((OOC: I'd prefer whomever accepts this challenge to have a very strong grip on proper writing technique and substantial experience. I will be using Holocaust for this fight. END OOC))
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Legend has it that long, long ago, before the birth and death of countless universes, their existed a magus whose nights were filled with fitful dreams. In his dreams, a mighty voice spoke to him in a language he did not understand, and the power of the voice overwhelmed him so much that he deprived himself of sleep. It is said that the man deprived himself of sleep for fifteen days before his body and mind gave out, and he fell into a ten-year coma. When he awoke, the magus ran screaming through the halls of his own academy and killed his students, using their blood to transcribe a spell circle onto the floor, all the while chanting discordantly in the language of his nightmares. The spell he wove annihilated his body and all of the academy except the stone tiles on which the bloody circle was drawn, but there was no true 'destruction'.
Instead, everything that had disappeared was replaced with something no mortal had ever seen before: not mere energy, but pure creation. The spell, it seemed, could confer upon its weaver the power of God. Immediately, many of the magi of that world sought to decipher the complex spell and bring it under their control, hoping for a taste of supreme power. To the relief of cooler heads, not only was the language of the writing entirely alien, but the construction of the circle was so incredibly complicated as to appear differently to everyone who viewed it, making the accuracy of replications too questionable to make risking their use worthwhile.
Not every wizard agreed with this assessment, however. Magi came from all over the world to try their hand at the spell, wreaking untold havoc upon the world as their near-misses resulted in fire-storms, demonic summonings, matter-consuming rifts and earthquakes. Eventually, the wisest of the world's magi determined that it was not a divine gift, but a trick of the darkest, most prideful intellect in all of existence, falsely offering to make the created like their creator just to lead them to madness and self-damnation. The stones upon which the so-branded 'Devil's Wheel' were broken up and with the combined magics of all the world's wizards, were flung through time and space, the fragments of the spell winding their way through the myriad universes until unfathomable spans separated the fragments of the circle.
However, the sad fact is that it became a legend. Word reached the ears of many over the eons, and the pride of they who are created is not made to waver so easily. That is why Holocaust, the demon of the heaven-searing flame, stood surveying a temple on the surface of Kli'roshek, a world long-since ruined by some great force from beyond. He looked to the sky with his burning green eyes, laughing through the grate of his helmet's faceplate. The three horns of viridian flame that rose from the blackened metal flickered to the rhythm of his cruel chuckle, and as his impressive, armor clad form stood in monolithic defiance of the stars, any could see that he had no fear. Whatever doom had ravaged this world would not get between him and his prize; not after searching for this one fragment of The Devil's Wheel for eight-thousand years. His will resolute, he strode confidently towards the temple's gated courtyard, pausing only a moment at the threshold to see how vines that had once writhed in the cracked clay simply choked it now, brittle, black and dead.
Holocaust stepped into the massive square, the remnants of what could have been a garden stretching wide before him. Bones lay scattered here and there, time-worn pedestals lay buried beneath the rubble of their former occupants, and a chilling ghostwind breathed out onto the silent stones from the pitch-black maw of the proper temple. Smoke rose from Holocaust's blackened metal cage-armor, the spiked-and-rune-adorned plating hissing as the heat of his inner body swelled in anticipation.
"This place, it reeks of ambitions and madness...yes, the god of Kli'roshek had a piece of the wheel. I shall have to thank his dried corpse for minding it until my arrival," the demon growled, taking one step forward, then pausing as he sensed something stirring not within the temple, but without. He did not yet know just what drew near, only that he had not set so many worlds aflame only to be stopped on the cusp of his first find.
"Come then! I feel you, interloper! I can feel your intentions...face me!" he bellowed, his voice shaking the browning bones on the courtyard floor, echoing to the sky.
The Devil's Wheel, Part 1 (Open Challenge)
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HolocaustHybrid
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HolocaustHybrid
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Galefore
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Dhampir
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"Face me!" Holocaust howled, unsatisfied with the current desolation. Ruziel obliged, stepping forward from the bended light that shrouded his form and appearing suddenly like sunlight from behind a passing cloud. The black hood of his cloak shadowed his eyes, but Holocaust could see his fixed smile.
"Demons, demons, demons," said the angel, "always working so hard for the power of creation." He walked amongst the dead of the garden, and to the plants life slowly returned; there could yet again be green. From his shoulder he slung down his longsword, Ruziel's own height and fused of two blades, and stood before Holocaust with the point facing the dirt. "I've come to ensure that the Wheel stays broken."
Ruziel looked to the broken sky, the color of poisoned water, and his hood fell back. His eyes had no figure, burning ferociously in ultraviolet-blue, like the blood of the unborn would look until the very first taste of oxygen, and in that moment his wings appeared on his back and stretched to their full length--with one blade in each hand he might brush his farthest feathers. His wings were the color of sacrificial smoke, accented every so often with a patch of autumn red.
"You always, always have a chance to repent," he said. "Call off the quest for the Wheel and turn back, and you'll be spared." Ruziel's eyes burned intensely now, like storm clouds above a sunset. "Or else I'll show you the power of the Living Flame."
OoC: Would have gone further, but didn't know how Holocaust attacks. Sorry.
"Demons, demons, demons," said the angel, "always working so hard for the power of creation." He walked amongst the dead of the garden, and to the plants life slowly returned; there could yet again be green. From his shoulder he slung down his longsword, Ruziel's own height and fused of two blades, and stood before Holocaust with the point facing the dirt. "I've come to ensure that the Wheel stays broken."
Ruziel looked to the broken sky, the color of poisoned water, and his hood fell back. His eyes had no figure, burning ferociously in ultraviolet-blue, like the blood of the unborn would look until the very first taste of oxygen, and in that moment his wings appeared on his back and stretched to their full length--with one blade in each hand he might brush his farthest feathers. His wings were the color of sacrificial smoke, accented every so often with a patch of autumn red.
"You always, always have a chance to repent," he said. "Call off the quest for the Wheel and turn back, and you'll be spared." Ruziel's eyes burned intensely now, like storm clouds above a sunset. "Or else I'll show you the power of the Living Flame."
OoC: Would have gone further, but didn't know how Holocaust attacks. Sorry.
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HolocaustHybrid
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((OOC: Ho ho! This ought to be fun.))
As the angel gave Holocaust his ultimatum, the demon felt a quickening within his roiling essence. The movement of heat and malice within the armor containing him accelerated and the flames of his eyes burned the brighter for it.
"...Or else I'll show you the power of the Living Flame," the angel finished. Though his eyes seared back at Holocaust, there was still an air of beneficence about him, the same sort of condescending holiness the demon had seen so many times before. It struck him as sickening smugness, and this one even had the audacity to speak of flames to him.
"Only a demon such as I would seek this power so restlessly," he he said, his glance briefly shifting to the vines that gradually flushed with life beneath the acid firmament, then back to Ruziel. "But only an angel would come in all his power and glory to bring the law of life to that which has been dead for an eon," he said, spreading his arms wide as the hissing of his ever-burning armor grew louder. The ash long ago scorched onto the formerly red plating began to crackle. "Only an angel has such righteous arrogance. And yet, you say you have the power of the Living Flame? God must have a taste for irony to send you to me."
With that, Holocaust lowered his arms and took in a breath so deep and rasping that it seemed to scratch the air as it passed into the raging chaos of his being. Immediately, he breathed forth a jet of green flame that washed through the grating of his faceplate, roaring forth at Ruziel, who adroitly sidestepped the blast only to find the demon leaping upon him wildly. As Holocaust closed the gap between he and his foe, he brought claws to bear on him, serrated obsidian blades that extended inches from the plating on his hands. Again, the angel deftly evaded the strike with a back-step, leading into a counter with his right hand. His sword sung through the air with the melodic purity of a choir, a sound that caused Holocaust to wretch just long enough for the blade to catch his forearm. It sang of condemnation as it left a deep scar in his charred armor, etching a clean, blood-red mark amidst the black stains.
Holocaust snarled and feigned imbalance from the strike; predictably Ruziel followed with a confident left-handed stroke, but the demon twisted himself violently, throwing his great weight in a collapsing spiral. The rotation sent the blade glancing off him and the moment Holocaust locked eyes with the angel he felt an impossible fury well up inside him. He caught the ground with one hand and quickly lifted the other, flinging a fireball at the angel. Ruziel deflected it with his sword, but in that moment, the demon felt that he'd put his foe on the defensive.
"You're an angel, I'm a demon," he said in a voice that seemed twain. Two madnesses spoke with one burning tongue. "You must know that all can exist between us is annihilation. So let's dispense of the idle melee." Abruptly, the plumes of the smoke that rose from his searing body gave way to a mirage; a shifting in the poison air due to the oppressive heat radiating through the metal. The surface of his armor boiled as his gauntleted hands caught fire, and he let loose a feral howl as he flung himself with greater speed than before at the angel.
"Match flames with me!"
As the angel gave Holocaust his ultimatum, the demon felt a quickening within his roiling essence. The movement of heat and malice within the armor containing him accelerated and the flames of his eyes burned the brighter for it.
"...Or else I'll show you the power of the Living Flame," the angel finished. Though his eyes seared back at Holocaust, there was still an air of beneficence about him, the same sort of condescending holiness the demon had seen so many times before. It struck him as sickening smugness, and this one even had the audacity to speak of flames to him.
"Only a demon such as I would seek this power so restlessly," he he said, his glance briefly shifting to the vines that gradually flushed with life beneath the acid firmament, then back to Ruziel. "But only an angel would come in all his power and glory to bring the law of life to that which has been dead for an eon," he said, spreading his arms wide as the hissing of his ever-burning armor grew louder. The ash long ago scorched onto the formerly red plating began to crackle. "Only an angel has such righteous arrogance. And yet, you say you have the power of the Living Flame? God must have a taste for irony to send you to me."
With that, Holocaust lowered his arms and took in a breath so deep and rasping that it seemed to scratch the air as it passed into the raging chaos of his being. Immediately, he breathed forth a jet of green flame that washed through the grating of his faceplate, roaring forth at Ruziel, who adroitly sidestepped the blast only to find the demon leaping upon him wildly. As Holocaust closed the gap between he and his foe, he brought claws to bear on him, serrated obsidian blades that extended inches from the plating on his hands. Again, the angel deftly evaded the strike with a back-step, leading into a counter with his right hand. His sword sung through the air with the melodic purity of a choir, a sound that caused Holocaust to wretch just long enough for the blade to catch his forearm. It sang of condemnation as it left a deep scar in his charred armor, etching a clean, blood-red mark amidst the black stains.
Holocaust snarled and feigned imbalance from the strike; predictably Ruziel followed with a confident left-handed stroke, but the demon twisted himself violently, throwing his great weight in a collapsing spiral. The rotation sent the blade glancing off him and the moment Holocaust locked eyes with the angel he felt an impossible fury well up inside him. He caught the ground with one hand and quickly lifted the other, flinging a fireball at the angel. Ruziel deflected it with his sword, but in that moment, the demon felt that he'd put his foe on the defensive.
"You're an angel, I'm a demon," he said in a voice that seemed twain. Two madnesses spoke with one burning tongue. "You must know that all can exist between us is annihilation. So let's dispense of the idle melee." Abruptly, the plumes of the smoke that rose from his searing body gave way to a mirage; a shifting in the poison air due to the oppressive heat radiating through the metal. The surface of his armor boiled as his gauntleted hands caught fire, and he let loose a feral howl as he flung himself with greater speed than before at the angel.
"Match flames with me!"
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Dhampir
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Holocaust's flaming claws lashed at Ruziel in the close of his charge, the demon's momentum pushing Ruziel back a step and a half and proximity rendering his longsword unwieldly. Holocaust grabbed at the hem of his cloak and scratched at the flesh and left bubbles of metal sizzling in the open wound but Ruziel did not whine. He found steady footing and kicked square at Holocaust's abdomen and the demon relented in a moment he might have overcome; as for Ruziel his foot emerged swollen from the flames like blackened wood. Ruziel delivered one great stroke from over his head, blessed steel clashing like war drums against the demon's nails, and next slashed up toward Holocaust's shoulder. They half-circled, Holocaust's flames lapping in Ruziel's direction with the haunted wind from the temple door.
"Match flames with you?" Ruziel said, lifting his head from its cranny in his collarbone throwing back his hood. "I don't even see the comparison," he said, and drew down the violent candles in his eyes until they encased his irises like an internal combustion engine. Holocaust let a savage roar and from the twisted metal hole breathed a green jet of volcanic intensity, but Ruziel's flame shielded him without harm or color, like crests of sky-colored water flowing from his feet, and coiled about him like a zephyr serpent whose form could only be assumed against the emerald flame. "My fire is the soul of the Highest God." The angelic incarnate did not wait for the flames to abate; he split his longsword and stabbed forward without both. Holocaust was forced up the temple steps, and Ruziel did not relent, harrying the demon with saber stabs, jumping three steps and landing on his hands just to swing his legs into Holocaust's body like wooden hammers, each blow whether blocked or delivered creating clouds of mist exhaust from the interaction between their fires. Ruziel danced around his opponent, even sometimes wheeling ahead of Holocaust, but if the demon would then descend the steps he would only find his path blocked again by sword stroke; and so it continued until they were nigh at the temple door.
Holocaust stood in relief before the absolute darkness of the temple's inside. "Hahahaha! You chased me toward my prize?"
"No, into your tomb," Ruziel said. His lifted his left arm and off his flesh rose that sea serpent, born of sky and flame and surging with blue like a tesla coil, and the desolate air crackled with electricity. Holocaust stood and did not know himself, only stood on guard as the serpent reared its head, took Ruziel's sword in its empty mouth, and pounced as though it could cross a limitless distance.
"Match flames with you?" Ruziel said, lifting his head from its cranny in his collarbone throwing back his hood. "I don't even see the comparison," he said, and drew down the violent candles in his eyes until they encased his irises like an internal combustion engine. Holocaust let a savage roar and from the twisted metal hole breathed a green jet of volcanic intensity, but Ruziel's flame shielded him without harm or color, like crests of sky-colored water flowing from his feet, and coiled about him like a zephyr serpent whose form could only be assumed against the emerald flame. "My fire is the soul of the Highest God." The angelic incarnate did not wait for the flames to abate; he split his longsword and stabbed forward without both. Holocaust was forced up the temple steps, and Ruziel did not relent, harrying the demon with saber stabs, jumping three steps and landing on his hands just to swing his legs into Holocaust's body like wooden hammers, each blow whether blocked or delivered creating clouds of mist exhaust from the interaction between their fires. Ruziel danced around his opponent, even sometimes wheeling ahead of Holocaust, but if the demon would then descend the steps he would only find his path blocked again by sword stroke; and so it continued until they were nigh at the temple door.
Holocaust stood in relief before the absolute darkness of the temple's inside. "Hahahaha! You chased me toward my prize?"
"No, into your tomb," Ruziel said. His lifted his left arm and off his flesh rose that sea serpent, born of sky and flame and surging with blue like a tesla coil, and the desolate air crackled with electricity. Holocaust stood and did not know himself, only stood on guard as the serpent reared its head, took Ruziel's sword in its empty mouth, and pounced as though it could cross a limitless distance.
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HolocaustHybrid
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The moment of initial surprise was quickly replaced with an onslaught of instinct, the demon throwing his weight sideways to avoid the ember serpent as it drove a heavenly blade towards him. No sooner had he evaded it then it turned about and struck again. The demon dodged again, faster, and saw the serpent turn about again. Snarling in frustration, Holocaust began to dance with the snake, spinning and ducking and dodging it as it coiled round and round him, both of their movements gaining momentum until Ruziel cut in.
The demon's roiling hate flared to the fore, and as he ducked beneath the snake's strike yet again, he very nearly met the angel's other blade, driving for his neck while the familiar turned to strike the base of his spine. He thrust his left hand up as quickly as he could, his hand striking and sending wide Ruziel's blade while his right reached behind to catch the serpent by its head. He let out a low, guttural growl as the sword in its mouth pierced his armor just shy of its mark, the wound bleeding a small rivulet of magma.
"I told you...to stop fooling around!" Holocaust sent his own demonic flame rushing through the serpent's body, annihilating it in a series of small explosions and replacing it with a long, burning whip, which he quickly brought around to lash at Ruziel's neck. He caught the angel and tightened the fiery noose, jerking his arm back and spinning around, flinging his foe into the same dark entryway he had previously been pinned before. He let the whip go as he did, its flames hissing after their victim and splaying themselves out against him.
"Using such a pitiful familiar against me is an insult!" he roared as the angel rose to his feet. Ruziel tried to loosen the whip that still hung from his neck; it did not choke as it had seconds before, but still charred and swelled his skin and would not relinquish his neck. The angel had to pause as Holocaust reached for his back where the heavenly longsword still burned away at his damned flesh and gripped it by its blade, tearing it from his back with a grunt and casting it aside. The demon shook all over, not from the pain but from the audacity of his foe. Emissary of God or not, no being had the right to look down upon him so. It was apparent there was so much more to the angel's power, yet he played these idle games as if it were some mortal spectacle, building the excitement.
"I can't stand you anymore!" the master of cursed fire plunged two fingers into his wound, covering them with a thick coat of his bubbling blood, charging straight for the angel with his claws extended. Ruziel leveled his sword for a strike and swung hard for the demon's shoulder, expecting to catch him as he evaded the blow, only...he never evaded. The blade found purchase in Holocaust's right shoulder, and was in fact stuck there. The demon's eyes swirled with what had to be cruel glee, and with his bloody hand, he gripped the whip around the angel's neck.
All at once, it reacted, the flames eagerly lapping at their master's blood and transforming into sinister black vines that spread to cover the angel's body, hungrily reaching for the fresh wound in his shoulder and coiling around his sword in the process. The vines were sharp as obsidian blades, and their charred cambria was cracked, exposing the volatile heat that gave them unlife. Thorns abruptly sprung from them, digging into the angel's body, ripping his clothes, and the vines coiled and writhed as if to crush him. Holocaust then threw a fireball at Ruziel's chest, connecting with an explosion that sent him tumbling into the shadows of the temple. The demon followed, intending to make a path with the breaking of the angel's body.
"My tomb, your tomb, it doesn't really matter. I've already died before. Can you cross that barrier with me, slave?" Both of Holocaust's hands flared to life, casting a pale green glow on the forgotten stones of the temple's vast anterior hall, the hellish light driving the vines still gripping at Ruziel to pulse. "No? Then burn," he commanded in a hateful rasp, throwing both hands forward and sending a jet of hellfire for his foe.
((OOC: Decided it was time to turn up the heat. Literally. Hope you don't mind. END OOC))
The demon's roiling hate flared to the fore, and as he ducked beneath the snake's strike yet again, he very nearly met the angel's other blade, driving for his neck while the familiar turned to strike the base of his spine. He thrust his left hand up as quickly as he could, his hand striking and sending wide Ruziel's blade while his right reached behind to catch the serpent by its head. He let out a low, guttural growl as the sword in its mouth pierced his armor just shy of its mark, the wound bleeding a small rivulet of magma.
"I told you...to stop fooling around!" Holocaust sent his own demonic flame rushing through the serpent's body, annihilating it in a series of small explosions and replacing it with a long, burning whip, which he quickly brought around to lash at Ruziel's neck. He caught the angel and tightened the fiery noose, jerking his arm back and spinning around, flinging his foe into the same dark entryway he had previously been pinned before. He let the whip go as he did, its flames hissing after their victim and splaying themselves out against him.
"Using such a pitiful familiar against me is an insult!" he roared as the angel rose to his feet. Ruziel tried to loosen the whip that still hung from his neck; it did not choke as it had seconds before, but still charred and swelled his skin and would not relinquish his neck. The angel had to pause as Holocaust reached for his back where the heavenly longsword still burned away at his damned flesh and gripped it by its blade, tearing it from his back with a grunt and casting it aside. The demon shook all over, not from the pain but from the audacity of his foe. Emissary of God or not, no being had the right to look down upon him so. It was apparent there was so much more to the angel's power, yet he played these idle games as if it were some mortal spectacle, building the excitement.
"I can't stand you anymore!" the master of cursed fire plunged two fingers into his wound, covering them with a thick coat of his bubbling blood, charging straight for the angel with his claws extended. Ruziel leveled his sword for a strike and swung hard for the demon's shoulder, expecting to catch him as he evaded the blow, only...he never evaded. The blade found purchase in Holocaust's right shoulder, and was in fact stuck there. The demon's eyes swirled with what had to be cruel glee, and with his bloody hand, he gripped the whip around the angel's neck.
All at once, it reacted, the flames eagerly lapping at their master's blood and transforming into sinister black vines that spread to cover the angel's body, hungrily reaching for the fresh wound in his shoulder and coiling around his sword in the process. The vines were sharp as obsidian blades, and their charred cambria was cracked, exposing the volatile heat that gave them unlife. Thorns abruptly sprung from them, digging into the angel's body, ripping his clothes, and the vines coiled and writhed as if to crush him. Holocaust then threw a fireball at Ruziel's chest, connecting with an explosion that sent him tumbling into the shadows of the temple. The demon followed, intending to make a path with the breaking of the angel's body.
"My tomb, your tomb, it doesn't really matter. I've already died before. Can you cross that barrier with me, slave?" Both of Holocaust's hands flared to life, casting a pale green glow on the forgotten stones of the temple's vast anterior hall, the hellish light driving the vines still gripping at Ruziel to pulse. "No? Then burn," he commanded in a hateful rasp, throwing both hands forward and sending a jet of hellfire for his foe.
((OOC: Decided it was time to turn up the heat. Literally. Hope you don't mind. END OOC))
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Dhampir
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Mathriel landed on hands and feet, never to let his body touch the ground, bleeding tremendously as does all his kind. His ears rang like a choir and he heard not his adversary's commandment to burn, but saw the tongue of flame that swept into the temple. With one gust of his wings he was at his feet, holding his longsword underhanded like a dagger. When the demon's cursed breath neared Mathriel's seraphic flame returned, the serpent that coiled around his arm and blade, sculpted for the eye by shedding skin like skeletal ash, and when Holocaust's jet met the flaming serpent all its hellish fury was quickly quenched.
"Cross that barrier? Demon, I died even before I was born," the angel said, and his churning wings propelled him forward like a zephyr. Mathriel was as fast and clever as light itself, and Holocaust shrieked as Mathriel plunged his longsword through his chest and out of his kidneys, nailing him to the stone temple floor. With his other hand Mathriel seized his sword that was left in Holocaust's body, drew it out once so that the demon's arm hung ineffectually from an eviscerated socket, stabbed forward again and pinned Holocaust's heart to the pillar behind. Holocaust shrieked again, and fire poured from his wounds like a furnace and swelling in heat like a dying star. Mathriel's holy swords glowed like sunbeams in the heat, but Mathriel felt nothing.
"Can't you see yet how much superior my flame is to yours?" Mathriel asked, standing before the squirming inferno. "Merciful, angelic fire, that can choose whether to soothe or consume... hasn't it swallowed yours in just a gulp?" Mathriel swelled his seraphim and it threatened for a moment to snuff Holocaust's pyre; but, too fiercely the demon burned.
His pride bested, Mathriel's glowing eyes at once dimmed to the silver omen of stormclouds. "But you shall not be soothed," he said. Effusions of water began to spring from his wounds, disappearing as fog in Holocaust's flames. But as this water ran over Mathriel's flesh another change took place, where the blackened chars that would slough off and leave sinew to gape, these became enlivened like leaves that enclosed and nurtured his wounds, and his hair became like moss and fine clover. Holocaust thrashed against the hilts, clawing at the angel who stood just out of reach. "Feeling a little pinned down? I was a little tied up just a moment ago, quid pro quo. And I didn't like what you did with those vines either, it's wrong to corrupt the living things." Mathriel's undamaged flesh hardened like the rigid bark of palm and frond thorns covered his knees, knuckles, elbows and feet. Encased within his angelic fire, invisible and ex nihilo, he battered Holocaust with his thorned body until the demon's warcries garbled in the mash of his mouth and there was no sound but Mathriel's strikes over the roaring furnace.
Holocaust lashed out to reprise the onslaught, but, when not intercepted, his claws skittered over Mathriel's smooth bark or simply seared off patches of his smooth green coat. Only when Holocaust's boiling blood began to melt the pillar behind him did Mathriel relent, drawing his two swords from his opponent's body glowing like the holy wrath of Jah Himself, and Holocaust fell to the small pit his gore had burned into the stone. Mathriel stood before him, again holding both swords backwards as daggers, as a lush ivy spread over his singed wings.
"Forgiveness is yours if you would only ask," he said impassively.
OoC: Name change. Just trying something new I guess, they will probably end up interchangeable.
"Cross that barrier? Demon, I died even before I was born," the angel said, and his churning wings propelled him forward like a zephyr. Mathriel was as fast and clever as light itself, and Holocaust shrieked as Mathriel plunged his longsword through his chest and out of his kidneys, nailing him to the stone temple floor. With his other hand Mathriel seized his sword that was left in Holocaust's body, drew it out once so that the demon's arm hung ineffectually from an eviscerated socket, stabbed forward again and pinned Holocaust's heart to the pillar behind. Holocaust shrieked again, and fire poured from his wounds like a furnace and swelling in heat like a dying star. Mathriel's holy swords glowed like sunbeams in the heat, but Mathriel felt nothing.
"Can't you see yet how much superior my flame is to yours?" Mathriel asked, standing before the squirming inferno. "Merciful, angelic fire, that can choose whether to soothe or consume... hasn't it swallowed yours in just a gulp?" Mathriel swelled his seraphim and it threatened for a moment to snuff Holocaust's pyre; but, too fiercely the demon burned.
His pride bested, Mathriel's glowing eyes at once dimmed to the silver omen of stormclouds. "But you shall not be soothed," he said. Effusions of water began to spring from his wounds, disappearing as fog in Holocaust's flames. But as this water ran over Mathriel's flesh another change took place, where the blackened chars that would slough off and leave sinew to gape, these became enlivened like leaves that enclosed and nurtured his wounds, and his hair became like moss and fine clover. Holocaust thrashed against the hilts, clawing at the angel who stood just out of reach. "Feeling a little pinned down? I was a little tied up just a moment ago, quid pro quo. And I didn't like what you did with those vines either, it's wrong to corrupt the living things." Mathriel's undamaged flesh hardened like the rigid bark of palm and frond thorns covered his knees, knuckles, elbows and feet. Encased within his angelic fire, invisible and ex nihilo, he battered Holocaust with his thorned body until the demon's warcries garbled in the mash of his mouth and there was no sound but Mathriel's strikes over the roaring furnace.
Holocaust lashed out to reprise the onslaught, but, when not intercepted, his claws skittered over Mathriel's smooth bark or simply seared off patches of his smooth green coat. Only when Holocaust's boiling blood began to melt the pillar behind him did Mathriel relent, drawing his two swords from his opponent's body glowing like the holy wrath of Jah Himself, and Holocaust fell to the small pit his gore had burned into the stone. Mathriel stood before him, again holding both swords backwards as daggers, as a lush ivy spread over his singed wings.
"Forgiveness is yours if you would only ask," he said impassively.
OoC: Name change. Just trying something new I guess, they will probably end up interchangeable.
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HolocaustHybrid
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HolocaustHybrid
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Holocaust lay in the small puddle of searing blood as the wounds beneath his armor began to cool. The searing magma turned to small obsidian scabs, and the sanguine pool beneath him hissed as it chilled to steaming rock against the floor of the dead temple. He didn't pay any mind to what the angel said; at this point he knew it would be more of the same. Instead, he took the merciful repose to think back to when he had started this quest. It was not so long ago, as the span of his life was concerned, but he had been so different then. He remembered breaking into the archives of some elder race, galactic masters who held benign dominion over billions of worlds. He wondered, reflecting on the impossible precision of their architecture, the marvelously regimented training their warriors and mages displayed, if the fates of men and angels were so different, always striving for order.
It's pathetic, really, he recalled himself saying when he had struck down the last of the archive's guardians. Order was the essential hypocrisy, for whence did the dominance of such men come from? It came from their power to create chaos, and deep within that vault where he found the first cipher, men like angels kept the tempest under lock and key to gobble up the flames of anarchy, of beginning. Galled by the arrogance, Holocaust did not feel his body clench its fists or rise to its feet. He did not hear the splatter as the last escaping drops of scorching blood hit the floor. He saw in the beatific form of Mathriel everything he loathed. Everything he'd use the power of The Ineffable to erase.
He conjured flame to his hands and slammed them into the ground, sending screeching fissures racing towards the angel, jagged grimacing earth-maws that breathed the demon's own green flame up towards the angel as they flung stones upwards. The ground's sundering threw him off-balance, and the demon quickly lunged through the storm of debris and embers, his limp arm taking the shock of a shoulder-charge straight into Mathriel's bark-skinned body. The angel stumbled back a few paces, regaining composure and poising to strike as the demon leaped over him. Holocaust hit the floor with a crash, sending up another riot of rocks, and the wild howl he unleashed as he spun about, obsidian claws flashing in their warring lights confirmed that he had gone truly berserk. Mathriel's blades matched the demon's one good arm, but his serene confidence gave way to pain and shock when Holocaust abruptly swung back his strking hand, the tongues of flame from the ground yards behind suddenly washing over the angel in a mad rush to their master's hand.
The bark and ivy protecting the angel began to wither and turn to ash, and the angel returned to defending himself with his heavenly fire. Though it warded away the damned light effectively as ever, it merely provoked Holocaust to laugh this time.
"When will you angels learn that life is not such? It's merely survival at best, fleeting and perpetuated by fear. Death and chaos...these are the essence of true creation," he bellowed, the angel remaining impassive. His expression was rife with superiority. "Here, let me show you," Holocaust said, hefting the fireball aloft and...slamming it into one of his own wounds. For an instant, his green eyes exploded, the metal of his armor boiled, and from every crack in his obsidian skin, there came a great explosion. Mathriel hid his eyes, but could sense Holocaust's rage in motion and lifted his swords into its trajectory. When he felt the heat pass from his eyes, he looked up to see the demon's armor covered in deadvines, and the serrated leaves of a black blossom kept both of his swords pinned together. His limp arm still hung by his side, but grasping, charred tendrils reached from it and tangled around Mathriel's body.
Too late did he see the great tail that extended from behind, bearing a four-pronged blossom, arcing across the darkness before it crashed down into Mathriel, impaling the right side of his chest. The force and the wound caused his guard to weaken, and Holocaust disengaged from the falling swords of the angel to deliver a crushing blow to the head, sending the stunned angel to the ground. The unliving monstrosities withdrew to rest, wrapped around the demon's battered body; feeding on reopened wounds. While Mathriel lay bleeding and trying to comprehend how the tables had so quickly turned, Holocaust viciously stomped on his chest, hearing a satisfying crack of sternum as his foot landed.
"Still not convinced? I can see pride in your eyes, angel. You are...a child," Holocaust bent down and grabbed Mathriel by the throat, hoisting him over his shoulder, onto the thorns of his vines before several coils took the shape of skeletal wings behind him and seemed to screech as they burst into flames. On fell wings, Holocaust rocketed upward through the temple roof, smashing its stone with the angel's body as a battering ram and flying up towards a floating mass of white in the distance. Closer and closer he flew until it became the form of a gigantic skeleton, split and broken but still nearly as large as the temple itself.
"See for yourself!" Holocaust snarled and flung his battered passenger at one of the great bones, the angel's body leaving blood stains as it bounced once, twice and came to rest. The lord of cursed flames alighted on the skeleton, his wings fading into smoke. "The god of this world perished. It's simply inevitable. But for your courage, I'll reward you. When I have beaten the last defiant ounce of life from you, I will raise your body as a servant." Swift like the low-swung scythe came the burning hand of death.
It's pathetic, really, he recalled himself saying when he had struck down the last of the archive's guardians. Order was the essential hypocrisy, for whence did the dominance of such men come from? It came from their power to create chaos, and deep within that vault where he found the first cipher, men like angels kept the tempest under lock and key to gobble up the flames of anarchy, of beginning. Galled by the arrogance, Holocaust did not feel his body clench its fists or rise to its feet. He did not hear the splatter as the last escaping drops of scorching blood hit the floor. He saw in the beatific form of Mathriel everything he loathed. Everything he'd use the power of The Ineffable to erase.
He conjured flame to his hands and slammed them into the ground, sending screeching fissures racing towards the angel, jagged grimacing earth-maws that breathed the demon's own green flame up towards the angel as they flung stones upwards. The ground's sundering threw him off-balance, and the demon quickly lunged through the storm of debris and embers, his limp arm taking the shock of a shoulder-charge straight into Mathriel's bark-skinned body. The angel stumbled back a few paces, regaining composure and poising to strike as the demon leaped over him. Holocaust hit the floor with a crash, sending up another riot of rocks, and the wild howl he unleashed as he spun about, obsidian claws flashing in their warring lights confirmed that he had gone truly berserk. Mathriel's blades matched the demon's one good arm, but his serene confidence gave way to pain and shock when Holocaust abruptly swung back his strking hand, the tongues of flame from the ground yards behind suddenly washing over the angel in a mad rush to their master's hand.
The bark and ivy protecting the angel began to wither and turn to ash, and the angel returned to defending himself with his heavenly fire. Though it warded away the damned light effectively as ever, it merely provoked Holocaust to laugh this time.
"When will you angels learn that life is not such? It's merely survival at best, fleeting and perpetuated by fear. Death and chaos...these are the essence of true creation," he bellowed, the angel remaining impassive. His expression was rife with superiority. "Here, let me show you," Holocaust said, hefting the fireball aloft and...slamming it into one of his own wounds. For an instant, his green eyes exploded, the metal of his armor boiled, and from every crack in his obsidian skin, there came a great explosion. Mathriel hid his eyes, but could sense Holocaust's rage in motion and lifted his swords into its trajectory. When he felt the heat pass from his eyes, he looked up to see the demon's armor covered in deadvines, and the serrated leaves of a black blossom kept both of his swords pinned together. His limp arm still hung by his side, but grasping, charred tendrils reached from it and tangled around Mathriel's body.
Too late did he see the great tail that extended from behind, bearing a four-pronged blossom, arcing across the darkness before it crashed down into Mathriel, impaling the right side of his chest. The force and the wound caused his guard to weaken, and Holocaust disengaged from the falling swords of the angel to deliver a crushing blow to the head, sending the stunned angel to the ground. The unliving monstrosities withdrew to rest, wrapped around the demon's battered body; feeding on reopened wounds. While Mathriel lay bleeding and trying to comprehend how the tables had so quickly turned, Holocaust viciously stomped on his chest, hearing a satisfying crack of sternum as his foot landed.
"Still not convinced? I can see pride in your eyes, angel. You are...a child," Holocaust bent down and grabbed Mathriel by the throat, hoisting him over his shoulder, onto the thorns of his vines before several coils took the shape of skeletal wings behind him and seemed to screech as they burst into flames. On fell wings, Holocaust rocketed upward through the temple roof, smashing its stone with the angel's body as a battering ram and flying up towards a floating mass of white in the distance. Closer and closer he flew until it became the form of a gigantic skeleton, split and broken but still nearly as large as the temple itself.
"See for yourself!" Holocaust snarled and flung his battered passenger at one of the great bones, the angel's body leaving blood stains as it bounced once, twice and came to rest. The lord of cursed flames alighted on the skeleton, his wings fading into smoke. "The god of this world perished. It's simply inevitable. But for your courage, I'll reward you. When I have beaten the last defiant ounce of life from you, I will raise your body as a servant." Swift like the low-swung scythe came the burning hand of death.