finalflight | OPEN POST; [ LOUIS GUIABERN / METAPHOR: REFANTAZIO ]

[ Kieran has faith that Lucanis will be fine. He didn't come by the reputation as the Demon of Vyrantium, fearsome mage killer, by letting a little lightning get the better of him. He's quick to get out of the way, a flurry of darkness and otherworldly motes of light.

For their part, Kieran keeps their blade locked with Louis', giving Lucanis time to try and get around to the man's flank. ]

It really doesn't have to be this way, you know! We're trying to help you!

[Unfortunately, reason is not reaching him in these moments. Fortunately, Louis is unlikely to keep this up for much longer, given his current state.]

I don't need your help!

[The lightning is a no-go, but what about a huge gust of fearsome wind that rushes out in a blast radius around him as he clenches his hand into a fist? The magical equivalent of trying to fling a buzzing gnat away.]

[ The wind works quite well, pushing both Lucanis and Kieran away. The assassin gets buffeted back against a wall while Kiran jams their sword into the ground to keep themself from flying too far. ]

The hard way it is, then.

[ With a grunt of effort, they pull themself to their feet, the blade in their hands twisting with green energy until it takes the shape of a different weapon altogether - a scythe, glowing sickly green and coursing with shadow. They swing the weapon in a low arc, the blade kicking up a wave of green crystals as it skims the ground. About four or five shards of crystal go flying at Louis, streaking for his limbs, his torso. Nowhere fatal, but hopefully enough to put him out of commission. ]

[He wonders what manner of magic it is, dimly, as the sword changes to a scythe. Perhaps it's this notion, fleeting as it is in the moment, that hammers home the fact that he is far, far from the Euchronia that he knows and recalls — but the thought is tossed aside as the crystals suddenly come flying at him.

Again, Louis twists his body to avoid one embedding in his sword arm, but it's about the best he can do in his state. He hasn't even the time to summon up another round of magic before he earns two more in his torso. The pain carves through him and makes him crumple to his knees, face twisted up in pain.]

Urgh- You-

[ The scythe twists back into a blade as quickly as it had changed in the first place, though Kieran still keeps their weapon at the ready. ]

Let's try this again.

[ Said as they close in from one side, and Lucanis from the other, both of them tense and ready for more magic or worse. ]

Who are you? And what are you doing here?

[Damn it, what a wretched blow to his pride, already shattered to pieces. What a state to be in, weakened and defeated yet again, and in more than half of the time on this occasion. Louis burns with anger and something far more foreign to him — a bleak, all-encompassing shame.

Still, he glares daggers at both of them as they approach, but makes no further move other than to tense his fingers around his sword hilt again.]

My name is Louis Charadrius- [he says it with aplomb and pride, as though it would salvage whatever he has left at this point] -and I do not know why I am here! Did you not listen? I am meant to be in the Euchronian skies!

[ Oh, don't worry (or do), Lucanis has his eyes on Louis' sword arm. One twitch, and it's likely not to end well. ]

You don't get to chide me for not listening, when I tried to explain to you where you were and you attacked us.

[ A beat. ]

Do the names Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain mean anything to you?

What?

[Hint number one that, no, he has never heard of such strange names.]

No. Should they?

[ The sheer bafflement in his voice is enough for Kieran to believe him. Some people, present company included, might call that too trusting, but Kieran figures even a skilled liar would show some sign of recognition. ]

Well, that rules out direct involvement from the gods, at least.

[ Or, at least, involvement Louis was aware of.

Green eyes flick to the sword still clenched in one of Louis' hands. ]

Are you going to put that away or am I going to need to take it from you?

[Gods? What sort of gods have gibberish names like that? Despite himself and his position, Louis scoffs. He tries to straighten if allowed for it; hand not moving from his sword, but making no move to use it, either.]

You'll have to take it.

[Such as his pride dictates. Using it or not, he will not be unarmed willingly. (Thankfully, that won't be hard to do.)]

[ Elven ones, of course.

But that’s beside the point, for now. Louis is allowed to stand, but Lucanis is quick to step up behind him, dagger at the ready. ]

Alright then.

[ Take his sword they shall. Kieran reaches for the blade with a gauntleted hand, tugging it from the man’s grip to tuck into their own belt alongside their usual weapon. They won’t bother asking if he can walk – he seems the prideful sort, so Kieran won’t push – and instead turns to head into one of the Necropolis’ cavernous halls. If ever there were a sign that Louis isn’t where he’s supposed to be, all the Navarran architecture is probably it. ]

This way.

OPEN POST; [ LOUIS GUIABERN / METAPHOR: REFANTAZIO ]

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