Re: Chapter III: The Fall
Posted: Tue Jun 13, 2017 5:51 am
The demon's hide was thick and strong, but any gash this deep would've been excruciating. Malphas did what he could to shake Ciaran off, which placed the selkie at the mercy of what effectively amounted to a set of boarding spikes along his flanks. Mary's own attack proved to be quite taxing for the demon, his right leg's tendons having completely given way. One of the bands of conjured muscle even snapped audibly, like a rubber band being broken. Malphas was now hobbled and driven mad with pain, which forced him to put his energy towards frontal attacks. Tom's erected forcefields protected both himself, Aislinn and Eyes, but he couldn't cover the room's perimeter effectively, or attack while blocking shoves of that magnitude. The summons had already exhausted him, to the point where you didn't have to look too hard to see his shirt was utterly damp, underneath his vest.
"If we don't make it," he wheezed, "at least we'll leave good-looking corpses!"
Malphas sensed that Tom offered the weaker end of the line of defense, and did what he could to hammer the warthog's defenses in. By the fourth shove, Magnus had a knee to the ground and his teeth were clenched.
"I'm sorry," he told Eyes, "I should have anticipated more-!
- It's not your fault!" retorted the man. "Keep pushing!"
One last shove followed, and Tom was forced to bring his hands down with a groan of exertion - and to stare death in the face.
Then, a miracle happened.
A pinprick of white light birthed over Malphas' back. The boar's tiny eyes did what they could to look at the new source of annoyance, only to widen in horror as that point of light grew larger and brighter still. Under the group, the circle's dominant color shifted from red to the most striking shade of azure blue - and what felt like blazing sunshine seemed to pour through the white haze. Malphas' back literally sizzled in response, the Duke suddenly parting with squeals of pure, abject agony. A vibrating blade's one-note song could be heard ringing forth from the growing patch of what had to be Celestial light - until a pure length of steel, as bright and as polished as a car's chrome finish, dug deep inside the boar's back, stopping at the hilt.
The light made it difficult to see what had stepped out of that haze, but it certainly was a man. A man whose hands now rested on his sword's hilt, and who carefully twisted it in order to tear the flesh and rend the nerves. In the next split-second, that patch of light seemed to resolve itself as tendrils of light coming forth from the man's back.
Mary would sense that the man, whose features were still obscured, was looking at her like no-one had before. Approval of and confidence in her like she wouldn't have sensed out of anyone seemed to radiate out of him, and his voice was as clear and stentorian as a war horn's battle call.
"Aim your blade behind his right elbow, at thirty degrees upwards! Stab his heart, Marianna!"
"If we don't make it," he wheezed, "at least we'll leave good-looking corpses!"
Malphas sensed that Tom offered the weaker end of the line of defense, and did what he could to hammer the warthog's defenses in. By the fourth shove, Magnus had a knee to the ground and his teeth were clenched.
"I'm sorry," he told Eyes, "I should have anticipated more-!
- It's not your fault!" retorted the man. "Keep pushing!"
One last shove followed, and Tom was forced to bring his hands down with a groan of exertion - and to stare death in the face.
Then, a miracle happened.
A pinprick of white light birthed over Malphas' back. The boar's tiny eyes did what they could to look at the new source of annoyance, only to widen in horror as that point of light grew larger and brighter still. Under the group, the circle's dominant color shifted from red to the most striking shade of azure blue - and what felt like blazing sunshine seemed to pour through the white haze. Malphas' back literally sizzled in response, the Duke suddenly parting with squeals of pure, abject agony. A vibrating blade's one-note song could be heard ringing forth from the growing patch of what had to be Celestial light - until a pure length of steel, as bright and as polished as a car's chrome finish, dug deep inside the boar's back, stopping at the hilt.
The light made it difficult to see what had stepped out of that haze, but it certainly was a man. A man whose hands now rested on his sword's hilt, and who carefully twisted it in order to tear the flesh and rend the nerves. In the next split-second, that patch of light seemed to resolve itself as tendrils of light coming forth from the man's back.
Mary would sense that the man, whose features were still obscured, was looking at her like no-one had before. Approval of and confidence in her like she wouldn't have sensed out of anyone seemed to radiate out of him, and his voice was as clear and stentorian as a war horn's battle call.
"Aim your blade behind his right elbow, at thirty degrees upwards! Stab his heart, Marianna!"