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year 5, quarter 3
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I'm Death, I come to take the soul Leave the body and leave it cold
Knowing which sense was being assaulted first would be a feat beyond what most could manage. Perhaps it was the smell. Even with eyes closed shut and tight, the smell haunted the mind as inescapable as the circumstances that produced them.The smell of urine and sweat mingled with the decay as the villagers and less devout monks fled the temple and the surrounding grounds as things had gone from bad to worse over the night’s events. As the temple loomed closer the smell of rot that had bubbled and boiled in the heat of day and unable to escape into a night with no wind lingered compounding on itself in these cycle for hours without end. A devil’s brew of feces, rotten eggs and cabbage, and an overdose of garlic mingled near the temple’s entrance causing even the most stalwart to pinch at their nostrils.
Perhaps it was the sounds. The inhale of something that was struggling to relearn how to breath: rattling, hoarse and ragged. The screams of people confronting flesh that they had turned into happy memories or the breaking of pots at seeing such a thing. The squelch of weapon meeting tender flesh and the immediate squirming of that flesh and bone sliding against metal as it came closer. The crunch and slurping as the owner of the metal succumbed to the thing it had tried to vanquish.
Then there was taste if the other senses had finally caused one’s mouth to either open into the infinite chorus of screams even as it tried to remain closed, or open muted in awe of the things around them. The air was dry and every breath tasted of dryness that no water could seem to quench. The air hummed with the metallic taste of blood most had learned after kissing a injury that bled onto their lips.
Death could be felt in the world around. The skin could be felt crawling, almost off the bone, at things once forgotten now returned. Even in the rank dank heat, a sickening cold seemed to press upon all that dared enter the Metaia region.
Still one couldn’t keep their eyes closed forever as they made their way to the temple. The ground had obvious crack from the tremors that had culminated in last night’s major earthquake. Drawing closer to the temple the depths the monks had gone to to make sure no more of them turned into what festered and contaminated the place grew stark and apparent. The recently dead hung from poles and makeshift pikes. Some bloated ready to burst; others had already done so and had begun to be ravished by birds of prey as well as those so unlucky to not have been hoisted. Those above the ground could not be contaminated by what soiled it beneath.
If not by the gods' decrees, you’ve been drawn here by the plea of the eldest monk of Metaia who stands waiting in the last of the dying light of the day. The temple had been crying out for so long, and the earthquake seemed to be the final toll of the death knell in their opinion. Still, hope remained. The monk had a vision of four who would appear, and thus she waited for her dreams to appear at the entrance not phased by the horror before her.
And that last time, hadn’t this place looked much more…inviting, much more hospitable? What had happened since then?
The stench of death hung heavy in the air—it was something she was familiar with, having been sent to the frontlines to heal and give care as a member of Class Seventh, and then eventually in an offensive capability as a member of Class Zero—but even then the stench of blood back in Orience was something she could tolerate. This, however, was something beyond her usual level of self-control.
Resisting the urge to collapse and throw up, she bravely made her way toward where a monk awaited their arrival—and while she had no idea that there would be three others coming with her, one of them would prove to be a familiar face, having worked with him previously.
No wonder they need someone who knows healing magic, this place is a disaster area… she thought grimly, averting her eyes from the sight of dead bodies staked up and not given the proper burial rites underneath the surface. The stench from the decomposing bodies, along with the general rot that hung in the area, would be more than enough to make fully-grown men retch or run away.
But she was here, and she had a reason to be here.
“It seems I’m the first to arrive,” she said softly, sparingly, in the monk’s direction—as the stench of the surroundings was really getting to her. But she held firm.
“I’ve failed... The crystal of wind has shattered, unleashing one of evil's most feared servants. Please, bringer of light, I beg of you to go where no light shines and vanquish the Lich before all the land rots.”
Leaving a note to Celes and Relm that he would be leaving on urgent business, Caius had taken Vordun and taken his leave in order to solve this business. It could be a trap, he knew... But he decided not to risk it. The leader of the Dragonblades mercenary unit had taken it upon himself to be ready at anytime to handle threats such as these to the world at large... And he'd heard talk of crystals before here. One crystal had been the center of something or other, but Caius hadn't been in the vicinity to check it out. This time, though... If there was something he could do, then he would do it. He and Vordun had saddled up on a chocobo and rode off into the plains ahead, prepared to do battle.
While Vordun was combat trained now, this would be the dragon's first major field test. Caius could admit he was worried, and didn't know if he should bring the still inexperienced dragon to a threat such as this. But he supposed that in order for Vordun to get stronger, they were going to have to learn to deal with threats big and small.
Yet he couldn't help but smile a bit, seeing the dragon that used to ride in his jacket pocket, now riding alongside him on the back of a chocobo. It was a testament to how far they had come, that Vordun now rode alongside him as an equal, in a sense.
When the two arrived, Caius let out a calm exhale. Though his nose would soon be assailed by the horrible stench of death, and he regretted it immediately. Vordun would gag nearby when the dragon touched down, and Caius looked toward him with calm assurance. "It smells like shit, I agree" Caius one-man bantered toward the overgrown lizard. "Literally. Probably."
Vordun seemed a little anxious at the sounds, though they'd been with Caius long enough to not be completely unaccustomed to these sorts of things. Caius would motion for Vordun to stay close when he noticed the visible signs of anxiety in the way their head darted to and fro, and the more careful padding along the surface. The temple looked as worn down as it smelled, Caius noted. Likely a result of the tremors he had heard of last night. The voice, and then the tremors... It was looking less and less like a coincidence to him. Caius looked about as they went deeper in, and he noticed the relatively fresh looking corpses, and this whole thing seemed to look even more likely. He didn't dare think it might not be a trap though. Caius was prepared for anything, in this case. Or at least anything he could prepare for.
Finally, it seemed, they found someone who was actually alive. Two, actually. Someone had spoken up and said they were the first to arrive, and Caius clapped a hand on the woman's shoulder from behind just as she did.
Gleams of light radiated on the horizon from the sun’s descent. Dusk had brought an orange hue to the sky, though it would quickly fade as night raced overhead. Very few clouds lingered overhead now, but that was bound to change as a storm brewed in the distance. Whether or not it would direct itself towards the troubled temple was still unknown.
Approaching the temple was the former Knight-Captain of Dalmasca. Vossler had caught whispers and rumors that the once holy site was now decrepit from an unknown corruption. Whatever the cause was, it seemed to have been released following the severe earthquake from the night prior. And even though he was fairly far from the location, minor tremors were still felt from distant areas.
However, Vossler didn’t necessarily have other obligations to tend to. He had not yet discovered why he was planted on this plane from Ivalice, and his encounter with Her Majesty did not yield any results either. Vossler was open to any theory that may explain his presence on Zephon and even considered the possibility that this temple in Metaia may point him in the right direction.
Upturned soil and large crevices had formed around the temple from the previous night. Bodies decorated the landscape, obvious cadavers from recent events. Vossler had seen similar sights, specifically in parts of the Nabreus Deadlands after Archadia’s bloodied expansion towards Dalmasca. Still, the smell of death was strong here, almost overwhelming to the Dalmascan. He was thankful that he only had a light meal earlier in the day.
As he advanced towards the entrance, other people eventually came into view. A man and his dragon, a smaller woman, and of course, the temple monk. None were people that he recognized, but that shouldn’t be an issue either way. His last encounter with someone he was familiar with did not end too well, therefore Vossler had the thought that it might be best if he worked with some fresh faces for a change.
“Cruel are the Fates and their humor; to bring us here under these circumstances.” The knight approached the others who conversed with the temple’s monk. “May I help bolster your ranks?”
Final Fantasy IX
27
YEARS
Agendered
Open
Pansexual
333 POSTS
Fin
Peace is but a shadow of death, desperate to forget its painful past.
This land was a place of pure rot. Offensive. Kuja had caught sight of it from above, but the distance did it no justice. With his dragon out scavenging somewhere less obtrusive, Kuja took it upon himself to search the ruined town, and it wasn’t long before he regretted it. Kuja eyed the outer defenses distastefully. The guards’ stations were abandoned now, but before they went, some idiot had thought to mount some of the corpses on pikes. They’d bloated in the wet heat, and low and behold, had burst with fluid and putrid entrails.
Whatever had wrought destruction here had taken days, not hours. It was a complete hack job.
The timing felt almost like fate. As soon as he’d discovered his true self, as soon as he’d languished and pitied and eventually grabbed the mage and thought to do away with it, he’d been overtaken with a vision -- or rather, a voice.
It staggered him, booming and rough and oh so familiar. He stumbled and clutched the edge of the sink in their rented desert room as violent red burst across his eyes. ’Now, the Lich awakens. Protect him as his powers grow, and you will receive great power.’ His mind was seized with a single image -- skeletal and blackened -- before he collapsed, gasping over cold porcelain.
Something had invaded his mind. His fingers curled, white-knuckled, around the counter’s edge. He knew the feeling well. Something sought to string him like a puppet. Something harsh and powerful and-
Demonic. An image flickered at the edge of his subconscious. Crimson horns curled like a bull’s. A jagged mouth bulging with carnivorous teeth. Black leather wings on reptilian scales. Kuja clutched at his forehead, nails digging sharp into hair damp with sweat. He refused to play anyone’s pawn, not now and not ever again. Whatever dared try would fall by his hand. Perhaps by the very power it promised.
From the other room, a piping voice made his jaw clench. He’d straightened before the mage could discover him, slipping into his mask even as his fingers trembled. The mage had heard something different -- a woman’s voice asking for protection. Kuja’s lips had pursed as he’d drifted towards the window, arms crossed. Whatever had happened, it was important. Important enough to gather the strong like pieces on a chess board. And it all had to do with that Lich.
The Terran Guardian of Earth? The connection felt tenuous at best, yet it was all he had when asked to ponder it all. He would see it for himself -- this Lich, this power, this puppeteer -- and he would decide then how to end it. If only the stage had proved less hideous.
Kuja scowled and quick-stepped around two lurching undead forms before continuing on his way. The town was teeming with them. Honestly, Kuja wondered what had taken them so long, though he supposed they lacked the intelligence to navigate catacombs by anything but blind luck. Unlike the undead wolves he’d fended off ages ago, these zombies were slow and lurching with gnashing teeth and clumsy steps. It seemed odd that they’d ever have posed a threat to anyone with working legs, but perhaps their numbers had merely dispersed with time. They’d likely swarmed here if the heaping mounds of half-eaten corpses had anything to say for it.
The toppled buildings he couldn’t explain. Old magic perhaps? Or a far fiercer monster than anything he’d seen so far. The structures were ruined and half standing with wooden beams splintered down the middle and discarded stone pulverized in ashy piles. He passed what appeared to have once been a library now caved in, the shelves standing through the rubble like creaking islands. Kuja felt a tinge of grief at the sight of books torn apart and scattered, but moved on without reservation. Whatever had happened here wasn’t his problem.
The smell hit him like a miasma as he approached the temple, and he had to stop to recover as he reached its thickest borders. The stench extended far past his senses, rolling in his stomach and mind. This was a rot never meant to meet flesh, and he covered his lips as he forced his composure, taking shallow breath through his mouth.
He’d braved far more dismal ruins than this. Whatever secrets he found inside would far outweigh the effort of composing himself. He took a deeper breath, swallowed back his nausea, and started forward again. He’d have to ignore it if he was to keep his mind sharp.
Four figures stood at the the temple’s entrance. Kuja muffled a scowl at the sight of them. He’d hoped for the chance to search this place on his own, but it seemed he hadn’t been the only one with that idea. A woman dressed in the temple’s garb stood facing them, oddly calm given the situation. The others were such an eclectic group that he could only assume they too came from other worlds.
“Cruel are the Fates and their humor; to bring us here under these circumstances.” The man in armor spoke as though from some medieval play, but that only endeared him to Kuja in its own way. At least he wasn’t an idiot.
”Fate or the hand of something far more insidious.” Kuja laughed under his breath, stopping a few feet away from the others as he touched his lip and considered the temple before them. ”Odd, isn’t it? That so many would gather with the same purpose at the same time?” He glanced to the armored man. His expression reminded him vaguely of Beatrix. Kuja’s lips twitched in a smirk.
”I suppose I’ll lend my aid as well. Far be it from me to deny fate itself.” Kuja wondered how he managed to keep a straight face. Practice, he supposed. He turned his attention towards the temple’s guardian. ”Well? You hardly seem surprised. What, pray tell, might you expect from us?”
I'm Death, I come to take the soul Leave the body and leave it cold
One by one they arrived at the temple's steps. The monk's face stayed cold and observant as the girl clad in a uniform arrived. She remained silent as a man appeared reaching for the girl's shoulder in recognition. If her heart had not been moved to stoney indifference already, the dragon would have had her flee from its sight or turn the man away. Her eyes moved to the knight that had come to bolster their ranks as he had said himself. Lastly, one who looked like they could have manifested from the pages of a child's storybook on the fae rounded out the quartet and was the first to ask the obvious questions that needed answering
"You've come," she said passing her eyes from one to the next in turn. "The story has been passed from high monk to high monk since the day the event took place," she started clasping her hands together as in prayer as she looked above them into bloody sunset. "Harmony and Discord. Two forces in constant battle in the universe and in the hearts of men. Centuries ago the forces of harmony brought forth warriors of the elements and the forces of discord brought forth the fiends. It was here that the Earth Warrior battled the Lich in the town known as Melmond. With the last of their strength, the Warrior was able to seal the Lich, but death cannot die. It's powers were just sealed by the crystal the Warrior poured their essence into.
"But the news of the crystal's shattering traveled fast from the World Sight. I did what I could, but my power and those of the monks were only delaying the inevitable. It waits below as it shakes off it's long slumber. A vision came to me of four figures come to the temple, and four have arrived." The monk opened her palm beckoning them closer with the other.Four gold pieces lie in her hand inscribed with a dead language. "These relics have been passed down as well. Although I can not say what purpose they'll serve, I was compelled to bequeath them to those who would arrive. I was not foretold of the beast's arrival, so it's survival will be up to you as I have no relic to give it. But come, as the night begins the Lich's power will only grow stronger. We must make haste." The monk began to lead them into the temple and into the darkness
"Those still among the living have managed to raise a defense for the time being. Once I let you through the door to the catacombs, we will make our leave and pray for your success. It is a straight shot down this hall, but then the labyrinth beneath will be your next challenge." she explained as they arrived at a glowing door surrounded by a gaggle of about fifteen monks all deep in prayer.
On the other side of the door, the garish noises of nails scratching at the wood could be heard and the blood seeped from crack as those fingers rubbed away into bone. The monk nodded at them as she quieted the monks and had them start to flee. The aura around the door faded and the wood began to splinter and crack. "May the gods be with you," she said as she too turned to flee and fist of a monk came through the door it's bones protruding from the messy flesh of it's knuckles.
[attr="class","rem4"]Notes: Protectga + Hastega active on entire party. Go ham, fam.
While she did believe that the Vermillion Bird Crystal did give visions to those it deemed worthy—well, back in her home world she was deemed worthy, at least for a short time. But that as then, so it was some strange fate she was still able to hear the voice that had called out to her and the three others—and she was about to let out a jump at the sudden action of Caius, the lone figure she was familiar with.
Who, by the way, was now accompanied by something that resembled a… a drake? A wyrm? It looked more like a friendly… dog, if she could call it a dog. Eventually their numbers filled out; the third to arrive spoke rather like one of the later students that eventually joined Class Zero, but for the life of her she’d forgotten the boy’s name! Well, she would remember that in time; eventually.
After their last companion arrived—and she had to do a slight double take, because how could one look so…so pretty, if that was a thing? The monk then turned to address them, and for a moment she marveled—she spoke a bit similar to Lady Caetuna, but not so archaic to the time it would take her a while to understand what was being said.
Seeing that the coins were being offered to them, she took one, rubbing her fingers against the surface and examining it for the briefest of moments, before pocketing it. Why these were being given to them she had no idea, but she figured—she’d better hang onto it.
As they were briefed on the situation, the miasmic stench became more powerful—and then without so much as a warning, all hell threatened to break loose.
What in the name of the Vermillion… she thought, recoiling slightly as she saw a bloodied… fist—it wasn’t a fist anymore, to be honest—break through.
Reaching for her daggers, she took a deep breath. Doing a quick headcount, if they did this right, she’d be able to harvest these undead beings’ phantoma—even if it would make her recoil at first.
“Don’t move,” she said, quickly reciting the words for the spell Protectga, and then following it up with a hastily-muttered Hastega spell a few moments later. She knew that Caius, at least, was familiar with the two spells she’d thrown over the entire party.
Post by Caius Dragelion on Apr 21, 2019 22:47:46 GMT -6
Suppose this world isn't so terra-ble.
@rem Kuja @vossler Word Count: OOC: No one expects the dragon inquisition. Dialogue Color: 196fd1 Party Sprites Credit
The figure had looked at him in a way that made Caius quirk a brow, but it was so slight and so subtle, so emotionless that Caius didn't pay it any further heed. He supposed it was still strange to people that he was walking around with a dog-sized lizard. Soon after, another figure would approach, likely also brought here by the voices. When he offered to join their ranks, he would nod his head calmly in response. Then another came. This one was... Odd. Was he man or woman? Was he human or demon? Most importantly, why did he seem like someone he knew, and why did Caius get the chills in this one's presence. It was the same sort of chills he had gotten around Ardyn, or Ultimecia, chills that kept him on his guard. Vordun appeared to sense it too, but rather than be subtle the small dragon would immediately bare his teeth and begin to growl at Kuja. Caius would move his hand calmly, and Vordun would stay his teeth, but still kept it's beady eye on Kuja. Caius had helped Vordun hone his instincts well, but Caius was a bit surprised at the dragon's reaction. Vordun was usually a fairly friendly dragon, he didn't usually growl at people. Only monsters.
Which only made him further suspicious of the figure.
Caius didn't give a damn what he had to say, if he was helping, he was helping. If he turned on them, well... Caius had no problem with killing him along with the other monster. But the priest had begun to speak, and his eyes darted toward her, his expression unchanging as he listened carefully. They talked about some kind of discord between Harmony and Chaos, two sides that enlisted warriors. It sounded like the story that Zidane had told him... Interesting.
The story of the lich was not one he was familiar with, though. Either way, it seemed that the seal on this monster was now broken, and it was ready to rampage once again. They would offer some sort of artifact to the group, though also noted that Vordun would not be able to have one as they were not prepared for him. "If these are potentially protective, then my peer will remain close to me in hopes of the both of us reaping the benefits" Caius spoke up with a calm tone, hiding his mild annoyance at Vordun being referred to as a "beast". Though he did emphasize the word "peer" to ensure that was known.
It seemed his original strategy for fighting this thing with Vordun would not do, then. He would need to re-strategize on the fly, and use his warping capabilities to fulfill dodging duties for the both of them if necessary. It also appeared they would be on their own - the survivors would be leaving them to their fate once they stepped down those halls. That was fine with him, Caius had come expecting to fight just with Vordun to begin with. Taking the coin, Caius would begin to start down the hall. He'd heard the noises coming from the other end, though they didn't phase him. He would stop proper though, when Rem would ask. Waiting for her to cast her spells, he would nod his head then as he would summon his gunblade.
"Vordun, to my side" Caius commanded calmly yet firmly as the dragon would take their spot right next to Caius, who would take a bit of string from his pack and tie the coin around his neck. After a few moments though, he would let out a sigh as he changed his mind. Leaning down, he would tie the coin to Vordun instead. If it had protective elements potentially... If they got separated, Vordun would need it more and Caius would prefer the lizard be protected more than he.
With the whole party finally present, the monk began her explanation of recent events. It came as no surprise to Vossler that a lich was responsible for this string of events. He had seen firsthand what necromantic powers were capable of. In fact, the similarities between this corruption and the dead at the Nabreus Deadlands only continued to increase. Perhaps that’s what was causing the surge of undead in his home realm. Unfortunately, he was not on Ivalice any longer. His problems were now here on Zephon, and this Lich was just another obstacle for him to overcome.
“It may be a formidable foe, but so are we.”
Vossler might not know much about his newfound allies, but their resolve spoke volumes about their character. Indeed, they were no ordinary citizens; to answer a calling such as this only proved to him that he would be fighting with reliable comrades at his side.
Like the others, the man collected the relic that was offered to him. There was little time for him to examine it, leaving him to only notice the odd shape and engravings that decorated the artifact. And to make sure that it would not get mixed up with his other items, Vossler cautiously placed it in a separate pouch.
Even though he had a strong belief in fate and destiny, Vossler we never really a man of religion. The room of praying monks made an already eerie setting even more creepy. And then there was the door. Before the monk was able to give her explanation, the Dalmascan knew that horrors awaited them on the other side. In fact, these horrors seemed so ecstatic to greet the new visitors that they were just dying to get through the door.
“I apologize for my prudence, but I presume that we all have experience with dispatching the risen?"
His question was quickly answered by the actions of the female party member. When the Protectga spell was applied, Vossler was overcome with the familiar sensation of invulnerability provided by protection spells. In addition to Protectga, Hastega was casted onto the group, making his heart pump much more aggressively. The Dalmascan was as prepared as he would ever be and was ready to take on the army of the dead.
Final Fantasy IX
27
YEARS
Agendered
Open
Pansexual
333 POSTS
Fin
Peace is but a shadow of death, desperate to forget its painful past.
Don't take it personally. Kuja holds everyone with disdain.
Why should the world exist without me?
One of his new begrudging allies had a dragon. Kuja blinked at it, tilting his head in interest. It was young -- still hardly the size of a mastiff -- with beady eyes and a thick plating of scales. Kuja couldn’t identify its species at a glance, but he supposed it was useless to try to pin it down to any on Gaia. It turned to him in particular, hackles raised and lips drawn. Kuja’s eyes flicked to the man beside it, a rather rough and unassuming man at that. His expression matched the dragon’s, and Kuja sighed. This man had clearly had little to no experience with them before.
”Just a word of advice, dragons are notoriously territorial.” Kuja glanced to it again before tilting his head and looking to the sky without interest. ”It must smell mine. I left her safely outside the city as she wouldn’t do well confined to small spaces. Dragons never do.” Perhaps he would notice the insinuation, perhaps he wouldn’t. If he didn’t know as much then he’d likely either lose the creature or lose his life in time. Dragon taming was not something to be taken lightly.
The monk spoke of legends and stories and the kind of thing Kuja knew to be mere myth until it wasn’t. He paused only when she mentioned the two battling forces -- Harmony and Discord. It drudged unfortunate connotations from the back of his subconscious. Hadn’t that been what the storybook knight had been blathering about? His tail prickled with unease from behind its shroud. The battle of discord and harmony. If it wasn’t myth then it was obvious on which side he stood.
And then there was the Lich. He crossed his arms, incredulous at the mention of it. That was what he found the most doubtful no matter what his vision had shown him. He knew Lich. He’d spoken with Lich on forced occasion, and while the guardian wasn’t much for conversation, it wasn’t much for directing the course of mortals either. It did its job. It lurked in its dark, earthen shrine, and it kept very much out of his way. Perhaps this was a different iteration, but he doubted it. He’d yet to meet a single familiar face that came from an alternate dimension. In all likelihood it would be nothing but a misnamed monstrosity destined only for disappointment and anticlimax.
He only really perked with interest as she pulled four relics from her robes. The coins were tarnished, browned, and absent of any known magic. He took his carefully and turned it over in his hand. The edges were inscribed with a peculiar language he couldn’t identify -- lost most likely. If he’d had the time, he’d have liked to study it, break it down for its components, attempt to decipher the writings long dead. Perhaps he’d find more text within the temple’s depths that he could cross-reference. For now, he merely magicked it away for safekeeping. If nothing else, he would leave with a promising curiosity.
The monk hurried them off without further fanfare, leading them through the cool, dry night with ease. The halls were drenched in shadow and smelled of dead air. He’d seen these studies abuzz with scholars and priests not long ago, but they were long dead now if the rot told him anything. It was almost a shame. He’d appreciated the chance at halfway intelligent conversation even if every word they’d spoke was wrong.
She brought them to a dour room lit with candles and choked with incense. Kuja wrinkled his nose, eyeing the circle of chanting monks that surrounded them. A faint magic pulsed from the words but he couldn’t tell if it actually did anything. From beyond the next door came the telltale moans and scratching of the undead. The full effect felt like something out of a ritual sacrifice.
Kuja had only just taken in his surroundings when the monk nodded towards them and wished them luck. Kuja blinked in surprise. ”Pardon?” he asked, but it seemed to be some kind of cue. All the monks immediately stopped their chanting and rose as one, filing out the door. His eyes sharpened. ”You’d rather we not strategize then? Do you want us to succeed or-?”
A rotting fist thrust itself through the door, showering wooden splinters in its wake. Kuja let out an exasperated breath through his teeth and back-stepped away from it. It seemed the idiots wanted nothing more than to toss them into the fire.
The girl in the cape moved first, asking that they stay in place as the cast her spells. In moments, Kuja felt the familiar wave of protective and quickening magic wash over him, and he couldn’t help a smirk of mild respect. At least someone here was capable of a decent thought.
The unqualified dragon tamer acted next, calling said dragon to his side. A reckless move in Kuja’s opinion, but he supposed he didn’t have time to argue. They hadn't had time to discuss each other's strengths.
The armored one asked for experience, and Kuja shot him a dry smile. ”Does it really matter?” The dead were coming whether they were ready or not. If only they’d had time to ask these questions earlier.
Kuja steadied his stand and brought magic to his hand, readying it at his chest. He’d rather have avoided bloodying his hands altogether or at least sent someone in his stead, but he supposed it couldn’t be avoided. He’d find the source of this power himself and use it to destroy whatever had the audacity to command him. His eyes narrowed.
”It’s better to take the initiative than allow them to attack on their own terms.” He smirked dryly before muttering an incantation and thrusting his hand down. ”Flare.”
The air crackled with his magic, and it released from him in a burst of force. The door shattered into a rain of half-disintegrated splinters showering them in an implosion of orange-red light. Even backed against the wall, the shockwave was nearly enough to stagger him, and would surely do far worse to whatever had pressed itself so close to the barrier that had once stood between them.
He readied his hand again, backing into the open doorway behind him. Whatever remained of their numbers would swarm through the manmade bottleneck he’d created. He hoped that his allies proved more useful than they were intelligent.
