((Here we go, Angel!!))
Dark, stormy nights never bring good tidings. For one, you can't see where you are going, and secondly, evil things tend to be out. Any self respecting non magical human knows that. And yet, the messenger from the Central Calgate Manor was out, riding, riding, in the bleak foreboding weather.
The rain lashed his clothing, drenching his cloak, and acting as a better whip than the leather reins he held in his hands. Incredibly slippery – both the reins, and the path – it was all he could do control his steed, and to prevent himself from falling off every time they hit a stone, or uneven ground. And yet he pressed on. Whatever the message was, had to be important, if the lord and lady had sent their personal messenger out.
Whatever the message was, Daemora cared not. All she was interested in was the job, the money. Cold blooded and hot headed, calm, yet incredibly impulsive, she was a paradox of juxtapositions. OK, so it pissed her off that her hair was drenched, but at least that demon leather suit she'd invested in kept her body dry. The droplets of rain ran down the sleek black leather like scuttling beetles, polishing the material until her jumpsuit gleamed, a shadow of jet in the cold, cold forest.
Perching in the branch wasn't her favourite way of spending her time, but it beat the usual shoot em and run scenario. Damn demons and humans. She was hated by both sides. Hated by humans for the demonic blood in her veins, and distrusted by the demons because she killed her own kind for money. She was probably the most racially tolerant being out there – race mattered not when there was a metaphorical bulls eye splashed across their chest, and a big bag of gold hovering above their heads.
At the moment, she was in one of three ancient beech trees overlooking the bridge, the most strategically advantageous position to be in. The river would be a good place to dump the messenger's body. It might even send him home. Shifting on her haunches, she grasped the handle of her modified weapon tighter. It was black, shaped like a...well, nothing the residents here had ever seen before. It was a mod, a blend of magic and metals unknown to this land, but common in the lower level of hell where one of her birth parents had come from.
Aha...the faint clippity clop of hooves...
"About time too," she said through gritted teeth.
There he was, coming down the path, in plain sight. She wouldn't even grace him with a view of his killer. One shot, and the weapon discharged an electrically charged black ball of her very own magic, which hurtled straight for the man's chest. The shock from the ball killed him instantly.
Daemora dropped to her feet, cat-like, and grabbed the horse's reins. She was no good with animals; horses to her were only fodder for her stomach. The best flared its nostrils and panicked, so she shot the horse and it too, fell to the ground, dead. Daemora kneeled beside the dead man, and rifled through his pockets. Clasping the letter in triumph, she unzipped the top of her suit and slid the letter into a pocket, before zipping up and giving the man and his horse their final send-off.
"Welcome, paycheck," she said.
---
The next job came from an advert in a shady tavern, one she rarely frequented. She was in the process of picking up a partner for the night as a source of relief from the work. Physically demanding was the job of a freelance mercenary, but then again the perk of it was a very finely toned body.
Cigarette smoke trailed the air lazily, creating a haze of suspended animation in the bar. Sat in a corner by herself, sipping a drink, her eye travelled to the notices on the wall, one of which definitely caught her attention.
"Repel a demon invasion in village North of Terrin Mountains, six figure pay-off. Someone please, help."
The notice seemed to have been there for a good few months, so she judged that either the bar-keeper had been too indolent to remove it, or the attacks were still plaguing the villagers. Or maybe it was over, and the demons had won, so no one had been left alive to inform the tavern here that the notice wasn't needed anymore. Or maybe even, the notice was a lure for unsuspecting mercenaries.
Snorting to herself, Daemora slung her bag over her shoulder and left the bar, thoughts of hooking up forgotten. That was definitely intriguing, and something she'd have to check out. If there were no people left, and therefore no reward, then she could always join up with the demons. But if not, then there was some serious cash at hand.
((Hey, haven't posted up Daemora's profile yet, but will do as soon as possible. When you post, let's have it jump forwards in time to when your charrie is already there at the Mountains, surveying the damage of the village and we have Daemora join him. Well, it's only an idea but let me know if you have any you'd rather do!))
The mountain village looked to be in ruins. Bodies of the humans who once lived here had deteriorated into bone and still-rotting flesh. Houses were damaged, blood stained the ground and wall, and a dark aura hung in the air. Dark, inhuman shadows seemed to be moving this way and that.
No one had dared to venture into this desolate village, devastated by countless demons. This was now a demon encampment, populated by those who sought to defile all that is good and just. All those who tried to retake the village were lost, so the decision was made about a month ago to just erase the village off of the known map.
But now, on this dark, stormy night, a man with a scythe and a greatsword strapped cross-style on his back decided to pass through the village on his never-ending journey around the known world. His name was Jonah Azrael.
Jonah walked at a leisurely pace into the seemingly abandoned village, uncaring for what had happened here. The damaged homes, the rotting, mangled, and mutilated corpses, and the blood staining the ground, rock face, and walls...none of this even so much as bothered him, for he had become accustomed to such sights. The cold, hard look on his face and in his eyes never changed as he passed the houses. The stench of rotting flesh and blood never even fazed him.
A flash of lightning, a roar of thunder. In an instant, Jonah was surrounded by a couple dozen vaguely humanoid shadows that belonged to the demons. Inhuman laughter resonated through the ranks at their new prey. They then lunged at Jonah with claws, fangs, and weapons ready to tear up the man.
In the short time that followed, Jonah felt this an annoyance to him. These demons, no matter how fearsome or powerful they were, were just small hindrances in his eyes. A high-pitched whistling sound pierced the air. Then Jonah uttered one word:
"BURST."
The moment the demons caved in on him, a dome of white-hot flames surrounded him and surged outward. The demons caught fire and flew backwards a good 30 feet and crashed into walls of houses or fell to the ground. They were all writhing in agony as the flames began to melt their bodies.
But Jonah was far from finished. He took his bloodstained scythe in his hands and ran to each and every one of the demons. Lightning continued flashing, and thunder continued roaring. With each demon, he easily cleaved them in ways never thought possible, ways that could easily sicken any normal person. The demons' inhuman screeches were cut short by Jonah's scythe.
This massacre took less than a minute.
Satisfied, Jonah mounted his scythe on his back and looked to the skies, which already began pouring with rain. Each drop that came close to him evaporated, since he had just done battle. He then just stood there, staring at the darkened sky, contemplating.
((Hope that's a good enough intro!))
Right, so the journey to the mountains had been long and tedious, not to mention life threatening on several occasions. As Daemora had left the town and wandered further and further north, the land grew more and more hostile. Desolation stretched for miles, and the last time she'd seen a dwelling had been well...two days ago.
There was only an old man living there, and he'd been pretty much frozen to his seat as she'd stalked about the dwelling, helping herself to food and this and that, and a warm shower. She'd left him alive, because he hadn't been a threat, nor was there much pleasure to be gained by killing him. She preferred her victims to fight back, to thrash underneath her grip.
What had been greying fields was now replaced by barren rock, and patches of white snow. A harsh biting wind had become the norm, and every now and then, a straggling tree soured the landscape with desperate branches, bent and twisted into hideous forms by the cruel wind. Even encased in leather, Daemora felt the cold, and being a naturally hot blooded creature – she had spent a good few years living in fire and brimstone – the cold pained her more than she would care to admit.
"Kra'jit," she swore when the path ended, and the forest began. Who the hell knew where this godforsaken village lay?! Everyone she'd met had said to head north as the crow flies, but no one had made any mention of a damn forest.
This was perfect for an ambush. Here the trees would hinder her progress, and down in the gloom, under the canopy of the hostile pines, it was as if she'd stepped out of the other world, into a new one where muffled silence reigned. Every crunch of a footstep, every crack of a twig would be heard down here, and in a place so barren of life, she would be sure to attract whatever was out there.
It was night by the time Daemora came to the clearing where the village had once stood. Night, and a stormy one at that. As she stood there, surveying the damage, she got the feeling that someone else was still here. Walking over to the fresh pile of bodies, none of which were human, Daemora bent over and laid a hand upon the flesh. The residual traces of warmth seeped through her skin.
So there was another player in the game.
She turned over the demon on the top of the pile, and stared at it's face. This was a brand she'd never seen before. Not one of the higher demons, this was one of those lower, vicious types. Vaguely humanoid, this demon had grey skin, with spikes running along it's arms. It's cold, dead eyes would've shone with a fierce red, and she had no doubt that it's teeth were more than vicious.
Dropping the demon back, Daemora walked slowly through the village, peering into every open doorway. Her eyes scanned every broken window, every smashed wall, every burnt or decaying body with a lifelessness, a ruthlessness that one needed to have stayed alive for as long as she had.
She had just finished doing a round of the village and was doubling back, when she heard a crack. Whipping round, she was met with nothing. Daemora's grip on her weapon relaxed slightly, but inside, she was on full alert. Moving back down the main path, she heard a footstep again, and whipped around to be faced once again with empty air.
Was something else here?
She felt her blood boil, and a demonic strength surge through her veins. Demon or human, she was itching to kill something. Anything.
Another creak. She spun around, prepared for the worst.
Jonah had lost all sense of time as the stormy night lagged on. The raindrops that would've hit him formed a hot mist around his body. Every few minutes, lightning would light up the pitch black sky for an instant, and the drum of thunder would soon follow. He just stood there, contemplating. The answer as to what he was thinking about still eluded him.
The mist around him began to dissapate. He was ready to set off again. Before he took one step, however, he immediately sensed another dark presense. This one was peculiar, though...it was as if only half of this one's presence was demon.
Jonah wasn't exactly what one would call half-demon. He had demon blood coursing through his veins, but he was otherwise human. That effectively made him a tiefling....a tiefling who happened to have a powerful fragment of the Angel of Death's essence locked up somewhere in his mind.
His demon blood beckoned to fight once more. This time, it craved a larger challenge, one that could actually fight back despite constant battery and assault. It didn't matter what kind of prey it was. As long as it could fight back, it was alright for him.
Jonah then began to walk around the village, searching for this person. He then saw his prey from behind one of the damaged houses...a woman who seemed to be heavily equipped with a strange gun. Jonah had rather unpleasant experiences with guns before, especially when said guns fired orichalcum bullets; they didn't kill him, but they brought him great pain that would normally kill a lesser demon in a few minutes.
The will to fight was too great for him to bear. He took his scythe in hand and climbed up to a still-intact roof. He then had a better view of his opponent. He didn't wish to kill her just yet, so he skillfully threw his scythe at her. A spark of lightning and a snap of thunder occurred as the scythe's bloodstained blade embedded into the ground mere inches away from where her foot was
Daemora had just turned around, and was in mid-step when something whizzed past her, whistling through the air. It thudded to the ground, inches from where her foot had been. Add to that a roll of thunder, a flash of lightning, and you had one of the most dramatic yet cliché entries in the book. The initial buzz of the shock had gone, and Daemora rolled her eyes in distaste.
"If I didn't know any better, I would've thought you were aiming to miss me," she said tersely, with her back to the stranger.
Spinning around lazily, her eyes roamed the wastelands, until they rested upon a mysterious man, stood on a rooftop with his feet apart in a dominant stance. Snorting, she took in his build- tall, muscular, with a billowing coat to add a touch of drama – she liked the goatee, now that was a quaint feature indeed. Even from here, she could see that his eyes were lusting for battle.
Daemora arched an eyebrow in amusement. With her eyes still fixed to the man, she leaned over, giving him a good view of her leather-clad body, and plucked the scythe from the ground. Running a finger over the cruel metal blade, she then raised her fingertip to her lip, and tasted the blood that stained the metal.
Definitely demon.
So this was her insignificant other then. Looked like he'd already done the job too. Heh, all she had to do now was to finish the man and then claim the money as hers. Easy peasy.
Daemora slowly lifted up the scythe, making sure the man could see, and made a motion as if to snap it. Of course she didn't snap it, not yet. She was just interested in how he would react, and interested in how dear this weapon was to him.
Jonah's expression remained as hard as ever when she picked up his scythe. But when she made a move to snap it, his left eye twitched. That was no ordinary scythe she was holding; it was one of his family's heirlooms, a scythe meant for his hands alone. She had no right to simply break it...that is, if she could.
Jonah raised his left arm at the woman half-demon and uttered one word in a voice that sounded not like an individual's, but an entire legion's.
"CONSUME."
A few seconds later, the ground beneath the woman trembled and erupted in a column of flames and magma.
As the stranger raised his left arm, Daemora twirled the scythe in her right hand, and left it to the last split second before leaping into the air. She knew what was coming; she felt the tremors in the earth, as the ground prepared to split and spew forth hellfire.
The flames burst out of the ground, but she was up, her momentum carrying her upwards, higher and higher into the air. Unfortunately the flames licked her calves, but she moved too fast for them to catch hold of her clothing.
She landed on a rooftop, opposite the mysterious man and still clutching the scythe. Daemora smiled thinly to herself. She had been testing the man, assessing his movements, and so far she'd learned that she held a monopoly over him in still possessing the weapon. Why had he thrown it at her in the first place? For show?
It seemed his alignment was with fire, an element that Daemora's demon half revelled in. It wasn't her natural alignment; but she had greater resistance to fire than a lot of other beings. Of course that wasn't to say that fire still couldn't hurt her.
"So he wants to play dead then," she muttered to herself.
Fine by her. Shoot first and ask questions later. That was the thought in her mind as she raised her gun, took careful aim, and fired a ball of dark magical energy at the man. She totally expected him to avoid the hit; it was just a test. And if he failed then oh well, she'd just go and claim the prize.
((Hehe we should have some attacks from other demons sometime later in the RP!))
Jonah now knew that this prey was actually one that could fight back. This made things all the more exciting. But she seemed to be holding back. Then again, so was he; he was only testing her. Was she doing the same? Now this is getting interesting, he thought.
He saw her avoid the attack with ease. This really didn't surprise him, for he had a much stronger arsenal of flame magic up his sleeves. And he would get his scythe back even if he killed her in the process.
He then noticed her aiming her gun at her. Yet it fired an odd round...an orb of dark magic? Obviously, she had no idea who she was dealing with. He revelled not only in fire, but in darkness as well. Yet he didn't know the full extent of his dark magic, for it was a very powerful, forbidden magic.
"Impudence."
Nonetheless, he allowed the orb to hit him in the gut. The impact was very painful to him, yet he only staggered back a couple of steps. His breath was knocked out of him and pain surged through his body. He knelt down, his body getting used to the pain as he absorbed the magic within the sphere.
After a few moments, he stood, his body radiating with dark energy. There wasn't a lot in that sphere, but it was good enough for another spell.
"GRAVE," he uttered. Immediately, a dark tendril with a razor tip shot out of the ground behind him and headed for the girl at high speed. He intended that tendril to claim his scythe back. One second later, four more tendrils shot out of the ground. Those he intended to kill the woman with.
Blah! He was stronger than she thought. Now she was slightly annoyed. Daemora let loose a few rounds of her magic orbs, whilst she simultaneously jumped from rooftop to rooftop just as the tendrils were released by the man.
They followed her around, deadly wisps homing in on their target. When they were about two metres away from her, Daemora finally realised she couldn't shake them off, and spun around to fight them. The first one she fended off with the scythe, the second one with her own orb. But the last few struck her full on, locking around two of her limbs, and binding her to the rooftop where she stood.
Blast that creature, she cursed, baring her teeth in a fierce snarl as she was brought to her knees. Suddenly searing pain racked up her legs, and with a cry, Daemora swung the scythe at the tendrils, slicing them off before they could do any more damage. She'd figured that she could use his own magic to beat him.
"No civilities," she spat, regaining her stance. She added sardonically, "Not even a 'welcome to this godforsaken place, now I'm going to kill you'. What is it, cat got your tongue?"
Jonah snorted as more dark orbs flew at him. He unsheathed his greatsword and hacked his way through the orbs. He then saw that the woman was having problems with the tendrils. He was rather dissapointed that the first one failed to get his scythe back, but the others seem to be doing their job rather well.
Jonah almost laughed at the comment, but instead, his face and eyes remained as hard as steel. "Talk is cheap," he said simply. He then used his flames to propel him to the building where the woman was on. "Now I'll be taking my scythe back." He raised his left hand, and a high-pitched whistling sound pierced the air. He focused his sights on his scythe and superheated it to almost eight hundred degrees celcius. That should get her to let go of it.
"Great, so you're one of the brooding ones," Daemora muttered.
Always out there for the show. For them, it was all about the show. Daemora was finding this weary now. When the man landed on her rooftop, she lightly stepped out of his way so there was a gap of three metres. Enough room for her to react.
"Here, take your toy back," Daemora said offhandedly and threw the weapon back to the stranger, just before he superheated it, so she didn't know what the hell the whistling was all about. More dramatics?
She spat on the rooftop, and kicked away the last wisp of the tendrils before massaging her thighs. With one hand behind her back, she conjured up another ball of dark energy, but instead of lobbing it at the man, she tossed it into the air, whereupon it enlarged, swallowing them both up, and forming an enclosed, crackling electric arena.
If he touched the bubble at all, then there would be a ten thousand voltage shock to his system. People could only take so much shocking before they passed out. She wouldn't be affected though, unless it was to power up the energy required to maintain this arena.
"You want to die? Then be my guest," she said sardonically, and flipped away from the man, using both her hands to formulate an electric zap, which was aimed right at him.
Jonah saw that this woman was more anticipating than he thought. He grabbed the scythe back, his hand not affected by the high temperature. The scythe cooled down in his grasp, and he now had both weapons in both hands.
He saw what the woman was planning. She was enclosing them in an electrically charged field. Another mistake on her part. Electricity seemed to be her element, and, knowing his experiences with it, it was going to be rather painful. But he wasn't about to die anytime soon.
After she made the remark about him wanting to die, he inwardly chuckled, but his expression remained unchanging. As she lobbed an electric charge at him, his eyes changed. It was as if there was the faintest flicker of a smirk in them.
"Insolence."
She still didn't get it. Therefore, he allowed the charge to strike him. Electricity began to surge throughout his entire body as his muscles went into spasms. Pain was all he felt. His heartbeat stopped. He fell to his knees, unresponsive. But even though his heart ceased temporarily, his mind still worked. The Oath still stood. His mind sent out the command to slowly superheat the area within the field.
That man was a one word wonder, Daemora thought, shaking her head in disbelief. Bloody arrogant fool. Pursing her lips in a frown, she imagined all the different ways in which she would enjoy killing this person. She'd never flayed a person before, but there was a first time for everything.
Ha, his skin should be worth something in a lower region of hell. And she could trade his carcass with the cannibals in the Yoreiq Isles for some ancient artefact or another.
The electric ball she'd released slammed into the man, and...it looked...it looked like...he was going down.
Daemora wasn't that stupid.
She threw out more electric balls, aiming them so when (or if, but she was pretty certain they would strike) they struck his body, the force would send him closer and closer to the edges of her ten thousand volt arena. How many beings would be able to survive that eh?
The air inside the dome was getting hotter and hotter. Jonah remained motionless, unaffected by the heat. But the woman would start to feel delirious soon.
He felt more electric bolts come at him, striking his body and sending him off of his knees. Pain continued to radiate through his body. It was a pain that he hadn't experienced in many years.
He then hit the dome. Electricity coursed through his body as the dome held him in shock for a few seconds. He felt even more pain as his muscles began to spasm uncontrollably. Who knew that so much electricity could hurt him a lot? It couldn't kill him, though.
He fell to the ground, unconscious. His heartbeat and breath had stopped, and all of his inner functions had ceased...for now. The temperature in the dome continued to rise.
She first started to notice the heat after her eighth electro ball. Now Daemora had an extremely high resistance to heat, but even so, she couldn't help but pause in her volley of ammunition to take note of the new advancements. What the hell was he scheming, that sneaky bastard?
Using the magnetic field of her arena, Daemora was able to hover in the middle, above the ground. He wasn't even putting up a fight no more, she thought with a hmph and her hands upon her hips. Pouting, she hurled one last ball at him for good measure, and as she did so, she felt a wave of dizziness take over, that caused her to drop a few feet unsteadily.
"What's his game?" She muttered through gritted teeth, eyes narrowed to slits.
The temperature was increasing at a much more rapid pace now. She was finding it harder to maintain her core temperature, to stabilise, for her energies were being drained- split to power up the arena and to create the electric balls. Why wasn't he suffering too?!?
Dammit, she'd be roasted alive if she pondered that for much longer, especially at this accelerated rate. Throwing her head back in a snarl, she revealed two sets of tiny horns, that had been hidden by her hair. With a frustrated wave of her hands the arena disappeared- all the energy went back into her body, and the superheated air dissipated into the cold night air.
Jonah's unconscious form felt no pain as the last ball hit him in the back. He didn't move at all. But soon enough, his mind was working again, but every other internal function would take awhile to come back working.
Was this girl really that stupid? She had no idea who he is and what he is capable of doing. She was gravely underestimating his power. That mistake would cost her her life, he decided. She was in for a rude awakening when she found out that he couldn't die. But he needed to be awake and active for that to work.
Fire always did the trick in reviving him to consciousness, so he saw no point in breaking with tradition. Thus, he commanded a monstrous inferno to spring forth from the ground and consume the both of them in hellfire. He had no doubt that she would be able to dodge the flames. If she didn't...well, he would be enjoying roasted half-demon tonight.
Daemora let the energy she'd reabsorbed settle in her body, simmering and churning. Oh, she'd prepare her biggest zap for this fellow yet. She could feel the static dance across her tiny horns, tiny blue electric sparks that sizzled into existence and then dissipated in the blink of an eye. He would get his eternal rest.
Still hovering in the air, she shivered, hoping the man would use some of his fire magic again to warm her blood up, for even though the rain had ceased to fall, the air was cooling down faster than she'd have liked it to. Daemora wasn't disappointed. Somewhere, an owl hooted, reminding her of where she was. Tiny pinpricks of cold starlight tinkled in the cavernous sky, as flames erupted from the ground.
Smiling as if she enjoyed herself, Daemora swooped towards them, and began to spin around ever so fast. Hurtling through the flames, still spinning, she fanned them away from her before they could do any damage, yet transferred enough of their heat so she felt sufficiently pumped up. Of course, this wasn't really good for the rest of the village.
Whatever dry wood there was left, burst into flame, and the rotting bits of timber began to crumble and fall to the ground. Any wet wood quickly dried and also burst into flame, until the whole village, and even the edges of the forest was on fire. Scorched flesh from all the dead bodies reached her nostrils, causing Daemora to wrinkle them in hunger and distaste.
She scythed through the air, rising above the flames and by now, was sufficiently charged. Between her horns, two electric bolts were meeting in the middle, charging up a mega ball that could probably devastate the whole village. It would look as if the place had been hit by a crater. She wasn't going to release this baby yet, no way. She was gonna pump it up to the max.
The flames brought Jonah to consciousness. He stood, despite the pain going through his body. He was still having spasms in his back muscles, and his right hand had gone numb. But the flames slowly relaxed the pain away. He picked up both his weapons and placed them cross-style on his back. He felt the woman gathering energy in the form of electricity. Such massive energy...but all for naught, if she was planning to kill him. He would teach this woman her rightful place...her unmarked grave.
He would give her true hell.
Focusing on the flames, he allowed them to spiral together into a single, mega-compressed ball of molten lava and fire. Fire also poured out of his mouth and eyes to strengthen it. He also tapped into a small amount of his inner dark magic, which made the orb turn into a pitch black color lined with angry red cracks. This time, there would be no holding back. This place and the surrounding area would become a lifeless wasteland.
The fire that had surrounded them was now gone, leaving behind cinders, ashes, and smoldering corpses. He saw her hovering in the air with her own orb of supercharged electrical energy. He just gazed at her, his hard expression never leaving him, his eyes burning with death.
Unholy Lucifer, this guy was a madman! It was there in his eyes! Why hadn't he died yet, or even shown some sign of injury?! Where most creatures would quail with fear, Daemora only felt more and more pumped up. Sliding the gun back into it's holster, she rose away from him, heading higher, and higher into the night sky.
Was it fear that made her move away from him?
Naw.
She was gaining altitude, hundred metres, two hundred...the air whistled past her cheeks, scorching them raw, and all the while the electric pressure was still building, simmering, seeking an outlet.
Daemora decided that if this blast didn't do the trick, then she'd either slice his head off, or simply just call it quits. She wouldn't really have much energy left for anything else after this, and what she wanted most right now, was a hot, molten bath. When she felt as if she were close enough to touch the stars, Daemora paused, and scanned the ground below her.
Even up here, she could see the red glow. His seemingly unlimited power annoyed her so, so much. But not for much longer. Smiling to herself, she counted the seconds, before release.
Jonah had exhausted most of his pyrokinetic magic to form the molten black orb in his hands, and it took much of his strength just to keep it stable. The ground was quaking beneath his feet, and the air around him became heavily distorted from the intense heat. He kept compressing the orb until it was no bigger than his eye. Such was his raw power.
He saw that she was rising higher and higher into the air. She was out of the orb's reach. But he had just enough flame magic left within him for him to burst up to her altitude for a short time. While keeping the ball stable, he uttered, "RISE." Instantaneously, a geyser of ultrahot air burst from the ground, propelling him upward. With the exception of the orb he was holding, his fire magic was temporarily expired, and it would take a very long time for it to recover.
Higher, higher, and higher he rose. He saw her still charging up energy for her own attack. Faster and faster, until he slowed down and, eventually, stopped at the same altitude she was at. The incredibly strong geyser kept him aloft. He was about fifty meters away from her. He then just gazed at her with his cold eyes, daring her to make a move.
"Oi, what you doing??" She yelled, hands on her hips defensively as he followed her up. Damn, could he fly too?!
This guy really was beginning to creep her out. Daemora was a safe enough distance away from him, but still, she'd had enough of surprises. What was supposed to be a simple job had become naught but an all-out display of power.
She decided to irk him. "You capable of anything other than one word sentences?"
Just a few more seconds now...
((Sorry for the shortness!))
Jonah raised an eyebrow at this comment. It was a stupid question the woman was asking, but he decided to answer anyway.
"You underestimate me, woman," he said, an edge of steel in his voice. "I am beyond anything you can ever fathom. I just don't care to speak of it too much."
It was true. She had borne witness to his incredibly high threshold of pain and his inability to die. She saw what he was capable of doing. Why doesn't that stop her? Unless she wanted to die by his hands. She tried to irk him. Time for him to do the same.
"Do you wish to die?" he asked. "If so, I'd be more than happy to help. Would you like it quick and painless? Or do you want to feel the chill of the night slowly run down your spine as you slowly succumb to death?"
Any second now...
Daemora was bored.
"Bored now," she murmured in a singsong voice, and released her giant ball. The moment she did that, she hurtled back towards the ground at supersonic speeds, eager to get away from the devastation that would surely ensure.
The ground below her was still in flames, charred, and cracked. Strange...from the cracks came an orange glow, and dancing shadows. With a shudder, the ground jerked and heaved, and a vast chasm of rock opened up before her, to reveal what looked like millions of the demons. Damn, the poster hadn't been lying when it said there was an infestation.
Daemora cursed inside. Even if that other man had died, no way could she go back and claim the money until these demons had been sorted out.
Above her, there was a brilliant explosion, and super white lithium light blinded her for a split second. That must've been her ball, doing the trick. Daemora smiled, a thin smile of victory. However, she now had no juice left, and the ground was coming up incredibly fast...and...those demons did look rather hungry...and...if she was lucky she wouldn't land in the pit...
Jonah was lucky that the hot geyser beneath him finally gave way to his weight when it did; the electric orb zoomed just inches above his head. He didn't feel like going unconscious again. He then began to fall as the orb exploded in a brilliant flash of light that lasted only for a split second.
He then looked beneath him and saw what looked like millions of demons erupting from a chasm in the ground. At the rate he was falling, they were coming up pretty fast. It looked like the woman was going down into the pit as well. Even if she died, Jonah would have a problem killing this many demons in his state.
He still had his compressed orb. Now that would do the trick, wouldn't it? He didn't care if the other woman died. These demons were just thorns in his side.
"EXPLODE," he uttered, releasing the molten black orb to the ground. It miraculously missed some of the demons, but that's what he intended.
In an instant, the chasm glowed a deep, blood red, and suddenly, a giant shockwave of red and black fire burst upward in a brilliant and deadly explosion which took the shape of the opening in the chasm. All of the lesser demons were incinerated, while some of the tougher ones were merely set ablaze. But it didn't end there. Giant columns of fire followed the explosion, bursting out of the chasm and making short work of the rest of the demons. Now, only a few of the higher-ranking demons remained, but he would deal with those himself.
In short, what was left of the village was now gone, and the area looked like a war zone.
Jonah hurtled downwards at breakneck speed and crashed into the ground., succeeding in breaking his right arm and a couple of ribs, as well as tearing a major gash in his right temple. Oily black blood slowly seeped out of his wound. He sighed in annoyance and pain; even his bones took a long while to mend together.
Unfortunately she did land in the pit. Daemora was going so fast that she smashed through many layers of rock, finally landing in what appeared to be a dark, subterranean cavern on a much, much lower plane. She was probably a hundred metres down, when her momentum gave way and so therefore she missed the immense blast above.
However, just because she missed the blast didn't mean that she couldn't feel the after-effects of it.
"Kra'jit!" She swore, as the rumbling of rock added to her stupid headache. Travelling through solid rock did that to a person. And it didn't help that sharp boulders were being dislodged from the ceiling, and were being pulled down towards her by that excellent force known as gravity.
By the time Daemora had climbed up and killed whatever mangy demons had tried to attack her, her hair was dishevelled, her clothing torn, and the expression on her face...well...if looks could kill. Fresh out of juice, she flopped down on a crag, on the underside of the chasm, a few metres below fresh light, and closed an eye, but that wasn't really a good idea.
A shadow fell across, and she opened an eye to find a grotesque...thing...leering at her.
Son of Hell, she swore inwardly. Reaching for her gun, she swung it wearily at him and let off a ball of electricity that was nowhere near powerful enough to kill him. Nay, but it was enough for her to land a kick in his chest and clamber away. She had to get above ground.
While this was going on, Jonah finally got himself to his feet and faced his final opponents: three high-ranking demons who appeared to be very vicious and tough. Judging from their wounds, they only sustained minor burns and scratches, and they still looked very well capable of tearing someone to pieces. They seemed to be hesitant as well, for they knew who had destroyed their army. But then a look of confidence shone in their eyes, for Jonah was wounded and vulnerable.
Or so they thought.
Fresh out of fire magic, Jonah felt that tapping into his dark power would bring catacalysmic results. He was in no condition for melee engagement, either. The odds were against him, it seemed. But not for long. Even when injured, he was a very dangerous man.
Jonah felt there was no choice but to use his dark magic to deal with one of these three. "CRUMBLE," he uttered. Instantly, one demon was surrounded by a field of blackness, an empty void. The dark energy that emanated from it was enough to mummify the demon and crumble to pieces. The other two demons lunged at him for a vengeance strike. With his good arm, Jonah unsheathed his sword and slashed at one demon, successful in laying a large gash in one of them that almost separated its upper half from its lower half. The other demon slashed at him with wicked sharp nails, tearing three long, thin wounds in his right side. Though it hurt him, it didn't stop Jonah from impaling it with his sword square between the eyes. He then drove his sword upwards out of its head, slicing it in two perfect halves. The demon fell, obviously dead.
Satisfied, Jonah turned around to leave, only to come face-to-face with a mammoth of a demon. It easily towered over him by about twenty or so feet, and it sort of resembled a cross between an ape and a lizard, with a much more demonic appearance. It was also covered in a very thick armor from head to toe. Jonah sighed; how was he going to deal with this big brute?
With a gasp, Daemora burst out from the chasm, flopping upon the charred and blackened ground. No amount of money was worth this stupid adventure, she thought, gritting her teeth in a fierce scowl. Her eyes had contracted to demon slits in reflex to the few attacks she had staved off whilst climbing back up to fresh, night air. It wasn't even a joke anymore. She was out of juice, still no richer than she had planned to be at this time of night, and that bloody man had refused to die.
Daemora got to her feet, and shook her head from side to side. Bits of debris and dust fell out of her hair. Her hand went to her holster, tensing at first, but then with relief, she pulled out her black weapon. It was a wonder she hadn't lost it. This baby was powered by her own juice, and it looked like it was still half full. Daemora contemplated reabsorbing that energy, but perhaps it would be better if she used it in small shots, rather than in one big boom.
She was definitely in no shape to fly, and really, there was nowhere to fly to. For at least a mile radius, the ground was black and flattened. Only the charred tree stumps remained, and the village had all but gone, obliterated. Flat ground was open ground, and that meant that whatever creepy crawlies out there would be able to see her also.
Daemora decided to go find a stream to wash in. And, the mountains were as good a direction as any to start heading for. She'd been walking for a few minutes when she heard a thud, thud. Bodies in combat, her mind said.
Her pupils returned to their dilated state, and she smirked, spotting the telltale figure of that man. He looked as if he needed help. He hadn't seen her yet, and she decided to stop and watch. She'd be damned if that higher level demon was able to accomplish what she hadn't been able to do.
((Friday nights are normally a bit hectic for me, soooorry!))
Okay, so Jonah wasn't in the best shape to fight this big lug. His arm was broken, he had sustained substantial wounds, and he had exhausted his fire magic. That left him with only one other alternative: his dark magic. The situation he was in was dire, so he had no choice but to use it.
First thing's first: get rid of the armor that protected the demon.
"GRAVEYARD," he uttered. Immediately, dozens of dark tendrils with razor sharp points erupted from the ground and began pummeling the demon. Slowly but surely, the tendrils chiseled away the armor. The demon roared and swung its enormous arms around to dispose of the tendrils. Yet each time one tendril was destroyed, another one sprung from the ground and took its place.
In rage, the demon threw a giant fist at Jonah. It made impact, shattering a few of his ribs and causing him to spit out black blood. He hit the ground hard, and just laid there, completely motionless. The initial shock of the punch made him temporarily paralyzed. The dark tendrils scattered and dissipated, leaving the demon mostly bare. The demon then unleashed a mouthful of flame upon Jonah.
Jonah felt the flames licking across him. Such a pleasant feeling it gave him. He was beginning to rejuvenate as he felt the pain go numb. He stood and let his body absorb the flames, allowing them to course into his body. It was a relatively small amount, but good enough for one final, powerful spell.
"CONFLAGRATE."
The demon never saw it coming. A giant wall of flames erupted from the ground and molded itself around the demon. It then glowed a bright white and exploded, sending charred demon remains flying in every direction. The sky was alight with the leftover fire that was slowly consuming them. Jonah had done his job well, and once again, his fire magic had expired.
He turned around to see the half-demon woman standing there, battered and bruised, but still very much alive. He raised an eyebrow, but his face otherwise remained unchanged. "I'm impressed that you managed to survive," he said.
Hmm, this guy isn't human, Daemora thought, just as the stranger finished off that huge demon. It wasn't fair how much magic he had! She narrowed her eyes, faintly annoyed. And the cocky way he went about it all too.
As if he were responding to her thoughts, the man turned around, and Daemora locked eyes with him, unflinching.
"I'm impressed that you managed to survive."
"I'm appalled that you're still alive," she retorted, placing her hands on her hips. "What are you doing here anyway?"
Jonah sighed as he tried to relocate the bone in his arm. It had broken right at the elbow, and now he was moving it around with his good arm to try and find the socket where it belonged.
"Just passing through, minding my business," he replied, his voice cold and hard. He finally managed to relocate his arm, for a sickening CRACK sounded out. He then moved it around a bit, making sure that it was going stay there. Ah, that was better. Now the ribs were going to be difficult...
"I'd like to ask you the same question," he said.
Her eyes regarded the man warily, drinking in every small detail of him, following the movements he made as he fixed up his arm...all without even wincing once. Daemora didn't move; preferring to cling to the shadows and to keep her distance from him.
She was all out of juice anyway, but she was pretty sure she still had enough power left to make a hasty getaway should the need arise.
In response to the man's words, Daemora thought, liar! He can't simply be just passing through here. No one would go out of their way to simply pass through a place up north in the middle of nowhere. This village was so close to the mountains, terrain barely traversed by anybody for the sheer treacherous wilderness fought against anyone who attempted to make their way through.
But she would play this game.
"I too, am passing through," she said in a clipped tone. Bitter and without emotion, but openly hostile. She wanted to keep this short and sweet, and then after she recovered she wanted to cut his head off.
Jonah took that knowledge in, suspicious that she might be lying. He spat out a chunk of black demon blood that had been in his mouth for awhile.
Since he had been through an incredibly large amount of pain in the past several decades, it was easy for him to determine exactly which bones were broken. In this case, he counted three broken ribs on the left side of his rib cage. Those would take time to heal since his magic was expired.
"I see," he said, his hard expression never leaving him. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I'd better be going. It was fun while it lasted." He then walked in her direction, but he intended to walk past her and just leave. However, he didn't doubt that she would still try and kill him, so he was inwardly ready for any action she would make. While his fire magic was temporarily gone, his melee skill hadn't gotten rusty.
Daemora stared at the black blood the man had spat out, and smiled thinly.
"So...you're more than human then," she said in confirmation, not taking her eyes off the pool of black on the ground. She watched him begin to walk in her direction, and waited for an answer.
That man had better not be going in the same direction as her. She flexed her fingers, but stayed still, emanating neutrality.
Jonah stopped walking. So she had almost figured it out. She wasn't as stupid as she seemed. He turned his head and once again locked his dark, bottomless eyes with her's.
"In a sense, yes, I am more than human," he said coldly. "I am a tiefling...a human with demon blood coursing through his veins. So what?"
He remembered...his ancestors were pure demons, a cult who worshiped the Angel of Death, Azrael. But humans were also interbred...
"So what?"
"So nothing," she replied bluntly, giving him a 'you leave me alone and I'll leave you alone' look.
Spinning on her heel, she decided that screw mountains, if he was going in that direction. She would go back to town instead.
((Want to continue, or wrap this RP up?))
((Yeah, let's wrap this up. I wanna try something different.))
Jonah only nodded. He then decided to leave her alone. It was a good fight while it lasted. If they should ever cross paths again, he would kill her. Until then, though, he would still endlessly wander the world.
He carried on and wandered out of the village.
Daemora didn't stop walking until she got back to town. Man...that had been the biggest mistake and waste of time ever. And there was certainly no one who would've been able to pay her anyway. In a way she was glad that the other man had cleared out the place of demons- it had made that bit easier. And seeing as he was going a different way, she could totally claim all the credit.
Hmm, so there had been a plus side after all.
Heading back to her tavern, Daemora rehired her room, went up, and promptly fell asleep, exhausted from the night's work. And that was that.
((I've closed this RP now!))