TIMESTAMP: 5th Sun's Zenith year 122
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The thing had the silhouette of a person– bipedal, two arms, the vague shape of what had once been human, but it was mortal no more. Covered in tumorous growths, flesh bulged outwards at disgusting angles, swollen with skin pulled taut as they hung precariously off of a skeleton that had no right to support its mass. One arm had grown fat like an armored club, covered in teeth and nail growths, oozing blood and pus. The other held much of what was likely its original shape, but it bent unnaturally, swinging as the thing moved, gnarled like the rest with claws like a beast’s. Its belly split open into a yawning chasm of monstrous teeth and entrails, raw, wet flesh hanging out, intestines hung like rope around many of the teeth. Another mouth up around where the rib cage should be opened as if it were trying to roar– lungs expanded and deflated around a heart that pulsed erratically within before it closed back up. The thing’s neck was swollen and fat, extra eyes and facial features scattered among the folds of flesh– one could only tell where the thing’s original face was on account of the fact that their jaw had broken, now hanging slack, and a mouth with layers and layers of teeth sat open. It was both a cruel mockery of flesh’s beauty and a work of art at the same time– so utterly disgusting yet almost majestic, in a way.
Hector lay on the ground completely frozen like a deer caught in the eyes of a predator. Vergil, on the other hand, immediately went to throw off his bag and grab for the polearm he had sheathed securely on his back. His grip and stance were proper but very rigid from his nerves. There was no way around the thing, and it saw them; their only solution now was to fight through it or die. With all of the thing’s excess growth, it was bigger than both of them combined– while the beast lacked the numerical advantage, it made up for it with raw strength. On top of this, there was the fact that neither man had any real combat experience outside of what animals dwelled within the forests and foothills around the city. The two stood at a distinct disadvantage for this reason, but being vampyres, they still had a chance of emerging from the alley victorious.
By the time Vergil had his weapon readied, the thing had begun to lumber towards them, heavy steps crushing anything that had the misfortune of ending up underfoot. Thoughts raced through the young mage’s head, realizing that his magic was far too weak to really do anything that would affect a monster like this. He wouldn’t be able to maintain focus long enough to summon anything useful and his Vitalis lacked the potency to even hinder the thing, much less lethally maim it.
A pit formed in his stomach at the realization that he would be of little help, guilt rising and making him feel ill– his mentor, his friend, would have to fight the beast alone. Of course, if there was a moment where he could help, he’d take it for sure, but otherwise he felt he’d only get in the way. If Vergil died here, he didn’t know how he’d ever get over the guilt, no matter how much time came to pass. And so, the disheveled elf shakily pushed himself up from the ground and regained his footing. He kept his distance, but he planned to stay close enough to do something should the opportunity arise.
The advantage gained by who lands the first strike was decisive in any battle. If a hit lands, the attacker would stand to gain a massive advantage. Should they miss and get struck in retaliation, the opposite would occur– it was a gamble that wracked the nerves of a defiant Vergil. Given how he was trained to fight, he intended to use the length of his weapon to his advantage and would likely aim for landing the hit with the counter-attack method. As a final form of preparation, the older vampyre pulsed aether through his bloodstream, casting Pheromancy to alter his perception of pain and Adrenosis to heighten his senses.
With the intention to both distance himself from Hector as well as bait the beast into an attack windup, Vergil stepped forward and accelerated into a run, closing the distance between him and the macabre construct. As predicted, it wound up the swollen mass of flesh that had become of its left arm, bringing it up across its chest. To the man's surprise, it did so with remarkable ease, swinging the heavy, bulbous mallet of an arm downward with magnificent force. Leaping backwards, the bulk of the arm ended up a hair's breadth from smashing him into a wall, but that didn't mean he avoided the strike entirely– the clawed fingers of the abomination's overgrown hand whipped him in the face, cutting into his cheek, lacerating his left eye, and making his head spin.
Due to Pheromancy, the pain itself was easy enough to shrug off. However, being half blind now was not ideal...what could he do aside from fight on, though? Taking advantage of the fact that he was now bleeding, Vergil used Thaumaturgy to draw blood from his wounds and cast Crystallize to harden what he'd drawn into unnaturally sharp arrowheads. Despite the impact the hit had on his vision, he took aim at the thing. Whether the arrows managed to do any major damage didn't matter– he just needed access to more blood.
Leaping forward now, he swung his spear in a wide upward arc and at the same time shot the bloodcrafted arrowheads at the beast's throat. The curved blade hooked into the mouth on the monster's stomach, dug into the flesh of its ribs and ripped upwards, tearing through everything it touched and cracking off several of the thing’s ribs. Flesh torn asunder, a large amount of blood spewed forth from the wounds– Vergil had managed to join the mouth on the stomach with the mouth on the chest, turning the abomination's torso into one gaping wound and breaking ribs away from the heart. At the same time, the arrowheads made impact with its fat, fleshy neck, burying deep into the folds at three different angles. A veritable fountain of blood tore open in that moment; one of the projectiles had nicked whatever had become of the carotid artery.
In response, the thing screamed and wildly began flailing its appendages, joints moving and bending in extremely unnatural ways, its shoulder making a sickening crack from the weight of its club-like arm. Despite the fact that Vergil had done a large amount of damage to the monster, it moved with a disturbing level of ferocity, swinging the thinner right arm with whip-like force and even the club with remarkable dexterity.
Taking advantage of the hideous amount of bleeding the creature was doing, Vergil used a combination of Thaumaturgy and Crystallize to pull a sanguine wave of blood between him and the flailing arms. Unable to slow its momentum, the advancing abomination barreled into the wall with a nauseating crash. While the crystallized blood shattered, splinters of it dug into the flesh of the thing, goring it further while the bones in its arms audibly snapped.
It wailed in agony, but Vergil didn't move back fast enough, a chunk of the blood wall dislodged by the impact slammed into his knee and knocked him to the ground. Scrambling to get ahold of himself and his weapon, the enraged monster stood over him about to bring the pulverized mallet arm down on his head. Unable to move fast enough, he braced for impact, trying to maneuver his most vital parts out of the way– but the shock of being hit never came.
Instead, he heard the squelch of flesh against flesh and bone against bone as the mangled arm slammed into Hector. The younger vampyre had leapt in the way as soon as he saw his beloved friend hit the floor– it'd occurred to him while Vergil and the abomination fought that the only useful thing he could really do was take a hit for the other. Upon this realization, the mage had flooded his system with aether and utilized Vicissitude to harden and reinforce his skin, forming something of an armored carapace to protect himself. He hoped that with this, he'd be able to survive at least one strike.
The monster still possessed enough strength to send the young vampyre flying through the air, careening into a chunk of rubble a few feet away. Vergil watched helplessly as this happened; both alarm and utter horror bloomed in his system as he realized exactly what that idiot had just done. There was no time to sit and curse his companion's poor choices, however– if Hector was going to tank a hit, he had to take advantage of the time and safety it bought him.
Hector lay on the ground completely frozen like a deer caught in the eyes of a predator. Vergil, on the other hand, immediately went to throw off his bag and grab for the polearm he had sheathed securely on his back. His grip and stance were proper but very rigid from his nerves. There was no way around the thing, and it saw them; their only solution now was to fight through it or die. With all of the thing’s excess growth, it was bigger than both of them combined– while the beast lacked the numerical advantage, it made up for it with raw strength. On top of this, there was the fact that neither man had any real combat experience outside of what animals dwelled within the forests and foothills around the city. The two stood at a distinct disadvantage for this reason, but being vampyres, they still had a chance of emerging from the alley victorious.
By the time Vergil had his weapon readied, the thing had begun to lumber towards them, heavy steps crushing anything that had the misfortune of ending up underfoot. Thoughts raced through the young mage’s head, realizing that his magic was far too weak to really do anything that would affect a monster like this. He wouldn’t be able to maintain focus long enough to summon anything useful and his Vitalis lacked the potency to even hinder the thing, much less lethally maim it.
A pit formed in his stomach at the realization that he would be of little help, guilt rising and making him feel ill– his mentor, his friend, would have to fight the beast alone. Of course, if there was a moment where he could help, he’d take it for sure, but otherwise he felt he’d only get in the way. If Vergil died here, he didn’t know how he’d ever get over the guilt, no matter how much time came to pass. And so, the disheveled elf shakily pushed himself up from the ground and regained his footing. He kept his distance, but he planned to stay close enough to do something should the opportunity arise.
The advantage gained by who lands the first strike was decisive in any battle. If a hit lands, the attacker would stand to gain a massive advantage. Should they miss and get struck in retaliation, the opposite would occur– it was a gamble that wracked the nerves of a defiant Vergil. Given how he was trained to fight, he intended to use the length of his weapon to his advantage and would likely aim for landing the hit with the counter-attack method. As a final form of preparation, the older vampyre pulsed aether through his bloodstream, casting Pheromancy to alter his perception of pain and Adrenosis to heighten his senses.
With the intention to both distance himself from Hector as well as bait the beast into an attack windup, Vergil stepped forward and accelerated into a run, closing the distance between him and the macabre construct. As predicted, it wound up the swollen mass of flesh that had become of its left arm, bringing it up across its chest. To the man's surprise, it did so with remarkable ease, swinging the heavy, bulbous mallet of an arm downward with magnificent force. Leaping backwards, the bulk of the arm ended up a hair's breadth from smashing him into a wall, but that didn't mean he avoided the strike entirely– the clawed fingers of the abomination's overgrown hand whipped him in the face, cutting into his cheek, lacerating his left eye, and making his head spin.
Due to Pheromancy, the pain itself was easy enough to shrug off. However, being half blind now was not ideal...what could he do aside from fight on, though? Taking advantage of the fact that he was now bleeding, Vergil used Thaumaturgy to draw blood from his wounds and cast Crystallize to harden what he'd drawn into unnaturally sharp arrowheads. Despite the impact the hit had on his vision, he took aim at the thing. Whether the arrows managed to do any major damage didn't matter– he just needed access to more blood.
Leaping forward now, he swung his spear in a wide upward arc and at the same time shot the bloodcrafted arrowheads at the beast's throat. The curved blade hooked into the mouth on the monster's stomach, dug into the flesh of its ribs and ripped upwards, tearing through everything it touched and cracking off several of the thing’s ribs. Flesh torn asunder, a large amount of blood spewed forth from the wounds– Vergil had managed to join the mouth on the stomach with the mouth on the chest, turning the abomination's torso into one gaping wound and breaking ribs away from the heart. At the same time, the arrowheads made impact with its fat, fleshy neck, burying deep into the folds at three different angles. A veritable fountain of blood tore open in that moment; one of the projectiles had nicked whatever had become of the carotid artery.
In response, the thing screamed and wildly began flailing its appendages, joints moving and bending in extremely unnatural ways, its shoulder making a sickening crack from the weight of its club-like arm. Despite the fact that Vergil had done a large amount of damage to the monster, it moved with a disturbing level of ferocity, swinging the thinner right arm with whip-like force and even the club with remarkable dexterity.
Taking advantage of the hideous amount of bleeding the creature was doing, Vergil used a combination of Thaumaturgy and Crystallize to pull a sanguine wave of blood between him and the flailing arms. Unable to slow its momentum, the advancing abomination barreled into the wall with a nauseating crash. While the crystallized blood shattered, splinters of it dug into the flesh of the thing, goring it further while the bones in its arms audibly snapped.
It wailed in agony, but Vergil didn't move back fast enough, a chunk of the blood wall dislodged by the impact slammed into his knee and knocked him to the ground. Scrambling to get ahold of himself and his weapon, the enraged monster stood over him about to bring the pulverized mallet arm down on his head. Unable to move fast enough, he braced for impact, trying to maneuver his most vital parts out of the way– but the shock of being hit never came.
Instead, he heard the squelch of flesh against flesh and bone against bone as the mangled arm slammed into Hector. The younger vampyre had leapt in the way as soon as he saw his beloved friend hit the floor– it'd occurred to him while Vergil and the abomination fought that the only useful thing he could really do was take a hit for the other. Upon this realization, the mage had flooded his system with aether and utilized Vicissitude to harden and reinforce his skin, forming something of an armored carapace to protect himself. He hoped that with this, he'd be able to survive at least one strike.
The monster still possessed enough strength to send the young vampyre flying through the air, careening into a chunk of rubble a few feet away. Vergil watched helplessly as this happened; both alarm and utter horror bloomed in his system as he realized exactly what that idiot had just done. There was no time to sit and curse his companion's poor choices, however– if Hector was going to tank a hit, he had to take advantage of the time and safety it bought him.
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'Thoughts'
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'Thoughts'
"Common Tongue/Speech"
"Mythrasi Tongue/Speech"
