[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/B7KsN1D.png[/img][/center]
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[b]Events: The king's death(?) - Duel between the Flame of Extermination and Hrothgar the Black - The Queen's Intervention
Location: Outside the harbor[/b]
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Gerard surveyed the engagement happening to the south from his perch atop the city walls. After cleverly peeling apart Relouse’s defenses with tactics and sorcery, Hrothgar the Black had finally made landfall. He and his elite champions were taking the beach by storm, and it seemed that the Parrench forces were in disarray. Those rallying around the Queen had become the most cohesive fighting unit still defending the beach and the outer harbor. 

[color=902EBD]“What’s taking so long Tristan!? We’re losing him!”[/color] [color=1A7811]”Stop shouting at me damn it! I’ve never treated a man who got hit by lightning!”[/color] Gerard’s two apprentices were huddled around the unmoving body of Captain Auclair, who had suffered mortal damage from the massive lightning strikes. Tristan was doing his best to stabilize him with essence magic, but the officer was showing no signs of regaining consciousness. 

Gerard turned back towards his acolytes and gazed upon the captain’s lifeless body. [color=F92D00]”Don’t waste any more magic on him. If he hasn’t woken up by now then he’s already gone.”[/color] 
 
Tristan nodded gravely and rose to his feet, ceasing all efforts to bring Auclair back. Misha was stunned by this and immediately began marching towards her master, grabbing his arm and shaking violently. [color=902EBD]“We’re not talking about some grunt soldier here! He’s a nobleman! We have to keep trying!”[/color]

Gerard threw her hands away with an unusual amount of aggression. [color=F92D00]”He’s gone! Feel for his manas! You and I both know it’s true! This is a gods damned war, you can’t be so soft anymore!”[/color] The raven haired apprentice looked like she was going to tear up and cry, but held it in somehow. Tristan approached from behind and held her shoulder comfortingly, but appeared to be in agreement with their superior. 

Another wave of hail blew across the walls, though Gerard had been constantly protecting their position by turning the ice into water before it landed. The fact that he was having a conversation with the younger priests all the while was a testament to his skill and concentration. The poor weather was taking its toll however. The troops were becoming demoralized by the wind and rain, which made the ground hard to walk on and chilled each man to the bone. 

[color=1A7811]“Master, what now? Without the captain, where shall we-”[/color] Tristan was interrupted as a soldier sprinted towards them from one of the battlements. 

[b]“The king! The king has fallen!”[/b] The messenger shouted at the top of his lungs. Those men who were still in fighting shape looked at each other doubtfully, and some began to lament their defeat under their breaths. This was devastating news. Losing the king meant losing the entire war. What could they possibly do without a leader to rally around? Even if Parrence survived this war, the now unified country would again devolve to infighting between petty warlords and would-be successors.

When word of the king’s death reached his ears, the air around Gerard seemed to change. Under his hood, his eyes were gleaming with rage. 

[i][color=F92D00]They’ve doomed this nation with their avarice.This cannot stand any longer. If they fancy themselves kingslayers, then we shall give them the same treatment.[/color][/i] The elder Rezaindian looked at his apprentices and began to lay out their next orders.

[color=F92D00]”If we are to survive this battle, we must destroy Hrothgar.”[/color]

[color=1A7811]”What?”[/color] [color=902EBD]“What!?”[/color] The two neophytes exclaimed in unison. Gerard walked back to the edge of the wall and looked upon the beach, where Hrothgar was cutting down the Parrench vanguard like wheat. 

[color=F92D00]”If we take them by surprise, I can kill Hrothgar myself. I will hide my image while Misha sends me down and provides support with her Force magic. Tristan, protect my body from internal attacks. With our combined strength, we can land a fatal blow against the heathen army and save this city.”[/color] 

After Gerard finished speaking, Misha again grabbed at his robes. [color=902EBD]“Master this is suicide! You’ve heard the reports! That man possesses godlike power! I won’t see you become a martyr!”[/color]

[color=F92D00]”DO AS I SAY!”[/color] Gerard shoved her so hard she nearly fell to the ground. [color=F92D00]”We have a duty to Echeran and this country to DESTROY the sea people!”[/color] He started restlessly pacing back and forth while breathing heavily. This was not the calm Gerard from before. It was like another man had taken over his body. 

[color=F92D00]”My first barrage may fail. If I enter into a pitched battle with their king, you must wait for an opening and hit him with everything you have. I will use the opportunity to end his life with all my power.”[/color] Gerard grabbed Misha’s shoulders and brought his face very close to hers. [color=F92D00]”Misha, I will need you most of all. Augment my movements. I cannot face Hrothgar in a battle of strength. I would not even consider striking against that monster without you two here to help. You have to believe me.”[/color] The apprentice girl recoiled slightly from her master, intimidated by his maddened demeanor. 

[color=1A7811]”Misha, we have little time to debate. If the Eskandr close in from the north and south, we will be able to reach the black king no longer.”[/color] Tristan said, attempting to convince his partner. Her eyes moved between the two of them fearfully, but after a few seconds of internal debate she seemed to relent.

 [color=902EBD]“Fine… fine. I’ll do it. Master, I only ask one thing of you. Please come back to us.”[/color] 
[i][color=F92D00]I can’t promise you that.[/color][/i] Gerard thought to himself as he nodded in agreement.

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[center][url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k8MtcDFX304]🎵[/url][/center]
Gerard was so dearly close to his prey now. As the bastard king and his dogs of war carved their way through the Parrench defensive line, the Rezaindian hunter stalked through the battlefield like a ghost. Nearly invisible to the naked eye and silent as a cat’s footfall, the only sign of his existence were the fast fading footsteps he left in the muddied sand. With dozens, if not hundreds of soldiers swarming the beach, even a seasoned mage would have difficulty detecting the presence of Gerard’s manas. It was the perfect backdrop for an assassination. 

Any lesser man would have recoiled in terror at the prospect of approaching the king of Eskand. It was like an archdemon had descended upon the earth. Any who were not consumed by darkness were torn to pieces by the beastly thralls surrounding Hrothgar the Black. The king himself appeared nigh invincible, striking with such force that his poleaxe didn’t even need to touch the Parrench soldiers for them to explode in a shower of gore. The sight made Gerard’s heart race with excitement. The more wickedness displayed by the heathen invaders, the more they vindicated his belief that they should be cremated alive. 

Then, Gerard felt a moment of clarity. The flow of battle slowed as the Queen’s forces viciously fought Hrothgar’s elite troops to a standstill. Gaps in Eskand’s shield walls formed as the outnumbered raiders reformed their ranks to hold off the increasing number of defenders. If he could slip through, Gerard would only have to confront Hrothgar himself and the remains of his honor guard. This was the best chance the warrior priest would get. 

With his speed enhanced by Misha’s remote Force magic, Gerard easily sprinted through the enemy line. He had to hop over corpses, dodge arrows, and sidestep flying bodies in order to get close enough to his target. With dogged persistence he chased Hrothgar, until finally he was upon him. The despot was close enough now that Gerard could hear him bark insults at the Queen’s soldiers, laughing at them in his disgusting, barbaric tongue. All it would take was one well placed spell to shut that mouth forever. Magic was not out of reach to him, even in the bitter cold of the wind and rain. From the warmth radiating off the bodies of a thousand warriors, to the residual heat trapped within the veins of the earth, there was energy aplenty for any mage with the sense to draw from it. 

But it seemed Gerard had grown overconfident in his camouflage. As he neared Hrothgar’s position and drew energy in preparation for his attack, the pagan king stopped shouting and scanned the battlefield with his bale eyes. When they fell directly upon the encroaching priest, his heart nearly stopped. The lord of Eskand had effortlessly seen through his disappearing act. But Gerard’s thirst for revenge was far stronger than any fear, and when Hrothgar began to point and shout, his own hand was already moving. He would give the king’s bodyguards no time to react.  

From his belt he retrieved a hard leather flask. Gerard pulled the cork out with his teeth and poured the contents into his mouth. Like a man hunting Froabass, he expelled a massive breath of fire that practically engulfed Hrothgar and his war beasts.
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That was… a nice fire, Hrothgar had to admit. Theatrical too. A certain part of him had always enjoyed the arts and theatre: a part of him that now found expression only in moments like today since he had taken the crown. Of course, the Eskandr king of kings was nowhere near the Red Rezaindian’s attack. The moment he had felt the man creeping up on his position, he had remained still and sent an illusion ahead: one visible only to a few grunt soldiers who he’d light-bent into looking like an honour guard and the Parrench fool who was now roasting them with an unsettling sort of glee. 

Hrothgar was already moving and, when he appeared, he was behind the man, eyes bugged out, howling like a beast, and raising his mighty flaming poleaxe overhead to deliver a deadly strike.

Gerard cut the flow of his spell when he heard Hrothgar’s war cry, but there was no way he was going to avoid this unseen assault. At least, that would be the case if he were fighting alone. He felt an invisible hand’s tug, and he was pulled away just before the king’s axe sundered the ground beneath them, sending several other men reeling. As Misha released her supportive spell, Gerard spun back around to face his foe.

[color=000000]“So, you have some friend help you, eh boy?”[/color] Hrothgar mocked in horrible Parrench. [color=000000]“Sure this are not your Gods!?”[/color]

[color=F92D00]“Do not speak of my deities lightly, you godless cretin.”[/color] Gerard replied in grammatically perfect Eskandish. The king could laugh all he wanted, but he had left himself open for an instant too long. This was the opportunity Gerard needed. He knew his apprentices wouldn’t miss this chance either. The priest pointed his staff at Hrothgar and began to funnel his drawn energy toward its crystal core. Men nearby would begin to feel a chill as the warmth was stolen from the very air around them. In order to buy the time needed for this deathblow, Tristan and Misha would slow him down with a combined effort of Essence and Force.

Little effort was required for Hrothgar to brush off their attacks. Their power was negligible next to what he could muster, but he was delayed for a couple of seconds, and that was all the time needed for Gerard to unleash the full extent of his arcane mastery. He pointed his staff at the lord of Eskand and let everything go. 

[color=F92D00]”WITNESS YOUR DOOM!”[/color] It was the grandest of arcane lances. It was a beam so focused that it could have torn an entire castle wall asunder. Only a spell of equal caliber would turn such a devastating attack aside. Gerard truly thought that he had Hrothgar’s head. Yet, fate was not written in stone, and the man he was facing was no ordinary wizard.

The king of kings threw his hands out to absorb the lance, realizing the danger almost immediately. This ‘rezaindian’ was impressive. The mighty arcane lance - spear of Eshiran-Zept - died in midair, its energy flaring, dimming, and being sucked into a vortex of nothingness as Hrothgar drew it away. So intense was the display that many flinched and hid their eyes. More than a few opportunistic kills were scored among the soldiery on both sides.

Yet, the lance grew nearer, its power not tapering off in the slightest and the Eskandr king could not draw it all fast enough. Capacity wasn’t the issue: it was sheer drawing speed. A final burst broke through and burned him, and a snarl of pain, like that of a wounded bear, could be heard. When people were done blinking, they could see a charred, blasted hand, smoking and steaming with crisped flesh. Hrothgar turned to Gerard, livid. [color=000000]“You think you hurt me, Re-Sane-Die-An.”[/color] His eyes practically glowed with energy and, as everybody watched, the damaged flesh reconstituted itself, healed in barely more than a second, as if harm had never been done to it. [color=000000]“My gods,”[/color] Hrothgar mocked, [color=000000]“strong than your gods.”[/color] An enormous, toothy grin split the lower half of his face. [color=000000]“Now, little red man, you die.”[/color] 

Gerard was too stunned for words. One of his most powerful spells, which had already taken the lives of over a hundred Eskandr, had been repelled single handedly merely by drawing. No counterspell, no attempt at avoidance, just drawing. What had started as a seemingly winnable fight now looked like a prolonged death sentence for Gerard. He could already feel a MASSIVE amount of energy welling up within the king’s body. Misha would be hopelessly outmatched if she tried to protect him now. Even if he himself tried to deflect it, he could tell that his magical capacity still paled in comparison to Hrothgar’s. 

Like a boon from the gods, a pale light bathed the local area. A magical flare, a signal from the Queen as she led her strongest warriors in a piercing charge through the Eskandr shield walls. Her Highness had the perfect read on the situation and had rushed to support Gerard just in time. He too saw the opportunity and ran with everything he had, feeling his legs effortlessly gliding across the ground as his apprentice bolstered his movements. Queen Eleanor’s potent defenses would surely prevail against Hrothgar’s onslaught. 

It was a fleeting hope. Hrothgar’s spells were too mighty, too fast. In the middle of Gerard’s mad dash for safety, the black king plucked him off the ground with an invisible fist. There was nothing his three and a half wheel subordinate could do. Gerard’s body ragdolled as he was launched towards the castle wall like a cannonball. There wasn’t even enough time for him to cry out. A loud thud could be heard as his body made impact, and his vision went dark. 

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Seconds ago, Eleanor had watched the world waver, and it made sense to her. She had seen her husband fall from the parapets, a lance through his chest, yet she still felt him as strongly and clearly as ever. This Eskandish monster - the man they bowed to as king - was an illusionist, and he had other illusionists to support him. Truly as clever as he was vile.

The Red Rezaindian who had taxed him so would be in need of her, and so she called on all of the Gift the Pentad had blessed her with and plowed through the enemy shield wall. Truly, she did not wish to harm any of these men and women. They had faces which held hopes and fears, anger, sadness, and laughter just like hers. They did not know the Gods and most would die here, never having known them. That pained her in a way that few would understand. Yet, they had come to harm her people, and the one who led them was a twisted thing. To him, she felt no compunctions about offering violence.

Yet, before the queen could do so much as meet his eyes, he had released a tremendous amount of energy and the priest hurtled for the castle walls. [color=f49ac2]
“Oraphe-Sept protect him!”[/color] Eleanor shouted, and she drew every bit of energy that she could from the human projectile, locking eyes with Horthgar and glaring. 

Gerard Castello hit the wall, and he hit with force, yet he did not leave a stain on it as the Dame de Saumarre had. He splashed into the water and she could still feel the spark of life within him. Reaching out with Force, she began to pull his limp form to the surface.

A colossal blow took her in the side and she bit back a scream as she felt ribs cave in. Yet, the Queen had drawn a copious amount of energy herself and this, she now used to heal those same ribs and stop her momentum. She landed on her feet, ripped five wheels worth of power from the lightning that came opportunistically for her, and shot it at the Eskandr king.

Hrothgar had not expected such a quick recovery. That the Queen of these people would fight on the front lines like a common soldier was foolish, but brave. She tore Sweyn’s lightning from the clouds and hurled it at him, great crackling bolt after bolt. The first, he hurled a rock in the way of, but the second was unstoppable. Diving out of the way with a burst of Force magic, he nonetheless felt the searing heat warp the very air around him. The third, he drew from. Yet, when he looked around, people were staring at him bemusedly. Others looked up to the parapets, and Hrothgar knew the Queen’s Gambit for what it was: her goal had been to disrupt his illusion. [color=f49ac2]“You are discovered, sorcerer,”[/color] she spat. [color=f49ac2]“We see you for what you are.”[/color]

A great, frosty laugh echoed from the Eskandr king’s mouth. [color=000000]“Impressive, witch, but you will wish you -”[/color]

From nowhere leapt a blazing lance of light and it took the towering black figure in the shoulder. With a howl, Hrtohgar dropped to one knee. The ground shook with a thunderous impact and there appeared Arcel, King of Parrence, rising from a crouch and very much alive. He stood in the storm, Sanguinaire incandescent in his left hand, steam hissing and rising off of it from the violent clash of heat and water. [color=00aeef]"Get your filthy hide off of Parrench soil, heathen. Your foul tricks are as nothing before the power of Shune's Light!"[/color] He pointed the legendary sword at Hrothgar, the air around him crackling with arcane energy, and advanced. [color=00aeef]"Fight me!"[/color] he bellowed.

Hrothgar stood and, as he did, the hole in his shoulder healed as if it had never been there. His glare fixed upon the young king and his lips formed a thin line. Wordlessly, he drew a dozen longships to splinters and stalked forward, the very fabric of reality seeming to roil and warp as he moved.

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[hider=Summary]Gerard receives news of Arcel's death and attempts to assassinate Hrothgar. After slaughtering a few worthless soldiers he is ambushed by the king, and the two engage in a short power struggle. Gerard does minor but impermanent damage and tries to flee. He is knocked unconscious by Hrothgar's force attack and thrown into the water, but his life is saved by the Queen who bravely charges through the Eskandr lines. The two royals clash briefly, and Hrothgar is forced to dispel his illusion. With the façade broken King Arcel is revealed to be alive, and he challenges the Eskandr king of kings to a duel.[/hider]