There was so much for her to be worried about, but if Asala gave it a moment to register in her mind, she'd be stricken with inaction. Instead, she shoved it all the way to the back until it was a simple itch in her head. The others would be okay, Zee would be okay, and Cyrus and Astraia would be okay. The last part, she would see to herself. But first they would have to get around the lake.
Leon had led Rilien, Cor, and herself to the lakeside, however when it became clear that Cyrus and the dragon would land on the other side, they'd quickly tried to make it around as fast as they could. Still, that left precious moments where Cyrus was alone with the dragon. "Hurry," she murmured to herself, though she was loud enough for the others to hear as well. The moment they stepped into range, Asala had already pulled her magic into her hands, and without breaking stride she reared back and tossed a barrier, a completely spherical pink bubble, toward the dragon. It struck with enough force to echo off of its scales, and then shatter, the shards hopefully cutting into what exposed flesh they could find.
Asala slowed after that, she'd seen Astraia get thrown into a tree nearby, and that was on her mind at the moment. She spared one last glare at the dragon before she slowed. "I am sorry, I will be back. Help him," she said, though unnecessarily. With that, she peeled off from the others and went to Astraia, where she quickly dropped and began to check the girl's pulse.
"She's alive!" Asala called for anyone still listening. She then went to work quickly, to make sure she stayed that way.
The noise of battle faded behind her while she concentrated on her task, but a few of the pieces of what must have been going on were too loud to disappear completely. A sword rang free from a sheath close by—probably Captain Pavell's, since Rilien carried knives and Leon used no weapons at all. The rush of heavy footsteps thudding over the ground, Leon's booming "get down!" and the unmistakable sizzle of the dragon's fire breath after.
Something or someone singed, the smell thick in her nose as the wind shifted, but there were no too-loud cries of pain at least. The dragon at one point jumped, audible only as the hard impact when it landed, the earth trembling beneath her knees, but it seemed to have landed further away rather than closer, the others no doubt trying to give her room enough to work.
The din settled almost into a rhythm, occasional shakes in the ground indicating a violent reposition by the dragon, clangs of metal weapons and gauntlets against its lyrium-encased scales, and the familiar nausea that the red kind brought with it. Some indeterminate time later, she heard quick footsteps approaching, and Rilien appeared at her side, Cyrus supported beside him, one arm flung over the tranquil's shoulder.
Rilien helped him lower himself down next to the tree, then nodded once at her and took off again, presumably back to the fight. Cyrus held a hand to a spot just beneath and to the right of his heart, but it wasn't large enough to cover the seeping tear the dragon's claws had rent new in his skin. He shifted just long enough to tear his own sleeve off and press it to the wound, hissing when it made contact but applying pressure enough to pale the skin of his hands nonetheless.
His eyes fell to Astraia, but he did not dare interrupt the healing process, the only sound from his presence the irregular heft and push of his breathing. His head tipped back to hit the bark of the tree behind him, and he squeezed his eyes shut.
Asala hissed to herself but focused on Astraia's healing first. The pinkish light in her hand intensified for a moment before she tapered it off. Once more, Asala pressed a finger against Astraia's neck and registered the regular heartbeat, before pressing her ear lightly against her chest. It was soft, but unlabored. "I'll be back, I promise," Asala whispered to her, squeezing her shoulder before shuffling on her knees to face Cyrus.
"Let's stop the bleeding first," she told Cyrus, the spell already in her hand.
He shook his head immediately, though he blinked afterwards, looking vaguely disoriented. “Her first. Finish that—I'll keep." As if to prove it, Cyrus knitted his brow, clenching his teeth and trying to shift where he sat. Blue light lit his fingertips, then guttered out. With a sound halfway between frustration and pain, he did it again, pulling away his mangled sleeve and making a clear attempt to stop his own bleeding. To still be capable of even so little after all of that was a sign of deep reserves of magic, but the spell was weak, and healing had never been his strong suit, besides.
She glanced at Astraia and winced. She felt stretched thin, she needed to stabilize them both, but at the same time... She started to look toward the others, but stopped herself and shook her head. Later. She had to focus now. Asala pulled the satchel off of herself and tossed it nearby where Cyrus sat. "Take a few potions now, do what you can. I'll be there in moment," she said, healing spells back in her hands before she could even finish her sentence.
His free hand shoved the flap of the satchel aside, then tipped it upside down, several vials and other bottles spilling out onto the grass. He picked up a red one, taking the cork out with his teeth, and swallowed it in three gulps. It was one of the pearlescent ones—Rilien's. A few of those tended to make it into any of the healers' emergency kits. The relief was immediate. He picked up another, mostly ignoring the light blue lyrium potions in the mix, though he did nudge one closer to him. She'd never known him to use them, but this wasn't exactly a normal situation.
“This will be enough." He turned his eyes out towards the field, wincing at something she could not see.
She didn't turn to see what he was looking at, not immediately. Instead she focused on finishing Astraia's healing. She put all of the mana she could afford into it, and quickly. She had to get to the fight as soon as she could. Eventually, Asala judged her stable, at least for long enough for them to deal with the dragon. With that, she jerked her head toward Cyrus, and the vial rolling around on the ground beside him. She leaned over and took a couple of potions, a red and a blue. With her potions, she looked at Cyrus and gave him an empty smile. "Wish us luck," she stated, tossing a healing spell at his chest.
She stood and turned toward the battle at hand. The dragon was injured, but far from out of the fight. There was still enough life in its limbs to give the other considerable trouble. Leon had lost his armor at some point during it, and one arm was bleeding heavily. Rilien's arm wasn't bleeding, but it looked no better, his sleeve having been burned off and the skin beneath fiery red and blistering. He was missing a knife, but a look at the dragon revealed where he lost it, as it remained embedded in the claw marks on its side. Captain Pavell seemed to have escaped the worst of it, suffering only a missing helmet and a gash across his temple.
She frowned and downed the mana potion, but didn't hesitate after that, crossing the field quickly to get into the fight herself. "Leon!" she called, tossing the healing potion in his direction. "Where do you need me!?"
Fortunately, the dragon was at that moment distracted by the young captain, who fended off one of its claws with the large claymore he carried. Irritated, it lashed its tail, but Leon grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back with him fast enough that it just missed, air rushing by them with a heavy whistle.
"Keep back," he said, pausing a second to quaff the potion. "I don't think a barrier will hold up against it, but if you can use them to slow it down when it looks like it's trying to hit something, that will make it easier for us to keep clear." He released his hold, flexing his gauntlets, the only pieces of armor he'd been able to grab before his tower collapsed.
Stepping several paces away, he charged for the dragon's flank. The three of them seemed to have adopted a strategy of staying spread out, drawing the creature's attention in turns to let their allies get in at its sides and rear, though the tail obviously made the last a gamble at best. All of them were close range fighters, but they were staying mobile. The dragon, on the other hand, seemed unable to decide on a target, switching to whomever had most recently caused it the most pain like the wounded animal it was.
Leon jumped when he reached it, thrusting his entire arm into one of the wounds in its right wing—lightning burns, by the look of it. A spray of blood doused him when he physically rent the more delicate skin there, gripping the scaly edge tightly in one hand and pulling with a heave.
It was much too large for him to fell, but the move did ease the pressure on Captain Pavell, and the dragon turned to face Leon, rearing up on its haunches and attempting to pounce on him.
Asala could just barely see Rilien on the other side, using the opportunity to bury his second dagger beside the first in one of the open wounds. It left a spreading swath of frost behind, not enough to seriously hamper the dragon's movement, but no doubt enough to cause it even more pain. When Leon didn't end up under its claws, it shrieked and jumped away—dragging Rilien along for the ride. His daggers slid out about halfway there, still gripped in his hands, and though he fell more softly than most people would have in that situation, the ground he hit was hard and rocky, and he did not immediately stir.
The dragon whirled when it landed, holding its injured and bleeding wings high and away from its body.
It gave Asala an easier target. A spear-shaped barrier materialized near one of its injuries, and jammed harshly into one of the dragon's open wouds. The spear sunk in deep, but that wasn't her main focus. The dragon killed her brother-- she had not forgotten. The anger had been welling up inside her as they'd fought it, but she kept it in check, careful not to let it consume her. She'd be better focused without rage or vengeance clouding her mind. Better to make sure that the dragon wouldn't kill any more of her friends.
The spear began to grow as she pumped more mana into it, until it was less a spear and more of a thick column, spreading and rending the wound even more until blood poured from the wound. Pops could even be heard as muscle and sinew began to separate from bone. It did not come without consequence however, the dragon turning its pained attention on her. When it reared its head back, Asala immediately let go of the spear and tossed up a quick shield before she turned tail and ran.
There was no foliage to hide behind, none that would stand against the breath of the dragon, but there was the lake. She just had to be fast enough to reach it. She could here the dragon inhale behind her, and she reached the edge of the water just as she reached the lake shore. The flames must have shattered the barrier immediately, the flames licked at her back, and it was almost too intense to bear as she dove into the water. There was a splash and instant relief as the cool water comforted what had to be burns on her back. Even the icy water of the lake couldn't stand against the dragon's flame, and the water around her heated up. Fortunately, the dragon ran out of breath before it could boil her and she quickly stood, pushing her head out of the water and wiping it from her eyes.
Captain Pavell stepped in front of it, perhaps to prevent it from coming after her, as it now bled heavily from the wound in its side, in addition to the other myriad cuts, slashes and burns on its body, both old and new, and in contrast to all those fighting it, more worn down by the second, its anger seemed only to be increasing. And it lashed out with its neck, closing its jaws around him, sword and all, and lifting him from the ground, a fate likely to have befallen Asala had he not interceded.
Leon, trying to pick Rilien up off the ground, set the Tranquil quickly back down on his feet and sprinted to the spot, but the air was already filled with the grinding sound of its teeth against the Captain's plate armor, where it had him by the sword-arm and shoulder.
Clearly not one to give up, he was using his free hand to punch at it, trying to reach for something vulnerable, but it had taken few hits to the face, and would not be dissuaded, not even when Leon slammed bodily into its chest, pummeling the injury left by the catapult what seemed like hours ago. The captain yelped, the sound cutting off when something—probably his arm—snapped.
What happened next didn't exactly make sense. The dragon shook its head, worrying the elf's body like a dog would a rag-toy. But then there was a bright burst of blue light; it looked like nothing quite so much as what Séverine's templars could do, but... raw somehow. There was a crack, and the Captain flew from the dragon's maw, crashing into the lake next to her, where he began to sink.
The dragon, for its part, was now missing several more teeth, a nasty burn having torn away most of its upper lip on the left side, and when it shrieked, the noise was roughened, like perhaps the throat and tongue had burned as well.
She didn't wait to see if he would reemerge on his own. Asala dove back into the water and swam toward where she saw him drop. The burns on her back screamed in protest, though by the grace of the cool water she was able to push through it to reach him. She hooked both arms underneath his and lift, pulling both their heads out of the water, where she began the arduous process of dragging them both out of the water. Against the fresh air, it felt like the burns on her back were on fire again, but she pushed through it, and began to work on the captain, careful to keep tossing cautious gazes back toward the dragon, in case she needed to take them both and roll back into the water.
But the dragon was reeling; it didn't take more than a few more heavy body-blows from Leon to bring it down. It crashed to the ground, thrashing, but characteristic cold efficiency, Rilien picked one of his knives up off the ground and stalked to its head, reaching up and burying the blade up to the hilt in its right eye.
The dragon stilled.
Asala finally exhaled several moments later, letting the air she wasn't aware she'd pent up escape. Finally, she thought, leaning forward until her forehead touched the captain's chest. Finally. It felt like some weight was lifted off of her soul, and she found herself hoping that Meraad was finally at peace. However, there wasn't any time to truly savor the victory. She pushed herself back up carefully to avoid agitating the burns on her back, and continued stabilizing the captain. There was work still to be done.
She had injured to care for.
Leon had led Rilien, Cor, and herself to the lakeside, however when it became clear that Cyrus and the dragon would land on the other side, they'd quickly tried to make it around as fast as they could. Still, that left precious moments where Cyrus was alone with the dragon. "Hurry," she murmured to herself, though she was loud enough for the others to hear as well. The moment they stepped into range, Asala had already pulled her magic into her hands, and without breaking stride she reared back and tossed a barrier, a completely spherical pink bubble, toward the dragon. It struck with enough force to echo off of its scales, and then shatter, the shards hopefully cutting into what exposed flesh they could find.
Asala slowed after that, she'd seen Astraia get thrown into a tree nearby, and that was on her mind at the moment. She spared one last glare at the dragon before she slowed. "I am sorry, I will be back. Help him," she said, though unnecessarily. With that, she peeled off from the others and went to Astraia, where she quickly dropped and began to check the girl's pulse.
"She's alive!" Asala called for anyone still listening. She then went to work quickly, to make sure she stayed that way.
The noise of battle faded behind her while she concentrated on her task, but a few of the pieces of what must have been going on were too loud to disappear completely. A sword rang free from a sheath close by—probably Captain Pavell's, since Rilien carried knives and Leon used no weapons at all. The rush of heavy footsteps thudding over the ground, Leon's booming "get down!" and the unmistakable sizzle of the dragon's fire breath after.
Something or someone singed, the smell thick in her nose as the wind shifted, but there were no too-loud cries of pain at least. The dragon at one point jumped, audible only as the hard impact when it landed, the earth trembling beneath her knees, but it seemed to have landed further away rather than closer, the others no doubt trying to give her room enough to work.
The din settled almost into a rhythm, occasional shakes in the ground indicating a violent reposition by the dragon, clangs of metal weapons and gauntlets against its lyrium-encased scales, and the familiar nausea that the red kind brought with it. Some indeterminate time later, she heard quick footsteps approaching, and Rilien appeared at her side, Cyrus supported beside him, one arm flung over the tranquil's shoulder.
Rilien helped him lower himself down next to the tree, then nodded once at her and took off again, presumably back to the fight. Cyrus held a hand to a spot just beneath and to the right of his heart, but it wasn't large enough to cover the seeping tear the dragon's claws had rent new in his skin. He shifted just long enough to tear his own sleeve off and press it to the wound, hissing when it made contact but applying pressure enough to pale the skin of his hands nonetheless.
His eyes fell to Astraia, but he did not dare interrupt the healing process, the only sound from his presence the irregular heft and push of his breathing. His head tipped back to hit the bark of the tree behind him, and he squeezed his eyes shut.
Asala hissed to herself but focused on Astraia's healing first. The pinkish light in her hand intensified for a moment before she tapered it off. Once more, Asala pressed a finger against Astraia's neck and registered the regular heartbeat, before pressing her ear lightly against her chest. It was soft, but unlabored. "I'll be back, I promise," Asala whispered to her, squeezing her shoulder before shuffling on her knees to face Cyrus.
"Let's stop the bleeding first," she told Cyrus, the spell already in her hand.
He shook his head immediately, though he blinked afterwards, looking vaguely disoriented. “Her first. Finish that—I'll keep." As if to prove it, Cyrus knitted his brow, clenching his teeth and trying to shift where he sat. Blue light lit his fingertips, then guttered out. With a sound halfway between frustration and pain, he did it again, pulling away his mangled sleeve and making a clear attempt to stop his own bleeding. To still be capable of even so little after all of that was a sign of deep reserves of magic, but the spell was weak, and healing had never been his strong suit, besides.
She glanced at Astraia and winced. She felt stretched thin, she needed to stabilize them both, but at the same time... She started to look toward the others, but stopped herself and shook her head. Later. She had to focus now. Asala pulled the satchel off of herself and tossed it nearby where Cyrus sat. "Take a few potions now, do what you can. I'll be there in moment," she said, healing spells back in her hands before she could even finish her sentence.
His free hand shoved the flap of the satchel aside, then tipped it upside down, several vials and other bottles spilling out onto the grass. He picked up a red one, taking the cork out with his teeth, and swallowed it in three gulps. It was one of the pearlescent ones—Rilien's. A few of those tended to make it into any of the healers' emergency kits. The relief was immediate. He picked up another, mostly ignoring the light blue lyrium potions in the mix, though he did nudge one closer to him. She'd never known him to use them, but this wasn't exactly a normal situation.
“This will be enough." He turned his eyes out towards the field, wincing at something she could not see.
She didn't turn to see what he was looking at, not immediately. Instead she focused on finishing Astraia's healing. She put all of the mana she could afford into it, and quickly. She had to get to the fight as soon as she could. Eventually, Asala judged her stable, at least for long enough for them to deal with the dragon. With that, she jerked her head toward Cyrus, and the vial rolling around on the ground beside him. She leaned over and took a couple of potions, a red and a blue. With her potions, she looked at Cyrus and gave him an empty smile. "Wish us luck," she stated, tossing a healing spell at his chest.
She stood and turned toward the battle at hand. The dragon was injured, but far from out of the fight. There was still enough life in its limbs to give the other considerable trouble. Leon had lost his armor at some point during it, and one arm was bleeding heavily. Rilien's arm wasn't bleeding, but it looked no better, his sleeve having been burned off and the skin beneath fiery red and blistering. He was missing a knife, but a look at the dragon revealed where he lost it, as it remained embedded in the claw marks on its side. Captain Pavell seemed to have escaped the worst of it, suffering only a missing helmet and a gash across his temple.
She frowned and downed the mana potion, but didn't hesitate after that, crossing the field quickly to get into the fight herself. "Leon!" she called, tossing the healing potion in his direction. "Where do you need me!?"
Fortunately, the dragon was at that moment distracted by the young captain, who fended off one of its claws with the large claymore he carried. Irritated, it lashed its tail, but Leon grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back with him fast enough that it just missed, air rushing by them with a heavy whistle.
"Keep back," he said, pausing a second to quaff the potion. "I don't think a barrier will hold up against it, but if you can use them to slow it down when it looks like it's trying to hit something, that will make it easier for us to keep clear." He released his hold, flexing his gauntlets, the only pieces of armor he'd been able to grab before his tower collapsed.
Stepping several paces away, he charged for the dragon's flank. The three of them seemed to have adopted a strategy of staying spread out, drawing the creature's attention in turns to let their allies get in at its sides and rear, though the tail obviously made the last a gamble at best. All of them were close range fighters, but they were staying mobile. The dragon, on the other hand, seemed unable to decide on a target, switching to whomever had most recently caused it the most pain like the wounded animal it was.
Leon jumped when he reached it, thrusting his entire arm into one of the wounds in its right wing—lightning burns, by the look of it. A spray of blood doused him when he physically rent the more delicate skin there, gripping the scaly edge tightly in one hand and pulling with a heave.
It was much too large for him to fell, but the move did ease the pressure on Captain Pavell, and the dragon turned to face Leon, rearing up on its haunches and attempting to pounce on him.
Asala could just barely see Rilien on the other side, using the opportunity to bury his second dagger beside the first in one of the open wounds. It left a spreading swath of frost behind, not enough to seriously hamper the dragon's movement, but no doubt enough to cause it even more pain. When Leon didn't end up under its claws, it shrieked and jumped away—dragging Rilien along for the ride. His daggers slid out about halfway there, still gripped in his hands, and though he fell more softly than most people would have in that situation, the ground he hit was hard and rocky, and he did not immediately stir.
The dragon whirled when it landed, holding its injured and bleeding wings high and away from its body.
It gave Asala an easier target. A spear-shaped barrier materialized near one of its injuries, and jammed harshly into one of the dragon's open wouds. The spear sunk in deep, but that wasn't her main focus. The dragon killed her brother-- she had not forgotten. The anger had been welling up inside her as they'd fought it, but she kept it in check, careful not to let it consume her. She'd be better focused without rage or vengeance clouding her mind. Better to make sure that the dragon wouldn't kill any more of her friends.
The spear began to grow as she pumped more mana into it, until it was less a spear and more of a thick column, spreading and rending the wound even more until blood poured from the wound. Pops could even be heard as muscle and sinew began to separate from bone. It did not come without consequence however, the dragon turning its pained attention on her. When it reared its head back, Asala immediately let go of the spear and tossed up a quick shield before she turned tail and ran.
There was no foliage to hide behind, none that would stand against the breath of the dragon, but there was the lake. She just had to be fast enough to reach it. She could here the dragon inhale behind her, and she reached the edge of the water just as she reached the lake shore. The flames must have shattered the barrier immediately, the flames licked at her back, and it was almost too intense to bear as she dove into the water. There was a splash and instant relief as the cool water comforted what had to be burns on her back. Even the icy water of the lake couldn't stand against the dragon's flame, and the water around her heated up. Fortunately, the dragon ran out of breath before it could boil her and she quickly stood, pushing her head out of the water and wiping it from her eyes.
Captain Pavell stepped in front of it, perhaps to prevent it from coming after her, as it now bled heavily from the wound in its side, in addition to the other myriad cuts, slashes and burns on its body, both old and new, and in contrast to all those fighting it, more worn down by the second, its anger seemed only to be increasing. And it lashed out with its neck, closing its jaws around him, sword and all, and lifting him from the ground, a fate likely to have befallen Asala had he not interceded.
Leon, trying to pick Rilien up off the ground, set the Tranquil quickly back down on his feet and sprinted to the spot, but the air was already filled with the grinding sound of its teeth against the Captain's plate armor, where it had him by the sword-arm and shoulder.
Clearly not one to give up, he was using his free hand to punch at it, trying to reach for something vulnerable, but it had taken few hits to the face, and would not be dissuaded, not even when Leon slammed bodily into its chest, pummeling the injury left by the catapult what seemed like hours ago. The captain yelped, the sound cutting off when something—probably his arm—snapped.
What happened next didn't exactly make sense. The dragon shook its head, worrying the elf's body like a dog would a rag-toy. But then there was a bright burst of blue light; it looked like nothing quite so much as what Séverine's templars could do, but... raw somehow. There was a crack, and the Captain flew from the dragon's maw, crashing into the lake next to her, where he began to sink.
The dragon, for its part, was now missing several more teeth, a nasty burn having torn away most of its upper lip on the left side, and when it shrieked, the noise was roughened, like perhaps the throat and tongue had burned as well.
She didn't wait to see if he would reemerge on his own. Asala dove back into the water and swam toward where she saw him drop. The burns on her back screamed in protest, though by the grace of the cool water she was able to push through it to reach him. She hooked both arms underneath his and lift, pulling both their heads out of the water, where she began the arduous process of dragging them both out of the water. Against the fresh air, it felt like the burns on her back were on fire again, but she pushed through it, and began to work on the captain, careful to keep tossing cautious gazes back toward the dragon, in case she needed to take them both and roll back into the water.
But the dragon was reeling; it didn't take more than a few more heavy body-blows from Leon to bring it down. It crashed to the ground, thrashing, but characteristic cold efficiency, Rilien picked one of his knives up off the ground and stalked to its head, reaching up and burying the blade up to the hilt in its right eye.
The dragon stilled.
Asala finally exhaled several moments later, letting the air she wasn't aware she'd pent up escape. Finally, she thought, leaning forward until her forehead touched the captain's chest. Finally. It felt like some weight was lifted off of her soul, and she found herself hoping that Meraad was finally at peace. However, there wasn't any time to truly savor the victory. She pushed herself back up carefully to avoid agitating the burns on her back, and continued stabilizing the captain. There was work still to be done.
She had injured to care for.