Scene #4668: Chaos in Bevelle

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Bahamut	Late afternoon in Bevelle. The sun is starting to sink low in the sky. The busy streets of the city are bustling with activity as people head home from their jobs or shopping. Armed soldiers patrol the streets, ready to defend the citizens or break up a fight at a moments notice. The city is obviously designed around the temple in the middle of the city. The massive main thoroughfare leads right to the gigantic door of the temple, and the city quarters fan out like wings of a butterfly around it. A few airships can be seen in the sky, along with the guardian of the city and this world. Bahamut, the great metal dragon of Bevelle. He flies in large, slow circles around the city, watching the surrounding lands and the city itself for trouble. Troubles that the city guard can't handle or shouldn't have to handle. All in all, a normal day. So far. https://worldalchemist.files.wordpress.com/2014/02/bevelle.jpg?w=620
Argast Wyrdseeker	A peaceful city that needn't be afraid as long as their protector was in the sky? A perfect place to shatter the illusion of safety, and please the lord of change at the same time. Emerging from a portal, Argast and his warband of warriors aligned to the 4 gods look over the city, and march for the gates. "Hmm.....I think he would be upset with me if I didn't invite him to the fun..." He says. Taking the scroll from his belt, he openned it and spoke the words written. He was summoning his far future equivilent, Alpharius of the Alpha Legion, or at least that was the name he was given. "Look to the guards, and destroy all in your path. But remember why we are here..." Said a chosen warrior, now clad in his own set of armor.
Ixqor Nathrach	The earth quaked nearby as it was torn asunder, the portal opened in the dirt, a tear in space time itself. From it rose a circular platform with the would be serpent sorcerer of the Alpha Legion, standing readied upon it. His blade, Jomungandr, daemon weapon of the divine twin blades, was already unsheathed and pointed at the dirt, as the legionnaire posed like a statue of some terrible knight in a chapel. Stepping from his platform, the dirt circle crumbled back into the void and the portal closed, leaving a few foot deep hole as everything was swallowed around it. "Something urgent, Argast?" Ixqor survey his surroundings, noting the beautiful pink and red sky. It was nearing dusk. He saw the ornate island like city and the warriors who marched to it, chanting in norscan tongue. He heard the war drums and the beating of steel against shield as the warriors psyched themselves up for slaughter. No more was need be said then. His question was somewhat foolish to ask in that regard. "The enemy. Who shall we prey upon? What do the god's demand of their golden city?" The warrior walked beside his friend and tilted his head just slightly to still be looking at Argast. His helm seemed to have changed slightly, as the once matching horizontal slant that served as his right visor was replaced witha vertical, rugged hole, covered by the same glass as his other. Seems he'd taken a wound recentky. As he awaited Argast's instruction, the serpent blade took form, turning from metal and blade into living moving warp energy, taking on teh form of a toxic green coloured snake with black eyes and fangs. Connected to teh hilt, it extended and coiled around Ixqor like a velvet drape, it's head rising next to Ixqor's and staring at Argast with emotionless eyes. Ixqor glanced at it and seemed to scratch at it's chin lovingly, pleased with Jomungandr's readiness.
Bahamut	As soon as that pillar rises, startled cries can be heard from surrounding citizens. Cries such as 'an evil Aeon!' can be heard from a few, and the area around Ixqor quickly empties, followed soon after by the footsteps of soldiers moving in to point their long spears toward the threat. The city gates, usually left open, are quickly closed by gigantic machinery turning huge gears. They close with a thunderous sound as the massive metal plates that are the gates come to rest, and the city guards quickly take up ranks along the walls with their rifles at the ready. Hundreds of soldiers stand ready, and behind the gate many more wielding those spears take up position. But, perhaps the most noticable response is the dark shadow that passes over the gathering horde outside the city. A look up would show it to be the draconic guardian steadily circling his way down. He lands just outside the gates, shaking the ground with his bulk and the force of his landing. He lets out a roar that shakes the ground again, then rises up to stand at his full height as he crosses his forearms over his thick metal chestplates. "Who are you? What do you want here?" he demands, his deep, rumbling voice easily carrying across the distance between them while the sunlight glints of his metallic armored scales and feathers.
Argast Wyrdseeker	Argast grins under his helmet at Ixqor and Jormungandr. "Simple...we are going into the city, and taking 'sacrifices' for the ritual of deamonic summoning. I will become a deamonhost and achieve symbiosis akin to you and your companion." He says. He slowly moves forward and looks to the gates closing, and the men with gunds. "I am Argast Wyrdseeker, Sorceror of Tzeench. I have come to spread his word and bring the faithful to our temple..." He says, using his dark words in an attempt to sway Bahamut, or any of the guards that were within earshot.
Ixqor Nathrach	Ixqor smiled beneath his helm and the serpent daemon seemed to chuckle as it turned it's head to the sky and wiggled, showing off it's fangs. He moved beside Argast and gave a curt bow to the dragon before them. Even Jomungandr seemed to stretch away from Ixqor and bow it's head seperately. "We come as emissaries of the great gods! Before you are the faithful, those empowered by our gods' greatness! Will you not let your people hear their song?" IXqor raised his head slightly, awaiting an answer to his lie. "Why, even you can hear their enlightening tune, guardian creature."
Bahamut	Bahamut snorts at that, the smoke of his breath curling into the air. "I have never seen missionaries who came with an army. You are free to spread any word you wish, but you will not enter this city armed and armored with an army at your back. You have three options as I see it. Dismiss them and disarm, leave this place and return when you are feeling more...amicable. Or, attack and be destroyed." Bahamut spreads his wings after that, the massive wingspan and his 15 foot height providing quite the daunting figure. "I am Bahamut, Dragon King of Spira and Aeon of Bevelle. And it is my duty to protect these people from whatever evil might seek to harm them. If you wish to challenge me, so be it. But be warned. I have yet to be defeated by anyone in combat. And the soldiers of Bevelle are well trained. Your army has no chance against us."
Argast Wyrdseeker	Argast sighs softly. "Then it seems we are at an impasse. Ah well....the khornites will be happy, at least. Alpharius, can you deal with that troublesome door?" He asks. He already gathers his magic, and the soldiers would find that somehow, things they feared began to emerge from every shadow, save for Bahamut. He would see nothing.
Ixqor Nathrach	Ixqor chuckled shaking his head, rising from the bow. "Then you have never seen true devouts, Bahamut." Ixqor rolled his neck and stepped forward. "If you would wager than no one can defeat you, why do you stand an army? Do you not truly believe your own words, King?" Another step forward. "Or is it that you simply have not come to know a true enemy?" Yet another step. "Do you believe yourself a god king? A divine being?" Ixqor pointed accusingly to the drake. "I believe thee to have deceived thine own people. And I will prove that you are no god, no divinity, no true worthy ruler." All the while, Jumungandr actually slipped from the hilt of the weapon briefly, slithering quickly over past Bahamut, and hoping to make way through the distracted guards. Once past them, if able at all, the otehrwordly serpent would use it's warp like instability to briefly phase through the outer layer of the metal door and into it's inner workings like a phantom. Returning back to a more tangeable state, the daemon creature would bear it's fangs against the locking machinations and tear reality asunder. Hopefully, this would allow the doors to be pushed open, or even swing them open!
Bahamut	Bahamut listens to Ixqor's words with a confident smirk. "I did not say no one could defeat me. I said I have yet to be defeated. A day may come when I am defeated by someone, but not by the likes of you. I am completely honest with my people. I am not a god, nor a king of men. You deceive yourself if you believe you can undermine me or dethrone me. There are no deceptions to undermine, nor thrones to destroy." Bahamut blinks as he realizes that the soldiers are starting to balk and step back from something. With nothing in his vision, he can only assume that the threat of actual battle is getting to them. "Stand firm, soldiers of Bevelle! We will repel this threat! It is our duty, as guardians of Be-" Bahamut's words end suddenly as that demonic serpent suddenly slithers forward. Bahamut is big and powerful, but he is not fast. The swift serpent easily makes it past him, and he growls before throwing a spell at it. A lightning spell. Harmless to the big metal gate, but certain to cause some harm to a creature attacking the gate. "Thundara!" It is unlikely the single spell will end the serpent, and so the locking mechanisms are destroyed. But, the creature would soon find that the locks are not the only things holding the doors in place. Their sheer size makes them an obstacle, and their default position is closed. If the army wants in, it will have to push open those massive, heavy doors.
Argast Wyrdseeker	"It would seem your men lack the same faith that you do, Bahamut. Where yours break, the soldiers who follow my gods are like steel. They do not break." He says. Tapping into his dark magics, he amplifies the horror aspect, trying to make the men panic and flee, or make their poor hearts give out on them. As for the warband, they press towards the door. "You deny your people the true faith, False Prophet!" One warrior clad in blue armor shouts out defiantly, staring down the Dragon King. "You lead them down the path of ruination! We will show them the true path!" He shouts. Argast had to admit, the warrior had balls.
Ixqor Nathrach	Jomungandr spassamed and shook, writhing in breathe agony before materializing on the hilt of the blade it was bound to, still shaking from the electricity. It did it's job, now was the time for Ixqor to do his. He glanced to the blue chaos warrior and held out his hand at him. "Continue as planned, but the drake is mine!" He returns his gaze to Bahamut and begins to form an orb of chaotic energies in his free hand. "Then you will be all the easier to set aside for now." Extending the spell wielding hand forward, a barrage of dark blue and black bolts of pure chaos energy hurled themselves towards Bahamut, almost screaming in the air as they came. What appeared to be maybe six attacks multiplied as the larger bolts split several times, forming a proveriable hale of arcane death on the dragon king. If hit, the very attacks would not only simmer and burn his flesh, but rock his very soul, perhaps even making himself begin to feel doubt and worry. "Blood for the blood god! Pleagues for the plague God! Pleasures for the dark prince! And deceit for the lying god!" Ixqor spat out into the sky, a rallying cry for the clearly eager warriors.
Bahamut	Bahamut is...rather annoyed by these people. And even more by what they keep saying. He is not a god. He has never presented himself as such. But, he -is- a beacon for the people of Spira. And as that searing rain smashes against his armored body, he lets out a might roar. He feels the burning of his body and his soul, and he does indeed feel the tinge of doubt and worry. But, one of his main assets is his firm resolve and strong mind. "You spout nonsense, dark soldier. I am not a prophet. You seek to build me up only to undermine the confidence and resolve of the city. Well, this city has seen great loss and great deception. We will not be so easily swayed!" He bellows that last word, and his soldiers start to fire on the incoming horde. "We have been led down the path of ruination before! We will not be led astray again!" Despite his words, his soldiers are only men with the resolve to protect their city. Many are shaken, and now that Bahamut has experienced the magic of the enemy before him he suspects they are not afraid of the battle. It is something else. "Soldiers of Bevelle! These men attack with Fear! You have trained for this! You know what to do!" Bahamut himself is not swayed and stands his ground. He rumbles and starts to shake as he builds power, and several orbs of blue-grey appear around his shoulders, orbiting him. Then, with a roar he launches them at Ixqor and the incoming army. The orbs spiral unpredictably through the air before impacting the ground around them. Explosions of energy follow, causing moderate damage and possibly turning the weaker soldiers to stone. On the walls, the Bevelle defenders stop firing and pull out potions, quickly quaffing them even as they tremble in fear. Argast, if he can sense such things, may notice that the fear he cast on them is dispelled. But, the time it takes the army to reorient itself gives him and his followers plenty of time to close in.
Argast Wyrdseeker	Argast hmph's softly at his fear spell is undone. But his men charge in and up towards the soldiers. "For the Gods of Chaos! Raid this city, take our sacrifices for the Dark Gods!" Argast screams out. In his hands form fireballs, which are launched towards the defenders, and the odd one for Bahamut. But for Ixqor, he would see what manner of sorceries his friend and ally in dark service held.
Ixqor Nathrach	Ixqor slammed a front foot forward into the ground and braced himself against the oncoming attack, gritting his teeth under his helm as the arcane pains washed over him. He resisted the petrification, unlike some unlucky warriors who were thusly pushed aside to the ground or simply moved around without a care, but for a moment he felt his arm tense up and become heavy. This dragon was ineeded not all but talk, but neither were he and Argast. It would be a true test of his skill, one on one, sorcery against sorcery. He channeled his power through the daemon serpent and pointed his 'blade' forward. Jomungandr opened wide it's jaw as a beam of concentrated liquid, appearing to almost be acid like shot out at high velocity. "Nurgle take thee dragon! Succumb to his thousand plagues!" Like a terrible rain, the stream of foul smelling and even more terrible looking bile began to fall upon Bahamut and the enemy lines like rain. Every drop ate away at metal, albeit slowly, and rotted away flesh. "Writhe in Jomungandrs' venom non believers! Warriors! Move to slaughter their defensive line!" With the last of the spray shot, Ixqor turned to the crowd of advancing warriors. None could see it, but behind his helm and visor, his normally calm, smooth criminal like attitude was fading. He was resorting to what he had been breed to do from the first day he was kidnapped as but a meer imperial child. To kill for, and venerate the Dark God's. Ixqor moved his blade down to face the warrior he singled out as 'worthy'. "You! Champion! Submit thineself to our God's, for I choose thee to carry their gifts!" Without any form of consent, Jomungandr barred it's fangs and clamped the warrior around the waist, holding him high in the air like a ragdoll. Where he may resist and scream, Ixqor only laughed briefly. "Now Bahamut! See the might of the warp! Look upon those who receive our Gods' boons!" The warrior was suddenly engulfed in terrible lightning and cloud like smog, as horrible warp energies began to fill his very being. Many would die from this, in fact many would turn to simple spawndom, and revert to primordial ooze. THis warrior however became something more than man. The veil was lifted, and the warrior set down to the ground, his armor having burst off, and weapon destroyed. He had no need for them now, as when teh dust settled, the warriors who stopped to look upon him saw he himself had become a weapon. Now, he stood eight feet tall, and was absolutely hulking in size. Twisted ram liek horns sprouted from his head, and his feeble set of two eyes was replaced with eight pairs. He suffered a terrible underbite, and grew large boar like tusks for fangs. His skin turned a deep rose red, and he breathed slowly. Standing from the ground, the man, no, the creature let out a terrible, unnatural roar before it began sprinting on all fours, running over or pushing aside comrades, towards the enemy lines! "Let him slake his thirst, for blood and slaughter!"
Bahamut	Getting to the enemy lines might prove a challenge. They are still elevated and the walls are quite thick. But, behind the gate there are spearmen waiting, and unless the chaos army is very adept at climbing, it would be these men that they face first. The riflemen would fire in waves, syncronized as they fired, bolted another round, then fired again. The shots are strong, but thick armor or fierce resolve might carry the barbarian warriors through to the spearmen. Then, the real battle starts. The spearmen use those spears to impale the first wave of charging barbarians before pulling back and using the spears like staves. Bahamut does his best to keep them from reach the line, but he is only one dragon. And he now has another problem to worry about. Bahamut braces himself for the charge, and with a roar he reaches to catch those big ram horns. The dragon is sent skidding back by the impact, and he growls with the efffort of stopping the charge. But, once he has a firm grip...he spreads those wings and takes to the sky. He carries the transformed warrior with him, having to weather any attacks it might unlease as he carries it. Bahamut may not have agility, but his flight speed is spectacular. He barrels upward, then back down, and when he reaches terminal velocity he sends the beast crashing down with all the force of a crashing train behind him. Bahamut's majestic wings pull him up at the last moment, and he charges in toward Ixqor, those gigantic talons raised and ready to rend the man's armor and the flesh beneath.
Argast Wyrdseeker	Argast watches as Ixqor transforms the warrior and laughs heartily. "Yes.....YES!!!! Such glory!" He quickly turns to his warband. "THAT is your reward! Power unimaginable! Ravage these defenders, and make your gods witness you!" He screams. That was enough of a morale boost to push some to fight harder, especially the red-colored marauders. They went into something Ixqor might be familar with, a Berzerker rage. Though the dragon king gains the eyes of the old world sorceror. "I will not let my brother in darkness fall so easily. Winds of magic, BOW TO ME!!!" He calls forth a fireball, but continues to pour magic into it, causing it to grow in size. The strain was real for Argast, and he nearly lost the spell twice, but at critical mass, he hurled a massive fireball for the dragon's head.
Ixqor Nathrach	As the ram horned beast collided with teh drake and was swept away, it clawed vorasciously at Bahamut, even going so far as to try and rip flesh from bone with it's bear fangs, actually eating and swalling whatever hunks of scales and meat it could lob off. That was, until it was promptly sent crashing to earth like a blazing angry meorite. With one last defiant, beligerent yell, the creature fell from teh heavens and left a small crater in the nearby landscape, and was utterly destroyed. At the very least, it's example may prove to push the warriors forward, and Argast is already capitalizing on that. Ixqor, caught up in teh reveling, looks to the sky, only to be greated with teh sight of the swooping drake. He held up Jomungandr who aptly struck back, lashing out and scraping away at the dragons talon, acting much like the bolts Ixqor fired out earlier, but something felt different. Instead of distilling fear, the serpent daemon did not just strike Bahamut, it seemed to have actually take a part of his very being with him, his soul, and devoured it. A small fraction, and replaceable of course, but a terrifying aspect of the daemon that resided within. It fed on souls, it needed every scrap it could get just to manifest. Ixqor still suffered the blow though and the talons rended a large gash across Ixqors power armor, and chest in the swooping action. He fell to a knee, clenching at the wound and yelling out painfully. "Curse thee!" He said through gritted teeth. The wound was not fatal, but deep enough that without some form of treatment, he would bleed out, even with his enhanced physiology at work. The warriors advanced, clanging their weapns together, getting closer and closer to the spear line at teh top of teh stairs, showing hardly any weariness at all, even as their numbers fell. Each rifle shot sent one warrior down, if it was placed well, but another simply took their place, and although their numbers fell, they knew one thing. If they were to reach the spearmen in melee, this battle was all but finished. The red clad warriors in paticular began to take a huge lead from the rest, brimming with fury, some took shots that brought entire arms off, but kept running, in a psychotic state, until their bodies simply gave out underneath them. One warrior fell next to Ixqor, and he took advantage of teh soon to be dead servent. "I have need of you!" He hissed, Jomungandr slithering on the ground to the downed warrior. Without any chance to object, the snake plunged it's fangs into the mans throat and began to turn him gaunt, as if he aged a year per second. At the end, he was a horrible skeleton of his former self, and his helm simply rolled off. Ixqor's wound however, had healed in a strange fashion, a purple and blue mass of 'tissu'e forming over it. Not stiffling the effects, but stopping the bleeding. Struggling to his feet, Ixqor relied on Argast to buy him time to fully recover.
Bahamut	The fireball explodes against Bahamut, a direct hit, but with all of his momentum and weight it doesn't stop his charge. It does however leave him flaming and roaring in pain, the metal plates of his head and chest smoldering and slightly deformed from the heat and blast. After slashing Ixqor, he flies up into the air again, then dives once more. This time, his target is Argast. Like a gigantic bird of prey, Bahamut dives with hands and feet bared, the sharp talons of both ready to rend him just as they did his cohort. Like a falling comet, the metal dragon creates a vaccuum wave behind him as he dives and the air can be seen rippling past him with the speed of his dive. The rifle soldiers do their best, but they can't stop the army from reaching the walls of Bevelle. The huge metal doors are pushed open, and the spearmen meet the charge of the red clad warriors. They are highly trained and used to dealing with dangerous creatures, but few of the things they fight are fueled by pure rage like these warriors. Still, the spearmen fight valiently, their battle cries mixing with the blood-thirsty barbarians' howls. The riflemen keep firing, now focusing on those troops not yet inside.
Argast Wyrdseeker	Argast grimmaces as the incoming dragon king and moves to do his best to avoid major damage. "Seems I have your attention... Now, do a favor and die." He says darkly. He throws a hand towards Bahamut, hoping tat the following gout of flame from his hand does enough to scorch. The warriors, meanwhile, show that intense fury can often times shut out pain. Many are impaled and otherwise fatally wounded by the spearmen, but they don't stop the onslaught. They were truely berserking now.
Ixqor Nathrach	Ixqor looked to the sky again, and braced for a second attack, but raised a brow as the dragons focus went to Argast. It was the time he would need to make his move. Bahamut was a secondary to the main objective, as the dragon king would do no service to them later dead. Ixqor stood and began running up the stairs, trailing the horde and reaching the brunt of the melee in due time. The berzerkers were going down, but only because their bodies were giving out. Even dead they still twitched and writhed, as if their minds were attempting to defy death itself in order to continue killing. Now in amongst the crowd, Ixqor held Jomungandr high, giving a rally cry. "Death to all who oppose chaos! Show no mercy!" He pushed aside some of the eager warriors then and ran straight into the spear line. His armor, though easily torn apart by swooping dragons, was snapping the spears in half as they came against his unwounded areas. Ixqor began striking at the crowd, in a rather strange fashion. He moved his blkade hilt in twirling fashions, pulling it out and away before thrusting forward at nothing. The serpent however took these as commands, the motions were a means of charming the serpent into attackingw hatever Ixqor pleased. Fangs barred, the daemon serpent clamped onto one of the spearmen by the waist and attempted to fling him about the enemy lines like a ragdoll, hoping to break their cohesion, and let the chaos forces push through and encircle their lines. Once the spearman outlived his usefullness, Jomungandr sucked out whatever life force it coudl before tossing him behind the battle, letting him roll down the stairway. Then Ixqor went about the battle as normal, hoping to take advantage of the chaos he caused by throwing more and more of the soldiers away, and draining their essence to fuel Jomungandrs' fury.
Bahamut	Scorch it does, and sizzling wounds are visible on Bahamut's body after the fireball and flame attacks. However, once again it does not stop the charge. Bahamut lands with the full force of a thousand pounds of metal and fury, those talons cutting into armor and flesh alike. "You first." he growls, his voice deep and rumbling. The spearmen numbers steadily decline, and the riflemen steadily file down from the wall, firing into the building crowd of chaos warriors. Bahamut notices the battle at the walls turning in favor of the invaders. He releases Argast, likely taking a few more spells in the process, then launches into the air again. He flies over the walls and dives down to land behind the Bevelle lines, then moves to all fours and with a powerful, purposeful stomp of each limb plants his talons in the ground. "Your foul corruption will not claim this city!" he bellows, then the golden gyro floating above his back starts to spin. White arcs of energy burst from it, flowing over him before collecting at his open maw. They gather and coalesce, and starting forming a blue-white energy orb that steadily grows in size. The spearmen fight all the harder, holding back the enemy as best they can, and the riflemen try to fire faster. Something is about to happen.
Argast Wyrdseeker	"Foolish Dragon. We don't want your city. But it's people..." Argast says, sounding a bit more...sinister. As for Bahamut, Argast decides to take a risk. If the king wore metal, why not turn it against him? He focused into his least understood lore, the Lore of Metal, in an attempt to make the dragon king crash to the ground.
Ixqor Nathrach	Ixqor smiled, Jomungandr was growing ever more powerful with every ounce of life it took from the soldiers. No more would need to be done in regards to the soldiers, the warriors were already disarming the ones they deemed worthy of tribute and capture, and began to force them through the crowds. The much larger, standard bearing warriors sounded their horns. With at least twenty men and women taken up as captives, this would be enough to lure a few potential elites to the ritual. THe warriors began to fall back, the red clad ones regretably having to break their murder make. As they began to fall back, Ixqor was still stuck amidst the assault. Ixqor noticed something terrible however. The spearmen were also backing away. Why would they retreat now? They seemed to have the chaos forces 'on the run', the wouldn't know this fall back was planned. Ixqor looked about as the enemies fled from melee with him until he saw Bahamut. His eyes went wide. He thought himself safe, he thought Argast would hold the dragons attention! Damn this so called king! He made to run, only to trip over a small set of corpses laying in the gates. At the edge of the stairway, Ixqor turned his head back to the dragon lord and raised his free hand in defiance. "NO! Until the prophecy is fulfilled, I must remain the only constant! You cannot thwart fate dragon!" Ixqor had the time to escape, but he did something strange. He threw Jomungandr down the stairway with what time he had, knowing it may be destroyed if he valued his own life over the blades. The sword was the world to him, and he was prepared to suffer for it's survival. "THE PROPHECY MUST BE FULFILLED! IT WILL BE COMPLETE!
Bahamut	Indeed, the remaining spearmen and riflement were fighting only to contain the horde, and once the bright flash of Bahamut charging became apparent they all pulled back, forming walls of soldiers along the only exits into the city. Bahamut grunted as he was forced down by Argast's magic, his weakened frame threatening to buckle under the added weight. But, he manages to stand firm, and just as Ixqor throws the sword back down the stairs, Bahamut unleashes his attack. What follows is unbridled destruction, perhaps even to a scale that these chaos followers may respect. A beam of pure energy fires from the dragon, easily as thick as the dragon king is tall. Searing blue-white engulfs anything still on the stairs from Bahamut's position to hundreds of feet beyond the gate. Those caught in the blast are saturated with pure energy, causing flesh and bone and armor to simply disintegrate, or at the least burst into flame or melt. The beam is sustained for what seems like eternity to anyone caught in the blast, and it starts causing eruptions of energy up into the sky as the very air and ground are oversaturated. After several long seconds of a sustained blast, the beam starts to fade, revealing a trail of molten rock and metal in its wake that starts flowing down the massive staircase. Once the blast finally subsides, Bahamut stands slowly and snorts. "On this world, thwarting fate is our life." he growls.
Argast Wyrdseeker	Argast watches as his ally is most likely obliterated in the blast. Yet he looks down and see's Jormungandr on the ground. "...That was a mistake, Dragon. My brother in darkness shall be avenged, and I will enjoy watching Tzeench devour your being and spit you back out in his service. I will laugh as The lord of change makes you into a dragon of his own, and has you destroy your city." He looks to his warband, and looks down to his armor. It was battered and even gouged in a few places. "WARBAND! Take the wounded and leave the dying on both sides. We have what we need." He orders. Of course, he would wait to leave last, should the deamonic blade desire him to escort it to safety.
Ixqor Nathrach	The white hot flash engulfes him, and with one final scream, he continues to show his unwavering defiance. "NO! I AM IXQOR, I CANNOT BE DEFEATED! THE GODS CHOSE MEEEEEE!" Caught in the absolute destruction that is Bahamuts true power, Ixqor is torn to pieces. His left arm is evaporated in front of his nearly blinded eyes. His right left also findes itself dissapearing, and both his remaining arm and leg are but slagged limbs as his armor cooks his body. HIs helm flies off and his face is exposed to the raw power of Bahamut. "BUT I AM CHOSEN! CHOSEEEEN!" He gurgles out in what seems to be his death throes. His body was hurled in that instant, pushed by teh sheer force of the blast out over the stairs, flying through the air. His sword, Jomungandr had landed by Argast, and teh serpent looked about frantically. Daemons knew no fear, but it seemed distraught, as though Ixqor truly was the daemons only ticket to reaching whatever end goal it was determined for. The daemon looked to the sky, and seemed to screech as it saw it's host fall towards them. Lunging out, it caught Ixqor in it's jaw, the force of being stopped rocking his hole body. His remaining leg, now just a husk, simply fell off and simmered from the heat that engulfed it. Gingerly, Jomungandr held Ixqor in the air, the hilt wiggling on the ground as it motioned towards Argast. With the daemons host lacking life force, it could hardly maintain it's form, and would need to be carried away soon. The time to leave was now, but oddly Jomungandr seemed hellbent on carrying the body of Ixqor with it. It's eyes told of a plan, one Argast could not comprehend right now, but it -needed- the sorcerer to live. Ixqor hismelf was still alive, by a mircale, his body clung to existance as his several hearts beat irregularly. With the help of the cult shamans, he could be sustained, but this healing would require different, strange methods.
Bahamut	With the enemy routed and the gates once again pushed closed, Bahamut finally collapses onto one hand, panting roughly with several open wounds and quite a bit of bleeding. He looks around at the remaining soldiers, who are cheering as they secure the gates and watch the enemy army withdraw. They feel as though they were victorious. They may never know that the enemy withdrew willingly. Medics rush the area once the battle is over, using potions and magic to tend to the wounded. Even fallen soldiers are spared death by use of Phoenix Down. Bahamut's wounds are fairly serious, and even though his bleeding is stopped, he remains hunched over. "I was also chosen." he rumbles. "As guardian of this world." he says to no one in particular. He stands again slowly as some strength returns to him, then he starts helping where he can with the wounded. They have prevailed today, but it took everything they had. Bahamut growls to himself as he considers ways to shore up Bevelle's defenses even as he assists the wounded.