[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/q020OKO.png[/img][hr][b][color=0054a6]Event:[/color][/b] Defense of Relouse [b]|[/b] [b][color=0054a6]Location:[/color][/b] Behind Enemy Lines, Parrence.[/center][hr]
[center][youtube]https://youtu.be/7EY-bqG9-pQ[/youtube][/center]

The cold air brushes upon the man’s face, his eyes open to darkness. As he stares towards the heavens, the moons shine brightly, the gods looking down upon him as the haze of the starry sky becomes clearer.

[color=0054a6]Is this… the afterlife…?[/color], the sharpness of pain penetrates the numbness as he feels his awareness returning, his senses coming to life as the smell, sound, and feel of the wet earth below his fingers. He tries to move, very sluggish in his manner as he tries to right himself. His hands roaming upon his armour as he feels the puncture holes adorning it, however the flesh underneath is present, despite being scarred and raw. He looks around to see the battlefield almost absent of life, other than a few scavengers collecting the spoils of battle. The words he hears around are of Eskandr origin, as he tries to make out where the battle-lines are. He appears to be truly in enemy territory.

He looks at the bodies around him as he selects belongings to obscure his identity as he tries to blend in with the host of the Eskandr horde. Taking a helmet, a dark cloak, and some appropriate weapons. As he was about to take off, he noticed a familiar sight of what was once the beloved Arpegiar. Such a noble steed to have been butchered so brutally that it should have been a crime against Oraff. It seemed the animal took the vast majority of the arrows, dying almost suddenly as its eyes were still wide with alertness. He crouches down as he makes the sign of the pentad, the typical hourglass shape as he leans down to close those eyes, [color=0054a6]”Rest well, good friend.[/color].

Fortune has favoured Asier. Reshta, known as Vyshta to the Yasoi, is the embodiment of chaos. Taking with one hand and giving with another. In exchange for his life, it seems the path of fate has taken cruel turns. The one who reached him, before they were driven away, only had healed him enough to enact vengeance upon the Eskandr for their hubris. 

Asier skulks along the battlefield, moving low and moving quickly as he attempts to infiltrate the Eskandr supply lines. The cover of darkness provided opportunity as the lookouts were minimal, their fires almost unguarded as the Eskandr must be too busy revelling in their victories against the La Grande Armée of the Parrench.

After taking a moment to survey the surroundings, he starts to mentally plan out the camp before him and not appearing to find any obvious weaknesses, despite the minimal levels of patrolling along the south and the beached ships furthest away from the encampment. Only those moving and out of the camp were the scavengers seeking the spoils as they picked at the corpses like vultures.  He came across an oaf of an Eskandr who seems determined on removing a nobleman's cuirass without the knowledge of knowing how to unfasten it, despite somehow gathering a sack of ill-gotten gains. This was a ripe target as he silently moves up to the distracted man, unsheathing a dagger as he used the gift to apply the force along the edge, allowing it to move effortlessly as he silences the individual in a swift motion as the head slides off his neck with a squelch as it lands within his hands. He takes the bag of booty as he starts to heave it towards the encampment.

The trek was longer and more arboreous than expected. It seems whoever did patch him up was in a hurry, as some of the wounds were starting to reopen as he felt the warmth of his blood upon his skin, growing more sluggish. He approaches the Eskandr camp with his goods as the watchman looks on. He could overhear shouting in their guttural language as he draws closer. The watchman begins to grow tense due to lack of reply, but as the man got close, he could see the ill-fitting helmet, and beard hanging underneath, with the scavenger tapping upon the sack and giving him a roaring cheer, he allows him to pass, wondering just what he may have picked up was worth cheering about and how to get first dibs upon it.

With Asier within the camp, things got easier as he started to head towards the Eskandr sea-chariots. A horse for a horse he thought as he started to inspect the area. It seems these men were very lacklustre in their security provision, probably far too relaxed after what appears to be their victory, all the better to take advantage of. He climbs on board the nearest ship as he quietly inspects the cargo, checking out the caskets secured to the sides of the ships, filled with tar and pitch. Using his dagger and a persuasive amount of force, he opens the nailed down lid, dipping his finger inside to smell it and rubbing it between his fingers.  [color=0054a6]What did they intend to do with [i]this[/i]?[/color]

[center][youtube]https://youtu.be/kBjR7t_tg80[/youtube][/center]

He could see in the distance the Eskandr have been removing the pitch from the ships, there were caskets stacked up along the beach as they were being stored along it. It was then it began to dawn on him what they were plotting to do, they were going to raze Relouse to the ground. He glances along the ships as he tries to mentally calculate but fails due to the sheer scale. [color=0054a6]They are going to burn Parrence to the ground?[/color] The cruelty of these people shows no shame, as he doesn’t look this gift horse in the mouth. [color=0054a6]”You reap what you sow.”[/color]

Asier breathes in as he begins to draw upon the energies around him with the gift. The tides provide him with valuable force, the storms generating plenty of residual energy for him to take for his own. The Tourrare starts to overdraw, the concentrate of energy would shine like a beacon for those with the gift around him, but it is too late. For what is dead may never die. Asier picks up the caskets of pitch as he throws them, empowered with the force, upon the neighbouring ships, and tipping the last one over as it pours out at his feet, moving himself to stand upon the edge prepared. He concentrates the force of thunder at his fingertips, the lightning sparkling as he fires the currents towards the ships. The fumes of the tar are highly volatile as they ignite, the fire spreading quickly upon the wood, soon finding the caskets stored onboard those ships. The first signs of trouble would be the sudden light and engulfing of flame, only to be accompanied by a ferocious wind as Asier uses the force to control the air flow, sending out gusts towards the directions of the other ships. Fire, pitch, and flaming caskets raining down like brimstone along the shoreline, the ships docked in single file made them prime targets for his attack as the flames flicker up into wild fire as they start to spread unchecked. Horns are blazed as the horde of Eskandr are in uproar and panic, their access to the river blockaded by a wall of fire, fueled by what used to be their longships.

Asier spits out blood upon the sands before him, bowled over, crouching, as he suffers the consequences of his actions. The wounds on his sides are oozing with blood, as he feels the hot flame licking against his back. The Eskandr are arriving enmasse, they would instantly notice his shape against the backdrop of an inferno. The look of despair upon their faces made it known he did the right thing in the situation. [color=0054a6]“Nothing beats a good bonfire on a cold night after battle”[/color], his voice and chuckle drowned out by the sound of crackling timber as the ships collapse under the intensity of the flame. He used the last of his reserves to amplify his voice. [color=0054a6]”Are you not entertained? Isn’t this why you are here in Parrench lands? Is my gift to you not good enough?”[/color], his voice bellows across as the Eskandr are overwhelmed with their emotions, despair, anger, hatred, fear.

Asier grins widely as he sees his nemesis, the Nashorn yet again. The hulk of a beast starting to charge over in his direction. [color=0054a6]”Bet you regret not finishing the job now. A cat has nine lives.”[/color], he spat blood onto the floor before him again as it starts to fill his mouth, then he turned around stumbling, heading into the direction of the fires he created, finally deserving of the peace his final rest will deliver him.

Nashorn rampages through the Eskandr lines and debris as he quickly descends upon Asier. The Tourrare warrior seems to not to pay attention as the beast tears through the smouldering carnage that has been wrought upon his people. He grabs the man, smacking him hard against the head to cripple him in his tracks before he would kill himself. He starts to drag the man towards the main encampment to be judged by his overlord. There are crueller fates than dying.

Reshta has not yet finished with the Lion Knight.


[hr][hider=TL;DR Summary]
Asier finds himself partially healed and more importantly, alive on the battlefield.
Eskandr lines have advanced, putting him well within enemy terrority.
He skulks and lies low as he scouts out the enemy camp. The guards are light, with the Eskandr revelling in their victory in battle.
Asier murders a scavenger to take his ill-gotten gains, posing as a scavenger himself to access the Eskandr camp.
Asier uncovers a plot by the Eskandr to burn down Relouse and potentially other towns with tar and pitch. A ploy to remove Parrence from the map.
Asier turns the tables by taking advantage of this to set fire to the fleet, overdrawing upon the gift to delivering a devastating blow as wildlife spreads to the majority of the fleet.
Asier in his final moments as he approaches death again gets denied as the Nashorn takes him prisoner.
[/hider][hr][hr]