Fantasy Hunter's Moon: Ascendancy [IC] [CLOSED]

[Breadman]

Royland's rage blinded him and as a result he missed. Such a mistake wouldn't bother him in the heat of battle and yet...

You whiffed that.

"I didn't."

Your attack failed like all your efforts.

"Silence!" This was starting to annoy him.

Like your efforts to save them.

"That was another life." He stopped in place for a moment. Not this. Not now.

One you failed to save. You failed her. You failed him. You failed to act and they paid the price for your failure.

"Speak no more!" Desperation crept in his voice.

And as their killer walked the dungeons you failed to do anything about him. He now leads an army in the Abyss. Growing in strength and when he comes to reap the souls of the innocent, you will be to blame. You who used your piety and faith as excuses not to act. You who let the necromancer and blood priests corrupt your precious church. The Goddess wont even look at you. You're her greatest living shame.

"SHUT UP!" The wraith wailed at whatever voice was there.

Go ahead. Strike at me instead. Let your lord deal with the others. You're just going to find another excuse why your failure wasn't your fault.

"THIS ENDS NOW! NO MORE!" The knight swung with one arm against the air. He could have sworn the source of whatever was taunting him was just there. The moment was what he needed to remember where he was. This was a trick. It had to be. But how did the Icon do that? It must have been a trick from the other one.

He looked to Vergas again. The mace head on the end of the chain replaced with a scythe. Royland struck again.

 

[K0mori]

With his shot missing the mark, Sebastian's rage was internalized. He was a soldier, like it or not, so how did he fail to hit such a wide-open target? He furiously pumped the shotgun again, feeling a familiar weight crashing down upon his shoulders. All his life, he was never good enough. His father had drunkenly slurred his disappointment at his boy's helplessness, his naivety, and his weakness- the very traits found in every small child, traits for which Sebastian should never have felt guilty. The man lobbed blame for every misfortune in his life against the boy, including the absence of his mother. At the heart of his decision to join the army was an aching desire to prove that he was enough, that he could be responsible for his own fate, that he could be the anchor on which a family could hold fast.

But for all his rage, he couldn't change fate. He could barely summon the courage not to run from it when it came by horseback in Escaria. The war itself was a game played by higher powers who merely treated him as a pawn, and his departure for Eternis had merely changed his piece from black to white. He lacked the strength to be taken seriously, hiding behind vampires and were-creatures who thought almost nothing of him.

He couldn't kill Vegras, nor Cassandra. What was he even doing here? Where would this lead? He felt detached from himself as he lined up his next shot and squeezed the trigger again.

 

[joshuadim]

It was his rage, amplified by the artifact, that powered a decent strike into the Icon's shoulder. Another well-scored hit to chip away at the demon's defenses which, in turn, led Azathor to twirl around and prepare for another attack. In keeping with his momentum and pace, he had just the strike in mind as he imagined himself sliding towards the Icon's legs and slashing at his hamstrings. But then the air shifted as Gyasis' artifact shifted the atmosphere with what he now felt. It creeped up into his mind and his soul from depths that he had shut off for some time now, leaving it an unexpected but also unwelcome surprise that made Azathor's widen as his mind drifted towards lifetimes ago.

His arms grew heavier as the memories took hold, and he felt himself grow weak at the knees as his mind's eye changed the setting entirely in that moment.

---

Many Years Ago...
​

The courtyard of Sazak's palace was in pristine shape, thanks to the untiring efforts of the slaves that had been employed in his service. Though they also often had to clean up after the messes that his children would leave behind, as was the case with the trio's return from playing outside. None of them particularly understood the consequences of their actions that had been placed upon the force labourers, as their childish innocence focused more on their imaginative exploits. And still they imagined themselves as playing Hellknights against a colossal dragon, the latter of which Azathor had drawn the short straw on playing as.

​

The scene was set amidst a field ablaze, as the two brave Hellknights - Sir Astraal and Lady Belias - combatted a powerful fire drake. It had already scorched the forest around them as it sought to set them ablaze now out of animalistic fury.

"RAAAGH!" Azathor roared with a grin plastered on his face.

"Its scales are thick!" Belias shouted as she waved a stick about, "I don't think we've even hurt it at all!"

"Distract it, I'll deal with it!" Astraal then shouted as he dashed around, brandishing his own stick that substituted for a sword.

"Back away, flying lizard!" Belias then shouted, waving her "sword" in front of her as to distract Azathor the Red Drake. It worked, as Azathor lumbered towards her with outstreched arms and trying to recreate what he thought the winged beasts sounded. But from behind came his brother as he leaped onto him and tackled him to the ground.

"Now! His belly is exposed!"

Belias gleefully let out a shout as she too pounced onto Azathor, leading the trio to jumble into a mess of limbs and laughs. The beast had been slain, and with it the palace saved. Or so they thought as they were immediately snapped back to reality with words from their mother echoing in the distance to beckon them for lunch. "Well, I wonder what was made today from the kitchen." Astraal commented while Azathor let out a groan.

"Ow... could you not have been so rough?" Azathor asked with a sparse amount of annoyance.

"Oh come on, we didn't tackle you that hard." Belias said in a teasing manner, before helping her brother up from the floor. "What should we do tomorrow?"

Astraal shrugged as he started walking towards the interior itself. "Whatever you both want."

Azathor soon joined by his side and stretched his back, "So long as I don't play the big monster again..."

"Oh come on now, there's nothing wrong with that." his brother said with a grin, "What good is a play without all the roles?"'

"And together," Belias said as she walked between them and draped her arms around their shoulders, "We shall go on many adventures!"

-----​

But it was not to last in the years following, as their familial love grew apart due to the machinations of their father. Astraal became the subject of his praise, while the others became the target of his ire, disdain, and cruelty. The eldest son became favored above all others, as he was driven away from his kin for fear of disobeying his father's orders. Belias and Azathor were thus left to the arbitrary whims of the Icon, which more often than not led to their suffering. And it was on this particular occasion that Sazak took out his ire on Azathor, as he relentlessly beat him in front of many others at the palace.

A crack hit the air his fist collided with Azathor's face, blooding his nose and leaving him on the floor sprawled up as he coughed up a bit of blood. He didn't even know what he had done to anger his father as his vision doubled from the pain. His blood stained the marbled floor underneath as many others in the hall watched silently out of fear. "Had you even a tenth of your brother's worth, you wouldn't be here." Sazak spoke with vile hatred in his tone, musing on the mess that he had made. The bloodstains annoyed him, moreso than his own child's health as his bloated and bruised face looked up at him with a pitiable look.

Azathor himself watched the scene replay, though was unable to stop it as he looked on - knowing full well what was to come. "No... no... please no..." he muttered, before screaming, "BELIAS! STOP!"

But his words fell on deaf ears as the scene continued to unfold, and his sister lunged out from the shadows from behind Sazak in a desperate bid to end the monster's life and stop her brother's torture. But Sazak was fast enough to spin about and barrel a fist straight towards her chest.

"STOP!!!!"

Azathor cried out with such grief and pain, that the scene stopped before it could play out once more. Reaching out with a free hand towards where Belias was and whimpered pathetically. He had remembered this scene a thousand times over, and even now it remained just as painful as it had been. It was his fault. He blamed himself for his sister's death, as much as he did Sazak, and collapsed to his knees with tears streaming down his face. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I was too weak..."

Tears fell to the ground of the palace as Azathor looked down in shame, unable to confront what he saw as an unenviable truth laid bare. He kept muttering to himself, asking for forgiveness from shades in his memory, until a hand placed itself on his shoulder. Surprised, Azathor looked up and saw his younger self looking at him with a pained look himself. One of pity.

"Forgive yourself."

Azathor shook his head, "...w-why? I was too weak... I led it to this."

His younger self smiled with a pained look on his face. "You already carry a great burden. You needn't carry the weight of the dead. Had it not been then, it would have been another time. She was always going to try to kill him. It was because of love that she tried to protect you."

Azathor remained silent as he listened to the words of one who would see him do better. His eyes remained fixed upon the ground, unable to bring them up.

"Forgive yourself... and become better for it. Not just for those around you, but for your own sake."

The demon prince looked up towards his younger self, realizing that these words were not his own in the end. He blinked as he collected the only logical conclusion out of all this: "...Gyasis?"

The figment smiled again. "A shadow of a thought, but yes." he spoke, lending a hand over towards Azathor as to help him stand once more. "Now stand. Stand strong and tall."

---

NOW​

Azathor returned to the material world, his vision no longer clouded as he found himself kneeling into the sand underneath. He gritted his teeth as he regained his senses, realizing that only a moment had passed for the time he felt been shown to him. He slowly rose, feeling a phantom grip on his own hand lifting him upwards onto his feet as if beckoned by the lingering remnants of divinity. The feeling quickly passed just as it came, and he balled his hand into a fist.

The demon prince took a deep breath inwards, and calmed himself as he took the words that had been gifted to him to heart. Grief would no longer burden his mind and soul, but rather become a strength to him. His memory of Belias would become that of love, not of self-hatred as he turned slowly towards the Icon and brandished Belias' sword towards the enemy. "No matter how bitter the path ahead me is. I will press on."

A second wind took hold of his body as he lunged forward, aiming to attack the Icon's legs with a wide slash.

 

[Dmaster]

Camille's technique had suffered from the unnatural anger that flared up, yet she made up for it with raw power behind her swings. The deep gashes she cut into the Icon's legs brought him low, yet she had to leap backward as she felt her emotional state waiver once more. Ever since she took up the mantle of being a hunter Camille had aimed to prove herself a peerless combatant and professional, someone that people could trust in to fight horrors others were too fearful to. For all the nightmares she had faced, nothing horrified her more than the feeling that was assailing her, her knees going weak as tears streamed down her eyes.

'At every turn, I have failed.'

Despite her cocky overconfidence, she nearly died on Grimtham several times throughout the inquiry. Saved by somebody she soon grew to respect, only for them to become a monster she could not slay. Her first child was cursed by Sazak, the horror she witnessed so unspeakable and scarring that the memory was a nightmare she could never shake. What was it all for? Had it all been luck that she had managed to survive? Nothing more than a frail human, walking along a blade's edge... Self-deprecating questions assailed her one after another as she looked through Vegras, her body tensing as she inhaled unsteadily.

'I still draw breath. Every failure was a lesson. I am here because the world burns, and I will no longer let others suffer from my mistakes."

Crying yet shifting her hopeless gaze into a determined scowl, Camille sprinted into the monster once again. Sliding herself under their foe, she hacked at his ankles to bring him low once again!

 

[Infab]

Caleling Reef - Marketplace - Icon Fight - Turn Three
Xiaòzhou attempts to heal Rebecca. Chance Roll = 7. Chance Successful. Rebecca regains 5 HP (Blessed Be Thy Body, Xiaòzhou's healing.) Rebecca's HP = 10.
Xiaòzhou = 4. Misses Vegras.
Rajko uses Deafening Screech. Chance Roll = 3. Misses Vegras.
Rajko has regained full health! (Blessed Be Thy Body.)
Royland = 10. Acc. Roll = 15. Does 15 DMG (Blessed Be Thy Weapons) to Vegras. Vegras HP = 138.
Sebastian = 8. Acc. Roll = 11. Does 13 DMG (Blessed Be Thy Weapons) to Vegras. Vegras HP = 125.
Azathor = 10. CH Roll = 3. Does 18 DMG (Blessed Be Thy Weapons, Combination Power, A Sister's Legacy) to Vegras. Vegras HP = 107.
Camille = 2. Misses Vegras.
Jayden = 9. Acc. Roll = 8. Does 13 DMG (Blessed Be Thy Weapons) to Vegras. Vegras HP = 94.
Claire = 2. Misses Vegras.
Cassandra = 4. Misses Vegras.
Rebecca = 10. Crit Roll = 9. Does 19 DMG (Blessed Be Thy Weapons) to Vegras. Vegras HP = 75.

--- --- ---

Vegras uses his Special Attack: Reign in Blood. Targets Cassandra. Chance Roll = 6. Chance Successful. Does 50 DMG to Cassandra. Cassandra has been KO'd!
Cassandra rises for a single turn (Godly Artifact (Gyasis)) to attack Vegras one last time before passing out.

--- --- ---

SPECIAL ATTACKS ARE NOW AVAILABLE.

​

As the group dealt with their sorrows and internal conflicts, they attempted to figure out what they each would do to take down the Icon that still stood before them. Some would be prove more focused than others, and would prove it with their strikes against the demon. Xiaòzhou would prove only to be half-focused, however. He managed to heal Rebecca up as best he could, before moving to strike at the Icon once more. But once again, he missed. Perhaps he would score another hit in the future as he did in the opening part of the battle? He just needed to focus.

Rajko unleashed a scream directed at the Icon, attempting to stun him with his wail, but somehow the Icon managed to avoid it by flicking a claw full of sand and rock at the werebat. A decent enough distraction. It, however, left him open to Royland's incoming scythe. The blade caught the Icon across the left arm, carving a deep gash through his flesh before Royland managed to rip it out with a jerk.

As Vegras clutched at his large wound, it distracted him long enough for both Sebastian and Jayden to pepper the demon's body with gunshots. Then, the other melee oriented members of the group made their moves. Azathor, Camille, Claire, Cassandra, and Rebecca rushed in, weapons ready to strike. But only Azathor and Rebecca would hit. Azathor cut another gash across the Icon's leg, forcing it to buckle, before Rebecca's downward slice cut the rest of the way through the arm that Royland had sliced.

Vegras' left arm fell to the ground, blood gushing from the stub left behind. He groaned in pain, before quickly avoiding the strikes from Camille, Claire, and Cassandra. Cassandra, however, would end up becoming the target of the Icon's wrath. As she made her attack, and missed thanks to both the Icon's movement and her own watering eyes, she soon found herself grabbed tightly by her arm.

And then came the pain.

A simple toss slung her to the ground, and the Icon's foot landed hard on her back in a vicious stomp. She couldn't cry out, as the sudden impact had knocked the wind out of her. Then, he grabbed her right arm again. There was a twist, full of audible cracking and snapping of bones, before he sharply jerked. The jerk pulled her arm loose, tearing it halfway up her bicep before ripping it completely off.

He slung it aside, the severed limb bouncing off a nearby boulder with a wet thud, before stepping off. Then, his remaining arm swung downward, driving the razor sharp claws of his gauntlet into her back. Another jerk followed, dragging her backwards and ripping most of the flesh off her back as the claws made their forceful exit.

"I'm sick of you, pureblood. It's about time I removed you from play."

With a final motion, he grabbed hold of Cassandra's leg and simply swung about. Releasing her and sending her darting through the air into the wall of rocks behind them. She impacted with a sickening thud, leaving a massive red splatter across the rocks before sliding down into a heap at its base.

Cassandra didn't move. No twitching or anything. She honestly looked dead, from what the group could see. And a new emotion began to settle in, eminating from the amulet. Fear.

Rebecca soon spoke up, as the emotion of terror began to build inside them. "Everyone, listen to me. The emotions you've felt since this fight started are your own, but they're being amplified and distorted by the Amulet. Focus. Steady yourselves, and we can win this." she called out, glancing between them before looking to Claire. "Claire, I need that amulet. I'm the only one here who can even remotely control its power."

Claire hesitated, but soon nodded and pulled the jeweled amulet from her neck. A simple toss, and the relic was soon in Rebecca's hands. She tucked it into her armor, making a silent prayer as she placed it behind her breastplate. Eventually, she looked back to where Cassandra lay.

She was about to say something else to reassure them in the face of fear and the potential loss of an ally, but she soon noticed Cassandra was now moving. The pureblood climbed to her feet, shifting and wobbling as she struggled to stand. Her face, bloodied and mangled from the impact, bore a look of sheer rage. One of her eyes was blood red, blood oozing from the socket as it was damaged by the impact as well, and a few teeth were broken. Her left arm was mangled as well, broken and twisted in three places. One leg was broken, the knee twisted at an angle it shouldn't have been. Blood gushed from her wounds. But she was standing, good eye glazed over and dilated.

And suddenly, she noticed the blood gushing from her destroyed right arm began to slow. And shift. Her lips were moving, but no words came from them. Rebecca knew what it was, however. The pureblood was casting a spell, and a dark one at that. Soon, the blood began to shift in form, shortening down and widening until it formed a long blade like appendage. Sharp, solid. Droplets of blood still dripped from the edges and tip, but it seemed Cassandra was intending to use it as her new weapon.

Her target: Vegras.

As she limped towards the Icon, her leg began to mend itself. Bones cracked and shifted, as it corrected itself until it was mostly usable. She was on the move, and they needed to be too.

Rebecca looked about again. "Ladies and gentlemen, let's finish this."

 

[Breadman]

Dread crept in as Royland observed what the Icon did to Cassandra. He had no love for the pureblood, but such awesome power was too much. How were they to stand against him? What hope could they have.

Everyone, listen to me. The emotions you've felt since this fight started are your own, but they're being amplified and distorted by the Amulet. Focus. Steady yourselves, and we can win this.

He 'blinked' at the realization of what was happening. They have been toyed with not by the Icons, but by the trinket. As Rebecca hurried to take it away and Cassandra's lifeless corpse rose once again, the knight collected his chain again. His helm was tossed aside and hurried to get ahead of the Icon. There was no telling if this would work, but he had to chance it. The lord of Wrath would feel the burning sting.

[Royland activates Penance stare]

 

[Worthlessplebian]

Fear. Unadulterated fear gripped the werebat's body like a ginormous hand around a soft, pliable bag of meat, bone, entrails and viscera. His rational mind struggled in vain to decipher what was happening to them. This is not their normal mode, this is not rushing emotions of battle, this was something else. He squeezed his head with the giant claws. Trying to pop it like a grape to let out all this dread in him.

Wait... This all started when she—

As Rajko made the realization, The Saint's own words corroborated his line of thinking. The man inside fell to his knees, but the inquisitor and the bat did not. Rajko called upon his morphogenic abilities as a werebat. He screeched to the sky and the stars and the clouds. The muscles in his jaw bulged then tightened beneath the furred skin. The mandibles thickened and teeth sharpened. Rajko saw Royland rushing towards the Icon. He crawled low to the ground to await his chance. And then? He exploded forward like a gun's bolt.

With this jaw that bites, he'll cleave Wrath's head clean off.

[SPECIAL ABILITY: GUILLOTINE MAW]​

 

[Damian0358]

Again.

Despite the Saint's recovery, our attacks do not penetrate.

And as if to render us broken, he has ripped Cassandra apart... ripping her arm off...

...

...that explains the emotional whiplash.

Tapping into our emotions this very moment... even our fears....

That amulet truly is terrifying.

Focus.

Fear, just as with frustration and depression, burdens one, and renders one further away from the Dou. To be one with nature - to abandon the notion of the body as the self, and know nature as the self - is to toss away not just fear, but hope too, for neither hold any power over you anymore.

Focus.

Embrace nature.

SPECIAL ATTACK: ZIRÁNQUAN x15
(activate The 10 Trials of Adriel / 10 HP)​

(if everyone else misses)​

 

[K0mori]

Watching Cassandra be quite literally disarmed and otherwise mangled sent a surge of panic through Sebastian's body, and as he wheeled backwards in fear, he threw down his shotgun into the muddy earth and turned to run away. It took all of his willpower to stay long enough and hear what Rebecca had to say, and when she took the amulet from Claire did the fog lift from his mind, and he realized that there was no escape, even if he truly wanted to flee... But the strength of his remaining allies convinced him that there was still a chance they could prevail.

He took out his axe and sized up the monstrous demon. For all his strength, it wouldn't change his fate- the Icon was chained to his coming demise just as Sebastian was chained to his role in ending him. He took several deep breaths to steel his nerves, and then, with a five step windup, he let out a battle cry and hurled his axe end-over-end at Vegras's head.

[Special Move: Aufspalten]​

 

[Dmaster]

Though she failed to strike at his legs to destabilize the Icon further, the huntress was going to quickly reorient herself and change up her strategy. Yet Cassandra being so easily brutalized invoked a building terror in Camille that she had difficult processing, actually staggering backward after having seen the gruesome event take place. Once more her breathing went unsteady, and she found herself starting to have some kind of panic attack that was impossible to control. Vision blurred as she found herself... shivering.

Rebecca called out to the group and explained the situation, Camille tracing the amulet's changing of hands with her gaze as she centered herself once again. Fear was something she was well acquainted with, and there was not a single duel or hunt that she had been on where she did not feel it. Whenever she fought any monstrous foe, the huntress was perpetually terrified for her life and with good reason. It was not something to resist, rather a tool for her to hone - her sense of danger and unyielding self preservation is why she had survived as long as she did, and it was why she would continue to survive.

Camille found her stance once again, looking up at Vegras' hulking but bloodied form as she flourished her sabers. Everyone here was terrified, but no one would flee. Once more she rushed into the fray, sprinting to the Icon's side before she leapt up and tried to slash her blades into him!

 

[Infab]

Caleling Reef - Marketplace - Icon Fight - Turn Four
Cassandra = 8. Does 20 DMG (Blessed Be Thy Weapons, Godly Artifact (Gyasis)) to Vegras. Vegras HP = 55. Cassandra passes out!
Royland uses Penance Stare. Chance Roll = 8. Chance Successful! Vegras has been stunned for a turn.
Rajko uses Special Attack: Guillotine Maw. Chance Roll = 5. Chance Successful. Does 50 DMG to Vegras. Vegras HP = 5.
Sebastian uses Special Attack: Aufspalten, Chance Roll = 6. Chance Successful. Does 50 DMG to Vegras. Vegras has been slain!
Camille = 6. Does 10 DMG (Blessed Be Thy Weapons) to Vegras. Overkill!

​

It was time to put an end to the hulking monster known as Vegras, the Icon of Wrath looking between the group and preparing to try and fight them off with his remaining arm. However, he didn't notice Cassandra had risen from her collapsed broken state until the last moment. As he sensed her aura, he spun about to find the pureblood now charging him. Arm readied to deliver a piercing jab with the bloody magically manifested blade that had replaced her arm temporarily. As he swung at her with his good arm, the pureblood slipped to the side to easily avoid it, before delivering an upward swing of the blade.

And when it connected, it sliced clean through the Icon's remaining arm. Severing it at the elbow. Now Vegras had no way to defend himself from what came next.

As Cassandra stumbled backwards, her blade starting to dissolve and return to its liquid state, her face shifted to one of intense pain. She clutched at her chest with her remaining arm, as if she were having a heart attack, before eventually falling backwards. As she hit the sand, landing with a thud, she went unconscious. She needed medical attention, but that would have to wait.

Royland was first to arrive, rushing and jumping onto the icon before grabbing him by the head. And a moment later, he leaned in and locked eyes with the Icon. Just as the others had felt, an overwhelming sensation of pain and agony began to flood into the Icon's head and body. Everything he had ever inflicted on someone else over the course of his life, reflected back upon him a thousand fold. But the cost was great. This was an Icon that Royland was doing this to, not some lowly demon. And soon enough Royland released the Icon, falling off and landing on the ground on his back. Vegras flailed in intense pain, as Royland began to writhe on the ground himself.

Then it was Rajko's turn to strike. The werebat's massive open jaws clamped onto the Icon's head from behind, and soon audible metal crunching noises could be heard. Rajko's immense jaw strength was coming into play, crushing the icon's helmet around the demon's head. Vegras let out a groan, trying to throw the werebat off with what was left of his arms, but it was near impossible. But Rajko would still move away, however. He spotted Sebastian, and noticed he was winding up for something. Camille leapt in just in time to deliver a vicious stab through the Icon's chest before jumping off and getting out of the way of whatever Sebastian was about to do.

Rajko released and leapt away, and Sebastian hurled the axe. As the weapon sailed through the air, it almost looked as though it bore a golden glow. The circular spin created a halo as it moved across the space between the soldier and Icon. And soon, it collided. The blade cut clean through the Icon's head, unimpeded by the helmet. In fact, it kept going, as if the axe were made of some sort of supernatural substance. It would soon find itself colliding with a wooden beam across the marketplace, edge lodged halfway into the wood.

The wound left by the axe was a clean cut V shape, spanning the length of his head from forehead to the back of his scalp. Vegras seemed dumbstruck by the act, standing there for a few moments, before eventually collapsing to his knees. He looked about, as his body began to shut down, and soon found his attention resting on Azathor. And his mouth moved, but no words came out. Azathor wouldn't need to hear them. He could read his lips. "...I always liked you."

And then, Vegras fell face first into the sand. Dead.

 

[joshuadim]

His strike had hit true yet again, this time to more immediate effect as it had caused Vegras to drop down with an attack to the leg. The Icon's retaliatory strike against the group was swift and fearsome, as it filled the hearts of many around the demon prince with dread. He had utterly devastated Cassandra, tearing off an arm and tossing her around like a toy, which caused a moment of pause for Azathor as he watched the scene unfold. Unlike the others, his fear was much less overwhelming and instead was an undercurrent that flowed along with his other emotions that he had reconciled with just earlier.

But it was when Cassandra reconstituted her missing arm with dark magic that Azathor realized that Vegras' gambit of permanently taking out one of them had failed. The group's subsequent onslaught felled the Icon once and for all, leaving him a bloodied mess. Azathor did not even need to contribute to the assault due to its ferocity in dispatching Vegras. Instead, he looked straight into the Icon's fading eyes and read the words that had been delivered to him as a parting gift. He knew exactly what Vegras had meant by this, regarding his own history with Azgon, but he refused to dwell on it as he flicked his blade - cleaning the blood off it with a single stroke - before sheathing it on his back.

The fighting was done, and for a brief moment Azathor felt once more what was a phantom grip on his shoulder that exuded a reassurance before it faded just as quickly from sensual memory.

"It is done." Azathor commented, looking away from Vegras' corpse and towards the group. "Two icons are dead now. I expect Taranoch's retribution to be fierce."

 

[K0mori]

Sebastian fell to one knee when the Icon went down for good, out of a combination of physical and emotional exhaustion. He stayed there and breathed for a bit, before shakily rising to his feet again, walking over to where his shotgun still lay in the muck, and picking it up off the ground. Everything was so eerily quiet, now, as he moved past the Icon's body, and that of Cassandra, who had done... something unholy that had sliced the creature's arm off before she collapsed from the mauling she had already taken. He wondered whether the Saint had the strength to control the vampire any longer, should she awaken in a murderous mentality yet again. Solemnly, he approached the axe which had embedded itself into a distant beam of wood, reflecting on the attack which had ended Vegras' life.

...I did that.

The thought crossed his mind as he laid his hand on the handle, remembering the golden halo which surrounded the weapon as it hurtled through the air. Of course, it was thanks to the blessings brought down by Rebecca that the attack was lethal to the demon, but nonetheless, Sebastian had faced an Icon as a mere mortal man and had delivered a strike that ended an immortal life. Yanking the axe free, he turned it around and watched the grime wash off the head in the rain before he slipped it into the loop on his belt.

He took out a match and a cigarette, lit up and puffed. He understood, now, why Adona had sent him.

 

[Damian0358]

...what could have turned out a near-pure manifestation of nature's strength, was redirected to begin healing everyone. As if held back by nature itself, Xiaòzhou's spiritual focusing had enabled Sebastian to strike the finishing blow. He looked him over, wondering how he is feeling after having done something like that.

As everyone else adjusted themselves, the hermit walked over to Cassandra's ripped-off arm. He stared at it briefly wistfully, before picking it up and tossing it onto Cassandra's unconscious body. He worked on stabilizing her condition.

 

[Infab]

"Two icons are dead now. I expect Taranoch's retribution to be fierce."

"Highly likely." said Rebecca, as she straightened up. A simple glance was cast to Azathor, before she looked quickly to between Royland writhing form and Cassandra's unconscious one. Xiaòzhou was already attempting to tend to Cassandra, but she needed a particular type of healing. One she was capable of giving her. Royland, on the other hand, was suffering from the backfire of whatever he had done to Vegras.

"Xiaòzhou, quickly. Tend to Royland instead. The damage done to Cassandra will require a Saint's touch." she said, quickly marching over to his side. She looked worried. Saddened, even.

Claire, meanwhile, was on the approach. Eyeing the body of pureblood as she moved. As she neared, she started to notice just how bad Cassandra's condition was. Xiaòzhou noticed it as well, upon a second look.

Cassandra's blood from her wounds and stump of an arm had turned into a sort of blackened ooze, seeping out and into the sand beneath her. The skin around her eyes had darkened, taking on a more sunken appearance, and her damaged eye had turned near completely black. A thin, wavering trail of dark smoke drifted away from several points across her form, originating from the trails and pools of blood. And the stench was horrendous. Almost like pure rot.

"Cass... you didn't have to resort to this." muttered Rebecca, as she laid her sword in the sand next to her and looked over the unconscious pureblood.

Claire paused next to her. "What is it? What did she do?"

"Black magic." responded Rebecca, glancing up. "She used a particularly dark art to do what she did. Specifically a blood magic spell."

"Blood magic? Like that demon mage we fought?"

"Yes, though the circumstances, and what Cassandra is, are far different." stated the Saint. "And what you see before you is the price she paid."

She said a prayer, making gestures with her hands, before holding them over Cassandra's chest. Then they began to glow with a warm, golden light.

"They call it the Burn, so I've heard from other spell casters. I've also heard it less often referred to as the Blackening, or the Black Consumption. The Church's term for it is Soul Staining, but I never considered that term very accurate." stated the Saint as she began to slowly heal Cassandra. "Magic is dangerous to do without a method to harness it. Dark magic, especially. Grimoires, staves, wands, and so on are tools used in the workings of spells. Often doing magic without at least one of those items ends up with the caster in this state."

She sighed. "I'll explain more later. For now, I must focus if I am to heal the damage. It will take several hours of work, off and on, but she'll be back to normal soon enough. I'll mend her mind as well, so when she wakes up, the other bloodthirsty side of her will be locked away again."

A moment after Rebecca finished speaking, Cassandra began coughing. And it it grew into a fit of hacking and coughing until she rolled over onto her side and threw up. All that came out was jet black. A black mass of rancid, smokey black liquid.

Rebecca waited for a moment, before resuming her work. "...Why, Cass?" she whispered, "...Why such vile magics?"

 

[Dmaster]

The battles had been bloody and exhausting, not just physical but mentally. It was no surprise that Vegras was felled in a truly spectacular matter, through Cassandra's stomach-turning counter attack as something like a reanimated corpse and Sebastian's brave assault. As soon as the light faded from the Icon's eyes, Camille fell to a knee as she panted ceaselessly. Between a near death experience with the Icon of Pride and the storm of shifting emotions with this battle, she had much to process.

Her eyes followed Xiaòzhou as he started to work on stabilizing Cassandra, and soon the huntress composed herself a touch better before she sheathed her blades and trotted through the wet sand to join the group.

Camille was far from an expert on the magical arts, her aptitude always turned toward more martial combat and physical improvement than rigorous study. Despite that she could not help but think a tool to cast such dangerous spells would be far better than using one's body. Just because the huntress could perhaps grow her nails out to claw at someone doesn't mean she shouldn't be using a sword. It seemed rather obvious.

I'll mend her mind as well, so when she wakes up, the other bloodthirsty side of her will be locked away again."

"About how many times can you mend a shattered vase before you start misplacing the pieces?" the huntress asks coldly, a mix between a genuine question as well as a slight of the futility of Cassandra's state. Hearing those whispers, she narrowed her eyes at the pureblood who pathetically lay in the otherworldly muck she was hacking up. Vile magic for a vile soul, Camille thought to herself, turning on her heel to depart. For the good of the mission she restrained her antagonizing remarks, but after the emotional turmoil that took place moments ago it was hard for her to hold in how she felt. For all the sins Cassandra has committed, Camille could never find it in her to grant her forgiveness. Perhaps that was one of the reasons she could never be a saint like Rebecca.

The huntress skulked away from the saint to leave her to her work, not wanting to throw off her concentration any further. Meandering about, she came upon Sebastian looking quite bewildered and approached him.

"That was quite the throw, mon ami," she compliments, before gesturing to the cigarette he smoked. "May I trouble you for one of those?"

 

[Damian0358]

Xiaòzhou nodded as Rebecca marched over to him and Cassandra's body. He had largely just worked to ensure she didn't die here and there, and it wasn't until the Saint remarked on the damage she suffered that he decided to look deeper ever briefly... and realized this was beyond him. Even if he were familiar with the higher levels of his homeland's traditional medicine, he wouldn't be able to help with this. St. Rebecca's worry and sadness was truly justified.

The hermit rushed over to Royland, to help him instead, both by stabilizing him and working to see if there was anything he could do to relieve his pain.

 

[K0mori]

"Ja," Sebastian replied, producing another cigarette and handing it to Camille. She had called him a friend; that hadn't gotten past him, although he didn't have much to say about it but give a hint of a smile. He appreciated the gesture after everything they had been through since that day in Escaria. As he lit a match, he watched Cassandra's horrific ordeal from afar, and his expression faded. He then touched the flame to the end of Camille's cigarette before dropping it into the muddy earth, where it was extinguished.

"...Black magic," he said quietly, repeating after the saint. "I wonder where she picked that up," he remarked almost sarcastically. Camille recalled their conversation from the morning of the prior day, when she had spoken of Mariette weaving dark magics of her own, and realized that Sebastian had been listening closely and was already assigning blame. "Still," he added, "good to see these ugly tricks come back to haunt the ones who teach them."

 

[Dmaster]

Camille greatly empathized with Sebastian's situation, being someone that you could call 'ordinary' (if such a thing still exists in this world) being thrust into a purpose so grand and important that few could comprehend it. To have gone through what he has and will continue to endure without going mad or turning their back on their mission was admirable, and the huntress would have to be a fool to not respect that. She caught that small hint of a smile and returned it with one of her own, pinching the cigarette between her fingers, "Merci."

Taking a drag of the cigarette, she gave a pleased exhale as the smoke smoothly billowed from between her lips. While she typically was not fond of the habit and didn't smoke as much as the average Escarian might, the ordeal of a battle they had conquered left her needing one sorely. It was a simple pleasure that was slowly grounding her back to where she needed to be, her head turning back toward Cassandra and Rebecca as Sebastian commented.

"I like to think that they always do, in the end. The true horror lies with those they drag down with them," Camille replies before she takes another measured puff, lowering her hand to her side to tap away the building ash. "It isn't good. I don't think that Cassandra has long. The Saint's patience and capacity for forgiveness are boundless, as they probably should be. Yet if the worst comes to pass, and if Rebecca hesitates..." she pauses, her tired expression shifting to something more grim but convicted. "I shall not."

 

[Infab]

Hours passed, with Rebecca taking breaks between her healing of the unconscious body of Cassandra. Purging it of the Burn that had almost consumed her. During one of her breaks, she managed to summon an angel. And this time, it was Cassiel himself.

Her report was given, and the bodies of the two Icons were displayed to the angel as they spoke. "The Icons of Pride and Wrath, respectively." stated the Saint, "Both being the newer recruits in Taranoch's entourage. We also managed to locate Gyasis's amulet... I request that Undite has a chance to hold it before it's locked away somewhere."

Cassiel nodded solemnly. "...I understand. I'll see that she's both first and last to hold it in hand." he said softly, before looking towards the others. Among the ruins of the marketplace, the group had made a small camp for the night. Bodies and skeletons had been moved, both given proper burials by a few of the group that had volunteered to do so. The bodies of the Icons would, instead, be burned using holy fire before they left for town in the morning. Rebecca herself would see to that.

He then looked to the tent where Cassandra lay unconscious, before speaking again. "What of Cassandra? How goes the healing?"

Rebecca sighed. "I'm almost done. The spell she used was quite destructive, and her body was already mangled before she even began casting it. Of course, she wasn't in her right mind in the first place, so I doubt she even knew she was doing it."

Cassiel nodded. "Yes. She will likely not even remember doing it. A blessing, I guess." said the angel. He then looked to Rebecca once more. "...And what of her mind?"

"I put the mental block back in place. Its up to her to maintain it. If the worst occurs, however, I'll be forced to take drastic measures."

"...You mean the Spell of Divine Incarceration? That hasn't been used in centuries. Ser Vought was the last to use it."

"...Yes. I pray it's not needed, and she'll be able to contain herself until things are settled. I don't want to cause her that kind of pain, or strip her of her powers before we have no more use for them."

"...Let us pray she's strong enough, then." he whispered, before casting his gaze next to Royland's tent. Xiaòzhou was leaving from it, having tended to Royland throughout the day in an attempt to help him cope with the aftermath of his penance stare on an Icon. A bold move, but also costly.

"I fear for Royland's mental state." said Cassiel, forcing Rebecca to also look in the tent's direction. "As a wraith, he was already dealing with far too much. As a knight of Velin, more was stacked onto that. And now, this mission, and the use of his powers on an Icon of all beings..."

"I... don't know how to help him." responded Rebecca. "My powers just... don't work on his kind, as much as I wish to help. I can't mend his mind, or ease his suffering. And Xiaòzhou is trying all he can, but his work seems to be bearing no fruit either."

"... I will ask Tariun as to what can be done for Wraiths. She will likely know, or know someone who does know." responded the angel.

Rebecca nodded in response, before reaching behind her armor's breastplate and drawing out the godly artifact. She gazed down upon it, and faintly smiled as she took in the beauty of the jeweled trinket. Then, she held it out to Cassiel. "Keep it safe."

The angel smiled, and nodded as he took the amulet in hand. "I assume you all will be heading back to Tariun's inn? You at least deserve a few days rest before moving on to find the other artifacts." he said, as he slipped the amulet into his vest pocket.

Rebecca nodded. "If the time can be spared, yes. We'll need the rest. A few good meals and some shut-eye, too." she said, adding a hint of a chuckle at the end.

However, Cassiel noticed something in Rebecca's eyes. Something was off about the Saint. She never looked at him for too long, casting her gaze elsewhere whenever she got the chance. Eventually, he spoke up.

"...What's wrong, Rebecca?"

Rebecca hesitated, looking back to the angel for a brief moment before letting her eyes drift towards the ground.

"These Icons... They're unlike the ones I fought before. Even these newer ones. And I almost died three times over the course of the day... I feel as though I've grown sloppy... or weak, even. I fear I'll make mistakes here. Costly mistakes."

"...You're doubting yourself." said the angel, before reaching up and placing a hand on her shoulder. "Don't. Heaven chose you for a reason, Rebecca, and it is because we believe in you. A thousand of us wouldn't have given up their heavenly essence if they didn't believe in you. Adona himself also believes in you. You can do this. You'll lead everyone to victory against Taranoch and his ilk, and put an end to this once and for all."

--- --- ---
​

As the morning came, the sky brightening above, some members awoke to the sound of crackling fire. Rebecca, as she said she would do, had gathered wood for a bonfire in which to burn the bodies of both of the Icons. Only a pair need move the body of the Icon of Pride, while it took all of the able bodies of the group to heave the corpse of the Icon of Wrath into the inferno. But once they had been dealt with, it was time to move on. Back to town, and back to Tariun's Inn.

Cassandra and Royland had to be put onto special stretchers, which drug the ground gently behind their horses while members of the group pulled them along. If anyone asked about them, like a guard, Rebecca would simply say that she was already providing them the needed medical attention. It was enough to shoo most away, save for curious children that happened to wander along next to the horses.

Eventually, they would arrive at the inn, and Tariun's kobold underling would see that everyone was given proper rooms to use. Cassandra and Royland were given private rooms, so that they could heal in peace, per Tariun's direction. Tariun, of course, would keep word of what happened to Cassandra from Mariette, lest the demoness appear to reclaim her lover. Cassandra was still needed here, and would be for the forseeable future.

END OF CHAPTER ONE


​

 

[joshuadim]

THE ATRACAN-TSAVANIAN FRONT

"You will hear the thunder and remember me.
The sky will be the colour of crimson red.
Your heart will be as it was then."
-Unknown Tsavanian Soldier



​

---

Artem had just turned 18 when the war that consumed the continent broke out. The village courier had brought news to the rural folk of the ongoings of the world, that their realm was now at war with both their neighbours of Atraca and Escaria. Already the Tsar had mobilized hundreds of thousands, with many more in the process of receiving their papers to report to the nearest draft offices. Of course, for a small town on the periphery of the empire that meant a day's travel to the city of Korosets on a dirt road. But Artem, having dreamed of the glory of war like any young boy had before, did not need to be served papers to feel the call of the motherland. He and a few of the other boys in his stead, some of whom lied about their age, left in the dead of night to answer the call.

At the Selection Service Office, he was surrounded by countless other faces of young men and boys. Though most were there to answer the call of conscription, rather than any sense of patriotic duty a peasant like him had been compelled by. He and his peers looked more lively and joking in stark contrast to the nervousness and concern that laced the minds of the conscripts that were there. It was at the office, that when Artem stepped forward to the draft officers, that their commander shouted his praises towards his dedication to the Tsar and to the motherland. It made him feel like a giant amongst others to receive such compliments.

But such words were meaningless when he arrived to the front. He was a body among many to throw at the enemy, and to defend against the waves sent against them.

It was in their first charge over the trench that Kyrylo, Lazar, and Taras all fell to machine gun fire. The second charge, it was Oleksy that was torn apart by an artillery shell. And their first wave defence against the Atracans nearly saw Artem join the dead from the bombardments of heavy guns. He was rotated for a few weeks to the rear to recuperate, seeing the horrors of war firsthand amongst bloodied bandages and stumped legs, before being cycled back into the lines.

The romantic pictures of war had long since died, replaced by the grim reality set forth before him. The Tsardom was not doing well in this war, as they had already lost a major trench line to the Escarians in the east. And the west had turned into a grinding, brutal meat grinder in the highlands where Artem was now.

His tired eyes peeked over the muddy trench he inhabited, amongst his Company, before settling down again to sit. The air had been quiet, save for the cawing of crows pecking at rotting flesh in the distance.

["Так? Щось бачите?"] asked Illya, one of his compatriots from the same region of the empire.

Artem shook his head. ["Ні. Просто дим і мертві."]

Illya sighed as he leaned with his back towards the trench wall. ["Минув тиждень після останніх обстрілів. Ці виродки щось планують."]

["Я візьму це замість альтернативи. Принаймні ми знаємо, що будемо дихати."] Artem said flatly as he searched for a cigarette among his pouches. However, he realized he had run out. He turned to ask Illya for one, but they were interrupted by the arrival of a third member of their Company.

["Командир сказав готуватися до бою."] Yakiv spoke, his eyes betraying the fear that was masked by the rest of his visage.

A howl preceded and explosion nearby, kicking up dirt and mud that pattered the trench. Artem and Illya looked to one another for a moment, processing the sudden change in the air, before scrambling to collect their rifles. Another wave was coming. Another attack. He peered over the ledge with rifle in hand, pulling back the bolt and inserted several bullets before aiming down the iron sights. His breathing was haggard as adrenaline took over, preparing him to stand and fight against his own self-preserving instincts.

He wished he was back home among the wheat fields and black soil under a pristine blue sky.

 

[K0mori]

Kur, Land of Vainglory
​

The halls of Sazak's palace were filled with music. One would think, with the revelry and décor, that Kellea was celebrating the final victory of Taranoch's forces over the Rebellion. She sat in a throne-like seat in the grand antechamber to oversee the strangely practiced movements of her subjects, dictated to her exact specifications. In Sazak's absence, it had become her marionette stage, a place to play pretend at being an Icon. But the true position had been foolishly denied her, as Taranoch viewed her unfit to rule the Land of Pride after her insufferable defeat at the hands of the Beaumont Mission. Instead, it was Sazak who called upon her, requesting her perfect form to grace the halls of his palace while he moved across the mortal world.

Indeed, it was not her own failings which led to that defeat, nor would she suffer any fool to slander her with such rot. Wallace, that arrogant brute, had not been an adequate ally against their enemies and their pilfered weapons and armor. If only she had been accompanied by a single, competent assistant, then Kellea would have made short work of all of them. Instead, she was forced to swallow the humiliation of blunting her blade against too-many foes. She huffed, resting her jaw atop her fist as she considered the news as of late...

Greed had fallen. Gluttony would likely be next. Knasus was dead. Vegras was dead. Istres... Kellea cared little about Istres. If anything, the death of her rival paved the way for an overdue homecoming; she but needed one simple blessing from Taranoch to sweep into the palace in Duzakh and accept the long-overdue groveling of her subjects. She had imagined the extensive redecoration of its halls to reflect her immaculate sensibilities, but since her unthinkable rejection, she had been forced to subsist merely on the temporary redecoration of Sazak's palace, a taste for the masses to experience her grand and transformative vision.

Someday, she knew, they would throw themselves at her feet.

But for now, she concerned herself with vipers in her midst. They privately questioned her leadership, her insight, and her strength. But tellingly, they wouldn't dare to say so openly - she knew, thanks to one of Sazak's favored guardsmen. He had learned of how the Beaumont Mission had gone through her and chose to speak of it in her presence. She made a fast example of him: flaying his skin from his body where he stood and ordering the other guardsmen, not the house servants, to clean up the mess.

Loyalty in servitude was greater currency to her than gold. Those who were intelligent enough to recognize perfection and to prostrate themselves at its arrival were given a place of honor in her court. While some talented blades would be displaced by their promotion, jealousy would lead them back into the fold, given time. But, she feared that if Taranoch returned victorious before enough time had passed, then her temporary arrangements would be reversed. And he would be victorious, despite Gyasis's amulet slipping through his grasp, as such a treasure was no longer lost. Instead, it was in the hands of the mortals and their dwindling gods.

Kellea needed a victory of her own at this critical moment. In his travels, Taranoch would come to hear that as his icons failed him, and as his empire was marred by a rebellion hitherto unchecked, incompetence at seemingly every level, that a demon princess he had spurned had just scored a decisive victory of her own design. This time, she would have the assistance she needed to guarantee success, and things would be different. Moreover, she had faced her target before, and knew that she would be easy prey.

Mariette, that pathetic wretch that Sazak brought into his protection, was making a name for herself, literally and figuratively. Lisykna? What a mockery of a good name, she fumed. The woman had finished her transformation into a demon thanks to Tariun providing refuge, and worst of all, she was nurtured by royal blood along the way, Kellea's included. Her very existence was completely intolerable. To hear that she had led the largest force yet assembled by the rebellion into Erebos and emerged victorious made her sick to her stomach.

But Kellea knew that it wasn't true. At Lisykna's side was no less than Xager, Neroph, Annen, Mazkas, and the damned seraph, Sariel! With so many powerful allies, how could one possibly screw it up? And moreover, Knasus was betrayed from within! At most, she must have simply stood out of the way, while the archdemons and royal bloods carved their way through the city to thwart the grand scheme which was built to destroy them. How dare she claim credit for such a turn of events.

Kellea seethed. It should have been me.

She could feel the envy deep in her bones. If she had such allies, she could conquer the Abyss herself. But that was not how fate had shaped events thus far, and so it was up to her to settle the score. Kellea would find Mariette with a few of her chosen, and ambush her when she was away from her "friends" and unprotected. Kellea would beat her, and tear her, and drain the ill-gotten blood from the witch's body, and at the end of the day, all will know: what the gathered forces of Greed and its allies could not do, Kellea had done alone.

---

The Hollowlands
​

Darkness had descended across the empty wastes, dotted with campfires for the newly-formed army as it grew and trained for the mission ahead. New recruits were arriving by the day, slowly swelling the ranks as quickly as the rebels could accommodate them, and sometimes even faster than that, so that some were sleeping on the bare ground. There was still much work to do, but it was progressing smoothly as the soldiers' half-empty bellies were supplemented by the steady stream of morale-boosting news from across the two realms. Hearing, several days prior, that two icons had been felled in one day by mortals, set off such a wave of elation throughout the camp that Lisykna could barely maintain discipline.

She had worked so hard to temper them, to help them keep their focus, that she still hadn't been able to enjoy it herself. Tariun had informed her after the fact, of course, that the mortals had all survived and were recovering at her inn, and that Cassandra would send another letter when able. That was enough for her, and so tonight, finally, Mariette uncorked a bottle of wine and poured herself a glass, mixing it together with the best vial of blood that she had on hand.

Footsteps crunched on the dry earth nearby, and she glanced up at Phytraag, who was bringing in the latest scouting report. They knelt on the ground. "My Lady, there is a powerful foe in the area. They have concealed their true aura, but we have nonetheless detected them."

"How many?" Lisykna replied, setting her drink aside.

"It is a small group, led by an archdemon, at least. Two of our scouts have died. The remainder report that it may be Kellea herself."

Lisykna rose to her feet and took up her sword. "Take me to her," she ordered.

The yellow glints of Phytraag's eyes widened within their hood. "Just you, my Lady? Should we not alert the entire camp?"

"Just me." Lisykna confirmed.

 

[K0mori]

The Hollowlands (continued)​

Loitering around the corpses of Mariette's scouts, Kellea and her four guards waited to see who would take the bait next. Her hope was that the rebels would continue to send small parties to investigate, as their hidden auras suggested scouts as well, as opposed to the reality of a demonic princess and four archdemons. She believed that continued losses would eventually draw out Mariette's officers, and then, should they continue to bleed while Kellea makes herself scarce, they'll fan out in the search and provide a chance for Kellea to catch the witch alone and unprotected.

After a while, she seemed to get her wish. Another pair of auras came to investigate- weak ones. Easy prey.

Turning to face her new opponents, however, Kellea and her guard were shocked to find Mariette approaching with nothing but a single scout to guide her. Was this some kind of trick? Mariette was known for her underhanded tricks and illusions, and so Kellea let out an aristocratic guffaw, waiting for Mariette to pull the curtain back and reveal her trick. "Well, that was easier than I expected it to be. I'm glad to see you again, Mariette. You're looking 'well.' Of course, I'll be happier when I see the real you, and not whatever spell you've cast this time."

Mariette stopped and drew her sword from its scabbard.

"Oh? Did the rebellion actually bother making some equipment for you, or did you raid another one of my ancestors' tombs?" her words were laced with venom, excited to see Mariette take the bait and taunt her as she did before. She knew the witch would say anything to get under her skin, and had been preparing, ever since the last fight, to shrug off the references to her prior failures and dismissals, and the immature name-calling. How Mariette would squirm to see her jokes fall flat!

A cherry-red flame ripped from the hilt down to the tip of Mariette's sword as she raised her gauntleted hand and snapped her finger. An aura far in excess of an ordinary demon escaped from its spell-woven ward and washed over Kellea and her guards. As they reached for their swords in a panic, now sensing a power akin to their own leader menacing them from a distance, Kellea shook her head and refused to accept it.

"Well? Say something!" Kellea barked, sauntering out in front of her guards, emptyhanded. "Is all this show supposed to scare me? I haven't forgotten who and what you are, Mariette. So, who's hiding behind your eyes? Is it Xager this time? Annen? Who's going to fight your battles for you!?" By now, Kellea had begun focusing on Phytraag, convinced that Mariette had disguised herself as the scout.

Without a word, Mariette exploded from the ground, disappearing in the middle distance. Kellea dashed backwards, feeling the heat of the witch's hellfire swipe past, inches from her throat before her foe reappeared in front of her. Now, Kellea drew her sword, realizing that she would need to deal with the imposter first, before she would be permitted to end Mariette's life at long last. One of her guards turned and swung his battle axe while another gathered a blast of lightning, but the imposter vanished again as soon as her feet touched the ground, and Kellea, now expecting the entire personage before her to be an illusion, failed to guard herself.

Instead, she was finally awoken to the danger, as Lisykna's gauntleted hand made contact with her neck with the force of a sonic boom and tore her completely off the ground. Her mind couldn't process it until her back was skidding across the rocky ground, with Lisykna's eyes inches from her own.

"It's me."

With a squeeze of her gauntlet, she could have ended Kellea there, but a ball of lightning struck her in the back and her grip slackened. In that split second, Kellea rolled away, her mind reeling at the terror setting in. She was no longer holding her own sword - Lisykna had pounced on her so suddenly that it was knocked clean out of her hand. One of her guards scooped it off the ground and tossed it back to her, just in time for her to turn and witness the Lisykna turn her blade toward the lightning caster and unleash a blast of fire that tore up the earth between them and fully engulf the mage in a white-hot blaze.

So be it, Kellea decided. Regardless of what she had originally planned, she would have to fight this disguised demonic princess first and then kill Mariette. She still refused to accept the reality of the situation, even as she recalled that the real Mariette was quite gifted with hellfire. There was simply no way that the damned witch was this powerful. "Fine, we'll play your game!" she shouted, launching herself forward with her sword out. The imposter turned, narrowly deflecting the strike with her gauntlet as the archdemon with an axe closed in with an overhead swing. With one windmilling swing of her sword, Lisykna connected with the polearm of the axe and cleaved it in two, before following through and lobbing the demon's arm off at the elbow.

He let out a bloodcurdling scream as the axehead - and his arm - tumbled to the ground. Kellea's mage meanwhile emerged from the cloud of smoke nearby, having survived Lisykna's hellfire while covered in burns. As he frantically prepared another ball of lightning, the fear and disorder was beginning to spread to the other two guards, who edged away from the fight rather than towards it.

Kellea had planned for this possibility. Maybe it was Xager behind Mariette's eyes, and she was truly outmatched. It didn't fully matter - her guards would die on her behalf if necessary while she made her escape, leaving none to even tell the tale of this encounter back in the Land of Vainglory. But she wasn't willing to leave just yet, not before she drew blood as punishment for this deception. "You two, get that scout!" Kellea demanded, pointing to Phytraag. "She's hiding in plain sight!" she insisted.

The severed axe head spun through the air, having been picked off the ground by Lisykna, and Kellea was forced to deflect it with her sword. Again, the imposter disappeared, slamming into her a moment later in a way which nearly knocked her over. Fighting for her footing, Kellea swiped with her sword at the imposter's neck, who merely ducked backwards while throwing a wall of hellfire out before herself. This time, the fire made contact, and Kellea let out a yelp as it singed her before driving another swipe through the reddish haze. She locked swords with her opponent, who stared furiously into her eyes.

"It's me," Lisykna repeated, and the guards paused in mid-pursuit, unsure if they should try to chase down the scout, or if they should aide their commander. With a tilt of her head, Lisykna used the opportunity to signal Phytraag to leave the site, and they disappeared immediately into the night.

There wasn't a hint of humor to any of it. Kellea pushed her away, swiping several more times in rapid succession, her blood running cold. This time, she scored a hit to the imposter's side and left a gash in her armor, a spray of sparks shooting off into the night air as she rolled with it before responding in kind. Kellea could barely keep up with the speed of the attacks until lightning struck the imposter in the small of her back, and she faltered. Now, Kellea pressed her advantage, landing a punch with the hilt of her sword right into her foe's jaw before leaping into a pirouette, aiming to decapitate her.

Instead, Lisykna matched her, her sword a crimson streak in the middle of Kellea's vision, and when the two blades collided it sounded as if a bomb had gone off. Kellea stumbled to the dirty ground, blood trickling down the side of her head as her sword hand suddenly felt lighter. Horrified, she found herself holding only the hilt and a small portion of the blade. The rest of it was shattered into a dozen pieces and sent in every direction, including one which had struck her in the side of the head. For a moment, Lisykna loomed over her, leaving the princess quivering in terror behind her hands. "F-fight you cowards!" she stammered.

The others held back, allowing Lisykna time to lift her sword up and ignite it, as she did just before she killed Knasus, until finally the electric mage intervened, shocking her once again. As her foe let out an agonized scream, Kellea scrambled out from beneath her in sheer panic, rushing to create a portal back to Vainglory. She dove through it, landing clumsily on the tiled floor of the grand antechamber where she started, before closing the portal behind herself, leaving her guardsmen to die. Rising to her feet, she found herself gripping the back of her throne-like chair, breathing hard through clenched teeth.

Not a trick. It was her. It was her the whole time.

A fury welled up inside of her, and the few, shocked subjects who were staring at her after he sudden arrival backed away cautiously toward the exits. Instead, she lifted her hand and clenched a fist, pulling all of the doors closed at once, sealing them inside. No one can know of this, she decided.

---
​

Lisykna sighed as the flames extinguished on her sword moments after ending the life of the last of Kellea's guards. She had been so close; when the lightning struck her in the back she had done everything in her power to bring the blade down on her, but her body simply wouldn't obey. Kellea had slipped away, and would never underestimate her again. She gathered up a few trophies off the bodies of the guards to distribute back at camp, and then departed.

 

[Infab]

Long Ago...​

The thick forest around the Bainbridge Estate was vast, stretching for several hundred acres in a circle around the manor and the family's other holdings. A mixture of tall pines and hardwood trees, they towered above all whom entered the forest and their density provided a sort of safe haven for that which dwelt within. However, the forest was known to be quite an eerie place as days drew to a close. As the sun lowered in the sky, darkness settled in the woods quickly. Reaching a point where things were pitch black as soon as the sun lowered beneath the horizon.

Young Cassandra Bainbridge wasn't scared of the forest, or of the dark. She found it fun to explore, and in the dark, it proved to be even more of an adventure. However, her adopted sister Elizabeth tended to accompany her during her forays into the forest and would often get separated. Resulting in Cassandra having to follow the sounds of yelling and crying until she could find her sister and take her back to the manor.

Tonight was a similar case. They had entered the forest a few hours ago, deciding to go check out where some deer had decided to gather near a cluster of wild oak trees. When they arrived, they had found that most of the deer had moved on. A few remained, however, and Cassandra and Elizabeth decided to watch them move about. They wanted to go play with the fawns, but often deer tended to run from humans. And these would do just that as they tried to near them.

It grew dark quickly, as they tried to make their way back to the manor. Eventually, the pair would get separated too. For a solid hour, after the sun went down, Cassandra would try and hunt down her lost adopted sibling. Trying to follow the sounds of Elizabeth's yelling, while calling out herself.

"Elizabeth!" she shouted. Her voice echoed through the forest. Her father would be mad, more than likely. He always warned the pair about venturing too far into the forest, and even being in it during the night. Recently, there had been word of monster sightings in the area of the estate. Werebeasts, mainly, but there were rumors of other creatures such as ghouls. Local Atracan hunters were supposedly investigating things, but it had also drawn the attention of the inquisitors of the Vigilant Order as well (being that it was so close to a member of Atracan royalty.)

As Cassandra called out again, unsure as to why she hadn't heard a response from Elizabeth yet, she stepped between a pair of tall pines and tripped over a root. Landing on her face in the grass and dirt. "O-Ow." she breathed, as she tried to push herself up off the ground. Her skirt was all dirty now, but she didn't care. She didn't like skirts, or dresses. They didn't allow for a lot of movement like a nice pair of breeches or trousers.

As she stood up, she looked about. It was already almost pitch black in the forest. She couldn't see very far at all. Maybe ten to twenty feet, to the nearest cluster of trees. But her eyes spotted movement, as she looked to her right. And soon, whatever was moving, was right next to her.

It wasn't a beast, or a ghoul. And it didn't attack her, proving it was more curious than anything. As Cassandra's eyes adjusted to the dark, she soon found herself looking up at a person. And then a lantern flickered to life, illuminating both them and the area around them for a good distance.

A woman clad in black gazed down at her, lantern held up so that Cassandra could see their face clearly. She had long silvery-white hair, and a pair of almond-brown eyes were locked upon the young girl's own green ones. Then, the woman held up a gloved hand, index finger extended which she held close to her own mouth as she spoke.

"Shhh... Pretty things shouldn't be out at night." she said quietly, "There are monsters lurking in the dark."

Now

Ruins of an Old Estate, Kingdom of Atraca

​

Gazing upon the ruins of the mansion before Sazak brought back various memories, a smirk creeping across his face as he eyed the decayed wooden boards and broken stone. He knew exactly whom it used to belong to, even if time had eroded almost all traces of the owners from existence. And the deal he executed here, disguised in his former vessel Ermina, helped to cement his plans for the future. The few trees encircling the estate were the only ones left from the vast forest that had once surrounded it, the area now covered in rolling grasslands. However, the Icon couldn't dwell on what had been or the memories associated with it. More important matters were at hand.

And Lord Taranoch had summoned him for a meeting, alongside the other Icons. There was news regarding the Amulet of Gyasis. News he himself hadn't heard yet. A first for the Icon, as he was quite in the know among his kind. It paid to be well informed.

The more informed you were, the better your plans could be laid and executed in the long run.

Sazak strolled along, his blackened metal armor clacking as he marched across the worn cobblestone path towards the structure that Taranoch had chosen for a temporary headquarters at his behest. As he neared, he noticed that it was audibly much quieter than it normally was. Often, Taranoch had servants and guards moving about. Instead, they simply stood at attention now. Sazak raised an eyebrow, his demonic eyes peering at them through the loose strands of black hair hanging at the corners of his eye sockets.

As he entered the building, formerly a guesthouse for the estate, he glanced about. The guesthouse was made to be just as nice as the estate itself had been inside, with an expansive foyer and nice polished hardwood floors. Of course, the hardwood was far from polished now, and the off red paint that had stained the walls had peeled and cracked a century or two ago. One of the grand staircases leading up to the second floor of the guesthouse had caved in, now simply a pile of broken wood and splinters with a railing standing alone as it ascended to the top. Two other doors nearby had been closed off, boarded up and blocked by furniture long ago, leaving only the entrance to the building and a hallway between the staircases open for travel. In the foyer where they were, a long square table stood. This was a newer piece of furniture, brought by servants to serve as a meeting table. A pair of maps were stretched across it, one of the capital territories of the Abyss, and one of the northern half of the continent of Adonia here in the mortal realm. Flags poked out of spots on both maps, showing who owned what.

Red on the Abyssal map belonged to Taranoch and the Icons. Blue was in the hands of the rebels. Sazak instantly noticed that the realm of Greed was now blue. A major shift in the war for the Abyss, but nothing one needed to worry about in the grand scheme of things. As for the other mortal realm map, the flags marked on it represented the different nations. And they were placed along the fronts of the massive war currently stretching across the continent.

Sazak's eyes moved to the others standing in the foyer, near the table. His fellow Icons, as well as Mazgith and Taranoch himself. Taranoch stood opposite of him, hands pressed onto the table as he gazed down at it. And as Sazak stepped up to the table, the Demon King spoke.

"We have lost the land of Greed to Tariun and her rebellion." he stated lowly, "Reports now indicate that they are intending to push into the neighboring lands, while a chunk of their forces move to take Vainglory."

The other Icons remained silent, though Sazak could tell Keggoth was visibly furious. Her vast collection of wealth and trinkets were in the hands of those unworthy for her to even step on, and her lieutenants had failed in preserving it. After flashing his fellow Icon a smirk, Sazak opted to speak. Since nobody else would.

"Minor hitches in the grand scheme of things, my lord. We shall retake all that has been lost swiftly once things are done here. The rebellion can't withstand the full might of your armies." stated Sazak, folding his arms. "The more important thing is that w--"

"Did I say you could speak, Sazak?"

Sazak went quiet immediately. Taranoch then looked up, his piercing eyes locking onto Sazak's face. Taranoch wasn't happy. Not in the slightest.

"...I've learned that Vegras and Istres have both perished in battle against the group sent by the remaining gods on Grimtham. They now have the Amulet of Gyasis, one of the godly artifacts I asked you to retrieve." stated the Demon King. "You sent two fledgling Icons in your stead, and both were cut down."

Taranoch straightened up. "I ordered you to find the artifacts. You. Instead, you delegated it to your fellow Icons." he continued, "You have failed me yet again."

Sazak remained silent, his arms slowly unfolding and finding themselves hanging at his sides. He, however, was now giving Taranoch a death glare. He knew what was coming next, and it was something Taranoch had threatened him with before this all started.

Taranoch was quiet for a few moments, simply staring back at Sazak, before speaking once more. "Your son, Astraal, will die. And then, you will join him. I'll then choose someone to replace you and the other two Icons." he said, before glancing towards Mazgith. The female demon simply stood silent nearby, watching both Taranoch and Sazak as they spoke. "Mazgith, fetch me the sword and Astraal. We'll do this outside."

"No, we won't. We'll do it right here."

Taranoch's attention snapped back to Sazak, a look of anger quickly washing across his face. Sazak, on the other hand, was smiling.

"You dare to speak th--" spat Taranoch, before Sazak cut him off with a simple statement.

"Yes, I do. Because you're no longer my king."

Suddenly, Taranoch felt his body lock up. What the hell was going on?

He then heard Sazak speak again, a hint of laughter in his voice. "Did you really think I didn't have a back-up plan in the event you tried to have me killed?" said the Icon, as he slowly began to walk around the table. "...Mazgith was in on it too."

He pointed to his neck. "That amulet you wear so that your vessel could contain your power? Mazgith did a few other things to it too. Its why you can't move... or talk." he said, before glancing to Mazgith nearby. "Excellent work by the way, my dearest sister."

Mazgith smiled, and gave a slight bow. "I do try my best, dearest brother." she replied.

And suddenly, the Sword of Velin seemed to manifest into existence next to her. Hovering in the air. It floated across the room, the flattened tip of the blade pointed downward, until it arrived at Sazak's side as he continued on around the table. He reached up and took it by the hilt, the executioner's sword tightly secured in his grip. His smile turned to a grin.

"Now, I believe a bit of regicide is in order." said Sazak, as he examined the blade before looking to the frozen Demon King. "On your knees, Taranoch. Head on the table."

The Demon King's body seemed to move as if being controlled like a puppet, slowly lowering to its knees and placing its head on the table. Neck exposed. Taranoch continued to try and fight, but it was useless. Despite his immense power, able to slay other Demon Kings one on one, he couldn't move. The amulet was preventing everything. What had Mazgith made it from, The Abyssal Titan Trig's corpse?

"I told you long ago, Taranoch. Long before you were King. I told you that if you tried to screw me, I would be the end of you. And here we are." muttered the Icon, eventually arriving next to Taranoch's knelt form. He lifted the sword above his head. "Say hello to Ashwood for me, will you?"

And a moment later, the sword came downward. Cleaving through the flesh on the back of Taranoch's neck, and lopping his head clean off. His body slumped downward, eventually falling over on its side, as his head rolled across the table before falling and dropping to the floor.

The Demon King Taranoch was now dead, and a new one quickly took his place.

"King Taranoch is dead. All hail King Sazak. Long may he reign." stated Mazgith loudly, gazing down at the body of her former king.

The other Icons were speechless, wide-eyed and in total shock at what had just occurred. Sazak had just defied, betrayed, and killed his own king. They hadn't expected things to go this far. Not in the slightest.

Sazak's grin faded, and he soon shifted his attention to the Icons across the table from him. His yellow eyes moved slowly between them, and he lifted the sword up. Allowing the heavy blade to rest on his shoulder. "...Swear your allegiance to me, or you will join him." he muttered, "...And if you recall, I killed a god. I can kill all of you far more easily."

The Icons looked between one another, and soon enough dropped to a knee. Heads deeply bowed. "We swear allegiance to you, Sazak, as our new King. Long may you reign." all said in unison.

"Good. Rise, my Icons." he responded, his smile reappearing. He then glanced to Mazgith as they stood. "Maz, be a dear and fetch Astraal. I wish to name him my new Icon of Vainglory. And let Kellea know that I'm naming her... 'Overlord' of the Abyss. A fitting title for her, don't you think? She'll have complete control of the Abyss until I return." he requested, "As for the seats of Wrath and Pride, we don't have need of them for the time being. Oh, and go kill Dulvon, would you? We have no need for an Icon of Sloth either."

"Yes, my king." she simply said in response, before disappearing into a portal in a flash.

Sazak's attention returned to the Icons next. "You all shall continue to search for the artifacts. Meanwhile, I'll be tending to the war here. I think there's a few things I can do to make things more... lively." he stated, before pointing to Keggoth and Thorgran. "You two, search the mountains of Daristein. That's where they'll likely be looking next."

"We'll search for the other one in Escaria's northeastern territories, my lord." stated Sekath, to which Sagath nodded.

Sazak nodded as well. "Good. Now then, I have a fellow king to visit here in Atraca." he soon stated. And a debt to collect.

 

[Breadman]

The Wraith Camp, Hollowlands

"Soup's on!" Constantine walked in the wraith portion of the camp. The cowboy had been unnaturally happy over the past several days. When Vergas was slain, the skies above crackled with thunder. To many of their camps, it took time to realize what exactly happened, but for the wraiths and other souls tainted by wrath, it was something they could feel in their bones. There was a moment of clarity and the raging storms in their hearts quieted. Many of them were elated when the news finally came through. Now Lisykna's men were distributing some rather fancy trophies among the camps. He had taken a look and noticed that one of the arch-demon claws belonged to a particular brutal one. That one had crushed a lot of bones on his way to the top. He had to do some convincing, but managed to claim the trophy to be used in their camp. No one had picked the bounty for the demon, so any energy to be gained from the shades would be split among those present. Fair is fair in these times. "Make sure to thank the boss-lady now! She did a lot of heavy lifting for ya." He beckoned to the shades to come forward. A cigarette hung loosely from his lip. He barely noticed Colette walk next to him.

"Since when are you so eager to thank the hands that feed?" She was carrying one of the hellhounds in her arms. For some reason after helping one of the mothers give birth she took a liking to one of the little runts. Not smart to form any attachment to things that exist to kill and die, but then again, he wasn't a smart one either.

"Since I became a soldier for freedom in the burning Abyss." He did a mock salute. "Off to see some of your fellow shades off?"

"I am now." She looked to the gathering of shades. People like her that want their revenge on those who wronged them. Enough to be trapped in the Abyss. She never understood why it worked like that, but the gods and demons are always more cruel than rational. She chased those thoughts away. That couldn't be true for all of them. There were demons working with angels now. Even Lozon was putting effort into redemption if his tongue wasn't dripping with lies. "But..." She went back on topic "I wanted to ease other shades into things actually. Connor left the camp to round up new ones."

"Is that so?"

"Yes. The war above has become worse as time goes on. Entire battalions of men wiped out by machines of war. Its horrible!"

"Poor bastards." Constantine muttered as he took a drag from his cigarette "Out of one war into the next." He motioned with his free hand. "Stand back for a second. Nekhi-Svarok-Lozon-Persos!" He chanted in a tongue known to only demons and those who delve in their vile magics. He raised one hand with the index and pinky fingers pointing upwards and thumb poking side-ways to complete the spell. The gathered wraiths that were victims of the archdemon suddenly began to glow. The forms dissolving into ash and leaving glowing mater behind them. Their souls had no place in the Abyss anymore. The essence of their desire for revenge no longer anchored them and now lay there. Constantine handed the paw to one of the remaining shades. "Keep it with the others. That thing is gonna draw more of you." The cowboy knelled down and gathered the essence and formed it into a ball. With a finger he poked at it to take a sliver and like a chef that had just finished preparation of a meal, he tasted it to make sure. "Oh this is good!"

Their attention was drawn to the gates as they heard Connor's boisterous laugh. He had returned and brought with him a sizable group. More than enough to make up for those they just lost. More peculiar was that he was carrying two shades by their coats. Nobody needed a closer look to notice they both wore uniforms. Different ones. One Darstinian, the other Escarian.

"Now you mind telling us why you're carrying these two poor bastards like little kids?"

"Ah, you want a demonstration, Constantine?" Connor grinned and put the two men down. They looked at each other and instantly grabbed each other's necks while screaming obscenities' at each other. Remarkable that the Dastinian was doing that while there was no recognizable feature of his face left. Connor then grabbed them both by the coats again to tear them apart.

"Even in the Abyss they want to kill each other. Is the war so bad." Colette voiced her thoughts. The Escarian soldier looked to her as he recognized the accent. Her eyes met his. "What did they do to you?"

"I charged the fields and was gunned down by this fils de pute."

"Ach du verdammt schweinhund! You sacrificed yourself to keep us busy so the cowards could rain down your artillery at us."

"As if you don't deploy the same tactics at us. Connard!"

"I NO LONGER HAVE A FACE!"

"Alright, both of you shut it!" Constantine ended the bickering. "You're both dead now and your landed your sorry asses in the Abyss as a result. Why? No clue. That's something the old man to figure out."

"And 'figure out' I will." Lozon spooked them both as he had quietly walked behind them. Hard not to do with both of the soldiers yelling at each other. "Set them down Connor." The large wraith complied and released his hold, letting them both drop. The demon was slightly annoyed, but didn't waste time acknowledging it. The soldiers got up on their feet and he began to walk around to examine them and the other shades. The demon stopped at the two again and with a quick motion shoved his arms into their chests. They screamed as he firmly gripped their hearts. He shut his eyes and ignored their pained screams as he 'read' what was within. "I see." He pulled out his hands and let them fall to their knees. "Both of them have the potential to become wraiths. The rest will serve as shades for now."

"Damn, when was the last time a batch had two wraiths?" Constantine lit another cigarette. He didn't seem interested at what Lozon had just done.

"Yours actually. Other one is dead." The cowboy shrugged at the answer. Lozon turned his attention back to the two. "I present you with an offer. Both your rage and lust for revenge can work to your advantage. Becoming fierce entities hunting the wicked of the Abyss and making sure souls reach their destination in the Heavens." The Escarian soldier looked at him with suspicion and resentment while the Darstenian would glare at him featureless. "Or you can spend the remainder of days as a shade hoping and waiting for your day in the sun."

"Not much of a choice is there?" The Escarian answered. "What's the catch?"

"There is none." Lozon gave a curt answer "You will feed on the energy shades give off when their souls ascend. Asking for your loyalty is hardly a secret clause in this pact." He looked between them both "Though in your case, I should put a clause. You can't try to kill each other." They both 'looked' at each other and back to him with confusion "Your target for your revenge is not each other. Killing the other will not grant you what you want. If you really wish to achieve that, I suggest you really think who's to blame."

"I'll save you the trouble. You're both victims of war since you're also its pawns." Constantine interjected "And you want to hit the bastards who started it. Quite the payday if you manage it."

"Too vague and high of a concept I'm afraid." Lozon took initiative back "Too many questions you can ask about the war. Questions that don't really concern us anymore. But your targets are to make their way into the Abyss either way."

"Like he said. There isn't much of a choice." The Darstenian spoke as he resigned to his fate. "Fine, I'll be your servant."

"Merde. I'll be doing the same then."

"A wise decision." A smile formed across Lozon's face. He motioned for them to rise once again and as before he shoved his hands to grip their hearts. "Ezdrala-Voroloz-Lozon-Harobos" Like Constantine earlier he spoke in a demonic tongue. The elder demon next would release his hold of their hearts and leave them standing. The two didn't feel anything at first, but that would change as their hearts would ignite with a hellish flame. "Grit your teeth and repeat after me!" Their benefactor demanded "Pour out the anger and hide it away, less it spill to the blameless and lead them to pain. And with the steel and the rags I will cover the pasts so the innocents be not judged in my name."

The other wraiths looked among themselves as none of them had to utter such an oath before. Yet their two new brothers would repeat every word leading to the fires to die down. Colette instantly knew what this was. The demon lied. There was a catch. The wraiths were bound to strike at the wicked and only them. If they were to harm the innocent the consequences could be dire. He knows how many of them would go on their own afterwards and do who knows what after the war was over. Clever old man. Now he needed to make the others swear the same oath.

"Your names. Give them to me." He demanded again.
"Fritz."
"André."

"Welcome, Fritz and Andre. You are now wraiths!" Lozon placed his hands on their shoulders. Both men could feel the pain from fires leave their body as the gashes sealed up. It took only moments for Fritz's head to burst into flames, yet he would not feel anything. André wouldn't suffer such a fate as the only major difference was his skin becoming ashen and eyes glow with a disturbing light. "The fire now burns within you. I suggest you consult your fellow wraiths on how to best use your newfound skills." He then looked to the shades. "The rest of you will have tasks around the camp distributed to you. I suggest you make yourself useful."

"Come on you two." Connor blustered as he put his massive arms around them "Let me show you how to properly kill." The tree of them moved on to a different part of the camp where they could train in peace.

"Never get used to you doing that." Constantine commented "Poor bastards have no idea what they're getting into. Hey about that..." The demon had already departed, leaving any questions without an answer for now. "Typical. You want one?" He offered a cigarette to Colette.

"I'll pass for now. Besides I have my hands full right now." She pushed the pup in her arms up.

"Right. You name that thing yet?"

"He's small, scrappy and oddly adorable. So I named him Theo."

"Like your husband?"

"Mhm." She petted the small hellhound "I wonder what he's doing now?"