Tale of a Hedonistic wizard

A faint crease marred Kyra's brow as uncertainty gnawed at her resolve. So much rested on the coming engagement - the fate of her people, her kingdom.

Yet how could they hope to stand against such...things? Those brutes didn't seem like humans in the slightest.

Her eyes cut sideways towards Jaegar, noting the intense focus with which he studied the mockery of men arrayed before them. Perhaps he represented her only chance, despite the offensively cavalier attitude he insisted on adopting.

She thought about what he said and wondered if he would be able to help her win this war. However, she shook her head, refusing to take the words of a young man who was ignorant of the wars seriously. After all, he was just one against thousands.

BBPHRROOOOO!

The thought had barely taken form when the resounding blare of a war horn shattered the fraught stillness.

MEN AT ARMS!

CHARGE!

ATTACK!

In a great clamorous roar, the two armies surged across the field, swiftly becoming a churning maelstrom of steel, flesh, and frantic horseflesh.

As Kyra prepared to spur her own steed forward, Jaegar's words brought her up short. "You people stay behind. You don't need to come onto the battlefield."

She turned towards him, mouth opening to voice a retort, only to be brought up short by the crackling arcs of red-coloured lightning already beginning to coalesce around the wizard's form.

Jaegar's expression was one of intense concentration, his eyes narrowing to mere slits as the energies swarming his body intensified.

From the rear of the mustered ranks, Prince Tavorn watched the display with naked confusion. "Why is she going out onto the battlefield?" he demanded, turning towards Kimon with a querulous expression. "Do we not have soldiers enough to do the fighting for us?"

(sigh)

The aged minister could only sigh heavily, never taking his eyes off Kyra's form. "Sometimes, my prince, it is better to remain silent and simply observe."

Tavorn opened his mouth as if to protest further before seeming to think better of it. Seeing that Kimon wasn't paying attention to what he was saying, he looked at him.

His gaze swivelled to follow Kimon's, coming to rest upon the figure of the mysterious warrior currently encapsulating himself in a bristling corona of elemental might.

Tavorn then voiced his thought, "Who is that?" seeing Jaegar.

As the two armies met like clashing tides, shock waves of pure concussive force rippled outward in all directions. Jaegar, however, seemed utterly insulated from the surrounding chaos, his entire being focused into a singularity of purpose and intent as the arcing energies intensified to nearly blinding levels.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

The arcing energies rippling around Jaegar's form intensified with each measured stride that brought him closer to the raging battlefield. Kyra could only watch in a mixture of horror and morbid fascination as tendrils of incandescent power completely engulfed the mysterious warrior's body in a blinding corona.

This was no mere tactical display or flexing of arcane might. Jaegar had made the resolute decision to push himself to his absolute limits on this day. Throughout the previous night, he had meticulously prepared, allowing the torrential wellsprings of magical power to build within him like a steadily intensifying cyclone.

Each inhalation and exhalation was a calculated cadence, following the meditative techniques instilled by the ancient Tome he had once possessed. He had made a copy of Tome and instilled it in his deep consciousness.

As Jaegar continued his purposeful advance, faint tendrils of an amorphous purple mist began seeping from his outstretched hands.

The vapours rapidly expanded into a billowing nimbus that encircled him from behind, taking on the semblance of a spectral halo. As soon as the purple mist turned to halo, lightning crackled and crawled onto the halo, winding itself.

The entire panorama was at once beautiful and terrible to behold - a vision of raw, unbridled cataclysmic force given corporeal manifestation.

The awe-inspiring spectacle inevitably drew the gazes of all those nearby, whether ally or foe.

Kimon gasped, seeing the young man turn into a complete unknown, "What in the gods name is that?"

Even the most battle-hardened warriors felt their momentum falter as the uncanny maelstrom surrounding Jaegar seemed to distort and dampen all sound within its spherical boundary.

As if in sympathetic response to this localized vortex of power, the very heavens above took on an ominous cast. Roiling stormclouds rapidly consumed the once-serene skies, shrouding the battlefield in bands of enchanted darkness broken only by the diverse flashes emanating from Jaegar's steadily intensifying halo.

The effect was not lost on the massed ranks of Daikrimore's forces arrayed in this sector of the field, numbering easily over a thousand hardened combatants. As one, the disciplined momentum of their assault gradually ground to a stupefied halt, each soldier's eyes inevitably drawn towards the unfolding manifestation taking place before them.

At the eye of this mystical cyclone stood Jaegar, he was now slowly starting to rise up into the air and stopped mid air, a couple of metres above the ground.

As he ascended into midair, he summoned his immemorial arts.

His hands, surrounded by intricate runic patterns of cascading crimson light, began tracing arcane symbolic gestures as unknown words of power issued forth in a discordant tongue.

"Vomdraadki corrcukathu kothar," he intoned, his voice low pitched and contorted.

The eldritch utterances were rendered in a profoundly distorted timbre that seemed to bend and resonate at frequencies never intended for mortal ears.

Each syllable carried innate power, as if plucked from the fundamental phenomenological frameworks that gird all of creation's immutable sympathies.

Jaegar's eyes burned like twin suns, remade into orbits of scintillating energy that flared ever brighter with each archaic invocation.

Then soon a seal started to take shape, inscribed with runic symbols into the air, right in front of his chest, strobing in a blinding torrent of eldritch light, rapidly cycling through permutations and alignments that defied all conventional understanding.

As the eldritch words of power issued forth from Jaegar in a profoundly distorted tongue, he extended one hand outward, fingers splayed in an archaic mudra of mystic beckoning.

The runic seal pulsed ever more intensely, as if in resonant sympathy.