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Post by Narrator on Feb 7, 2008 17:12:42 GMT -6
The men's smiles melt fast as they begin to run and bring the hurt with a quickness as the demons appear to be more hearty than they had first believed. The ice not being as effective as it would have been at the trap set at the other end of the street. Now the advantage fades quickly as they begin to cluster and unfurl a huge net to trap the unholy rubbish.
The men gang up quickly and bum rush the trio with the large fishing net. The main force of the charge is directed at Ereshkigal as she faces the drain to snare her in the net and then beat her about the back to force her down again. The remaining men simply try to keep Lysandor and Ciel from escaping or trying to flank them as they assault the queen. The men move quickly as they begin pummeling the demons through the net with pipes, hammers and other heavy tools.
Pushing hard they surge forward using their ice shoes to clear advantage giving them ground trying to ensnare the demons and beat them down.
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Post by Lysandor on Feb 7, 2008 18:07:17 GMT -6
Lysandor manages to somehow keep his balance as he is surrounded by the humans with a fishing net. Still, he loses ground on the slick ice between the force of the attack and the blows.
He slices through the net with one of the very sharp daggers and grabs a human by his neck, dragging him close and shoving the forearm-length blade into the man's chest, cutting him open like a holiday turkey. He shoves the man away to die and cuts another neat slice in the net, widening the hole even more.
"Pathetic," Lysandor says, his voice colder than the air, as he snatches a pipe away from one of the men and savagely breaks the man's nose with it. "Even if there were ten times your number, it would not be enough to defeat even one of us." The Fallen Elite cuts yet another hole in the net with his dagger; it's almost big enough for one of them to escape. "Your master has sent you to your death."
He demonstrates the truth of this by severing both of the the broken-nosed man's femoral arteries in his thighs.
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Post by Ciel on Feb 7, 2008 23:21:51 GMT -6
Ciel is still shivering when they are caught by the net. She is shivering very much by then, but not enough to cripple her. As the humans come around, trying to hit her, she shadows out from under the net and begins slicing her way through humans.
When her blade was slick with very much human blood, she sheathed it and began feeding on every human that dared try to attack her Queen or Lysandor, snapping necks with very little abandon when she was full. With the ice in her hair and the coat, she looked like an ice demon with flame inside. Her shirt is torn from ice, and she's angry. Very angry. And her human prey will know it.
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Post by Ereshkigal on Feb 8, 2008 6:17:40 GMT -6
Ereshkigal cries out as she's cracked over the head hard enough to daze her for a moment. But she shakes it off and jerks her wings up- ripping the net from the hands of some of the humans and tearing the hole Lysandor had started large enough for him to escape- while blocking most of the blows with a thick padding of feathers.
She twists around as much as she can and slices mortal flesh and net with a look of pure hatred on her face. Where her blade touches flesh, even if the wound it's self isn't fatal, darkness spreads under the skin of the victim. They fall, screaming, as it consumes them.
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Post by Lysandor on Feb 8, 2008 10:17:07 GMT -6
Lysandor slips through the hole he and Ereshkigal tore open and joins Ciel as he continues mowing down the humans like so much grass. Their numbers are more than halved, from ten to four, and another one falls to the ground screaming and trying to keep his insides in. Lysandor grabs a free end of the net and yanks with enough strength to rip it from the grasp of the humans.
"A slow and agonizing death is your fate," he tells the remaining humans, his sterling eyes simmering with barely contained rage. Blood trickles from the corner of his mouth and nose from the beating the humans attempted to administer, and he sports several bruises, but Lysandor ignores these minor injuries. "Pray, mortals, that your master saves your pathetic skins and does not leave you to our mercy . . ."
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Post by Narrator on Feb 8, 2008 14:04:56 GMT -6
The remaining men soon realize why they fear the darkness as their friends lay ripped, sliced and disfigured in the now blood coated icy street. The few left begin to run in fear back to the end of the street where the priest is watching the events unfold. The others that have not died instanly, gurgle and choke on their own red flow and try vainly to crawl away before they die in the freezing street.
The priest begins to walk toward to the demons as he is making the sign of the cross and utters the last rites to his men who have freely given their lives to God. As the others run for him he blesses them and allows them free passage, to escape.
He is silent as he stops 20 paces before the demons in the bloody street, He crouches down to close the eyes of those not able to make it to him for mercy. He murmurs a prayer for each one of the dead men before he looks up to Ereskigal. His eyes now sterling as he has no reason to hide of his true identity.
"As vile as they say aren't we Ereskigal? Your reputation for merciless evil has no bounds... or does it?" He says looking at her inquisitively as an adult to a naughty child.
He stands slowly as he observes her. He studies her face and then her compatriots. "Your problem will not simply go away... Fleeing the pit has only made matters worse... made you less capable to resist as your condition clouds your mind... and there are those... who would say you will be unable to resist the relentless temptations much longer.
It is only a matter of time, short and fleeting... before you are completely consumed by it and channel the void to bring the literal hell on earth. Some say that you must be destroyed before that can be allowed to happen. Sadly, as I wonder how much of that is true, I can't afford to sit idly by and watch the creators work become defiled in such a way. The next logical course, of course, is for me leave you with this message and pray to merciful God that you will heed my warning. For it will be the only one you shall receive. For is he not but brimming over with compassion for those who know not what they do?"
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Post by Ereshkigal on Feb 8, 2008 23:45:55 GMT -6
Ereshkigal looks at the angel and the ignores him in favor of picking the shredded netting off of herself. She motions for Lysandor and Ciel to hold for the moment as she finishes brushing herself off. She's picking the netting out of her wings when she chooses to speak to him, her voice is dry and without rancor.
"And so you send your followers on to their deaths? You use mortals like chess pieces sentencing them knowingly to a terrible doom? For those I slew- there is no redemption. You are not powerful enough. And you're an idiot to boot- walking right up to me like this. Do you really think he cares? Do you think that your almighty creator will step in? I don't." She plucks the last of the netting loose and wiggles it at him with a raised eyebrow.
" He has a plan, angel, are you following it?"
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Post by Ciel on Feb 9, 2008 8:05:10 GMT -6
While Erishkegal talked, Ciel was still shivering violently. She could barely hold herself up as she tripped over to Lysandor. She fell against him and whispered in his ear, "H-hold me..."
The ice in her hair and on her skin was not helping her disposition. Even with the jacket that Lysandor had lent her, she was covered in water and ice, and she was not used to the mortal realm's changing temperatures. Lysandor had definitely been right about that.
She would fight again if she had to, but as of that moment, she was freezing. And she needed some sort of warmth.
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Post by Lysandor on Feb 9, 2008 10:09:02 GMT -6
Lysandor glares at the Angel as he approaches, ignoring the faint chill crawling down his spine. He barely looks away when Ciel falls into him, but he puts an arm around her to try and warm her as best he could, keeping his gaze on the Angel.
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Post by Narrator on Feb 9, 2008 16:34:28 GMT -6
The angel smiles to her shaking his head 'no.' He drops his arm to his side as 5 more angels appear from the light and one that is visually very different from the rest. He is giant in size and is radiating golden light as he appears from nearest doorway behind "Preacher". He stands looking disappointed with the Demons.
"As you can see... I am not alone... These mere mortals do as directed by faith. You are correct in your summation of my power, I simply cannot save them, but it is not for me to do either... It is 'He' who shall judge their actions... not you... nor I... Or have you forgotten how these elementary things work over the last few months in your self imposed 'exile'? Your father was also as clearly misguided and you can see how that tragically ended... very messy. Only by his divine graces has Hell limped on ever since... I have been ordered here by holy Raphiel, just to see just how far you would take your obsessions... You could have rebuked these mortals without spilling a single drop of blood... yet as proven time and time again, as always with your kind... mindless slaughter and maiming of the weak is all you -demons- shall ever amount to. I offer you a way to avoid the same entrapments that blinded Lucifer ... surely you can see the value of what I am about to offer you? If not, then you shall leave us with little choice and condemn you to your fathers fate. If you have not a clue of what I speak, you should prise the father for you have been granted a chance... One chance... to prove you are not a mere puppet of the darkness, if you can truly show mastery, your life may not be forfeit after all... fail and we... will be ordered from above to take affirmative action."
At this 3 of the lower angels take up the bodies of the dead men from the street and begin to walk away into the light.
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Post by Ereshkigal on Feb 9, 2008 22:07:14 GMT -6
"Rebuke? Men who wanted to kill me and mine? Who had no thought in their closed little minds but destroying 'evil'. No... you're right I don't make the choice. But I know what the criteria are.... selflessness, love, compassion... and yes that oh so vaunted faith."
Ereshkigal rolls her eyes skyward to look at the stars as if for patience. But in her mind she frames a question as fragile and faint as a soap bubble.
Can you keep them safe?
And she lets it go into the night with a little sigh that to anyone else would seem exasperated. Then looks puts her hands on her hips and looks at heavenly creatures arrayed in front of her.
"Oh brother... let me guess- you want me to accept salvation. Did you know I can go to heaven if I choose? I can be saved and, oh, wouldn't that be a coup- a daughter of Lucifer serving in heaven." She cocks her head cutely at the angels a smile playing over her lips.
"I'll accept... on one condition." She holds up her left hand one finger raised.
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Post by Narrator on Feb 11, 2008 13:42:11 GMT -6
The angel's eyes narrow at the young Queen's condition request, and he sighs at her. "Salvation is the divine way to ease your suffering. Let 'him' take your burdens and clear away your torments of the darkness that bind you. The offer stands, although you are in no position to be meeting out conditions here Ereskigal, but for the sake of curiosity, I'll hear what it is you have to say... for we are merciful." He stands partly turned to her as the Angels finish the task of removing the bodies.
The three return to the main group and they all begin to encircle the little group of demons. The large one remains behind -Priest- Ready to defend the smaller angel if need be.
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Post by Ereshkigal on Feb 11, 2008 15:21:05 GMT -6
"No position?" she giggles, and it holds the echo of the abyss.
"Very well, angel," her tone makes the term a mocking endearment.
"I'll allow you to remain deluded." She turns towards Ciel and Lysandor- stepping close to the chilled devilcat and wrapping an arm around her. She looks at the angels and her smile is seraphic.
"I will come to heaven when every tortured, every pained, every corrupted, twisted terror of my realm passes through your perfect, pearly gates. That is my condition. All of hell... every... last... demon. Even those who have passed before. When my father's hand beckons me to your realm of light... I will come."
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Post by Narrator on Feb 11, 2008 17:08:25 GMT -6
The look on priest's face is classic disbelief to what he is hearing. He chuckles half heartedly and smiles. "Do you seriously believe the the most vile of creatures would be allowed to step foot through the pearly gates of heaven?"
His face twists to the thought of her words. "Or that Almighty God would allow your father, the defiler of... of all righteousness a full pardon for the only unforgivable sin? Yours nor the souls of the whole of hell is not even remotely near enough to cover his debt!" He is clearly upset over the thought of it all.
"It is clear that you are merely stalling your inevitable fate. If you desire death... I shall grant that desire. Since you deny your only chance at salvation with mockery, So be it." He says with clear contempt in his sterling eyes.
No sooner do these words escape his lips than the 5 angels surrounding the group, draw their swords and rush the demons from all sides in a clear and precise attack as Priest and the giant angel wait and watch the first wave unfold to seal Ereskigal's fate.
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Post by Lysandor on Feb 11, 2008 18:23:28 GMT -6
When the Angels appeared, Lysandor had dropped one of his daggers and drew the sword. He listened without interruption as Ereshkigal and the Angel spoke, keeping his attention on the other Angels, and his vigilance had doubled when they surrounded them. When the Angels attack, Lysandor is ready.
He parries a blow with his dagger from one Angel and evades another, trying to use their momentum to force them off balance and create an opening he can use.
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Post by Ereshkigal on Feb 11, 2008 18:39:39 GMT -6
Ereshkigal moves away from Ciel quickly and towards one of the attacking angels, her coat taking a distinctly misty apppearence at the edges- swirling in on it's self like tendrils of the abyss. The night it's self seems to grow darker and heavier as if the cold air is freezing solid She stalks right up to one of the angels and wraps a delicate hand around his throat- stopping him dead in his tracks.
She looks at the 'Priest' and her face is blank as she holds the angel easily and raises her hand with one finger up.
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Post by Ciel on Feb 12, 2008 19:01:15 GMT -6
Even though Ciel is still covered in ice and shivering, she turns at the same time Erishkegal turns away from her and brings out her dagger she had used previously. It was immaculately clean as though she had thoroughly washed it after the last time she had used it.
She parried and thrusted, tearing through wings and trying to reach even softer parts. She was looking at them as though they were a dangerous dinner that she wanted to eat, but couldn't bring herself to take a bite from.
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Post by Narrator on Feb 13, 2008 0:40:15 GMT -6
The angels attack with no reservation in their minds. As the four from the flanks serge Lysandor and Ciel, their golden blades whistle through the frosty air seeking to bite out demonic flesh.
As Lysandor twists and weaves the Golden blades narrowly carve huge swathes of the space that he had occupied just seconds before. The angels don't recede as Lysandor deflects, parries and dodge the onslaught . Their misses are not yielding as they use the missed stroke to rebound into another and another. They work hard and swift trying to cleave the evasive fallen. A single misstep in his form and the golden blades will find their mark and borough deep into Lysandor's muscle, sinew and bone.
The angels that attack Ciel as also swift as they charge her. Ciel even swifter and more agile also escapes the thirsty blades with all her abilities as her fear makes for an unlikely shield of agility and clarity.
The angel that is in Ereskigals grip is not fairing so well as the others. He struggles as his air has been cut off by the surprisingly strong little Kitsune Pe'ri. He grabs her arm as he tries to pry her fingers loose but can't. He kicks and squirms but he can't free himself from her piercing grasp.
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Post by Lysandor on Feb 13, 2008 8:35:08 GMT -6
Lysandor sees the skill of the Angels and recognizes the danger he's in. Just as their attacks are blocked and parried, so too, are his. Yet, he is just one, while they are two. A misstep on the part of his enemies would be disastorous for them - for him, it would be fatal.
The Fallen Elite then does what would be totally foolhardy and unexpected in one of his skill level and experience. He charges the Angels, allowing his feet to slide under him as he uses the ice in his favor. He slides between the Angels, his sword slashing at their legs. When he makes it behind them, he stabs his dagger in the icy ground, scoring the ice a few inches before coming to a stop. He rises in a very low crouch, striking at the Angel's once last time before holding it in front of him, ready to attack or defend if need be.
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Post by Ereshkigal on Feb 13, 2008 10:35:19 GMT -6
Ereshkigal turns her head in time to see Lysandor's desperate movement and then she looks to Ciel knowing that they cannot win. She snarls and turns part way- so that she can see the battle and still see the priest and his guard.
The move forces the angel she grips to his knees before her. She seems oblivious to the fact that blackness is seeping under his skin like a cancer- slowly at first but faster and faster until he's limp in her grip and the light in his eyes is dying out.
But her eyes are on the fight and the feeling off oppression grows stronger- the streetlights flicker momentarily then go out.
Her whisper is like a thunderclap in darkness.
"Enough."
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