THE BATTLE FOR THE MURIAS

Archibald - 06/13/2017
The concrete that came at Dimas was eviscerated in an instant, a wave of red seemingly obliterating the matter. The hard look that Solon wore expressed little entertainment in the engagement, although those who spent time around the Baron understood this was practically his default look as well. . .Solon didn’t care much for the chatty man, as he his words continued to subtly influence Chernobog’s Champion, but his resolve to group up with Sarah far outweighing the spellcaster’s tongue so far. ’So he copied the physical make up of the concrete then.’ Dimas surmised, watching as his skin changed color and his hair turned into a wooden substance. ’I don’t really care about these clones, but having them follow me throughout Murias would be a problem.’ He’d admit that the larger of the two was probably a decent fighter, from what Dimas had seen so far. The smaller man was insignificant, however. ”Zag’ranzool.’ Dimas’ next curse shook the landscape as a massive tear opened in the middle of the street, the earth splitting and sinking in slightly, buildings around them lost their foundation and suddenly sunk inwards, heading for the center of the street. ”Get lost. I don’t have time to play with you people.”
Wings formed once more and Marowit took flight, his silver arm returning to the normal, pale flesh as his gold eyes followed the woman from above. It wasn’t difficult to keep up with her or to see generally where Marowit thought she’d go. Setting up a trap was equally easy from his vantage point. In his right palm, a gust of wind seemed to be captive, growing ravenous as Marowit tossed it down below, in front of Denial’s path before she could fully enter the courtyard. Like before, it was quick to grow and pull in everything around it, while not yet big enough to drag a fully grown adult, the debris it shot out and the rate at which it was increasing, it wouldn’t take long for that to come to fruition. With the woman presumably pausing at the tornado, even if she could feasibly blow past it if she didn’t flinch for the first few seconds of its introduction to the streets of Murias, Marowit crashed to the ground behind her. ”I’m not sure what you’re trying to accomplish, Cassie Snuka.”  Either through reputation or Marowit’s other means, the entity knew her name and spoke it with the same playful, albeit dangerous, tone as his earlier comments. ”Depression is dealing with Von Weber. You’re here, who’s left to call Erebus?” The tornado raged in front, fixed in place by its masters whims. ”I don’t think he’ll be joining us. You really. . Really shouldn’t of tried to interfere with the demons plots. It’s only natural to kill someone you don’t like, and if you want to be optimistic,” A clawed hand beckoned the eyes of Snuka, flashing in the direction of the lightning and the dragon. ”It doesn’t look like they succeeded. No need to get all worked up and call in Death, right?” His teeth flashed open, the white and sharp canines practically dripping with saliva as the man lunged for her again. The tips of his fingers were turned to silver blades, making for a relatively little but deadly change to his attack.
”Finally got the clue, huh? Leave it to me, right hand man to Donny Bellomo.” Joe “formally” introduced himself, turning back to the approaching Eldritch beast with fear grasping his heart with renewed vigor. The little banter with Leviathan had helped make the effects less significant, but now that he was faced with the demon in a one on one, Mother Fucking Joe couldn’t do much to ignore the encroaching feeling. His teeth clacked against each other as he pulled the shotgun up, refilling it with two shells that had a danger symbol and little lightning on it. ”Alright. You’ve got my full attention now, bud. Don’t expect to be living much longer, Joey don’t play with killers.” Displaying more of his physical prowess, the Fucking Mother launched himself high into the air to escape the immediate grasps of the barb-less tentacles. Pointing the shotgun downward, Joe let off a slight laugh at his imagined victory before unleashing the shells. Like the fire rounds, a massive blast of electricity escaped the mouth of the sawed off shotgun. Unlike the fire rounds, the width they took up was significantly reduced, but the length they traveled at and the speed in which they did were greater. At the head of each lightning blast were the bullets, amped up with enough power to penetrate through old fortified tanks from the great war. After the shots were fired, Joe landed some distance away, keen on getting as far from the thing as possible and fighting at a renewed range. ”Don’t. .Don’t wanna end up like the girl.’ Regret, sadness, and a keen primal fear entered his mind. Instead of Maki dying to the demon, it was Joe being crushed under the merciless tentacles. The imagined death served to shake him a little, pulling more of his attention to the immediate form of the hooved beast.
ArchAngelMike9 - 06/15/2017
Murias shook with a ferocious rattle as the golden energy skirted by Bellomo, striking the ceiling of the underground cavern with a bright burst of light and a follow line of explosions. The streets above swayed and bucked with the force of the blow, and the city below found itself unstable for a brief moment. Debris rain down, chunks ranging from baseball to Prius sized bombarded the streets and buildings below. The display of power was once more reminiscent of the war twenty eight years prior- barely any of the New York magic community had been left standing when the Emperor went on his legendary rampage. Now there were greater odds stacked against him, but the chances of such utter destruction were not too terrible too occur. The great golden glow formed at the back of his maw once more, shining vibrantly as Meng's eyes locked on to the Barca Leader, his voice still carrying from within even if he did not 'speak' in a conventional sense, "I will destroy anything I have to, to punish those that have struck at me today. You are one such assailant." As the glow reached its climax, the lightning gleamed through the air, electricity striking against the right eye of the dragon as his head tilted slightly back, causing the other attack to burst against his scaley-snout. With a raucous roar- a great, deep noise that echoed throughout the underground city- The Emepror pulled back, swaying and shaking his head violently at the power that had just burst into half of his gaze. The beam of energy left his mouth, a beam three seconds long that spewed in every direction as he reeled from the attack. The beam struck the ceiling, sliding partially toward Donald before swinging to downward into the city, blasting through parts of buildings and erratically cutting through streets as he shook off the horrific pain.
"Do not have time to play with us? You speak so highly of yourself, like a pig thinking they smell like roses. You, sir, are the one who instigated combat with my Associate, Garrick. Ryder. And You sir have a great deal of audacity to assume you can strike with a cowardly blow and then, when it understandably fails against a Force. Of. Nature. Like my associate, here. Flee? Run? Yet maintain an attitude of superiority? No, that will not be how this day goes. Ryder! Let us show him why you are a Force. Of. Natu-" The hype man for the Baron spoke with excellent poise as he approached the chasm, pointing across towards Dimas, jutting a finger outward with every accentuated syllable that he spewed toward the Sorcerer. Yet as he neared the edge, giving the okay to his large companion, a beam of light came above. The Dragon's thrashing in the air resulted in a wild release of his power. The spew of solid energy cut across the nearby buildings, ravaging them wholey before darting across the street, nearly engulfing the speaker of the duo until his larger companion yanked him back, leaping away as the beam of Zou's cut across the chasm, soaring at Dimas' location before moving on until it dispersed from the source.
Archibald - 06/15/2017
The initial strike of his blue lightning seemed to have some effect, which Donald internally smiled at. Any success was better than just tiring himself out, tossing bolts of lightning at the Dragon Emperor until the colossal beast grabbed hold of the small fly-like figure and ended their aerial duel. The second blue lightning bolt met no quarter, striking the snout and likely doing nothing more than a glancing blow at best, a moment of pain exchanged for an angrier emperor of the east. As the strike faded, letting a column of smoke form, the beam of energy that the Emperor was charging seemed to be unleashed, possibly by accident, as it cut across the high bedrock rooftop of the ceiling before coming for Bellomo. Without having much time to think, the wide eyed gang leader poured more of his essence into the lightning shroud and kick started his mobility again, moving downward in an effort to out run the laser blast. When it seemed obvious that the gaining energy beam wasn’t going to be sped out again, Donald almost abruptly stopped, shooting himself further into the air and closer to Zou, flying beyond the beam’s range instead of playing it by Zou’s rule. Donald’s momentary victory - survival was just that - fell when the blond haired gangster saw Zou once more target the city underneath him. Horror and anger crossed Bellomo’s face as the light beam seemingly tore through any obstacle - person or building - with no signs of struggle. ”I told you,” He shouted over to the roaring lizard, his right fist clenching as more blue lightning arced out from it.
”I’m not letting you wreak havoc on this city. You’re striking out at the people for the work of demons.” The blue lightning condensed, time and time again, forming a small orb in Bellomo’s hand, the tight sphere not unlike the larger balls of electricity Donald tried to attack Zou with earlier. Donald couldn’t let the dragon emperor continue to fly, his presence would bury Murias quite literally. With a defiant look in the azure eyes of his, Bellomo tossed the tiny orb of condensed energy into the air between the mighty emperor and the gang lord. As soon as he did such, Bellomo shot out a torrent of lightning strikes from his finger, hitting the small orb each time and causing an immediate reaction. The bolts of lightning crossing into the blue orb immediately changed color and grew in size, expanding to feet long as they came out on the other side. With the orb working like a way to supercharge his usual attacks, Donald quickly reigned in the wild bolts of lightning and pulled them downwards, upwards of twelve different arcs moving down at Zou.
The sudden beam of light came as a shock to the Warlock who was far more preoccupied with his goal in mind then paying attention to the chaos around him. The energy strike cut across the length of the street, heading directly for Solon without any signs of slowing down. His mind reeled, trying to keep up with the attack before lunging off to the side at the last minute, moments too late as skin and muscle were burned off his right arm - where his chest was seconds ago. Pain flooded Solon’s body as he bit his gums, holding in a scream before he could properly take control of his vocal cords. ”Polje ZENOS. .  UradanNIN.” He half shouted the curse and ushered in the dark magic that curled around his wounds, shrinking in size to cover the length of the burned away body. The pain that he felt dissipated, any hindrance in using the body removed as Dimas stared up at the sky as a draconic roar split his ear drums. ”What the Hell is a dragon doing in Murias. . ? I thought their species was almost entirely extinct.” He was ignorant of the Dragon Emperor’s arrival on the East Coast, never being one to care about such flamboyant and disconnected figures. But, the beast seemed to be fighting some glowing target as lightning danced across the sky, heading for the dragon. ’This is lunacy. I need to find Sarah and get out of here before someone really troubling arrives.’ The last thing he needed was for Hebe goons or the Church to crash the party. Eyeing the two men, Jew and Muscle, Dimas shook his head. ”Another time. I’m needed else where.” Solon took off further down the street, ending their skirmish early.
ArchAngelMike9 - 06/15/2017
Winds violently whipped and struck at Snuka, forcing her to slide to a halt as the vortex of Marowit's design rose into the air, ripping away loose debris and un-secured pieces of buildings to fling about in a frenzy. The Machete wielding arm rose up, covering her head ever so slightly as her fingers upon her left hand twirled and summoned before a burst of magic escaped her palm. A little white light flung itself into the heart of the Twister, bursting into a shower of bleached sparks and a large, ethereal '0' with a line slashed through it. As her magic went off in a brilliant display, the winds found themselves slowing and finally halting, the vortex destabilizing and giving in as Marowit appeared from behind. Denial whirled onto the man as he began to talk, a finger moving down to halt her music as she stared at the unearthly man. He knew a great deal that. . .felt as if he shouldn't. The term he held for Dante was out of date and out of use, and the tone he used 'It feels like he knows more than he's letting on.' Carefully the woman took a tentative step back, raising her machete up as she began a steady backpeddle away from the Baron, the alleyway now open from the invasive winds of the cyclone. Words were hanging in her throat, a retort balanced on her tongue, but she held back as the Triglav leader lurched into an attack, his speed once more savagely quick. Trying to defend against five independent weapons in the shape of fingers wouldn't bode well for the woman, resulting in her dropping to her right as he came in for the slash, rolling on her shoulder and into a standing position beside the man, making a swing of her weapon at his shoulder.
Covered in his essence of the void, Inferi moved along the alleyways, trying to figure where Despair would be. She went to make the call to Dante, so all she needed was shelter. Safety. The area didn't exactly emanate such a feeling freely, meaning there would only be a few places she could be- which quickly narrowed down to one. Inferi's glowing red orbs fell upon three white runes that flashed brightly to his- an allies- eyes. The little symbol began to glow red the longer he stared at them, a line coming from the center one and beginning to travel away, tracking the route that Snuka took. The three runes were of a select set that all Companions had to know- they all had their meanings, and all would only show themselves to friends, until they dispersed naturally. These three were an alarm. A code for danger. Upon seeing them, the hulking giant picked up his pace, beginning down the alleyway with a purpose, his dark form draped in the shadowy mist as he moved ahead.
Holes burst into the chest of Bagudi, ripping him open with wounds the size of artillery shells- yet the Eldritch Abomination hardly reacted. The shots to the torso continued to do little, resulting in only the same deep, drowning laugh that mocked the usual attempts as the Irkalla leader twisted around, rapidly stomping forth and crossing the distance with a purpose, moving after the Motherfuck. Each tentacle and limb was splayed out, elongating and wiggling away from the center mass of the beast, appearing like hair with too much static cling. "Do you really believe you will win, boy? Does your heart tell you so?" Each word was spoken with a creepily joyful chime, the drowning voice letting its continued mocking be hung openly as it lurched its entire form forth. Each tentacle swung from different angles at the Gunmen, both arms exploding forth to wrap about his torso and midsection if possible.
ArchAngelMike9 - 06/15/2017
Zou reigned himself in, keeping his right eye closed as his left peeked upward, the damage having thoroughly enraged him now. The words the man spoke even more causing him to bristle as the serpentine form began to dance upward into the air, gaining more altitude. "I did not strike out at the city- I struck out at you, an assailant! I have yet to recreate my deeds thirty years ago. But I am feeling up to the task at the  moment." Meng loosed another roar, the golden energy forming in each of his front arms, immersed deep into the claws.  The same glow expanding from his claws and crawling up his body, encasing his light blue and yellow scales with his magic as he began to rapidly slither through the air, gliding forth at wild speeds. Lightning began to befall him mid-charge, ionizing strikes bombarding the scaled form of Meng, some deflecting off and soaring into the city below, striking a building or street. Each blast was like a physical strike to the aged man, a heavy blow he could of taken with ease in his youth, but was now slowing him immensely- and he was diving directly into the thick of the onslaught.
Lowering his head, the Emperor crashed into the floating sphere that super-charged each attack, another horrific roar escaping his form as the electricity ran wild upon him, arcing up and down his long torso, crackling against his skull and seeping passed his magical defense. With the golden aura of magic that encased him shattering, he did his best to push through, launching to the other side, and shoving the two glowing orbs of magic into his maw, pressing down and then releasing another breath of violence at the hopefully much closer and off-guard Bellomo- The beam was slightly wider than the last, losing a little height to make a longer horizontal plane. The blast did not last as long as the last two, cutting off a second earlier. The gargantuan form of the wyrm heaved with heavy breaths, a soreness tingling all over that was increasingly growing to pain- Meng had not aged as gracefully as he'd of hoped, such a feat would of hardly phased a Dragon Emperor thirty years younger, but now? It was like he had lasted a round with a heavy weight boxer. He ached, he was out of breath, and he was not keen on another round- if he could even last it.
In the heart of the city, the chaos had fully expanded. The crowds of local gangs and Irkalla grunts had moved from looting to in-fighting and finally to fighting the local resistance mounting against them. Nearly two hundred had been rapidly thinned down to only a hundred and twenty, and the numbers were dwindling fast. A blur of motion moved about groups of anarchists and looters, rapidly striking them down with each motion- Ember was making swift work of the grunts before her. Every bullet and every strike only fueled her, making her faster and stronger. Jetting forth, a singular flinger flicked against the chest of a man, sending him soaring back, smacking against the ground with enough power to crack the paved area. The hooded Baroness scanned the region, slowly making out those of interest around- The two figures in the center, the Irkalla members in charge of inciting the riot, she'd been working her way towards. She'd seen the larger of the two easily strike down any who came at them, a swing of a sword or a blast of dark magic from a finger tip. The smaller one occasionally adding in a laugh at the scenes but nothing else to the fray. 'I'll fucking break them both for this bullshit. Murias does not need this.' With savage intent, the Goddess of War made her way forward again, rapidly crossing ten feet in a blink of an eye and delivering a powerful kick to another man, caving in his chest with little issue.
Archibald - 06/15/2017
The machete swing met a hard ‘thud’ as it struck Marowit’s shoulder, despite it being covered only in plain clothing and the remnants of the vestments that were partially molded into a pair of wings behind him. His clothing were cut open, revealing a metallic color underneath where Snuka’s weapon met. The retaliation for the attack was quick, Marowit moved forward with right handed claw, a dark energy building as malicious words leaked from Koschei’s lips, dangerously mixing with the air and giving form to the man’s magic. “Ahza’p Ioutta Celbal.” Dark, barbed wire appeared in his right hand, the magic he was building completely transformed. The end of the barbed wire seemingly had no limits, it was lit aflame with a dark ember, growing outwards, “burning” more of the weapon into existence upon the mental prodding of Marowit. The dark whip of wire was sent against Cassie Snuka the Denial, latching onto her form and crawling over it if it made contact, growing at its own fast rate with every intention of surrounding and binding the woman tightly. ”Not much a fan of talking? I thought it was the Void caller that was mute? Perhaps you removed your tongue for solidarity. .” Marowit’s key ability, behind his passive influence over the memories of people (specifically of him) was being able to understand and know others through simple discussion. A few loose words were a Rosetta Stone to the entity from another age. The more an opponent spoke, the easier a time Marowit had predicting them, almost completely reading their thoughts and motives seconds before they carried out their next strikes on him. But, the Grim Companions seemed a silent and somber lot, as Ronald proved earlier with Cyrus and Cassie was proving to him.(edited)
The illusive Joe remained dancing as far back as he could, constantly refilling his shotgun with ammo and firing off at Bagudi with the hopes of splitting the demon’s body in twain. It so far yielded no results, giving The Mother Fucking an increasingly difficult time as the cancerous aura of the being slipped further into Joe’s mind. It was making him slow, not by hampering his physical abilities, but by keeping his mind second guessing himself. Cutting off what was originally sharp and flexible reaction times and swift movements to rather choreographed movements that happened seconds after Bagudi’s attack happened, instead of the usual anticipatory movements. ”You think I’m too scared of you? Some demon filth? Nah, you’re no real threat.” He put up his tough front as the tentacles came at him from different angles. ’Left. Right. Right. Left.’ The Mother Fucking jumped back into the air and into the waiting grasp of a tentacle, having taken too long to make up his mind. ”Son of a. .” It left him like a hiss, the right hand man of the Barca Gang leader suddenly filled with an increased dread and panic as he tore his eyes across to the demonic ‘visage’ in front of him. ”Ha. . .Ha.” Joe dropped the shotgun and attempted to grab hold of his ammo belt, intending to swallow everything in it before he was fully gripped and torn apart.
Bellomo had sent one of his strongest attacks at the dragon emperor but the tough scaly hide of the beast was proving to be too much for Bellomo’s lightning barrage. ’Where the fuck are Ronald and Marowit?’ He pondered, daring to not take his eyes off the dragon and scan the city for them. Capone’s ‘allies’ were suppose to be under Bellomo’s direct command when in Donald’s city, not running amuck in the mess below. ’They helped cause this. If Ronald didn’t jump in and Marowit wasn’t a bloodthirsty demon, Zou would’ve killed the void terrors and the Irkalla long ago.’ Now? Now the city was being rampaged through, and even if it wasn’t Zou’s intention to destroy it, Donald wouldn’t hope to count the lives that he already took, not to mention the property damage done from his multiple blasts. The dragon emperor lunged forward, taking the crackling orb of condensed electricity and destroying it before sending yet another of his draconic blasts at Donald. The distance between them was smaller now and the size of the attack would be larger - Bellomo could see that already. The hovering man stepped backwards in preparation to escape but the dragon’s fury came quicker, engulfing the region where Donald hovered and forcing the man into a defensive position. His arms instinctively guarded his face and neck while his legs rose to their knees, trying to block as much of the lower torso as possible. The force of the attack alone tossed Donald back, singeing his lightning coated body before it was finished. When the dust and smoke cleared, Donald’s form could be seen across Murias, carried by the force of the blast and left to collapse to the city below, burnt to a crisp black color as he descended with no signs of consciousness or life.
As the War Goddess pummeled a man, crushing his chest with a kick and sending back into the fold of the gang, a figure rose from within it, shabby looking and unsuspecting at first. The figure had a presence that many of the others hadn’t, possibly being more magically gifted or physically capable, though his choice of clothing didn’t help to impress or strike fear in anyone. He wore a dark jacket with the zipper only slightly opened, allowing the dark shirt underneath to peek through. The jacket was long, covering all of his torso and sliding down his back for some distance and sported a single skull logo on it. obscuring the top most portion of his dark green camo-trousers. Chains hung at the side of his pockets, likely to keep his wallet and other personal information safe from pickpockets. While his clothing made him look like a man who perhaps fell on hard times, his height did the job of making a person step back. Just inches short of seven feet tall, the man’s single uncovered eye and shabby beard helped to paint a picture of an experienced man. The man had been contracted days ago for the job, living in Murias’ slums with most other common trash and criminals, laying low after just weeks of breaking out of a British high security prison, mistaken as just another thug. Not that he minded too much, living on a low profile was all fine for the moment. The man might’ve been familiar to those more accustomed to older names, Baron War figures, but to those who were too young would be easy to pass by the man without a second glance. ”Now you’re a tough one,” His voice said with a surprising amount of warmth to it. ”Got any business stopping us from looting? Someone put you up to it? You could make more with us, you know.” The man said with a side snicker, waiting to see if the woman would stand down before assaulting her. Violence was fine. Sometimes fun. But an easy victory was preferred.
Dimas had to stop after he ran the length of the street, turning as he saw something fall through the air and the lone dragon in the air. ”God damn it. Where are you?” Dimas thought, nay, panicked as he looked around the streets. Thugs, killers, victims were everywhere. Dimas had no inclination to stop any of them, they seemed to mostly ignore the shirtless and injured man. ’Likely confusing me for one of them.’ He thought with a downward frown. ”SARAH?” He shouted, risking their attention on him as he pushed his feet forward. ”DIANA? SAY SOMETHING IF YOU ARE OUT HERE!” While Jotunn wasn’t someone he particularly cared for, Sarah wouldn’t leave the “child” for any reason, especially not in a situation like this.
ArchAngelMike9 - 06/15/2017
"Oh shi-" The moment her weapon bounced off Marowit's hide instead of doing any damage, the woman was rapidly backing up, drawing her weapon back- though the Baron was mightily too quick for her. Barbed wire crawled through the air, attempting to weave itself over her, her weapon slinging upward and striking the thickets of it away as best she could. 'Shit. This is not good. I can't compete with this guy. He's strong and fast, and doesn't rely on magic enough.' Snuka could only grimace as her weapon was entangled by the wire, which quickly rolled down the blade and onto her hand, moving further up her arm rapidly, sinking its teeth into her flesh with each inch covered. A cry escaped her throat, a tug of her arm being immediately regretted as she reeled from the pain. Denial was the least set for direct combat out of all the companions- she was their support. Her Nullification magic could disperse any magic that wasn't connected to an origin source- like the whip was in the grip of Marowit. The best she could do would be knock it away, but it'd cover too much area too fast. Any chance of retort from her was killed when the wire kept encroaching toward her face- she wasn't boastful or loud in combat to begin with. But outmatched and outgunned, she had little to say to the talkative opponent.
'I've got no choice.' Denial took a deep breath, another moan of pain escaping as the barbed wire encroached up to her shoulder, having plucked dozens of horrific wounds into her arm so far. Denial had two real abilities: Her nullification magic, which was her key usage. And her Frenzy capability. To do away with mental inhibitions and survival instinct- it wasn't fantastic, but with no hope of escape, her only chance was to fight. Allowing the blood dribbling from her arm to stay in her gaze for a moment as she yanked at the barbed wire, her eyes grew wide, a deranged look seeping across her face as her pupils dilated, her nostrils flaring. In a sudden display of reckless abandon, the woman leaped forward with more speed and power than she'd displayed up until this point- her muscles restrictions against harming themselves done away with- launching at Marowit and slamming the barbed wire covered Machete against the skull of the unearthly man with all her might.
As Bellomo plummeted to the city below, the Emperor continued to breath catching his breath as his serpentine form slightly coiled and curled in the air, slowly ever moving to maintain his flight. His one good eye began to scan the city, looking at the general chaos below, 'Such a display of madness. It could not come just from the anarchy my presence brings- it did not occur like this all those years ago. These people are not acting on their own volition.' As the Emperor watched over the streets, his gaze dropped upon the large, shadowy figure of the Demon Bagudi- the being he had briefly seen a glimpse of when he and his guard were attacked. An Eldritch Abomination. One of the cowardly rib-stickers who ambushed him in passing. He'd have to figure out in due time how they knew of his presence so quickly. But at the moment, only one plan of action seemed fitting. He had regained some breath, some composure. The aches were growing by the moment, the immense electrical discharge having done a fair bit of damage unseen due in part to the scales. But it could wait until he was away from the blasted city to tend to. Spinning in the air, the Oriental dragon rocketed downward, dive bombing straight at the ground before leveling out feet above the street. At speeds rivaling those of vehicles on the expressway, the Dragon Emperor shot down the road, his claws outstretched.
The Tentacles wrapped about the arms of Joe, the arms moving to clutch him with all they had- Bagudi's appendages were quick, made only quicker by the consistent fear that chewed away at the minds of his enemies. "You speak so much, yet you understand so little- If you do not fear me now, you shall just before your end." The drowning voice was growing darker, harsher as the Eldritch Abomination began to engulf and compress Joe all about, trying to squeeze him tightly- but the grip died as He who Sees Fear suddenly blew forward, releasing the Barca member as Zou barreled into his back. The immense strength of the Dragon Emperor easily handled the fourteen foot monstrosity, soaring down the street and slamming the monstrosities body against the ground, letting it drag and rip across the cement, before Meng began his rapid ascent to the sky, claws clutching and tearing at the Void Being, tentacles and arms smacking and striking him in return.
Ember stopped in her tracks, staring at the man before her with about as sour a disposition as she generally had. She wasn't in any mood for the kind of guy this seemed to be- and her sour lips turning to a riled snarl at his words made such feelings known. "I'm not a fucking degenerate, for starters. Not here to make any god damn money from this kind of shit." Her words came out as harsh as they were meant to be, a verbal attack towards the man and those around him. As her words left her mouth, she darted forward to chase up the verbal assault with physical battery, closing the distance between herself and the man extremely swift- her kinetic energy rising to make her move much faster, easily twice that of an Olympic athlete. As soon as the distance was closed, she swung a forearm at the mans skull, the blow being delivered like a swing of a sledgehammer, much more powerful than she had any right to generate from such an attack- the great deal of  kinetic energy stored and manipulated from those she'd fought so far being expelled with masterful dosage as she went.
The street that Dimas moved through was still within the realm of chaos spreading from the heart of the city. Men and women, the trash of Murias in particular, skittering about, running from alley to alley with goods in their hands, stolen from the massive looting spree unfolding. Some were brawling in the streets, magic being hurled in every direction from all over the place. Buildings were damaged, the street ruined- yet as Solon screamed about, and moved down the road, the others on the streets began to flee, taking to the alleyways and darting off, those in the midst of fights craned their necks and cocked their heads before putting down arms for a mutual retreat- but they did not look at Chernobog's champion before the fled. But instead the two figures approaching the heart of the city from down the road. A towering man, standing at 6'4 took wide strides forward, orange gaze upon Dimas- but staring through him, as if he was a non issue. His flesh and clothing were all on the gray scale, his hair included, leaving him looking washed of all color. Metal tabs in his ears were the only adornment of jewelry on his simplistically clothed frame. Beside him, a much more colorful woman stepped. She was tall as well, only five inches beneath the man, and built wide and strong. Her flesh had a blue tone to it, as if bathed in a uv light, and her hair was of a similar, but more paled color. A cigarette dangled in her lips, a cold gaze lingered on Dimas, looking at him, rather than through. Her long, high-necked jacket fluttering slightly as constant waves of pressure flared around the city, a breeze that usually didn't exist thanks to the consistent usage of magic at the moment.
The Paenitentia were a lot those in the know could recognize by looks- their's being so striking. The duo who had simpy appeared fifty years ago were some of the oldest, yet somehow the most quiet Robber Barons in the game. They did not often make big splashes, and when they did, the results were striking. They were brutal killers, and savage combatants, who rarely played political games or got involved when they didn't have to- but the two moving towards the chaos denoted they may be this time. They strolled quickly at Solon, but made no move or even gesture of engagement upon him- intending to walk right by, if allowed.
Archibald - 06/16/2017
Marowit grinned viciously as the woman came at him, forcing his killing instrument back at him with her cutting tool. The otherworldly entity was surprised at how quickly she moved now compared to before, but the Robber Baron was far from overwhelmed by it. Choosing to take the attack head on, the barbed wire and machete struck his head, meeting a resounding ‘kaplunk’ as the layer of skin was cut, revealing the metallic silver color that became the rest of his body. The gold eyes practically taunted her with the joyous gaze they displayed, but Marowit was far from still as Denial attacked. His right hand morphed, the silver heating up rapidly and cooling, forming a single screw-driver like point out of the combined tips of his fingers. When the machete struck him, Koschei was determined to finish off his foe as well. The pointed remnants of his hand were sent out with wicked speed as the leader of the Triglav never broke eye contact, his smile cracking as the killing tool was set again his opponent. Words escaped his mouth, unholy in the way he spoke them, ”Nymanno Geddeg,” A dark purple barrier formed around Marowit’s form exactly, only darkening as seconds passed. A second barrier of a slightly later shade formed around Marowit, Cassie, and a few feet further from the demonic epicenter. A third and final barrier of the lightest shade formed that covered buildings partially and much of the street. Within the second barrier, Cassie could feel energy float in the air, condensed and hostile, almost like gas waiting for ignition. It was denser still in Marowit’s, and the least dense in the largest barrier. ”It was a pleasure, Cassie. You’d of done better to stick by Depression instead of crawling to Erebus.” The gold eyes were practically shining against the purple fog of the first barrier, obscuring his form with the sole exception of those glowing jewels. ”Shatter.”
The effects of the Nymanno Geddeg curse were instantaneous. The purple barrier that surrounded Marowit Koschei quite literally shattered like gas, the volatile energy inside exploding outwards as if TnT was ignited moments earlier. The shockwave swept over to Cassie - assuming she was inside the barrier the Baron formed - and carried outwards to the limits of the second barrier before exploding past that, invading the space of the final barrier and laying waste to the objects stuck in its field. Rooftops from buildings, walls, the street and stands all were reduced to rubble as the force from the central barrier swept out and struck out at everything in the second two barriers.
The Mother Fucking wasn’t willing to give up. He struggled. He protested internally. His death wouldn’t be at the hands of some monster in Murias, it wasn’t dignified! Joe would go out as the hero, saving the life of someone important and having children named after him for generations. But, it seemed the man’s ideals were wasting away as his body cracked with the pressure from the surrounding tentacles, causing a desperate gasp at air before a fear induced scream escaped Joe’s mouth. The Gangster was still holding a handful of elemental and magical bullets, intending to toss them in his mouth and “pull the trigger”, so to say, in front of the demon. It was a futile effort as the demon continued to squeeze and command Joe’s attention. That was, of course, until a mother fucking dragon flew in and struck Bagudi. The tentacles that wrapped tightly around Joe’s body fell limp before the man was dropped to the ground beneath him, left writhing for a moment as he collected oxygen. Joe didn’t get the opportunity to see Bagudi’s own face as he was dragged off, only to see as the dragon lifted the Eldritch horror into the air. Laying on his back, Joe shook his head. . Wanting to smile and laugh up the twist of fates, but finding his body rigid still from the experience. ”Damn. . It means Donald failed.” Joe realized, recalling his boss taking on the beast some time ago.
The single eye from the homeless criminal confronting Ember widened when she began to move, noticeably tracking her movements - quick as they were - and tensing his body in preparation for the attack. The recently escaped convict didn’t know how the woman moved at such accelerated rates, but he wasn’t willing to take a strike of that calibre when he witnessed an ally have his chest caved in with a much lesser attack. ”Crazy ass hoe,” He said in a mix of shock and disdain for her choice, none of which outwardly hatred filled, but clearly annoyed and riled up. The tall individual moved backwards, flicking a finger on his right finger. A gleam of light resonated in the air for a second before one of the many criminals and gangsters around the individual were tossed forward against his will, a loose and shrill crime ringing through the air as he was used to intercept the Goddess of War and hopefully slow her attack. Regardless, Ovid Cynemær wasn’t going to risk being on the receiving end of Ember’s attack, his body still moving as the sacrificial lamb was sent forward, the escapee carefully hiding himself beyond two others. ”I’m not keen violence when it’s not needed, but you clearly need to take a rest and cool down.” Ovid’s right hand fidgeted again, sending out razor sharp and deadly thin wire at the charging woman, the barest presence of magic on them to enhance their cutting potential.
Dimas’ eyes shot to the strange couple, a hostile snarl on his face. Another pair of twisted Barons engaging in the conflict. . ’At least I’m not the only big name causing trouble here,” Dimas thought with some degree of satisfaction, ignorant to the chaos going on everywhere else. ’The last thing I need is for all of this to be pegged on me.’ Solon appreciated the fame he garnered in his youth but now the killer was past the point where it appealed to him. He didn’t have anyone to launder it over anymore. ”Color me shocked the two of you are apart of this miss.” Solon said, not so much moved by the pair when it came to reputations or overall battle prowess. He stood tall, letting them pass as he put off an air of intimidation himself. Solon began to move past them once he was assured the demented duo wouldn’t attempt anything, eyes geared for any signs of his companions.
ArchAngelMike9 - 06/16/2017
Snuka could only watch as the screwdriver-esque hand plowed right through the middle of her torso, ripping flesh and crackling bone that stood in its path as it viciously bit through her. The survival instincts were abandoned for the faint hope the strength and speed she gained would be enough to possibly push him back. Even as the metal pierced her, she swung and clanked with her own weapon, striking as harshly as she could with the machete against the silver head, as if in some vain attempt to crack through. The Barriers forming around them were not in her minds eye for the moment as she writhed against the horrific pain of the barbed wire and the hand driven into her abdomen. But soon enough, her eyes blinked up, noting the lighting shift about them, the colored tints that arrived with the barriers placed by the Triglav Leader. It took seconds before her disconnected mind began to react, her left hand rising up with a small white orb forming in her palms, her nullification magic ready to kick into play- but the unearthly man's words were quicker. The first barrier brutalized her form upon its destruction, the shockwave and pressure change coming from all angles and striking upon her with no relief. Near immediately after loosing a guttural scream of pain, a whole bodied noise that originated deep within her stomach, consciousness left her. The second and third barriers shattering only added to the already horrific destruction. Her arms and legs limply reacted, moving from the destructive force, but little else showed what had happened. Her ribs were broken inward, her arms broken in numerous positions, her legs nearly shattered into a hundred pieces within. All of her organs had been slammed from the wave of pressure, quickly stealing the life from her, leaving only a limp corpse leaning against Marowit's hand.
The Dragon Emperor spiraled and roared through the air, carrying the Eldritch Abomination with a sheer grit and determination upward, slamming the monstrosity against the roof of the cavern. Once more the world beneath shook, the ceiling rattling and the massive clap of destruction wafting over the city, the Oriental Dragon's claws moving upward, across the torso of his newly acquired target, shredding the flesh, golden light congealing in his maw as well as the energy returned to his throat, preparing another devastating, monstrous blast soon. "How did you know I would be here? How did you set up such chaos and treachery? Speak you scum of the void, speak!" His thick accent was lifted in a roar, the dragon pulling back only minutely, just to ram the large nightmare-inducing beast harder against the ceiling still, causing another rumble to shake the caverns about.
"I asked she who sees. She saw it. She foretold it." Still the drowning voice sounded mocking, as if there was joy behind the mask. The Red, glowing orbs of eyes scanned the dragon that pinned the Eldritch Monstrosity, looking over its heavily armored form, looking for any chink it could use to its advantage. Tentacles and limbs crawled and clutched all over, trying to find any leverage as the masked terror fought every movement of Zou that it could. "I did not set up chaos. You incited it. You forced its hand." A dark limb lifted, wide strikes slamming against the head of the Dragon in repeated powerful blows, ones that did little to shake the resolve or rage of the Dragon Emperor. With no words of worth coming from the dreadspawn before him, Meng loosed his roar yet again, the golden beam encapsulating the upper portion of the monster and blowing through it, a shrill screech coming into the air with it as the golden magic blew past, chewing into the Bedrock behind and splintering yet more debris down upon the community below.
With ease, Ember's arm splintered bone and broke flesh, blowing into the sacrificial lamb and decimating the man's body. The control of Kinetic energy was a decimating feat- making her blows dozens of times more powerful than they had any right to be, her speed straddling lines it shouldn't. As the attack left its mark, she pulled back, staring with steel slits upon the man who had decided to stand in her way. His presence was driving her into a rage- the events unfolding around her were disgusting in their own right. Widescale looting, rioting and destruction to gain off the disaster that struck? It made her blood boil within her veins. Adjusting the energy in her moving form, the War Goddess swung at the Patched Man, covering distance in single leaps and bounds that seemed ridiculous. The sharp wire that found itself in her path and hardly visible did not cut right into her like it might others- upon impact, the kinetic energy was drawn away from it and the area it struck, resulting in not deep punctures, but instead long, perfect cuts along her arms and shoulder- the effect of moving against the wire at rapid speeds, instead of allowing it to pierce her. The pain that radiated from the new wounds forced her nostrils to flare, eyes to widen slightly as she came in close, swinging both palms upward at the two meatshields presented to her. The strikes of her palms were packing the force of a shotgun in each, a ridiculous amount exploding outward as she tried to push through the two before her, and make a powerful and explosive kick at the Escapee's center mass.
Bray said little as he and his companion moved for Solon, his eyes refocusing upon the Robber Baron before him and making note of his presence, but not quite caring at the moment who it was. He did not speak or make a noise, the Gray-scaled man simply continuing forth as if unable to halt on his defined path, each step a practiced and meticulous gaunt, arms rigid at the side and spine straight as could be. As they moved closer, Paige's own gaze slitted and squinted, glaring into Dimas, the woman halting right beside the Dark Sorcerer as he spoke, listening to his words and letting silence fall between them heavily, almost intensely, before she spoke, "Do not interfere with us beyond this, Solon." With the sentiment shared, she continued forward, keeping in time with Bray as they made pace for the center of the city, their focus not on the other Robber Baron's present around them.
The community was in chaos all around Chernobog's champion. Shouting and fighting was pouring from every angle, bodies were not uncommon in the streets. Buildings were broken into, decimated or burning as the rioting and looting reached its peak- those the city scorned or despised so much, finding their revenge in its most dire hour. The street rats, thugs, criminals, and scum came out in droves, most not hired or approached by the dark forces that spent so much to ensure it would go as it had- mob mentality was simply in rule, now. There was no sign of the Chosen Assassin or the Tot she carried around, and with the spread of the event, the girl could be anywhere in such a large fray, leaving little to get a lead off of or find. A three way intersection- to the north, east and south- stood before Solon soon as he moved down the road, smoke lingering down the eastern route from flames, and brawls appearing to take place on the northern route between two gangs who used the chaos as times to lash out at one another. Down the Southern road was rampant looting and anarchy, with tags of both magical and spray-paint variants being put across buildings, windows shattered and goods smuggled about. The occasional dark-robed figure darted about, but little else gave the Sorcerer any clue of where to go further still.
Archibald - 06/16/2017
The exploding  bodies and gore, not to mention the lack of damage done to the Goddess of War before him, made Ovid quite nervous. Had he loss his stuff or had the bar been raised since his time prowling the free world? It was a fear of the man’s, becoming normal after years of being at the top of the world. Cynemær saw the oncoming woman raise a leg after she disposed of the random thugs Ovid carelessly used as body shields. ”You’re quite something,” The man remarked, eyeing the foot that was flying at him with no small amount of worry. His body lurched backwards, feet quickly carrying him away as stray wires cut through those behind him, giving Cynemær a free ride from the center of the mob and closer towards the outskirts. Even with his enhanced speed, the momentum of the woman caught Ovid in the chest and propelled him down the street, letting his body twist across the length of the city center as a trail of blood pointed towards where the body lay. The shabbily dressed man was wheezing and coughing as a dent in his chest became apparent, the organs stored in the man’s upper torso feeling absolutely eviscerated. ’And my body’s not normal,’ He thought while writhing, ’This gal’s a dangerous one. . Some strong blows from her, unexpectedly strong.’ Ovid slowly pulled himself up across the street, a hand holding his ribcage delicately as he watched out for any immediate follow ups. Slowly, the man began to straighten up, a pained visage clear for Ember’s eyes as the damage done to him seemed to be immense, but not quite enough to push the jail breaker out of the fight for good
. ”Might’ve not taken you as seriously as I should’ve.” He admitted, letting his hand drop from the ribcage as he could feel his body begin to fix itself up, bones straightening and tissue regrowing. ”My offer still stands. One good kick’s not gonna change my mind.” Ovid said with a lesser smile before tensing up and taking off in Ember’s direction. Wires tied to his fingers vibrated dangerously, magic causing the movement as he sent a hand forward, letting the wires display their deadliness seconds before they’d come in contact with Ember. As they swayed closer to the ground, the briefest of contact caused the wires to tear into the ground with ease, sometimes inches deep with the most minimal of contact.
Marowit eyed the likely dead form of Cassie with a sinister interest, his lips curling upwards as he paced forward. The man’s silver augmentations faded, letting the skin return to most parts. His fingers clutched the woman’s head and forced her head upwards as the Triglav Leader spied the vacant gaze she gave him. ”Well. . It was probably better this way.” Marowit admitted, letting her go would’ve risked Erebus learning of his identity and attacking the Black Hand - the alliance was useful for the moment. Although, Denial’s ability to retain her memories of Marowit wasn’t thoroughly proven. The initiate curse placed on the man banished thoughts of fame from his mind, those of weaker constitutions failed to remember Koschei as quickly as hours after interacting with him, replaced with a painfully hard mental block to get around. The stronger a person, their magic, or their mind to repel the curses effects, the easier a time they would have recalling him and the more vivid his face would become. ’I don’t know if she’d of been one of the few exceptions to the rules.’ Marowit mused. The curse provided some use, allowing Marowit to commit any manner of crimes onto others and eventually walk away clean. Or, so it was until video cameras became wide spread and captured his image. . . ”That artist will want the body, I’m sure of that. Denial’s a candidate for our plans. . But.” He tore off what remained of her shirt, silver appearing at the tips of his fingers as he began to claw into her flesh an intricate symbol, that of an Eastern dragon spawning as much of her tender flesh as possible. ”Setting Death on the Dynasty is a promising situation.” Once he was done, Marowit stood, loosely debating if it was worth clawing her soul from the grasp of the underworld. Marowit ultimately decided against such an action and took flight, heading in the opposite direction of the large dragon.
Dimas eyed the woman slowly, the hard look in his eyes expressing the same sentiment back at the duo. ”Don’t cross me, Paige.” Her vernalized as they all went their own way. Solon kept moving quickly, constantly calling out the names of his two companions while throwing out the occasional spell. He received no answer, no sign of life, nothing. They were gone, or he was lost, or they were. ’They made it out and are hiding somewhere, I’m sure of that.’ Dimas reassured himself. . He couldn’t explain it, but something inside him knew that Sarah was alive. ’That doesn’t mean she’s safe. . She could’ve fled to the Chosen’s teleportation hub, or somewhere worse.’ Having Sarah return to the Church of the Chosen was an unpleasant thought. Chernobog’s Champion would do everything in his power to keep the girl from going back. .If she returned to the community, Dimas would be forced to strike her down eventually - Chernobog would see to that. ’And that’s something I don’t care for. Not at all.’ He’d send her off somewhere far away, get Draco and eventually find someone to rescue Benny for Sarah. ’Hell, I’ll do it if it means she cuts all contact with that demonic cult.’ It wouldn’t be good for the girl in the long run, even without Dimas, he had no doubts in his mind that Gregori would see to it all unnecessary elements were removed when he took power.
ArchAngelMike9 - 06/16/2017
Marks stood with a snarl still upon her face, a strong power stance her usual disposition in a fight as she stared down the man who had challenged her. "Get the fuck out of this city, and maybe I won't fucking kill you." She spat the words, lips curling by the edge. The Goddess of War was a hot head. A woman who was dangerous and easy to anger, a terrible combination, as many had to find out. She never considered herself a 'criminal' to the eyes of any but the SRRA- She didn't steal, she didn't rob, she didn't assault willy-nilly to those who were undeserving. She dealt her blows selectively, always paid her portion, and abided close enough to rules. . .when she was 'allowed' to. The likes of those in the city center? Looting, rioting and causing chaos? These people went against a lot of the woman's views on things- they were criminals. Disgusting, advantage taking predators. And this man was no different. She made her stance clear. If he chose to continue the fight? It would be his fault. Once more her momentum shifted, the woman flying forward with an extreme level of kinetic energy behind her movement, feet pushing off the ground every five or six feet was all she required.
This time her attention was given to the wires, the blood dribbling from her arm reminding her of their existence. With the wires coming at her, she swung and pivoted on her heel, arms outstretched and form halting as the deadly razor wire came against her. Each one struck violently on her form, cutting her skin upon contact- but then they halted. The kinetic energy drawn out of them entirely upon the barest contact with her skin. The wounds immediately began to gush, but the depth was superficial at best. Turning to look at the man from her pivoted position, a cut going from cheek to cheek and nipping the end of her nose, Marks' momentum leaped to life again, as she flung herself the much shorter distance at the man once his wires had been momentarily halted, a stiff palm aimed at his torso.
Each step was heavy, growing faster by the moment as the Giant followed the trail left by his companion in her emergency state. His void-covered body still writhing with darkness as he stomped up the alleyway, red eyes locked forward for any sight of Snuka. The large fist he possessed coiled and clenched, knuckles cracking beneath the layers he wore, readying for another slug fest. Inferi was the warrior of the Companion's, the chosen champion and fighter more often than not. Such a thing suited the mute- he certainly wasn't going to be the charismatic leader or singing bard. But in moments like this, it racked him with stress. The lives of the others meant a good deal to Despair. He knew well he could protect them- he always had. When they weren't around? When they were in danger? Such things weighed upon him heavily. Whatever befell Cassie, had forced her to make runes for danger, would soon have to face down the Right hand man of Death. As shadowy-boot clunked against the crackling pavement of the alley-way, a gargantuan burst came from just nearby. A shockwave flooded down the area between buildings, whipping up debris and garbage and rattling the buildings with a dire ferocity. Eyes widening at the blow, the Giant finally took to a sprint, raging down the straight away as he neared the source of the noise. He tried as best as possible not to run outside of combat- the armor he wore being quick to wear him out at high speeds. But as he turned the corner, heavy form clanking with each step, he knew he should of been running from the start. Sprinting.
A hand cut into the flesh of Cassie Snuka, pulling away from her prone form, ripping at the flesh and gliding through it with ease before the man took off. Unable to roar or to scream, Despair simply took off forward once more, sending out the six arms of darkness that stretched high into the air, turning to claws in his mounting rage as they clutched and clamped at the feet of the assailant. Only to narrowly miss as he took flight, soaring with ease just out of their range. The arms of the giant shook, his face beneath twitching and twisting, a snarl clawing its way out at the sight of what was before him. His conjured limbs receded back into the void as the man slowly dropped to a knee beside the desecrated corpse, a wavering hand moving out to rock the small woman, an attempt to wake her or rouse her. To feel the life in her. But the effort was in vain, nothing came from his attempts. Her mangled frame was evidence enough of such a thing. The fingers that touched Snuka slowly slid back, falling from her frame and to the ground beside her. Slowly, curling back into his palms as a fist formed once more. The want to scream, to cry and shout was fed into a singular action as Despair struck his mighty fist beside him- the strength of the blow rupturing the cement, cracks expanding outward across the alleyway from the powerful slam. In the small cloud of whipped up dust from the blow, the fist unfurled, the shadow covered index finger slowly tracing a form across the ground, a magical line tracing its path until a rune formed, a beacon for friends and allies, a message for those who could see and those who could receive it: A Death had occurred.
Archibald - 06/16/2017
It struck Cynemær as he watched her erase the momentum of his wires with immediate contact, reducing the level of damage they could do to minimal at best. ’She’s a bit like the Slow King, though he affected an entire area. She just keeps everything in contact with her incredibly slow. . Or speeds it up, which must be why her blows are so heavy.’ So she could stop objects in motion, which seemed to contradict Newton only slightly, but Ovid wasn’t a fan of physics himself. ’And the odds of her increasing her speed or the speed of objects in the same way but reversed isn’t outlandish, either. That or she’s just really strong. Also not outlandish.’ The man thought as she came at him again, the stiff palm descending on the man in thought. The attack actually caught him off guard, Cyn’s attention being completely spent on figuring out what happened to his wire, rather than focusing on the approaching Baroness. A gruff moan escaped Cyn’s mouth as the palm’s strike resonated in his chest, the damage from the kick still fresh and the second attack only adding to it. Ovid was pushed back, but to his credit he didn’t falter like the last time, instead he glared down at the woman as he skid to a halt nearly ten feet away. The black jacket he wore was stained with a crimson color, blending in rather well with the dark article of clothing but giving it a sheen. ”I don’t get why you’re so upset about this, you just killed at least twenty people since I got here. I’ve killed maybe eight.” Ovid rolled his eye, looking at Ember with a new degree of caution, but also confidence. He knew roughly what she was capable of, which meant. . ’Setting traps. I can. . I can do that. . .I don’t want to though.’ Battling to the death wasn’t. .Appealing. Not in the least. Looting was, but it became very apparent the woman to his front was going to toss him over Murias until Ovid could cut her body enough to bleed her dry.
”Alright. You’ve impressed me a little,” Cynemær remarked, as if he were the one with too consecutive and successful blows on his opponent, ”Think it over. You and I could be a pretty good team, maybe find some others and start up a band? I think that this hero shtick is going to make you sick, if you’re half the hardass you portray yourself to be.” The wires at his finger tips suddenly disconnected, hitting the ground harmlessly, ”Just ask around for Cyn if you wanna take me up on that offer..  .I’ll be off then, no use fighting you for some spoils here when I’m sure else where is safer.” Cynemær turned his back to the woman. . Half expecting to have his head kicked off. . He’d just walk away maturely, certainly his opponent would act the same? ”Maybe not. .” He began to whisper, that was until he saw the beacon in the sky. ”Looks like someone’s in trouble.”
Chernobog’s Champion was running through Murias like a man possessed. Criminals. Honest Magi fleeing the damage, stories of the Dragon Emperor and other figures drifting through the air. .’What the fuck happened here?’ Dimas was forced to ask himself yet again. This wasn’t an everyday occurrence, not even when so many famous figures and powerful players gathered. It was an extreme rarity that anyone was bold enough to break out into a conflict of this magnitude. Dimas was ready to call it quits and resort to Chernobog to locate the others, the demon might be able to pick up a trail on a former thrall better than his champion. The sudden burst of light that hit the air stalled that option. ’. . Who’d be asking for help in the middle of this mess. . ? It’d draw everyone towards you. .” Dimas thought blankly, missing the importance of the flare. ”It better not be Sarah or Jotunn. . She should know better than to call every scumbag and murderer over to their location.” Dimas moved faster now, his hands coating themselves in the dark magic as he tore through buildings with ease to create shortcuts to the beacon. The Warlock had interrupted at least one fight on the way, heading back towards the city center of all places, before he discovered the true meaning behind the flare. As he broke through the last wall, sending dust and loose debris all over the wider street, Solon craned his neck around to observe those in the street. Buildings were heavily damaged and the paved road was desolated, especially towards the market center of Murias. What kept Dimas from moving past the beacon, assuming that the caster (Sarah) had run off, was the remarkably familiar form of Cyrus - one of Dante’s Grim Companions. ”Who’s that he’s holding. .?” Dimas muttered, his cold eyes focusing on the two and then the beacon before it all came to light. Then that means Death is coming to Murias…’
ArchAngelMike9 - 06/16/2017
Blood consistently dribbled from the wounds the Goddess of War had suffered, staining her progressively more scarlet, matching her dressing motif even further. Steel gray eyes centered upon the man as he slowly retreated, making his comments and calling an end to the bout. Part of her wanted to strike at him, finish him for good, but she refrained, instead choosing to respond, staying rooted where she was. "Fuck off. Try your bullshit with someone else, talk to me again and I'll fucking take off y-our. . .head. . ." Her attention followed his gaze, turning back to the beacon that gleamed through the sky, letting itself be known and slowly gathering the attention of those around, however briefly. Most would only see it as a grand dispersal of magic, a flare for help- But Marks felt what it was, immediately. Someone had died. Someone she knew had fallen, though who she couldn't say. The feeling rattled through her, causing her stomach to lurch downward. Her gaze flashed back, shooting daggers at the Razor-Wire-Wielder, and glancing beyond him to the two cloaked Irkalla in the center of the square. They could wait. All here, could in fact, wait. Her momentum came to her in an instant, engulfing her body as she leapt forward, rapidly gaining distance to where the beacon was coming from. Whoever it was, they were a friend. And someone would pay for it.
High in the air, the Dragon Emperor loosed the form of the Dreadspawn, allowing the corpse of the monster to plummet to the ground below. The lightning had worn upon him, his frame was aching and he was immensely tired. His good eye turned back, scanning the city below- Gau was moving slightly. Huang was barely alive, but the area about them was relatively open, clear of major conflict. They could break off and take cover until it all blew over, and they could make a quick exit. It was his only strategy beyond just launching into the fray once more- but all of those who attacked him were dealt with, aptly. Spiraling downward, the long serpentine form gracefully descended upon the city, dropping into the street where the chaos had started from. The golden magic began to engulf the mighty dragon, twisting over his form and drawing him inward, drawing the limbs and mass into a more singular figure, until eventually the Emperor stood there as he was- an aging, worn out man. His right eye was bleeding, and bruises battered his form, but he was in relatively good health aside. "Today I had hoped to avoid such chaos. . .A shame. Things shall never be proper for me here." The old man moved to looking over his companions, aware, but uncaring of the beacon at the moment. His own men took precedent over any others.
The destruction that Dimas used to enter the area drew up the gaze of Cyrus Inferi, his head having been bowed in respect before the fallen woman. The red orbs that stuck out as the only color on the black form of the Giant fell heavily upon the Baron, digging into him. Despair was wrapped up in his namesake- the loss of a companion was painful, and to the right hand man of Death, it was losing family. Loved ones. It struck hard, and his own acts that led to such an end weighed greatly, a weight settled on his shoulders for the loss of life before him. His forced silence made him listen more than most, and listening had led to him being the greatest confident in all of his allies' lives- a person who could never share your secrets, and would always lend an ear. He knew who Snuka was better than any one else- just like he knew who Atropha, Morrigana and Kalaraja were better than all else. He knew their greatest fears and aspirations, he knew their loves, their failures, victories, their quirks, their personalities. He knew it all. And a set had just been removed from him. All of what he knew of one person, how intimately and well he did, gone in an instant. Due in no small part to him. With emotion still filling his figure, the man rose to his full imposing height, his might barrel chest wide as he glared at Solon. No move was made. No strike or lunge. A silent threat not to encroach too close upon the sacred dead, lest he regret it.
Archibald - 06/16/2017
Dimas looked off at the dark mass that was Depression of the Grim Companions, the mute man acting openly threatening to Solon with his body language alone - not that he could use much else. Dimas replied in kind, his arctic eyes focusing hard and replying with the same message. ”I’m just waiting to see if people I know arrive.” Specifically, if Sarah would see the beacon and arrive. . ’I’m. . Acting silly now. Why would she see it and come running? She might be hiding somewhere, or knocked out, or gone.’ The distraction from the priority task was going to drive Chernobog crazy again. The last thing Dimas wanted was another vision of his past induced by the demon, with those dark and deceiving words forcing his feet forward. Solon’s mood couldn’t be any lower at the moment. . ’Just. I’ll look for her. . I’m sure she got out. We’ll see each other later. .’ It didn’t make a whole lot of sense. . Would he? Why would he? Why would she want to? Why should he want to? There was no denying that he did, But Dimas was certain Sarah wasn’t someone he enjoyed the company of that much. The last person who he could genuinely call a friend resonated significantly more with Solon than Sarah ever did.’She was also just a few years younger then me, rather than being the age I was when meeting Chernobog. She also got me more than Kart can.’ So it still brought up the question. Why did he care so much about reuniting with her? The tough exterior that Solon wore, that was a large part of him immediately demanded Dimas rebuke the girl. ’Right. .She’s just another part of the mission.’ He tried to tell himself, pushing past the frightening thought that he’d never see the young woman again.(edited)
’It’s nothing important. . She has information for me, but I have a new source now. I’ll just. . Find the SRRA rat. Track down Chroma. . Kill Sariel and Zaphiel.’ He muttered his plan, his resolve less than sturdy at the moment as his eyes found Cyrus and Denial once more. ’At least I’ll never have to deal with that. One plus to just. . Never seeing her again.’ Her sudden disappearance shook Dimas up . .More than he anticipated, but the warlock always found some ways to move past it, something else to latch onto - be it a particular job, a town, or a target. After she vanished, Dimas had. . Far too much empty time. . And no one left to spend it with. It lead Dimas to his rather intimate relationship with Chernobog, where the Warlock approached the demon more frequently than ever before, learning from it and owing more and more to the dreadful entity. ‘She’s gone anyways. .Like I said. I’ll never be in his position,’ Dimas thought with an ounce of jealousy.
ArchAngelMike9 - 06/16/2017
Cyrus carefully eyed the Robber Baron, standing as strong as he had before, fingers wavering in his fist, moving up and down, stretching out before closing up into a tight ball again. A dark mist continuously flowed off of him, sputtering into the air as the void discharged little bits of its magic, as it tended to do when open upon him. His focus was entirely on safeguarding the fallen form of the woman, allowing none within a safe distance of her until the others, or at least Dante, arrived. Be it minutes or days, he would wait. There was a sacred feeling shared amongst the companions when one of them fell to the very thing they accompanied. Death themselves would always lay them to rest with final words, and would always claim the body to lie with the other companions, be it at the great cemetery or in a location of their own choosing. Inferi's loyalty to the organization, his loyalty to Dante and the Companions kept him rooted, kept him planted- her body had already been desecrated. A dragon carved into her flesh. A strange design and logo, akin to the Dynasty's favorite symbol. But they were never known to brand a fallen victim. It did not fit in their wheelhouse. Meaning the assailant was a new threat, a new group perhaps. Another awful feeling came with that line of thought- Snuka's death would be used to elevate someone above their position. The maiming and killing of a Companion could gain some notoriety. Her life was given up to be bragging rights. Once more the man's form tightened, his fists drawing even more closed as rage began to build up within him.
"Cyrus!" Ember's voice broke the rage. It killed the burning anger that grew in the giant as the Baroness flung herself into the Alleyway, her momentum shifting as she slid to an easy halt. Blood coated her right arm and drenched her face, though no wounds looked particularly severe. The Steel gaze looked at the Giant and down upon the corpse, the harsh gaze giving way to a softer look at the realization of the situation. "I. . .I'm sorry, big guy." Nothing harsh came with the sentiment. Instead only an attempt to be respectful. Inferi and the companions meant a good deal to the Goddess of War. They'd been fine friends and people she could respect for all they'd done over the years. Cyrus and her had a closer relationship than the rest, their time spent together having been something that would keep them always in contact, but as she stepped forward, carefully looking to examine the fallen body, the large dark hand of the Giant shot out, forcing her to step back as he refused to let her move any closer. "Alright, Alright, I'll. . .step back." Her hands rose in careful acceptance, moving back, her gaze sweeping away from the awkward situation and onto the other member of the alleyway she'd neglected to notice. "Dimas? What're you doing here? You look like you've been nothing but fu-. . .in trouble for the last while. Still pretty bad." She danced about her usual verbage, to show her best respect as possible, "Where's the girl and her piss-machine?"
All across Murias, the chaos was dying down. For nearly a quarter of an hour, hell had broken loose upon the city, but the combat was finally rolling downward. The Dragon that had razed the city once was no longer in the sky. The combat that stretched across the main streets had fallen apart, and the heart of the city was winding down after half of those who entered had been struck down. Fires sprouted up in a few portions of the underground community, and the deathtoll was undoubtedly large, the damages and losses exceedingly so as well. The mass amount of evacuations through the teleportation and street exits had gathered a great deal of attention, many eyes- magical or not- turning to Murias already from the events that had taken place. With such coming to an end, the Emperor slowly moved his two living colleagues from the road, incapable of lifting them at the moment and forced to drag the duo to the nearby alley ways as he moved towards the backdoor of a building- there'd be a great deal of waiting to be done, before he and his allies could leave- no doubt there'd be quite the coalition in the community soon that would be out for his head at what had transpired, regardless of what set off the powder keg in the first place.
Archibald - 06/16/2017
”Woke up to void terrors before I could finish healing. Ran into. . . Grunts. . Some. . Other people. Paige and Bray, but they didn’t cause me any trouble.” Dimas’ voice was as plain as ever, looking between Ember and the fallen Companion. He hadn’t expected to see Ember at the scene, but in hindsight, it made sense. She was annoyingly attached to the group, an unofficial member alongside Leviathan, as far as Dimas was concerned. ”You look a little beat up,” He commented, looking at the woman’s shallow injuries. ”I imagine the chaos that started drew you in too, huh? Probably them as well.” He pointed a finger at the fallen Cassie and large Cyrus guarding her, making an attempt to sound empathetic as he directly referenced them. The mention of Sarah and Hebe’s secret weapon caused Dimas’ mood to shift, his body language changing drastically from rather passive to that of mildly annoyed and a dash worried, to those who could read such things. His legs parted and his face fell slightly, with his arms rising over his bare and black bloodied chest. ”Sarah Kart and Jotunn are. . Somewhere. I let them go with the Chosen cultists after we arrived. I didn’t care to look at any of them in the moment. With the mess the city is in, I’m sure they got out quickly, using some passage known only to them and escaping trouble.” He sounded less sure of himself than he’d like, but Dimas wouldn’t outwardly worry. And especially not to Ember. ”So, what happens now? For Dante’s group?”
dirty insane boy - 06/17/2017
Bright light filled the abandoned street. A pair of beaten bodies dropped out of the instantaneous flash of energy, hitting the dusty road with a loud thump. Jose Santoro released a low groan, moving a hand around to grasp at his battered back. He'd taken quite the hit to his spine earlier from one of those damned thugs. Far from the most robust Chosen, Jose was sure he'd be feeling that one for quite awhile. The Brazilian saboteur blinked away the darkness, his sight quickly adjusting to the brightly lighten Murias street. There wasn't any sign of activity here; he'd teleported them as far away as he could before his body gave out. His heart pounded in his ears as Santoro pushed himself into a sitting position, his breathing labored and heavy as his mind raced. They had just barely escaped with their lives from that horrific eldritch abomination. Tademuri hadn't been so lucky...The woman had sacrificed herself to make sure he and Sarah got out safely. The man vividly recalled the Chosen gunner standing fearless before the evolved Void Terror, staring down death itself with the same eerie stoicism she never broke from. Santoro quickly shook the memory from his mind. He didn't have time to dwell on the primal fear pulsating through his every muscle. They were still too close to the rioting for his comfort.
Santoro turned toward the other prone figure, his expression dropping. Sarah Kart was in terrible shape. Every part of the poor girl was shaking uncontrollably. Sarah's arms were wrapped in a death grip around herself. There was blood splattered across her torn clothing, though Jose was glad to note that none of it appeared to be her own; the witch had managed to avoid anything more than superficial damage during the brawl, even if she had bitten off far more than she could chew by engaging those...things. Tears streamed out of her dilated eyes and freely down her cheeks. Her breathing was erratic and shallow. Jose sighed, placing a hand upon the terrified witch's shoulder. "Sarah." He spoke her name softly, though his voice shook slightly; he wasn't quite over his own experience yet himself. Still, they had to get moving or else they'd be putting themselves in unnecessary danger. "Sarah." He repeated. There was no response. Santoro turned her toward him. She offered no resistance, staring past him with her empty gaze. "Come on, girl. Snap out of it." Santoro muttered, mulling over how he might break the trance. The Brazilian Chosen was far from a magician himself, but he knew a couple of tricks. The man brought up a singular finger, placing it against the tip of Kart's nose. A small bolt of electricity left his digit and zapped the girl.
Kart's eyes snapped shut as she whipped her head back and away from Jose. Her hands shot up to slap his hand away and cover her face. "Ow!" Sarah exclaimed in a mixture of confusion and anger. "What was that for?!" She sniffled. Wiping away the water that ran down her face, the witch scowled at her friend, apparently oblivious to his reasons for zapping her. Jose chuckled weakly, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck. "Well, at least you're back." He said quietly. Kart narrowed her gaze and shook her head a little. "Back? I didn't go anywhere- did I? I mean, I blacked out for a little bit there, but come on! You couldn't have used, like, a bottle of water or something?" Santoro slowly rose to his feet, his every bone aching in protest. "You're serious...? I'll- I'll explain later." Jose wasn't sure what all the girl remembered. She wasn't shaken up in the slightest any longer; in fact, she was quite jovial given the circumstances. It was entirely possible she didn't remember anything after that...creature appeared. If that was so, Jose dreaded having to relive it for her. The South American helped Kart to her feet. Together they looked around the abandoned Murias neighborhood. "We're not far from the clinic..." Sarah spoke under her breath. "Let's grab Diana and then find Dimas." Sarah started off toward the old hospital, knowing her way around the Murias well enough. Jose was quick to join in step behind her. "But Maki said-" Sarah shook her head. "I know what she said. But I don't believe her. Dimas isn't my enemy, and if I know him he's probably out in the thick of all this. Looking for us." The Robber Baron had shown on a couple of occasions the lengths he'd go to to secure  his 'assets.' She didn't doubt he was wading through rioters and Void Terrors looking for her and the other Chosen.
The walk over to the clinic was a quick one, taking only five or six minutes at most. "There it is!" Sarah pointed toward the bright red cross that hung over the building's front entrance, moving faster now than their destination was in sight. Santoro moved quicker as well, though he was still hesitant about Kart's plan to go back into the middle of everything; especially with them picking up the toddler first. "Perhaps we should leave Diana here. Would she not be safer waiting at the clinic while we get Dimas?" Jose asked. The witch slowed, turning to look at the man when she addressed him. "This is a Hebe affiliate. I only left her here because I had to. The longer Diana's here, the more risk she's at that they find out about her escape. She'll be safer with us." Kart hadn't really had time to think it over originally. She had been more concerned about the darkness forming over the town square than the consequences of leaving the child behind. The doctor and nurse were both good people, but...they were on the wrong side. Sarah pushed at the front door of the clinic. "Mary? Tvstar? It's me, Sarah! Are you guys okay? I came back for Diana."
ArchAngelMike9 - 06/17/2017
"Fucking animals were looting and rioting all over the damn place. . .two of the fucking scum went after a woman. . " Ember kept her tone low, to uphold the sanctity of the dead before her, but her harsh tongue was back to its usual state as she responded to Dimas. Venom practically leaked from her tongue as she spoke of the chaos that had occurred, the people who had partook in particular drawing her ire, "I'm a lot less beat up than those fucking animals, though. Promise you that. Chaos sort pulled everyone in though. I don't know what bullshit started this, but the outcome. . ." The steel gaze rotated to cast upon the fallen form of Snuka, her brows forming a sharp V as they furrowed together in her heavy emotions of the situation. Stepping from the center of the alleyway, the woman moved against the wall that Dimas had used for an impromptu entrance, pushing her body weight up against it as let a visible, wide frown sprawl across her face. "The Chosen are crafty fucking cultists, sure they have seventeen ways out of this place, and somehow a damn lot more in, from what I know of them. . ." Her shoulders slowly slumped, her gaze turning back to Solon, the ferocity slightly drained, replaced with a slather of sadness. "As for the Companions, they. . .They've got some ancient burial shit they do. . .Dante has to show up, take the body and bury it himself. Stick around long enough, you'll. . .you'll be seeing a probably pissed the fuck off Death. After that? No idea. Not gonna take this shit sitting down though, that much is for damned sure."
The clinic seemed a bit more banged up than it was upon Kart's first arrival. The door had marks of forcible entry, and one of the windows was busted out, a faint smell of smoke lingering around the block as they came onto the street. The scene inside the health facility was vastly different than when she left, however. The chair swung open, creaking as it went, releasing a blast of cool air into the faces of the Chosen. The sitting room was in disarray, the chairs and furniture thrown about, some of it even broken into pieces. Two prone corpses were strewn out upon the rattled furniture, black cloaks covering their forms, but their lifeless faces on display in their twisted death positions: The red fleshed and horned head of a demon, and a human woman with a stitched up mouth. The symbol of the skull and snake hung at their throats, signaling their alignment: The Irkalla. Frost was spattered about the room, clinging to the walls and floor, and heavily upon a third corpse that was laid out in the doorway into the rest of the clinic, partially melted shards of ice in their back indicating more than likely who did the deed. Behind the service window, heavy breathing and a murmuring voice snuck out, a periodic loud thump coming with it.
"Come on. . .Come on. . .You'll be okay. . " The broken voice of the jovial surgeon spattered out as he crouched down in the little sitting area, near the filing cabinets and small office that housed the paperwork of the clinic. Blood dribbled from the corner of his lip, his white coat frothed in the crimson material and a horrid wheeze coming to every breath as he frantically worked. His abdomen appeared almost ripped open, his entrails peeking out of his own stomach, though adrenaline seemed to push him past the point of caring, his eyes wide as he huffed and murmured. Lying on the ground before him was the golden curled nurse, the young woman sprawled out on the ground, eyes staring up at the ceiling without a hint of registry. No breath was in her chest, the only physical reaction coming from the touch of the defibrillator paddles to her chest, her scrubs having been ripped open to allow the wounded surgeon a chance to restart her heart. Her face was covered in a series of bruises and gashes, her nose clearly having been broken. Her neck was cocked and angled strangely, a closer inspection revealing her throat having been crushed inward. Anyone with a hint of medical knowledge could see the young woman was gone- no life was left in her form. But the battered, bearded man continued, frantically recharging his hope to rekindle her life and shocked her chest again, falling into chest compressions as his blood flooded out in his work area, making the whole scene all the more grizzly. Further into the office, everything appeared ransacked. Filing cabinets overturn, with drawers removed, papers scattered about, and another hooded corpse splayed out atop the mess.
Archibald - 06/17/2017
Solon nodded, though he felt only a fraction of any anger or emotions at the described scene. Dimas considered himself a high standing serial killer and murderer. He didn’t steal often, thievery was against his codes, as was sexual misconduct. He had his own standards to live up to and felt a pang of discomfort at the mention of the woman being dragged out, but it was small compared to the flurry of other emotions going around his head. The gaunt man would grunt and occasionally nod, looking at the fallen Companion and the lone Cyrus still guarding over her, his eyes narrowing at the scene. ”Not sure I want to stick around when Death comes by. If he’s not a fan of the Irkalla for their denial of death, something tells me I’m not high on his list either.” Dimas half joked, having experienced a multitude of near-death experiences in the last month alone, some that he should’ve been killed by. ”You’re close to them, aren’t you? Must be hard on you too.” That would be the closest Solon would come to offering any form of apology or giving condolences on what happened, the bare chested man instead folding his hands over his nipples and looking about the mad city with a huff from his lips. Things were arguably alright between Chernobog’s slaves compared to how they were maybe two and a half hours earlier, when Dimas snapped on the woman for merely existing.
”I might need some help,” He admitted, shifting to look back at the white haired woman, ”Finding the SRRA rat and with what I’ve all around got on my plate. Not asking you to stick your nose in my business, but directions to this Leon’s next probable location. . Maybe fine that little shit for me,” It didn’t need to be said who Dimas referred to. It was Delecroix. The only person among Chernobog’s ranks that Dimas wanted to throttle. The intelligent and twisted individual always found the right ways to rub the Warlock wrongly, but due to his position as one of the demon’s more favored “allies” and the value his support carried. . Murdering Lemmy was always postponed.
ArchAngelMike9 - 06/17/2017
"I'm not exactly feeling good right now, no." Ember's response to the broaching of her personal relationship with the companions was about as disassociated as she could get. The woman actively tried to avoid feelings like grief, regret and despair when she could- Cassie Snuka hadn't been a close friend, but she'd known the younger woman for the seven years she'd been 'Denial'. It was more the stance of the Void-draped man that stood above the corpse that got to her. The appearance of Cyrus so protective, the red eyes of the man rimmed with a storm of emotions that were no doubt already beginning to eat at him from the inside. 'You'll come out of this fine, Big Guy. Don't blame yourself.'  Her lips rolling about her teeth, being pressed on gently by her closing jaw, the Goddess of War shook off the encroaching feelings, forcing herself to take her gaze from the scene and back to the Dark Sorcerer. "Unless you did that, I don't think Dante's gonna give a damn about you at the minute. So you're off the hook, but. . .I don't actually want to be around for it either." As she spoke, her jaw pushed out, her face stretching as she awkwardly added in her discomfort at the circumstance. She'd seen the burial once before, and it had not felt like a place for outsiders. It was sacred to the Companions, a long-standing tradition. She didn't feel particularly enamored to be a fly on the wall again.
"Leon's a slippery little shit. I'd have to spend a few days asking all the fucks around here where he's at, and. . .well I'd have to track the fucks around here down, since it looks like this place just got a little too shitty, even for them." The distant sound of the dying riots and looting accented the point nicely as she shook her head, a distaste forming in her mouth at his next sentiment. "I've got no Idea where stick-dick is. I never know. Cherno just sorta throws him in my general direction when I'm supposed to fucking deal with him. Never been a big enough fan of the asshole to sit down and drink at his house or anything. So, asking the wrong gal, Solon." Many didn't care for Lemmy amongst Chernobog's finest. He was a somewhat arrogant man who craved control- mostly because his magic made him good for that and little else. Had he not been so often useful to work with, there'd be little reason to ever associate with the man. Though unfortunately it seemed like his services may be required for the little gig Dimas was a part of. 'I'll help him for awhile. . .Keep out of the shit storm around here until it's cleared up a bit, not in the mood for all. . .this. Wouldn't be bad for him to owe me one, either.' Tapping on the wall behind her gently with a knuckle, Marks turned to look at the 'path' Dimas had made to get to the beacon, "Not sure if you need a little breather or something, but. . .I'm fine to start whenever."
dirty insane boy - 06/19/2017
Sarah stepped inside the threshold, her gaze halting atop the first frozen corpse that blocked her path. A short, shocked gasp came from her parted lips. She'd seen the damage outside, but...this was the last thing Kart had expected to see. The cultists must have attacked the clinic while Kart was away. "Diana?" The witch called more quietly. It was obvious who killed them, based on the frost scattered across the walls and the frozen blades jabbed into the bodies of the fallen. Sarah pushed the dead man out of her way. Moving past the first corpse, the young woman's ears were met by the sound of a soft voice and some kind of rhythmic thumping noise. She put her guard up, raising up her hands as she moved faster through the ransacked lobby. It was possible there were more of the cultists in the back. She had only seen the bodies of attackers so far, so that was a good sign. Judging by the markings she'd seen at a glance, Kart knew they all worked for the Scourge- the same men that attacked those Chinese gangsters back near the town center. 'Why are they doing this...? The Murias haven't ever been a very peaceful place, but it's a neutrally controlled zone, right? What does the Irkalla have to gain from doing this?' The Chosen Assassin must've been missing something, but she couldn't grasp why one of the major leaders of the scourge would bring so many followers and four Void Terrors to rampage through the Murias. Now probably wasn't the most opportune time to think about it.
Kart maneuvered through to the other side of the lobby. Light surrounded her good hand as she stepped up to the service window. Taking a deep breath in, she looked inside, ready to blast whatever cultist she found hiding within. To her horror, Sarah instead came face to face with tragedy. A broken and bloodied Tvstar was hunched over the unmoving form of his young assistant. He was pressing the cold pads of the defibrillators against her unmoving chest, clearly in a state of shock. It only took a cursory glance from Kart to see that Mary was dead; likely for some time now. Her throat dropped into her stomach, panic rising up to take it's place. The witch had to force herself to move. She darted around to the door leading into the office, bursting inside. "Doctor." Sarah quietly spoke, looking between him and his fallen friend. "Tvstar." She said louder, moving a step closer. "She's...she's gone." Now that she was closer, Sarah could see the extent of the older man's wounds. If he didn't get help, he'd be joining Mary soon. "Jose, go look for Diana." Kart softly ordered. Santoro nodded, turning back to move further into the clinic. He drew a long dagger from his belt, making his way deeper into the facility. "Diana?" He called, unsure if she'd answer him or even recognize his voice. Meanwhile, Sarah crouched down beside Tvstar and placed a tentative hand on his shoulder. "I'm so...so sorry."
ArchAngelMike9 - 06/19/2017
"I was too slow. . ." The once jolly-surgeon murmured, slumping back at the barest touch from the young woman, falling against the wall and shutting his eyes tightly. The paddles fell from his hands, clattering against the cool tiled floor, the deep wound and the entrails within on display in an even more grotesque fashion, his clothes thoroughly stained in his own blood, and his flesh a deathly white. ". . .I. . .she was just eighteen. Just for two months now. . .She had her whole life. . .I . ." His mouth twitched, jaw shaking as he wanted to express more of his feelings, to divulge more of his emotions, but he simply fell from speaking, his eyes falling to the unmoving form of his assistant, his head thumping against the wall behind him as he breathed heavily, each shallow intake of air forcing his body to move upward, generating a small sloshing noise from his stomach region. His eyes were still wide, still large in the moment, adrenaline still flowing through his injured form, shock keeping him from feeling the horrific injuries he had in the moment. The scene around him showed whatever happened, had been quick. The filing cabinets overturned, it seemed like just large chunks of the paperwork were crudely grabbed and ripped from the stacks. The computer had been smashed in, and gripped tightly in the hands of one of the deceased cultists was another file of some sort, indicating the cult of freaks and abominations had been after paperwork, of all possible things.
An occasional streak of frost upon the walls or floor was the proper indication that the tot had no doubt been through this area. The cool air and settled chaos that had happened in the building produced a crazed scene of some form of fight that had happened, as well as the overarching activity that drew it. Doors to operating rooms had been kicked open, cabinets containing the artificial limbs of Hebe's design were flung open and pilfered, the occasional black robed form lying face down in the hallway, arms outstretched as they fell with the paperwork and looted limbs, scattering them all about. No voice or call came as a reply to the man, though a gentle, rhythmic noise came from the back of the building. The corridor moved to the very back of the structure before splitting off either right or left. Left appeared to move into a section of stairs that led to the second story of the clinic, while right led to a back exit. The door was open, letting in the fake daylight of Murias to reveal the form of an Irkalla cultist fallen in the threshold, his corpse the thing keeping the door wide. Upon his back, the small form of Diana sat, her hand rising and dropping as she mauled the dead man's back with an icicle, a set of holes numbering easily in the dozens showing she'd been at this for a period of time now. Her body was partially covered in a fine white frost, though large chunks of it had fallen away, slipping onto the ground and beginning to melt. Her dress spattered in the blood of the dead, a few loose streaks striking her face as well. Her focus was purely upon the dead being and her repeated ensuring of his demise, eyes tightened and glaring at the fallen body with all her might.
dirty insane boy - 06/19/2017
Sarah's heart broke. She could see the pain the man was in, and it wasn't due to his wounds. Kart thought she should say something. Anything, to make it a little easier. Something comforting to help him work through the loss of his young helper. Mary hadn't been more than a year younger than Sarah herself; it was disconcerting to make such a connection with a dead woman to say the least. Sarah found no words. She stammered dumbly, her eyes falling down to her lap as she thought over the gravity of the situation. Her death weighed on Kart. If the witch hadn't decided to head toward the darkness, she would've more than likely been present when the attack occurred. Sarah could've helped fight them off. She could've healed Mary when she was first injured. If nothing else, Kart could have tried to do something. Yet, the foolhardy girl had run head first into danger without a thought about their safety. She'd thought she could stop the rioting, kill the Void Terrors and run off the cultists that started it all on her own.
Who was she kidding? Sarah had done nothing but go from failure to failure since this all started. First she failed to get the information from the Marion facility. Then she failed to stay away from Chernobog, bringing his thrall right into her home without even trying to resist. And after letting Dimas attack her master, Sarah had the audacity to fail at basic character deduction and tried to befriend a sociopathic mass murderer. Because she's dumb and naive and doesn't understand how the world works. Then she failed to protect her home from Hebe, who only knew where the church was because Sarah had failed to keep Benny from being captured. Then she failed to use her basic survival instincts and threw herself into mortal danger to protect an enemy combatant, only to lose her arm in the process. Kart failed to realize how stupid going after Benny was, dragging her friends and allies into it only to lose both Hirose and Asano, as well as failing to save Benny again and letting him nearly kill her. Even after they'd escaped and were safe, Sarah screwed up one more time by trying to pull out Diana's tracking chip without even thinking about the consequences and ending up breaking the poor girl's mind, possibly for good. And by failing to tell Dimas, she created a rift between herself and probably the only person on the planet strong enough and willing enough to help her fight Hebe to get Benjamin back, not to mention that Dimas was bonkers and only using Sarah for his own ends this whole time. Failing to protect Mary was just one more tally on Sarah's board of screw ups.
It was impossible for Sarah to even look Tvstar in the eye, knowing that she was responsible for...all of this. She didn't have the audacity to even own up to the man. Instead, Kart took another deep breath and forced her tears from flowing again. That tended to be her response to her constant messing up; never trying to fix it, or prevent future failure or anything like that...No, Kart responded by crying like a dumb little baby. 'Okay. Just. P-pull yourself together, Sarah. Tvstar needs you to heal him.' Kart inched closer to the man, placing another hand on his shoulder. She focused all of her remaining mystical energy, what precious little there was left, and poured it into the wounded man. Sarah guided the pure magical force through his aging body, focusing on the worse of his injuries; she only had the strength left to deal with the life threatening stuff. Kart hunched over, leaning her weight against the wall for support as she felt her muscles loosen. She zapped herself of her strength, moving it into the broken doctor. If there were no complications, his flesh would regrow and stitch itself back together, his bones would reset themselves and his muscles would slink into place once more. He wouldn't be in perfect condition, but he'd be in much better shape than he was when Sarah found him. The moment the process finished, Kart would collapse fully against the wall, panting heavily. "T-there." She was able to sputter out. "I...That's the best...I can do."
Machinations were at work that were beyond her understanding. The cultists' attack hadn't been just random happenstance, or even a random act of violence in the name of their organization. Judging by the papers so dutifully clutched to the chest of the fallen man, they were here for information. Sarah wasn't in any condition to get up and investigate any further. Thusly, she spoke up to Tvstar. "D-do you know why they came after you?" Kart asked quietly between breaths. Maybe the doctor could shed some light on the matter. Hopefully, talking about it would distract him from the rapidly deteriorating corpse seated mere inches away from them. It was difficult to ignore the stench wafting up from poor Mary. Death never smelled particularly pleasant, and there were multiple bodies lying near them. "I think they work for Irkalla, judging...judging by their outfits."
Jose Santoro moved through the halls of the deceptively large clinic. He kept his guard up as he walked, his blade held up defensively in front of him as he scoured the rooms for the young toddler. He passed by multiple corpses, all adorned in the same odd clothing- their choice of dress was similar to the Chosen from North America. Jose could never really understand the appeal of the archaic uniforms. They weren't particularly good looking and all the robes did was make one stand out in a crowd. Jose shrugged his shoulders, slinking through the ajar surgery room. There were what looked like prosthetic arms scattered everywhere. Apparently the cultists had been trying to pilfer the closets of the robo-arms when the miniature frost mage got to them. Santoro was surprised by the number of bodies the very young girl had managed to pile up. Even for a child soldier, Diana was even more effective than Jose would have imagined her to be. Having the mind and the body of a four year old didn't keep her from kicking loads of ass. The teleporting Chosen stopped in his tracks, a quiet sound finding it's way to his attuned ears. It was vaguely like an ice pick being repeatedly stabbed into the back of a week old pig carcass- 'I didn't think I would hear that sound again...' Jose thought to himself. He tightened his grip on his blade, moving further into the facility.
The sound grew louder. The Brazilian came upon two doorways. One led upstairs, while the other held the source of the mysterious, rhythmic noise. There was the body of a dead cultist jammed in the threshold leading outside. The body was covered in large holes, partially frozen over. Seated atop him was the small toddler Jose had come looking for. Her dress was covered in the blood of her victim. Diana was intently turning her attacker into swiss cheese using nothing but a particularly sharp shard of ice. It was a...disturbing sight. Santoro shook away his disgust, taking a step out of the hall and toward her. Though he faltered for a moment, briefly recalling mention of a 'weapon mode' back before the attack on the Hebe hospital. "Diana?" Jose called out the name of the girl, holding the knife ever tighter. He readied himself to teleport at the first sign of trouble. He wasn't about to stick around if the midget magician was going to attack him in a blind fury. "I'm Jose, remember me? I'm here with Sarah.." He tried to explain, prodding to see if the girl was in control of herself or not.
ArchAngelMike9 - 06/19/2017
Vulcana said nothing as the Chosen woman used her magic upon him, his eyes fervently downcast as he felt his form twist and heal, his flesh stitching itself together and entrails re-tangling themselves into the correct formation. It was proper healing magic, a grand deal better than the minor magic he himself could do for such circumstances- he was a Surgeon of Scalpel and Stethoscope, not magic and charms. Had it been another circumstance, any, he'd of surely been more awed by the immense healing ability the woman demonstrated, vastly outclassing him in his field. But the motionless corpse of his assistant only inches away from his feet kept him from having any such feelings at the moment. It weighed like a thousand tonnes upon him, a pressure that he couldn't quite escape. Yet as the final bits of magic poured into his system, tweaking the last of the major wounds into the healing territory, the man looked to Sarah and gave her the gentlest of nods, "Thank you. . ." He neglected to ask the question he wanted to, knowing the answer well. She could do nothing for Marilyn. She was too far gone for anyone to reclaim. "Your best is more than enough." Each word was carried with no energy, it simply fell flat out of his mouth. In an instant, his business and livelihood had been destabilized and practically toppled, his life's work destroyed and Jacobite taken from him. The pain he felt bypassed the body and flesh and delivered directly to the heart and soul, biting at his most basic essence in a frenzy. It felt, in the moment, inescapable.
"Information. . .Our papers. . .our work. . .our records. The supplies. The fact that we're a Hebe affiliate. . .There's a lot of reasons why they might of taken a swing at us." The man's eyes closed once more as he fell deeper into the mess, considering it all. "They barely talked, but I heard them say the name Hebe between themselves. . .That's likely the. . .bulk of it. What the Irkalla would want with her or. . .or us or. . ." His gaze flicked open once more, dropping to the deceased nurse, a lifeless gaze hammering her prone form as he swallowed, gulping back what was on his tongue before he continued, "I don't know, but. . .they didn't ask. They just rampaged through. . .I'd of given them everything to keep this from happening. . .everything."
At the sound of her name, the little girl slowly twisted her head, looking up to Santoro with a quizzical gaze, her intense blue eyes scanning the man up and down in careful consideration. Her face was half covered in her supernatural frost, the cold material clinging to her visage, slowly flaking off with every gentle movement. After a long moment of silence, of mental consideration of the current, the tot pulled her hand off the bloodied icicle, fully scooting around on the corpse to look up to the man before she lifted the crimson-covered palm that had clutched her improvised weapon, waving it him. "Hi Jose. I'm getting rid of the bad guys. They're not gonna be bad anymore, cause I got'em." She opened her mouth wide, allowing a broad toothed smile to form as pride overcame her. In the moment, her actions seemed just and right, the weight of what she had done not coming anywhere close to hitting her as she stared up at the teleporter, blissfully unaware or uncaring of the lives she took, only happy that she'd dealt with the bad people.
'Oh. Good. This guy! He's an alright guy. Even better now that he stopped us from stabbing. This. Body. Ohhh myy goodddd. Thirty seven times. Thirty seven times! That's excessive! Even for me! And body, you're acting like you're a kid! So that's super excessive! That's thirty seven times more than I'd of expected! Like. . . I meannn, it was good work. But also, just. . .Ahhh. This sucks. This sucks a lot. I need to get out of here.' Diana's mature mind had done nothing but narrate and internally yell at the body outside of her control during the events as they unfolded. She could only watched, constantly on edge that something would happen, as her body acted in auto-pilot, outside of her control and capable of being killed, losing itself and losing herself, without any actual input from her. The fact things turned out as well as they did were a blessing, but the experience of being locked inside was immensely tiring.
dirty insane boy - 06/19/2017
Sarah thought about what Tvstar had said. So the attack had more than likely been politically motivated, then. She didn't know much about the conflicts between the various Robber Baron designated organizations. It was all above her paygrade. But she did know it happened for a couple of different reasons. Factions would fight over territory, resources, control or clout; whatever thing another group had that they wanted. Their secret wars were unknown to the vast majority of the world's population, even if thousands of lives were lost in the ensuing battles. Even with the magnitude of the attack on the Murias, very few people would ever hear about the vast loss of life that took place there. It would be covered up, and things would return to normal in a week or three. It was standard operating procedure in the magical community. No amount of tragedy ever made them stop. Life moved on, no matter what. It was almost poetic in a way. Almost. Sarah looked to Vulcana, frowning deeply. She could practically feel the wrenching of his heart from where she was sitting. Kart tried to lift her arm to his shoulder again, failing to do more than slightly budge herself. The absolute exhaustion she had brought on herself was terribly inconvenient. She was a sitting duck if more of those freaks showed up. She'd need at least a few hours rest to even walk unassisted again. A full day's sleep would be necessary before she could go back to spell slinging.
"I...I know...you feel responsible..." Sarah abruptly started, struggling to speak in her current condition. "But don't. She- she wouldn't want you to think like...that. We can't...um...control...the things that happen to us." Kart awkwardly explained, unsure if there was any wisdom in her ramblings. She simply spoke from the heart. "What you do here...it's good. Running this clinic. The Murias- it needs someone like...you. I think- I think Mary was proud...to work here. I didn't know her...very well. But I could tell w-when I walked through the door that she loved...this place." Kart's shaky fingers ran across the cold tiles of the floor. Speaking for any length of time was an immense effort. She took a moment to gather herself. Her head felt light; it was possible she'd lose consciousness soon. "I'm sorry...I-I shouldn't...I shouldn't have left...If I'd just...just been here..."
Jose let out a sigh of relief. Diana was herself, mostly; she was still acting like a toddler, but at least she wasn't a raving monster of mass destruction. Santoro returned his dagger to the sheathe on his belt. He closed the distance between himself and the death machine. "Um. Nice work." The Chosen said, glancing at the dead. She had done a decent job cleaning up this many of Irkalla's forces. Much better than he could have done in her place. The death of the nurse was a tragedy, but Diana's presence had more than likely prevented further loss of life. "A little excessive, maybe, but you did good. Let's go see Sarah." Jose reached a hand toward the young girl. Whether or not he took his hand, Santoro started back toward the office he'd left the younger Chosen in. He weaved his way back through the ransacked clinic, stepping around the corner to find Sarah against the wall, speaking softly to the doctor. "S-" He didn't even get a second syllable out before she looked over toward him. "Back." Santoro froze, pulling Diana away. Sarah looked back at the dead blond, and the Brazilian quickly understood. Kart looked over to Tvstar. "I-I'm sorry, but do you...do you have any adrenaline shots? I, um. I can't...move..."
Archibald - 06/19/2017
From the side street in Murias where the body of Denial lay clutched in the hands of Depression Incarnate to wandering the city in a desperate search for a teleportation pad before the SRRA swept the underground city, Dimas and Ember traveled far. To the outskirts of the city, where the damage was minimal compared to where the Robber Barons all collected and battled it out. Dimas had suggested going to Chernobog, thinking little of using the demonic benefactor's aid, but The Goddess Of War had quickly stomped that idea out, stating that the day was already poor without the addition of the “Dickless Skeleton” as she kindly referred to the three thousand + year old entity. It was there that the duo met up with Sarah, Diana, and Jose on accident. The group was heading towards one of the hidden Chosen teleportation pads that likely survived the biblical brawl, and despite the high tensions from earlier, Dimas melded back into the group of cultists without a second thought, a slightly better demeanor adopted then when it was simply Ember and himself. The journey was filled with hidden perils, the Irkalla grunts that were abandoned, local gangsters that Dimas kindly referred to as the “useful idiots” still lusting for petty pleasures, and the organized and rhythmic sound of S.R.R.A. boots on the ground made every turn of the corner a dangerous one. Well past an hour and with more fighting than anyone sans possibly Ember would’ve liked, the group of oddballs reached a small building hidden in an obscure alleyway, far from any meaningful part of Murias. With a spell to register that it wasn’t any unauthorized use, Sarah led the group inwards and out of Murias, heading for a safe house on the surface. Ember insisted on staying at her own place, with murmurs of contacting the Grim Companions in the coming days.
A quant and unsuspecting dwelling, it consumed the better part of a floor on the 14th floor of a hotel. It could fit upwards to fifteen, Sarah had mentioned in her attempts to keep the silence back, but Solon wasn’t in any mood for discussions. He picked himself a room with remarkable haste and set himself on the bed, resting on his knees before shutting his eyes. He’d been unable to fully restore his physical state and he was missing on sleep over the past week and a half - the imprisonment in the Chosen’s dungeon being surprisingly hostile to Dimas getting much meaningful rest. For a day and a half, the world outside Dimas’ temporary room lost value. Solon didn’t stir, staying in his meditative state until his wounds were undone. Then, he collapsed until the end of the second day after the catastrophe that was Murias. On the third day, Solon left the room but remained quiet and aloof, leaving for large quantities of time to meet up with Chernobog’s other associate, Ember Marks. The two of them spent an additional day tracking down the SRRA rat, hoping to keep up on his trail and the (now cold) trail left by Chroma. Finally, on the fifth day after the battle that took place below the streets of New York, Dimas found himself. . Waiting. A go-between for Leon had informed Dimas that his request was pending, the Warlock’s own reputation and the rather active SRRA presence in New York making the man skiddish, to Dimas’ eyes. So, as he waited for any word from Ember, Solon returned to the safe house. The Warlock was moving through the kitchen, eyeing anything that could fend off the growing pit in his stomach, first choosing an apple before moving into the fridge and spying frozen patties. Ultimately, Dimas turned the electric stove on, found a pan and began to cook three burgers, a meal for now and later, seeing as Solon might not return to the temporary house if news came quickly and it was promising.
dirty insane boy - 06/19/2017
Sarah was quick to leave the clinic. She felt some obligation to help Tvstar in returning to a semi-normal life, but Santoro reminded her of the urgency of their situation. Kart reluctantly left the man behind to pick up the pieces. She, Jose and Diana were making their way toward a Chosen transportation hub (much to Sarah's chargin, Jose insisted Dimas could take care of himself) when they came across the Robber Baron and his associate, the Goddess of War. Kart was quick to forget Maki's warnings, attempting to speak to the man that had saved her life on numerous occasions. Solon didn't bite, leaving them in an awkward silence for the rest of their journey to the Chosen safe house back in New York. Kart got them past the automatic defenses, the various locks easy enough to open when one knew the right processes, leading the group inside. There they met up with, to Sarah's gleeful surprise, Suzu Hirose and Kento Asano. Sarah hugged them both, though her more formal comrades were a little off put by her tearful greeting. Once that was out of the way, she set herself up in a two twin bed bedroom for herself and Diana. Santoro took up the room opposite them, which was positioned near the apartment shared by Hirose and Asano. They had the floor all to themselves; it was rare for the Chosen to ever stay in a safe house for more than a day, and it was unlikely anyone would disturb them given the current status of the Church of the Chosen. The splintered Chosen shared what they had learned while they were apart. Sariel's plan was in full swing; she'd gathered hundreds of Chosen at the fallback base in Virginia, including many of the Elite. Zaphkiel was, of course, still missing, though there were rumors that Azrael had actually survived the attack. Whether or not they were true was unknown, but Sarah was hopeful.
Suzu and Kento did not take news of Tademuri's death lightly. She was not only an ally, but a close friend to both. They felt responsible for her condition, and learning that she had died because they weren't there to protect her hurt both Chosen deeply. They held a small ceremony for her, giving her soul- or what remained of it- over to the Light Father, asking him to give her safe passage into his arms. They grieved for her, but their mourning did not last long. There was work to be done; Maki wouldn't have them crying over her death, such actions were inefficient and a waste of effort. There was much deliberation about what their next move should be. They knew they couldn't go back to Sariel. Sarah's fight with the Irkalla, combined with their unsanctioned assault on the Hebe Foundation, made them pariahs in the Church's eyes. Sariel was not a woman who allowed the rules to be bent, unless it was in a way she approved of. She was more than happy to use the full extent of Church tradition to make sure everyone followed her will and her will alone. Azrael had been the only one keeping the ambitious woman from going on the power trip that was now in full swing. They briefly went over what Dimas was planning. Sarah suggested that perhaps it would be a good idea to work with Solon to find the Chroma; Zaphkiel was last seen following in their wake, after all. If they found the Gatewalker, they could tell him about Sariel's coup d'etat and hopefully he'd bring some order back to their organization. His leadership wasn't the strongest, but everyone present preferred him over the Mad Sorceress.
With the decision made, someone needed to speak with Dimas. He'd been quite distant over the past few days. They chose to wait until everyone was well rested to break the plan to him. Sarah was given that duty, since she was the only one with any kind of positive relationship with the volatile Robber Baron. After a few hours of meditation, Kart waiting for the man to return from his usual work, she heard rumblings in the kitchen. Sarah's eyes darted to her door. She quickly jumped to her feet, making her way out of the bedroom she shared with the frost mage. Sarah had spent yesterday restocking her gear, particularly the ammunition she'd spent from her prosthetic arm, as well as grabbing a couple changes of clothes. She discarded the sundered Chosen Assassin uniform for a nice pair of jeans and a dark sweatshirt. Unassuming street clothes were a mite easier to run around public in than what looked like a bad ninja cosplay. Sarah quietly made her way toward the kitchen, peaking in through the open threshold to find Dimas fiddling with the stove. "Hey." She greeted, stepping inside. "How've you beeen? What cha eating?" She started with some small talk to gauge his mood, offering the tall man a bright smile.
Archibald - 06/19/2017
Was he purposefully avoiding contact with Sarah? Yes. Did he have a good reason for doing so? No, not truly, but they last spoke on poor terms and Solon wasn’t good at those type of discussions, where he laid down that he was wrong, that she was wrong too. And they’d move past it. It was uncomfortable, not to mention Dimas had too much to focus on in the past week to dedicate much time towards the young woman or what transpired with her. She somehow had a new arm, which he learned through discussions with the others that it was fully robotic, mechanical, whatever technical term there was for it. So, her sudden appearance, cheery attitude and bright smile almost made Dimas sigh in defeat. ”Burgers,” Solon spoke to her. Much like the teen, the older man was wearing traditionally neutral clothing, old jeans and a dark green shirt with a design he didn’t recognize. The older man turned back to the electric stove, turning it on high as he moved the three burger patties before fully turning back to Kart. His icy eyes focused on the young woman for a few moments before his lips tinged, moving as sound began to pour out. ”Fine,” He kept it relatively short. . ”Been busy. It’ll be any day now that I hear back from this Leon on whether or not he’ll see me. The sooner I meet him the quicker I’ll be able to track down Chroma.” It was still his prime objective. Chernobog had been forgiving, compared to how other demonic overlords might be, but the demon wouldn’t be patient for ever.
Sooner or later Dimas feared the demon would forgo the unpleasant visions and strike at Dimas’ heart. He almost winced outwardly when the memories of his young insubordination came back to him. The demon put an awful curse on his heart, sickness swelled within it and Chernobog abused and deformed it mercilessly, allowing the diseases to rattling the organ until Dimas give in to Chernobog’s demands. He learned rather quickly that it was best to go along with whatever the ivory colored entity wanted. ’If he’s particularly upset, he might try a possession.’ Another. . Unfortunate reality of his situation, but Chernobog’s own love of remaining secure would overcome his desire for progress. Possessing Dimas would put Chernobog’s own spirit at risk, if anything were to happen to the Warlock. Returning to the girl at hand, Solon leaned against the counter, looking over at the sizzling meat. ”And you? I trust everything between you and your allies is being settled.”