OoC: Unfortunately, this is all of our fight I have saved. We will be continueing this from where we left off. Post what you have, please Ace.
So I'll live in this illusion, I will choose to believe. Believe that I am a whole, believe that I am myself. Yet I find myself afraid to see...
It was not simply something to disregard, an unforgivable act that could never be mended, only be repressed; but that repression could not stop the festering hatred and emotions boiling within the subconcious mind. She couldn't hide it from herself forever, Blaze wouldn't let her.
Maybe this confrontation would bring her closer to the truth; everytime she released a part of her true self, it would bring her dangerously close to the truth or dangerously close to destruction. Or maybe this confrontation would drive her mad and she'd finally put an end to this misery that she described as existence. All of these things depended on the clash ahead... just like every fight she'd ever partaken in, yet for some reason this one seemed different. This one seemed to be weighted, if not by her own will, then by fate itself.
She paced, back and forth... cradling her chest and gritting her teeth, without minding anything about her. She could hear the footsteps echoing within her mind. The mere motions comforted her, she was dreading the battle afoot.
Was it this place? Could it be this uprising that rendered her so anxious? The end always referred back to the beginning... and this for her, was the beginning of everything. Or so she believed. To her, this was her birth place... or at least the first day she remembered.
That night, many many years ago, the ground erupted; vast amounts of rock jutted out of the earth's crust, thousands of feet high; creating jagged mountains overlapping one another in opposing directions. This phenomina was her first memory, waking up alone in the center of this newly created formation. Battered and unable to move, the earth carried on it's massive shift without heeding her rasped yells and cries. This g-od forsaken land defied all logic, the base coming to a point where it is swallowed by the crust but the top stretching outwards to an extreme like a blossom erupting from the sun scathed earth, But when he found her... everything was okay. But even to the day of his untimely death, Blaze never once spoke of that place or what had happened before he had found her on that day.
She couldn't help but question if he was hiding something, but alas it was too late for her to ask. The only clues left for her, was this cursed wing and the voice she could always hear speaking to her in the depths of her mind, singing to her in that hallowed voice.
And then she felt it, that chill... they'd come. They were here. Confrontation was upon her. Taking a deep final breath, a strong updraft caught her; wind blowing her hair and clothing wildly as her wing flexed. Stepping down from the pinacle of the cliff, she lowered her head and waited thoughtlessly for her opponent to arrive.
OoC: This was right after the Shinryu Renken attack of yours. I remember what had happened pretty well I think. I can't believe I wasn't saving this battle. Especially since I specifically remember thinking, "Hey, I should really save this."
IC:
Dark crimson blood ran its way from the man's mouth, a line rolling down his invisible chin and streaming out of the darkness of his hood. The dark black cloth that comprised the cloak and his battle garments was wetted by the gruesome scarlet liquid; his cognizance was whetted by the taste of blood. His teeth gritted, the man rolled to his side and found his feet with expedience, addressing his opponent in just seconds since her attack.
Almost completely oblivious to any pain or injury, seemingly even less so because of his dark mystique, the figure in black leaped nimbly off of his booted left foot, soaring across the small divide separating Serra and himself. His presence at that moment was indominable, his strength and agility emanating palpably amid the crisp mountain air.
Spirit Surge
Truly now this man resembled a demon in both demeanor and stature, his burly six foot frame gliding through the air, cloak outstretched and giving him wings the span of his lengthy arms. He lingered in the air for what seemed like minutes, a daunting figure, looming and ominous, before he unleashed an attack.
Like a hawk swooping down with its talons, the phantom curled his wings in and hunched his body mid-air. He was grave and focused, harnessing as much on his spirtual energy as possible. Muscles flexed and mind meditating, he began to call upon the unused energy pent up within the sinew and his infinite mental capacity. A dark aura encompassed the man, suspended in air and time, energy pulsing from his heart around and through his body, like blood collecting useless gas from cells, and returning it to his chest. This was the heaviest breath of any such kind ever exhaled.
Serra was dazed.
The villian smirked knowingly. Unseen his countenance lit up with a joy of control, a power felt within that gives an invincible feeling. Bassy his voice exploded in an earthly wail like that of an earthquake without the tremors. Suddenly his cloak was once again unfurled and in an instant all that stored energy released. Waves of azure glow pummelled Serra, expelling from the epicenter of this archfiend's chest. As each blast collided with her she felt all the wind knocked out of her anew, a darkness encircling her awareness and a throbbing pain tearing through her nervous system. She was weakened and standing in place, vulnerable.
The man flapped his heavy wings once more and launched the last of this energy, a sphere of dark purple erupting from his fists as they plunged forward. It hit her like the metaphorical sack of bricks, only much harder. Several ribs smashed upon impact, collapsing in her inner chest cavity and posing grave danger to her lungs. Her body was propelled backwards with great force and met with a stubborn boulder. Tender and wounded, her right shoulder was the first thing to make contact with the object, the full mass of her physique crumpling agaisnt it with the velocity of her flight. The appendage wrenched itself from its socket, a crude snapping accompanying it and as her body fell to the ground limp so did it against her, useless.
The enshrouded one landed sprightly, cocking his body disinterestedly and beckoning retort.
Her mouth opened wide. At first, it seemed to be in pain but upon further inspection... it widened even further into a gaping smile. The pain of the puncture within her wasn't a modest one, but she payed it no mind. It struck deep and her body was quivering in shock; yet she payed it no concern at all. She knew her body better than anyone and this was nothing. Something this petty would not harm her... but it would harm a normal human much more severly. She could already feel her body removing the remnants of the bone and slowly fixing the wounded lung. It'd take months before her lungs were in proper proportion again... but she didn't care.
Staggering to her feet, she held her right shoulder with her left palm, touching it lightly and adjusting the pressure to acess the damage. Nothing ultimately damaging but for now it was rendered unable to utilize any of it's physical power. Rotating her neck and head slowly, she began to speak. "Y'know...," her kneck cracked twice, a wince pausing her momentarily and then she continued, "it isn't often that one would be able to damage me this severely, this early in a fight... for that I applaud you, scarred one. And also, besides applause, you deserve a reward. I will reward you with true empathy. Is that suitable to your liking?"
His head turned slightly but obviously oblivious.
Stigmata
Lowering her gaping smile to a mere grin, she raised her palm and rubbed her eyes gently. Shaking her head slowly, she sighed in a fashion similar to an adult when a child spoke non-sense. It was time to start.
Throwing her left hand out and pointing with both her middle and index finger, to the ground beneath the scarred man, a sudden quake began to shake the earth. Raising her fingers upwards and then following with her arm, she stretched it fully out and pointed up to the sky. Increasing at an exponential rate in magnitude, the earth itself began to tear into pieces; the ground beneath the scarred man began to shear itself in two beneath his feet. Giving way completely, he pushed off into the air before he was consumed by the earth.
But a sound reverberated off the walls of the newly created chazm, an intense hollowed vibration. From beneath the depths, a formation jutted upwards behind the airborne scarred man. Turning mid-flight, his expression changed from inquiry to horror as the barbed steel wire lashed out. Slicing into his wrists and ankles, the grip of the wire tightened, driving the barbs deeper into his soft flesh. Wretching him around, the wire forced his legs together and his arms apart to their full span. Spinning him to face Serra with his back to the mysterious object behind him, he could see her grinning up at him. "Don't mind me, pretty boy. You should be worrying about yourself right now."
Reeling him backwards, his body smashed into the object behind him. Stretching his limbs more tightly, the wire ravelled itself around the arms of the object behind him... the crucifix he had been binded to. Bewildered and panicing, he tore at the wire the best he could and struggled to loosen his apendages; yet it was futile and only dug the blades deeper and deeper into his flesh, closer to the arteries and achilles tendon. "Comfortable," she inquired from afar.
Without noticing it coming, three spikes simultaneously plowed through his flesh; one in each hand and one spearing both of his feet. A scream befitting a demon bellowed out of his throat, complete horror bombarding his mind as he realized the damage and what was happening. Blood trickled from the open wounds, the mass of the spikes holding back most of the flow. He couldn't help his body's convulsions, it was physically impossible to hold them back. He tensed and violently thrashed his head, his cloak falling back to his neck, revealing his scarred features. "Oh... we can't have that, can we?"
Beckoning with her left hand again, another spiked wire reached outward from the steel Crucifix and seized him by the head, completely restricting all movement. Glaring down at her, she knew he wasn't pleased. It made her want to giggle... but she couldn't show it, no. No, this was supposed to be professional. "Now, here is your reward. True empathy."
His chest exhaled forcefully, a crushing force of huge power flatening him against the cross. Blood raced up his throat, the crimson liquid launching from his mouth. He couldn't move, he couldn't even inhale; the intense force wouldn't let him. Slowly splintering, he could feel two of his ribs snap off completly while others were slowly following the same path. Sliding into his inner chest, both penetrated the right lung. He tried to scream but nothing came out, his throat had nothing to manipulate into sound. Gargling on his own blood, the force slowly relented. Gasping for air, his damaged lung would not respond but his left lung drew in the precious oxygen he needed; but it wasn't over.
His rotater cuff shattered, a very pinpointed force destroying parts of his collar bone and completely destroying his shoulder. Unable to process the pain at this moment, his eyes turned slowly over to his right shoulder. Serra's left fist was imbedded deeply into his flesh, blood covering her fist. "Now die."
Turning her body fully for a downward, cleaving strike, a large scythe formed in her left hand and was about to be driven directly through the scarred man and the cross he was bound to.
The sight was macabre, crude, and ironic. A dark shrouded man, bearing a resemblance to the specter of death, bound and confined across a bloody cross and being assaulted by the scythe it would seem he should have been wielding. The situation in depth was complex, naught was the relevance of his blood in this sacrificial manner. He was no messiah, his death would serve no purpose; but perhaps his life would avail some greater good, or evil: a knowledge and experience that the world must learn and undergo, at least for this young female warrior. His resolution was stout, and his composure even in such unenviable circumstance unparalleled. No one would take his soul in such a way- not unless it was a fair exchange.
Inferno
The scarred man focused, his eyes blazed with a tangible fire, the ardor of the man physically permeating his flesh and muscles, the bands of barb tightening ever more and the spikes digging deep into his flesh and bone. Color flashed in his pale cheeks, the color exhumed from his spirit, displacing the torpid pallor with a lively fervor and soulful power. He was a dark man, no doubt, but his might bled into the light, taken by and extracted from, and he was inseparably linked to luminosity and flame as much as umbrage and shadow. It was from this, a well of energy of immeasurable magnitude that the man could conjure up his own life and the power to take lives, and importantly the faculty to save his life at the opportune moment. Now was certainly an opportune moment, and Serra watched, though she saw not the initial advance but only the wake of his retort and clouded, charred glimpses enfolded in bloody confusion as she lay on her back in agony.
Certainly not in the image of the biblical figure, so modest and forgiving to die for his followers, pinned to the crucifix, precarious, the black assailant struck back in a furious wave of revenge. Vengeance was characteristic of anger, a deadly sin, and was warranted against Serra in ironic means, the man silently thought. This was quite the predicament, an assault of holy defiance and hellish wrath. It would have to carry the weight of such heavy attachments. This all, such is the brilliance and superiority of the human psyche, happened in moments, between the apparition of a scythe careening towards the encloaked man's neck and the second his visage deviated from frightened to empowered. A second was eternity, this man had that long to protect his life, and a man who has lived an eternity knows how not to lose his life.
"Die,"? bellowed the deep voice, articulating for the first time.
A flame erupted instantaneously, shocking and appalling Serra, who wavered mid air and whose scythe rocketed from her hand in a blast of hot air. The entire cross was enveloped immediately. A burning cross stood atop the mountain, sacrilege to the heavens just as this blight of a landform had become a sacrilege to the earth. Inside their hearts, both warriors knew nothing here was secular. Nor, they knew, was it particularly divine in a conventional sense. This was a shrine of sacredness, at least to Serra from whose memory this scene was extracted. A deep meaning lingered on every inch of land and in every motion in the area. This was hallowed to her, and the man in front of her was desecrating it. And to this purport, her life was tied to the place, systematically being misconstrued, warped, and dismantled. She was already forever different, unquestionably; now she fought for herself and to keep this venerable institution, which was also indirectly her spirit, alive.
The wan warrior was a force though, enigmatic and powerful. His wrath would soon begin.
The crucifix burned, the black man ashen in the center and his life flourishing vigorously. The steel became super heated, expanding as is the wont of metals in great temperatures. The spikes easily slipped out of their metallic casing, though still embedded in flesh. The wire slackened and was easily maneuvered out of. The fire exploded and converged on the woman suspended in mid air still, like a phoenix swooping down and embracing her with its searing fiery wings. He body suffered burns over much of her exposed skin, while her clothing caught flame, burning into her flesh.
Aloft after kicking nimbly off from his crucifix despite uncrossing his feet through the horror of a spike ran though them. He rose to meet his adversary with swiftness, strength and aversion. The enflamed man swung his arm all the way across his body, delivering a stern backhand to Serra's right temple, a metal spike at the epicenter of contact being drilled directly into her head, though relatively shallow. Her right eye would not function properly subsequently.
She caromed to the ground hard, her back snapping hard against the stone earth, a wrenching pain winding up her spine and grasping a tight hold and every muscle along the way, squeezing firmly. The warrior convulsed lightly, submittedly, as though her body resented being subjected to this and attempted to concede in its feeble compulsory gestures. The enshrouded one knew her body spoke words his foe did not, and expected a full and wild rejoinder, collapsing to the ground in a fit of exhaustion, removing a nail from his foot and doing little else besides bleeding.
Serra lay, third degree burns smoldering all over her flesh, seething and still alight.
Interesting, she thought, she wasn't the least bit surprised about this turn out. She hadn't been pushed this far in ages, yet she knew it would happen today. Something deep inside told her this would happen, something told her she'd have no control over it. And it wasn't It, no it wasn't that vile creature, it was something akin to intuition. And just as she'd felt, here she was, laying on the ground unable to move, like that day many years ago; it was going to happen, she could feel the unclean begin to bubble within her veins.
Such an odd feeling, a tide, so chilled yet parched unimaginably, ebbing at her conciousness; wave after wave eroding away her thoughts, covering her with a blanket of frost. Although her blood literally began to boil, she felt no warmth as she slipped into a coma. No, the only connection between her and reality was pressure, ever increasing pressure as the frozen waves amassed over her conciousness. And even with the hatred and enmity seething from her charred body, all she knew was depression.
It controlled her, forcing her into submission once she wavered. She couldn't stop it from taking over anymore, she was too weak. Not that she was ever that powerful to begin with, but they were linked. It's power grew as pain increased but her frail form merely weakened. Such a pity It couldn't destroy her and be rid of this burden, but It had a goal and she was the only means to It. Fortunately, she didn't fight this time... such a pest when she does. Maybe she's finally accepted it... or maybe that b*tch has something planned. Whatever the case...
Juggernaut
Twisting jaggedly, her spine snapped into several pieces; convulsing without care of bodily harm, she heaved upwards in an inhuman position, her arms locked under her back, palms placed out to support her. Swelling in her chest, her bodily organs were forced out of place; a substance churning within her chest, belly contorting to it. Bursting upwards, her esophogus let loose a physical cry... not Serra herself, merely her body crying out instictually. Erupting from her mouth, a black sludge, darker than the asbsence of light itself, poured outward violently. Screeching, the sludge itself tried to speak. A voice akin to Serra's yet melded with another gurgling presence. It used what was left of her conciousness to voice itself before it was muted completely, "I-I-I-t... yhh... wel... comes... yooo. Spe-sp.... cial... gift," yet it didn't come from her mouth, it came from the never ending supply of liquid spewing out.
It had erected her body into a fountain of vomit, the thick liquid forming a circle around the girl, violating her once again. It enjoyed to mock her and with every breath wished to remove her from the grand scheme. Nothing was going to stop it and it was going to derive much pleasure by removing this man from existence and then to destroy his soul in the other realm. Executing him and torturing her by not relinquishing the information she desired, oh what a sweet notion.
Forcefully slamming into her body, the entirity of the liquid enshrouded her in shade. Increasing in size, the liquid began to take form; slowly sculpting itself, the creature formed apendages and a deformed face began It's construction. As it grew, Serra could no longer be seen, whatever trace of her had now been swallowed whole by this incidiary force, a massive nemisis to any who had ever crossed her. Reaching the pincale of size and strength, definition finally began to surface, it's deep eyes hiding away the pupil from which light emnated. Broken and rough, it's thick bone-like frame splintered out of it's form, the black liquid dripped like blood from it's gaping wounds. Tensing It's body, It's head reached to the sky in euphoria, tail whipping side to side, blood flying off in each direction, splattering upon the slopes of the crater. A grimace surfaced upon the Scarred man's face, this didn't look like a turn for the best.
Charging forward, the entity left destruction and airborn drool in it's wake. Pulling himself up to try and get out of It's path, it was already too late. Driving It's skull right below his waist as it charged, the titanic creature crushed him from the waist down, driving him deeper through the solid rock with every continual stride; his legs shattering, compound fractures left within the flesh. Blood tossed up through his mouth, his chest being forced to exhale deeply into the already shattered ribs and punctured lungs. Slowing It's pace, it nudged it's spiked nose under his body, hooking it. Rearing back with It's head, It launched the man high into the air and then pivoting on it's right foot, slammed It's tail directly into him, sending him careening into the highest mountain peak, embedding him into the stone.
Turning back to look at the man, it's eyes began to radiate a powerful azure hue. Opening it's mouth, a mass of energy discharged from it's throat; a massive azure ball of energy jetting towards the man, his eyes opening just in time to catch the blunt of it. Vaporizing the peak of the mountain, the ball continued through into the sky, a small ant like figure falling to the green earth below the crater.
Pausing momentarily, the creature sat in silence, alone. It knew he'd come back, but he'd be in horrid shape no doubt. This form was no longer needed...
Evaporating instantly, the black liquid disappeared completely. Now the young maiden stood, hands fisted, eyes ablaze, enshrouded completely in utter darkness; darkness so strong that it inverted everything around it. Only her figure could be seen, but it was definately not the same woman.
OoC:Finished. My sincere apologies for making you wait this long. I hope you find this worth the time.
IC:
No, surely it was not the same woman. Now, neither her body nor spirit remained unadulterated. Her very soul had been corrupted and mangled, her psyche warped, and her world spun on its axis. The sky now hung dull in the air, fatigued and showing hues of deep purple and bright yellow on the horizon, ominously foreshadowing the oncoming of night and all the evil the nocturne world harbors. The true darkness was yet to settle, this was only a transition into madness-a segue through sanity to the shores of psychosis, the lapping waves of former self the only soothing solace to be found amid the dementia. She had already conceded to shadow herself, and the world would soon bathe her in it further, enveloping and permeating all remaining space and swallowing her in its dreary pools of death. The earth beckoned her return, and it was at this man's whim it did so. His power was unfathomable for his presence knew no limits, and he was a man without boundaries-known to none. And while the human form he possessed lay quivering in debilitating pain and injury, the man was little wounded and his power little worn. He could not move but for convulsive jerks, involuntary, and the shifting of his dark eyes, so purposeful. He gazed unto and into Serra, an aura of black embossing her figure, and saw that the pulsing valve in her chest operated mechanically, maniacally, inhumanly. She was no longer in control and no longer aware. Consumed by darkness she was, and the scarred man grinned for this personal victory while grimacing at the presence of a stronger black entity.
His mind lingered long on this proceeding. The acute machinations of his mind had not incurred such a daunting obstacle nor now fully understood the significance of the occurrence. Pain surged throughout his body but his mind remained unphased and while blood seeped from open wounds and electricity triggered powerful twinges of pain at the sight of crushed bones, his schemings turned outside his fragile body to the omnipresent earth. Dusk was upon the horizon, coinciding with the battles slip into utter darkness. However there remained the dim remaining light of daytime; albeit waning, it was still enough to pierce the darkness, to pierce the blackened warrioress.
Impetuous Twilight
The man dug his fists into the earth, grasping loose earth and forcing it through his fingers by clenching so tightly. The fervency of spirit remained in his body along with the power of his soul. It was with this passion that he beckoned the horizon. He inhaled slowly, and as if he filled his lungs with helium the cloaked figure levitated horizontal for a breif moment before his body was righted vertically, still hovering feet above the ground. He was black, barely visible as a silhouette against the deep navy sky, save for the black hole he created in the cosmos as he blotted out the faint glimmer of the freshly visible stars. This was the view that Serra's new form saw, being feet below the raised figure. Had she, however, been standing on a nearby precipice some several meters higher, his burly form, dilapidation obscured in shadow, would have been but a blemish against an ardent and beautiful sunset. That is what he was now: just a barrier on the road to progress, defending a bulwark against the inevitable. He was the twilight, having long since transitioned from day. He was the twilight and refused to pass into the night for doing so is believed to be the final acceptance of the end. But who dictates when the day begins and ends? Can one not be as impetuous at dawn as at dusk? And does time not continue past the blackness, spinning right back around again to meet the sun, created anew? This man was far from defeated.
Cast against a backdrop desolate but hopeful, the man's aura began to pulsate. Darkness was expelled visibly from his body and suspended in the air about him. The dark figure below looked on in horror, unable to move further towards the man in reactionary defense as the dark energy seemed almost magnetic-that is, it repelled her powerful dark form. She was thrown to the ground unsuspectingly by this repulsive force, blasting into the earth with concussive force, wrenching her right shoulder almost out of its socket as every pound of her weight slammed onto it, rendering it precarious and, were it able to feel pain, excruciatingly painful. A fear should have struck her at this moment, a primal urge that may have proved beneficial in its cautionary response. Yet she remained stalwart and confident, a detrimental virtue.
Black energy surged about the black man, a vortex of shade conglomerated in the chill evening air, sapping energy from the spirits of nocturne into its inimical spiral. His figure was at the center, growing paler by the second, though blood had ceased to escape his body. It was like a ghost hung in the air, a zombie, yet somehow less of a demon. His form began to emanate an angelic essence, not strongly, but enough to be sensed. This was the well of his power being tapped. And it had not even begun to work its magic. As Serra's demonic possessor looked on, a wave of the angelic color, like that of a brilliant fall sunset, became evident around and behind the man.
A beam of divine power issued forth from the heavenly skyline, the power of the sun reflecting off the earths atmosphere and charging directly towards the two spirited warriors as a heavily concentrated blast. It's voluminous power spiraled as if being propelled through a rifle barrel, gaining velocity as it traversed the darkened sky, illuminating the blanched sprawlings of land beneath it. All the earths unearthly powers were being unleashed unto an epic battle. Not even the heavens would return unscathed.
The beam passed through the center of the black vortex, entering with tremendous speed and power and expelling forth in a cannon blast of even greater potential. The bright light washed over the now angelic being hovering in mid air, shining so effulgently his figure was lost to whiteness.
The volley of resplendent energy rained down upon Serra's new dark form with all the finesse of a shotgun blast, plowing her restrained person back into a rather large boulder, which she succeeded in cracking directly in two with the impact. The divine force pressed against her exposed chest was a heavy and burning presence, cracking her ribs as it seared her flesh. The skin around her entire body began to singe as the rock behind her began to vaporize and the wave of power encircled her entire being. Her darkness was being permeated by light, and as is its tendency the light crushed the shade into submission, entirely enveloping the woman and constricting like a vice. Her bones soon snapped and crumbled clumsily, her blood started to hurt in her veins, her demons were beginning to fade.
The light let up, retreating from the blanket of pain that wrapped her body in heavenly warmth and wrath. It did not fade, however, but swirled itself in mid air into a familiar formation. It appeared standing some twenty feet away from Serra's decimated body, similar to the cloaked figure of umbrage but instead emanating the same palpable energy of the opposite affinity as before. He was the other extreme now, and more fervent than ever. The white sage looked onto the waning body of Serra, anticipating.
*coughs up topic*
wow this was soo long ago. I wonder if i could still manage a post of half that maginitude.
That's my problem... I don't want to choke out anything sub par. I'll see what I can do. I really apologize for letting it slip, I just lost the drive to get it out. And I also lost my quiet spot to write in... that didn't help.
OoC: For the record, if you kill Serra - the fight stops. I have no 'extra' forms beyond that. If she dies, she will be reborn as if nothing happened, but she'll be asleep and defenseless. She's undestroyable, but you can kill her. It's like a fail safe in her character.
Also, keep in mind that I'm playing in character, what IT says is IT's character.
For something that couldn't speak, its intentions were fully known and what it had been thinking, although without a voice to speak it, was easily deciphered. To think he could vanquish us with light? It laughed hysterically to itself, dirt scattering away from her face as it choked out muffled noises. To assume that we are purely darkness is to assume that Evil remains only in the shadows. No, even light does not ensure purity or innate Goodness. Even you, Man, who is so consumed by light, have proven that. You are not everything, you are not completely anything, nor are you lacking darkness within you. Swelling around her, the dark aura reappeared and again began to invert its surroundings.
We on the other hand... are nothing, embodied in contradiction. We do not exist here in this plane of existence... but we are everywhere.
Beneath him, the ground tore open and the air split as a void snapped outward and gripped the scarred man by the leg. Swallowing his leg completely, it sucked itself in with extreme pressure, his bones and flesh being completely crushed and mangled beneath its extreme force, destroyed beyond repair. Creeping up his body, he could feel the pressure close in on his pelvis and other leg. It would crush him in an agonizing death if he did nothing. Forcing his hands between the encroaching power and his flesh, he tore the force open at his calf. Wrenching him at the ankle, it twisted him suddenly, and swung him like a rag doll around, spiked him directly into the earth, and then completely wrapped itself around him.
Even with her body shredded and massively wounded, it paid no mind. No matter what happened, how weakened her body became, It could still utilize her body as if it was in perfect condition. That is, unless the body died. But even then, not much to worry about. Launching herself upwards, she struck the ground with both fists and heaved her body into the air. Suspending herself using her ability to alter her surroundings, she hung just above the scarred man; blood falling from her body onto him. Her manic grin could be seen even under the blackened aura she had clad herself with.
You are worthless. You are beneath us. It is you whose existence is a sin. You hinder us. The time of light has passed, and as the Sun sets behind the horizon, so too will the obstacle that blocks our path. We will dispose of you. Even though the sun may rise once again, you will not open your eyes to see it.
Energy ripped through her right arm, a pulsating haze of amethyst compressing itself into an electromagnetic surge of power around her arm. Jagged bolts of electricity sparked off her empowered limb, the blackened aura being sucked up into it, revealing the charred flesh slowly recuperating under the aura. Swelling with immeasurable power, the static energy began to snap off and slit the earth with it's edges; forcing her arm back behind her with it's mass increasing in size and polarity, she fisted her palm.
True Summoning.
Attempting to avoid the strike, the man gathered himself and tried to push through her. Kicking upward with his heels, Serra parried and pulled herself in using his legs. Slamming it into his chest, his sternum shattered and blood charred to sludge within his veins. Yelling out and groaning at once, his body lashed backward into the ground again. Transferring the vibrant haze of power into him, it took hold a part of his life force and began to infest it. Splintering through his flesh, a spider web-like darkness began to surface on his chest as it fed on him.
Havoc Divide.
Gathering enough of his living tissue for the sacrifice to fully summon it out of the next dimension, Serra forced the conversion into action. Ripping out of him, the shaft of the Havoc Divide’s true form completely penetrated his body. Jutting out from his right shoulder blade and just below his cracked sternum, a sickening suction noise filled the air as blood was vaulted out of him. Grabbing onto the shaft of her Scythe’s ultimate form, Serra heaved the hooded man above her as she held the blade to the heavens. Staring up at his pained face, she felt nothing.
Reeling back and then casting the scythe away from her while still inside the Scarred man, his body followed. Twisting inside of him as it flew, the shaft tore at his flesh, forcing him to rotate unwillingly as it opened the gaping wound even farther. Blood spewed from the wound and the Havoc Divide feasted upon him.
Calling the blade back to her with a snap of the hand, it vanished from within the man and appearing instantly in her palm. Slowing his decent immediately, he fell to the earth in shock.
Weapon.
Using the power of the blade, Serra made a devastating forward slash in the air. Shearing the dimension into two separate entities, the power of the slash tore forward through them, splitting them farther apart. Raging towards the falling man, a beautiful cascade of light was shed from within the gap that the Divide continuously opened wider. But then the earth swallowed the sun completely, darkness covering the land without a second thought.
It could no longer see, and it seemed that time had stopped completely, maybe that all of existence had been halted at that very moment. But alas, his scream shattered such a peaceful thought.
It hit him, and it would cleave him into two. Piercing his body as if to make the perfect profile, it split his nose and chin open, as well as part of his throat and chest.
Surely, this was the end for the man, unless God himself stepped in.
OoC: It's a huge attack, with a shockwave behind it. It's already hit you and it's impossible to avoid at this point. I'm not sure how much your character can take so I didn't follow through and cleave you into two seperate pieces. I'm leaving it up to you as to how much damage you take at this point, because this is the point you get to decide how far you want to take this.
hope you dont mind if i take my time with this. i definately want to end it right. i have had work or have been under the influence this week, so i want to get some sleep and straighten my mind out before i write anything. which should be about monday/tuesday, depending on inspiration as well.
OoC: No problem at all.
OoC: Bumpo.
oh thats right, im still alive. i think. the next time i get a burst of creative energy i hope i return here. i really miss this ****
OoC: We can just start a new one if you like. I always enjoy writing with you Ace. I think Sar is better suited for you anyhow.