GoldenCat/EarthandSky
- - Back to Fourth Movement
- - Back to A Dance of Angels
Red Earth, Dark Sky
In the dirty streets...
Moon runs through the rooftops, through deserted streets, through some with people running... towards the Pack. Atop the Crimson Camelia, a stablishment very reputable for exotic women and exotic practices, where Sarah had even taken a few... tricks, he sees the pack.
And what a sight.
Part of it helping evacuate the girls on the Camelia, its bouncers joining the Pack... as the other half fought on the street. The Boil was always on their side.
The narrow streets let even part of a gang like the pack hold quite an advantage - club in hand, Kinny covered most of it alone, bashing the head of one of the ghosts in front of him... their corpus fading in snowflakes. They were fighting. And despite many injuries... they were doing damn well! Hannah was at his side, and iron knuckles on her hand... the girl knew how to punch, and somehow, as always, the long white hair never got on her way... Four of them on that end of the street, five ghosts... four now... they were doing damn well.
Seventh Moon: Fucking hell
They were alright. Crouched into the roof top, leaning out for a better view with a hand gripped to the edge, Moon stopped a moment to take that in, a single breath spared in relief. His gang was alright.
Now it was time to make sure they fucking stayed that way.
Moon jumped, legs bending the impact as he hit the street behind the ghostly soldiers. His arms snagged out before any of them had time to notice, hooking the ankles of one and yanking it's feat out from under it, smashing its face into the street.
"Hey Kinnnnay!" He grinned over a row of shoulders at the other punk as he rose. "Hows it hangin' man?"
Moon settled a hand over one of the shoulders, yanking it's owner around to face a pair of burning silver eyes. He smiled politely into it's face, blood from his own wounds still heavy on his breath as it washed over the ghost. "That's my gang you're fuckin' with, shitbag."
Glowing, throbbing in baneful silver fire, his fist arched through the air and crashed into it's head with a star burst of white hot sparks. "And no one"
Leaning in with the blow, he held on to the ghost and refused to let it, holding it in place for a back-handed slap across the check as he shifted his weight back again. "Fuck's with my gang"
The motion of his swing smacking his elbow back into the chest of another and sending it sprawling back over the body on the ground near by. Tightening his grasp on the ghostly soldier, he twisted at the waist and pulled the undead creature into the air above him. Letting his body cave downwards to the ground as the spirit flailed through the air above him. Feet over it's head, the ghost hung in the air for an instant at the end of Moon's fist, long enough to stare perplexed at the rest of the back, then blurred into a gray-black lightening bolt as the Lunar brought it whipping down. Three ghostly forms collided, cracking paving stones and sending mortar puffing into the air.
Lifting his head, Moon smirked at the three ghosts. "Without me."
- The third ghost falls to the wall, the one behind turning with a sword in hand, making an arc towards Moon....
Seventh Moon: Moon's head tips to the side towards the motion, the gleam of the flashing blade reflecting back in his eyes.
Bull shit. He was tired of fuckers stabling him in the back.
Muscles coiling into a tightly twisted bunch, Essence shivers them into tautness, then bursts them into swift release. The heel of his boot snapping backwards to catch the handle of the sword. The blade sang as it collided with the steel-reinforced leather and was sent gliding back towards the face of the ghost soldier who wielded it.
Kinny: ... and as the blade came back, it went through the ghost's eye socket, his head exploding with ephemeral blood... a body wrapped together by willpower vanishing as it falls to the ground...
"Boss!" Kinny calls, rising the club and smirking his unshaven face, "Man, I missed ya! Where the fuck did you vanish to?" The mace came down at the head of the ghost Moon had slammed into the wall, and he did not stop the walk as he went and patted Moon on the shoulder, the ghostly body sliding off the wall... "And where are the girls, man? Figures we get your ugly mug to help and not the pretties, Rusty hog them much?"
Hanna: She had punched one so hard he had came to the wall. She had punched again, again and again, furiously, until it her hand hit the wall. Even her calloused hand hurt now, but still she turned, blood boiling, waiting for more. But there nothing left.
"Buh." She pouted. "Shoulda known, you show up, boss, things get way too easy!"
One of the youngest packgirls - her body said 20s, her age was more like 15 - Hanna was nothing if not eager. She passed a hand on her silverly hair, walking foward, "Yeah, yeah, where is the gutter queen? Too good fer us now?"
Seventh Moon: "They took off when they heard we were comin' ta see your hairy ass Kin," Moon answered as he rose, patting dirt of his pants. "Thought they'd go hang a bit with Simma, seeing hows she's damn lonely with the Queens all screamin' and runnin' down the street, y'know?"
With a huff, Moon lifted his gaze to meet his seconds eyes. Was kind of strange to hear Kinny's voice again. They'd only spoke this morning, but that had been in another world entirely. Kinny looked different. Not just the big damn club or the soot on his face. There was a fever in his eyes and a glow to his skin. Looked almost like he'd just crawled out of bed with something nice. Had nothing to do with rolling though.
He gave the other man a playful slap on the head, then turned to Hanna. She looked the same. Dirt and fire. Blood soiling the tips of her too-white hair, he gave her smile and brushed a finger across her brow to move it. Kinda funny to see her like this somewhere out of bed. Funny to see any of the Pack this worked up for something that wasn't sex or drugs or drinking. Maybe it was just the violence. Maybe they actually believed what they were doing was right
He shook his head, then jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "She had shit ta take care of darlin'. While you assholes were takin' your sweet time here, the Queens been hurtin'. Saw 'um runnin' like hell itself was after 'um."
Kinny: "... the silver bitches are screaming, man? The fuck?" Kinny cleaned some of the ghostly blood from his face. More like an ooze... "We had ta take some reeeaaallly weird stuff, but the Pack didn't run, man. Took a fucking LION on Violet Smoke! It was making all stuff from the Lover burn, man."
"It's like it hated it just cause we prayed ta it."
Hanna: "Whaaa? Let's go help them, damn it!"
She bit her lip, fists clenching again, "Some of those bitches are my friends!" And they were. Hanna had at one time almost had a pick on which of the gangs to choose. She had picked the Pack over the Silver Queens... even though her hair color would likely have made the girl a mascot, before the developed a one-year spurt to her current figure and before Bright Stream came in. But she had decided on the pack.
"And ain't that right. Kinnay's calling himself the Lionslayer now!" She patted his back a little too hard, but already looking foward like a huntress, "Sounds better than ghost for sure"
Seventh Moon: With a low whistle at Kinnys accounting, Moon shook his head. That explained why the place looked so damn trashed. "This shit's kinda fucked up, ain't it man? Ever thought you'd be in a rumble like this?"
He wanted to tell them that it made him proud they didn't run. He wanted to slap Kinny on the shoulder and crush the fucker to his chest. But you just didn't do that kinda thing here. Instead he just shook his head again. "Fuckin' lions blowing up statues and goddamn black things stabbin' my ass and shit? Wanna know what's fucked up even more though? We ain't even half done yet."
"Lionslayer?" Moon laughed at Hanna's description. "Sheeyit man. Don't expect me ta start callin' you that. I ain't seen you slay shit."
Trailing off, he looked back down the street a moment, off in the direction he had seen the Queens. Turning back, he looked over at Hanna, glaring at him expectantly. She'd picked him, picked the Pack, over a gang that would have damn near idolized her. Over a goddess who would have pampered her ass and rolled her till she was blue. Moon never did understand why, just knew she was good to have around.
He looked past her to the rest of the Pack, finishing getting the working girls out or watching the three of them cautiously. He'd be damned if he really knew why half of them tailed him around. All this time, after he fucked up uniting the gangs, he hadn't done shit with them but drink hard and fuck. Kinda the way things went on the street. But now they had a chance to be something a little more than punks again. All of them. And maybe that was why they were all glowing.
Finally, he looked at Kinny and he grinned slightly. "What do ya say man? Hanna says we oughta go give those bitches a hand. Think we're up to makin' a little more noise?"
Kinny: "Count me in, man. Will be nice ta have the Silver Bitches owe me. And we find any more o' them lions, and I'll show ya what I did to the last one." He grins, patting Moon, getting his bandanna right on his dirty blonde hair and getting a vicious look on his face. He was ready to bash some more skulls in. For Moon. For the Boil. For all he had ever known.
Somehow, it felt so much better than for drugs, drinks, sex and thrill..
Hanna: "What the fuck we waitin' then? Come on!" Hanna patted Moon and ran foward... up to the corner, with abandon.
And reaching the corner, Moon could just see something coming for her. Something bladed and heavy hitting her shoulder... blood spurting everywhere... and her falling down, through the square of Moon's field of vision in the corner, only her legs on the ground... twitching.
Seventh Moon: No.
He had turned to watch her run, shaking his head, ready to shout for her to wait for them.
No.
It was a flash of edged black. A shadow with weight. He didn't even realize what it was at first, even as he stood and watched it come crashing down on her.
No.
He was moving like stone, moving far too late, her name on his lips. Blood was something he was use to seeing and it alone brought no shock, only slow registration of what he was seeing. It was like watching someone stomp an overripe fruit. A cloud of crimson squirted into the air, splashed the walls, the ground, him.
No.
He was standing over her before she even hit the ground. Too slow to even catch her, to break her fall, but fast enough to grab her afterwards and yank her away from whatever had struck her down.
"KINNY!" he screamed back, wondering where the others were. Not even yet realizing his body had become a blur ahead of theirs and his caste mark had turned into a blinding third eye upon his brow. He ripped the bandana from his head and clasped it over over her wound, holding down tight to try to stop the bleeding.
"Hang on darling, hang on..." he whispered to her, dragging her back down the street by inches, his eyes darting back and forth from the blood swelling up around his hand to the street ahead for any sign of what had done this. "Kinny! Someone! Fuck, come take her you assholes!"
- Moon tried, but the bleeding wouldn't stop. The Pack were running to him, not fast enough, never fast enough....
And as Moon looked down the street... he saw it. Mask of White Jade over the embalmed body. Skeletal Limbs above the silverly Plate-And-Chain. An undifferentiated white, a cold silver. Colors of the Underworld in the flesh of the dead captain. His voice like rattling chains of soulsteel of the endless line of ghosts walking towards the Mouth of the Void... a paladin of a dark faith.
Hollow Edge stood down the street, two writhing masses of plasmic flesh about him, moving by whispers, countless tendrils of undifferentiated white coming from them as they grasped great axes.
"Seventh Moon. I did not think I would be so lucky."
Kinny had gotten there then. As had the others. He saw it, and Moon could just feel him address them. "Leave your Lunar leader. Run, run, run. There is nothing that can be won fighting the Abyss. The Abyss will come. Run, run, run to the Boy's field, run to your destiny. Do it and be ready for your fate. If I have to send you there, it will be a much harsher one."
Kinny: "Hanna!"
It happenned too fast.
She fell. Moon was a blur. By the time Kinny. reached Moon, the silver corpse was speaking. Saying those things. Oh, he knew those things. Be a corpse telling him to go to the underworld, be a garrisson soldier telling him to run away, to stay still, to bend to cleaning season. They were all alike.
A moment to see if Hanna was safe. She wasn't. Bleeding... badly. The hatchet bit deep within her shoulder, and Moon's bandana wasn't helping.... The 'Lionslayer' could just grasp the club a god's lieutenant had given him earlier the same day, and narrow his eyes at the corpse. "Fuck you." was all he could say. "Ya hurt Hanna, you pay".
'Hanna: Hanna looked up, seeing Moon... shining, shining, shining so brightly... she smiled, and she felt the blood coming out her mouth, the taste of iron in it. A taste she knew so well...
It hurt. The axe bit deep on her shoulder, and she had seen people walk from those injuries... changed. She knew that. She had felt worse pains, but she could feel how... how deep it bit.
But yet, she managed a smile to Moon. "Boss... fuck... that hurt..." She begun to try and get up, as others came to her side... "I..... fuck you, you rotting bastard. We can still kick... the crap out of you... all!"
.: "Easy, Hanna, easy..." Calin said, ripping part of his shirt, "Bandanna?!? Boss, Dat dun hold a fucking scratch, much less this! Gotta do it like..." He held the ripped shirt against Hanna's shoulder, asking her to forgive him... "... this! " He said as he held it fast, biting deep to close the wound!
Seventh Moon: He was pulling Hanna to her feet as Hollow Edge came around the corner, clutching her to him tighter. This thing. This goddamn piece of shit had done this. It hurt Hanna. Hurt his gang!
A shudder ran through the air, a ripple of frost so cold with malice it burned. Hanna shivered against him. The ground slicked with webs of rime through the cracks.
And over head, the hound coalesced into view. as wounded as before, puffing cloud of frozen breath, dripping silver blood from it's open chest. silver-white motes of flame crackling in it's eyes.
He smiled tightly at Hanna's words and shook his head at her. "Naw darlin'. You're sitting this one out"
Before she could protest, Moon lifted her up and passed Hanna back quickly to Calin who came running up behind him. "Keep her back, man"
Then, his eyes were all for Hollow Edge and nothing but hatred.
"You hurt my gang, fucker." He snarled. A step closed, the icy ground crunching under foot. Moon and the hound above him breathed as one, labored breaths of pain and anger. Gritting his teeth tightly, he raised a gloved hand a slowly curled his finger in a beckoning motion. Calling the undead bastard to him. "Why don't you come over. We'll show you all the fuck about harsh fates."
Hollow Edge: "Very well, then. You made your choice."
The paladin makes a gesture in front of him. A gesture of prayer. Of consecration. "I will send your souls tro paradise. To the Underworld, where you will understand. And help others pray to our lord. I pray that they do go to paradise, and not to eternal death in Heaven."
As soon as the movement is done, he lunges foward... moving like something unreal. He vanishes on every step, becoming a shadow on the corner of the mind's eye, a step on gutter's water, vanishing and appearing, lunging closer every time... and closer....
The spectres trail undifferentiated whispers towards the Pack, their tendrils holding them aloft and propelling them in the air, the great poleaxes in their hands and coming towards the Pack...
”Amen!”
Seventh Moon: "Aw shut up. Tired of listenin' to you fuckers preach." Moon answered to Hollow's speech, spitting again onto the ground. The Lunar made a gesture in front of himself as well. A gesture of dismissal. One finger raised in the middle of four others. The hound above him gashed it's teeth and huffed, it's half-face grinning.
Moon shouted into the attack, drawing equal cries of defiance from the Pack behind him. Out ahead before the rest could even begin to move, the Lunar hunched low into a run, shoulder out before him like a ram, fist drawn back to strike. Head to head, he ran to meet the undead monster, watching it flicker in and out of existence, and as it vanished again Moon's charge pulled suddenly to the side. He dove for the wall of the whorehouse beside him, smashfists igniting into iridescent paws. First swing, and wood gouged from the wall, spraying across the street in a hail of splinters and pebbles. Second swing hit stone and crushed it to powder. Third swing blasted through wood again and the entire building began to groan. Moon plowed his fist through the last vein of stone supporting the structure and jumped clear as it's shadow began to grow long across the street, debre raining down as it began to fall onto it's side and engulf Hollow Edge as he flashed back into Creation.
- Moon hits... and, with supernatural speed, is not there as it begins to fall.
But they are. Hollow Edge has a moment to look upwards... and then everything comes crashing down upon them. All the sighs, all the smiles, all the laughs, all the moans... a life of pleasure and pain comes crashing down over their heads... and, a moment later, only debris and dust are in front of the pack.
Kinny: Kinny wipes the dust off his face, and grins, "Maaann. You never leave us any fun!"
Seventh Moon: Holy fuck. That actually worked.
Moon laughs in answer Kinny and leans back against the building beside the one he just toppled. He runs a hand through his hair and shakes out bits of wood and stone-dust, then deliberately flicks a pebble off his shoulder onto the pile of debris. "Eh, I just let 'um off easy. Figured no one oughta get stuck with you fuckers when you're all pissed off and feelin' mean."
- And then, it rises.
Moon feels the scent.
The scent of fear
Not a person.
Not even the city.
Like fear was imprinted upon Creation itself!
He sees the pillar of night rising. A part of the Boil becomes night, a night without sun or Moon, only a strange dark aurora of flames within. One that seems to echo screams, fading screams from far, far away...
And then, they come running through the street.
Horses made of the same dark multihued flames.
They run through the pack, immaterial, simple images, simple echoes.
A simple echo...
Hollow Edge: The Nemessary sees, as he gets up. Raising the rubble. Raising the debris. His body darkened, the immaculate white and silver now brown with the dust... his eyes explode in oblivion-white light beneath the mask, looking at the Lunar in ANGER!
"Seventh Moon!"
He should not be able to do anything else. But as he comes out, he does so following the nightmares. He is a nightmare himself. And fading out with the spectres, he catches one and goes for Moon.... in a moment after coming out of the rubble. He should not have had time. But time slows down for him. Time changes for him.
Like ina nightmare, they come for you no matter how slow they move...
Seventh Moon: Laughing stops. The flush of victory fades. Moon and all the Pack jerk as one, turning to stare upwards in awe at the midnight pillar stabbing towards the sky.
... the fuck?
There was no time to think on what he was witnessing. From sound to sight, on galloping hooves they come washing through the streets like a black flood. Much of the Pack screams and scatters for cover in buildings or alleyways, others simply standing like Moon with eyes scratched wide as the dark horses race past them and whip through them.
And through the swarm of fleeting shadows, Moon does not even notice the figure emerging from the rubble until it is already too late. "Aw fu-"
Kinny: It was all too fast.
Laugher.
Relief.
Fear
Some very weird shit.
And then, the corpse-preacher was there, hitting Moon with its sword. Moving too fast. Nothing seemed real anymore, as if Kinny had smoked too much of many, many fun things.
Total bad trip.
But even in the middle of it all, one thing remained constant. One thing to be remembered.
"Stay the fuck away from him, asshole!" Kinny said, rising the club and bringing it down hard on the Nemssary's face... throwing him away from the ghostly image he hitchhiked, away from boss...
Seventh Moon: Surprise could only keep him so long. Hollow Edges blade struck, but it was barely a scratch compared to what Moon had been through lately, and his hand slaps over the blade while it still lays caught in his flesh, refusing to let it go. He traded looks of hatred with the undead beast above him and waited for him to blink.
Kinny made that happen. The punks blow only rebounded harmlessly off of Hollow's body, but that little love tap is enough to make the dark paladin shift, to distract him for an instant.
That's all Moon needed.
The Lunar squeezed his eyes closed for a moment, then opened them wide as harsh moonlight poured out of them. Faded to scarcely more than shimmer in the air, the hound pulsed back into being for one terrible moment, it's ruined face snapping at the shadow-horse.
Nightmares were fear incarnate. They knew no fear themselves. Until now. Deep within itself, prey always knew the predator, and as the silver fangs clashed against it's ebony hide, the nightmare screamed and reared, throwing Hollow Edge from it's back.
And as he fell, Moon was there to catch him. Twisting his arms around the paladin, Moon's hands clasped together behind Hollow Edge and squeeze him tighter and tighter. Their faces only inches apart, Moon's face twisted hatefully and drew back slowly.
"Stay. Fucking. Dead! " Moon whipped his head forward, his brow colliding into Hollows with a shape crack., his caste mark planting itself between the other man's eyes.
Kinny: Moon hits, almost gets him, but the ghost evades him on the last of moments... staggering backwards, the ghost tries to escape...
"Oh no, you don't!" He says as he comes running, fast as he can, hitting him again, and again, and again... violent like Moon, violent like the Pack, violent like the Boil!
Seventh Moon: Fucker was slippery, pushing out of Moon's grasp with the force of the blow. Hurt like of a son-of-a-bitch too, Moon's skull throbbing like the caste-mark had been physically pushed into bone, but still not enough. Even as Kinny came up to strike him from behind again, Hollow Edge wasn't even phased enough to be slowed down.
This had to stop. They didn't have time to waste on this fucker. It had to stop NOW!
He pressed in from the side as Hollow warded off Kinny's attack. Digging his toe into the rubble, Moon kicked a spray of dust and pebbles into the paladin's eyes before stomping the sole of his boot into the other mans chest, knocking him backwards over a wooden beam behind him. Following through on the kick, Moon stepped up onto Hollow's chest, then glanced his foot up until it pressed down on the paladins throat.
He didn't know if the half-dead fucker had to breath or not. It didn't matter either. Moon raised a fist into the air above him, tendrils of Essence snaking up his arm and pooling into the threads of moonsilver across his gloves until it pulsed with light. Shifting his weight, Moon ground his boot into Hollows throat, then drove his hand down. Falling to his knee with the motion, his fist pummeled into Hollow Edge's stomach, a wave rippling through the ground around them as it struck.
Hollow Edge: Body still covered in the dust and pieces of the Whorehouse Moon had thrown atop of him, hit to the stomach so hard his dead body caves in, the sickly noise of dead flesh breaking, Hollow Edge wavers. His two most puissant servants buried beneath the whorehouse, his body running low already, placed on the defensive...
And, hit so hard by Moon's punch, the body just... fell, limp, lifeless, to the ground before the Lunar.
Seventh Moon: "Finally..." Moon huffed, drawing his bloody fist from the pit of the dead-things stomach. As an after-thought, he stopped and wiped the gore off on Hollow's cloak. "Fuckers just don't know when ta quit, y'know?"
Boot still crushing down on the dead nemesaries throat, a hot blind impulse lifted his foot up and stomped it back down onto the blackcloak's jaw. Heavy treads crushed cold flesh and shattered bone and Moon shifted his weight onto that foot and twisted hard, grinding the dead-things lower-face into a scarlet paste. You just don't fuck with a gang and expect to get out of being fucked up just cause you died.
"A'ite, that shits over." Pulling his glare away from the corpse, he leveled his gaze at Kinny near by. He had to get to Selina and the girls soon, but he couldn't just run off and leave his people to bleed alone. "Whats been goin' down here man? Everyone still breathin' and shit?"
Kinny: "Took a fuckin' 'house in the head and falls like that? Fuckin' pussy..." Kinny shakes his head, bringing the mace down and cracking Hollow Edge's mask.
Hannah was still hurt, but punching anyone close to her that tried to give a hand, her bleeding well-bandaged. Everyone else seemed... fine enough. Bruises, cuts, nothing serious."Fine, man! Were wondering just the heck you had vanished to! Those guys are hardcore, but... well, they are down, we ain't."
- Now that things calmed, he can still feel the ground shaking.
The night where the Queens and Selina walked into begins to dissipate...
And the fire burns brighter.
But the ground continues shaking, and Moon sees the other giant suit of armor Iron Tears had in his armoy running towards the patch of night, fire, and fear....
Seventh Moon: "I was busy savin' the city and shit. Thats kinda what people like me are supposed ta do, y'know?" he grinned and rubbed the gleaming caste mark on his brow, leaving a new streak of dirty blood across it...
And up into his hair as his hand jumps. As then entire ground jumps. A murmer rises from the scattered Pack as they drift back together into the street and Moon turns with them, looks with them as the armored behemoth stomps through the red-lantern towards the pillar of darkness where Selina had been heading. As he stares, breathing shallow through his mouth, a single thought whispers in his mind.
Aw fuck, I hope that thing is still on our side...
Was or wasn't, just it being there meant some serious shit was going down. Now there really was no more time to stand around. "A'ite, stop fuckin' gawk ya dumb shits!" Moon growls as he turns back to the Pack, trading his own gawk for a look of unimpressed irritation. "Ain't like it's the first time ya seen a giant stove with legs smashin' up the district today. I want ya take Hanna and anyone else bleedin' and get them the fuck up ta Rusty's place and make 'um stay there. Tie them down if ya need ta. Then get as much of that..." What had Iron Tears called it? "Frosty-freeze shit as ya can for those sticks of yours and get your asses back down over ta where ever that big ass hunk of tin is standin'. MOVE! "
Hanna: And they do. The pack didn't have much discipline...
But they sure as heck knew when to follow their alpha.
All of them begin to move... but one
Hanna.
She stands there, her fists clinched. "N-now... you wait! I can still stand, and I can... still... punch! I am not going to bed while this shit goes down! Not a fucking chance! "
Seventh Moon: Fuck. Moon gritted his teeth. He didn't really have time for this. Not that he didn't appreciate the sentiment, but she had just gotten a chunk taken out of her and not in a good place either.
"Look darlin," He started, moving towards her, sliding down the pile of rubble. "You're hurt. You were bleedin' bad. If you're in such a good way, then you can hang back and keep an eye on everyone else instead, but you ain't walkin' inta another fuckin' knife right now, a'ite?"
Gripping her arm, Moon jerked his thumb back towards the towering suit of armor. "That is the sorta shit goin' down right now, a'ite? If it weren't cause I needed everyone I could get, I wouldn't let any of you the fuck outside in the middle of this. That ain't a choice, but that doesn't mean I gotta let my gang kill itself cause it's too damn stupid ta know when ta hang back."
"Now that I'm done lecturing your dumb ass Go." He snarled down at her, his eyes simmering.
Hanna: "I'll... hang back then..." She said looking at it... at the great colossus running towards the fading patch of night, as crows and ravens and raitons begin to flock over it... "But I will be on the back of the Pack with you! I am going with you!" She says, then shuts up and takes her place as the Pack takes the wounded, position itself close to Moon, and gets ready....
- And as he looks, he sees the birds begin to coalesce on a human form, above the battlefield....
Seventh Moon: "Aw now what?" he mutters, watching the birds take shape in the sky above. Could be the old cr... that... master Shadow Eyes was gettin' the fuck out of his basement? More likely it was just something else big and ugly that wanted to kill everyone.
Moon shook his head in a violent motion, spraying droplets of someone else's blood from his hair, and kicked it from his eyes with a jerk. Deal when there was time to deal. Kill it when it needed killing. Now, run.
Moon's legs bent then shoved off the ground as he scrambled over the ruble in a lopping gait, back bent forward and hands occasionally touching the ground to drag himself forward faster as he dashed through the narrow streets, towards the scent of death and fear, at the foot of the giant.
Hollow Edge: As they run, the Pack see someone running on one of the tranversal streets, cut down by the scythes in the hands of the black cloaks. Their recognition of Moon is immediate, easy when one is glowing silver as he is. "It's the Lunar! get him!"
Hollow Edge watched over the wreck of the fallen whorehouse. He knew his subordinates did not stand a chance. Neither did him, without his war-body.
His servants finally raised themselves, now without corporeal bodies, out of the wreackage, as he watched.
"Your body seems to have suffered heavy damage, my lord. They have even desecrated your mask..."
"Indeed. They have."
Seventh Moon.
Kinny's Ghost.
He'd remember, oh, he'd remember.
... and the Clear Sky...
Selina de Windia: Looking up at the spirit assassin, Selina narrows her eyes at him, gripping her sword tightly. Too long, has he survived. "This time, we end it." She hisses, the hint of draconic rumble beneath the normal tones of her voice.
The Windian takes to the air with enough force to stave in the cobblestones beneath her feet. Her weapon faintly lit by the lightning coursing along the blade, darker energies shrouding the edges, she brings it forward to strike the older assassin.
Black Avian: Feathers from his ruined wings come in front of Selina's blow... more and more, as she cuts through them. More and more, as she goes through all the energy he pours into it... but in the end, he stops it.
Panting he distances from the assassin in a flap of his wings, then concentrates...
"Powerful as always, Dark Angel..."
"But this time... this time, I shall be the victor!"
"And you will learn respect for your elders, deathknight!"
And then, he spreads his wings - dipped in a broth of melted soulsteel and shadow, every feather then engraved with the true name of those who had heroically martyred themselves for the Bishop; lined with their finger bones, and their ghosts woven into the broth. He spreads them and their feathers surround him in the air, each and every one a lethal weapon, obscuring his form as they form a great shape of a crow all around him.
"Martyrs, Prophets, are my feathers, Dark Angel - when I lost my life, I gained true wings."
His strike to her, he shines like the undifferentiated sun of the Underworld, filling the great form of feathers, and striking as many, through all her defenses, where she cannot see... his fist going straight to her weakest spots.
He strikes her, defenseless.... and sees she is still standing.
"The fangs... your skin, so hard... what are you...."
Selina de Windia: "A monster of another age. One of the monsters." Selina states simply, the blood from her newest wound abating easily, wings beating as she hovers before the ghost. Her sword seems to absorb the light around them, gloomy as it is, the edges putting it out in a muffled rainbow, as if it were a prism. Slowly, those colors corrupt to deep purple, grey, and black. "I am an Anathema, and my terrible magics are without equal in the north."
This time, she dosn't try for the sword strike. Selina moves up to him with blurred speed, free hand lashing out to catch the other assassin. Her turquoise eyes -- pupils slit to lines -- radiate nearly-animalistic hungry and fury as the monster that was the Dark Angel seeks to grapple with the nemissary.
Black Avian: Avian does not try to defend, just stands there, holding her arm as she comes to him...
"You will try to strong arm me, girl? In the sky? You will see where this will get you, monster. Like you, I am stronger than I look."
All around him, the bird made by so many stray feathers curls, enveloping Selina in a maze of sharp feathers.... her and Avian standing within.
Selina de Windia: "Humph." Selina scoffs, the sound turning into a low chuckle as she smiles, her burning anima suddenly flaring with power, waves of nether-black and flashing lightning roiling off of her. Off of every part of her, her wings, her hands, lashing the nemissary savagely.
Black Avian: She was within the bird of razor feathers.
Holding him and bathing him in oblivion.
The bird curled around Selina, the wings protectively around its child, so many sharp feathers trouching her wings, her leotard, her hardened skin.
They flew around the Boil, the Clock Tower in the distance the only thing on their level as he held her arms, his razored fathers between his fingers and her flesh, as levers helping him pull her away... "Let. Me. GO, you monster! "
No longer was she a child, or even a deathknight...
Only a monster of oblivion in front of him.
Selina de Windia: "Mmmm... " The voice of the Abyssal echos within the partial cocoon of steel feathers as one clawed hand -- with strength born of the beast within her -- holds the errant ghost fast. Sharp-nailed fingers constricting bone, flesh, nearly snapping the former as she gives him a equally razored smile, ignoring his 'feathers'. "Afraid? "
Her eyes dance with turquoise fire mixed with darkness, voice taking on a bemused quality. The empty anima about Selina roaring as she brings the free hand up to Black Avian's face even as she seeks to keep him from retreating. "I shall now educate you.. ." A small point of Oblivion collects on the out-thrust palm, inches from the ghost's skull -- begins to grow. "As to what a clash between true chosen is! "
- - Back to Fourth Movement
- - Back to A Dance of Angels
