2018-07-06: A Bad Decision

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<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.

    EARLIER

    "...Well, I'll tell you what. I don't talk to them that don't drink with me. So go on, have a drink or three, maybe I'll feel more talkative-like then!"

    "Who wouldn't drink with you?" Lily answers for Loren as she approaches the table, all in black and gray, propping her staff against her seat as she claims it. "My friend here's just a little stiff, is all. Medical school doesn't do much for your social life."

    NOT QUITE AS EARLY BUT STILL EARLIER

    "From what I hear 'bout Vane, they could use a little defense trainin', way they're goin'," comments Belas, setting his own mug down. "So. Now that we've got that little unfortunate bit outta the way... how 'bout you both tell me what the Church wants from me? Don't tell me this's just a friendly-like house call."

    Already, at a gesture, people begin to rise from nearby tables.

    "Since I'm pretty sure neither o' you want this to get more unfortunate. Eh?"

    MORE RECENTLY

    "Damned. Primitive-minded. IDIOTS!" Loren just about roars.

    "Do you have any idea of who you're messing with here?!"

    "See... You're wrong about one more thing," Lily says, and sets a hand on the table.

    "I'd love for this to get more unfortunate. Voss."

    Loren will find his hands nudged from the table before he probably realizesw what's happened. Suddenly Lily's rising and the table is coming with her, the whole thing lifted and shoved straight for Belas in one go, her staff snatched up with her other hand as she moves.

    "C'mon, Voss, show me what you've got!"

    TEN MINUTES LATER

    To say there is a disturbance in this part of the port would be an understatement. Anyone on the more innocent end of the spectrum (for an alcohol-serving tavern, in a not-so-nice part of the port) has long since fled the scene, and the commotion unfolding even out in the street outside the building is considerable.

    This is partially because of the smoke starting to billow out from the inside.

    Which is happening because -- as a glance inside will reveal -- part of the tavern is, yes, on fire.

    TWO MINUTES AGO

    Loren ducks in close towards one of Belas' people and earth ether shimmering into being around his left hand, delivers a possibly entirely unexpected and possibly overpowered blow to the man's midsection. This naturally knocks him back, which is the point the other man stumbles into a table, which knocks the table over, which sends the candles atop the table to the floor, where they light a trail of spilled liquor, which...

    RIGHT NOW

    Even if a section of the tavern wasn't on fire (and wasn't increasingly becoming more on fire by the second) it would be a disaster area. Toppled and broken furniture litters the floor, as do a number of the unconscious forms of Belas' crew. Glass glitters in the firelight, the smoke from which is quickly threatening to be perhaps a bigger concern than the fire itself.

    And in spite of all this and all reasonable consideration for safety otherwise--

    --people are still having an Althena-damned fight in here.

<Pose Tracker> White Knight Leo has posed.

    FIVE MIUTES AGO

    Not terribly far from the dodgy tavern, a man in very posh robes stands on a dockside, next to ten barrels that smelled of aged oak several decades ago. Now, they smell like cheap liquor--which is probably the reason why the man, and the barrels, are surrounded by a small cordon of Guards. Leo has had his hands more than full thanks to the situation at Lastonbell, but several of his people finally pulled caught out the leader of a not-inconsiderable rumrunning operation. If you could even call the stuff in the barrels 'rum'.

    "Now, witness the fruits of your folly," says White Knight Leo, as he strides purposefully towards the merchant-turned-smuggler-lord.

    "Lord Leo--!" The merchant takes a step forwards, trembling like a leaf. Sweat beads on his face, running in rivulets down his collar and cravat. Leo remains unmoved, stone-faced. He raises his blade--

    And in a single, elegant swing, he brings it down upon the line of barrels. The very air seems to carry an edge, imparted to it by the strike; the entire row of barrels bursts open, spilling awful grain alcohol into the bay. The merchant whimpers. "The Church will make good use of the tithe that is your ill-gotten gains," Leo says, smiling proudly. In the background, someone starts clapping.

    TWO MINUTES AGO

    "...Do you smell smoke?" Leo says, to one of the Guards.

    RIGHT NOW

    Spikes of earth erupt from the ground, tearing a roughly human-sized hole in a flaming exterior wall. They are not Loren's. A figure steps through the opening, one sleeve pressed against his mouth and nose to keep from breathing in smoke. Leo casts his eyes around the smoking building, searching for people to rescue, and finds only--

    "You," Leo says, as he catches sight of Lily. His eyes go wide in alarm.

<Pose Tracker> Corwynt has posed.

The fight has been going on for several minutes, which in most of Filgaia would be the end of the warmup; by this time in Adlehyde, for example, the real bar fight professionals who had been drinking in other establishments would have arrived to really kick things off. In November City, there would be more than one building on fire. But the world of Lunar is different from the lawless desolation of the Silver Star; it is a holy garden sheltered by the hand of the goddess herself... with the assistance of a few gardeners of no small ability.

As Leo bursts through the wall, a small man steps calmly through the hole, moving in his commander's shadow. Lily Keil has seen the man before, and he her - though the Ether user will have never before seen him blazing with quite this much of the Blessing of Althena, his eyes blazing green, breath misting in the air with the shards of emerald fireflies.

"It'll take a few minutes," Corwynt reports to Leo, calmly, his gaze shifting to the roof... and up through the building, into the great winds upon the roof of the world, from which a circle of darkening cloud begins to slowly twine down toward the earth below.

<Pose Tracker> Lily Keil has posed.

ONE MINUTE AGO

Lily drives her fist into the stomach of one of Belas's people, blood already on her glove from where she's broken a couple noses. Unfortunately Belas takes exception to this, grabs her by the arm, and hurls her through a table against a nearby wall.

NOW

Lily is still smouldering as she swings a chair at another fellow, shattering the wooden piece of furniture against his back and dropping him right down for the count. Unlike Loren, she hasn't been displaying much magic yet, though she holds a staff that she grabs back up in an instant and trips up another guy with. She's...

Well, she's obviously been on fire, she's still smouldering, there are holes in her gloves and sleeves revealing a strange blue glow beneath, and her eyes are actively alight in gold. Well, one is; the other is swollen shut because she's got a black eye. ...She appears to be having fun.

But the spikes prompt up and Lily glances to the side towards Leo--and a wide grin spreads across her face. "White Knight!" she calls. "I hear this guy's a fugitive!"

She drops her staff, adopts a boxing stance, and starts throwing bare-handed jabs at Belas, a huge man who refuses to go down.

She sees Corwynt out of the corner of her eyes a moment later, and she can feel his aura just as surely as Leo and Corwynt can likely feel the Ether rolling off of her even without any obvious spellcasting.

She glances to Loren, who...

<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.

    It's not a good idea to hang around in a burning building. Technically speaking, this is a basic sort of fact, the kind of thing that would have long since prompted the generally practically-minded Solarian medic to get the hell out of here.

    Unfortunately, Loren is both probably some degree* of intoxicated and has officially had Enough of the way his life has been going.
    So, you know, making all kinds of bad decisions up in this place right now.

    (*and for the record that amounts to about a mug and a half nearly of a rather bad local brew. Loren is not a drinker.)

    He's also not been in a bar fight before -- or at least never hung around long enough to get his hands dirty in one -- despite his time in the badlands of Filgaia.
    This means that all those self-defense courses and bruises and yes, even counting the fights he's been in, he's still never been in a proper barroom brawl.
    So it's safe to say that he did not expect that chairleg to the back of the head, the one that sends him sprawling across the tavern's floor. When he staggers to his feet, his hand comes away from the back of his head bloodied.

    This is when the wall blows open in a surge of earthen force that Loren certainly didn't summon himself.
    He's a little occupied at present, after all. Between the surge of fractaling green -- and prominently so -- ether energy that blossoms around him in wound-mending force.

    "Know your place!"

    And the cascade of earthen ether-born spires that erupt from beneath the floorboards to work to pin the man who'd struck him to a nearby wall. There's a certain exhiliration with just... letting go.

    It's only then that the medic turns to face the two recent entrees into the tavern melee.
    Both, he recognizes, from past expeditions. But in his current state, well...

    Belas, meanwhile, lives up to his mountainous physique: Lily's barehanded blows strike firm but he refuses to fall. His gaze hoods; he takes in the new arrivals with a sidelong glance. "Heh. Knew you'n he were their dogs. Unfortunately for you--" He lunges forward with startling speed, seeking to seize a wrist.

<Pose Tracker> White Knight Leo has posed.

    "Noted," Leo says. He can already feel the change in pressure around them--his ears pop, and the smoke begins to thin. "Lily Keil." Leo steps around the flaming remains of the bar, glancing at shattered bottles with visible distaste. "Whatever happened, I'm certain you have a good expl--"

    'Know your place!'

    That man is a Filgaian. Leo does not remember his name, but does remember his face--even if he didn't remember him using magic or Lily glowing in a most unnerving manner. And then there is the small matter of the tough Lily is struggling with. "YOU'RE ALL UNDER ARREST," Leo bellows. He slams a bootheel into the floor, and the earth responds--pillars of rock shoot up from the ground, blocking off several avenues of escape while Leo rushes in between the combatants and the final way out. "SURRENDER AND COME PEACEFULLY!" Leo coughs a little, but it doesn't do much to dull the impression of someone who is absolutely going to stop this nonsense here and now.

    The White Knight draws his blade, just in case anyone still doubts his resolve.

<Pose Tracker> Corwynt has posed.

The channeling of Ether is a reeking, putrescent screech of nails across the blackboard of Corwynt Marikson's soul; the little man doesn't bother to hide his grimace, but he continues to hang back, letting his commander take the lead, as is his duty as the second to one of the Four Heroes of Althena.

Also, he's a bit busy doing something else.

The winds outside the tavern begin to pick up, setting leaded-glass windows clattering in their frames. To those inside the tavern, they will begin to sense a faint tension along their eardrums that the Solarians will recognize as a disruption in local air pressure. To those outside, however, they will see a writhing serpent of wind - or, in terms a Filgaian would recognize, a twister - snaking down toward the blazing tavern, its mouth opening wide as though trying to surround it. The descent begins to slow as the wall starts to drop down, with Corwynt focusing on keeping the storm tightly controlled, hoping to encircle the area with a wall of wind, with the tavern itself in the relative calm of the eye.

This is why he isn't punching anyone at the moment, which either or both of Lily and Loren may recognize as extremely uncharacteristic behaviour.

<Pose Tracker> Lily Keil has posed.

Lily Keil, of course, is definitely drunk. There's a slight sway to her movements though she's keeping it controlled, a glassy quality to get glowing eye. But not enough to stop her speaking coherently, acting coherently. And hearing--

"You've really never been in a barfight," she comments to Loren, almost idly as she slams an elbow back towards a man approaching her from behind. And as the others appear--

"Might not be a good explanation," Lily retorts to Leo, and then she's abrubtly not speaking to him because the big man has grabbed her wrist outright. "You don't want to--" Ccccrack. The angle, the sheer strength of Belas's grip, results in an awful snapping noise as Lily lets out a low growl. "...Heh. If that's how you want it."

Lily's arm bursts into flames outright, the smell of burning flesh and cloth turning to ash filling the area quickly. At the same time, she swings out her hand and places all five fingers on his chest.

The Ether in the air feels much darker for a moment as she grips his blood with gravitic magic and pulls. It won't be lethal. ...But it will, if he can't shake it off immediately, be debilitatingly agonizing.

"Heh."

<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.

    "Shut up, Keil!"

    It'll have to do for now.

    Ether still writhes in Loren's metaphysical grasp, the earthen spires around him trembling as he seemingly draws upon a blade of stone itself. It's directed for the man still pinned to the wall, and only one thing spares that poor soul a retaliation:

    "YOU'RE ALL UNDER ARREST!"

    This is the point where Loren turns to face the White Knight himself. His chin lifts, he squares his shoulders, stands (more or less, he's drunk) at his full (strictly average) height.
    His gaze is a little glassy. Unfocused. This is a man who is inebriated.

    And this is also the point where Loren gets incredibly talkative.
    In, and this is important, Solarian. Slightly slurred and definitely ranting Solarian, but very probably intensely unintelligible to everyone here.

    "You unwashed uncivilized dogs! 'Surrender'? 'Come peacefully'? I've had it up to here with this relentless idiocy you continue to put on display and call a society! If it weren't for the fact that we've been stranded here for months with no contact with Command and no hope of returning, we would have rendered this sorry excuse of a world to ash! May the Emperor have mercy upon you because I certainly won't!"

    Pillars erupt from the ground. Loren is vaguely aware of a shift in air pressure, but, and this bears repeating, he's pretty intoxicated right now. That, and Leo's presence here before him and the obvious challenge -- coupled with his rather violent mood at the moment -- present a more pressing threat.

    "Is that the sum of your abilities?" He slips, again, into that strange language: "Untrained fool!"
    He barely takes a breath, attempting to slip his awareness into and thus manipulate the rock pillars to his own ends, turning the force outwards in a wall of stoney blades.

    Belas, meanwhile, grabs Lily's arm, a smirk of satisfaction answering the obvious 'crack' from her arm as he moves to haul her in close to him. As a hostage, perhaps? Maybe that had been his goal at the time.

    But he'll find out he's hauled in a shark rather than the fish he'd been hoping to catch.
    She bursts into flame. It's shock that colors the huge man's face first, then horror, as he realizes he's also burning. He lets go of her as someone might release a hot coal. He takes a step back.
    Her hand -- the good hand -- slams into his chest. "Mercy--" is the last thing he croaks out, before the pain takes him and chews him up. When he staggers away, it's to ultimately slump against the bar proper, a hand pressed to his chest as he wheezes.

<Pose Tracker> White Knight Leo has posed.

    Lily does not surrender. The tough-looking man does not surrender. Leo was half-expecting that, even as it disappoints him; some people just don't know when they're outclassed, and Lily has shown a shocking disregard for life and livelihoods in general. Then Loren opens his mouth, and makes everything so much worse.

    Leo's ears flatten outwards. His eyes narrow. His lips pull back, revealing all four canines. "You had your chance, heathen!" Leo snarls. He takes two steps forwards before something odd prickles across his awareness--blades erupt from the ring of pillars he erected to stop the perpetrators from fleeing. One of them clips his side, cutting through his cape and drawing a bloom of crimson against the white of his uniform coat.

    Loren will find out that no, that is not the sum of Leo's abilities. The big Beastman rushes him with all the subtlety and speed of an unexpected avalanche. He draws his sword up with both hands, and brings it down at Loren's temple, twists, turns to Lily just in time to see her setting herself on fire(?!) and doing something clearly agonizing to the man who accosted her. "Corwynt!" Leo barks. "Get the suspect!" That would be Belas, whose day will likely continue to be terrible. Leo twists his foot, whispers an incantation, and the floor beneath Lily starts to pitch and rock erratically. Given she's already drunk, this might do bad things for her footing.

<Pose Tracker> Corwynt has posed.

Corwynt continues to not fight anybody, which continues to be a very good thing for him. The months he spent on Filgaia, where the grace of Althena was choked out by the corruption of a dying world, kept him from doing anything particularly astonishing with his gifts. There, the Blessing was but the faintest whisper of sweetness in a corpse's last gasps. But here, in the heart of the world that is clasped to Althena's sheltering embrace, he stands at the height of his power.

And in this moment, he demonstrates why he has earned his nickname.

The air pressure continues to mount as the wall slowly descends into place; Corwynt staggers faintly against the bar, using it to prop himself up as he recovers from the first part of the ordeal. Sweat pours down the little man's face as he judges the speed of the winds outside, which are whipping around with enough force to shift small boxes stacked outside. Good enough, he reasons, then lets go of the power he's putting into the storm, letting its own momentum sustain it... at least, for long enough to do what needs to be done.

Corwynt looks to where Leo is battling Loren, and then to his left, where Belas has slumped beside him. "As you wish," he answers his commander, placing a hand on Belas's shoulder, as if to study the man. In reality, however, Corwynt inhales sharply, calling on the Blessing of his Goddess in an attempt to suck the very air out of Belas's lungs, to drop him unconscious. In fact, Lily may sense tendrils of a similar make wafting out in her general direction.

In fact, she may notice those same tendrils slipping out toward everyone in the room, Corwynt judging that the fastest way to stop this nonsense is to deprive both fighters and fire of the one thing they need most.

<Pose Tracker> Lily Keil has posed.

"Snippy, Voss," Lily outright taunts Loren back. And then she sees him planning to actually kill the dude outright and lifts an eyebrow at him. It doesn't last long, of course. She's busy. She's a little drunk, and after all, she's dealing with Belas--but Loren's rant, for all that she doesn't understand it in the least, is certainly not lost on her.

The air pressure pops her ears quickly, and Lily knows the feeling well from time spent in Kislevi mountain ranges. ...She also knows well that Loren is taunting and it'd be nice if she had the chance to react to it better. However...

Lily does end up closer to Belas. Unfortunately for him, he indeed didn't know what he was dealing with; the smell of burning flesh, to look once he lets go, clearly includes her own, and it doesn't slow her down in the least. He croaks out 'Mercy' and she looks down at him as he slumps.

"...That was mercy," she says to him, turning up her nose at the giant of a man. ...This is the point at which the ground beneath her rocks, and instinctively she puts out her hand to steady herself--

Bone grinds against bone and Lily jerks back her arm on reflex, slipping and hitting the bar hard as she falls to the ground, her staff clattering near her. She doesn't pick up the weapon. Instead--

Tendrils snake towards Lily and she lifts her free hand, the air rippling and a brief thundering crash obvious as she simply unmakes the air between Corwynt's magic and hers.

"Really not necessary," she answers, looking with a lopsided, cruel smirk at Corwynt and then at Loren. She's... at least not actively on fire anymore. But her good hand is curled into a fist--strange lines glowing violet down her fingers like circuits.

<Pose Tracker> Corwynt has posed.

Corwynt is a patient man. He was content to handle the business of running the Guard on Filgaia while Leo led the search for the Destroyer, despite the many setbacks - he knew, as only a person of true faith can, that they would be successful when their goddess willed it, and not a moment before. He is not, however, a tolerant man, and Lily Keil (who is already on thin ice with him for her manipulation of powers that feel, in their own way, to be a violation of the natural order on par with those manifested by the Lord of Calamity herself) has pressed a very large, very red button.

She has unmade the air that is Corwynt's link to the Blessing of Althena.

The little man's face shifts into a mask of rage, and he slides forward with languid speed, drawing acceleration from the winds themselves, using the divine essence within to empower his mortal flesh. Flowing lines of green-white light envelop Corwynt's right arm and hand, an eerie mirror of those flowing around Lily's limbs. The little man drives the punch forward without hesitation or mercy, forgetting technique and control alike in his fury. It's a telephone punch rather than a martial arts strike, but it still delivered with everything the Storm Fist can muster.

"You dare?" he asks, hate spitting from eyes, lips white-tight around bared teeth. "YOU DARE?"

<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.

    Some things, no matter what language they're in, carry their intent if not their specific meaning. This definitely counts as one of those things.

    Loren has not particularly enjoyed his time in Lunar. Between being displaced from his people with no certain way of getting back, between reminders of things he'd rather leave in the past, between getting defeated by a Lamb, caught in a city siege, and getting run through by some nightmare swordsman, he's had it. Getting told by some mutant in armor that he's under arrest is, in his current state, the last straw.

    "Fair words from a dog!" Loren snaps back, lunging for the knight with apparently empty hands.

    Even under more ideal conditions for Loren, Leo would have had the upper hand.
    Loren, currently intoxicated and not particularly in top form -- whatever strange advantages might be granted to him by birth in his society -- he more accurately stumbles left rather than dodges, and this is the point where the pommel of Leo's sword slams into the side of his head. A cut-off, wordless shout slips from him as he drops, landing in a hard sprawl at the knight's feet.

    He lies there for a moment or three, limp but breathing.
    But strictly speaking, he's had worse. He's walked off worse. And right now, perhaps it's a mixture of raw frustration, anger, and stubborness that sees him rising to his feet again, rock sheathing his right arm in a sudden self-directed focus of his particular talents as he seeks to strike back at Leo in spite of everything.

    "That's it! I've had enough!" he roars in Solarian.

    In his current state, Belas has but time to stare up at Lily where he leans against the bar, looking as if he's only barely hanging on to consciousness.
    And then, once the breath is pulled from him -- it doesn't take much in his condition -- he simply slumps backwards. Lights out, for now.
    Anyone else in here who hasn't seen the writing on the wall or isn't already unconscious similarly succumbs to it. The flames die down, before snuffing out entirely. There's only ash, soot, and smoke to lay claim to the fact that there was ever a fire here to begin with.

    And it's this same loss of air that is about to prove a problem for Loren. White light blazes around him in a sudden shell-like burn of earthen ether in reaction to his thieved breath and the realization of it, but even this can't solve the problem for long.

    Particularly not when he's so accustomed to taking a breath -- like so -- to focus himself, even in his current state. The clock's ticking.

<Pose Tracker> White Knight Leo has posed.

    Belas goes down. Leo doesn't look too closely at Corwynt, as he is dealing with the most openly aggressive of the three ruffians. He allows himself a small, satisfied smile as Loren takes a pommel to the temple and collapses. He glances over at where Corwynt and Lily are engaging one another, recognizing the telltale flare of the Storm Fist's anger--but then Loren rises to his feet, his fist sheathed in rock, and swings. Leo twists to the side with practiced ease, but the combination of bizarre, alien magic and Loren's untold years of pent-up rage count for something, regardless. Loren's fist glances off Leo's gut, the impact sending spikes of pain through the White Knight's side. Loren screams something in his bizarre heathen tongue and casts another spell. Leo might not be a sorcerer, but it doesn't take much to figure out that he's got some sort of barrier.

    "Assaulting one of Althena's Chosen," Leo snarls, his voice taking on a dangerous edge. He takes a half-step back, and then surges forwards at Loren in another one of those zero-to-sixty rushing attacks. "DEMON FANG!" Leo roars. He sweeps his blade through a wide arc, a crescent of energy rushing right at Loren's shield.

<Pose Tracker> Lily Keil has posed.

For once, Lily Keil thought she was being very peaceable. She just wasn't interested in dropping unconscious. ...And unfortunately it's true that much of her power radiates menace, horror, and destruction. So it is that she feels the anger in the air before she sees it in his face, and looks towards the man accelerating towards her with clear surprise.

She's probably taller, but she's also on the ground; he sets aside technique and control, and she sees it coming hard. "Hold on--"

She throws up her arm to deflect it, ice riming her limb and becoming a great barrier all its own--which cracks under the sheer force of his punch, prompting a growl of pain as her broken arm takes that much more punishment and bashes her right in the face on the rebound.

Her gold eye sparks in anger, the glow returning and intensifying; where his hands start to gleam like hers, Lily--lip now split and bleeding--throws out her hand in return, sending a wave of concussive, gravitic force right for his chest with a flare of violet power.

"I dare what, you strange little man?"

<Pose Tracker> Corwynt has posed.

Corwynt, in truth, was not expecting Lily to bounce back from that punch - she looked weary and bruised before the attack was launched, and he felt it connect, solidly. More of her heathen sorceries, he judges, pivoting to try to follow the punch up with a spinning, backward kick from the hip.

Fast though the Storm Fist may be, he is not faster than thought, and it is the work of a moment for Lily to channel more of that accursed power. The kick never lands; Lily's concussive blast connects with Corwynt in the small of his back, propelling the little man away from her. The Guardsman tries to call the winds to help him turn his body around, roll with the punch and land on his feet, but here his earlier efforts work against him, as the air within is growing too thin and weak to be much help.

As a result, Corwynt hits the back wall with enough force to crack the wooden planking; a bark of pain escapes his lips as he bounces off and lands atop a table. For a moment, the little man blinks rapidly, trying to clear the stars from his eyes. But instinct provides a simple solution; he channels his power into the Rememberizer, drawing on its perfect recall to revisualize the last several seconds with utter precision.

As well as every moment of joy, heartbreak and suffering in a long and painful life. But such is the price.

Groaning, drained from the impact and his earlier workings, Corwynt rolls slowly off the table and turns toward Lily, his earlier rage vanished in the wake of the artifact's crystal clarity. "Surrender to the Goddess's justice," he rasps as he stalks forward, a hitch in his step from where his hip hit the table. "Or this ends with a slowly cooling body."

<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.

    Anger and sheer determination are just about the only things Loren has on his side here -- he might be a first class citizen, but his precise etheric talents lie on a plane separate to the one he seems intent on carrying himself down. He might be a product of Jugend, he might be an officer, but his days were spent more on the practical matters of support than how to maximize any offensive ether he might master. Even his martial prowess on display here is a show of bare-bones practical self-defense (with an etheric boost) rather than any rare or potent skill.

    He still hits. It's still not enough.

    "'One of her Chosen'? Don't make me laugh!" he echoes in a perfectly intelligable tongue for a change, teeth bared as he stares back at Leo, blood slicking one side of his face. "All of you, you're all delusional!"

    He's losing his breath, bit by bit. There's a bright arc as the blade slices through the air--
    He puts everything he has into it.
    Drops every bit of awareness, pours all of will into that half-dome of white light to catch and diffuse the blade-born beam of energy across its surface; the shield sparks, scintillating motes of glassy dust blown off its surface. Though it trembles, it still holds.

    But to burn this much power into the barrier also forces Loren to a bit of an impass: hold the barrier against any incoming strike but forgoe another attack and risk suffocation? Try to gather whatever air remaining to him within the barrier but risk it being too weak to take another strike? Or take a chance at an attack but surely catch whatever retaliation Leo has readied for him and almost certainly succumb. He can only do one of these.

    Naturally, given his current state, he does the dumbest of them. He drops the barrier, shifts his will into the rock, and--

    Sways ungainly to ultimately just fall to his knees, clutching at his chest as he struggles to take a breath.
    It's. Embarrassing.

<Pose Tracker> Lily Keil has posed.

Bruised she is and was, though less weary--the truth of course is that Lily is inured to pain like few others, and the agony of her arm only seems to charge her. Thought is all it takes for Lily to cast; a desire for the world to be changed, and it changes. The sorceress watches the Guardsman hit the wall, noting his pain, his blinking. She does not really know the magic he uses in the Rememberizer; she simply notices the change in him for an instant, his rage gone as he rasps, stalking forward.

...At the same time, she can hear Loren's retorts, hear the way he's losing his breath...

She lifts an eyebrow at Corwynt. Her sharp expression does little to suggest the way that that punch nearly knocked her out outright, and as Corwynt keeps coming, Lily offers a long, one-armed shrug.

"I'll come along," she answers casually, without any of the rage of moments ago. Her hands and arms, of course, continue to gleam, light travelling up and down the circuitry in regular intervals.

"If you're done trying to knock me out." She leans against the bar, still on the floor, looking between Corwynt and Leo. ...For experienced warriors like the two of them, her continued wariness is obvious.

<Pose Tracker> White Knight Leo has posed.

    Just what is that barrier made of? Leo takes a step back as it flares brilliantly, diffusing the energy of the Demon Fang. He knows damn well what Corwynt did, but so far both of the remaining miscreants are still on their feet. Maybe they're just good at holding their--

    Loren slumps forwards. Leo seizes the opportunity. The White Knight strides forwards as the Gebler medic pitches onto his knees, gasping. He reaches down--one hand closes around the front of Loren's shirt, gripping it tightly as he lifts the man bodily off the floor. Tendons stand out in Leo's neck. "You're under arrest, heathen," Leo says. His tone suggests there isn't a damn thing Loren can do about it. A moment later, Lily decides she's coming along, too. Leo looks over at her, and for the first time assesses the damage the young woman has endured. Dangerous or not, the honorable thing would be to give her a gel, at least--and to set the arm.

    Once Corwynt is busy with something else, probably.

<Pose Tracker> Corwynt has posed.

A flicker of complex emotion flickers across Corwynt's face - measures of relief, chagrin, anger, and exhaustion - as Lily accepts the offer of surrender. A part of him is grateful she did so, as he's spent too much of his energy to engage in a knock-down drag-out. Another part of him wanted to do it anyway.

None of them get a vote, however - he is a servant of his Goddess, and his duty is clear.

"Very well," he growls, his fists unclenching, arms dropping down to his sides. He looks wearily back up to the skies, releasing the grip of his power, allowing the storm to rise back up toward the roof of the world. "In Althena's name, I accept your surrender. Violate your parole, however," the little man says sternly. "And all in this land shall know you for an oathbreaker," he adds, as though the concept means something to him.

He makes no move to offer healing items to Lily, because he doesn't have pockets to carry them in. Leo's the one with goods to sample.

<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.

    Loren doesn't have the strength to struggle or the voice with which to protest once Leo seizes him by the front of his shirt. Fury might light in his blue eyes, but it's only impotent; he doesn't resist arrest, merely gasps for his next breath. It's all he can do to retain some dignity here and now and not simply black out.

    Up until the moment the pressure of the storm eases, at least, allowing him that final lungful of air.

    "Y... you... Lamb," he utters, struggling against Leo's grip. He might as well try to break an iron shackle barehanded, though: it's not happening.

    "You'll... regret this..."

<Pose Tracker> Lily Keil has posed.

Lily has definitely been through the wringer. Her right arm is obviously broken; there are burns, her sleeves are tattered. Still there's the glow of magic about her, though her eye has faded to a normal gold and there is not the hum of active Ether. She has a black eye, a split lip, and more bruises forming.

So why does she seem like the cat who ate the canary?

Lily is not foreign to surrenders, of course. But now, she inclines her head, looking to Corwynt. "...Interesting job on the fire," she remarks, and then hears his stern remarks and looks at him more seriously. "...I believe you," she answers, strangely solemn.

She draws in a broader breath--there's a slight hitch to it, as if she might have broken a rib or two too--and shakes her head at Loren's response. "Tsk, tsk. Night night, Voss."

She looks up to Leo, at that.