The meeting hall held perhaps three score tarnished. Warriors, wizards, rangers, fighters of every variety had come to the festival to test their might against the great general Radahn. Over the heads of the other Tarnished, Owain saw Jerren and Blaidd attempting to bring about some order to the gathering. He tried to be gentle as he pushed his way through and thankfully most made way for him.
Once at Blaidd's side, he took in the faces of those nearest. Some earnest, most not; all were being over loud. The sentinel had left his shield with Ranni, but his spear he slammed several times against the stone floor, careful not to break the stone. "Silence!" He thundered. Owain continued when at last he could hear himself think. "I know that this was planned to be a festival to send Lord Radahn to a glorious death. Things have changed; it is now an effort to save him from such a fate. Should you have no interest in such a thing, pray, leave now."
A cacophony of angry voices rang out even as tarnished streamed from the room. In but a few minutes of bickering, the room had emptied to only a group of perhaps ten. One, a deadly looking man with a mask of a wizened face, slammed a gloved fist against the war table. "Who are you to decide that I can not test my blade against Radahn to true death?"
Owain raised a hand at Blaidd's intended interjection; it was not an unfair question. It was likely that many of these tarnished had traveled from far afield for just such an opportunity. "I am Owain, Lord Commander of the Tree Sentinels, Highlord of Leyndell's armies. Consort to Ranni, sister of Lord Radahn. Name yourself, warrior."
"I am Okina, sword master." The man's voice was derisive, reedy and manic. "I was promised the blood and battle of the mightest of demi-gods; have you the strength to deny me it?" The swordsman laid a hand casually against the hilt of his blade.
The remaining tarnished began to mutter. Owain frowned behind his visor, this man was making it difficult to be polite. "This will be an errand of rescue, not death, Okina; sword master. I have spoken."
Okina began to make his way to Owain slowly, with the few tarnished between them backing to the walls. "And I have asked, do you have the strength to deny me what I have been promised." Owain nodded towards his back, that Jerren and Blaidd mind his rear.
He straightened, resting a hand against the spear that leant on his shoulder. "I've done you no discourtesy, Okina, but your words would be deemed a threat by many. Make it clear, are you challenging me?"
Okina halted before him, hand on hilt. The other tarnished had cleared a large circle. "Yes, Sentinel. Let us see whose edge is sharper." Owain sneered before sliding the heavy war table away with a hand, that they may have more space.
"This is hardly chivalrous!" Called a voice, a warrior jar whose arms were crossed in clear disapproval.
Owain nodded at him, he liked the jar-man already. "This man will not be denied his challenge, it is his right as a warrior to chose the end he so desires. We will reconvene this council when I am done." The warrior jar stepped back after a moment's pause.
His spear slid into his grip and his widened his stance. "Come then Okina, time for death."
"Only yours!" The man roared as he burst forth at a speed Owain had not expected.
The man's blade, a brilliant red, stabbed through the gap under his left shoulder, piercing deep. Owain roared at the wound, how careless! He brought his spear about only just in time to prevent a slash across his throat. Owain's movements were frustratingly sluggish, but not so slow as to cause him concern overmuch. As they matched a furious staccato of forceful blows, he could not get the color of the man's blade out of his mind.
It was so alike to that cretin, Nerijus! Was this Okina too, a supposed servant to Lord Mohg? Owain held back his strength, he needed to see if the swordsman would use blood magic before disarming him. It was not long until Owain's suspicions were proven true. Okina, seeing himself outmatched, began to struggle ever more desperately. He released a flurry of disgusting blood magic, the foul sprays sizzling against the gold of the sentinel's armor.
Fie! A servant of blood! Owain saw more red than just the glint of his foes blade. A deep, malevolent fury held tight his heart; the great rune? It did not matter, he must destroy, he must dominate any that would oppose him! He rushed forward, heedless of the slashing blade against his armor, gripping the swordsman's arms until he felt them shatter in his gauntlets. Okina cried out in pain but Owain was not done, he heaved him up against the stone wall by the front of his raggedy armor. This man too was from the land of reeds. "Speak gnat, whom do you serve?" Dust shook from the ceiling at the bass of his voice, but Owain hardly cared.
The gob of spit the man lobbed at him was caught on his own mask. "The lord of blood vowed to me demonhood! You'd best kill me before I achieve it, golden dog."
The heavy punch Owain sunk into the man's belly made Okina spit up bile. "Name him, fiend, name your lord!"
Okina made no noise save for rasping gasps for a few dreadful moments. "Luminary Mogh will-" Owain's fist impacted through the man's mask and skull both with enough force to blow a hole straight through the wall of the great hall. No! No! Alas! A third voice had named his lord Mohg as this 'lord of blood'. He bellowed out his frustration, flinging what blood and stone fragments he could from his gauntlet as the headless corpse dissolved to glittering dust.
He almost struck the wall again in anger before snatching back his hand. He was becoming far too overwrought, the rune was amplifying his emotions. Damnit! He should not have killed Okina, he might have given him useful knowledge. Owain growled out a long breath, he needed to calm down. "You alright, brother?" Came Blaidd's hesitant voice at his shoulder.
"A-a moment, Blaidd." Owin tried vainly to settle his breathing. His heart felt as if it had dropped from his chest. It was confirmed then. His Mohg; sweet, righteous , Mohg, was this Lord of Blood. There was no way three separate men had encountered any other by the same description. He forcefully released the fists that had formed in his focus. He would deal with this later, there were more immediate threats to handle for now. Owain wordlessly righted the war table, splaying his palms atop its smooth surface. "Those who would aid us, name yourselves."
The warrior jar that had spoken first placed a fist over his center. "The great Iron Fist Alexander; Warrior Jar! At your service, lord. I had hoped to face the great Radahn in glorious combat to either his death or mine, but this new quest is certainly noble! I am happy to lend my fists to it, whatever aid they may give."
Owain had finally slowed his ragged breath, he would need to be more mindful of this damn rune. "And your aid is most welcomed, noble warrior." Owain's eyes flicked to the next to step to the table, a broad shouldered man in intricate silver mail. The fur lining made Owain think perhaps he was from the north. "I am Vargrum. I too came to test my might. I too, am happy to aid in this quest."
"You too, are welcome then, Vargrum." Owain nodded.
After Okina's grisly death, only three others remained besides Blaidd and Jerren. One man, adorned in the roundest, heaviest armor Owain had ever seen stepped forward with a salute. "Lionel, the lionhearted! Hoping that I might aid the righting of these lands any way I can. I've heard tell of you from Lady Fia, Commander, I'd be honored to fight at your side!"
Owain actually smiled, he appreciated the man's altruistic nature. Hopefully Fia spoke of him positively. "The honor is ours, Lionel."
The last of the warriors, a towering man with armor of great horns, leaned his massive hammer against the wall before stepping forward. "Trogoth is the name. I seek to aid other Tarnished. You'll have my hammer."
"My thanks, Trogoth. I am reassured to have you on our side.
A woman, a finger maiden by the looks of it, walked forward hurriedly before delivering a polite bow, looking at him oddly. "I am Therolina. I seek my tarnished, I will provide what aid I can by means of bolstering spells. Also, if I may, you are bleeding quite heavily, lord. Please allow me to heal you."
He looked down at his reddened hand in surprise, how had he not noticed? "Apologies. Please, this aid and any for the battle will be much appreciated, Therolina. Perhaps after the battle I might assist you in your search." She bowed once more before walking over to quickly heal his arm with a powerful healing incantation.
By the end of the evening, the group of them had come up with a tentative plan to face Radahn in combat. Aside from he and Alexander, those who were not tarnished would stay back at the keep, Owain wanted Blaidd by Ranni's side, just in case; Therolina herself had confessed to be no warrior, and Jerren was long past his prime.
Aldo's forces had come upon a curious sword in one of the ruins they had cleared. It had very intensive sleep properties, and Owain intended to use it as the lynchpin to their entire strategy. If they could but induce Radahn into a magical slumber, Ranni would be able to maintain it. She was not proficient enough in sleep magic to incapacitate her brother from full wakefulness, but this sword would bridge the gap. Once enslumbered, they could secure Radahn properly and decide next steps.
Owain, Lionel, Trogoth, Alexander, and Vargram would go forth to meet Radahn in open battle. Therolina would incant as many spells as she was able to the warriors before they departed to the desert. Owain did not anticipate any premade combat strategies would survive contact with the mad demi-god, so he would command as he saw fit once they clashed in truth.
Ranni was uncharacteristically silent as she aided him out of his armor. Eyes lingering on the blood soaked into the arm of his undershirt. "I thought I bade thee to be careful, reckless man."
"You said to mind my manners, and I did." He said with a small smile, frowning when she dodged his kiss.
"Tell me, is it good manners to puncture clean, the walls of thine host?" Drat, she must have heard what happened from someone. Blaidd had slipped out early, that tattle tale!
"I lost my temper, I admit. The man is a professed follower of…of Lord Mohg."
"Ah." She laid a soft hand to his cheek. "I see it true now. Then thou'rt forgiven this time, Sunbeam."
Owain tried to muster a smile but found that he could not. "You are most gracious."
She frowned, thumbing his bottom lip contemplatively. "Let us bathe, thou needest rest." Owain followed obediently to their large washroom. One of Ranni's secret hobbies was singing in the bath. Normally, it would leave him feeling beyond contented, as she had a lovely voice. This night, it only half comforted him, he could not shake this lingering weariness.
A week's preparation later found him standing at the top of the lift that would bring him to the desert in which Radahn waited. The other Tarnished, as well as Therolina, awaited him at the bottom. He and Ranni were left a space apart whilst he assured her of his success. Ranni wrapped him in her arms, resting her head atop his. Owain stooped slightly with a smile, whispering against her slender throat. "Soon our family will regain another member, Ranni. Just you wait."
His princess pulled back, glittering eyes regarding him worriedly. "Be sure to keepeth that word." She kissed him passionately, fingers threading into the hair at his nape. Owain returned it with energy matched, he would never admit it to her, but he was unsure he would survive. They parted with a gasp. "There, a kiss so brazenly stolen must be returned, mine guiding light."
He smiled broadly, egads, was he ever so in love with her! "Be not afeard, I'll return it two fold, my brightest shining star." Her eyes were suspiciously wet as he turned to the lift.
Owain could see him just beyond the nearest sand dune. General Radahn, The Young Lion. Reduced to devouring corpses and crawling around the dust of his home. Owain started forward cautiously, shield and spear held in tight bound hands. The few tarnished that had accepted this heavy duty crept warily at his back. So many spells of strength, speed, vitality, and defense were layered upon him; he felt almost like his old self again. It was good that he bade Ranni stay back, good that they went forth without her. Let her watch and cast her spells from afar, he could never let Radahn harm his beloved little sister, even on accident.
The first purpled great arrow struck Owain's shield with such force he was fully lifted from the sand; flying up to skid back several feet. Aha, perhaps he'd forgotten just how mighty the demi-god was. "Careful now!" He shouted as they pushed forward, him taking up Radahn's attention. It took Owain several minutes of blocking, dodging, and vehemently swearing, to even get near enough to Radahn to regard him properly.
When at last he saw his lord brother's face, skin rotted, eyes feral; Owain almost gave into his despair. Could they really save him? Was there anything left to save? As Radahn let loose an earthshaking roar, Owain spotted Leonard between the man's legs. The sight gave him the resolve he needed to shout his own rallying charge. Radahn still held back the stars, he still treasured his horse; there was life in his brother yet! "To his flanks! Vargrum! Trogoth! Look for an opening, Alexander, Lionel!"
What followed was the harshest fighting Owain could recall facing. Each spell caught his shield felt as if it would shatter the bone. Each strike of his own that was blocked reverberated through his being entire. It was exhilarating. In their past, Radahn had faced him with equal parts power and control. Always minding his overwhelming strength. Now; now, it was twice the power, none of the control!
Owain lost himself in the thrill of combat. He'd yet to face an opponent of this caliber this second life. With Therolina's incantations, he felt like he could fight forever! He hardly noticed when the other tarnished fell; screams cut short, corpses sent asky. In a massive rain of sand, Radahn's blades sliced his great shield with such magnificent power that they lodged deep into its edge and sent him spinning in a large arch. Seeing an opportunity, Owain wrenched the blades from the ferocious man's hands, flinging his shield away.
His victory was short lived as Radahn caught his spear in a now free hand, ripping it from Owain in turn. With a furious bellow, he snapped the armament in his fists like one might break bread. His spear! Damnit! Owain leapt up at his lord brother with enough force to knock him from Leonard's back. It then turned into a frenzied contest of fists. Normally, Radahn stood nigh three heads taller than Owain, a fact the man enjoyed rubbing in his face. With the rot having taken his feet, he was forced to use gravity magic to keep himself upright. Just short enough that Owain could yet reach his snarling face.
Abruptly, the steady stream of healing and strengthening magic from Therolina was cut off. So, he was almost out of time then. His exhaustion caught up with him all at once and in the brief instant he dropped his guard, Radahn struck his helm with such force it was knocked far off and away into the sand. Owain spit out a few teeth as he frantically tried to keep up with Radahn's inhumane speed.
His armor was slowly being destroyed, the straps and buckles unable to withstand the constant barrage of attacks. First his pauldrons, then his chest and back plates, his gauntlets too broke from his bloody hands. Owain struck back with all the strength he could muster, doing goodly damage in turn to Radahn's own decaying set of armor. The two eventually fought bare chested, the sand beneath them turning a lurid red.
A few minutes more and he was losing his breath, his left eye was mostly closed shut and the blood that streamed from his head wound bubbled distractingly from burst lips. Radahn showed no sign of halting or distress, though Owain could see his clearly broken limbs, could hear his labored breathing. The demi-god's ripping skin bled darkly, his muscles shearing from overuse. He evidently could not feel the pain. A lowward swipe saw the bone of Owain's knee shatter and he fell to a torturous kneel.
Owain, Lord Commander of the Tree Sentinels, was forced to acknowledge something he had not had to since his first death.
He was going to lose.
The sentinel smiled grimly, he would see his brother saved, even if it was the death of him. The re-arrival of the other tarnished granted him a few precious moments to collect himself. They died even more quickly than before, but at least he was able to hobble to a stand. This pain was unreal, it was so intense that he thought distantly he might fall unconscious. Owain shook his head, now was not the time! He surged forth from his good leg, putting all the strength left in his body into a resounding blow to Radahn's head.
The man's helm too, was knocked free, and for a fraction of an instant, Owain saw some sort of wrathful lucidity in his feral eyes. It was just as quickly gone; Radahn roared long and loud before launching himself skyward in a gigantic spray of sand. Owain was thrown to his back just a short distance from his great shield. He began to wheeze out a laugh, Radahn had shown him this move once when they were messing about in this very desert, though back then it had been several large staging grounds for military maneuvers.
He had but one chance! Owain crawled as swiftly as he could to his shield, propping himself up with it and unsheathing the small sword of sleep from his un-shattered thigh. He saw Ranni hovering above the heads of the other tarnished, who were yet sprinting desperately to his side. She surely was an angel, never had he seen something so beautiful. Though he wished she would not sob so for him, he was hardly worth it. He smiled as well as his battered lips could manage, offering her his best thumbs up from a broken hand. They would not be afforded a better chance than this, she could not save him now.
As Radahn's meteoric spell lit up the dusky sky, Owain coughed out one last hacking laugh. Come now Radahn, it was hardly fair to drop so furiously from the heavens when Owain had not even his own magic. They met with a echoing boom, his greatshield shearing in twine as he slipped the sword into the fleshy part of Radahn's middle. Owain saw his brother's eyes slip from braying rage to fitful sleep as they hurtled through the sand dunes between them and the fort. A smile stayed set upon his face as oblivion took him at their impact from sand into hard stone.