The Dead Forest (Increased Orc activity due to skirmish)

[Uberwulf X]

Quote:

being "exorcised" would probably be a welcome sight to the orcs.

The monk/ghost had no idea.

The sound of Chen's chanting got louder as he quickly got nearer, and it drew the orcs' attention. When the specter began to flail and wail, their attention was back on it. Even with Zaar in tow, a couple managed to step forward and watch on in amazement.

Then, in a flash, the ghost was gone. There was a murmur, before it was decided that right now, the best thing to do would be to head to camp and make sure everything was in place for their exit. It's what the orcs did, though it would be noted that they didn't seem in so much a rush. They didn't need to, with someone on their side proven able to banish them. Besides, it was only the one, so things should be okay. They weren't dragging their feet, but the orcs weren't falling over each other to get away, either.

Rohan was outside, waiting. Aware that Zaar had been knocked out, he was ready to help load their leader into the vehicle. He was also likely the reason the horses hadn't spooked at the considerably bright flash and all the ethereal screaming.

"Why take so long to act?!"

The question asked by one of the orcs (who else?) was born of frustration, but lacked the amount of malice indicating that the question was about to be punctuated with a punch to the face.  

[Chen Ning]

"Because exorcism takes time," he responded.

And if the orc did decide to throw a good square one into Chen's face, the cop would take it, but not without last second reflexes having him lean his head back to go with the motion. It wouldn't stop him from being struck to the ground, but it lessened the damage to some degree. Great, a struck nose and a wound to the right shoulder. His day was going pretty well for him, yep. Then he would just stand back up, holding his face, and moving to the side to let them by.  

[Eternal Dirge]

Damion watched as the stones flew to either side of him, his eyes widening until his face was the picture of incredulity, jaw dropping open to add to the image. " What....in the world...." Thumps of wet flesh impacting the hard ground were loud to his ears, and he stared at the corpse of the big man who, until then, had been giving him so much trouble. In death it hardly seemed so threatening, just another corpse, decaying matter for the worms, real ones, to feast on.

the arrival of the wifes body caused the elemental to jump abit, jerking back before he realised what it was. In life she might have been as graceful as a bird, but fallin as she was, she looked almost sad. Limbs stuck at odd angles where they had broken, almost like extra joints, and the palor of her flesh nearly brought on a wave of sadness before he doused it.

There was no point in feeling sympathy for these wasted creatures, and Maximos was calling him on after all. " Show off...." Damion gunted, before taking off after his boss, pushing his muscles on past what he thought himself capable of with little effort. it had been a long day and it seemed the next one was on its' way.  

[Maximos]

Strangely enough, what Damion would find was that as the seconds past, the stronger he seemed to get. As opposed to having his muscles tire and lax they seemed to be becoming stronger and more excited. It was the sort of buzz one feels in the back of their mind after recovering from an intense work out when they're just itching to see how much they've grown. And it was all linked to the sky which was very steadily progressing from pitch black to dark navy blue.

And then, as if triggered by that realization, a memory would play in Damion's mind. Perhaps a last ditch effort from an all too busy Dagon. He would hear Maximos' emotionless voice as it faintly said...

I can see it. The spirit within you is able to keep the worms from exerting magical control...for now. But as the night progresses their power will grow. By sunrise, they will awaken and consume you...

And then he would see flashes of Ivan, of the Chef, of the two who had just fallen beside him.

...As they have consumed them. And the spirit will be powerless to save you.

And then Damion remember that the lightening sky was not just the signal that night was ending, it was the signal that he was ending as well. Suddenly, the new strength filling his body might make a new sort of horrible sense. As if sensing his mental state, Maximos' voice called back from several steps ahead.

"Come on! Even if you dont make it, wouldnt you rather die fighting?" And without another word Max was off, hopefully with Damion in toe. The higher the stares went, the more ornate they became. They transformed from simple stone carves to intricately designed rectangular statues depicting various encounters with giant worms and warriors and armies. Very soon, the Reaper and the Elemental were up so high they could see over the now vacant town and its empty houses. They could see the villagers clamoring up the stairs at half the speed of the more fit men. And far on the horizon, Damion, more than Maximos would be able to see a point in the distance where the sky moved from navy blue, to a sort of periwinkle as the sun threatened to pierce the darkness.

Finally, the stairs evened off leaving both men standing at the decoratively carved mouth of a cave. Inside was Nikolai standing beside an enormous red jewel shaped like a tear drop, but easily as tall as a house. It was perfect but for a single hole in it about the size of a baseball. Nikolai was already unwrapping the enchanted box Maximos had given Damion to deliver. A black circle the size and shape of the hole exactly fell into his hands.

"Your too late! The Wormsoul has passed through the barrier thanks to your lovely enchantment! You've already lost!"

Maximos' hand lashed out as if slashing at an invisible enemy. Nikolai's shadow snaked out from underneath him, swirling around his leg and up his arm stealing the jewel and lifting the orb high out Nikolai's reach.

In a black blur, Maximos rushed in, twirling his scythe into a strike position. And it was about then Damion might realize that since he had entered the cavern...he hadnt moved. He might only realize it now, because Maximos had suddenly stopped and leaped backwards. Damion...although he had never given the command, had his feet slammed into the earth and his left and right arm thrust forward.

Quote:

Break the line: Both of Damions feet must be on the ground for this move to work at all. his right or left arm thrusts forward, sending a shaft of stone the width of a car forward at a 50 degree angle from the ground, in a direction of his choosing

The shaft of stone came to a stop inches in front of the Reaper as he landed.
"Damion, what are you doing!?" He snapped.
"Your friend has eaten the flesh and blood of Ysmidon." And Damion had, hadnt he? He may not have wanted to, he may have wanted to fight with all of his strength but as Nikolai's wand shone a brilliant crimson all that want melted away like so much water off a ducks back. Damion wanted this. He wanted to fight. The name "Maximos" lost all of its meaning save for the fact that it was someone it seemed he had lived until this day to destroy. The Dagon's voice fell silent. And then Nikolai very calmly, very securely said. "He is mine."

"Damion...you can fight this. The ritual is not complete." But Maximos' voice was a dull echo down a very long and inconsequential hallway.
"Kill him my child." And Damion's body was moving before he could even think to do otherwise. He was rushing, with nothing but a bloody outcome filling his mind.

-|-
-
|Final Boss|
.Maximos Lucillien Dark.

Maximos' face hardened into an emotionless mask befitting his office. Shadow marred all of his face above his nose save for the burning white glow of his right eye. His words were proper but carried no sentiment to them, a note left behind to soothe the conscience when this moment was replayed later.

"I am very sorry."

 

[Eternal Dirge]

What did it matter what Damion thought really? His suprise was momentary, there one second and gone in a blink to be replaced by the zealous rage of a man who beleives, with all his heart, that the object of his devotion is being attacked. Energy flushed through his body and into the earth to eject the stone at his 'employer'. He couldn't allow, no, wouldn't allow such a travesty to happen! The worm lord must be brought fourth!

" Away!"

He roared, ignoring Maximos's attempt at communication, ignoring his friends words completely, two stone swords dropping from the ceiling to his outstretched hands, the short swords identical to his lost gladius's. No words were needed anymore, his course was clear. With a quick instep, Damion entered the Shadow warriors scythe range, his right foot leading in, right arm extended with the blade aiming for Maximos's chest. The antifreeze green eyes of the posessed warrior were focused on the other mans chest, his muscles bulging as they prepared to make contact, but the strike was far faster than it should have been.

Energy flooded his body, straining muscles no longer straining and the pains of the day gone. Had he been aware of it, he'd have said he was better than ever. But already a plan was forming in a mind that held no place for plans, instincts kept in tight reign as they prepared for action, prepared for pain.  

[Maximos]

No. NO. NO!

This was all wrong. This was wrong in every conceivable. Maximos was the man, Uriel was the title and that was the way it always would be. Maximos was a man of faith, just as much as he was a man of faithlessness. There were not many things in this world that he did truly believe in, but his duty as a Reaper was one of them. It was a grim work. It was hated work. But he truly believed that it was necessary...but this?

Damion, at the moment, was the thoughtless and driven servant of the Worm King. But Damion, at this moment, was also not. Damion did not choose this path. Damion did not find this village via the hapless methods of fate, Damion was sent here. And sent, by the very Reaper who now poised to slay him. So Damion was meant to be sent here just to die? For naught? Where was the justice in that?

"No..." The scythe felt heavy in the Reaper's hands, it was a symbol of station. But it was a symbol Maximos could not believe in. And so the scythe fell to the wayside. It did not clang to ground but simply dissolved into black specks and vanished as if it never were. Damion was upon him now, he could see the infection crawling its way through the other man's system like worms in soil. There had to be another way, simply taking Damion's blows would get him no where. But lashing back with a vicious onslaught would arguably be more brutal and criminal that simply ending the man in a scythe swipe.

A crease formed across his unseen brow. There was another way, there had to be another way. One brilliant white eye met Damion's jade, never faltering, and like a man driven Damion plunged his blade forward. Maximos' feet were already in motion. His left foot led, bringing him forward as he pivoted at the hips so that he stood outside of Damion's striking arm, crackle of violet essence swirled down his left hand pooling in his palm before spreading out across his knuckles and back. Then in a blur of black his arms snapped into motion. His right arm moved first, to not shove as much as slide Damion's striking arm away, his left followed through next aiming an back of the palm strike at the elemental's exposed midsection.

Maximos smirked, he chuckled. All of a sudden it was as if his demeanor moved from serious, to light. As if suddenly, this confrontation was minute.

This strike was fast, very fast, but only because it lacked the majority of the force it needed to do any sort of damage to the demon possessed man. This was less an impact, and more a shove. It lacked the determination of a strike, and yet left itself open to become an open palm defense. And the moment, the left hand struck...be it body, or blade, something else would happen.

It had been called many things, the Black Crescendo, the Shadow Cannon, but in the end it was little more than a Shadow Punch. An impact chasing a swing that belied its nature. His palm connecting may have been gentle, but the resulting pop was a bit harsher. About as harsh as a double handed shove to the impact area. A similar set of sparks danced across Maximos' right arm, but there was as of yet no impact. This "attack" was only meant to push Damion back, or at the very least offset his balance. It was not the greatest of attacks, but it would serve his purpose. A purpose continued as Maximos' smirking face said...expectantly while dealing with the fights continuance...

"No, I dont think so. Your going to have to try harder if you plan to be worth your worms boy." Boy?! No where in there time together had Maximos ever called Damion a boy. And his tone was downright condescending! This wasnt the way the Shadow acted at all! But...worms couldnt really know that could they? And then, in the face of such an insulting affront, how would an over zealous man filled with righteous rage react?

With more rage of course! Or at least thats what the worms seemed to feel. Damion's reaction was not puppeteered persay, but his body seemed to have some opinion of the words all its own. His pulse began to quicken, and adrenaline slithered through his veins as if attempting to drive him harder. Words raced in his mind from a thousand tiny voices that seemed to echo from no where and everywhere together. Kill him. Tear him! Shred him! Make him bleed! We will nestle in his corpse and feed off of his death!  

[Eternal Dirge]

Except, Damion had two swords didn't he? As fast as Maximos was, he had put himself in the position Damion wanted, close enough to stab. Hell he had even let go of his weapon! Maximos would find Damion's arm most willing to move, swirling about in a short half circle, giving himself room to snap his wrist back around, pointing the blade inwards as his left arm snapped forward, the blade high. He could almost guess what his opponent was going to throw, it was almost a classic boxing stance.

A right to throw the punch away, and a left to to face or chest, textbook infact. After the first left to put the opponent off foot, you'd carry on through with devastating punchs. But as it was said, Damion could see this. His body was slower than Maximos's though, not designed to be fast, not even to be resilient. Just strong, and his strength gave him speed, his chambered left blade darting forward, aiming for that leading left bicep as his right rechambered across his hip, providing a kind of shield for his ribs and letting his bicep cushion any punches.

The significance of the crackling energy was lost on Damion though, but he was more than willing to take the punch if it meant hitting Maximos in the bargain. The shadow warriors left would impact, rocking him back and skewing his aim off to the left. The point of the stone gladius strayed from its' target. And then Maximos was talking, insulting, making him even angrier, though he didn't need to. For the most part, Damion couldn't even begin to understand the words, but the sheer fact that his opponent could afford to talk was enough fuel to light up those fires to greater heights.

His bloodshot eyes rocketed around the shadow mans body as his right unchambered again, cutting out horizontally infront of him, level with Maximos's hip. His left arm simply swirled back out to the left, following a half circle before coming back in. Each strike was accompanied by a small growl, a half word, the beginnings of a curse before it was killed off. The cave, to his ears, was filled with his own sounds and the pounding of blood.  

[Maximos]

"Thats it?"

The worlds were issued forth as if they, and they alone were the only thing holding back a full on stream of laughter. But in truth, Damion had taken first blood. Maximos' smack, as stated knocked the slash from the elemental's left blade off course. Instead of full on impaling his bicep it sliced outside of it, past it, leaving a line instead of puncture. The line would soon begin to pucker with red.

"Pathetic carrion creatures. You'll never be anything more than waste mongers, trampled under foot." It was true, entirely true, Maximos' moves were telegraphed, and yet here is where he broke rhythm. Here was where it was customer to come in with a devastating smash of an attack, and yet Maximos did no such thing. He was busy talking smack. For seemingly, effective reason. His right arm did not swing for Damion, instead, Maximos did something all together unexpected. He took a stern, and fast step backwards.

Left foot first, and then in an a sort of dance-like glide his right foot slid behind his left. And Damion would feel the world move beneath him. This move had no name, amongst the shadow's techniques it was the simplest and one of his first. While standing within close proximity to an individual, Maximos calls upon their shadow. The shadow moves silently against or with the light toward Maximos' foot. And then with a quick motion, such stepping back and whipping ones foot away, the shadow which was now beneath said person was made tangible and jerked out from beneath them with a foot motion, like a carpet pulled out from beneath an individual standing on it. To which Maximos added.

"Crawl, you overgrown maggots. You have no, idea what your dealing with." And Maximos' arms moved up in front of him in a defensive position, both palms wide open and crackling, his left hand over his right. His stance was loose, but tense, ready to snap into motion at any second. It was an alert pose that would have belied his mocking, light-hearted tone if the creatures opposing him were so able to make such connections.

At the moment, for Damion, things were becoming quite difficult. Damion's personality was being used as a masque of sorts. It was a face covering a body that was ultimately out of his control. Damion had no need for rage, he would have propelled himself forward with all viciousness anyway. But, there it was, and it was growing. His pulse was quickening, maggots churned in his flesh like a colony of angry ants. He would be able to feel the harsh words sting, even though they did not sting him. Even though they did not effect him, even though he was being slowly but surely lost.

And then something new was added to the equation. As Maximos moved backwards, performing his little carpet trick a scent filled the air. Here to for, every word, every sensation Damion's body received was filtered through the worms perception first before it reached him...but not this. The worms had Damion's mind busy concert hall of a mess, too many voices cried out for blood and vengeance and in return insult. Too many small commands to be all heeded, it was like a fog and yet a fog that lead him further into the fight.

And then there was this. This scent cut through the fog like an arrow. It cut through all the voices and over anger, and through the elemental. Deep inside Damion something stirred, something older and larger, something bigger than the voices, bigger than even Damion himself and yet as it stood too far away to do anything more than rumble. Something that came from a single vagrant scent...blood. Fresh blood.

And we all know what happens when blood hits the shark filled water.

Maximos spoke lightly. He spoke just above his breath, just so much that one would have to strain to here it over the din of battle and the rush of their own heart. He said. "Just one more push..."  

[Eternal Dirge]

More words, words upon words, an entire avalanche of words, and all of it falling of more or less deaf ears. Damion's fury was like a red cloud over his eyes, darkening with each moment that Maximos still stood and churning inside him in a way that the worms could only mimic. First blood might have been his, but now he was in no better a position than before, feet coming out from under him as the other man gave a yank on his shadow, an impossible pull that didn't seem so impossible anymore. Like a child first experiencing ice, his feet would fly into the air and he'd hit the ground on his back.

For a moment, he just lay there, the anger that coursed through his veins and made the world alive in red paralyzing him in place. As he began to rise though he caught it, a hint of something, a taste on the tip of his tongue that teased and taunted him. The glassy sheen of the world began to crack, hairline fissures through which Damion sought to assert control, hand holds for his mind to cling to.

But ultimately the worms controlled this body, millions of puppeteers pulling the strings that made him stand, made him growl, and made him resume the attack. His two swords would fuse and become one long one, gripped in both hands and slashed low for Maximos's legs. Damion was a curious sort, good with about any weapon he put his hand too, and they pulled that knowledge to the fore, using a eclectic style in the hopes of forcing the Reaper back.

Damion's anti-freeze green eyes glowed in the low light, his veins seeming to pulse with a sickly green energy as he fought, or tried to fight, and it made him something of a clearer target. Not that his opponent needed it, but still.  

[Maximos]

"You do have no idea the forces at work here." Nikolai, bound by shadow, contorted his face in an infuriated masque. The aged wrinkles covering his milky skin seemed to triple in amount, and the staff held at his side adorned with its glorious scarlet apple and twisted green worm emblem was blazing so very bright it stung the eyes to even look toward it. The worms rages, and stormed and blazed in Damion's mind like a fire, a raging blazing inferno that replaced each and every thought he may or may not have wanted to have with unbearable agony. His body smoldered from head to toe in a pain rivaled only the moment in which the Dagon had been forced into his system.

"Your entirely out of your league." Damion fell. His swords fused. There was a faint snapping sound. And then he swung. Two swords met. Maximos' sword stabbed downwards, and Damion's sword mid arc. The sound of blades meeting run out and echoed across the cave...and thats when it happened. Deep inside Damion something moved, something older and larger, something bigger than the voices, bigger than even Damion himself. It was too far away, moments ago, distant and lethargic. But at that sound...it snapped into life. This sensation, as of yet indescribably roared to life and suddenly...the burning stopped. The voices stopped. Everything, even time, seemed to stop and for an eternity Damion would soak in that sound...as if it were the sweetest melody in all the world. A song that could sing him to sleep at night. It was likely, the single most pleasurable moment in all of Damion's life. Two swords had met. And then, the sensation spread.

Not only had two swords met in sound, but they had met in force. The force reverberated through his arm like only the most beautiful woman's soft touch. The strain of his swing spread across his chest and shoulders, a bliss. The impact of his back against the stone no longer hurt, not as most view hurt. It was painful, but all and any negative connotation in that pain was immediately subtracted.

Damion was freed from the worms by something purer than any control or magic. By something untainted, and incorruptible that only a select few on this world had a connection with. Not demons. Not stone.

"There was something in that boy, far more than anything I could conjure." Maximos was smirking. Nikolai's face fell blank and even more pale than previously, his grip on his staff quivered and the man...a learned scribe in the magical arts...suddenly understand. As if the words were his final breaths he weakly said. "He's...a..."

That pain was a good thing...the strain was a good thing, the sound...and finally the scent of blood. As delicious as any meal. These things mattered more than anything else in the entire world. But why? His mind was free to ask, it was free to wonder. The answer did not come to him, only because he already knew. Maximos, only served to give a name to the sensation. Without missing a beat, finished Nikolai's sentence. "A...

Quote:

Beast of Battle: First to stand, last to fall. Combat pulses in their veins as surely as blood does. It is a part of them, as much as their mother and father. These chosen few are fueled by war like no other. They may live a life like any other, seemingly happy, believedly content, but come the call of blade and blood only then does the world take on all of its true colors. Every scent, every sound, every motion more vibrant than ever before. This marking does not earn a man or woman skill or style or even power, it earns them a drive and a purpose unlike any other, the pursuit of which inevitably leading to mastery of countless combat forms. Past injury, and at whatever costs. Every form a flavor with which to dine on the war eternal.

What Nikolai had suddenly realized was that all his worms had done was remove Damion from the equation and let his instincts free. Human inhibition and reasoning stood in the Beast's path. Nikolai had removed it, and now it stepped forward. Not taking Damion, not overcoming, and not stealing him...but awakening him, joining him. This was a pleasure, not an addiction. He could follow the call of his blood or deny it, but at this moment...at this first taste. His blood would call for the very next attack, for the very next step in the battle like empty lungs call for air. Fight. Fight. Fight. A joyous chorus in his mind. Tooth? Claw? Sword? Dagger? Fist? Hammer? Stone? It did not matter. A sort of natural understanding came with every one of them.

Maximos' hands moved away from his sword and were held out openly to either side. His eyes met Damion's straight forward offering the elemental implicit trust. His eyes absolutely fearless.

Damion's body could again move and attack on its own, subverting the worms and giving in to the din of battle. Of combat. Of war. And it was in that most base, more raw of urges that Damion would once again find himself, and freedom. Though in its first awakening moments this freedom was raw and primal. He would find what it truly meant to be a beast. But, could he find control?

Shadow unspooled from the aged sorcerer Nikolai, as he watched his worms being burned out of the stone demon's form. He held his orb in uncertainty. He was afraid and the air wreaked with it. And Uriel, very calmly, very easily offered a direction to point the sudden rush towards. He said, "Kill him."  

[Eternal Dirge]

It was like the worlds largest bell being rung, the most powerful noise Damion had ever known in his life. More moving than any love song, more inspiring than a patriots speach, more inviting than the moan of a lover. It shook the bones of his chest and threatened to burst the heart in his chest, all of this and arguably more. Suddenly the impact of sword on sword was given entirely new meaning to the elemental. Even the burning of the worms was like the relaxing touch of a massuse.

And then suddenly it all stopped and he was left with that perfect moment, wallowing in it the way a dog will wallow in a smell. Had he been capable he would have cried out with that sudden pleasure. The ache in his arm was pleasure, the unconcious knowledge of a well thrown strike and a perfect block. The pain that spread brought knowledge of his opponents strength and even that was a joyous event worthy of celebration. In those moments the young man felt more alive than ever before, his sense on fire.

Damion's head turned at the noise, still frozen in his position, blade still extended outwards on hands as solid as the rock he warped. The name did have a particular resonance within him, it felt proper, it felt right, like finding the name to a book he'd long given up searching for. " Battle....Blood?" It was all he could manage, even those simple words seeming like more strain than any fight. Adrenline still thundered through his veins, and the longer he waited, the longer he stood still, the more that same red fury threatened to overtake him, his lips twitching into a snarl. Inactivity on the field of battle made you a target, and he was not about to fall in this thrice damned cave.

But then the only real opponent he could see was moving his sword away, leaving him open for a strike, offering himself like a sacrifice on the altar. And his own sword was moving, arcing back for a second strike instinctively. Only now did that arm shake, only now did there seem to be any hesitation. A war was going on that Damion was going to win if it killed him. No Berserker, no Barbarian, not he. He would not strike his friend.

"Kill Him."

And then it occured to all senses that a second smell permeated the air, a sickly corruptive scent that screamed to be removed. It was insulting, an abomination, this fearful smell must go! And with a second roar he would grind around, spinning to face the sorcerer. The fear that radiated off him called for the sword and Damion did not even have to pause, rushing in low to the ground, his longsword angled back over his right arm, gripped tightly in both hands.

Nothing could stop him now, no obstacle too great, and he'd display that by ripping the sword in a brutal arc straight through the ground. Stone parted before stone like water and the blade came out between the sorcerers legs, aiming to bisect the man from groin up. The stone sword was not possessing of the straight edge that most swords had, but the somewhat serrated edge of obsidian. This would not be a easy cut on either parties, but Damion was well within the abilities to pull it off.  

[Maximos]

At first it sounded a bit like paper tearing. Thousands of sheets at once, but then there was something of a wet crunching sound to go along with it. The crunch was immediately followed by soft meaty sounds, soaked globs of viscera splatting to the cavern floor. Nikolai's robes were soaked in red and green, and around him a pile of red was quickly widening, but he did not scream.

And then in an unexpected spasm the orb fell from his hands, and shattered like glass on the stone floor. A single bursting roar shook the cave to its very foundations.

And as the outcry faded, it faded almost musically into the blood curdling sound of Nikolai screaming. Anyone watching could see the jagged point halfway up his body where his robes were beginning to stretch horizontally open. You could smell the putrid stink of fresh human waste spilling to the ground along with worms. So many worms. Worms as large as snakes that slithered out from under the skirt of his robe and soon began to crackle and peel like dry skin and die.

"F-f-f-faaahh--"
"Father." Maximos added helpfully.
"wh---whyaahaaaaAH-krgk!"
"Why have you forsaken me?"

The blade had been fighting with his sternum and now, accompanied by several dry pops tore its way straight upwards. Nikolai's voice was cut off mid scream as the organs that provide a scream suddenly found themselves being held by nothing but torn cartilage, and fell equally wet to the floor.

The stone cutter finished its brutal job, Nikolai fell left, Nikolai fell right. And in the middle remained the messy pile of his middles. The Worm King, would stay forever silenced. Damion would feel a hand pat his shoulder. "Nicely done Damion. Tell me, how does it feel?"  

[Eternal Dirge]

It was divine. The impact rattled up his arm as Nikolai's soft flesh gave way beneath the stone sword, the jagged edges cutting into flesh just as well as any steel blade. The splattering noise...was not what he expected though, more of an impact sound was desired before all was drowned out in the roar and Nikolai's subsequent death scream were much more pleasant, a smile creeping onto Damion's face he watched as the worms squirmed across the ground, taking care to step back when one got to close to his foot, and smiled all the wider when they died. It was pleasing to know he was no long under their yoke.

His muscles began to strain again as Nikolai began to speak, shoving upwards slowly, inexorably heading towards the ceiling before ripping free in a welter of blood. He stood in pose for several seconds until the priests innards rushed to fill the void and subsequently splattered onto the ground, the dull thuds of body halves signifying something of an end to it all. A fitting sound, thought Damion as he let the blade drop to the floor, standing up a little straighter.

"Nicely done Damion. Tell me, how does it feel?"

The sudden pat on his shoulder almost made him jump, Damion had infact forgotten that anyone else was there despite Maximos's shortlived conversation with the priest. " Feel? It feels.....good to not be under their control?" It was hard to describe how he felt really, it was almost as if something inside of him had been lit up with a spotlight and was only now becoming clear. He did know however that he was hungery, but that was likely not what his friend meant.  

[Maximos]

"Feel? It feels.....good to not be under their control?" Max paused, looking at Damion a few seconds longer than average and then said.

"Good, very good." And let out a small sigh. He should have imagined there would be no way for him to understand. Max had a unique view of the world given by birthright as well, but this...he had only heard of, never seen. In a far distant part of his mind he hoped it wouldnt mean that Damion would start picking random fight with his clients to test their new toys, that could be bad for business.

"Anyhow..." His hand slid off the other man's shoulder, "One more bit to take care of here and then we're all done." Maximos' hands rose up in front of him, they grasped at the empty air one higher than the other as if holding on to some sort of invisible bar. The Reaper took a step toward the enormous red crystal and suddenly, there his scythe was in his hands as if it had never left. No warble, no sparkle, no flashing lights, it simply was where a moment ago it was not.

Then, in a single fluid movement the scythe crossed the crystal, and crossed it again, and crossed it a third and finally a forth time, slice from for different angles. And yet the gem seemed utterly unharmed. Uriel turned on his heels to face the elemental before him and cheerfully said. "All done. Shall we get some breakfast? I for one, am starving."