THE FOURTH AND FINAL EDIT! THE MEETING WITH X'ZARANN! HYPE!
Apologies for the serial posts.
The older Miqo’te male led the way through the tunnels. He set a solid, unhurried pace. Orrin and X’ogun came out onto a larger cross-tunnel. Here and there, other Warriors and Clipped were going about, though any and all who came anywhere close stepped respectfully out of the way of Orrin, or, more likely, his escort. The place was dim, gleaming, and cold. Down the main path, and further, and then into a widening space set up like a room. Here there were carpets, divans and a chair in the middle. In the middle of the room, laid out on the carpets was Orrin's armor.
Across the room the tunnel continued and by its mouth stood a strangely-familiar huntress. The huntress stood, ponytail draped over her shoulder, watching Orrin with that cat-like regard many of them affected. Her yellow eyes and general appearance tickled some recollection. Orrin’s gaze drifted on the oddly familiar huntress first, though his focus is drawn to the armor on display.
"Go on, boy, get dressed. The Nunh is finishing His meeting." The male waited nearby, giving a nod to the huntress, who nods back, with equal depth.
Orrin blinked and moved towards his armor. The male Miqo’te pulled out a small pocketbook and began to read, while the female simply kept watching Orrin. He first reached for the scaled skin-tight suit that made the majority of his armor, he expected a deep tear just under the left pectoral, a wound from the battle before but found it curiously repaired, it looked near pristine. His grip tightened about the suit but eventually he slips it on. Click. Clack. Snap. After the scale mail under suit was on he made quick work to affix his gauntlets, boots, pauldrons, the mechanized armor fitting and tightening with a metallic ring. He had learned to don the much bulkier Drachen Mail without a squire and had done the motions so many times, so often in times of crisis that it had become second nature. The much lighter and older dragonlancer armor was nothing in comparison. The huntress, waited until he is done dressing up fully. Her stance iwas almost statue-like, her tail not even moving, her eyes the only thing that shifted even a little as he prepared himself.
He was fully garbed just in time for X'indro to amble out of the corridor ahead, the same corridor where the Nunh was supposed to be. His crystalline pink eyes lit up and he grinned as he saw the Dragoon. "Hey, it's my Outsider. He didn't heal up so badly, did he, Vurr?" He grins at the huntress, who more or less ignored him. Then looked at the older man. "Ogun too? Two Fallen for one prisoner, interesting..." His tail swished, and he strutted on by. "Well, have a nice meeting~"
The girl, X'vurr, nods. "The Nunh will see you now." Her voice is familiar too, yet not, weirdly-so... When she moves in order to lead the way, it's almost jarring. She goes slightly ahead of him, down the passageway.
Orrin’s gaze continued to hold on the huntress before donning his helm and walking forward. His armored footsteps upon the cave interior sounding out loudly, echoing, announcing his presence far before anything could possibly come in sight. Orrin himself followed quietly without a word, looking, scanning the walls. At this point, there were no other paths; the passage went on a little while, before ending in a larger chamber. This one had comparatively little in it for its size. Some fifty fulms across and thirty high, the ground dipped down from the entrance, giving the chamber the impression of a shallow bowl. In the middle, the impression was reinforced by a pool of clear water some ten fulms across, still and glittering in the crystalline light. Standing on the far edge, regarding his reflection, was a man who could only be X'zarann.
The resemblence to Anstarra was discernible. A little taller, broader in the shoulder and more visibly muscular, he had the same fine features and physical flawlessness, the same green eyes, the same relaxed and confident-looking smirk, as if thinking of something mildly pleasant. His garb was not what Orrin would expect from a tribal. He had a fine sort of breastplate, which was cloaked with spiked shoulders. His hair was long, spilling below the shoulder; a few locks strayed over his face.
Planted point-first into the ground to either side of him, were a pair of spears. One was Orrin's, the ancient forked spear that came from a time before Ishgard, before the war. The other is a curious, technologically-advanced-looking thing, with a design reminiscent of Allagan style, or perhaps Garlean. Magitek, at the least.
Orrin walked forward, his footsteps continuing to echo out in the large chamber. He spied his weapon by the man's side and narrowed his gaze behind the visor. He halted at the far end of his side of the arena.
X’zarann looked up as Orrin approaches. His gaze was not very much like Anstarra's. It burned with... something. Ambition, perhaps, arrogance, certainly, and a potential for cruelty, though An was hardly innocent of that. There was an edge to his physical beauty that was doubtlessly devastatingly alluring, to those attracted to such.
"Ah, there you are. I trust you have found the accommodations.. Apropriately comfortable."
Orrin remained silent, waiting at the opposite end of the basin, arms at either side stoically. Though his body language suggested a preparedness, as if were X'zarran to lug a lance at him he would be ready to move.
The Nunh smirked lightly, and grasps Orrin's spear, jerking it free of the stone. "A fine weapon." He twirled it ably in his fingers, sliding it down one hand so as to examine the tip. "It is said a Warrior can be judged by their spear. Has it been used? Does it remain sharp? Where are the nicks in the length, those markings that show how desperate their defense." He grasped it below the head, and sets the butt down before him, point-up.
Orrin tensed when X'zarann dare touched his weapon. His right hand closed into a tight fist, the metal of his clawed gauntlet rattling.
"I have wondered if that remained true of Outsiders. You whose weapons are made in foundries by…craftsmen, who rarely - if ever - wield a weapon themselves. It did not seem likely…and yet in my travels, I have often been impressed by what Outsiders have managed to accomplish. Such feats of engineering, of innovation." His other hand plucked up the other weapon, twirling it and setting it down in his other fist, in a mirror of Orrin's. It glowed softly.
"Above all else, I have sought to understand how things work. Power, artifice.. aether, magic. Cleverness and artistry, I find myself compelled to understand it. Do you know what I mean?"
Still, he remained silent, the helm's visor hiding his eyes and mouth, betraying no emotion through his face. He stands at the other side, maintaining the distance between him and X’zarann
X'zarann laughs softly, then smirks. "Ah, but what am I saying? How could you understand? Just looking at you, I can see you have as much profundity as this pool." Orrin glanced down, it was easy to discern now that the water that skirted the basin was only a few ilm at its deepest. "I might as well talk to your spear. From what my Warlord tells me, you speak far more eloquentl with it than without." He flashes his teeth in a grin. "Alas that the irony is likely lost upon you. How your kind loves to condescend mine, seeing us as only simple killers. Yet if you would glance upon your reflection..." He shrugs. "Still, I have use for weapons, as well. Living, and otherwise. So what say you, Orrin Halgren. Shall I make a weapon of you?"
Orrin inhaled sharply then exhaled slowly "What makes you think I'll ever serve you? Turn against Nihka, Anstarra?" He remains at a distance "You made your first mistake against me a year ago, your second when your rabid dogs for huntresses brutalized my friends. Assuming I'll ever align my cause with you is your third and last."
X'zarann smirksed, a satisfied gleam entering his eyes, as though he already scored a point. "Ah, not mute after all." He tilted his head. "Do not speak to me as though your people have never committed any atrocities. I visited one of the dungeons in your magnificent city of Ishgard. Such glory, standing astride such maleficence. The hypocrisy of it veritably took my breath away. Would you deny that cruelty exists in every society, at one strata or another? Would you deny that it serves a purpose?" He shakes his head. "No. One such as you would not be so naive. Some of my huntresses are cruel, yes... but it serves a purpose yet." He tilted his head the other way then swished his tail. A smile wrote itself on his lips. "As to the other... it is gratifying to know that I was correct. That it was you, who my Fallen took the Wyrmtear from. Are you angry, at such theft? You, who had to commit murder to even claim the relic in the first place?"
Orrin would be staring daggers were it not for the unblinking red eyes of his messail masking his expression. "Shows how little you know, I had shed no blood for that tear. That cursed relic should have met its end back then, its only existence will cause more bloodshed." He said "Though not that you care, I've seen your sort before, rule by fear and misinformation. You call outsiders weak and yet cling to their weapons. A storm shall come, X'zarann, one that will claim your tribe, and they shall know it was a calamity brought by your hands."
X'zarann barked a laugh. "Then you are a thief yourself! For the tear's origins lie in blood. And one who is meant to take it, is intended to use it; one who would simply destroy it is not intended to own it. And you speak of bloodshed as though it were some terrible thing. As if this weapon has not drunk rivers' worth." He lifted Orrin's spear, holding it parallel to the ground. "Anyroad, make no mistake. Outsiders, as a rule, ARE weak... but clever. After all, it was Outsiders who made us, made my people strong in the first place. Made us strong enough to escape our enslavement to them… so, clever, but perhaps not wise. To wit..."
He flipped Orrin's spear in the air. It spuns, in a tight, gleaming blur. Orrin watched his weapon soar through the air, though a half glance was kept on X'zarann, half expecting it to be a distraction. The spear drove head down into the stone, in the middle of the pool. Orrin growls "That blade was put away a millennium ago, only now has it been drawn to smite those deserving." He says walking towards it. "Shows what you know. The tear is born of hatred, it corrupts and does nothing else. It is relic of an era past." he neared his weapon "And in the past it should remain!" he said, reaching for his weapon. He'd pry it out of the ground and brandish it towards X'zarann in a single extended arm, grip just halfway down the haft. Orrin grits his teeth, he can still feel the wound just below his chest shooting a shock of pain up the length of his shoulder and arm. "You can't control it, no one can! Better men than you have tried! You'll be a thrall, out of control, you’ll destroy your own sept with it, if you even care for it.â€
X'zarann laughed, low and long, a growling, rolling sound as he slowly brandished and wheeled his own advanced spear. "And that shows what you know, Dragoon." Gracefully, holding his weapon pointed out in extension with the butt behind his back, he cocked his head up. "There are no better men than me. There are no men like me, at all. Come. Let me show you."
Orrin's fully extended arm with his spear drew back in a spinning flourish over his head before resting behind him, spear hanging low at half stance "Even if I fall, others shall come." he then brought his weapon properly in front of him in Ishgardian Lancer style. "Is this what you wanted? Why I'm a prisoner instead of a skull on a heap like so many others?"
"And what if it is?" X'zarann grinned, showing his teeth brightly. "Is it so strange? That I would wish to test my skills against a formidable Warrior? Who held seven of my hunters and huntresses at bay on his own, including one of my Warlords. Who, if the rumors are true, fought against a Primal…alongside my sister." His eyes gleamed brightly, fiercely. "Will you tell me you are not curious? To know how you may fare against me? Surely you have heard tales of me, by now, from Anista if nowhere else. I value power, and skill, and challenges. To fight only the weak is to stagnate."
"You risk dispelling your claim to godhood?" He said digging in his stance, steeling himself "so be it"
X'zarann laughs, and whirled his own spear in a tight arc, warming up his muscles and loosening for a fight. "If you give me enough of a challenge, I will show you the power of the Radiance. For now though, let us see..." As he did his warm up Orrin sparred no time and leaps into the air in a high arc, upon cresting, PSHOOM, like a spear of light he rockets down to clash with X'zarran with strikes that clearly intended to be fatal
X'zarann whipped his spear up to parry. It was a motion remarkable not only for its raw skill, but also for the expertise in which fought against the favored weapon of his tribe. There was a bright, ringing clash of arms and X'zarann skidded back a fulm. He looked back at the small cut on his arm he grinned fiercely. "Ahh yes! I knew you would make this fun!" he said before lunging viciously!
Orrin’s eyes then widen suddenly as the Miqo'te lunged at him with speed, He barely deflected the thrust with a powerful counter swing of his spear crosswise which of course sent a jolt of pain from his chest, up his shoulder and down the length of the arm, bordering on tingling and numbness. "ngh.." He stepped forward past X’zarann to roll with the strike and round to face the Nunh. Orrin then charged, as he does so the aether coalesced around him, a draconic roar born of the aether itself as the phantom scales warped around him in azure hue. X'zarann's eyes sharpened as Orrin invoked a power he only heard of. Orrin approached with another vicious thrust aimed at center mass only to have X’zarann whip his spear fiercely downwards, driving Orrin’s attack down into the stone; the ground explodes around the terrible, uncontrolled impact, sending shards of crystalline rock in all directions.
"Haha… what amazing gall you have, calling me out for wanting to use the power of dragons for my own! I'll agree with X'indro. Outsiders are endlessly entertaining!" Teeth bared, he shifted to the side and lunged, using Orrin’s own momentum to add to the speed, his advanced lance coming in like a comet.
"What this is, is /our/ curse, our cross to bear!" he said with anger, deflecting the lunge upwards, rearing his lance back for a counter thrust, digging his feet into the ground. Though Orrin fully expected him to swing downward in a block. Properly grounded Orrin rocketed off the ground and with the newfound aethereal power. The Nunh blocked air and by the time he could look up Orrin was already descending upon him like a Levin bolt from above, weapon bearing down upon X’zarann in an overhead slam. He recoiled from the ferocious blow, a cross wise block that caught the spear head on the shaft over his head. His legs buckled below the strike before redirecting Orrin off to the side, sending him into a roll across the ground.
"Yes... now I begin to see how you stood up to my Warriors! I was right to face you myself. Now let me show you some of the mastery of the Nunh!" He clenched his fist on his lance, and there seems to almost be a shimmering of light in the air, a halo of sublime force. When X’zarran lunged with his lance this time it was with no frills, only vastly increased speed.
Orrin had only gotten back to his feet and his eyes widened “too fast†he thought and in desperation he brings his weapon up to defend but only managed to prevent it from running him through. The parry directed it into his shoulder instead. He grunted in pain and tried to channel it. With spear still lodged in him, Orrin struck with his own with the one good arm, aimed at the Nunh’s gut.
X'zarann clicked his tongue as he ably, swiftly defended against the blow, pulling the spear out of the now mangled pauldron with inhuman speed, crossing their weapons pinning Orrin in place for a moment as X’zarann met his gaze with his own. "Your injuries slow you. You are powerful, stronger than your own body can encompass. Do you not tire? Of being weaker than you deserve? Of drowning in your own might? Surrender, and I will FREE you of your shackles!" His eyes gleamed with luminescence, his words carrying weight, force…he effect similar to how his attack was empowered, only now, it was his words...
Orrin could feel the truth to the Nunh’s words, but his mind would not falter where his aging body would break. Orrin growled back in response "I am strong enough!" the aether swelled, the roar rising in volume. He broke the deadlock on might alone, deftly he parried another entangling strike from X’zarran, knocking the glowing weapon wide, exposing the Nunh’s chest. Orrin gripped his weapon with both hands and thrusted the attack came in fierce and powerful it drove home, right into X'zarann's chest. The horrid sound of flesh and bone torn and cracking rung out. The Nunh looked at him wide eyed... and then laughed, the sound resonating, Light rose from within him. "Oh, you are strong, yes." He gripped the spear and jerked it out, leaving a hole without blood... which filled with light, leaving only unbroken flesh behind when it subsided. "But not strong enough." Orrin’s assault is given pause by the sight of X’zarann shrugging off a blow that would put down any man. “I had to see it for myself…†Orrin reared his weapon back into ready position but then winces, the draconic aether that surrounded him seemed to flare, licking at his flesh like flames at a pyre, trying to consume his form “No…not nowâ€
X’zarran stepped back, baring his teeth, and flourishes his hand; in it, there was the gleam of a trio of materia. "Let me show you my own... inherited might." He pitched the spheres into his open mouth and blinding, electric, flaring energy bursted from him. It coursed through his veins, floods his eyes, and he seemed to swell, to practically float with the awesome power roiling inside him. Orrin tried to shake off the roiling rage of his inner dragon and resumes his attack but
X'zarann parried so quickly. Nihka's words come back to mention now, faster than Orrin could see, impossibly strong... there was no flourish, no splash or dash in his moves, they are sharp, frame-perfect, and backed with literally godlike power. The clashing parry forced Orrin to /recoil/ with the impact... and X’zarann followed it with a strike almost too quick to comprehend.
Orrin had barely gotten his footing back from the strike when he sensed X’zarann’s approach. Orrin lets out a gasp, on reflex he brought his weapon crosswise, catching one of the tines on that ornate magitek spear on the shaft on the weapon. His extended arms buckle, a shot of pain shooting through his chest as he felt his collarbone nearly fracture, under the force his shoulders tried to bare. He was pushed back several fulms from the strike. He gritted his teeth, white knuckle grip upon his weapon. Nearly dropping to one knee he holds against the assault.
Orrin shunted aside the spear, panting, heaving, Blood was pooling seeping through his scales near the wound he sustained earlier. His vision blurred, he could not discern if the three Nunh’s he saw were real or not. "Not here, not like this..." he pants and growls "Your power, Millette, I need more..." he says, his hold on his weapon wavering. Then suddenly there was humongous flaring of aether, almost blindingly so. One would expect to see aetherial blade to form followed by a series of destructive slashes to be wrought upon X’zarann but instead the energy petered out. As the light faded Orrin fell to his knees and then backwards sitting upon his legs, letting go of his weapon, letting clatter to the ground as head back.
X'zarann stood, blazing with power, his features somehow more remote, implacable... perfected behind the veil of deific might. He stepped forward and lifted his spear. Light seems to gather on the tip, as he pressed it to Orrin's brow... saying something, though his words are a fog, but theirs is a terrible weight of meaning... and then all is darkness.
________________________________________________________________
"Ah, he awakens...â€The face that greeted Orrin isn't one he recognizes, and yet is familiar soon came understanding, if not comprehension. For the face was Ishgardian. Or the man's clothes were, anyroad. They were the clothes of a chirurgeon of House Haillenarte. "You had us worried, ser."
Orrin sat up, or at least tried to. It was that sort of sudden rising that came from combat being the last thing one sees.
"Pray, my lord, your injuries!" The man protested, gently trying to usher Orrin back into a prone position. "You're safe here, though it's the Fury's own grace that you were found in time. Left in a snowbank to die, it seemed, and one of our patrolmen had the fortune of spotting you before you froze to death. We've been warming and treating you for two days now."
He blinked "Left to die..?" he leaned back into the infirmary bed, it was a familiar feeling. "That makes no sense, he mutters. Trying to recall the moments before he lost consciousness. Those last moments.. the heat of combat, with the blazing draconic rage filling his consciousness.. then a terrible burning as X'zarann's lance touched his brow.. the sharp pain of sudden migraine drives it all away for the moment. He clenched his teeth and held his head with his right arm, exhaling and inhaling through his mouth almost in a snarl. He laid back down. "My weapon, my armor, where are they?"
"Your arms and armor are here, my lord. Right there." He pointed off to the side, where indeed Orrin's raiment has been set up on a stand in the proper manner. He moved away for a moment, and returned with a bowl of broth. "Please, drink this. You must recover your strength."
He reached for the bowl, drinking in deep the broth. Soon enough it was drained of its contents and he rested on his back. "Thank you." he sighed and closed his eyes, it was a fitful slumber.
Apologies for the serial posts.
The older Miqo’te male led the way through the tunnels. He set a solid, unhurried pace. Orrin and X’ogun came out onto a larger cross-tunnel. Here and there, other Warriors and Clipped were going about, though any and all who came anywhere close stepped respectfully out of the way of Orrin, or, more likely, his escort. The place was dim, gleaming, and cold. Down the main path, and further, and then into a widening space set up like a room. Here there were carpets, divans and a chair in the middle. In the middle of the room, laid out on the carpets was Orrin's armor.
Across the room the tunnel continued and by its mouth stood a strangely-familiar huntress. The huntress stood, ponytail draped over her shoulder, watching Orrin with that cat-like regard many of them affected. Her yellow eyes and general appearance tickled some recollection. Orrin’s gaze drifted on the oddly familiar huntress first, though his focus is drawn to the armor on display.
"Go on, boy, get dressed. The Nunh is finishing His meeting." The male waited nearby, giving a nod to the huntress, who nods back, with equal depth.
Orrin blinked and moved towards his armor. The male Miqo’te pulled out a small pocketbook and began to read, while the female simply kept watching Orrin. He first reached for the scaled skin-tight suit that made the majority of his armor, he expected a deep tear just under the left pectoral, a wound from the battle before but found it curiously repaired, it looked near pristine. His grip tightened about the suit but eventually he slips it on. Click. Clack. Snap. After the scale mail under suit was on he made quick work to affix his gauntlets, boots, pauldrons, the mechanized armor fitting and tightening with a metallic ring. He had learned to don the much bulkier Drachen Mail without a squire and had done the motions so many times, so often in times of crisis that it had become second nature. The much lighter and older dragonlancer armor was nothing in comparison. The huntress, waited until he is done dressing up fully. Her stance iwas almost statue-like, her tail not even moving, her eyes the only thing that shifted even a little as he prepared himself.
He was fully garbed just in time for X'indro to amble out of the corridor ahead, the same corridor where the Nunh was supposed to be. His crystalline pink eyes lit up and he grinned as he saw the Dragoon. "Hey, it's my Outsider. He didn't heal up so badly, did he, Vurr?" He grins at the huntress, who more or less ignored him. Then looked at the older man. "Ogun too? Two Fallen for one prisoner, interesting..." His tail swished, and he strutted on by. "Well, have a nice meeting~"
The girl, X'vurr, nods. "The Nunh will see you now." Her voice is familiar too, yet not, weirdly-so... When she moves in order to lead the way, it's almost jarring. She goes slightly ahead of him, down the passageway.
Orrin’s gaze continued to hold on the huntress before donning his helm and walking forward. His armored footsteps upon the cave interior sounding out loudly, echoing, announcing his presence far before anything could possibly come in sight. Orrin himself followed quietly without a word, looking, scanning the walls. At this point, there were no other paths; the passage went on a little while, before ending in a larger chamber. This one had comparatively little in it for its size. Some fifty fulms across and thirty high, the ground dipped down from the entrance, giving the chamber the impression of a shallow bowl. In the middle, the impression was reinforced by a pool of clear water some ten fulms across, still and glittering in the crystalline light. Standing on the far edge, regarding his reflection, was a man who could only be X'zarann.
The resemblence to Anstarra was discernible. A little taller, broader in the shoulder and more visibly muscular, he had the same fine features and physical flawlessness, the same green eyes, the same relaxed and confident-looking smirk, as if thinking of something mildly pleasant. His garb was not what Orrin would expect from a tribal. He had a fine sort of breastplate, which was cloaked with spiked shoulders. His hair was long, spilling below the shoulder; a few locks strayed over his face.
Planted point-first into the ground to either side of him, were a pair of spears. One was Orrin's, the ancient forked spear that came from a time before Ishgard, before the war. The other is a curious, technologically-advanced-looking thing, with a design reminiscent of Allagan style, or perhaps Garlean. Magitek, at the least.
Orrin walked forward, his footsteps continuing to echo out in the large chamber. He spied his weapon by the man's side and narrowed his gaze behind the visor. He halted at the far end of his side of the arena.
X’zarann looked up as Orrin approaches. His gaze was not very much like Anstarra's. It burned with... something. Ambition, perhaps, arrogance, certainly, and a potential for cruelty, though An was hardly innocent of that. There was an edge to his physical beauty that was doubtlessly devastatingly alluring, to those attracted to such.
"Ah, there you are. I trust you have found the accommodations.. Apropriately comfortable."
Orrin remained silent, waiting at the opposite end of the basin, arms at either side stoically. Though his body language suggested a preparedness, as if were X'zarran to lug a lance at him he would be ready to move.
The Nunh smirked lightly, and grasps Orrin's spear, jerking it free of the stone. "A fine weapon." He twirled it ably in his fingers, sliding it down one hand so as to examine the tip. "It is said a Warrior can be judged by their spear. Has it been used? Does it remain sharp? Where are the nicks in the length, those markings that show how desperate their defense." He grasped it below the head, and sets the butt down before him, point-up.
Orrin tensed when X'zarann dare touched his weapon. His right hand closed into a tight fist, the metal of his clawed gauntlet rattling.
"I have wondered if that remained true of Outsiders. You whose weapons are made in foundries by…craftsmen, who rarely - if ever - wield a weapon themselves. It did not seem likely…and yet in my travels, I have often been impressed by what Outsiders have managed to accomplish. Such feats of engineering, of innovation." His other hand plucked up the other weapon, twirling it and setting it down in his other fist, in a mirror of Orrin's. It glowed softly.
"Above all else, I have sought to understand how things work. Power, artifice.. aether, magic. Cleverness and artistry, I find myself compelled to understand it. Do you know what I mean?"
Still, he remained silent, the helm's visor hiding his eyes and mouth, betraying no emotion through his face. He stands at the other side, maintaining the distance between him and X’zarann
X'zarann laughs softly, then smirks. "Ah, but what am I saying? How could you understand? Just looking at you, I can see you have as much profundity as this pool." Orrin glanced down, it was easy to discern now that the water that skirted the basin was only a few ilm at its deepest. "I might as well talk to your spear. From what my Warlord tells me, you speak far more eloquentl with it than without." He flashes his teeth in a grin. "Alas that the irony is likely lost upon you. How your kind loves to condescend mine, seeing us as only simple killers. Yet if you would glance upon your reflection..." He shrugs. "Still, I have use for weapons, as well. Living, and otherwise. So what say you, Orrin Halgren. Shall I make a weapon of you?"
Orrin inhaled sharply then exhaled slowly "What makes you think I'll ever serve you? Turn against Nihka, Anstarra?" He remains at a distance "You made your first mistake against me a year ago, your second when your rabid dogs for huntresses brutalized my friends. Assuming I'll ever align my cause with you is your third and last."
X'zarann smirksed, a satisfied gleam entering his eyes, as though he already scored a point. "Ah, not mute after all." He tilted his head. "Do not speak to me as though your people have never committed any atrocities. I visited one of the dungeons in your magnificent city of Ishgard. Such glory, standing astride such maleficence. The hypocrisy of it veritably took my breath away. Would you deny that cruelty exists in every society, at one strata or another? Would you deny that it serves a purpose?" He shakes his head. "No. One such as you would not be so naive. Some of my huntresses are cruel, yes... but it serves a purpose yet." He tilted his head the other way then swished his tail. A smile wrote itself on his lips. "As to the other... it is gratifying to know that I was correct. That it was you, who my Fallen took the Wyrmtear from. Are you angry, at such theft? You, who had to commit murder to even claim the relic in the first place?"
Orrin would be staring daggers were it not for the unblinking red eyes of his messail masking his expression. "Shows how little you know, I had shed no blood for that tear. That cursed relic should have met its end back then, its only existence will cause more bloodshed." He said "Though not that you care, I've seen your sort before, rule by fear and misinformation. You call outsiders weak and yet cling to their weapons. A storm shall come, X'zarann, one that will claim your tribe, and they shall know it was a calamity brought by your hands."
X'zarann barked a laugh. "Then you are a thief yourself! For the tear's origins lie in blood. And one who is meant to take it, is intended to use it; one who would simply destroy it is not intended to own it. And you speak of bloodshed as though it were some terrible thing. As if this weapon has not drunk rivers' worth." He lifted Orrin's spear, holding it parallel to the ground. "Anyroad, make no mistake. Outsiders, as a rule, ARE weak... but clever. After all, it was Outsiders who made us, made my people strong in the first place. Made us strong enough to escape our enslavement to them… so, clever, but perhaps not wise. To wit..."
He flipped Orrin's spear in the air. It spuns, in a tight, gleaming blur. Orrin watched his weapon soar through the air, though a half glance was kept on X'zarann, half expecting it to be a distraction. The spear drove head down into the stone, in the middle of the pool. Orrin growls "That blade was put away a millennium ago, only now has it been drawn to smite those deserving." He says walking towards it. "Shows what you know. The tear is born of hatred, it corrupts and does nothing else. It is relic of an era past." he neared his weapon "And in the past it should remain!" he said, reaching for his weapon. He'd pry it out of the ground and brandish it towards X'zarann in a single extended arm, grip just halfway down the haft. Orrin grits his teeth, he can still feel the wound just below his chest shooting a shock of pain up the length of his shoulder and arm. "You can't control it, no one can! Better men than you have tried! You'll be a thrall, out of control, you’ll destroy your own sept with it, if you even care for it.â€
X'zarann laughed, low and long, a growling, rolling sound as he slowly brandished and wheeled his own advanced spear. "And that shows what you know, Dragoon." Gracefully, holding his weapon pointed out in extension with the butt behind his back, he cocked his head up. "There are no better men than me. There are no men like me, at all. Come. Let me show you."
Orrin's fully extended arm with his spear drew back in a spinning flourish over his head before resting behind him, spear hanging low at half stance "Even if I fall, others shall come." he then brought his weapon properly in front of him in Ishgardian Lancer style. "Is this what you wanted? Why I'm a prisoner instead of a skull on a heap like so many others?"
"And what if it is?" X'zarann grinned, showing his teeth brightly. "Is it so strange? That I would wish to test my skills against a formidable Warrior? Who held seven of my hunters and huntresses at bay on his own, including one of my Warlords. Who, if the rumors are true, fought against a Primal…alongside my sister." His eyes gleamed brightly, fiercely. "Will you tell me you are not curious? To know how you may fare against me? Surely you have heard tales of me, by now, from Anista if nowhere else. I value power, and skill, and challenges. To fight only the weak is to stagnate."
"You risk dispelling your claim to godhood?" He said digging in his stance, steeling himself "so be it"
X'zarann laughs, and whirled his own spear in a tight arc, warming up his muscles and loosening for a fight. "If you give me enough of a challenge, I will show you the power of the Radiance. For now though, let us see..." As he did his warm up Orrin sparred no time and leaps into the air in a high arc, upon cresting, PSHOOM, like a spear of light he rockets down to clash with X'zarran with strikes that clearly intended to be fatal
X'zarann whipped his spear up to parry. It was a motion remarkable not only for its raw skill, but also for the expertise in which fought against the favored weapon of his tribe. There was a bright, ringing clash of arms and X'zarann skidded back a fulm. He looked back at the small cut on his arm he grinned fiercely. "Ahh yes! I knew you would make this fun!" he said before lunging viciously!
Orrin’s eyes then widen suddenly as the Miqo'te lunged at him with speed, He barely deflected the thrust with a powerful counter swing of his spear crosswise which of course sent a jolt of pain from his chest, up his shoulder and down the length of the arm, bordering on tingling and numbness. "ngh.." He stepped forward past X’zarann to roll with the strike and round to face the Nunh. Orrin then charged, as he does so the aether coalesced around him, a draconic roar born of the aether itself as the phantom scales warped around him in azure hue. X'zarann's eyes sharpened as Orrin invoked a power he only heard of. Orrin approached with another vicious thrust aimed at center mass only to have X’zarann whip his spear fiercely downwards, driving Orrin’s attack down into the stone; the ground explodes around the terrible, uncontrolled impact, sending shards of crystalline rock in all directions.
"Haha… what amazing gall you have, calling me out for wanting to use the power of dragons for my own! I'll agree with X'indro. Outsiders are endlessly entertaining!" Teeth bared, he shifted to the side and lunged, using Orrin’s own momentum to add to the speed, his advanced lance coming in like a comet.
"What this is, is /our/ curse, our cross to bear!" he said with anger, deflecting the lunge upwards, rearing his lance back for a counter thrust, digging his feet into the ground. Though Orrin fully expected him to swing downward in a block. Properly grounded Orrin rocketed off the ground and with the newfound aethereal power. The Nunh blocked air and by the time he could look up Orrin was already descending upon him like a Levin bolt from above, weapon bearing down upon X’zarann in an overhead slam. He recoiled from the ferocious blow, a cross wise block that caught the spear head on the shaft over his head. His legs buckled below the strike before redirecting Orrin off to the side, sending him into a roll across the ground.
"Yes... now I begin to see how you stood up to my Warriors! I was right to face you myself. Now let me show you some of the mastery of the Nunh!" He clenched his fist on his lance, and there seems to almost be a shimmering of light in the air, a halo of sublime force. When X’zarran lunged with his lance this time it was with no frills, only vastly increased speed.
Orrin had only gotten back to his feet and his eyes widened “too fast†he thought and in desperation he brings his weapon up to defend but only managed to prevent it from running him through. The parry directed it into his shoulder instead. He grunted in pain and tried to channel it. With spear still lodged in him, Orrin struck with his own with the one good arm, aimed at the Nunh’s gut.
X'zarann clicked his tongue as he ably, swiftly defended against the blow, pulling the spear out of the now mangled pauldron with inhuman speed, crossing their weapons pinning Orrin in place for a moment as X’zarann met his gaze with his own. "Your injuries slow you. You are powerful, stronger than your own body can encompass. Do you not tire? Of being weaker than you deserve? Of drowning in your own might? Surrender, and I will FREE you of your shackles!" His eyes gleamed with luminescence, his words carrying weight, force…he effect similar to how his attack was empowered, only now, it was his words...
Orrin could feel the truth to the Nunh’s words, but his mind would not falter where his aging body would break. Orrin growled back in response "I am strong enough!" the aether swelled, the roar rising in volume. He broke the deadlock on might alone, deftly he parried another entangling strike from X’zarran, knocking the glowing weapon wide, exposing the Nunh’s chest. Orrin gripped his weapon with both hands and thrusted the attack came in fierce and powerful it drove home, right into X'zarann's chest. The horrid sound of flesh and bone torn and cracking rung out. The Nunh looked at him wide eyed... and then laughed, the sound resonating, Light rose from within him. "Oh, you are strong, yes." He gripped the spear and jerked it out, leaving a hole without blood... which filled with light, leaving only unbroken flesh behind when it subsided. "But not strong enough." Orrin’s assault is given pause by the sight of X’zarann shrugging off a blow that would put down any man. “I had to see it for myself…†Orrin reared his weapon back into ready position but then winces, the draconic aether that surrounded him seemed to flare, licking at his flesh like flames at a pyre, trying to consume his form “No…not nowâ€
X’zarran stepped back, baring his teeth, and flourishes his hand; in it, there was the gleam of a trio of materia. "Let me show you my own... inherited might." He pitched the spheres into his open mouth and blinding, electric, flaring energy bursted from him. It coursed through his veins, floods his eyes, and he seemed to swell, to practically float with the awesome power roiling inside him. Orrin tried to shake off the roiling rage of his inner dragon and resumes his attack but
X'zarann parried so quickly. Nihka's words come back to mention now, faster than Orrin could see, impossibly strong... there was no flourish, no splash or dash in his moves, they are sharp, frame-perfect, and backed with literally godlike power. The clashing parry forced Orrin to /recoil/ with the impact... and X’zarann followed it with a strike almost too quick to comprehend.
Orrin had barely gotten his footing back from the strike when he sensed X’zarann’s approach. Orrin lets out a gasp, on reflex he brought his weapon crosswise, catching one of the tines on that ornate magitek spear on the shaft on the weapon. His extended arms buckle, a shot of pain shooting through his chest as he felt his collarbone nearly fracture, under the force his shoulders tried to bare. He was pushed back several fulms from the strike. He gritted his teeth, white knuckle grip upon his weapon. Nearly dropping to one knee he holds against the assault.
Orrin shunted aside the spear, panting, heaving, Blood was pooling seeping through his scales near the wound he sustained earlier. His vision blurred, he could not discern if the three Nunh’s he saw were real or not. "Not here, not like this..." he pants and growls "Your power, Millette, I need more..." he says, his hold on his weapon wavering. Then suddenly there was humongous flaring of aether, almost blindingly so. One would expect to see aetherial blade to form followed by a series of destructive slashes to be wrought upon X’zarann but instead the energy petered out. As the light faded Orrin fell to his knees and then backwards sitting upon his legs, letting go of his weapon, letting clatter to the ground as head back.
X'zarann stood, blazing with power, his features somehow more remote, implacable... perfected behind the veil of deific might. He stepped forward and lifted his spear. Light seems to gather on the tip, as he pressed it to Orrin's brow... saying something, though his words are a fog, but theirs is a terrible weight of meaning... and then all is darkness.
________________________________________________________________
"Ah, he awakens...â€The face that greeted Orrin isn't one he recognizes, and yet is familiar soon came understanding, if not comprehension. For the face was Ishgardian. Or the man's clothes were, anyroad. They were the clothes of a chirurgeon of House Haillenarte. "You had us worried, ser."
Orrin sat up, or at least tried to. It was that sort of sudden rising that came from combat being the last thing one sees.
"Pray, my lord, your injuries!" The man protested, gently trying to usher Orrin back into a prone position. "You're safe here, though it's the Fury's own grace that you were found in time. Left in a snowbank to die, it seemed, and one of our patrolmen had the fortune of spotting you before you froze to death. We've been warming and treating you for two days now."
He blinked "Left to die..?" he leaned back into the infirmary bed, it was a familiar feeling. "That makes no sense, he mutters. Trying to recall the moments before he lost consciousness. Those last moments.. the heat of combat, with the blazing draconic rage filling his consciousness.. then a terrible burning as X'zarann's lance touched his brow.. the sharp pain of sudden migraine drives it all away for the moment. He clenched his teeth and held his head with his right arm, exhaling and inhaling through his mouth almost in a snarl. He laid back down. "My weapon, my armor, where are they?"
"Your arms and armor are here, my lord. Right there." He pointed off to the side, where indeed Orrin's raiment has been set up on a stand in the proper manner. He moved away for a moment, and returned with a bowl of broth. "Please, drink this. You must recover your strength."
He reached for the bowl, drinking in deep the broth. Soon enough it was drained of its contents and he rested on his back. "Thank you." he sighed and closed his eyes, it was a fitful slumber.
RPC wiki! Leave rumors! https://wiki.ffxiv-roleplayers.com/pages/Orrin_Halgren
