Mortal Potential - Astire

The army marched.

It wasn't what Astire might have traditionally imagined as an army.  There was little in the way of a cohesive imagery or aesthetics, at least not among the adventurers like herself.  But they were linked through purpose, if nothing else, and a sense of trepidation that felt like it permeated the entire march.

*It is a fool who knows no fear,* she reminded herself.  *A warrior knows fear, and conquers it.*

They all had their own little foci to give them courage.  For some it was a literal focus, something tangible that they could lay a hand on. For others it was the companionship of those around them.

For Astire, it was her code.  It was the duty of a warrior to protect the natural world from unnatural threats to it. What could be more unnatural than the Ghostlands?

It was knowing she was serving that code, making her ancestors proud, that kept her going.

She didn't try to fight the greater undead that beset the army.  There were far stronger adventurers than her there who would only be inconvenienced by her attempts to assist her.  Her code was one of honour, not foolishness.

But the lesser undead...now *those*, she could fight.

Lashing ribbons of light danced from her, burning the undead with heavenly fire that shone in a dozen colours as they wove around her, before wrapping around her body and arms to take the form of plates of armour that glittered like diamonds and thrummed with energy, the raw holy power emanating from them turning aside the strikes of the undead that assaulted her, and beautiful shimmering flowers woven through her long, flowing hair.

From her light-formed arm she conjured blasts of light that slammed into the undead like cannonballs, and pulses of positive energy that tore through the necromantic energies powering them.  In her other hand she held her blade, a beautiful weapon with intricate engravings that seemed to shine with an inner light as it caught the reflections from her shimmering armour, and it seemed to as much burn the undead it struck with holy power as the inhuman strength behind her blows tore their flesh and bones.

A whirlwind of silver and golden light, her movements were nonetheless as graceful and balletic as though she were performing on a stage, her swift steps carrying her further than they had any right to, as though gravity itself were forgetting to keep its hold on her.

There was an unearthly, keening howl, perilously close to the caravan, that carried with it whispers that Astire was glad she couldn't hear.

By the time she arrived, the monster was almost within the caravan itself, the porters and other noncombatants keeping a wide berth from it.

In comparison to the fifty-foot tall undead hulks that had assaulted the caravan and been fought off by the other adventurers, the undead creature that had arrived at the caravan looked distinctly more mundane.  At first glance it could have been mistaken for a skeleton - one that, perhaps, had in life been chained hand and foot to a stout wooden wall by the conquering Empire and left for dead.  But undead might - and the passage of time - had proved greater than the constructions of mortals, and now the skeleton dragged a rotten lump of wood behind it on a chain with links as thick as its head.  And unlike commonplace skeletons, it had an intelligent, malicious light in its eyes - and a malevolent energy in its bones that almost permeated the air around it.  And it *whispered*, snatches of a language that were part Necril and part something much more ancient and eldritch, that no living creature could understand or withstand the knowledge of.

It turned as it registered Astire's approach, but she could tell its attention was still in part on the civilians nearby.  A couple of them who had, through bravery or misfortune, moved too close, were almost catatonic, trembling and whispering reiterated half-heard snatches of the horrifying whispers as they were all but manhandled away.

It watched them leave, *let* them leave, almost as though it was amused by the effect it had had on them.

Astire swept her arm forwards, light erupting from her hand and sweeping towards the skeletal creature, crashing down on it like a wave that sizzled and spat as it came into contact with the necromantic energies powering the monster.  Then it arced back, landing between the young warrior and the monster and reformed into a winged unicorn that reared up and charged, ramming its horn directly into the skeleton's chest.

For a moment it seemed as though that would be it, as the impact forced the skeleton back a pace, positive energy flowing from the unicorn's horn into the skeleton's form.

And then the undead monster looked back to Astire, tilting its skull on one side.  And then it leant down slightly and whispered something into the unicorn's ear.  Astire had just enough time to see the celestial spirit's eyes widen in fear before it brought its chain down on the beautiful creature's back, the wood slamming into it like a boulder and forcing the unicorn to its knees before the necromantic energies raging along the chain's length wrapped around it, lifting it off the ground for a moment -

And then it was nothing but bones that clattered to the ground before dissolving into tiny motes of light.

If the skeleton had a face, Astire knew that it would've been smirking at her.

It raised its whispering voice, the eldritch words worming their way into her mind.  "A warrior knows fear, and conquers it," she whispered.  "A warrior knows fear."  *It's okay to be afraid.*

Almost before she realised she was doing it, she leapt forwards, her katana leaping from its sheathe almost of its own accord and carving a line of light through the air that extended far beyond the length of the blade and slamming into the skeleton, knocking it off-balance - and she landed, span, gripped the handle of her katana with her hand of light as well and attacked again, silver and gold light bursting from the decorations of the blade as her second blow struck in almost exactly the same place as the first.

The skeleton stumbled back, half its ribcage and one leg now nothing more than inanimate bone. For all the necromantic energy that coursed through its frame, a great arc of silver light lay across its form, just waiting for another strike to discharge the roiling mystic energies building up in its body.

But this was the Ghostlands.  Undead would not go so easily to their final rest here.

It howled, and the necromantic energy powering it took on physical essence, reforming its leg and chest, and it raised its weapon and lashed it out towards Astire, the chain unfurling and unravelling impossibly long, buoyed by the monster's malevolence, knocking her katana from her hand and slamming into her, tendrils of negative energy reaching out and trying to wrap around her just as they had the unicorn. But where the unicorn hadn't had the strength to resist the negative energy, Astire's power was greater than that of her celestial servant, her arm of light splitting and shimmering into a sheathe of light that turned the necromantic power aside before it could harm her - though she couldn't stop the chain wrapping around her and snapping taut.

For a moment they were locked there.  Astire had the advantage of strength, narrowly, but the skeleton had the advantage of positioning, and she knew she wouldn't be able to hold it off for long.

"*A warrior conquers fear...*"

The shimmering light erupted from her, forcefully enough to force the bands of negative energy looser. Her feet lifted off the ground slightly, and she almost seemed to grow in stature, the light reforming around her in the same forms it had taken earlier but more ornate and complete, as though until this point she had been merely a pale reflection of her true nature.

She half let the skeleton pull her closer - and then she gripped the chain with hand glad in shining gold and pulled back, and even though she had no purchase on the ground it was the skeleton that lost its balance, stumbling, the chains of the dead slackening further, and she released the chain with one hand and passed her hand of light over her forehead, flicking a couple of drops of light from her hand onto her temple, where they flowed and expanded outwards into beautiful ivory antlers, nearly three feet long.

The skeleton didn't realise the danger in time, and she ducked and rammed her antlers into it with enough force to lift the undead monster off its feet, positive energy flying from the many tines of her antlers and raging through the skeleton, burning the negative energy powering its form away into nothingness.

She reached up with both hands and unleashed a blast of light, striking the pinioned skeleton directly where the unicorn's horn had shattered its bones earlier.  The sudden blast of light was enough to overwhelm the Ghostlands' resistance to the positive energy Astire was invoking, and the skeleton came apart into dust and bones, the massive chunk of rotten wood falling to the ground behind her.

And then suddenly Astire was herself again, dropping to one knee as the power left her, panting.

That battle was over.

But the war continued, and the army marched.

*OOC Note: Astire can't actually summon a unicorn. I forgot she had Oath of Humility when I did this and haven't had the opportunity to change it to Candour yet.*