Act 3
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Prologue
Alluring at the faintest drop, by itself the scent of blood conjures upmost arousal. Ryon reveled in it, till even his own, but distorted cravings too had their limits. Wrenching deep, more monstrosity than man Ceron's claw-like appendages tore chunks off Ryon's inner jaw. Ryon frantically thrashed about, his head remained however in a vice like grip, dug in Ceron's appendages latched themselves. Ryon's body twisted, trying to use his razor tail as a whip just to desperately fail at it. Despite the horrid appearance of decay, Ceron's wings were not malleable, no they were tougher than hide or scale- Even Ryon' whose tail could normally sever bone only left small scratches. That was until Ryon struck the rotting flesh, affected by holy aura.
Sarieth nearly fell by the maddened thrashing, he dangled from Ryon's side, the cracks between the lindwyrm's scale giving just enough grip room. Sarieth held his breath, watching the claymore glinting as it met the fate of falling below. Sarieth hastily lifted himself up just dodging a glancing barrage of acid, and met by the accompanied groan of Ceron as the holy fire still ravaged his form. Frantic, erratic it was as if his own body rejected itself, glazed over eyes Sarieth could only discern primal intentions from any sane will.
..
Below Almon snapped back from his thoughts, hearing Sarieth's shout and the entangled summon. His tense smile was brief, subdued by dull anger... Burned to cinder, a trail of blood leading into forest's embrace. Locks of golden hair ripped with dangling pieces of scalp still attached, painting the way... Every time Almon closed his eyes. But it would be over. The atrocities that led him and half of the continent would be over.
"Lass the spell-" A sharp warmth struck his side, Almon lurched clutching near his lower ribcage. A dagger rammed deep through the gap of his armor, all too familiar the cross and sun insignia inscribed on it's hilt. Pale white hands jerked, back and fourth slicing the wound in a flurry of strokes; Almon fell, the strength in his legs vanished. Frey's expression contorted, brought the blade to her tongue viciously licking it, slicing her mouth in the act.
Almon screamed, slipping wet hands around his weapon handle. "Wittchen bastard!" Almon pulled the trigger, projectile however remained. Frey let out a cold laugh, before Almon knew it her thumb had inched between the weapon's hammer and firing pin. Her crackling incessantly ringed in his ears, as did a weeping cry. "You crazed shite-- Frey clasped the dwarf's mouth, ripping the weapon from his grasp and hurling it to the side.
The dwarf was unable to move, by the weight of Frey, her force somehow shadowing him as if possessed by a beast in a little girl's skin. Twisting knots of pain, sharp and vivid Almon again felt the slicing of his lower ribcage. Frey let go as he fell back, the dwarf's body motionless; from it all, a loud tang broke her gaze the ground shook, as a wave of debris came hurling from the left, Sarieth's claymore had struck.
...
Sound of Almon's cry escaped to ongoings above. The thin line that it was wavered, for briefest of moments Sarieth twitched, the magic lance forming within his hands shattered. Elementium backfired, barely a thought more vision swirled. A torrent of energy lashed out, tearing in a dark force off Ceron's hide. Emanating from the monstrosity, Ceron jerked up, as sensation washed over-him. The holy flame was obscured the burning and decay it sought came overshadowed.
Sarieth's footing turned, snapping with the ripping of tendons; Ryon head was torn off by Ceron's overpowering might, the sudden change lapsed any thought Sarieth held, gravity taking him to it's mercy.
As he fell, a rising burn struck Sarieth from within his chest pocket the stone talisman trembled. The visible depictions shifted, the three-headed snake coiled twisting in fervor, it's representation now just two heads. Visible pain shook Sarieth, drifting his sight from the talisman to the summon's decapitated head. 'You sought, in due our bind is done. And take owed mine.' Ryon's spoke just behind, as if it's death was only inconvenience. 'One' eye, ear and thumb rest is yours so you seek it' .. Sarieth crushed the talisman, it's leaking miasma and dark elementium receded, not laying a hair on neither bargain.
"Sarieth. T'almore, you will regret this betrayal," A wicked slash carved into Sarieth's wrist as the talisman fully broke seeping putrid black. While still, Sarieth dove knee first, repositioning himself into the cracked flooring; 'n a thud Sarieth stuck the landing in stride, before the dust settled already took claymore in hand... 'Wicked snare that of innocence borne by youth, so tempted. So frail and twisted, harboring the witch beside.' In no less than a thought, Sarieth's keen edge pierced past cloth impaling Frey by the neck, like a javelin the claymore had been thrown.
The girl's body hung against the blade, nailed to the tomb's wall. No doubt, obvious enough Frey was devoid of life all shallow breaths had already escaped, no one's spine just stuck out like that and got up. Stepping over Almon motionless body, a grimace formed bolder on Sarieth. Just as Sarieth grabbed the claymore's hilt, Frey's body hit the floor a clapping came from behind. "The girl's doing was her own, her choice." Ceron drifted down, the savage and extruding forms gone his stature, simple as any other seven foot figure concealed in black could be. The rhythmic tapping of blood, dropping from Sarieth's blade coated the silent void.
"Choose those close wisely, for deep desire overshadows thought." Ceron spoke, unmoving from his spot. Almost instinctual Sarieth scoffed, the myriad of things-- A lecture on friendship? If that wasn't.. "C--" Ceron raised his hand,
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"Leave Sarieth.. There won't be a second time.. I ask." Sarieth shook his head,
"No. I can't." Tucking a hand behind his back Sarieth deepened stance, angling the claymore parallel to himself. Like a cheetah in motion, Sarieth's blade struck forward arching his wrist into a series of diagonal slashes. Ceron weaved back, in out of reach. The blade tip just passing hair and sweat gliding un-impeded by any contact, nearly evolving into a waltz of movement, three. Four, two, three, two. The movement was rhythmic in Ceron's gaze and regretfully nostalgic. "Your getting slower." Ceron said.
As the blade stopped, wedged between two fingers. Sarieth pulled his arm back, propelling himself toward Ceron as he let go aiming five knuckles neck deep. The fraction off movement was a blur to any normal man, however Ceron still had the time to count the stars between these series of actions. Ceron dropped the claymore, immediately shifted his feet just to the side of Sarieth's strike and behind to the back of his head... Sarieth kicked the blade still in motion, caught it with an open hand, thrusting the air to his side and back in a sweeping motion. And again it stopped, mid swing between two fingers as Ceron brought it close to his face in a blank expression. "That's twice."
Sarieth's shock quickly turned as air left his lungs. Ceron kicked him, off his feet Sarieth flew backward skidding across the ground to a low lying halfwall.
Distant rumbling stirred Sarieth from his daze, the sight of Ceron slowly approaching wiped all momentary fatigue his lips were moving, with that nonchalant gait and widening smile it must've been something nice he said. Too bad the ringing in Sarieth's ears cut short any monologuing for him to hear. A twitch of movement came from the side as Sarieth tried his best not to look, that tenacious bastard.. Sarieth laughed much to the bewilderment of Ceron as he stopped next to a supporting pillar. "Admirable, laughing moments before death not many can do that Sarieth, but don't think I'm so heartlessto let you die without a sword in your hand..."
Ceron tossed the claymore back to its rightful owner, "You know I never was skilled as you in the blade." Ceron drew a short staff from the lining of his cloak, green energy twisted around it forming a pike as it crystalized into a thick formation of barbed roots. "I already told you.. Save those words for the afterlife." Sarieth said, just as a tang struck the pillar, Ceron stepped back a flash of confusion written all over, as a fuse dwindled inches from where he stood.
"Sweet dreams you shite!--" Almon's words were shadowed, followed by the explosion and collapsing ceiling as tons of rubble plummeted toward Ceron blanketing him in an instant. Sarieth rushed to the lying dwarf, his state for worse than good. Blood edged out as he coughed, "Just in time aye'?" Almon grabbed Sarieth's forearm his expression slowly turned, his breathing became more shallow. In a final exhale his life stopped in the silence and did his eyes flicker to moonlight, out from the collapse it poured in illuminating his body perfectly. A quake took within Sarieth, while he closed Almon's eyes. He couldn't settle, it persisted he couldn't mindlessly stare; he felt it. Movement.
...
A rising tremor shook the rubble, surrounding floor, like a geyser plumes of rock and debris blasted upward in it's final stroke. Out from the settling debris Ceron stood, as if the weight by tons of stone hadn't just fallen on his head. Ceron dusted off his shoulders, stopping in midst a sinking feeling- "Sarieth.." A passage marked in blood-- No, a ring intersecting with Ceron in the center and a line towards Sarieth. The blotches were rushed, but formed nonetheless as evident from the Sarieth's bleeding arm. A frown settled on Ceron as he watched, feeling the ground beneath his feet for any exit.
"No matter, the darkest of incantations and rituals, or the holiest spells of highest order. Blood is still needed." Sarieth spoke flipping the book within his hands open, smearing the edges with stained fingers. Sarieth lowly chanted, ramping as golden energy permeated his body.
"SARIETH, YOUR CLERIC IS DEAD. YOU DON'T HAVE THE POWER." Ceron bashed the ground, attempting to pass the barrier only to be repelled. A golden sheen shimmered as each strike resounded, "How- You shouldn't have ability.." Ceron grumbled struck at the realization. Warmth to sensation, he could feel it by the second leave him. It was more than just a barrier. Then he saw it too, as Sarieth walked forward in agonizing steps. He had aged, Sarieth a blink and a year would've past, maybe more wrinkles and white hair. Vigor quickly left him.
"All I have is time." Sarieth muttered, in exasperation that felt more acceptance than anything else..
'The weight, it bore greater in each moment as strength left and age settled. Direct from my lifeforce and possibility, everything requires a catalyst- No power is from nothing' Sarieth at the apex of his chant slammed the book shut tossing it aside, slicing his wrist with the claymore's edge. As it brimmed with energy Sarieth kept stride, blocked all outside noise and Ceron's defiance. Thrust through, impaled Ceron held the blade a clenched expression rooted as he stared down Sarieth. To one knee Ceron fell, the golden energy lashed corroding skin- Boiling it, not even a scream; What lasted mere moments was kin to a lifetime of torture. Then silence rested, the bony skeleton of Ceron went limp as the last vestiges of his life force was sucked, poured into the now still sword. The etched runic carvings swirled vibrating in a soft hum.
Sarieth fell, huffing deeply as his eyesight drifted, moonlight still cast down, he couldn't help but be lost in the moon's gaze. It was serene,
"Rest well brother,
Forgive me."
...
Interlude.
Lie still for that is all left,
They will shudder truth
Once opened everything is subject,
Unseen cracks churn, will and forever for
forsaken have paid in it all,
no solace rests.
No peace of quarry within,
may it never be closed.
These walls now converged.