Difference between revisions of "GoldenCat/TheLordofNightmares"

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Lord of Nightmares

Niremar: The demon walks out of the debris, his raiment in a conflagration of a thousand fears. Fear shines to the women in front of him... and yet each and every one resists it, holding fast against it. And yet, they had so much within them... so much they fought against. So... amusing.

The arrowlike ribbons in his raiment moved up and down like lambient flames, and Niremar smiled at them all... especially Kanti and Selina.

Tenderly.
As he understands.

"I have been asked only to remove Simma Siray from the game, Dark Angel. I would prefer not to fight any of you. Especially you, my cousin's bride."

"Step Aside."

Kanti: I don't sleep! The nightmares aren't supposed to be able to come to me!

Kanti trembled as she saw the thing, but she forced herself to stand firm against it. She needed to protect the mistress, protect Fiona, protect the goddess before her.

Selina de Windia: "Then you'll have to present my corpse to your cousin, Niremar." Dreamshard shimmers oddly in the light, reacting to the nightmares of the demon with those of its own. The dreams and nightmares of one-hundred fae, twisted into the single strand of gossamer that ran the length of the weapon.

Selina stands firm. "I'm sure it would pain him greatly, and if I killed you as well. Withdraw and perhaps neither will happen. This is not your war."

Niremar: "It became such on the moment I came from the Desert at the Parishioner's behalf." He says, with a bow... his eyes going past Selina for a moment... and to Kanti. And smiling. The conflagrant arrows move for war. He begins to feel the nightmares of the ladies in front of him. "I will make sure I will keep you alive, then. And bring you back to my cousin with me."

Kanti: I...don't have to fight him ... yet...

Kanti hesitates only a moment, then leaps in a wash of flames and steam, trailing fragrant smoke behind her as she flies towards the nearest nightmare, slicing down it's flank, the flames rolling off her as they hit the ground.

Leaping back she lowers the spear once more, cutting it twice as it charges past her.

Simma Siray: And I won't be so easy to get rid of, bastard.

Simma glares at Niremar, the feral grin never quite leaving her face. The fear plays over her, but she hardly shivers -- her body is taut as a bowstring, her mind singularly focused on the enemy at hand.

So--reinforcements, already? That Dark Angel woman Moon had such a thing for. And a red-skinned hottie with a spear. The latter would have brought more than just a glance of attention if circumstances were different. Perhaps later... because there WILL be a later.

A bare flick of the wrist, and Prick appears in her tightly clenched fist, a simple, straightforward instrument of pain in the hands of a goddess bent on revenge.

Selina de Windia: She remembers his cousin, recalls what happened...ten years ago. Unwillingly, but brushes the memories aside -- for now. They cannot interfere now, she will deal with him later. The rush of her own power ends the reflection as she leaps at the demon, weapon held out and blazing with neucrotic essence, leathery wings unfolding as she reaches the end of her dive.

"I'm not going back, but I can send you there before it's time!" The Windian snarls.

Niremar: "We will see about that... won't we?"

And then. he begins to burn. A great pyre appears about him... dark, dark, so dark at its center, becoming more and more like fire on its edges... and it burns. It burns like fear.

The fear seems ready to strike back at her... but instead, it recoils. And then, it is just its red claws, stopping Dreamshard between his fingers...

Simma Siray: Another easy flick of the wrist, outward, and Simma sends Prick flying towards the demon, flipping end over end to bury itself between his ribcage--or as damn close as her accuracy could allow! A split second after the blade's release, Simma's footsteps pound against the pavement, racing with the knife as it hurtles towards her foe. Lithe and compact as she is in body, the rage suffusing her snarling visage is larger than life -- teeth bared and gritted, silver-gilt eyes narrowed in concentration as she looms closer and closer to the very embodiment of fear.

Fear -- what did Simma truly fear? Defeat. And, more telling, what would arise after said defeat. She could not allow this abomination to roam free, raping the courage and confidence of all those who would stand and fight for the freedom of their home. And he was sent for HER. To eliminate her. He would get all the fight she had left in her, if he had any thought she would die for him!

Niremar: Niremar narrowly avoided the Dark Angel. But still, she hit home. Droplets of blood fell from the Lord of Nightmares.

He smiled.
It was time.

The flames exploded from him, covring all around. Black flames caught on the buildings around all of them... and it was night.

All went dark.
The flames had many hues, all of them dark.
Niremar smiled... and vanished

He was nowhere and everywhere. Not anywhere but in the back of their minds. On their fears.

Kanti blinks briefly as the nightmare disintergrates before her and suddenly Niremar is gone, and in his place is the Dark Angel, dressed in a gown of perfect black, her pale hair blowing slightly in the breeze, and she smiles at Kanti.

"I'm going to hurt you now, you don't mind do you?" she says, her voice liquid sin, taking a deceptively slow step towards her.

She steps closer ... and then Kanti sees her true form.
She grows taller, her skin becomeing the colour of moonlight, blood dripping from her mouth.
Her wings, great pinions of bone spread out to cover the street, void dripping from their length.
On her stomach, the tattoo, the scar pulses and twists with a sickly green light.
In one hand she carries a great scythe, it's blade wickedly serrated, the dead souls trapped within crying out in torment.
In the other a sword, longer and sharp and cold, eldritch energy boiling off it into the cool air, twisting space around it.
As she leaps, she roars, her black fanged maw spreading wide enough to swallow Kanti whole.

Selina sees him walking towards her... and then his image blurs. He becomes something else... shrouded in darkness, as he always is on her nightmares. So much taller than her. Wings spreading behind him, dripping crimson droplets. His tongue lashes out, and caresses her face. It trails down, and touches her scar. “I have come for you. I said I would, didn’t I?Mine”

She feels his strength on her. Before he even comes. Stopping her from moving as she feels all that strength on her body again... handling her like a doll... he is coming for her, and yet on her midn he already has her, like he always does, like a little doll in the hands of a giant.

And as always it is on her nightmares, she loves it. Every sensation that gives.

Simma sees Niremar for a moment... he walks towards her... and flames drip on his wake. And each and every one is one of the Silver Queens. A trail behind him... a trail of their bloodied bodies. And her, in his arms. Chained. Defeated.

He is not Niremar anymore. He is Iron Tears. Her father. The Faceless God, staring at her, unforgiving like he never was... only in her nightmares. Looking down at her defeated self. “Time to end this. You are at least worth the effort of destroying.” He said as he raised the hammer.

Kanti: I'm going to hurt you now, you don't mind do you?

Kanti's heart skips a beat as she hears those words and she nods, letting the dark angel stalk closer.

"No, my lady. You can hurt me, I want you to hurt me." she says softly but with heat, her voice carrying across the street in the silence of Niremar's departure.

The dark angel changes.

Kanti's eyes widen in fear as she sees the vision from her nightmares bearing down on her, desperately channeling her magic for the dark angel's mercy.

"Please ...no!....not so much! I-I....can't take that dark angel...please..!!." her voice is raw with fear as she cries out, raising the spear to parry the sword and the scythe and her brutal maw, desperately trying to scrabble back away from the dark angel.

Selina de Windia: Selina's pupils slit to the barest lines, then expand wide as the demon disappears and a new demon appears in his place.

One she knows all too well. The old feelings come back, of terror and helplessness. Of being fate's play-thing again, dwarfed by forces greater than her, impotently raising the very weapon she'd had with her then, to her defense now.

The terror of the north falls back, her thin-daiklave thrumming as it senses the energies the demon is giving out, feels its mistress' fear. Her voice is full of the emotion, but a bestial, enraged growl lurks beneath the words. "I'll kill you this time! Don't touch me, not again not again NOT AGAIN!"

She dodges back in a blur of darkened movement, ready to parry any of the bastard's strikes that manage to get through.

• Simma Siray hisses angrily as Prick ricochets harmlessly away from her target. Her fist is already raised as she calls the glittering knife back into her grasp... already ready for the downstroke, eager for the blade to rend flesh, one slash for every atrocity: for daring to wreck her turf, for terrorizing her girls, for being so unbelievably troublesome to BEAT...
  
  But before her arm can even dare to twitch, darkness falls like a curtain between them. Obscuring the demon from view. And when the folds of inky black part once more... Flames. Bodies. Blood. The Queens--strewn about like chaff. Her molten silver-gold eyes widen momentarily, so incredulous and seething with helpless, all-consuming fury that she does not notice, for the moment, the chains binding her, humiliating her, the unforgiving symbol of her utter defeat at the hands of...
  
  Iron Tears stares down at her. Mercilessly. Dispassionately. His grim expression one of cold resignation of her failures. The hammer rises to strike her down.
  
  Simma throws her head back, letting loose a hoarse, indignant cry of rage and denial.
  
  I won't accept it! I WILL NOT! This is not real this is not real this is NOT... REAL!
  
  Sidestepping what little she can of the impact, she shifts her short, menacing blade to meet the much larger blunt, striking it aside in a shower of sparks and the sheer weight of her determination. If her crazy, hell-bent, high-on-adrenaline life on the streets has taught her one thing, it's that size -- isn't -- everything! **

Selina de Windia: I won't let it happen again...

She'd not used it since the battle against the Hierophant and Vestal, but the presence of such a...being, close by, makes it call to Selina. Taloned fingers grip Dreamshard tighter, and the air about it begins to shimmer, than distort. He'd never felt her sting, but his cousin would. And hopefully, it would damage him quite severely.

Selina brings the sword up in front of her, and with a furious push of will and a burning sensation, releases chaos upon the beast. It comes into being about and inside him, accompanied by the screaming voices emitting from the sword, a multitude of tongues crying for his destruction. The caste mark on Selina's forehead bleeds a bit more redly for that moment, vibrant fluid of life replacing the black blood of death, then it darkens once more.

Kanti: Kanti coughs up blood on the street as the dark angel cuts her with the rapier, guts her with the scythe then takes a bite out of her arm, staggering backwards as the demon's nightmares open up real wounds on her flesh.

She collapses partially, holding herself up with the butt of her spear. So much pain...

...so easy to just let yourself slip away....wouldn't it?
It wouldn't hurt if you passed out...

No!

Fiona needs me.
Moon needs me.
mistress needs me.

I cannot fail them.

... don't make me fail them ...

Kanti's broken, hollow eyes flash briefly with defiance, and she pushes herself up, standing free, the chained phoenix burning above her screeching out into the night. The pain abates as the fires burn about her and through her, purifying, warming, uplifting. The wounds fade from Kanti's conciousnessness, still there, still a dull ache pervading her body but no longer crippling, no longer shackling her.

She runs at him then, irises blossoming below her feet, burning up in the flames of her passage.

A simple strike.
A pure strike.
A strike for Simma.
A strike for the boil.
A strike for mistress.

Then she runs on, driving her spear through the nightmare, pinning it to the building.

Nightmares: The Nightmare gets pinned to a building... and it cries out, hurt, hurt, hurt... and yet, it survives... looking at Niremar... looking at Kanti... and then, the best of fears fades in a bonfire, exploding in front of Kanti, inflaming the building it had been pinned to and basking Kanti in harmless flames as the spirit runs....

Simma Siray: This fucker is nuts. NUTS! These chicks are hardcore -- but he's takin' the hits and giving back in spades. Damnit. DAMN IT!

Simma howls an ululating battle cry and lunges forward, lashing out with Prick. Once. Twice. The first slash arcing upward to rip at Iron -- no, the demon, the demon's cursed, hated face! The second to plunge downwards, to savage the bastard's chest! She hardly expects them to hit -- but she rails on him anyway, pouring torrents of frustrated, desperate rage into each blow, futile as they may be, harmless as they may prove!

As Simma withdraws her arm from the second blow, she leaps back with the momentum, furiously backpedaling out of arm's length, and -- still moving, still gaining distance, aims and hurls Prick straight and true towards his neck!

Niremar: They were good.
Really, really good.

Chaos swirled on his belly, and he felt it eating him away. Chaos, possibility, insanity... so unlike his nightmares, so alike it. And yet, it hurt. So sweet, the pain. The Terrestrial almost got to him, as well. He needed to recover his defenses. He had to. He focused for a moment, and the flames begun to burn within him once again. The conflagrant arrows curled around him, defensively. He would not fall.

Not before claiming his prize. The prize that was in front of him.

It is one quick movement to stumble back for a moment, then shoot his arm foward, all of a momentum towards Simma... to rend her godly flesh, and be done.

• Simma Siray smirks as Niremar lunges forward purposefully, raking at her with an outstretched arm.

"Oh, so it's me you want, eh? Come on n' catch me, then!"

She is still several yards in front of him, and gaining distance, as he moves. She does not slow her own pace, but increases it--springing suddenly off her feet after two more steps, somersaulting backwards with the momentum as his reach comes menacingly close, yearning to rend her sensitive flesh. For a breathless moment she is suspended completely in air, her hands arcing back to catch the ground, her heels kicking the air before her knees tuck in and her body twists aside...

• And their Dance continues, parry, ripostes, strikes, burning all around them, without victor for the time being, even as Simma and Kanti lay hurt and bleeding. But their dance continues as the flames rise higher and higher... and then...
  
  ...Out of the smoke, they come.
  Whistling through the air, the noise of air trying desperately to get out... cutting it...
  Selina and Kanti barely have time to look up, to see it coming as rain.
  
  Five... ten... twenty knives, all coming straight to their hearts, to their heads!
  
  And stopping each and every one of them.
  
  All stpping in the ice. In the mist that clung to their bodies through all that time. Fiona smiles. Even in the middle of the fear, where she hid trying to not remember what Mistress did to her... she smiles. She had been useful.
  
  Thirteen had come to an immaculately powerful Selina, and four went through the ice, only to hit her shield of air. Seven came to a wounded, slower Kanti, but all of them hit the ice.Fiona made one gesture, and the mists broke like ice, sending twenty iron knives hitting against the burning walls.
  
  Above the burning buildings, amidst the smoke, the shadows and the night, they appeared. Eight of them, four on each side. Like Selina had fought on Spire.
  
  Iron Shades.
  
  Raitons begun to fly through the air, forming a body... becoming... something... a figure. They exploded, and there was, ruined wings of metal feathers, reaper daiklave on hand.
  
  Black Avian.
  
  "Take care of Siray, Niremar. I have a score to settle with Windia's newest assassin legend. To make her respect the old ones."

Jokun: Out of the smoke... comes a skin so fair. One that rarely ever sees the sun. One of depths of the earth....

He comes out of the razed ground, a sword of gemstones on hand. He had been searching for his mistress.

He had to serve, until the moment came she released him. And it had not.

Coming out of the smoke, out of the earth, close to his winged mistress, he appears.... turning to her in obedience. "I have returned, my mistress. How shall I serve?"

Kanti: Kanti whirls as the ghosts appear all around her, as the flames of the departed nightmare wash over her, the knives falling from the sky as she notices their presence.

...Fiona! thank you!

....ghosts....

Kanti straightens herself, flames lapping around her, insense swirling about her, then faces the ghost that appears in the center.

"Y...you will not harm her, rust winged ghost ... y-you shall pass on." Kanti's voice trembles somewhat, and her wounds are visble on her body, but her stance is resolute, and she burns.

Exceedingly Sublime Opal: Opal wasn't one of the Exalted.
She did not inherit a legacy that made demons pause at her coming, or made gods sigh in relief at her passing.

Even though this wasn't the case, her footfalls caused gentle booms. Sounds that could be heard in one's chest more than in ones ears. The vibration steadily grew louder, puddles on the cold stones rippling with each one.
The smoke from the myrad conflicts flaring all over the city obscured the view of her for the briefest of moments, until she strode into view...

It was a goodly size, as large as a two story building, a legacy from when the Exalted battled creatures who's size dwarf cities. Gleaming white jade, immaculately clean dispite the grime of the Boil, surprisingly decorated for one of its more common design. It radiated a stoic power, the quiet strength of the mountain from which it was hewed. It was all these things, but its name alone invoked its purpose...

Warstrider

• Simma Siray completes her backflip, landing solidly on her feet--and openly gawks. Knives flying from who knew where, stopped in their unerring flight by a sudden, swirling mist... More of them?! DAMNIT!
  
  "What the fuck's up with THIS?" the Wild Child snaps furiously, whirling towards the Dark Angel and Kanti in turn. "How many enemies do you HAVE?!" she rants uselessly, throwing her hands up in the air. An eyeblink later, Prick recoalesces in one outstreched hand, the wiry fingers wrapping instinctively around the familiar hilt. And with a shout of stubborn, headstrong determination, her own divine defenses replenish, a burst of adrenaline and survival instinct coursing like fire through her veins.
  
  Her eyes are a molten whirlpool of silver and gold as she turns her gaze to Niremar once more. And around them, the knives rain harmlessly to the ground, the clatter quickly drowned out by the approach of the massive beast of jade approaching from down the street...
  
  ...Fuck, knives! The more the better!
  
  Keeping an eye on her adversary, Simma nimbly snatches the nearest blades up from the ground, gathering them into her free hand.

Selina de Windia: Even as her immaterial strike against the demon diminishes, even as the knives turn against the ice and her barrier of wind, even as all these things happen, Selina's attention shifts from the wounded demon...and turns to Black Avian, empty anima burning about her, her face streaked with dark blood tears from her weeping, burning caste mark. The growl is audible, vibrates through the air and ground about her. "You."

The empty hand tightens, making cracking noises from the bones straining at the behest of muscle. "Twice now, and I beat you back every time."

Her fury grows, the fear Niremar put to her dissolving before it like a wall of wyld before raw oblivion. "Those with the beast leashed. Now, you will fare worse."

Her voice grows in offended pride, recalling a bit of the noblewoman she was at the beginning, and still claimed to be as she commands her elemental. The de Windias, as it was oft forgotten in times of peace, were guards to the royals. "Protect and assist Simma and my two girls. I have damaged the demon. This ghost -- I will attend to him."

• All around them, fire.
  
  A building taken by flames, two demons consumed by the flames pouring out of Kanti, as a the Tamer of Burning Mares stands before them, sweat and blood running from all in the fight...
  
  All around them, Death.
  
  Four of the Iron Shades stand on the rooftops, ready to fall over them, and Black Avian looks down from above, all ready to rain death upon them...
  
  All around them, hope.
  
  As a Elemental appears, a towering colossus with him, more come to help the goddess of the Boil's gangs..

Exceedingly Sublime Opal: The Warstrider groaned as, inside, Opal brought her huge weapon to bare, the grim of the soot in the air covering its white, gleaming surface. The passive face of the warstriders mask faced the demon of fear, and with a speed belying its great size, the Serpent-Striking Staff swept in like a wheat thresher, its arm causing a small hurricane as it broke the air with such speed and power.

Unfortunately, of course, wheat doesn't have legs and a will to dodge with them.

Kanti: Kanti ignores the ghosts the moment, and turns once more to the nightmares. Blood runs from the many cuts the dark angel inflicted on her body, the nightmares made real. A cough brings up a little more blood, and then she focuses again, on the Lord of Nightmares.

She grips the Fragrant Incense Spear tighter, spinning it alittle in her hands to move off the blood slicked patches, and then she starts a slow run, blossoms blooming beneath her feet on the cold and shattered cobblestones. The spear sweeps out fragrance ladden arcs in the air as it cuts through the flames blooming around her.

As she strikes, Kanti changes, and so does Niremar.
Kanti briefly lives her past and futres lives as Niremar lives her present nightmares.

Niremar: The Spear hurt him, hurling him back in one of the Whorehouses.

It collaped around the demon, falling all over, the scent of perfume and liquor filling the air as he set both aflame.

It hurts.

It Hurts

A little more, and the Terrestrial would get under him... a little more....

That would not do. The lord of nightmare was fear, and she was ripe with it. He would not fall to her. He could not.

And Simma... Siray Simma.

He jumps then... out of the wreckage, and towards his prey. The conflagrant arrows about his raiment twisting to the sides and striking at the buildings around them... driving them backwards into the street, the pieces of the buildings raining down on Kanti, Simma and the Colossus next to him... obscuring their vision with debris and dust, and as he comes for them, it was not as himself.

Black Feathers come towards Kanti, with a sharp, lighting edge and a sadistic smile.

Despair comes towards Simma, her Silver Queens jumping towards her with iron knives in hand...

A strike to his Prey, a strike to his nemesis, as he grits his teeth and gives them fear!

Through their fear, he strikes unseen. He is fear, and their fear will validate him.

An as long as they fear, he will not fall.

Kanti: Kanti's relief as she sends the Lord of Nightmares hurtling back away from her is shortlived as he pulls himself from the wreckage, she blinks as the rubble and the flmaes from the whorehouse wash over her, and then suddenly Avian swoops at her, in blur.

The speed with which he advances leaves no room for pleas of words, and so it is with her magic she implores, calling out for Creation to witness this assult on her person, shameing the assasin even as she tries to force her fear addled brain to ward his strikes with her spear, to throw her aside in a wash of flames.

Above her, the chained garda bird cries mournfully.

Simma Siray: "Ha-HA." Simma's face ripples with a triumphant grin of approval as she straightens, a brace of newly-harvested knives arrayed in a razor-sharp fan between the knuckles of each hand.

She looks up -- to see the hazy forms of her Queens rushing towards her with knives bared. The grin slips. Her lips curl in an indignant scowl, her brows starkly grooved. Anger flashes through her. These... what the fuck ARE these? Fakes. Caricatures. They would never... ! Yet the faces are so familiar -- girls she had hand-picked and raised for this life. Girls with whom she had shared both pleasure and pain, defied the odds of survival at every turn, knocked back a drink or ten at the end of the day. Tough as nails as she may be, her heart still loved them as a mentor would. As a mother would. They were part of the heart and soul of the Boil for her. Her progeny.

But even if her own would turn against her, she would not, could not falter. The overwhelming urge for survival comes before all else. The urge that became an integral part of her being, that had allowed her with courage and tenacity to thrive on streets that would eat any other waif of a girl alive. Defying her mind's hesitation, her body reacts as the knives bear down upon her -- jerking away from the path of the blow as her hands fling up protectively to catch it between the knives gripped by her knuckles.

Niremar: His crimson claws come, and rend through the Goddess' body. Almost, almost, to the end, but not yet.

He finally lands, looking at all the women and the elemental in front of him... blood from goddess and dragoness dripping from his claws.

"It is unfortunate that I have to kill you. If it was for me, I would leave such a masterpiece of fear alive, Sesus Kanti. I would again ask that you stand aside, for I am ready to once again bring the full fear upon you."

"I only need to kill Simma Siray, and no other."

Kanti: Kanti looks up at the Lord of Nightmares and she trembles.She had avoided the rage fueled swipe but only just, Avian having come far to close to opening up more of her skin.

The full fear .... ?

he will take me away to the nightmare realm once more?

No!
No!!

"N-No! I will not let you harm her! I will not let you touch her! I will protect her!"

Kanti looks up at the lord of nightmares, and she trembles, but she does not run. She does not step aside.

Simma Siray: Simma staggers back as the Queens' knives slip past her meager defenses, tearing deep into her flesh. Fresh blood courses down the corner of her lips as she regains her bearing. She coughs, sending more gouts of red splashing to the rubble at her feet.

Still...too fragile. Ugh. Impatiently, she spits the rest of the blood, then wipes hard at her mouth with the back of her wrist. You'd think divinity'd give me a fightin' chance... but... hah.

Her silver-gilt eyes flicker towards Kanti -- at least as wrecked up as she is, and much more frightened from the look on her face, but still defiant, still standing her ground with every ounce of determination she has remaining.

Good girl. She's got spunk. Well, so do I. I'm what spunk's made out of.

The goddess tosses Prick into the air with an easy flick of the wrist, catching the hilt effortlessly between her bared teeth. Nothing else for her to do but try at what she does best. Whatever good it may do -- it's something. And that's better than lying down and accepting one's fate is to die.

With a grunt of effort, Simma flings both arms forward, releasing a blade from each hand. The knives spin outward in perfectly symmetrical arcs, whirring rhythmically through the air as their paths curve gradually inward, intersecting crosswise towards Niremar's body. In the space of their unerring flight, she twists her head -- her whole wiry frame -- to the side, and whips it back towards him with a sharp, calculated jerk, unclenching her jaw on Prick at the apex of her momentum. Her trusty knife hurtles along an arrow-straight path exactly between the two arcs, timed so that all three knives strike as one.

Three knives, one heart... and one goal. The Three-Pronged Trick Shot.

Niremar: The arrows in his raiment flash to life, but they fail to touch the thrower.

However, in the middle of the flames of his raiment, he is not there for the knives to pick. Not there... except for one. That touches his heart, exactly where Kanti had weakened his armor...

... and fails to penetrate.

"Not now."

Iron Shades: On the roof, each of the Iron Shades unsheathes a slim, curved blade. Reaper Daiklaves, each and every one. Four of them for four Underworld assassins. As one, all eight of them fall... landing close to Kanti, Fiona and Simma.

Surrounding them in a circle of death...

Jokun: The Jokun closes his obsidian eyes, holding the jewel sword in front of him.

He saw hthe creature in front of him, his spiritual superior in every respect.

Yet, a goddess and a dragoness fought with him... and he had to try. His Mistress had commanded him to strike, and he would. For her.

Earth wavers around him as he rushes towards Niremar, his blade sinking in the ground, then coming from within it, spilling the cobblestones of the road in the demon's face, hiding the gem edge behind it as he cuts....

Niremar: And he strikes home. Where the spear had hit before, where the knife had hit before.... he goes through, cracking the armor and making the blood of the Tamer of Burning Mares spill all over the Elemental's face...

Kanti broken all his defenses... and now, he was hurt, hurt in a way he had not been hurt in centuries.

The lord of fear screamed.

Exceedingly Sublime Opal: She halts her violence against the demon, even though continued force might be prudent... she began to trace a slow pattern with her hands, the giant suit of armor gently mimicing her motions perfectly, in a grace that seemed both surreal and unnatural for a thing that size.

Her first two fingers together, the tips began to glow gently, and in their wake, comtrails of Essence glowed. The hands flowed to make an intricate and complex sigil in midair, when suddenly... she was done... and the symbol pulsed with riven power. A spherical field of energy lept around Kanti, Selina, Fiona, and herself, as well as encompassing the beliguered Goddess and the noble Elemental, sending tinglings over their skin as the field of energy washed over them as it grew from the sigil.

Kanti: The scream tears through Kanti, and she takes a step back from the Lord of Nightmares before she steadies herself once more, knuckles whitening as she grips the spear. Flames dance behind her scars on her skin as more flames billow around her, insense flooding off the spear now the heat had truely caught it.

I will protect Fiona.
I will protect Simma.
I will do as mistress bade me.

The spear flashes in Kanti's hands as she flickers into a different part of the cycle of life in a desperate dance to hurt Nirrmar, to end his reign of fear.

Dark hair.
Dark eyes.
Olive skin.
No scars.
No nightmares.

The nightmares have yet to find the nine year old Kanti, and her blows fall on him with all the power of Creation because of it.

Niremar: So young.

So pure, so innocent.

A little dynast girl, willful, strong...

A little dynast girl, with the world before her, hers' to take.

A little dynast girl, who knows no fear.

At least, none Niremar can understand. None Niremar can reflect off the soul of the current Kanti. And nothing he places in his path can faze her. Her very existence... looking at his soul... denies him.

She does not fear, she does not validate him.

And that is what does it to him.

His corporeal form is destroyed in a conflagration that can be seen throughout the Boil. The fears of all the dead in the Boil jump from him as burning mares, as fire, and the purity of a child's courage burns his body away, in flames that would wash over all of the girls if not for the ward.

The Tamer of Burning Mares has fallen.

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