The Mad Prince

[wanderingbard]

Who: Levin and Luca Blight (Rider)
What: The Prince of the Nameless States defends his people
Where: Outside Higheast
Warnings: Battle and violence

He had a distinct feeling he'd forgotten something.

Cryptically hinted at the possibility of his disappearance to Garviel, check.  Quizzed Thomas about what he knew about Luca, check.  Set up the right conditions to have more than a 0.1% chance at taking down the Mad Prince, check check check.

Perhaps he'd left the fire untended when he'd left the castle.  Levin shrugs a little as he stands from his seat on the dune facing the former castle of L'Renouille.  It was near nightfall.  There was no special strategical reason for this, only that he is a bard and battles are always more dramatic at dusk or dawn.  And for the sake of his people and his heritage, he is making many concessions today, but waking up at 5:00 isn't one of them.

The heir to the throne of the Nameless States puts up a hand.  And out of nothing, from a cloudless sky, from a light breeze that occasionally stirs up a flurry of sand, he draws forth a tornado and drops it carelessly on the center of the castle.  His voice, when he calls out, is carried by his wind to the ears of his foe.

"Luca Blight!  Don't mean to... get your wind up, but I've got an urgent message you just might want to hear."

Comments

[wanderingbard]

Levin stands slowly with a faint smile. Yes, this was the stuff of which legends were made. Hopefully, Luca would go along with it for a few more moments before the fighting began in earnest. One had to do this kind of thing the right way.

"That's easy enough. I'm your executioner." He had practiced that line to himself in the mirror and so the smirk on his face is perfectly molded. "Or... Guess mad dogs don't get executed more than they get put down."

The man reaches up, and in one smooth motion, removes his scarves and parts his hair. Upon his forehead is a symbol that Luca Blight may perhaps be familiar with: the ancient mark of a wind god, the ancestral guardian deity of the royal family of the States.

"My name is Levin. Short for Samarevn. Eighth in the line of Silesia, son of Rahna, descendent of Crusader Sety, living scion of the god Holsety." A short pause as Levin quietly concludes. "Heir to the throne of the Nameless States."

[burnlikelivestock]

At the sight of that mark, he reacted by laughing. Clutching at his forehead with his one, empty hand, he tilts his head towards the white sun and laughs. Since coming to this world, his fortune couldn't have been better. All of his enemies were coming right to his doorstep just like that. The people of this era were much more eager to start a fight. Once his laughter subsides, his hand descends and Luca begins to speak again.

"How times do change...

... Strange, though. I heard that the States were ruled by a regent. Tell me, how should I think of you? Should I think of you as a cowardly king for running away from your responsibilities and pushing them all on a boy weaker than you? Or should I think of you as a brave king for coming all the way here with the intent to kill me and secure for your people peace? ... Ah. I should compromise and praise your stupidity for facing me alone, with only the wind and without an army."

[wanderingbard]

"You can think whatever you want of me." Levin tosses the scarves to one side as the wind lightly stirs around them. "I'll promise you, whatever you think won't hurt my feelings one way or another."

He draws a tome out from within a pocket and flips the pages idly.

"The nice part about going incognito... No one will bat an eye if you vanish. Maybe I've skirted my responsibilities exactly so I could face you, Luca Blight. I don't intend to lose even a single one of my people more to your mindless slaughter.

"Prince of the State against the Prince of the Highlands. It's more fitting this way, isn't it?"

[burnlikelivestock]

The runaway prince still possesses the attitude of a monarch deep beneath that bard disguise. Luca acknowledges that in his enemy, but fails to respect it. That infallible attitude of his only deepens the hypocrisy of the State in its history of politicking.

"That would make an entertaining story to read in the history books. I have an idea on how to make it even better."

Rather than stepping forward to deal with his enemy, Luca begins to back away and create more distance. An arcane magic creates a spacial distortion between Luca and Levin. Light shines and takes the form of two towering golden wolves, staring down at Levin while growling.

"The long-disappeared Prince of the State was found eaten by wolves. Humiliating? Not really. The rest of this kingdom and world will join too. Regardless of whatever you thought you could do today."

[wanderingbard]

"I read up on your history, Luca Blight." Levin calmly examines the creatures created of magic before him. "Is that what happened to you after your defeat? Animals aren't usually given burials, after all."

A dull roar sounds from the east before the howling winds tear into Luca and his creations. Not so much an assault, though, as it is the attempt to gain an opening advantage. Lost in the blinding sandstorm, Levin vanishes from sight.

[burnlikelivestock]

Luca, still relatively human, shields his eyes from the sandstorm with his arm, yet the wolves don't seem to be too affected at all. They aren't able to see through the sand. Capturing Levin's scent is difficult too, but it manages to squeeze through all the flying sand only by a little. Allowing Levin to get away too far away will only leave Luca to an attack. If he can throw tornadoes from great distances, then there's no reason why he can't do it again. The wolves give chase. Despite their size, they're twice as fast as the ordinary human. How well that matters against a wind mage of Levin's caliber is up for debate.

Luca advances as well, but he makes no rush. Levin will appear again one way or another. A murderous grin stretches across his face as he intends to kill the prince of the loathsome States with no intention of sparing a limb.

[wanderingbard]

Levin's speed is ungodly. ...Or, well. Quite godly, as a matter of course. The prince of the Nameless States was born with the blood of the gods running through his veins, and it is with this power now that he skims across the surface of the sands.

His strategy was simple. One couldn't defeat what one could not hit. He intended to use the storm and his speed to make it as difficult as possible for the Mad Prince. Ideally, he was more accustomed to fighting on this terrain as well, given the less barren state of this country in Luca's past.

For all of this, there is a grim resolution to his expression as he glances down at his sacred tome.

Holsety... He would place trust in the words given to him.

Almost evenly matched with the wolves, Levin uses his advantage of attacking at a distance to his favor. The first burst of cutting wind sweeps towards his pursuers as he aims a second towards Luca. The nice thing about attacking with the wind was that aim wasn't such an issue.

Sorry for the short post, but I need to run out for a bit!

[burnlikelivestock]

The armor can only do so much to soften the blow. As the unnatural blades of wind flies towards him, Luca places his sword up. This is more or less a futile gesture considering that there's little way a man can "defend" against wind itself. His skin is sliced and gashes are made, but those start regenerating thanks to the body of a Heroic Spirit. With the spell cast, however, the wolves can better target Levin. With a howl, they summon eldritch lightning to strike at the spots Levin would most likely run towards hoping to hit him that way. It's ridiculous to try to aim for a moving target as fast as Levin, really.

No problem! Take your time.

[wanderingbard]

There were three things Levin was quite glad for as the wolves launched their eldritch lightning. The first, that he had been quite active in his youth within the castle, never being content to stay cooped up in his room. The second, that he was on sand so diving to the side didn't break his neck. And most importantly, that the wolves were using Thunder based magic rather than Fire, being that his school of magic had, at its core, an intrinsic advantage over Thunder.

Levin skips from side to side, but even one with holy blood couldn't run forever. He pauses at one point to concentrate on his magic, long enough that a strike of lightning almost takes him directly. And though he falls to one knee, in the next moment, the wolves are caught in the middle of a frigid hail and driving snow. ...A blizzard has appeared in the middle of the desert.

"Luca Blight... I mean to challenge you, not your pets." Again, his trick with the wind carries his voice through the storms. "Are you done playing beastmaster?"

A lot of time taken :c

[burnlikelivestock]

He smiles a little. Amusing as it would have been to just make wolf chow out of the States' prince, he was proving himself more than capable to take them on. The Beast Rune consumed the lives of many, but not nearly enough to materialize in its true form. Either way, it seems like Luca himself needs to step into the battlefield. And to be perfectly more honest, he would like nothing more than to kill Levin himself no matter how humiliating a death the Golden Wolves can inflict.

Luca speeds his pace, making a superhuman dash towards the direction the wolves last sensed Levin. Activating the Fire Rune embedded in his right hand, flames now surround his blade. Despite Luca's speed, Levin is assuredly faster. Luca had an advantage of strength and endurance over the other prince, though. What if that strength happened to be combined with magic? As Luca stops, once he's confident he's close enough, the Mad Prince makes a strong swing at the air in Levin's direction. Fire rushes at the mage.

[wanderingbard]

Well, that was just dandy. Levin makes a mental note never to thank the fates for anything again even as he redirects a portion of his blizzard to protect himself from the flames. The frigid north wind spirals around him, neutralizing some of the fire magic before it strikes; it is impossible, though, to avoid taking some damage.

Luca may catch a brief glimpse of a burning figure before the flames are extinguished in the blink of an eye. The absence of air, in this case, served as valuable a utility as its weaponization. There is a brief pause before, predictably, another cutting edge of wind lashes forth.