An Interesting Shade of Grey

[TheVampireRecluse]

She pressed herself against a wall as she saw a band of armored angels rush past her, thankful that the clang of their shields and swords drowned out the small clanging of chains around her ankles. Muttering a few unrecognizable words underneath her breath she sank into the shadows, her whole body disappearing and the only way you would of known she was there is if you shined a bright light on the spot. Her cold, silver eyes surveyed the conflict with a sort of mocking glare watching until the last few straggling soldiers were far ahead of her. Rising up from the shadows she felt a certain satisfaction that her magic had gone off with such success. Her long, slender back wings unfurled from her small back as she ran, ready at any moment to soar away if someone came near. Swerving around a corner she stopped in her tracks bacing up so not to run into the huge guard that had just got into her path. The guard looked down on her, his eyes boring into hers:

"Hey who are you?!"he asked her in a loud gruff voice, "Hey where do you think your going?" Just as he had started to ask his question she had taken off in the opposite direction and was followed shortly by the clanging of the guard's huge boots.

'I'll never get rid of him this way," she thought to herself as she rounded the bend of another street corner, her petite body bending as she swerved. Stopping in her tracks she turned to face the guard who suprised that his quarry had just given up the chase. He chuckled to himself,

"Now there's a gud guhl, come on back now.A pretty little lady like yuhself has no need to be on the streets during all this conflict." She smiled sardonically,

"I don't think so." Putting both of her hands together she focused her powers until in both of her hands was a sword made of pure, shining light that everynow and then threw off sparks of power. The guard's eyes widened in awe then suddenly, as if just aware of what was happening, he grasped for his own sword until he found it and held it out in front of him although it looked like any moment the poor man would faint.  

[Renegadius]

Wasting no time, Matthew ordered his Lieutenants to pull their men, and then turned to his superior with rapt attention. "Hollabasters, in the Rive." He brothe, brushing his own silver bangs away from his eyes. Resting his right forearm across the hilt of his longsword, he threw up a fist to his men, ordering them out into the ravine outpost several miles north of the city. As though reacting to the turmoil of heaven's forces, hell had taken no liberties or leniencies.

Hollabasters were among the most wretched of the undead-- barely able to contain, maintain, or retain any humanoid form. Every chunking piece of their flesh sagged and tore away as the damned entities ran, dropping disease and festering cancer upon the land in mounds. The creatures were even less than the skeletal frames of their previous embodiments in life. Jagged bone and flesh seemed to barely hold together as the creatures ran; some upright, others on whatever appendages they had left.

Turning back to his patient, the youth bit off his right glove, a silver halo surrounding his fingertips as he pressed it to the man's forehead, killing the boiling fever. The scratches covering the angel's arms had already entered a blackened, pus-oozing state of festering. Any merciful man would cut off the unfortunate's limbs to save the life, but Matthew merely took a calming breath, exhaled, and then entered the cool trance of his calling.

 

[Renegadius]

Taking the head of his lieutenants, Matthew flicked his silver tresses out of his eyes. Rather than simple threads, each strand of his hair resembled a wintery feather, each rising and falling like silk as he strode forth purposefully. Unbuttoning his trenchcoat, he cast it aside to a waiting servant. With such a fire burning in his eyes, combined with the impressive slim curves of his body in full view for all to see, the right hand of Belial was truly a marvel to look upon, raising the morale of all who beheld him.

About his hips fell a scale-plated half-skirt made to protect his legs. His pants fit snugly about his legs, yet widened to gaping about his ankles, allowing for an extreme amount of mobility. White steel boots ended in a pointed toe, beseeching both weapon and guard. A modern prodigy of white majick, the eternal youth had spared no time training his supple body. Never once of manly muscle, his frame carried an implicitly feminine athleticism.

Reaching up, he pulled his slim white gloves tighter about his wrists, giving the trailing edges a light flick before stopping to unfurl his pure white wings. As though he'd been a mongrel before, the revelation of his wings opened his body as the sun appearing on the black horizon. As much as he hated the show of a procession, Matthew knew that if he always appeared to be at the top of his game and ready to take on hell itself, his men would follow in mind and in body.

As the corner of his lip twitched into a rambunctious grin, he turned to face his men, pure blue eyes sparkling in the sunlight. "Gentlemen," He brothe, his voice even silkier than his flawless mane, "Let's go bag us some Hollabasters." With a deafening cheer from his Lieutenants and the followers alike, he flourished his longsword with an acrobatic grace, twirling the blade from the scabbard at his hip to appear at shoulderlength in a silver blur, held at a perfectly straight horizontal angle. With a great explosion of dust, the Lieutenants leaped away from the earth with powerful wing strokes, taking off like silver bullets towards the Rive, flying far faster than any of them could believe they could fly.

 

[Renegadius]

Swooping in low on the cancerous beings, Matthew's broke out as he easilly twisted his body around the razor claws of a Hollabaster, whipping around to burst the creature and neighbors' skulls with the backs of his heels. Landing on his palms he flared out his wings, sending the wretched beings flying. Losing no momentum, he twirled his entire body, landing on the balls of his feet, longsword clearing its scabbard with a glorious ring that echoed out across the battlefield.

"Il noma del Padre," He recited, hewing the body of an onrushing beast in half, effortlessly spinning on his heel to drive the point of the blade through the skull of another, "Echt Feli," Dropping the point, he hefted his body straight up into the air on his longsword, allowing several of the undead to run themselves through it's virgin edge, falling to molten pieces on the ground, "Del Spirita Santo! Melovry Dia!" He exclaimed.

Like a bubble around his feet, white flames exploded out of the cobbled floor of the outpost, scourging the Hollabasters to burning shreds as even bone was consumed by the holy fire. Taking a still breath, he opened his eyes. Tossing his longsword up into the air, he dropped to his palms, using his right heel to scoop up a rushing beast and hurl it into the windmilling blade. Gliding through the cloud of dust, the silver blade sheathed itself once more at it's master's hip.

 

[Renegadius]

Slamming his palm into a hollabaster's chest cavity, Matthew whirled on the creature, right leg snapping out to shatter the creature's jawline. As muscle ligaments and rotten tendons were torn free and crushed into cranial bone deposits, the wintery-haired angel's greave suddenly exploded through a cloud of dissolving fecal matter. Risking a relaxed look around the field, relief escaped the youth in a sigh as he saw the last of the mob falling beneath his Lieutenants.

With a sniff the prodigy flicked dust off of his clean white gloves, giving the wrists of the articles a light tug before dropping his hands at his hips, resting his right forearm beneath his open white trenchcoat. As his men filed in, snapping smart salutes with their weapons before standing to ease, Matt gave a light grin off of the corner of his lips. "I think there might be hollabasters about..." Receiving several smiles in return, the youth flexed his wings before leaning back against a broken pillar, arms vanishing beneath his loose coat.

 

[Renegadius]

Turning his icey blue eyes towards the woman, a light smile licked at the corner of Matthew's lips. "Don't expend too much on this first wave ma'am," He intoned with an edge of respect, "I appreciate you helping out, but we're going to be here for a while, and there won't be many breaks after this next volley."

Blocking out the sun for a moment, a quadropedal ghoul lurched off of the pillar's tip, giving a silent shriek through rotten lungs as its yellowed claws reaching for the youth's throat in midair. Leaning forward with as much effort as he'd expend picking a blade of grass, the silver-haired male flicked his heel up against the scabbard of his longsword, the ring of steel the only sign that his blade had left its sheath at all.

Slamming into the ground in front of the youth's feet, the Hollabaster's headless body gave an unhealthy crunch, suspended legs falling against the earth moments later as gravity reasserted itself.

Brushing out his wild wintery mane, the youth turned his eyes back onto the woman, easing out a carefree shrug. "If you're looking for accomadation, I can set something up after this coup d'état..."

 

[Renegadius]

Eyes narrowing for a moment, Matthew's lips parted for a moment, but words were cut off as his fair ears pricked up. Whirling, the silver swordsman's blade twirled expertly out of its scabbard, cleaning spilling out through a rabid onrush of twisted undead forms, throwing out a thick wall of powdering decadence into the filthy cobblestone below. Looking past the horde of lifeless spawn, the youth's lips slid together firmly.

"Ghost Riders in the sky!" He called back to his Lieutenants, who immediately fell into rings of threes, hacking and clearing a path towards a nearby guild lodge down the street. Falling in against the woman's back, Matthew pulled off his right glove with his teeth, slamming his bare palm into the skull of a wailing ghoul. Driving his fingers through bone and mushy brain tissues, the young Lord gave a fierce word of command, icey blue eyes flaring white.

With an audible shockwave, the wasted thing in his grasp gave a brief convulsion before rising up on bipedal legs, hooked claws tearing and grasping the undead legioneers that had only moments ago been allies. Flicking his savaged hand with a crimson gout of mist, a final command exploded through the youth's fair lips, bursting the ghoul and all it held into a blinding flare of white fire. Across the battle plain, shrieks of burning agony rose up like thunder as the flames spread like chain lightning, jumping from corpse to corpse until the town was bathed in holy light.

With a tearing cough, Matthew's arm slid up over his mouth as he gave the woman a light push towards the guild hall, sliding his right hand into the recesses of his trenchcoat.

Overhead, seven pale figures pierced through the blackening clouds, white, gnarled flesh covered by wickedly barbed black armor. At their hips, the figures bore flaming green whips which burned with sulphurous exhaust. At each wrist, a hooked, pale blade extended into three seperate claws, each dripping with fresh coats of a cancerous toxin. Each of the seven rode atop hellish mounts, bearing steel, sabre teeth, and curled horns across a clockwork muzzle. A twisted mixture of machinery and flesh, gears ground fitfully within an intestinal cage. The feet of the beasts were webbed in such a way that the Horun could litterally stride through the air.

With eyes that blazed with green tongues of fire, the Death Knights spurred their twisted mounts towards the guild hall, phosphoric lightning crackling out across the black sky in their wake.

((I'm not sure how it would be incorrect, although perhaps you could elaborate on her relationship to Matthew?))
sweatdrop

 

[Renegadius]

'Wonderful,' The youth sighed, not failing to notice the beads of power flicking away and around his unlikely ally. Steeling himself against the aura of soul crushing fear the mounted Necromancers exuded, Matthew snapped his arms out, and then tucked them back together, palm locked to palm against his chest as he cast a quick proximity healing spell. Slowly at first, but then accelerating, the flesh that had begun to fall away from his right hand reknit itself, sloughing away the cancerous slivers of bone and rotten tissues that remained.

Leaning forward, Matthew exploded away from the carnal cement underfoot, hurtling through the air until he found the woman's side. Planting his shoulder low to the woman's waist, the young Lord threw his weight towards the open gates of the guild house. 'This is no time for heroics,' He growled to himself, twisting in midair to snap open his perfectly white wings, each silken, snowy feather catching the air currents carefully, knitting together into a structure that would cut their fall into a gentle glide.

Striking the ground with force enough to send stone splintering and dust rising in grand clouds about their taloned feet, the Horun crushed cobbles beneath their feet as they tore across the avenue, leaping over any miniscule obstacle that dared cross their path. Atop the backs of the great beasts, the Death Squadron planted a left hand atop the malformed humps atop their mounts' backs, right arm snapping out to exude yet another foot of poisoned steel, which immediately burst into dry green flame. Death Squadron not only by race, each of the Necromancers moved with disciplined synchronization, finding their balance within four of their beasts' strides to unleash a left arm blade, flaring with a similar green phosphorous.