zenderael_rl | [EVENT]

Who the fuck was this, now? He turned his attention away from Zale to the woman taking up space at his table, his brows drawing low over his eyes.

Ah. This girl. The idiot who'd snuck out of the tent with her scrawny friend during the blackout riots. "You're welcome," he said flatly, giving her no openings for a conversation.

While Rhys worked one end, Nadir came up with his sword already blazing red and orange, doding its tail to climb its hindquarters, digging the blade into the creaking joint. He'd just set a box down next to Ezra, who'd been standing there ready to open it and put out the food inside, when the strike of lightning pulled both of their attention to the center of the room.

"...Kharveryos?? Are you fucking-"

"You know that thing?" Nadir said, incredulous, but didn't wait for the answer. Under the table his sword lay inconspicuous under Ezra's jacket, and he pulled it out of the scabbard, tossing it aside. "Out. Get out."

"Is that Rhys?"

Nadir swore loudly, hearing only Ezra's "use fire!" as he cleared the table and ran into the fray. He caught sight, before he passed out of his line of vision, the rogue on the dragon's head, and the familiar shock of red hair to the front of the beast. An arrow was shot at it, though he didn't keep looking to see if it hit.

The dragon wasn't happy to have so many different points being attacked. Nadir nearly lost his grip to a wing batting at him, keeping back a wave of nausea at the stench of the thing. He yanked the sword out and jumped back onto the ground, rolling out of the way just as a stream of ice breath followed his descent.

He didn't have to give her an opening. She was going to make it.

"You're a berserker," she continued, not skipping a beat. "Why are you here?"

"That's a funny thing to accuse a guy of," he replied. He gave no hint of shock at the suggestion, either because he was and she'd guessed correctly, or because he wasn't and it was a ridiculous thing to say. It was just bland, no emotional reaction whatsoever.

"No, it's not."

After throwing Zale into the fray, Roman surged forward, running at the beast with his fists readied. Fury was a wonderful thing, it took away all the distractions and kept you focused on what was really important: the thrill of battle.

Roman had been a berserker long enough to know how to guide it. He came up behind Rhys, taking a running leap right at the face that had nearly snatched Rhys's off. A solid punch, with the full force of Roman's momentum behind it, flew right into Kharveryos's nose. Bone cracked.

All the while the normally calm Roman was grinning like a lunatic under the exhilarating influence of fury.

He gave her a polite, but mocking smile. "And why," he asked, "is that?"

It made her prickly and wish that Rhys had made her a berserker purely so she punch him in the face and actually do some damage, but she returned his smile with one of her own.

"People here don't take out five men like they're nothing but dolls."

"Pro MMA competitor," he said. "Five untrained ruffians. Numbers don't always beat out skill."

Her smile faltered. "Why bother lying?"

He tapped his plastic fork against the paper plate, giving her a very unamused look. "You think I'd answer that if I was lying?"

Okay who were these people and what were they doing not running away.

Great merciful Sharmoi's tail in the sky, did that one have fire? And a sword? Did that other one just punch the dragon's knee out? Whatever. Temporary allies were still allies.

Zale kicked himself back onto his feet and dashed back in, leap frogging over the redhead's shoulders to spring onto Roman's with his feet. He leapt from there to get onto the dragon's skull before it lifted its head, then surfed his way down the neck to strike into its wing joint. The wing fell slack, and Zale grinned toward the one-eyed spellsword. "You're welc-- oooh."

He'd forgotten about the ice breath.

This was quickly turning into one big clusterfuck (except Noelle would not use such language because she just didn't.) Noelle was not pleased. Each additional body was each additional barrier, something to keep out for lest she plant an arrow in their back than the correct target, and oh did many of them forget that there was someone who could do that behind them.

This was why she preferred working alone.

The first arrow missed its mark, but the second didn't. Whatever hollow for eyes it may have had, kharveryos still used them for sight. It bellowed in rage and it was fortunate timing, for it thrashed its head wildly and so spilled that stream of ice on the ceiling of the cultural center rather than in Zale and Nadir's faces.

"Yes." Her tone and look made it clear she thought this was a trick question.

He huffed out an amused exhalation of breath, lowering and shaking his head at her. "You are unfuckingbelievable. Accuse a guy of being a berserker, accuse him of lying to you about it, and then expect him to tell you the truth about why he's not telling you the truth?"

He looked up and met her eyes, wearing a smile that clearly said he thought she was an idiot. "We got a fucking mastermind over here."

Alison knew Kharveryos, and knew it well. Anathema had been especially useful in those fights, because the assassin could get to just the right place on the thing's spine and target it. The trouble was figuring out what place that was, since it tended to be randomly generated, and though she wasn't about to go charging in in place of Anathema, she knew what sign to look for.

She crept around, keeping her distance, eyes scanning down the thing's spine from the base of it's skull down to - there, there it was! Right between the shoulder blades!

Alison had seen Rhys rush in, and knew he had never fought this thing. He'd never had a character high enough to join in on the max-level raids when she'd offered a spot. She wasn't sure if the others would know, either, and even if they already did, hearing it again wouldn't hurt.

So she scooted as close as she dared before shouting, "Spinel!" to try and get his attention (since that was the name she knew him most as), only waiting a quick beat before she followed it up. "The shaking vertibrae, between the shoulders! Target it!"

The thing started thrashing and breathing ice and Alison could only hope Rhys (or any of them) heard her before she was scrambling back. She had none of the defences of her characters, and would be of far more use helping the other mundanes get the fuck out.

Rhys stared at the other berserker before him, and that's what it was. Seeing fury like this shocked him for a stunned moment. That had been him, a few times.

That would be him again, someday.

He was thankful today wasn't that day, still having enough of his awareness to hear Alison calling to him. It's the kind of name that was shouted during a dungeon run. This was not a boss Rhys had ever encountered. Figured he'd have to pick a class himself before he got the chance to fight something of this caliber.

With the dragon breathing its ice up at the ceiling, it left an opening under its ribcage. Rhys slid under it and leapt into an upper cut under the spine, right at the shoulder blades as Alison commanded. The force sent a tremor through the dragon's skeleton, and a few of its ribs fell free and clattered onto the ground around Rhys. That was definitely the weak spot.

Unfortunately, it put Rhys at the heart of the dark magic that held the lich dragon together and he landed in a pained crouch, forced to roll away before one of the ribs landed on him.

The dragon thrashed in a newfound rage, swiping with its claws and tail-- the latter of which snapped off and tumbled into a table of Greek cuisine.

Nadir just barely got up and away when the thing began to fall apart. He just barely spared a glance to Zale before he took notice of what else was going on, not even letting himself a sigh of relief as the dragon's head snapped up again in pain, an arrow in its eye socket.

Rhys- what the hell was he doing? He hadn't heard what Alison had said after the sound of breaking bones and the ice shattering the lights in the ceiling and slowly starting to break apart the structure as the dragon continued to flail, hitting weakened walls and causing the building to shudder as more of the dragon began to fall off. But he saw where Rhys had hit, and squinted, trying to see- yes, that was where he'd been aiming, he could see it now. There was no point in so much melee concentrated in one spot, so he switched to ranged tactics.

The tail coming off was a big surprise. Seeing it as no longer being a threat, Nadir found his spot there and ran a fire-induced shockwave up the dragon's spine, hoping it was enough to reach the shuddering vertebrae.

Roman did not expect to have Zale using him as a springboard, and the feet pushing off his shoulders sent him tumbling straight into the floor. But he rolled right back to his feet, because FURY STOPS FOR NO MAN

Except by the time he was back up, the thing was already falling apart. Rhys's punches and Nadir's magic succeeded in snapping the weak vertebra out of place, and with a shudder and an icy hiss of breath, Kharveryos crumbled, its bones scattering across the hall.

Roman's heavy breathing slowed, shallowed, evened out. His fury faded. He straightened, arms down to his sides, and looked out over the damage.

He turned back to give Noelle and Zale a thumbs-up.

The temperature plummeted.

Another crack of thunder shook the Zorba's, and the bones along the floor pulled together toward the ice-blue center of dark magic. They reformed back into Kharveryos' perfect skeleton, and the lich beast let out a roar along with a frozen stream of breath.

It hit the exit, freezing over the doors and trapping those who had yet to escape.

Kharveryos struck out at the nearest combantant and spread his wings in a massive arc, good as new.

[You may assume fighting is taking place indefinitely in the background from here until another Mod Point. If you'd like characters in the fight to step back into noncombative subplots, you may assume Roman, Zale, and/or Rhys are keeping Kharveryos occupied. You may also make snippets of battle between fewer characters if inclined, or assume some attacks get through. Have at it!]

...What was that noise behind him?

His head slowly turned to see Kharveryos forming itself back together. His triumphant face fell. "Shit."

Roman, unfortunately, was the nearest combatant. He went flying at the behest of Kharveryos's reformed claws, hitting the same broken baklava table that Zale had made his unfortunate landing on.

He just lay there for a moment, glaring at the dragon, hating his life.

It was true. Aside from monetary purchases, Jordan rarely thought things out in advance. A leap before you look kind of person, it had bitten her in the ass several times, including now.

"Thanks," she said, ring finger tapping against her thigh as she tried to quell her rising annoyance. "It'd be a miracle if the truth came out of any of you."

If she was trying to goad him, it didn't work. Roman had been given his leadership position because X-DAV trusted him not to go blabbering all their secrets to any idiot who asked.

"Are you done?" he asked. "Food's getting cold."

She separated from Roman and Zale, walking along the walls of the room, looking over the stands and the attendees. Of the three, she was the most poorly disguised, her bow and quiver, wrapped in sheets sticking out like sore thumbs. A group passed by, the word 'vigilante' easy to decipher, their label of her.

Well, it wasn't exactly a mystery.

[ open to any, and if your character wouldn't stop her, then you can assume she has stopped in front of a food booth ]

"Oh, no, go ahead and eat," she said, placing her elbow on the table and resting her cheek against her knuckles. "Berserkers aren't renowned for their manners."

[EVENT] - Kharveryos

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7-8PM [open]

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