he tries to recalculate a better strategy - and as a result, he lands close to where Audrey and the Saber Servant are fighting.     Then he catches sight of the creature born of the lance - a literal 'Lancer' it seemed - firing a multipart elemental attack that would be bad even in terms of area-of-effect alone.     They were not going to make much headway like this - so they needed to reinforce each-other. A sort of favor for a favor as the red blade wielded by the Servant-      He stopped. For the briefest of instances, Archer's mind froze up as he finally got a proper look at the red-clad Servant of the Sword.     It wasn't her. She never dressed like that - even now some part of him /balked/ at the transparent slip of fabric that was the Servant's excuse for a dress - and her eyes were a lighter shade of green... among other differences. But even still... the resemblance between Nero Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus, owner of the crimson blade and another historical King who was supposedly male, to Arturia Pendragon was undeniable.      Arturia had supposedly had some modicum of roman heritage to her legend... so were they distantly related?      Shaking it from his mind for the millisecond it took these thoughts to occur, Archer finishes his landing, raising his hand as he calls forth his strongest defense to try and even the odds - and give Audrey and Saber time to counter. "I am the bone of my sword."     Mauve light forms in the palm of his hand, blooming outward into seven petals -      "RHO AIUS!"      - and from there, they form the seven crystalized layers of the Trojan Hero Ajax's shield; something Nero may recognize depending on how deeply she studied Greek history.     Of course, whatever beauty the King of Rome might find in the display is likely offset as the attack of Gunguir shatters the the first layer of the shield - then two, then three, then four, then /five/. Then the sixth begins to splinter and break as well, Archer straining to keep the barrier maintained as he feels the backfire of the attack affect him as well, portions of the sleeve on his outstretched arm having holes torn in them and splits in his skin forming as his muscles are overtaxed with the effort. Through gritted teeth, he glances to Audrey and Saber, the Servant having developed something of a budding rapport with the former - "If you two have anything in mind... I suggest you make use of it quickly!"
Archer	Finally, the attack is repelled as the sixth layer shatters and cracks form in the surface of the seventh, the assault having required the full might of the Aius to diffuse. Archer himself takes in a few shaky breaths as swords become visible inside the wounds on his arm, keeping the injuries sealed and allowing him to retain use of his limb... painful as it was to do so.     Then he sees Shirou be clamped down on by Harold's undead form, and he spits out a curse - the boy really couldn't keep from trouble, could he?!     Even worse, he uses a blade that has no strength against an undead, tempting part of him with the idea to just let the boy be killed by his own foolhardy stupidity.      ... but of course, his Master's pledge to Dun Realtai made that inadvisable to do, lest he incur the wrath of Rin, Saber, Bedivere, Gawain and anyone else who had an incomprehensible bond with the young Emiya Shirou. And it seemed Sanary Rondel needed assistance as well.      His bow reforming in his hands, Archer gives a glance to the red Saber - and, perhaps humorously, he seems to give a mock-apologetic smirk, even though one eye is closed in pain. "Forgive me, but I'll be the one borrowing a possession from you this time." He'd read the history of the blade - he knew who she was. How she made claim to all she saw and made it priority to learn all skills she witnessed.     How ironic that, while she wasn't the Saber he knew, her method of learning was so very similar to him.      In his hand, the prana flowed and shifted, solidifying... until it took a form mirroring the one in the Saber's hands.     From there though... it became warped. The artistic aesthetic of the blade was noteworthy... but it sadly was not the form Archer required, and he put his admiration for the blade's qualities aside as as the weapon was twisted and altered from a sword into an arrow.      He takes aim. He has to wait to fire it, though - his prana is still recovering, though he hopes Sanary can provide the energy to expedite the process.     If not... well, hopefully the boy could survive until then.
Audrey Stormfist	It doesn't talk. Of course it doesn't talk.     It's a weapon-- a Divine? Something like it, at least. A fake, possibly. There's one way to find out for sure the extent of the spear and its phantasmal wielder, and many would likely call it a very bad idea. Fortunately Audrey makes those kinds of decisions on a daily basis.     And what more, Archer buys her time to try. The girl turns her head to look at the man, offering a brief thank in the form of a nod.     The storm of elements and metal crashes into the seven petals of the shield, and Gungnir starts ripping the shild to shreds; in the pink and red light does the Heritor suddenly surge forward, speed enhanced by Souji's Haste spell, reaching for Gungnir, still afloat, still fighting of its own accord even with the phantasmal dragoon having pulled back. She does have an idea, as Archer requests.     "Let us see what you are, divine spear!"     Many things could go wrong. For one, touching an artifact like this might be a terrible idea without protection. For two, the spear may simply be able to reject her grasp. For two point five it could also stab her. For three, it could be a fake, or it could be completely incompatible with a Heritor's ways.     But if you're going to try something stupid, go the whole mile. And so does Audrey attempt to pierce through the spear's will, to gleam from it a single strike that belonged to its most prominent owner.     Secondary benefit: Nero won't have to deal with the spear anymore, just the phantasmal dragoon. Maybe. Probably. Fingers crossed?
Starbound Flotilla	Biteblade has consumed fresh meat.     Her eyes and her armor gush with a brilliant green fire, and she lets out an unholy, hissing scream. The massive fist that comes down on her is as strong as the one that one-hit KO'd Albert... Which means it's a hell of a show when she drops one dagger and STOPS it with her free hand! Armor shatters off of her in waves, and the ground under her craters... But she doesn't budge. "MMMmmhmhmhm... Tassste good... Floran hunt, kill, EAT big prey wolf!!" With a swiping motion, she forces the fist to one side, and darts in. Her power dagger draws from her psionic reserves thanks to Seft's engineering, glowing brightly and cutting far deeper than any dagger should. With a scream, she attempts to rush along the arm in a single leap and SLICE IT OFF at the shoulder!
Nero	Saber's eyes stare into the Lance(er)'s featureless face, a frown of determination etched upon her own. She grit her teeth, putting all of her strength into the clash. The sound of Audrey's voice earned her a brief sidelong glance and a smirk. "Lady Stormfist. Have no fear! For I am the stronges-wha?" Before she could finish that sentence, the phantom warrior used Gungnir as a foothold, and leapt off.      "Kh! How devious! Only a tactic that a being such as this could employ!" The blonde Servant ground out, forced to remain in a deadlock with the disembodied lance, leaving her, and Audrey, entirely open to counterattack.      And it came.      A fierce breath attack of every discernible element! Saber's eyes briefly widened before things started to move in slow motion. Here she was, locked in a clash against a ghostly spear. The wielder, an extension of the weapon itself, was free to move as it pleased, and there was a storm of elements coming head on for her....      What action should be taken here?      She could disengage, but she could foresee two scenarios. A) Gungnir chases after her and impales her while she retreats. B) She leaves Audrey behind to be washed away by the blast. Not entirely her concern, technically. But she was an ally in a large scale battle. She couldn't leave her. C) She could disengage and parry the oncoming blows while veering out of the way, but that would still result in B)!      Quickly running out of time to think, Saber found herself frowning in defiance as the blast was nearly on top of the two of them. She disengaged, prepared to knock Audrey out of the way, but then...      There was a flash of purple and a radiant flower bloomed in front of her eyes.      Rho Aias.      The Ultimate Defense.      The Seven Layered Shield.      Watching in awe for a second, Saber bore witness as the shield formed, protecting them from the all elemental blast that had threatened to engulf them. However, that awe was soon replaced by Determination. Landing roughly to the ground, the Servant gripped Aestus Estus and took a stance. "I will commend you, Gungnir. You have proven to be a worthy opponent!" Trails of red Prana began to form and swirl around Saber. She raised her blade.      "An opponent worthy of this blow of mine!" There was a pulse, and Kyra would feel a large chunk of her MP get eaten. The storm of Prana flashed, becoming flame and rose petals. In that moment, she glanced aside at Archer, who she assumed formed the barrier. Considering that they were in a life or death battle, she hadn't the time to object to his tracing of her valued sword. Instead, she just returned the smirk with one of her own.      "Let it not be said that I am without generosity. I will allow to you use my blade, even if it is far above your station."      And then she turned her attention back ahead, dashing straight forward, and then upwards into the air to meet the spear again. Or at least, that was the plan, but it seemed like Audrey had her own idea. Well! She can work with that. She changed focus, instead going for the phantom Lancer. "Now!" Aestus Estus held below, she swung upwards, a trail of flame and rose petals following. But she did not stop there.      Spinning the sword, she followed it up with an overhead slash against the entity, sailing back down to the ground with a stillness that belied the chaos surrounding her. "Laus Saint Claudius!" With the name of the blow spoken, there was a flash, followed by an immediate explosion. A storm of crimson red and orange, sworling together to form a furious blossom meant only for destruction.
Starbound Flotilla	Moonfin hogs the entire Flotilla's share of Souji's Haste-2. This is because he is a samurai, and the one best fit to benefit from it. While the other Starbounders go for single heavy strikes, Moonfin takes a calm breath, readying his katana. "Fifth Sea Hylotl Style: Many Waves From One Storm." And he darts in, a flash-stepping strike meant to cripple an anatomy that shouldn't exist in a single hit-and-run strike... Then bouncing back and zipping by again, and again, and again. His power-armor-enhanced movements, plus Haste-2, plus his own natural samurai speed, means that Moonfin should manage a dozen strikes before slowing enough for a counterattack.
Dominic Masoch	The axe-based retaliation actually catches Dominic square in the chest, opening a massive wound that spills blood down his front and to the ground below him. He lets out a cry of pain as he jumps back, landing on his injured leg and letting out another hiss of pain. It was a good hit, one that cleaved him open quite handily. He dips a hand into the blood on his front and sheaths his sword as Mirielle comes to him.     "I see. An Excalibur, but not. It will have to do, for now. I will fight onward for the sake of victory with it," He reaches out to grip the sword as she holds it out for him. Almost as soon as it enters into his grasp, he goes stone silent and abruptly stands straight up, regardless of all other injuries on his body.     It is not Excalibur. In fact, something else is in his hand. Even in a tiered down form, the blade in Dominic's hand is the pinnacle of Anti-Chaos weaponry. It is also, on his world, a powerful god. And as soon as the blade is entirely 'being wielded' by the totally normal Fencer, something seems to happen. He forgets his wounds and injuries, he lifts his head, and his blue eyes light up. The yellow bolts that run through his irises light up as well.     Magic Particles surge through his body, the blade sensing what he is, TRULY is, despite how hard he hides it. It has found a wielder which might be able to sustain its power for a fight. And that person is, at this moment, Dominic. He stands up a bit more fully as buffs from the weapon begin to stack on him in rapid order. Equip: Sword of Questionable Origin Status: Auto-Faith Status: Auto-Bravery Status: Auto-Haste Status: Auto-Protect Status: Auto-Shell Status: Auto-Blink Status: Auto-Regen     Dominic lifts his head and says in a resonant voice, "All Chaos must be purged from this world. All its Servants must be cut down." He grips the blade. By its nature, it advises him of several options and avenues to attack through. Of course, it presses one most heavily. An attack that uses all of his current buffs to absolutely obliterate what would stand between the wielder and destroying chaos.     Dominic lifts the sword up and shifts his stance. The Sword Saint relaxes his body and exhales slowly, trying to center his remaining MP. The ability he is preparing to use is facilitated and crutched solely on the level of the sword in his hand. Some day, he could perhaps learn such a thing. Today is not that day. Luckily, the sword already knows the move it wants him to use.     "Martial God Supreme Slash... the move that carves a path through any foe..." He says distantly, a bit disconnected.     And then he vanishes.
Dominic Masoch	He reappears above the form of Harald, coming downward in a cleaving strike. It's an air-splitting maneuver that cracks like thunder, landing with such a force that the ground under him quakes and cracks. With a twist of his body, he aims a horizontal strike that sends out a shockwave of force in its wake that blows back the air in front of Dominic. This maneuver is followed by a straight thrust directly towards Harald's chest.     But then, as the strike connects, he vanishes as if he had never been there. Because he's abruptly somewhere else.     He comes in front Andore's side like a bullet, trying to aim a powerful slash across his side with the massive sword in his hands. As he skids to a stop, he charges in again towards the massive monstrosity, zipping by him with a quick pair of slashes that are purely fired by instinct. But if someone tries to watch where he wound up, he's not there any more.     He has reappeared near Harald. With the sword in his hand, he leaps upward in a rising crescent slash that trails both a shockwave of force and a trail of fire behind it. At the apex of his upward slash, Dominic rotates in the air and comes downward in another falling overhead slash onto the wolf monstrosity that was once Harald.     But he doesn't ever touch the ground. Instead, he lands on Harald and his boots kick off, sending him towards Andore once again in another target switch as the attack he's launching goes wild, sending him bouncing between foes like a pinball. As he zooms past Andore, he rotates twice in the air, making a pair of spinning slashes with the blade.     He lands on the floor again, skidding to a stop before bracing himself. With a cry of fury, he slices the air twice, sending a massive blast wave with as much cutting force as any sword strike. One flies towards Andore and the other carves a path through the floor towards Haral.     And then he takes off again, a running charge. One last slash is spared for Andore in passing, more a mark that Dominic will not forget he exists. But the finale of the entire attack sees him coming in at Harald like a shot from a cannon. A HUGE, bisecting strike aimed right for the midsection to try to carve straight through the wolfman with the final strike of his combo.     15 strikes, all of which took place in a span of about 5 seconds total.     As Dominic skids to a stop on the ground, he says simply, "Omnislash..."     And then... the sword in his hand shatters. It breaks apart and vanishes, leaving nothing behind as the Magical Particles that comprised it vanish into the air.     Dominic falls to his knees... and then onto his face... from exhaustion. [New Technique Acquired: Omnislash] [Sword Saint is not an appropriate level to use this move.] [Move will unlock later]
Staren	A /tornado/ goes past. Fortunately, Staren happens to not be in its path. Lucky. Staren fires, then stares as his bullets hit the wolf instead of the 'dragoon'. Crazy chaos beast. At least he knows they work...     Thing is, the beast is too /big/. And it's regenerating. Pumping damage into one spot... could it be enough? No, he needs a way to damage more surface area... and a way to expose that area first.     Good thing he makes a point of wearing a walking armory. At least if it /works/, allies with area spells will be able to take advantage of it too..     Staren tries to keep his distance from the wolf. He holds out his arms. The missile racks on his shoulders raise into firing position. The ports on the forearms fire five of the armor-piercing micromissiles, that try to embed themselves in the beast in a tight group before exploding. Followed by a plasma minimissile that detonates into a large fireball over the area, air superheating into plasma and burning flesh.
Landon al Cid	Audrey grabs the legendary Dragoon Spear, the Heaven-Piercing Divinity itself as Archer buys her time. The weapon is marvelously-crafted. It's made of something Audrey cannot identify on touch, some metal beyond metal, something that perhaps no longer exists in this world. The imprint in it is incredible. The weapon itself is merely part of the whole - the whole is the projection, the spirit of the spear, forged as much of its wielders as of the metal inside it. Her Heritor powers kick in backwards, and she learns Gungnir's strike - an elemental stab with all seven of the world's core elements: Lightning, Fire, Ice, Earth, Water, Metal, and Wind. Its name:          GOD BLOW      Meanwhile, the Lance Soul of Gungnir prepares to defend itself. It doesn't appear surprised by Rho Aias - but then, it doesn't have a FACE, so who knows how it feels? Saber is fast, faster than any human has any right to be, and the Lance Soul keeps up with her, until she unleashes her hidden power - Laus Saint Claudius! The explosion of crimson radiance comes down on the Lance Soul, smashing into it furiously. It throws up its hands, attempting to defend. It's forced to one knee as its spiritual form shudders and wavers, quite unlike a Servant.      Its foot snaps outwards for Saber's stomach. It tumbles downwards, part of it cleaving off in fire as it rolls out of the way. The Lance Soul gets to its feet, and, in a show of simple-mindedness, goes driving in for Saber with bare hands, ready to punch the crap out of her. Its arms are armored with spikes, so perhaps that'll be effective?
Landon al Cid	Shirou's scythe comes tearing out the top of the wolf-freak's mouth from sheer jaw pressure, as Kyra's holy bombardment erups across the snout. It's enough to tear the skin free and give Shirou a clear way out before the flesh from around its broken head oozes over the wound. It's buying time, not healing itself - every hit makes it a little bit smaller.      Cirra's Briar explodes outwards, a crystalline vine-patch that covers the field. The wolf-monster tears its feet away from the thing, ripping pieces off itself. Flesh falls away in droves as it tries to escape the Judge magic and fails, because there really isn't anywhere for it to /go/. It's surrounded! The Briar nearly catches Andore, but he's busy in the middle of a fight, and simply uses the momentum of one of Asche's blows to avoid it.      Lyria's drone goes soaring upwards, mercifully ignored in all the madness. It's positioned to deliver its payload with brutal efficiency.      Staren dumps a payload into the Wolf-Monster before the drone deploys. The missiles embed themselves in Harald, blasting huge chunks of flesh off the wolf-thing and sending them scattering around. The Hylotl Style: Many Waves From One Storm is also incredibly effective, slicing along with Staren's explosives easily. It carves a huge chunk of flesh off the wolf, actually flat-out removing one of the shoulder-torsos along with Biteblade's strike. The massive arm falls to the ground with a meaty WHUD. Pavo and Seft, meanwhile, hammer at the exposed areas, filling the already-damaged thing with explosions and slashes. The blender works very well, keeping the wolf well-and-truly staggered on its own feet.      And then Dominic happens. Or, well, Dominic and Mirielle happen. The sword in Dominic's hands knows what to do. It shines, brilliantly, resonant and forceful. It carves through Harald, shredding and slashing and burning away huge swathes of its body as he bats it around.
Landon al Cid	Andore trades blows with Asche efficiently and effectively. As Asche brings the overclocked hand around Andore's arm, the thing gives a throaty chuckle. Its laugh is the rumbling of a volcano. "I found Harald Wolf-Lord tiresome. I like him more this way. He no longer talks back."      Those muscles are like iron, but Asche is starting to make progress squeezing down. When the multiweapon deploys, there's a catastrophic noise, and Andore's arm separates - and flat-out *evaporates* in an explosion of...magical particles. But there's no hand underneath it, no Morpher inside it. Whatever Andore is, he *is* what he appears to be. He recoils from the blow, hard, his twisted face twisting further in anger. He begins to puff up his lungs-      -and George leaps in between the conflict. Andore pauses, casting reptillian eye on George and the other eye on Asche. He steps back a moment, directly into Soan's stream of Light. The stream washes over him, burning at his flesh, and he roars, a thunderous roar that brings icicles down and whips the white wind outside into a flurry. Snow pours in like a blizzard fresh-called as Andore roars, turning away from George and Asche. He storms over to the Dragoon and, with his one meaty hand, brings a fist down for Soan's stomach.      "Be silent, Dragoon," he growls from his warped face, "You annoy me."      He doesn't get a chance to either engage with George or finish off Soan. The resonant burst of power from Dominic is incredibly distracting. Andore jerks his head upwards at the appearance of the sword, eyes fixated in on it. When Dominic vanishes, Andore follows the motion, stepping just out of reach before the sword can carve through him. Even the merest touch is enough to bring him sizzling, the merest glance enough to leave him hissing in pain. When the pieces of Harald Wolf-Lord come falling inwards, Andore Jumps, dodging over them, and right into Dominic's path. The blade cleaves into Andore, carving brilliant gashes of light out of his side. The shockwave, however, breaks apart as Andore beats his wings furiously, dispersing the sword force with raw wind force. He lands somewhere off to the side.      Andore rolls his reptillian neck and smashes his foot into the ground. Magic surges around him, raw and powerful, drawn right out of the air. A new arm explodes out of his shoulder, messily, as if it was building new flesh from the magic. He twists it for a moment, obviously irritated that his /side/ hasn't grown back, as well as the burns on his face from Soan's blast. He seems to be well aware of *why*, though. The monster gives a long look at George and Asche.      "Speak, then," he tells them, "You have piqued my curiousity."
Landon al Cid	The shattered hunks of the Wolf-Lord stand, bravely. It lets out a final, defiant roar, as if it REFUSES to die solely on PRINCIPLE. This will surely be its final round. PRIMARY ROUND TIME?
Souji Murasame	Souji continues to stand amidst the chaos, the titanic forces at work managing to pass him as he stands in precise positions, stepping and leaping lightly from point to point as if predicting exactly where the waves of overwhelming power and deadly force would wash out. Audrey puts her hand on Gungnir, and he nods slightly, an approving tilt to his gaze. She will be able to make good use of it. Moonfin crashes forward, ripping through the enemy... But he narrows his eyes at the enigmatic conversation between George... But does not intervene. He remains in the eye of the storm, untouchable... Until Mirielle produces that blade. Almost unwillingly, Souji's gaze sweeps towards it, the sight of Dominic drawing out the blade reflected in those Moogle Glasses he wears. "What..." He gasps, visibly taken aback amidst the carnage as the swordsman wields the blade to shatter it in the performance of an incredible blade skill. He steps back, retreating to the side of the hall to get out of the way. Something about these events seems to be... disturbing to the corporate heir.
Staren	Staren can't keep up with everything going on. He's just trying not to blast Shirou, and then suddenly Moonfin and Dominic are all over the place cutting things up.     And together they actually manage it. They actually manage what he wanted -- cutting the wolfbomination to pieces. Now the area weapons can finish it!     Staren's own contribution to this is /more plasma missiles/. One at a time, they launch from his shoulder racks and superheat the air around the wolfchunks with enough energy to rip electrons off of nuclei. As air starts to cool and flow, another goes off. And another... until there is nothing but charcoal left, or Staren runs out of missiles. He has five.
Starbound Flotilla	George thinks, Heh. Still got the touch. There's a grin, and a gleam in his eyes, hidden under that helmet. The mask retracts, folding dramatically into the torso of his suit. He gives a wink to Souji, and a knowing smile. Then he turns to Asche, tilting his head a bit, a wordless invitation to go fight Harald if Zwei wants to, and a nonverbal assurance: Trust me, I got this. "Listen, Patches, this looks bad, but it's not. We're feeling it out. Figuring things out on our own, in our own lil' free-spirited way, but we're coming around. Now, you, and me, and Zwei, and everyone else all have their own agendas, and right now they're all messed up and different, all super chaotic, but Mr. G has an intersection of some of 'em, and we're gonna help him out before the end of things. And a whole lot of people can all agree on that. But I can't say more in bad company, know what I'm saying?" George is pretending to know a lot more than he actually does. But it's done with his historical expertise as a revolutionary, a traitor, and similar agents of chaos. "C'mon guy, you can trust me here."
Mirielle Edelweiss	As the sword that Dominic is granted by Mirielle shatters into bits of magic particles, Mirielle gives a sharp exhale, letting her eyes flutter open and heaving a large sigh of relief. She doesn't see the proceedings, and more hears them, and doesn't catch the reactions - especially of Souji. She instead moves to Soan's side, halfheartedly casting a quick Cure spell. "Come now, don't bleed out now." She breathes, before moving to Dominic. "Are you okay? Come now, you should be..." She sighs, trying to drag him away. "Come, if you are going to take a nap, we must away."     She grunts, trying to lift Dominic. "... You're heavy."
Sanary Rondel	It's just Sanary's luck to have to work with Archer of all people. Not just working with him, but even actively assisting him. It's definitely going to leave a sour taste in her mouth, but... Well. Emiya hasn't done her wrong, and Archer /is/ going to help him, so. She reaches for the sack at her hip, fishing out a thermos hastily and just guzzling down the ether inside. It's not the strongest, but the sheer quantity of it gives the cleric more energy than she'll need to do what she has in mind.      Once Archer's in range, the healer uses the staff in her hand to give herself some extra leverage before starting to channel her energy once again. The green light cloud 'linking' her to Kyra begins expanding, flowing towards Archer to give him much of that same boost while another cloud of light zips towards George and Albert to try and keep them stable. Rapid wound regneration, mana restoration, and pain relief all in one convenient green package!      "There. Now... Alright. Let's finish this here!" And with that confident utterance, the healer glances back and forth rapidly to get a better idea of where everyone is before that cloud of light keeps growing bigger and bigger, eventually bursting outward with tendrils of light. The students, the teachers, the Servants, the Masters, the intergalactic explorers, and even the technological warriors; all of the axe cleric's allies would get some of that recuperating energy in the hopes of giving them enough energy to end the fight!      Probably not ammunition, though. She's not /that/ good. Yet.
Lyria Mason	Remora finishes it's attack with brutal efficiency and it's been ignored it now starts to drop from it's massive leap towards the former wolf lord. Lyria beholds Dominic's ever progressing skill with the blade, as he unleashes the fury of his job upon the Enemy. She thinks Machinists do not have the history in myth that many of the other jobs do. It's new, its young comparatively and it needs to make it's own way. It does not have a legacy yet it's up to machinists to build their own much like the machines they employ and make. "REMORA NOW!" Remora springs towards Lyria as chaos rains, the back of the creature opens and a heavy weapons case deploys, Lyria dives behind her creation and holsters her pistols, why is she doing that? She's recovering something from the case. She snaps it open and pulls out a mask those who know the sports of northern parts of various iterations it's a mask a hockey mask and she's pulls is on over her face after she pushes back her goggles. She's got a reason for this the thing she pulls out next. Even as things just get more and more insane here. Fight Geomancy Tools |> Chainsaw Item With the Chainsaw in hand the terrible weapon roars to life it's chain blade with razor edged teeth are hungry for something to rip into. Lyria now breaks into a run for the remains of the Wolf Lord. The machine roar audible over the din of the battle here as Lyria races towards her target she leaps, and while not a Dragoon? She's very agile and is in the air coming down with the chainsaw hungry to tear into the corrupted thing's flesh as hard and as deep as she can on the way down she'll pull way and then race against swinging the thing again an again just trying to do as much damage as she can. She has friends who are bad off like Dominic and Soan. Hopefully this will buy brief breather for them and those like Mirielle who are trying to help them. She wants to deal with the other chaos spawn but one thing at a time here, she trusts in the others here.
Audrey Stormfist	That-- is headache inducing.     It seems for the time being, the Heritor has tamed Gungnir. The weapon pulses in her hand with power she can't fully grasp. So that's what a Divine feels like. Is this what Excalibur would feel like, too?     She idly glances towards Dominic, perhaps a bit jealous. Her gaze is a mix of 'damn you' and 'well, this spear is bigger than your sword'.     She has no need for this, though. It paints a target on her head. Audrey takes a step back, shaking her head and suddenly facing Dragoon Man. His spear shattered, he could really use this. And that aside, she does not want to be the one receiving the owner's wrath when he comes to reclaim his legendary spear.     "DRAGOON MAN! CATCH!"     She may not be a Ninja but you'd better believe she just tossed Gungnir to Soan. Err Dragoon Man. Who is not Soan at all, obviously.     The Heritor's eyes return to the battle at hand-- Kyra's Servant is still facing the phantasmal dragoon. Does she feel like interfering? She got what she wanted. There's no point tipping her hand.     Instead, she runs to Dominic and Mirielle, to check on the man. She is KIND OF concealing the fact touching Gungnir may or may not have squeezed her brain real tight. She'll have time to act dizzy and hurt later. "Of all the times to do something reckless. Why did the blade break?"
Dominic Masoch	Dominic proves to be as difficult to move as one would expect to be for someone of Mirielle's nerd-like physique. Not impossible, but it takes a substantial amount of energy. Audrey could likely help get Dominic back on his feet.     He seems groggy and somewhat out of touch himself. Then again, wielding a Blade of Questionable Origin will do that to a guy, "Muh... I'm alright. Not napping, might nap later." He comments, slowly opening his eyes and starting to try to stand up to take pressure off Mirielle.     "That was... not Excalibur," He helpfully informs her.
Archer	Taking a running leap, Archer crosses the battlefield again, landing in front of Sanary as he asks she provide him with the prana needed to expedite the charging of his attack - and even the bowman finds himself impressed by the degree she is able to heal his injuries, his arm mending to the point that the swords keeping the wounds closed can be retracted.     If he didn't know any better, he would have assumed he was getting prana from a prana battery of Illya or Sakura's level.     Taking a firing stance as he draws what was once the finely-crafted ornamental blade back against his bow, Archer trains his gaze on . 5t "/I am the bone of my sword./"      The air ignites as the warped weapon's length becomes wreathed in crimson flame. Embers drift from the tip as if it were a burning torch, the heat and fire building until the very surface of the twisted blade seems to be alight.     Archer narrows his gaze on the dying behemoth that was once Harold Wolf-Lord and his last cadre of irregulars as it is sliced apart, burnt and hacked into flickers of pity visible behind the steel of his eyes as he mutters a final parting almost to himself; "Find peace. Your burden ends here."     The weapon breaks - fire leaks from it's contours and flows around it, the heat intense enough to start lightly scorching the ground around Archer's feet, the air nearly unbreathable as the arrow burns like a barely-contained wildfire-      "AESTUS ESTUS!"     - and shoots forward like a comet, transforming into a flame-wreathed bullet that tears for the monstrous form's center-mass.     It should burn away enough of it for Emiya Shirou to pull back to safety... before, after immolating it's path through body-mass and twisted flesh to lodge itself deep into the creature's form, it explodes in a detonation akin to a miniature sun forming, a bright sphere of light contracting and expanding outwards before abruptly burning out, like the detonation of a firework - or an incendiary explosive, casting embers and wisps of stream-like fire across the detonation area.      A reflection of the abilities of it's original wielder - an explosion that is as much a theatrical crescendo of stage-worthy pyrotechnics as it is a destructive and deadly burst of flame.     A bit flashy for the Servant of the Bow's tastes... but certainly an effective weapon nonetheless.
Emiya Shirou	The jaws come unhinged rather LITERALLY - disintegrating in a wave of holy magic and FIRE born of meteoric iron - and Shirou topples to the ground, abandoning his impromptu scythe. Simply projecting that one takes an odd toll on him, every cell in his body trembling with weakness and his lifeforce flickering from the Lifehunt's backlash. That's not a weapon meant for anyone to wield. So he's coughing out blood when he hits the ground... but he lands on all fours, and manages to get enough traction to spring backwards with a mighty clink-clank of stained armor.     just in time to see the Sword Saint's mighty performance alongside Moonfin's. And Red Saber's. There's so much amazing sword dancing happening that the boy's left momentarily awed. That's... probably for the better though.     He needed about ten seconds to catch his breath and properly stand. "May THAT never happena gain. No more getting almost swallowed!"     The creature is finally battered down, on it last lags.. but still defiant.     Only now does he really have a good chance to see its nature. How TORMENTED it likely is. How SAD this fate is. He cannot really see a monster or an abomination out of this. Only a bunch of warriors who... "You guys met with an awful fate."     ... who wanted to protect their nation, no matter what it took. No matter how deluded they were, no matter how extreme they were, they were fighting for what they felt was a righteous cause.     Does every soldier still loyal to Harald deserve to share in his miserable fate, born of a momentary lapse of judgement?     Well, it's too late to help any of them now. There's only one thing he can do for a monster like this!     ... put them out of their misery.     The young man raises a hand for the heavens... "It's over now!" Raw prana thunders from his grasp. He hasn't refined this projection terribly much and his emotions are wild with anger, but still his mind and soul hyper-accelerates into the seven steps of tracing.     And a weapon takes form in his hands, filling out from a simply carved, extraordinarily long haft in both directions. One side congeals as the grip's end... easily as tall as Shirou is. But the business end is a mighty scythe blade quite different from the other.     It is plain. Unspeakably plain. All business, and not ostentatious at all. A simple tool for the humblest and most universal of jobs.     Reaping souls.     With expert skill Shirou whirls Thanatos, The Moments of Life Fall Like Scattered Grains, scythe of the Grim Reaper, into a blur, incredible momentum building. The boy shifts his weight slightly, then...     WHOOOOOSH! Like a gust of wind, he's off to deliver a dashing slash, cleaving through as much of the pitiful creature that was once a warrior and his followers as he can!     Thanatos kills gently, washing away the agonies and anxieties of life with soothing release and serenity.
Nero	"Kuh-!" Saber coughed as that kick connected with her stomach, sending her flying back and rolling before she righted herself. She leapt to her feet, skidding back a ways before coming to a stop. But she didn't stop there. "Tch. While I find this to be utterly abhorrent, I must comment it's tenacity."      She wiped off a bit of dirt from her cheek, smirking after. Her outfit had been dirtied in places from the fall and the roll as well. "Truly a crime." The Servant muttered, clenching Aestus Estus in her grasp. "A crime I shall have this phantom pay for in kind!"      And then with Prana gathered at the feet, Saber burst forward to meet the soul of the lance. A quick swing to the side was blocked by a piked gauntlet. She leaned her head aside to narrowly avoid a counter punch, spike grazing her cheek and drawing blood. She ducked under that arm and spun, swinging in the same motion to strike the phantom's other side. It raised a leg, blocking with a shin guard before grabbing Saber by the arm and throwing her over it's shoulder. Saber twisted in mid air, landing safely before being set upon by a flurry of punches.      Gritting her teeth, she blocked and parried each strike, spikes tearing into her at multiple angles. But she waited for an opening and continued to defend.      Soon, that moment came.      As if recongnizing it in an adrenaline fueled moment of battle instinct, Saber's body moved. A spiked fist was thrown straight for her face. She lowered her sword, leaning aside just slightly enough to avoid have her head knocked off. And then in an instant, she drove forward, attempting to drag the sword across the phantom, slashing into it as she passed.      "......"      Silence as she held her post striking stance, awaiting the result.      The explosion from Archer's arrow tousles her hair.      She smiles in pride.
Soan Sagittarius	Soan watches the effects his Breath has on the abomination. He witness with satisfaction the destruction Dominic, all of the others unleashes on Andore. The world starts to spin, his upper body slumping back foward, barely keeping him upright with his bare knuckles, his eye lights dimming. He's got to hold on, keep awake, if he don't... if he don't he might never see anybody again. He might not see them again. He...      His blearily stares up at the meaty fist of Andore looming over him. It hits him after he realizes it was coming down, impacting against his stomach. The crystaline floor below him cracks, fissures as most of his front armor is blown away by the impact. He wheezes out, struggling to take in air, an arm outstreched out, struggling. His lights dims. Darkness takes over his vision, blurring as he sees his hand flailing above him.      Then he feel warmth. A tingling sensation courses over him. In the brief moment of Dark, he could see forms. Things, people he don't recognise, right on the door between the concious, and the unconcious. It's not the first time he's see them.      The Cure spell jolts him back awake, sitting back up a little too fast(ignoring the terrible pain in his chest), he gives Mirielle a look. "Thanks you." He lets out, air squeezing out of his mouth. Then his name is shouted. He looks up.      His hand snaps up to snatch Gungnir in the air. It is an heavy weapon, heavier than any spear. An heaviness that proclaims it's rejection of him. He is not it's wielder, it's heritor. That's fine, Soan thinks, projecting his thoughts to it. I'm sending you back to the one that weilded you. No need to thanks me, Gungnir. Hope you will find your way back to the Light.      "Hey, Andore." Dragoon Man lets out, his voice shaky with rage and pain, using the spear to push himself up. "You wanted me to shut up. I'll let this rudeness pass, this time and instead help you a moment. You left your weapon here."      Dragoon Man straightens, reeling back the spear in a burst of adrenaline, the entire weapon lightning up with the same bright, fiery Light as before. "YOU SHOULDN'T LEAVE THESES THINGS LYING AROUND, SOMEBODY MIGHT RUN AWAY WITH IT!"      With his whole body exploding with pain, he fling the massive, burning bright spear at Andore. It might not be effective, he's tired.      But a point had to be made.
Starbound Flotilla	Albert's on his feet. A heavy dose from Kyra gets him fighting-capable and a boost from Sanary tops him off. Now it's back in to go defend the healers. His armor's been ripped up badly, but he's still mostly got it! His hammer is up in both hands, in a firm defensive stance, meant to get between any attack and the party's healers, now that Sanary is linking up more directly with Kyra! "Good, Hyral. I will live, and so will you. Continue. We need to finish this. Focus on the damage output."
Starbound Flotilla	Moonfin, Biteblade, Pavo, and Seft are now a brutal storm, a whirlwind of expertly timed tandem strikes. Moonfin darts under and at the sides, Seft and Biteblade alternate between brutally rapid strikes and heavy singular blows meant to wear down defenses ruthlessly and then tear them open. They're absolutely unrelenting. The wolf has yet to strike back at them in this stage of the battle, and they don't plan on letting it.     With a heavy leaping strike, Seft swings her battle-axe at the wound that Archer has freshly inflicted, Biteblade gets uncomfortably close to Lyria and her chainsaw (IRONY!) to rip through more sheer bulk of flesh with swinging rapid daggers and dismembering intent. Moonfin is the one who follows up with Shirou, or rather, prefaces him using Souji's HASTE-2. With a swift, tranquil strike that uses the last of his boosted speed, he rushes in to strike at Harald's form, ideally cutting a gash deep enough and well-placed enough that it will leave a major opening for Thanatos to dig in especially well. He can't match its effect, probably, but he can multiply it. Elsewhere... Pavo is alternating between letting her Matter Manipulator automatically pick up potentially valuable materials dropped from a slowly-dismembered chaos-spawn, between hit-and-run leaping that she's still capable of, despite some heavy wounding.
Cirra Constantine	With Harald intwined in her crystaline vines, Cirra stands back up and snaps the Judge Blade closed again, and dismisses it. Returning it to oft unseen Law Card form. "Harald Wolflord!" she calls out as she starts expending MP, pumping it directly into the law card in her hand.     "I, Cirra Cosntantine, Judge of Rahum present you the evidence of your Judgement!"     "Crimes of Assault, murder, inflicting pain and suffering apon the innocent people of both Shivan and Ramuh!" black smoke starts to leak out of Cirra's armor, as any of the Galanidian students of magic, or others perticularly sensative to such things can sense, her MP/mana levels just /spiked/ through the roof, burning her own blood away to make a massive amount of mana.     "For war mongering, looting and pillaging. All these things you have allready been found guilty of!"     "This is only carrying out your setnace!" Cirra holds the card up over her head and slams it down to the ground. "Sword..."     "JUDGEMENT!" and like a thundercrack, the magic circle spreads out across the ground, and transposes itself up into the air, high above everyone.     A Blade of purest, bluest crystal descends down from the magic circle and begins to swing back and forth over Harald's mutated body.     Cirra turns around, facing away from the wolf-mutant. "For one who claims to be a ruler, only one judgement is fitting."     "DAMOCLES!"     The sword seems to be 'cut' from it's strings, and falls down on the once, Wolf-Lord. Angeing to slice right through his entire form.
Zwei	Something could be said for Asche's lack of ability to show expression on that faceplate in such dealings, being a luxury sacrificed in favour of perfect efficiency in the arts of war, but ultimately, his face is, in fact, the more honest of the two. Weiss can let someone believe whatever she wants as to how her greater mind thinks and feels about them. Asche makes no suggestions that Zwei's true thoughts are anything but impossible to fully understand.     "I would be a liar to say that I came here with any mind for you, beyond that to see through to the inevitable master of the Wolf Lord's chains. It would suit me well enough to kill you for that action alone, but a poor choice of means does not invalidate its end. At least, not only once. I have no attachments to Cosmo nor fear of Chaos. I would see my own way for this world, but if George believes it is not mutually exclusive with yours, or that it may even intersect, then I will allow him some time to decide, and by extension, time for you to vindicate him or prove him misguided." That isn't the kind of thing anyone normally says to a BBeG. Certainly not a righteous hero, but not an antihero, mercenary, rival or fellow villain either. Asche has also conspicuously left out what exactly it is that he expects Andore to do, making no implicit demands for, or warning against, anything. It's what a true, objectively neutral, or at least objectively morally removed, figure would put forward; one willing to completely ignore all the trappings of a being that screams evil, corruption and destruction just by looking at it.     The others don't look like they need help with Harald. There was no realistic chance of him surviving against so many like those that are gathered, transformation or no. He looks to the damaged forearm undergoing accelerated reconstruction, clenching his fist briefly before casually wheeling to fire on the thoroughly besieged Wolf Lord's amalgam, discharging the second bolt of energy so dense that the air briefly fuses from its passage; but the starkly, almost frighteningly plain flash of utilitarian obliteration that results from a direct impact is merely a nail in the coffin already built and buried by the others.
Landon al Cid	Saber's blade sashes into the Lance Soul's chest. It comes out the other side in an instant, Servant Strength driving magical sword. The Lance Soul hangs there for a moment, then slumps to its knees and scatters, vanishing into nothingness. At the same time, Audrey flings its core self to Dragoon Man, who lifts it, like one of the legendary Dragoons of old.
Landon al Cid	Plasma missiles saturate the area. Superheated missiles burn the air as Sanary fills the room with healing power, boosting everyone connected to her. That boost is well-timed as Lyria reaches up and grabs the chainsaw, the weapon roaring furiously to life. She dives into the corrupted flesh, its teeth tearing and shredding and ripping without mercy through the remnants of the Wolf as the superheated plasma burns furiously. The pitiful creature thrashes and writhes angrily, thrashing out at everything in its path.      Aestus Estus burns away the Wolf's upper jaw again. It burns through flesh and bone, sticking firmly in the monster's body. The thing swells, like a grotesque flesh balloon, then deflates, sizzling and smoking. Seft brings the battle-axe in to tear into the burned parts, digging and hacking and dragging flesh with the mighty weapon.      Thanatos carves into the monstrosities, tearing away...nothing. But where it passes, lumps of flesh simply disintegrate and vanish, disappearing as if they had never been. The moments of those tortured souls are cast into the winds, to whatever fate they finally will arrive at. What fate that may be, none can say. Moonfin helps hasten those poor bastards to their final rewards/punishments, blade flashing and dancing along to help make Thanatos that much more effective. Pavo collects what falls off, the tainted flesh and remnants of Harald Wolf-Lord and the dead Irregulars worth something to some, surely...but the weapon-claws and teeth and eyes, probably worth far, far more. Raw materials are always worth recycling, after all, even if the weapons themselves are just nice (Shivan-make) axes and swords.      Cirra pronounces guilt. The Judge Blade, powered by Dark Knight sacrifice, dangles over the final remnants of the creature. It falls, heavy with the weight of Harald's crimes, and smashes the head to bits as Asche's bolt of energy comes pouring through. Law and Order and the final blast of plasma meet, and the blade erupts into crystalline chunks, tearing the last bits of the Wolf to shreds.
Landon al Cid	Andore's twisted face curls upwards in a smile at George. It is not a nice smile. It is the smile of something very old and very cunning seeing an Opportunity - and it probably mirrors George's smile in a lot of ways that may or may not be entirely comfortable, depending on whether or not he's, well, you know, entirely OK with that look looking back at him. "Yes," he says slowly, "I believe that I do. Let us speak at a later date. I am *most* intrigued, indeed."      Andore gives Asche a long, lingering stare. The creature seems unimpressed. "You are not the first would-be god I have seen. You will not be the last. Save your threats, outlander. I am not cowed-"      GUNGNIR INTERRUPT.      The hit crashes into Andore like a tidal wave. There's a shockwave from the mere force of the connection, as it hammers against his shoulder. The ceiling rattles. The ground shakes.      Andore reaches up with his mighty hand and plucks the spear from his shoulder, giving Dragoon Man a very long look. "You did not truly imagine that turning my own weapon against me would work, did you? Dragoons have gone down in quality so."      "Regardless, I have seen enough." Andore rips the spear out of his shoulder, taking it in his hands. "I shall take my leave. At a later date, god-children, heroes, and outlanders. At a later date."      Andore draws something out of his...mouth? Out of some hidden compartment? It's hard to tell. The little thing looks like a blinking box. His thumb presses down against the thing, and...      ...he vanishes.      And it wasn't magical.      Andore gone, the team is left alone, with the howling white winds pouring chill through the numerous holes in the icy tower.      MISSION COMPLETE.
Soan Sagittarius	Dragoon Man, holding down his arm, does not look too disraught when the spear hits Andore and practically does nothing to him. The stare he gives to the creature is less 'HOW COULD IT NOT WORK!?' and more 'I could've done that with a real spear, instead I used yours knowing it'd do this. Enjoy.'      Then he's gone.      Soan grunts, a leg shaking as he falls down to a knee, now that the danger is passed, taking a moment to take a breather. Yeah. Looks like things has gone a lot more complicated, Elders.      It's not just the Berserker Job Crystal anymore.
Cirra Constantine	Cirra immediatly collpases to her kness, hands on the floor gasping for breath.
Sanary Rondel	With that massive output of magical energy, it's probably not much of a surprise to anyone that Sanary's all but leaning on that staff, the wood creaking in protest at her weight and that of her armor. She's quite literally used up all of the magical energy in her reserves during that last massive burst, having only enough strength to brace herself on the staff.      Still, a healer's job is never done, and she pulls another thermos out of her sack before chugging from the new one. Sure, it's probably not going to do her any favors in the morning, but... Screw it. She's already started drinking that stuff, anyway, and at least keeping Cirra stable might get the cleric on her good side later.
Lyria Mason	Lyria Mason knows there's a lot going on and there's likely far more to worry about after this but one thing at a time she's covered in posisbly gore from this thing as she cuts thrtough it she falls away as plasma comes in. She akso sees otehrs attacking moving to fall there's so many others coming in. She catches sight of Dragoon Man's final action against Androre and the fall of what was the Wolf Lord. She turns off the chainsaw and pushes the mask up above her face and just stares at the aftermath, the Enemy is stepping up it's game and this does not bode well.
Cirra Constantine	"I'm fine." she mutters as Sanary prepares to heal her. She wasn't in immediate danger. But the blood loss from generating that much HP (via dark knight path) results in anemia. She pushes up to her feet again, and briefly considers decking that smug look of Archer's face, but doesn't stop Sanary from healing her.
Staren	And with that, Harald Wolflord is no more. His legacy will stand as what, the man who betrayed his followers to Chaos? Staren just doesn't understand it...     Speaking of Chaos, the mysterious Andore activates some kind of device and goes. Staren's sensors check for spatial distortions, but he's not sure if that's really useful information. They just /saw/ the guy teleport, after all. Or maybe turn invisible. "Everyone alright?"
Kyra Hyral	Sanary's efforts do not go wasted. Kyra is able to direct the extra MP right into her casting of Holy, the rest she carries saved for the use by Saber. She doesn't get the chance to see how far her MP can go but on the other hand, it wasn't something she wanted to do in the middle of a critical fight.     The mysterious draconic Andore...vanishes on them. No magic, either, as she would have seen that. "...void...?" she murmurs, clearly shaken by what she's seen today. It was /real/, all sorts of real. She'd seen and witnessed and even measured to some extent actual /chaos spawn/, which were a piece of a religion she had rejected. Despite that, Kyra does manage a distant-sounding, "Fine...I'm fine."
Nero	Saber let out a breath once the soul fell in defeat and vanished. That was...quite a battle. She looked down at herself, taking note of her condition. Slashes, tears, blood, and scuffs all over. How unsightly. Oh well, she would live. It would take more than this to kill her. Much more than this.      And with that, Saber walked over to her Master and smiled. "Praetor! The battle is over! Did I do well?" She asked, with an expectant look on her face.
Soan Sagittarius	Dragoon Man took on the healing. Sanary knows this, she can feel she affected something. But when people goes to look for the Dragoon, he is gone, already. The fragment of his spirit armor on the ground vanishes in tiny sparks of magical particles.
Kyra Hyral	"You just went up against something I would have laughed off as nonexistant a week ago." Kyra says to Saber, clapping a hand on her shoulder. "You did awesome. Only really way would have been to defeat and capture the weapon...but today we've learned just how powerful it is and that it won't be easy." Her eyes glisten, "Meaning it will be that much sweeter when we succeed." And all the while she speaks, she is funneling her healing magic into the Servant.
Nero	And with that response, Saber smiled wide in satisfaction. "Mhmhm! Of course! Have no fear, Praetor! When I am by your side, there is nothing we cannot do!" Someone was confident. Forever, forever confident. Once the healing was done, the Servant dissipated into a shimmer of magic particles, shifting to spirit form. The battle was over. There was no more need to be corporeal. She'd hang about for now and take it easy.
Starbound Flotilla	The Starbounders settle. Biteblade's armor is torn into shreds. Moonfin is exhausted. Albert is torn up, but mostly healed from his temporary KO. Seft is burned and shredded. Pavo's power is utterly drained. George is dented up and wounded, but Sanary's boosts helped with that. "Starbound Squad sound, report status." "Floran hunt biggessst wolf. Live." "This is far from the final chapter of my life, or the battles I will face." "Loaded down on loot, ye lazy dogs! Only one that seemed to want it!" "Status. Damaged, but functional. I will survive until I can be repaired." "Alive." "George?" "I'm alive, man. Nothin' more to say." "Hmh."     George grins at the space where Andore was. Maybe he only knew Mister G indirectly, or even not at all. Or maybe they've been working together in secret. He doesn't know the details. But he knows that by the time he's finished here, Andore will be partners with the ones he's secretly acting in the interest of. His helmet unfolds over his face, flaring red in the visor, hiding his own crimson eyes. He smiles wide, a vicious, almost crazed grin under the mask. He has his plans. He had his spark, now he's found his kindling. He's tired of ice. Time for some fire.
Soan Sagittarius	Dragoon Man's presence is much like theorical particles. He is not observerable when you actually look for him.
Archer	As the battle finally ends, Archer lets out a long, almost tired-sounding breath. Not one of physical weariness... but of a more psychological form. A sigh of tired exasperation, as if wordlessly asking what the point of it all was.     Harold Wolf-Lord was dead. His nation was in shambles and his people broken.      And in all honesty... it would not fix one thing. The land was collapsing, it's people in chaos and it's 'culture' fragmented - all of this had been how Shiva started. The most they had done was reset the board.      They may have ended the war with this... but they hadn't truly saved anyone. Shiva would return to it's destitute, leaderless state and all who fought for it's freedom - or those who survived that is - would become little more then bandits. And if absorbed or even simply assisted by Ramuh... it would no longer be an independent land.      In that... Harold Wolf-Lord could actually have been said to have won. For he'd proven his point in the end - that Shiva would not be left alone, regardless of if he was dead or alive.     What would come of it though... was uncertain. Only time would tell in that regard... if this world survived whatever 'Andore' had in store for it.     Turning around, he glances at some of the faces he fought beside in a more direct manner, giving a nod to Sanary for her help in a silent thank-you.     He also casts a glance to Shirou, giving an expression that is perhaps the biggest shock Shirou could ever have - a nod of silent approval, wordlessly agreeing with the boy's act of ending the torment of the souls trapped within the dying husk that was Harold Wolf-Lord.      It could almost be taken as a possibly-disturbing sign that Emiya Shirou's beliefs synchronize with Archer on at least one aspect; namely that death is a form of release for those that cannot be saved, or that one lacked the ability to save.      The Red Knight gives a simple nod toward Audrey, finding that he's managed to get on rather amicable working terms with her - something he is rarely used to experiencing.     Perhaps in a more callous manner, he walks past where Cirra is and gives an inquisitive glance in her direction, giving her what could be considered scathing parting words; "You found him guilty of the crimes of war... and yet I can't seem to recall a single charge you made that /anyone/ who partakes in war is not guilty of." His voice sounds bemused, but his expression is impassive and emotionless. "I wonder... exactly who's 'justice' was attained today? The people of Shiva? Of Ramuh? Or the al Cid family? Or... was it more direct then that?"      He could have said 'was it more personal'... but that would have been too heavy handed a hint as to what Archer had implied.      Again taking note of the 'Red Saber' as he'd found himself calling her, Archer takes the chance to comment on her blade, giving a slight smile - "You have a very unique weapon... Emperor Nero." The comment is deliberate - a notation to let her know he's aware of her identity. "A bit... flashy for my tastes, but I cannot dispute it's effectiveness." He gives a slight bow - just a simple tilting of his body. "You have my thanks for allowing me to use it."      With that, the bowman takes a final glance around the area, observing the states of all the others who had fought - Kyra, Dominic, Lyria, Mirielle, Staren and the Flotilla-members - Archer takes his final leave of the site of battle, vanishing as he enters spirit-form and fades from sight - just as Harold Wolf-Lord had vanished from the face of Shiva forever.