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HellFireSouLess

Rise of Evil IC

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It seemed that there was an epidemic of meatballs on this mountain, as the first human-demon popped up alongside his human retainer. None of them seemed overly suspicious or cautious around the humongous demon that was sprawled over the entire mountaintop, the morons mulling about in front of the beast with idle banter about things that Zulfiqar did not care to know about. Blah blah, humans, blah, my demon weapon's bigger than yours, blah- it was all background noise to Zulfiqar. He had better things to worry about, the monster of a demon falling in second place as he began to paw at the fabric that he was trapped under. It was way too itchy to deal with, and he couldn't keep his fires snuffed for much longer.

Shutting off his flames was like a human holding their breath, if he had the analogy right. His fires were more than just display; they were vital for his survival. Humans consumed things and then excrete whatever was left over by functions such as sweating, breathing, or "going to the bathroom", which from what Zulfiqar understood as humans removing solid wastes from their bodies like some demons did (which was kind of gross, but no matter). In his case, the fires removed all that extra processes and literally burned the waste away. It was quite handy, unless he was forced to basically stop all bodily functions except for walking and thinking by being shoved under annoying fabric. Did he mention that he could literally overheat and explode this way? No, he didn't think so. Oh well- it wasn't like it was important to mention to Gareth anytime soon.

Finally managing to tug himself free from the annoying itchy thing (and kicking it to the side for good measure), Zulfiqar let his mane rekindle, the flames flickering a hot blue before melting through several colors to rest at its normal red-orange hue. The demon visibly relaxed for a moment, before realizing that priority number two suddenly became number one again and went back to watching the much larger demon. It was lazying about, watching the humans with what could be an amused look. It had to be one of the biggest demons he had ever encountered, but then again, he hadn't resided near any flying demon population back in the demon world. His previous...group...had lived relatively far out... practically in the middle of no-where, so nothing of this size ever came lumbering over. His kind had been one of the larger demons to occupy the area, but that wasn't really saying much.

Curiosity over-driving his caution, Zulfiqar crept over to the large demon from its side, getting close enough to sniff at one of its limbs before giving the hide a lick. To which he immediately made a face. Ew, no, he was pretty sure this thing wasn't edible at all. He had been sure with its size that it would probably taste a little better than it did, but no, it reminded Zulfiqar of the time he licked a- what were they called?- a battery.

Smacking his tongue to the roof of his mouth in hopes to get rid of the horrid taste, Zulfiqar's curiosity evolved from wondering what the creature tasted like to a curiosity of a puppy meeting a new person for the first time. He sniffed up and down the creature a few paces before literally crawling on top of it without warning, his snout close to its flesh as his fiery tail whipped about in curiosity-fueled excitement. He was so totally going to examine every inch of this demon. It was a bit big to bring to his horde, and the humans were busy, so might as well log this new find into his memory just so he can prove to the Fathered One how not-stupid he was. Of course he'd probably forget half of the information and the demon would become part of a "I caught a fish THIS BIG" type of story. That was all technicalities though, and Zulfiqar didn't bother with those.

Edited by Neutual Demon

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Hear ye, praise he, blessed king of war,

his crown christened by blood and gore.

 

The dark cathedral beckoned forth,

the spires upon all turning north.

As corruption spread and tainted minds,

they left their wills and hopes behind.

The king, upon his shattered throne,

found himself close to all alone.

His once blessed kingdom was turned,

and the lands around, scarred and burned.

The Executioner, loyal at his side,

whose axe only pure havoc cried,

swore he'd find the source of shade,

and cull it with his heavy blade.

His king, worn with worry and pain,

grabbed his blade where it had lain.

"Together, then, we shall seek the root,

and by might shall make its power moot."

So from the tower rode the pair,

to find the evil in its blackened lair.

Across the lands that once were green,

now fire was all the two had seen.

Their journey long and harsh by far,

they found the jagged, bloody scar.

 

Hear ye, praise he, fallen king of grace,

who should not have entered that wretched place.

 

They entered the halls with anger high,

to seek just where the cruelty lie.

Finally, they found, in the crater's core,

a crystal large, shining, black evermore.

The king, now certain this was the foe,

raised his blade for a mighty blow.

Down it came, upon the crystal's face,

but no mark was made in its place.

Unabashed, he continued, striking strong,

his Executioner joining right along.

But the crystal held firm against the strikes,

whether by axe or sword, or both alike.

The king's blade fell after time unknown.

His arms sore, eyes staring at the stone.

It seemed to taunt him with its gaze.

The king's anger then set ablaze.

Enraged, he took his servant's axe,

to strike the thing with great attacks.

But at first blow, he was stunned to find,

a mark there, fresh, was left behind.

Blood poured fluid from the mark,

left by the swing of that heavy arc.

 

Hear ye, praise he, angry king of pain,

this new darkness became his bane.

 

Hear ye, praise he, blessed king of war,

his crown christened by blood and gore.

 

Third Praise of the Holy Ballad of Domination.

 

------

 

Vol'tar's eyes seemed slightly uninterested as Rei asked his question.

"You ask something that should be quite obvious, young lord." the behemoth stated softly, yawning a bit. "It is your devotion to her and hers to you which provides you the sight which you lose in rage. I believe it is something similar that the large one and the valkyrie have."

Gareth, confused, still held Ezrea in his arms. She seemed close to sleeping as well. She had just realized just how tired she was after the day's events. It was probably - if they could have seen the sun - nighttime, or close to it. She leaned back, head resting on Gareth's chest.

"You get angry at him for me or something..." she muttered, sighing. "I think I'm... gonna take a nap too.."

"Awww..." Gareth looked up at Vol'tar, who frowned slightly. The beast sighed, moving slightly as Zulf climbed upon him. It didn't seem like he really minded Zulf's actions. In fact, it intrigued him.

"I remember long ago when demons like you had not the thought or reason to act as you are.." Vol'tar said to Zulf, smiling thoughtfully. "Did you know that it was thanks to my Lord that you gained your ability to reason?"

Gareth blinked, intrigued. He had always thought about the huge difference between Alphas and their betters. The main difference was their sentience. But if that was a truly a gift from this Lord, then perhaps there was more to these Lords than they thought - and they were definitely more powerful than they were thought to be.

Hopefully, Vol'tar was being honest, in any case, and the Lord had no intention of harming them.

As Rei stabbed his sword down for Gareth to appraise, Gareth stared at it, now interested.

"Well, demon arm or something like it, most demon arms only choose one wielder and only that guy can use them efficiently." Gareth commented, looking the sword over. "It's one reason why they're hard to distribute. You can't just give them to random guys on the street. They have to want to be on you. They have... minds of their own, kinda."

The blade which Rei had shoved into the ground, however, didn't resemble the demon weapons Gareth had seen thus far. It had an aura of .... power. Not evil but not good either. It seemed to radiate something else as well.

As Gareth stared into the metal, he felt his arms tingle where the gloves touched him, as though in response. Scenes of rage and anger ran through his mind, twisted, but did not hold him in thrall.

"That's surprising.."

Gareth turned. Vol'tar was leaning close to him, staring at the blade and then back to him.

"Most would have immediately been drawn to anger and madness if they stared at that blade for as long as you did." Vol'tar commented. "That's not a sword that should be taken like any of the demon arms you humans use. It is something far more sinister and mighty than anything you are capable of crafting."

"Huh?" Gareth looked back at the sword for a moment, now fully involved in learning about it.

"That is Kahlvengul, the Lord's Furious Weapon. In your tongue, it would be the Lord's Blade of Aggression, I believe."

"Lord's blade?" Gareth frowned. "So.... how..?"

"I would assume he found the blade within the demon realm and took it for his own. I knew that Ven'kahl had died in a battle shortly before the gates had opened... The timeline fits. But to think he would be able to use it so easily makes me curious. Humans are interesting beings."

"I guess that's a compliment?" Gareth wondered, then turned to Erik who was flexing his arm. As the man talked about it, Gareth's eyes widened more than they had when dealing with Rei's sword. Gareth also noticed the man was now shirtless. He thanked fate that Ezrea had decided to take a nap in his arms. If she had seen this man's current state...

But he didn't have time to think about that. Instead, he was fascinated with the man's technological achievements based on the research Gareth himself had published with the help of his guild. Though it was based more on the offensive properties, it was definitely pulled from the same theory that the generators were created from.

The original theory had been conceived during research on demon bodies before the gates had been unleashed. Samples of demon corpses were brought to various Creation guilds (well, they hadn't been called GUILDS at the time) and given to the members to study. Gareth's guild had decided to focus on both the defensive and offensive properties of the demon's essences. They had made it extremely far, discovering that demon essences repelled each other in a natural state. The essences of betas drew alpha essences to them, however, and made them possible to control. The essences of omegas EXTREMELY repelled each other, making them have to move them far away from each other when research was conducted. Then, when it came to alphas, it was species based. Alpha species repelled other species of similar strength and attracted essences based on differential of the strength of each sample. HOWEVER, if the essences tested were both from the same species, they attracted EXTREMELY well, sometimes even fusing and becoming one entity. When enough were combined, they gained the properties of a beta.

Through their testing had come the barrier layering system. Generators, using demon metal and conductivity (at least, in Hope's case) to amplify the essences, were layered in threes. The inner layer was Alpha, the secondary Beta, and the third layer Omega. Thus, the third layer normally repelled everything except Alphas, who would swarm around the Beta layer like flies, making it easy to clean them up.

The Alpha layer repelled most Alphas. Due to this, the barriers had saved the major cities and some smaller ones from destruction when the doors had opened. Gareth's guild gained a lot of prestige thanks to that. Not that it mattered now that almost three-fourths of the guild's original members had been slain within the span of a single moment.

"Well, if you're going to research his sword, I wanna see your arm." Gareth said, fervently interested. "How did you keep the essences from repelling and attracting? What do they use? How much damage can it really handle? Does it feel like a real arm?"

For once, Gareth was reverting to his old, guild self. It'd been a long time. He hadn't really needed to worry about research any more once the apocalypse had hit. He had more important things to worry about - like his wife and his people. But, if Erik's arm could pave the way for even more improved weaponry or defensive technology, he certainly wanted to take advantage of it.

By this time, however, both Ezrea and Vol'tar were slumbering peacefully. All that remained now was to wait patiently for this apparent Lord of Conviction.

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Saraph continued to walk this path. . Saraph walked with determination and strength in his steps. He had to find Vol'tar one way or another. He clinched his fists as the rugged terrain started to heat up. Was this truly a mountain or was something else? Saraph continued, not looking back, . Allia was guiding in the direction of Vol'tar. Just what was Vol'tar? What was he doing in a place like this? A mountain range that looked treacherous with giant cliffs and below was a drop that appeared endless. No matter what obstacles waited him we will overcome them. Was this faith or destiny leading him on. Was it faith or destiny that led him on? Did he simply have faith that he'd find him or was he destined to do so? Perhaps, it was a little of both . Whatever might happen Saraph would not find him for he was in his territory. Who knows what lurks around every corner or hiding in the darkness of this mountain. Then Saraph heard Vol'tar speaking to the group.

"Vol'tar... my name is Saraph Derek. I wish to speak with you," said Saraph as his voice echoed along the mountain.

"A demon I fought named Beraial told me to find you. I do not know why he told me to find you. Yet, here I am." said Saraph as he stopped to actually started think about it.

Vol'tar had to know something. Did Beraial figure out something or did he learn something. Pointing him is this direction to Vol'tar?

"All I seek are answers to questions..." said Saraph as he stopped grabbing his left.

This was the arm that got scarred on the day of Allia's death. The day that he hid himself from the world, but not anymore.

"Questions that I need answers to." said Saraph with eyes of pure determination reflecting his will.

For some reason, deep inside. Saraph felt as if he did not need to speak to Vol'tar.

While everyone else spoke to the great demon, Saraph found himself wandering along a ledge that led away from the path to a clearing.‏ Allia was walking before him, very clearly now.She was almost no longer an illusion. She was something that you could alomost touch.He felt if he reached out, he would feel her soft skin as when she was a live.‏He almost fell when he put his arm out for her and began to realize just how far up he was - and how narrow the ledge was. But as long as Allia led the way forward, he would follow without question and hesitation. Allia stood at the entrance pointing in this direction. This passage way look as if built in the side of the mountain. Saraph stared at the passage trying to see what lied ahead. At the moment he saw nothing even if something was in there he was not backing down. He starting walking towards the path that was in front him.Trying to see what lay ahead. Saraph kept a wary eye out for anything lurking within the depths. It seemed however that rocks were all that were in his way - he couldn't see to avoid them because of the dark ground. It was as if the shadows themselves were trying to provide a form of obstacle. Saraph took this slow and easy trying to not fall. After traversing the through the darkness of the corridor, he saw light. Yet the heat was getting intense. Saraph was beginning to sweat. As Saraph made it out he found that he was standing at the mouth of a great crevice which resembled a volcano. But, was it truly?

 

(Ty Thael for helping on parts for this smile.gif )

Edited by HellFireSouLess

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Erik straightened his stance and tilted his head to the side, looking at Gareth as he questioned the construction of his arm. Taking another quick glance at the blade, Erik sighed and moved next to Gareth, holding his arm up and pointing to various sections as he began to explain the key points he had been asked.

"Let me start with your last question. Yes, it feels like a real arm. Took a little bit to perfect it, but through proper wiring and a couple of implants, I have a sense of touch. It's restricted to my fingertips primarily so I'm not in pain every time some monster decides to bang on the rest of my arm.

Which leads me to the next point of interest. You ask how much damage it can actually take, yes? Well, I can't exactly give you an exact answer on that part. You see, my body can't handle the stresses that my arm can. Think of it like a suspension bridge, where the strongest support is near the main beams while it's relatively weak in the center. Too much weight applied to the center and the bridge falls, yes? So, I can't accurately gauge what kind of damage it can take when I'm limited myself. As of late, not so much as a scratch to it.

Now, as for the final bits and probably the most important, I have them chambered into different points. An Omega's essence is absorbed in the top chamber, nearest my shoulder. It generates the most energy and provides me with the base strength I tend to use, but a full out attack can do quite a bit of damage. Beta is chambered in the elbow and is the larger chamber of the three. Mainly cause I use it the most and it practically draws my targets in every time I strike. Lastly, Alpha is chambered in my hand and provides me some recuperation time from the small fry. It's like a mini-generator, so to speak, in that it throws up a small shield for me when I get a little overwhelmed, but I haven't had to use it, so..."

Erik dropped his arm back to his side as he finished with the power point explanation. Turning to face Gareth, the boy began examining his demon arms and his eyes widened. This was something fascinating!

Looking at his arms for a moment and then back at Rei's sword, a grin began to spread across his face and he had to restrain himself from bouncing up and down like a child about to get a piece of cake. Indeed, this was a wonderful discovery of sorts.

"You might not be able to see it, but the essence of those arms of yours and that which radiates off of the blade. They're very similar, yet very different at the same time. Like the DNA of a parent and their child. Vol'tar speaks of his Lord, yes? And that his species is tied to that Lord specifically? Well, it just so happens that your Demon Arm must have a similar tie with not just the blade, but Rei himself as well.

Do you see where this is going?

This monster that gave you these weapons is tied to Rei. So, if my assumptions are correct, if Rei had been in the presence of this beast while it still lived, he might have had the capability of commanding it. In other words, Rei is this Demon Arms master.

That makes me wonder..."

Looking back at Rei for a moment, he watched for a moment as he conversed with Tina, probably asking questions in relation to their mutual positions. They were both half-demons, anyway. Yet, he wasn't exactly watching the two converse. Rather, he was studying the essence Rei was giving off and it was definitely something else. Looking to Vol'tar a moment, then back at Rei, and then back at Gareth's Demon Arms, Erik finally seemed to be piecing whatever bits of data he had acquired together.

"Alright, these essences also seem to have a kind of color coordination to them. It's probably what helps the demons identify internal leadership. Rei's essence gives off a kind of fiery red glow, as does the sword and your Demon Arms. Vol'tar here, gives off an entirely different color, a sort of dark, ocean blue color.

You're familiar with military customs in that different units utilize separate patches identifying where they belong? Well, I believe these colors have a similar meaning. If other demons can indeed see these different hues, then I'm certain it's part of some sort of hierarchy established by these Lords. Better yet, a more suitable representation would be a nations flag. Ah, I wish you could see what I could and then it'd make better sense."

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Lords. That's what they're called. Demon Lords. That's what they say they are to us.

I don't really understand the whole story, unfortunately. It's all a bunch of mismatched translations and close meanings.

We can't really fully and completely comprehend exactly WHAT they are, either. The demons say they're a mystery to anyone but their closest advisers. To make matters even more complex, they say that even the Lords themselves don't know what they are - and that's not the strangest part of this whole, mysterious tale.

According to the demons, the Lords are both an ideal and a being. They represent a certain, powerful truth which governs their lives. It's almost like they are less of Lords and more of Commandments, which I find extremely fascinating.

But it becomes even more intriguing when I asked the demons to name the Lords. Every time they did, they named nine of the ten - which I will discuss more later on, of course - but all of them utterly refused to even mention the barest hint of the tenth's true name.

But why? For what purpose was he so sacred to them? It was then that one of the demons asked me for something with which to write. After a few hours, the demon had written - in his tongue - something he said would tell me the answers I sought. It was a thin stack of papers covered in script that resembled English and Latin letters but with strange phonetics. After a long while of translation and excruciating amending, I managed to bring forth a very odd set of poems, five sets, two to each. The demons had watched me during this process every now and then, curious to see what I had learned from the scrolls. One of them continuously brought me food and other necessities so I could focus on the translation. The act of kindness only made me more interested in this work. In fact, when I tried to turn away and put them down, the demons watched me with worry. They seemed to expect the very letters of the work to leap from the paper at any moment.

By now, I had grown extremely confused. I considered going to Gareth or Ezrea for assistance, since they had more connections to these demons socially and could probably find one who would give me answers. Yet, at the same time, I felt like this text was something that I was supposed to solve myself.

By the end of it, on the last page, the demon had written the title of the prose. Confused, I worked hard to translate the last word, which said Lor'kuz, dis Kahn. After a bit of work, I discovered that it literally meant Master's Purity, this Praises. Now, I was EXTREMELY curious to know just what I was dealing with. Master? And they were praising his holy nature? Was that all?

When I tried to mouth the words, one of the demons immediately covered my mouth. I almost screamed at how quickly he had done it. He put a finger to his own lips and pointed at the last page, eyes wide.

"We never say that word, Kuz'mahn." the demon whispered, his voice respectful.

"And why not?" I had asked him, looking at the paper oddly.

"He'll hear you."

 

The demons departed from my study, leaving me to consider what had just happened with as much mentality as I could muster. For some reason, I was forced to believe them and gave the word the same respect they gave it. Now, for them, I simply call the book the Holy Ballad of Domination.

But when I told them that, they chuckled. Domination, in our tongue, didn't mean nearly as much as their word for it did. Their word meant a true ruler, the true king, the one who controlled not just the people but the spirits within them, who held thrall over a burning world as the ashes filled the skies.

A man - no, a being - who sat upon a throne, immortal, ever-watching, ever-waiting. But his Lords -his vassals - apparently are not forced to serve him, according to the demons. From what they know, the Lords have paths of their own.

But they are mighty in their own right. They warned me that if we should ever gaze upon a Lord ourselves and witness his or her mortal form, we should show the respect they deserve.

For demons, I would equate the Lords to deities - or even Gods.

The Lords embody a single, inarguable truth that they spread like doctrine or code to those who follow them. In that fashion, they hold their own demon groups in thrall, like serfs.

However, from their descriptions and the amount of power they are said to wield, I shudder to think what these Lords could do to our world if the thought came to them. If, indeed, these Lords still exist and truly have the power they are said to possess, there is little even Demon Arms could do to them as they are. If one were to see them, their lives could very well be in danger.

Indeed, because one thing is certain - these Lords are not mortal. Pity, to us, may be a useless thing to them. Mercy may be something cast aside. If they saw fit, from what I gathered, they could sunder entire continents with a sweep of their hand.

What, then, could they do to us?

 

Rilley, Charles. Treatise on Demon Hierarchy and Belief.

 

-------

 

Lords are not mortals. Unlike beings with finite lifespans, killing a Lord is difficult and virtually impossible. They can be wounded, mortally or not - though it couldn't be called mortally to them - but unless it is done in a certain manner, they can rise again from the ashes like demonic phoenixes.

Healing, however, is a bit of a bother for a Lord. It can take an immense amount of time - based on the amount of damage they've received - for a Lord to fully regain their powers and health. Yet, there are loopholes to this. One of these is heat on a high scale.

Unbeknownst to the group above as they spoke to the Winged Behemoth, one Lord lay directly below them, within the mountain upon which they sat. As Erik had said, it was not coincidence that the dragon had chosen this place to rest his form for the time being. It was necessity, because a Behemoth is always called to protect their master.

Vol'tar's first task had been simple - bring the ones chosen to the mountain's peak, where they now sat and spoke. As the Behemoth of Conviction, any task given is simple to complete. It simply takes a bit of determination - something it has in grand amounts. Now that the ones were gathered, it was a matter of waking.

His mind began to grow aware once again. He sat at the bottom of the great volcano, the lava swirling around him with a mind of its own. For the Lord of Conviction, those within his presence gained sentience - wills - of their own for a fleeting moment. Such was the power which poured endlessly from his armored form, his blood-red cloak swirling around him.

As Saraph stood in the crater where he had entered, the magma below him began to bubble and froth like boiling water, rising steadily as though to erupt. For a long while, all could be heard was the sound of rocks scattering and lava rising from the depths, swirling and mixing within itself. The lava seemed to have a mind of its own, rising as tendrils from the depths to claw at the sides of the crater wildly.

Then came the hand.

From the surface of the lava, clad in shining, hardened metal, a hand burst forth and grabbed the side of the crater. Stone cracked at the force as another landed by it, sending magma everywhere as a being began to lift himself slowly from the molten rock.

It dripped from his form, sliding down the metal without burning or melting it in the slightest. Now he seemed to be rising without having to climb, his body lifting into the air. A cloak flipped around him, billowing in an unseen wind, sending the remaining lava on his form in all directions. Somehow, the magma seemed to avoid Saraph as it soared from the being, landing behind him in an arc.

The Lord's feet finally gained purchase on the outside of the pool, steam still rising from his entire suit of armor. The lava retreated back within the pool, cooling with a loud hiss as the source of its heat left it behind.

For a long while, the only sound that filled the chamber was the sound of the molten rock receding and returning to a solid form, as well as the steam that rose from the Lord's body. He seemed to be looking Saraph over through unseen eyes, his head clad in an armored helm that made his face invisible. Now, it was actually a suspicion if there was even a body within that armor at all, or if it - too - had a will of its own.

The creature slowly turned left and right, seemingly at ease. It then held out a metal hand, its armor making a slight noise with the effort.

"Kahlvolgul."

The voice didn't seem to come from him but from within those who heard him, from the depths of their tenacity, making one feel as though they had the ability to do anything they wished. Though his body looked menacing, his words filled those who heard him with a sudden faith and pride, a form of vigor that seemed endless.

Almost as soon as he said it, pages began to form from nothingness. They swirled around his armor-clad hand, touching it and sliding across it in a dance. More and more of the pages appeared, beginning to coalesce into a shape within his grasp.

When it finished, a large, unknown text lay between his fingers. He brought the book to his chest, opening it to look within. Again, silence filled the room as he began to turn the pages, his face never moving from gazing upon it.

"Vol ton...." the being mused, his voice seeming to be directed at Saraph. "Tul. Tul'tul. Vol ton un'dim. Tov fiq. Kor fiq. Dis yan."

He turned back to the opening of the cave. Sighing, he made a swing with his hand.

There was no sound as the cave exploded, sending shards of rock flying in all directions from the top of the mountain. Vol'tar raised his head immediately as the Lord now gazed upon him in the sunlight. There was a discernible tone of pleasure in his voice as he spoke, walking towards the group as though nothing had happened.

"K'kor, Vol'tar." the Lord said with approval as he walked, ignoring the people who were staring at him. "Tov kor eh'Sil. Tov kahn. Sil fim."

The Lord walked with an inhuman elegance and patience as he approached Vol'tar. Once he was in range, he placed a hand on the great being's face, rubbing the demon's scales with contentment.

The behemoth seemed absolutely pleased with this new development. He moved his head slightly so that it would be easier for the Lord to reach him. The Lord then turned towards the group, his feelings unknown.

"....Hel'loh." he mustered, his voice now coming from him rather than those around him. For once, it sounded uncertain. Yet he said it anyway and it still carried with it a presence that should not be questioned. He moved away from the Behemoth, now standing before them.

He waved his hand, forming some sort of aura of energy. Images began to brew within the aura, forming pictures that had lives of their own. Some looked like members of the group. Yet, others, which they had not yet seen... they were most definitely the other Lords.

"You have a path ahead of you." the Lord stated, his voice unwavering. "Each of you. You came here by decree. I chose you. This is why. Each goal is as necessary as the next. Each path just as important as all others. For either selfish gain or not, each goal must be accomplished for victory to be achieved."

He released the image as he began stepping towards Rei, hand extended, unwavering. He clasped his fingers around Rei's skull softly yet firmly, his steps halting as he did so.

"Ven'kahl lies within you. This is the first goal. Begin the purification or die by it. Your choice and your will define you here, now. It is your decision if Ven'kahl or Rei is the one who holds thrall within. I will give you the power you need to choose."

 

-------

 

As Gareth sat there, watching, the Lord stepped passed him. All of this was happening at once, and this being of power unknown was doing things as though he had planned this for years or centuries. Just what kind of power did this thing HAVE?

"What happened?..." Ezrea moaned, yawning. She was half-asleep. The explosion from the mountain had awoken her slightly, since it hadn't been loud itself but the rockfall had been noisy.

"He did." Gareth stated, pointing. Ezrea followed his finger to look at the armor-clad being that was now standing before Rei. Her eyes widened. She shifted slightly in Gareth's arms.

"Do you STILL want to punch him?" Gareth asked, slightly confused.

"I want to but I won't. I'm not THAT crazy." Ezrea assured. "What's he doing?"

"I have no idea." Gareth was still engrossed in looking at him.

The Lord was definitely not like a normal demon. His form, though human in appearance like the Beta could be, radiated energy from every angle. His actions were direct, with a lot of thought behind them that emphasized his strength.

But it was his power which truly fascinated Gareth. Earlier, as the Lord had stepped towards them, the grass below his feet had seemed to have a mind of its own as his foot landed upon it, turning back to still grass as his foot left it. Gareth began to understand that he gave everything a will the minute he came in contact with it, bestowing upon it a mind to reason.

Now he understood why Conviction was furious with whoever was placing these shackles upon his children. Someone outside of his realm of control was causing problems with his chosen followers and he was quite irate.

But how could humans help if being of such power couldn't do it himself? Why had he chosen them? What could they offer?

Gareth thought about this as he watched the Lord of Conviction with a wary eye, intrigued by his current actions. He'd probably find out soon enough.

 

-----

 

The Lord's hand upon Rei would feel warm and powerful. The Lord bestowed upon him the force of will to challenge Ven'kahl within the arena of his mind, allowing him to truly decide who would be the ruler of his mortal form.

Within Rei's skull, there was indeed a second soul. But it wasn't a single entity - it was an aspect. Ven'kahl, the Lord of Aggression, lay within the confines of Rei's mind, chained by Rei's will alone. Yet, as demonstrated, he could break those chains and force Rei to obey him, transforming the poor man into a demonic abomination with only rage as its true goal.

Conviction knew this well. He also knew he was Aggression's mortal enemy. Where Aggression influenced his followers to use power without purpose, Conviction led his to use power for a cause. Their battles never gained ground. Conviction's followers were not as strong as Aggression's - who grew in power based on their personal fury as well - but they could be more direct in their attacks. It was the battle of the juggernauts vs. the phalanxes.

Admittedly, though the group didn't know it, Conviction had been surprised and curious to hear that a mere human male had been able to take Aggression's power for his own. He'd immediately set out to find this chosen one and had then heard of the rest of these people. Then, it had been a simple matter of getting them to rise up and follow him.

Enter Saraph - the boy with a single, true goal after the death of his beloved. Though it should have been an impossible feat for a mortal, Saraph's one purpose was to bring this woman - Allia - back to life. It had been intriguing - to the Lord - that humans seemed willing to pursue such maddeningly, most-likely impossible goals. Things that mortals couldn't do without the help of magic or the powers of gods.

Three men. He had chosen three above all who had wills that rivaled those of his own. Three mortals. They who had demonstrated that they would go to great ends to achieve goals that may not even be possible by normal means.

So, he, in a way, had taken pity upon them. But also, he showed them great respect. He would help give them the power they needed to achieve their goals.

He removed his hand from Rei's face, nodding.

"It is up to you now. Your decision means everything, here. But you are not the only one."

He turned to face Saraph, now fully staring upon him.

"Zul'yu tov." he remarked, his entire form facing Saraph now. "You are an example of that which I sought. You were the first, young one, because of your goal. Your purpose. I know it well. It is one many of your race have had during the course of this war. But you are special."

He stepped towards Saraph so that he was now close enough to place a hand upon his shoulder. It was filled with respect and dignity. In this way, the Lord seemed like some form of father or older brother. He nodded approval.

"El'tov?" he asked. "You know of your power, I believe. You trekked across a burning wasteland for months. You walked among demons more than your own kind. You have defeated many of my kind that approached you. It is your reasoning behind it that interested me the most."

He removed his hand from Saraph's shoulder and waved his hand. Before the entire group, Allia began to form. She was not made of flesh but some sort of energy, ghostly and incandescent. Yet, her smile was still filled with warmth.

"She was within your blade. However, she could speak to you, only feel your pain. She was the reason I noticed you. I guided her to lead you across the Wilds as she wished so that I could test your resolve.

You followed this woman through hell several times over, just for the one, slim chance that you could bring her back to you. But why? Demon goals are realistic.. attainable. I have never seen a race so eager to follow things that shouldn't be possible. You show such pure Conviction, such hope and faith, that I know that you can do what I have not been able to do. But you, Saraph, are the first of the three. You represent a very powerful part of Conviction - Hope, and I will reward you for it. Your Hope shines in these dark times. I want to see that continued."

He waved his hand again.

The spirit of Allia suddenly seemed strange. She looked around, confused, and then laid eyes upon Saraph. Immediately, she embraced him, seemingly in tears. Gareth was awestruck.

"She has no corporeal form as of yet. I have simply given her a will of her own again, her soul returned. She has been freed from the bonds of your sword. I wish that I could do more but that is not my place." Conviction said regretfully. "No. That is the work of another. She lies behind the Doors, in my world, where we must next go. She will help you regain your beloved's body. She is the aspect of Creation, who can form anything of nothing. With her help, you will regain Allia once more."

He then turned back to the group. He laid his eyes upon Gareth now, walking towards him with purpose.

"You." he said simply, moving so that he towered above Gareth where the giant sat upon the ground. Ezrea and Gareth both looked up at him.

Ezrea coughed.

"I think you have the wrong guy." Ezrea gestured to Gareth, smiling. "This big lug can't do much besides take up space."

"That is certainly untrue. You are a lucky woman." Conviction commented. "Gareth represents a second piece of Conviction, another shard of three. His unwavering Faith that the world can still be saved and his Faith in those with him are powerful attributes. Has he ever doubted someone?"

Ezrea blinked, then frowned thoughtfully. She turned to Gareth, suddenly curious.

"...No... he's never doubted anyone." Ezrea whispered. "But that's just naivety that will get him killed like the idiot he is."

"No. He is far from simply naive. This man has utter Faith in others as well as himself. He built a city and led people across a wasteland that others would have left to die because he had Faith in them. He allowed demons within his town because he had Faith in them. He came here with Saraph because he had Faith in him. And if he trusts someone, don't others do the same?"

Ezrea, now fully stunned, nodded. For once, she felt as though the man was right. Gareth looked at him, embarrassed.

"It's not that big of a deal. It was Allia that taught me to do that." Gareth smiled.

"I know. Another reason why I find this woman so strange. This single girl impacted two men so much that they changed more than they had ever done while she lived. A single woman influenced so much determination and will. It's strange. Each of you three has a woman who affected you so much that you altered that which others had placed and deemed unable to be changed. At first, Gareth, that was your sister. Now, it is this young woman here, who you have utter Faith in, who you trust with your life."

Gareth turned to Ezrea. She looked away, blushing furiously once again.

"J-just because this Lord idiot says that doesn't m-mean I believe it!" Ezrea stuttered, flustered. "B-besides, why would you trust someone like me like that?!"

"Well, I married you." Gareth hugged her, still looking up at Conviction. "But what can my Faith do?"

"It can, as it has, lead others to what they must do. Saraph's Hope will keep you from falling into despair on your journey. Your Faith will help you carry on when you should fall. But it is the third who will provide the last piece of the trio."

He pointed at Rei.

"He represents the third aspect of Conviction, Will. His Will will help you overcome all trials as well as his power. But it is up to him if he can regain his Will against Ven'kahl, the true enemy of Conviction - Aggression."

"Heh... I have... Faith in him." Gareth joked. Ezrea immediately rolled her eyes, sighing.

"That was terrible."

"Hey. It works." Gareth responded.

Conviction was still gazing at Rei, his eyes and thoughts unseen and unknown.

"Ex kahl tov deus." Conviction remarked quietly at Rei, his cloak swinging in the wind upon the mountain. "Tov ton vol k'kor."

Gareth and Ezrea looked at Rei as well, concerned.

Now it was up to him.

Edited by Thaelasan

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Zulfiqar blinked at the large demon creature that spoke to him, pausing in his perusal of the demon. Well, he didn't know that, but he didn't particularly care either if his reasoning abilities came from some other demon's lord. Whoever they are, they did such a swell job of it. Really, they did. He rolled his pupil-less eyes at the dragon-demon before going back to sniffing its hide, successfully ignoring all conversations between the meatballs and the demon he was crawling all over.

His investigation of the huge demon was thwarted when something strange was happening with the magma and rocks, the noise distracting Zulfiqar on where he was going. He ended up sliding off the far side of the demon he had been crawling over, landing in a heap on the ground below, missing the fiery display. He could still feel the strange power emitting from the fiery lights and its voice, however, and it felt... weird. His mane flickered and rose as if to stand on end. The demon's fire deflated after a moment and visibly pouted when he peered around the larger demon's side and saw that there was a new demon standing near the head of the flying demon and...

Frack it all, what was it and boring conversations today?

There was some sort of stupid thing going on, like a life-or-death scenario, or a heroic quest, or some other sort of ridiculous thing that Zufliqar had no interest of listening in on. Part of his lack of attention was because he didn't have the attention span to actually listen to all the details of the conversation that was directed mainly to the gathered meatballs and had nothing to do with him, yet most of it was due to the fact that his attention was drawn to the shiniest armor Zulfiqar had ever seen, and the new demon was wearing it.

Immediately he wanted to know what this guy tasted like to help him settle his case in convincing Gareth to letting Zulfiqar bring this new guy home to his horde.

With the new demon's back turned, and all the others' attention on it, Zulfiqar sprung into action. Lowering himself close to the ground, the demon began to creep forward, his tail swishing from side to side in suppressed excitement. The other demon was busy blabbering away, and so it was distracted from Zulfiqar's creeping, or so the demon presumed. As soon as he got within range, the boar-like demon's long tongue came out, and proceeded to lick the back of the yabbering demon's heel and leg. It tasted like that black powder stuff that Gareth told him never to eat or have any of the other demons' get close to because it was sensitive to heat and could ignite, or something like that. Zulfiqar reasoned that Gareth told them to stay away because that stuff tasted so good, and it crackled in the mouth, which was amazingly hilarious.

Zulfiqar decided that this demon was so totally worth taking home- although he had to do something with it's talking. That could get tiresome after awhile.

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This had been a first for Rei, or what he suspected to be a first anyway. Something stood before him, that bolstered such strength and power that it seemingly radiated off its body like light from a light bulb. As it approached Rei the first time, his grip tightened around Karin's and she felt the heat swell within him.

As Conviction gripped his head, inserting the strength of will for Rei to fight against his inner demon, a war began to break out. Rage, anger, aggression, it all began to swell so immensely and quickly that Rei didn't know what to do. Karin decided to not take any chances, with how tense Rei was currently getting, and completely suited up in her demonic armor.

Just as Conviction finished his statement in regards to Rei being stronger than the demon within him, he doubled over in a yell while clutching tightly at his head. Nothing in the world could ever prepare him for the battle he was undergoing. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced before. Whatever this was, the beast dwelling within him wanted out like never before and Rei wasn't ready.

Below him, the ground began to steam and crack, while the air around him swelled with the immense heat his body was giving off. Flames began to flicker off his back and then his whole body lit aflame. Karin was trying her best to aid him, but the effort was showing little effect.

Slowly, his body began undergoing the transformation process. Bones began separating, growing, condensing, expanding. Muscles tore and multiplied, twisting and shifting under his skin. All of his organs felt like they were being stripped and replaced as they made their adjustments to handle the molten metallic-like blood that was going to be flowing through his veins.

On the outside, his skin seemed to bubble and crack, turning an ashy gray and then a molten black as it hardened into the armor-like substance that coated his entire body. As for his head, molten eyes glowed beneath the armored helm that he now donned while a pair of horns extended from his temples and behind his head, forming a sort of crown-like look.

As everything began to settle, a large explosion erupted off his body, knocking Tina back and forming a small indention in the ground beneath him. Dark flames flourished from his body like plants along the side of a river. A deep breath, followed by a cloud of smoke and ash, passed under the helm and into the air.

"Vol'kahl! Sil'yu'sar! Sil saz. Tov ek woh ex sar. Sil saz tov."

What voice came from the creature Rei had become, sounded nothing like him, but rather a volcano exploding and the winds howling. A single finger stuck out in the air, pointing at the other great beast before the group.

Edited by zakku_uchiha

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Minutes before Rei's transformation, Conviction had been standing for a long while, observing. Suddenly, on his leg, he felt a pressure. He quickly looked down, curious, only to find a Hellboar .... licking him?

"Tov bil'bluh!?" Conviction cried, awestruck. "What are you doing, young one? Is this... truly your only goal?"

He knelt down next to the demon so that he was eye-level - which wasn't hard, considering Zulf's size even on all fours. For a long while, he stared at the demon. Then, he held out his hand and scratched the demon upon his head, behind his horns. He seemed intrigued by Zulf's behavior.

"Such simple goals. But ones that you can reach. You have no true guiding purpose besides being with these people, do you?" Conviction remarked, continuing to rub the demon's fur with the tips of his fingers. "Tov bluh mahn. But this is not a bad thing. However, I suppose that you - too - should benefit since you also came here by your own will. You are truly a devoted friend to these people. I never thought I would see this, I will admit. Demons being friends to those who we attacked. Humans are strange but I suppose we are equally odd."

He stood to his full height, removing his hand from Zulf's skull with a nod. Behind him, Rei struggled fiercely with his demon but Conviction didn't seem to notice. He still stood over Zulf, pondering.

"I remember when I first gave Will to demons like you. I knew not of the consequences. But now I see that you are just as good as these humans are. You have learned from them. This is what should have been done, rather than what my brothers did to this world. What did we have to benefit from bringing our war into your world? Instead of joining under one purpose, we became enemies. This was not how it should have been."

He held out his hand, his book in his other. He flipped through a few pages until he came to rest upon one that seemed suitable.

"Kahn! Kahn! Tov'an yu Vol'kahl! Zul'fiq'kor, gel an'Vol'tar! Ton vol k'kor! Kahn! Kahn!"

He finished his chant, the book shutting softly.

"I have blessed you with the gift of Conviction. It is thanks for your representation as a benevolent demon to these humans. You have shown them that not all of us wish for their end. Well done."

He reached down to scratch him again when he heard the guttural, demon language spoken behind him. It definitely hadn't come from his behemoth. He turned slowly, book hanging at his side.

"Ven'kahl, tov BIK!" Conviction said angrily, pointing his left finger at Rei with fervor. "Das rei'yu'mahn un'ton! Das yu'sar! Tov kahl'yu'ek'dit! Tov dun bet!"

He lowered his finger back to his side, his fury subsiding. It would do no good for him to grow angry at this being of rage. He gestured for the rest of the group to move back, his gaze focused completely on Rei.

He had expected this as an outcome as well. Lords were not easy foes to defeat, either spiritually or not. Now, he would have to help Rei overcome this. With Ven'kahl out, Rei had to be fighting hard within him as they spoke. If he could weaken Ven'kahl just enough...

He held out the book, opening it in preparation. It wasn't a good situation as it was - Ven'kahl had his sword. This made him even more of a threat than he would have been without it.

"We'll help you!" Gareth said. Ezrea and himself had already stood to their feet, weapons bared. Conviction looked at them, concerned.

"You fought him before without his blade. With it, his powers are fully at his disposal. It will not be easy to best him, even with my help. His power overwhelms mine. All we have on our side is our will. I only hope I chose correctly."

The three now stood on the mountain, Vol'tar watching. When Rei had transformed, Vol'tar had made a movement to strike him but Conviction had held him back. That was only if absolutely necessary. They couldn't afford to have Rei die if he didn't have to.

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Ven'kahl blew out a stream of smoke and ash once more and stomped on the ground, the ground rumbling in return as the cracks spread through the opening. Yet, he did not move from his spot. Pulling his sword from the ground, the blade shone under the bit of light his body gave off and he held it out in front of him. As he did so, the blade began to elongate and widen until it suited Ven'kahl's tastes, it's edge beginning to glow dully as the very heat he radiated began to pass into the blade itself. Another burst of smoke and ash poured from under his helmet. Setting his sights on Gareth and Ezrea, once more he raised a finger, pointing it to them before speaking.

"Yun tov de. Sil'yu'sar bil han. Tov vol saz?"

Swinging the blade behind him, the ground splitting open and an eruption of rock and debris following afterwards, Ven'kahl took a stance and was about to lurch forward when something stopped him. Below him, Karin stood with her arms raised. Ven'kahl was not pleased with this and wished her disappearance, but his attempt at even moving his arms now had been severely restricted. Yet, inch by inch, the blade was raising into the sky and coming down towards Karin. Still, she did not move and refused to allow anyone to come near.

A foot above her head, Ven'kahl's efforts had been wasted as the blade came crashing into the ground to her right side. Rushing up to him, Karin wrapped her arms around the demon's waist and held herself there until one of its hands settled on her head. For a moment, she wasn't sure if this was the end and Rei truly had lost control or if this was a good sign. Her answer came when the hand began stroking her head.

"Dim... sil... ar. Sar ah bluh."

Looking up, Karin realized the demon had been looking down at her, it's armored face now reverting back into Rei's own flesh. Yet, the glow of its eyes seemed to seer into her gaze and it was a realization to her just how dangerous this could have been for her. Pulling Rei's body closer, she held it there until she could feel the tenderness of his body pressing into her armor. Once he had returned to normal, his skin held the appearance of being scorched, holding a dull red tone for quite some time and probably would for a while.

This had been the first occurrence where such dark flames had enveloped his body. So, Karin didn't know how long it would take his human body to heal. Even so, he patted the top of her armored head and smiled at her. Even knowing that he was probably in immense pain right now, he still managed to show her this bit of kindness no matter the situation. Burying herself into his chest, Rei continued to pat and rub the top of her head as he looked at the others.

"Let me ask something of you, Vol'kahl... you Demon Lords... where did you come from?"

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Zulfiqar froze for a second as the demon he licked reacted. Slowly he retracted his tongue back into his mouth and blinked at the demon's question. Well, yeah, it was one of his goals. He did want to know what it tasted like, after all. He wanted to say something snarky to the demon, but then a hand rose up and began administering the most amazing scratches ever, almost on par if not better than Gareth's.

A rumbling purr escaped Zulfiqar, his fiery tail thumping against the dry earth. The scratching sealed the deal that Zulfiqar was so going to take this demon home with him, and he wasn't going to ask Gareth either. But the scratching only lasted for a moment as the demon rose to its feet again. Zulfiqar pouted, staring up at the other with wide pleading eyes in attempt to get the demon to resume scratching him. The words coming from the demon went mostly over his head, only catching a few stray words that Zulfiqar did not retain in his memory. Scratches were more important than the blabbering.

Or, they were, until the demon pulled out the squiggle container and began chanting in the demon tongue. That drew Zulfiqar's attention, the demon sitting straight as he stared at the demon, taking in the words. His entire body was still- even his tail had stopped. A gift, he had been given, but... he didn't feel any different than before. Maybe it was just slow? Perhaps it was simply passive and he wasn't supposed to feel anything anyway?

Zulfiqar opened his mouth to ask what that was all about, but the demon was distracted by the demon-human who was not looking too human anymore. They were yelling at each other. Zulfiqar huffed, smoke trailing from his nostrils but backed away, circling behind Gareth and his mate. Of course those two would try to jump in, but they should know by now to let demons duke it out on their own. There wasn't a fight though, as the human-demon's caretaker distracted him, successfully calming him down. And then he asked another question, encouraging the talkative demon to talk even more.

Zulfiqar huffed once more before laying down on the ground, idly digging a hole with a claw. "This is so confusingly boring," he muttered under his breath. If he knew they were going on this adventure just to talk, he would've stayed home. All boring talk, no fighting, and a supposed gift that he had no idea what it did, if it was anything at all. At least the Fathered One would be more entertaining if he'd stayed behind. Such a disappointing trip this was.

 

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Legacies, they said. Legacies and legends. That's what we speak. Our words exit our mouths as law, as unquestionable truth. Knights enforce. Kings decree. We create.

And what do we create?

Great towers? They fall within days or centuries, whether by hand or time.

Majestic cities? They become infested and destroyed by outside force as well, weathered by forces beyond control.

Glorious lives? Lives are fleeting. Like everything else, they fall to time. Gods create lives easily, just to watch them fade away.

We create things that can never die - never end. We forge things that blacksmiths could never lay on an anvil. We sculpt things which an artist could never put to chisel. We build things which architects could never depict on blueprints and tables.

We build legends. Legacies. Things that never die. As long as we remain to speak them, these things shall be infinite and unending. Legends are stories that continue on, repeating even after they end.

Why do they continue?

Because people want to know the end of the story.

But our legends are far above the level of story. Stories are told by the weak-minded, to pass the time. They are forged on the spot by hands without the callouses of experience. They are sculpted at the time by chisels without the sharp edge of repetition. They are built for that moment by faded blueprints and half-hazard physics.

They do entertain... for a time. For perhaps a few generations. But sooner or later, they are doomed to be forgotten. They lack the power, the force, which keeps our legends alive. They have no substance, no soul, no rei, to keep them from fading into utter, complete nothingness.

The legends of my brethren - the legends I depict with my own hands - never die and are never forgotten. The souls of heroes live within them, giving them strength and might beyond the comprehension of the weak-willed and foolish. They are too powerful to be uttered by those without the mentality of a thousand years of experience. A single word from these legends and those feeble-minded bards would fall to their knees in tears, begging to be given the gift to speak these words.

This is not something simply given - this is earned. Each year of work and crafting, learning every word and emotion of our beautifully depicted tongue... learning how to weave the soul of a story into our legend, rather than just the body - it's all dreadfully necessary. If it were so simple to Speak, as we do, then the legends would be worthless and undesirable. Things spoken by the many become repetitive and boring. Things Spoken by the few become respected and beloved - and feared.

But I have risen above the feeble limitations of simple Speaking. Speaking is done by those below me, who repeat what I write in small fragments; they cannot read the full thing. They don't have the capacity to bring the whole story to life. But we allow them to speak mere fragments of the beautiful prose we forge, sculpt, and craft because it shows what we are capable of.

So when people call us just Speakers, Dae, I am unable to accept it. I do not simply Speak my stories, I Praise them, I bring them to glorious life before crowds of hundreds and watch as they fall to their knees in fealty to my power. Every demon who has heard my legends has never forgotten them and that is because they burn themselves into the minds of those who hear them, a sliver of the power they once possessed lingering on for eternity within that demon's skull.

This is the power of a true legend - the power of a Praise; a Kahn. That is why I stand at the King's side now and why I rise to that oratory each day to Praise the glorious sunrise just to watch it dim in awe. Even the sun shakes and turns away, unable to bear the heat and omnipotent might that my words hold.

I did not simply receive this blessing as a stroke of chance - I was taught for years by those who now look to me for guidance. I was raised strictly on a diet of language and religion, my only source of water the endless ocean of pages I translated under the watchful eye of my mentors. They who once looked down upon me, certain that I could not handle that which they gave me to perform. They who stepped behind me, their robes sliding across the floor in an irritating fashion that sounded like the sighs of the unimpressed. They judged me and thought me undesirable and useless.

But I had no time for their foolish beliefs and accusing stares. From that room they held me in, waiting for me to break and say I could not handle it, I rose like a phoenix. My wings were spread, beautiful, magnificent, and they all bowed before me as their new Deus'Kahn-Mahn. I am no simple-minded storyteller, who weaves small fancies and tiny tales of minimal glory. When I tell a story, my words are purifying flame, burning away the pitiful stories within the minds of those who hear me and replacing them with my Praise. Because what story could stand to sit in the same mind as that which held my glorious prose? Not one, not even those of those who once taught me.

They are all nothing to me now. I say this not out of arrogance or spite but of justified truth. I earned the right to say these things and that is why I write them here, now, so that those who find my works will understand whose Praises they may try to read - and fail.

No one but me can read my Praises with the same vehemence that I use them with. Any fool can read words from a page but no one can Praise them in the fashion that I can.

You may think that it's a joke - that you can take my books and read them as well as I. You may spurn my words and call me an arrogant fool. You may throw away my warnings and break your own will as a result - my words will not allow themselves to be read by the likes of the spiteful and ignorant. They will fight you and they will crush you like an insect.

These are not words. These are power. Power that only I may wield in the fashion that they deserve. But should you think yourself mighty enough to stand before a crowd and read my words then I will enjoy watching you suffer as they burn you from your soul outward. I will be watching you, even in death, as you tear your mind apart.

Knights enforce. Kings decree.

WE - I - create.

And only I will create these Praises which will become doctrine in the generations to come. They will look back at my writings with awe and fear, crying that I was able to call down the gods themselves from the heavens and judge them with my Praise. They would stand in their clouds, listening, and would be afraid of the gift they bestowed upon me.

Because I am no mere mortal any longer. I have transcended, far beyond the level of a Dae-Mahn. With the ten who follow me without question, I shall lead this kingdom to a new age of untold prosperity. As long as the King heeds my Praises as his people do, we will never fall.

My words will be stronger than any castle, keep, or door. Men and women could throw themselves upon them in anger and spite and would be thrown back and cast aside.

Knights enforce. Kings decree.

We create.

And we will do it until the end of time.

 

Das, Drah Zul yu Deus'Kahn-Mahn. The Fierce Pride of the God of Praises. Date Unknown. Author Unknown.

 

------

 

Kahn'Kahn-Mahn.

 

"Listen to the words of

the Speaker. Hear his cries.

From darkness and ignorance,

his words attempt to rise.

Our words are words of might,

not of simple, foolish make.

Where a Speaker tries to give,

those of Praise will ever take.

Give of self but never more,

and never achieve this gift.

Give of soul and of heart,

then with power you shall lift.

We know not of age or time,

they are walls for others.

Our stories freely move and flow,

and carry through our brothers.

Though entropy works against,

the small words of those below,

it tries in vain to break our text,

the words that all will know.

 

There is no god within the sky,

who can challenge what we speak.

They can perhaps crush the words

of the frightened and the meek.

But are words of strength and will,

are tougher than the strongest make.

Though they may try and try,

our words immortal shall not break.

Defy the words of those of Praise,

and fall into darkness and despair.

Follow with utmost, pure devotion,

and no blessing would compare.

We do not lead sheep to death,

we lead rulers to their throne.

The words we give to the world,

are stronger than ourselves alone.

They do not lie for gain or worth,

they tell only truth to those who hear.

Those who follow shall know glory.

Those who dishonor shall know fear."

 

----

 

He spoke these words, as he always did. No one else could do it. No other being of his caliber existed.

Those before him raised their hands to the sky, praising as best they could and repeating some of his words in the demon tongue they were born from. He could not suppress a small smile which always trailed his lips. Just a small word, a little piece, of his Praises gave them so much hope and faith. But they were not as powerful as the full text - which only he could speak safely.

When spoken improperly by the weak or misguided, Praises would always turn upon their users. He had seen men of his status go mad or blind from reading the words without guidance or care. They challenged their forefathers by trying to read the texts that had been passed down for generations.

They were fools. They read the Praises out of arrogance or greed. Of course they would be damned or punished for such misgivings.

But he, the man before this crowd now, read the Praises out of respect. They had turned him from a simple boy into a man with the power to turn the tide of war with a few words to the soldiers on either side. Warlords had tried for years to bribe him with gifts of wealth and flesh, the vices of the world that only the weak would accept. It was pitifully humorous to him how they begged and threw themselves at his feet, knowing that with him on the side of the King, they would be dead the minute they entered the battlefield.

He always showed them a bit of mercy, of course, if they did this. He would ask of his King to make their death swift. The King did as advised. They were rewarded for their mild acts of fealty, though misguided, with a clean and painless death at the hands of the King's dreaded headsman.

He was an enigma, indeed. Even he had to admit that. He had no known name. He was not affected by Praises as much as the rest. His faith only seemed to be in his axe and his King.

Well, it mattered little. The Prophet bowed to the audience. They screamed with familiar yells for the ever-desired encore, more of the words which gave them so much fervor.

But, of course, if he were to say Praises all day, they would lose their flavor, and he would grow weak. With a bit of sadness, he left the stage, allowing the King to take his place and do as he did with the crowd in such a state. Of course they would accept his decrees. With a man of such thought and strength at his side, surely the King must be blessed by gods.

Let them think as they will. The gods WISH they could have been responsible for this Prophet's power. They had nothing to do with it. He did not Praise the gods, he Praised the word.

Praising gods could be done by any man with simple belief. Praising the word which held them high, Praising the word which made heroes into immortals, which made servants into kings... that was true power.

Giving each word the force of a sword to a man's heart, the might of an army upon a castle... that was true strength. And this Prophet had it.

He walked back into the streets of the kingdom, unabashed. A few of his followers trailed behind him, hoping that he would speak.

Perhaps, today, he would - just to keep them on their toes. Perhaps not. In his line of work, it was all about patience.

And what did he have to worry about when it came to time? As long as he presided over this kingdom, it would never fall.

And soon, he would be able to walk through the doors of time, and Praise of things that had yet to even happen. Once he had that power...

Surely the kingdom would only to continue to grow in power with his clairvoyance. Time meant little to a Prophet whose words carried such weight.

He had nothing to worry about.

 

--------

 

When Zulf went to go sulk, Gareth (who was still looking at Conviction and Rei) walked over and began to scratch the poor demon. Ezrea sighed, rolling her eyes.

"He'll be fine. He's just as bored as I am." Ezrea said flatly.

"I know... but he's walked all this way for us. I feel like we should reward him somehow. This is all I can do right now." Gareth responded, turning back to Conviction.

 

------

 

Conviction looked at Rei with.. well, Conviction. He rubbed his helmeted chin with curiosity as well, trying to decide how best to phrase his answer. He made a mental note during this time to keep Karin as close to Rei as possible.

"Well, according to our texts upon the matter, the demon race was born of a great expanse of power, rising from flames and ash. However, when we were born, most of us possessed no wills. There were a few who did...." he trailed off, realizing that may not be what Rei meant.

"If you are talking about where we reside, we come from a world that resembles yours as it is now, though darker and even more destroyed. It's said it was once a beautiful, fertile landscape like your planet was before we came. Texts I have found from the ancient eras seem to support this claim. But as to what caused this .... change in our world, I do not know. Perhaps if you were to go there as planned, you would find the answers you seek.

As I said, you do not have to do as I ask, but should you wish to return your world to normal, find answers to your questions, and crush the despair that plagues your world and the people within, my world is your best option."

He turned away, pulling his book up to his face.

"You have some time to think about it, of course. My behemoth will be more than happy to accommodate you on a journey to the door, so that we do not have to travel across the Northern Sea. But it is up to you past that point. My behemoth loses his will the closer he becomes to the gate. It has taken all my power to break him free of the shackles which seem to plague him and his brothers. I will not force him to follow me within the gate proper. That is not my way."

He sat down upon a nearby stone, now looking like a normal man reading a large book - albeit covered in regal armor and adorned in red cloth.

Gareth shrugged.

"Well, if that's what you think is best, if everyone else goes, I'll go, if just to support them."

Ezrea snorted, displeased.

"That means I have to go too... just because I have to make sure you don't mess up and get everyone killed."

"I wouldn't have it any other way." Gareth said, continuing to scratch Zulf with pleasure.

Edited by Thaelasan

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Zulfiqar's eyes rolled to look up at Gareth, purring grudgingly as the human scratched him. At least he got scratches here, even if he was bored out of his mind. Gareth's mate was bored as well, but that's probably because there was nothing to beat half to death or to yell at. The demon continued to absent-mindedly dig a hole in the ground with a claw as he watched the humans, demon-humans, and the other demon interact. They were planning on going...somewhere, to get more talking done. Of course Gareth was jumping on the idea, his mate not as enthusiastic.

"I got nothing better to do," Zulfiqar grumbled through his purring as Gareth continued to administer the heavenly scratches. "As long as there's less boring talking and more action. I can't even pay frick'n' attention with you lot blabbering away like tomorrow's never going to happen." Besides, it would be boring going back to matchstick city by himself, and the Fathered One would jump down his throat trying to figure out where Gareth and his mate went off to. He would think that Zulfiqar had left them to die or something, but yet again, the Fathered One was always jumping to such terrible conclusions. He would probably think they had all met some tragic death if none of them returned within the next few days- or was it minutes? He could never get time intervals right...

"Gareth, did your hands get bigger in the last five time intervals?" Zulfiqar had noticed, much to his confusion, that for some reason that the hand that was scratching him seemed much larger than it usually did. He had been distracted between the scratches and the boring talking that he did not notice that the silly chanting the other demon had done had in fact done something, and it had taken a grand ol' time in taking effect.

Zulfiqar's large body had shrunk, now as tall on two legs as he had been when he had stood on all fours previously. He no longer sported a beast-like face, his appearance more human with a sharp nose and tall, angular face. His jaw was still rather large, the twin tusk-like teeth jutting out from behind his bottom lip retaining his more animalistic appearance. His eyes remained pupil-less, and his large horns adorned with the golden ornaments that Gareth had given him were there as well, curling from his head and towards his shoulders. His mane seemed more wild and unruly than before, or at least it seemed so due to the fact that most of it had migrated to the top of his head, reaching passed his shoulders. The flames spluttered from being present to leaving the dark fur behind, as if uncertain if to remain or not before flickering out of existence, leaving the fur-like hair a mixture of burnt grays and blacks with a fiery orange-red in color. The tail remained, flicking anxiously behind him. The rest of his body seemed to have taken on a more human appearance as well, apart from his feet which still seemed paw-like, although he had visible toes now. His hands, however, were the first thing he noticed, only because he looked down to the hole he was digging and realized that his hands were now fracking tiny.

He snapped his hand close to his eyes, staring at it for a long moment before flexing his fingers. "W-what happened to my claws?" he asked, his voice shaking as he stared in horror at his hand. He lifted the other hand, staring at the pair of them, not noticing how the fire in his hair decided to rekindle and sparked in his rising anxiety.

Zulfiqar turned his attention quickly to Gareth, staring at the larger human for a moment before realizing how much bigger the man was as well and snapped his gaze to the rest of him. The sight of his feet (or more importantly his more defined toes) caused the demon to let out an undignified squeak, shooting straight up into standing, where he staggered, unused to the change in size. "WHERE DID MY CLAWS GO?!" He waved his hands uselessly in the air about him, his tail swishing from side to side in panic.

The demon's gaze fell upon the other demon, and immediately blamed this predicament on him. "YOU! What did you do with me? Where are my claws?!" He stormed over to the demon, reaching out and clamping down on the other's shoulders, not noticing how his face began to slowly revert back to its more boar-like appearance. "What did you do to me?! I want my claws back! I- oh." He suddenly stopped, noticing how his fingers now sported the very claws he had been looking for, digging into the metal armor of the demon he grappled. Zulfiqar's face had also turned back to its more human appearance, and the fires in his furry hair had died out again once he realized he had found his missing claws. He slowly let go of the other demon, staring at his hands before flexing them. The claws retracted, then snapped back out again. Oh, they were retractable, like how they were when he was...bigger.

Zulfiqar's tail flicked from side to side still, although less of a panic than before. He played with his claws a few more times, just to see if it hadn't been a fluke before raising his hands to his face to see if anything else had changed. "Oh hell, I have forehead fur," he muttered, feeling the eyebrows present as he dragged his fingers across his face, feeling everything. His ears were normal though, which was a relief. He didn't think he could deal with human ears. He still felt tiny, or it was just an illusion of the feeling due to the fact that he was standing on two legs. Before he would've risen far above the others, but now he was just about the same height as he had been before while on four legs. It was really weird.

"Oh. OH! Gareth! Gareth! I can probably fit through windows now!" he cried out excitedly, his tail thumping against the back of his legs as the sudden occurrence of his small size could actually make him fit into way more places than before. He naturally forgot his previous panic and was now instead fueled with excitement. "I can actually go into the Fathered One's place without knocking anything over, and I can learn how to pick locks instead of breaking them so your mate doesn't keep scolding me for breaking into the building with all the crackly black powder!" An idea suddenly struck him as he practically leaped over at Gareth, plunging his hands into the human's clothing. "Gareeeeth," he said, his lips pulling back into a sharp-toothed grin. "I can use my hands to search pockets for shinies! I don't need to use my tongue!" He rummaged his hands around to prove his point, his hips wriggling in excitement. Oh, there was so many things he could do now!

 

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((Well I'm finally posting... hope it's alright, I had to tone it down a lot))

 

These human cities were amusing, many of the populace believed that they were safe. They acted without much worry of attack, they were aloof in their belief that nothing bad could happen to them in such a densely populated area; carefree. This amused Cadliel a great deal, why would someone feel safe just because there were others around he would wonder to himself. Just because there was someone with them didn’t mean that they would be excused from danger. If anything it made them a more likely target because a larger group of people would require a larger group to attack. A larger group meant a wider variety of attackers and greater diversity in weapons. If you were alone all someone would need would be a knife; if you had a friend the attackers would bring something bigger, a plank of wood each? Instead of each bringing a knife to match the people, they would bring an extra person as well as a better weapon. Which means; the larger the group of people, the worse the weapons.

Of course strength in numbers was real and humans had a stubbornness to them when it came to dying; they refused to. Cad didn’t enjoy that, why would they refuse to die when there was no hope… of course if they didn’t refuse than he couldn’t have some fun with them. He looked down at the body he was sitting on; it was a male and he possessed a pretty rugged appearance, torn clothes lots of hair… although some of the torn clothes weren’t the man’s fault. Cad poked at the man’s stomach, he may have been a beggar but he was quite portly. He had wanted to play a little longer with the man before his passing, but a grunt had caught the taste of an easy meal on the wind and had come to investigate. The silly creature provided him a An for Cads toy and then tried to go for him, two things that Cad didn’t agree on.

Cadliel turned his gaze to the hellhound lying next to him, it was rather small, about the size of those Shepard Bis he’d seen the humans in possession of. Cad chuckled, the head of the beast was currently being pawed at by a stray Du further down the alleyway. If there was anything he liked in this world it would be Du's, they liked to play with their food just like him, he had a respect for their kind.

When he’d arrived the man had been begging for water and clawing at his throat and eyes, apparently he couldn’t see. The man had begged cad for water but unfortunately all Cad had was his own drink and he was hesitant to give it. The man was quite annoying, he had then begged Cad to fetch a doctor after cad gave him a small amount of his drink, insisting that there was a painful feeling in his chest. Cadliel let the man know that he could help and he proceeded to operate on the patient removing the thing that caused him pain. But then that Gak’bis arrived and proceeded to ruin his fun!

Cadliel looked down at the man, there was a small trail evident from his mouth from where Cad had spilt his drink, the small spray on his cheeks made him look like he was blushing in death, a strabge sight. Cad casually slapped the man’s cheek, he looked like he was sleeping peacefully, something Cad had tried to ensure wouldn’t happen. He clapped his hands on both the cheeks and heard a satisfying smack as his cheeks rippled. Cad grabbed the cheeks and pulled on them, stretching his lips. Releasing them he flicked at the mans nose.

“Hmm, you know what… I think I can make further use of you my friend,” Cad said, smiling happily at the man.

“All I need are a couple places to thread the needle!” Cad quickly went to work fixing up the man for his idea.

“Don’t worry my friend, you won’t have to worry much longer, you’ll be famous! No longer will you live in the alley starving” He mused, casually poking at the mans portly stomach. Cad looked down at his shirt, he’d spilt a lot more of his drink than he’d planned, he would need to change his shirt before returning to the public eye. He crouched down and then hefted the mans body up onto his shoulder. He walked over to the Du still holding the mans body over his shoulder, he reached down and picked up the Bis head. The Du scurried away from him and then hissed. Cad tilted his head, hurt from it’s harsh actions.

“You don’t want me to take your toy away? I’m sorry I know I shouldn’t but… It was mine first!” Cad said, daring the Du to come after it. He grunted slightly, this man was quite heavy and holding up the Bis head in his other hand meant he couldn’t support the man properly.

Gel’sil du. Ak, zul, un’tov. Kahn Kahl’Mahn! Cad exclaimed at the Du, hoping it would understand sarcasm, as he struggled to climb up a ladder towards the roof.

 

He reached the roof and with a splat deposited the man’s body on the concrete. He chucked the Bis head after the body and pulled himself up, bending over to catch his breath.

Kahn indeed,” he said shaking his head as he gazed at the body.

“My friend, my friend, why are you so heavy? You clearly ate far too much, next time can you please not” Cad requested. He walked over to the body and kicked it’s head. There was a crack and it flopped to the side. Cad tilted his head and lifted up the head, it’s jaw seemed really loose, Cad frowned and dropped the head with a thud back onto the concrete.

“Wait here, I’m going to get some rope,” He told the body. Looking over at the building on the other side of the alley he noticed a cord running up the side. Walking over to the edge, two blades extended out from his bare feet, impaling into the concrete as he bridged the gap using them as both crampons and stilts. He grabbed at the cable and sliced through it quickly, then pulled a large quantity down. Retracting the blades in his feet, he skipped over back towards the body and the Bis head.

“Here we are! This seems really strong, but I’ll need to widen the holes a bit if I want it to fit!” Cad shivered in happiness as he widened the holes so that the chord would fit.

“There! If we just wrap it around your neck it could look like a necklace! With a pretty ornament, I know I’d be jealous!” He exclaimed as he admired his handiwork, poking the Hellhounds head. He wrapped some of the chord around the man’s neck and frowned, it was really dull, how would it be seen in the dark? Cadliel opened up his drink and casually dowsed the chord in the colourful liquid.

“Wait I know! Let’s put a message in it! We can use the leftover rope to tie a message… but what message I can’t really think of any, and I want it to be Ak… Ah, I know!” Cad exclaimed in joy. He bent down and quickly began tying chord to read Hel’lo, it was a little difficult, the chord didn’t want to bend that far but he managed after thinning it a little. Cad giggled in joy at the site of his finished work, it was brilliant! The silly humans wouldn’t know that Hel’lo was an insult, they really were pathetic Mahns. The best part would be the looks on there faces when they saw his masterpiece! Cad crawled over to the edge of the building facing the road and peered down, there were a fair few people around even when the time was considered, but none were looking up. Now would be the best time, he concluded. He hurried back over to the body and quickly threaded the chord through the holes and fed the strong chord through them, it also had the benefit of applying a second coat of colour. He then dragged the body over to the edge of the roof and secured the chord, briefly glancing off to make sure no one was looking. When he was assured he slowly eased the body off of the roof. Cad lowered it slowly so that it wouldn’t snap and his hard work would be broken, thankfully the chord seemed to be holding. When he finished he ran off the roof. He would need to change clothes and get into a good vantage point to see their reactions. Leaping off the opposing side of the building a blade shot into the wall and slowed his decent. The small demon than hurried off into the darkness, ripping his bright red shirt apart so that no one would suspect someone of his stature was the artist.

 

((Any complaints let me know))

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Saraph could not believe it, Allia was here. He remembers traversing countless terrains, and walking endless miles. All seeking this moment, yet it was not so. He tried to hug her but he couldn't. She was only a ghost. A specter. Saraph dropped to his knees, his face darkened. There was no warmth to her, no warmth to defrost his frozen heart. To come this far to see Allia. Only to hear that he had to go further in the abyss. He looked up at Allia wishing he could feel her warmth. That is what he wanted more than anything. Just to hold her, and wash away his pain. Just as it was back in the days of his old guild. He would always go on missions and scouting by himself. Bringing back new demons to make weapons out of. Saraph knew she did not like it, but he had to go. Since, it was his duty as a guild leader. That was the way he thought. Yet, when he returned she would be waiting for him, waiting to embrace him. Her blue hair blowing with the wind as it shined. Her face still kind and caring. Everything about her was the same, just no flesh. No flesh that he can hug or feel. The pain in his heart grew. He wanted to her more than ever before. Yet, he had to stay strong and carry this burden to the demon world, just a little longer. Just how longer could he hold this burden. Day by day it seemed to get heavier and heavier. Saraph shook his head trying to get a hold of himself.

"So what if I cannot hold her for the moment, for I will in time. So until then I will fight." Saraph told himself.

Saraph stood up with new profound determination and strength. No matter how it weighed or how much it hurt, he will endure it. He had to endure for himself, for everyone. That is what he felt deep inside. To him if he wanted to lead, he had to accept his burden. Accept it for what it was, pain and sorrow. For he was so close yet so far. A barb wire fence with razor wire standing between him and Allia. He could see her, just could not touch her. This obstacle he had to knock down one way or another. This was all that was on his mind. He was the only one without someone to hold on to, to actually touch. Rei had Karin and Gareth had Ezrea. What did he have? He had Allia the woman he wanted to marry, but now a ghost, just Conviction said. Then it hit him. He needed to talk to Conviction more. Conviction was the only thing that could answer him.

He needed to ask questions. Saraph walked up to Conviction as knight would walk to a noble. He stood in front of Conviction looking directly in his eyes. Showing him his passion and determination to get back what he loved most. Whatever Conviction was going to say he will not falter and back down. He will fight through anything that the demon world and Conviction would throw at him. Anything that stood in his way of getting him to Creation. He will tear down and cast aside.

"What must I do?" asked Saraph with courage and hope.

He wanted to know just where he had to go, to get her back. Even if he was not ready for this journey. He still continue on and fight as a scout would when surrounded. Never giving up, never surrendering to any number of foes. That was the way of the scout, the Saraph way. If caught go down fighting, keep your pride and honor.

"Once inside the gate Conviction, where do I go to find Creation?" Saraph asked with no hesitation and respect.

He wanted to know if anything will be waiting for them. What sort of challenges and beasts that awaited them.

 

(Sorry this was a fast post. My laptop was about to die. xd.png )

Edited by HellFireSouLess

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Chains. He was no stranger to chains.

At least, not metaphorical ones.

His brothers had always been greater than him. He'd been weighed down by chains of weakness.

His pride had always gotten the better of him. He'd been weighed down by chains of arrogance.

His actions had always led to poor endings. He'd been weighed down by chains of regret.

But now, literal chains were wrapped about his arms. He was standing before the great Prophet, his fate already sealed the minute he entered the Cathedral of Honor.

The Prophet spoke the Praise of Justice, everyone bowing their heads. When he finished, the King came forth, sighing.

"Brother, why would you turn upon me in spite?" he asked, concerned.

The man did not respond. Scars from being flogged were beginning to show on his back and arms. Yet his eyes still showed the wild, frothing anger of a cornered animal. He stared at the King with fury.

Earlier in the week, another man had stood in his place, even more furious. However, this man's arrest and judging were even more painful for the King - it was his youngest brother.

"As I have decided, you will not be simply executed. I have given you the chance to atone for your crimes. But I also gave you the choice to go free, as my brother, for you did nothing to harm the rest of my people."

"I decline." the man responded, his voice shaking with rage.

"Then you will do as I have decreed. To the coliseum..." he waved his hands, his voice unwavering, though inside he was filled with grief.

Soon, his own brother would face the Executioner in a battle to the death.

But he could not show sorrow to his people.

 

------

 

Conviction closed his book, seemingly interested.

"Well, young one, Creation lies in the fields of her own design. She forged them in an attempt to rebuild the burning land - though she is doomed to fail. Quite saddening really. She is like you - filled with unjustified hope that she will succeed one day. Perhaps... with your help... she will."

He turned to his behemoth, patting the beast.

"In any case, when you all are ready, we shall head to the.... Arctic Circle, was it?" he turned to Ezrea, who nodded.

"Good. I recalled correctly." Conviction seemed pleased with himself. He straddled his behemoth, patting the area behind him on its back.

Vol'tar began to rise from the mountain. His girth caused rocks and stone to fall from the side of it (killing a few demons below, admittedly) and the ground to shake uncontrollably. Ezrea fell backward, Gareth catching her and struggling to keep his own footing.

"WATCH IT!" Ezrea yelled, irritated. Gareth chuckled, but the sound was drowned out by the din of the mountain's movements.

Soon, before them, Vol'tar outstretched his massive wings of flame, bone, and steel. He yawned, sending a wave of heat into the air above the group. Gareth shielded his face, holding the other hand above Ezrea protectively.

Finally, the monstrous, monolithic behemoth was more obvious than before. Still, half of him clutched to the mountain lightly while his front half lay down in front of the group, ready for passengers.

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Erik had been completely fascinated by the passing events, from Rei's monstrous transformation to Vol'tar's enormous size. Despite having been atop the mountain when the great beast had arrived, it always baffled him at the revelation of just how enormous the creature truly was.

Suddenly, something dawned on his mind and he turned to look at the demon lord that now sat upon the back of the great beast. In regards to Rei's sword, the being had something about if one stared at it too long they would be driven into some kind of rage. Yet, he felt no such impulse, only the blade's rejection at his attempt to wielding it for a moment.

"So, Conviction, is it the strength of mind that would lean one to madness or is there a different factor pertaining to why this sword would drive one into a rampage? I understand you said Allen inherited Aggression's spirit, or soul however you deem it, so it's understandable that by wielding it alone would bring about some kind of anger and rage, but just simply staring at the blade for an extended period of time... why is it some of us might feel such effects while others feel nothing at all?"

Even as he spoke, he made his way onto the beast's back picking a suitable section so that he might be able to continue his observations of each person further.

Ezrea had certainly calmed down since his days sharing the same team with her, but she still spoke her mind without any kind of restraint. Allen, now Rei, had always been a mysterious sort of person. Even during their training days, Erik could never quite put a thumb to him, but he knew in a tough time he could count on the young man's aid. Gareth was quite intriguing, seemingly with the mind of a child, but the brilliance of a scholar that backed up his ability to lead. A trustworthy ally and one that Erik would have gladly allowed into his ranks, had he joined the faction back in the day. Lastly, Karin, she was certainly bold, but Erik knew that she had some sort of position to uphold. A sort of balance to atone for Rei's uncontrollable state.

This brought up a different series of thoughts. What would happen if that young girl wasn't around, if the two had never met and Rei couldn't suppress his rage? Would this group even stand a chance against him? What was he truly capable of? What kind of destruction and havoc would he be able to cause?

Eyes widening, Erik began to piece things together. An event that had occurred after the gate's opening, one that made tornado ally look like a wind tunnel. As Rei and Karin took their spots on the great beasts back, Erik looked to Tina and the others with an expression of a massive achievement.

"I don't mean to bring up any kind of painful memories or anything, but if the Lord of Aggression dwells within your body is it possible that you were also that demon who laid waste to the norther sector? Alaska, Canada and eight of the North Western states scorched and reduced to ash as if the land itself was being prepared for a new city to be built upon it. Thousands of demons and humans alike were killed during the sweep, but it suddenly stopped in Oregon as if the flame on the candle had finally burned out.

Ah! That must be where you met Karin! Of course, this is all just speculation and theory, but it fits so well with how the two of you act and the events that transpired.

Ouch!"

Karin was looking down at the behemoth's back and Rei was patting her head when Tina grabbed a nice chunk of Erik's skin and pinched with as much force as she could apply. Looking at her, what he saw made him withdraw a bit in a sense of fear and reminded him how she was related to Ezrea.

"Sometimes, you just don't know when to shut up, do you? Can't you read the atmosphere?! This is not a time to be bringing up something like that. What if she lost her family during that attack and now you're reminding her of such horrible event? Ah..."

"And you're the one who actually brings it to mind, but you're right and we're both terribly sorry for saying such things."

"It's fine. I honestly don't even remember much before waking up in a medical facility in Sacramento with her at my side. It's part of my reason why I'm still tagging alone, otherwise I'd return to my guild and continue providing protection to our specific sector. Which reminds me, Gareth, not only are you the leader of a new guild, but aren't you the one that provides Hope with the best defense? Did you already establish a reasonable back up or are you intending to return instead of embarking on this trip? I mean, what if something happens while you're away that your group can't handle on their own? For me, my right hand man along with the aid of the other guilds is enough to cover our sector, but you're split off from the main colony of DC."

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There he stood, before the crowd of thousands, in the center of the Coliseum of Fate. Many lives had been decided here, whether they ended or began anew. But his was fated to end here, though he knew it not.

In his mind, he had already decided to act. For once, his brother's conviction was within him. He would become a legend, here, and defeat the Executioner in bloody, honorable combat. The thrill of victory began to rise within him.

He had fought thirty men thus far - all prisoners. They were merely fodder to see his strength and to let him prove himself. The crowd was cheering as he stepped across the broken bodies of the fallen.

Now, the true test began.

He smiled through teeth of fury as the massive, hulking form of his final, destined opponent began to enter the arena. The King, disheartened, observed from above, seated in his throne made for the purpose. He sat on the same level as his people - as he always had - and watched with scrutiny. He wanted neither of these men to die - but one of them had to do so.

The Gladiator cracked his knuckles as the Executioner began to drag his heavy axe into the arena with him, the mighty weapon requiring both hands in order to wield. He swung it in an arc, demonstrating its cleaving ability by sweeping away the bodies in front of him in an effortless manner.

The Executioner was no easy foe and the Gladiator knew it. He had been one of the King's most trusted warriors, a barbarian he had found in a distant land. The man's muscles and form were equally giant. He towered over the smaller man, who was armed with only a pair of hand axes forged for the occasion. They had been made simply to cut with brute force, no elegance.

The Gladiator cared not. He howled with rage at the Executioner.

The Executioner did nothing in return but stand, his cleaver bared, his eyes shrouded by his mask, which always covered his face. It was the mask of an emotionless face, only the eyeholes showing the face behind.

"Show me your face, you coward!" the Gladiator chided, beginning to move to the side as the Executioner watched with interest. "Yes.. that will be my honor before I die - I'll take that mask from your damned gaze!"

The Executioner did not respond. He swung around in twin circles, cleaving the air before the Gladiator. Invigorated, the Gladiator leaped forward, jumping over the axe. The crowd, surprised, began to cheer as he landed in front of the Executioner. He swung both of his own axes, slamming into the giant's face with all of his force.

The axes cracked as the mask gave.

The Gladiator's face fell.

"B-brother?" he whispered, confused. The beast did not respond. He simply slashed across the man's neck without another word.

His head fell to the ground. Blood sprayed from the body as it toppled to the earth. The Executioner lowered the axe, his job completed.

The King slowly stood to his feet, raising his hand.

"The deed.. is done." he said quietly, but all could hear him. There was only a stark silence in the room. No one had expected the face the Gladiator had made. It had been one of utter disbelief and betrayal.

The King turned to his side, where the Prophet sat, smirking.

"What kind of gods demand such sacrifice and unnecessary bloodshed, Prophet?" the King asked, placing a hand on the man's shoulder. "Why did you say that was the best path?"

"Because, in the end, it was." the Prophet said. He stood to his feet as well, his regal attire gleaming in the setting sun. He was wearing the traditional garb of the Gel'Saz-Mahn, the One who Watches Death. The black and silver cloth moved cleanly over his form as he gestured to the field.

"A man who turned upon our beloved leader was killed today. Your people do not know about his relationship to you. All they know is that he committed the act of treason. They saw him battle - he died with honor. My Praise came true. I am not pleased that it did but I am pleased that you trusted me. This is all for the better, I assure you. Soon, I will complete the Praises and we will receive the end I promised you."

"Is it really worth it?" the King asked, arms behind his back.

"Of course..." the Prophet soothed, turning away. "For now, I will prepare a funeral pyre, unless you wish for another method of burial?"

"I'll bury him myself." the King said. "You and my middle brother will witness. Bring.. bring the Praise of the Beyond."

"As you wish, my lord. Very... strange, but not unheard of." the Prophet responded as he began to walk away. "I will gather my things."

As he left, the King stared at the emptying Coliseum with utter despair. The Executioner turned to him, his face bared to the world. He frowned, confused.

"Do not worry, my brother." the King said, struggling to smile to appease him. "You did well. Do not worry about him."

The Executioner nodded, shrugging.

This was what he had always done. It was all he knew.

Death was only another fact of living.

 

-----

 

Gareth looked at Rei, confused. He hadn't really considered this. However, now that he mentioned it, it wasn't really the best course of action.

"I have faith in my people." Gareth replied, turning. "Ezrea trained them to fight demons both unarmed and with Demon Arms. After all, as you said, we're far from civilization. We have to be able to survive."

He smiled at Ezrea, who sat beside him aboard Vol'tar. She was hugging him, displeased.

"You don't want to go back, do you?" Gareth asked, concerned.

"I don't care." Ezrea replied bluntly. "But it's not a good feeling. Brings back memories. Rei's lucky that he doesn't remember that day. It wasn't pretty. So going back isn't what I planned to do - ever."

"You don't have to. We can go back to Hope." Gareth replied.

"We're not quitters, Gareth, and if these guys become heroes, I'm damn well going to be one with them." Ezrea stated, hugging him tighter. "So we're going."

"Are you sure?"

She nodded fiercely.

"Well, I guess that answers that." Gareth said to Rei, grinning.

Edited by Thaelasan

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Saraph's mind now began to think on Creation. Who is Creation? How is she like me? Does she know my pain? The pain of a serrated edge dagger stabbing away at my heart. Yet, how I am supposed to help her? How can I help her if I can't even help myself? Saraph thought about this for some time. Trying to come up with an answer, then it hit him. Maybe by them meeting one another is how. How he would get back Allia and how she will get back her land. That she so desperately wants to save and restore. Together they would restore each other’s hope. It might be hard or easy, but no matter what it will be done. To Saraph that is what Conviction meant. For Conviction said that they were the same in a way. If that is to be true, then it will be. He was now more than ready to begin their journey.

 

Saraph turned his body to face everyone. More importantly he turned to Allia. All of his senses faded away. All that was on his mind was Allia. He walked over to her and stopped in front of her. His body wanted to reach out and touch her. Yet, his mind said it was no use. She was right there in front of him- her light blue colored hair, her deep ocean blue eyes and her body cover in a white dress. In his heart he wanted to hold her in his arms, wanted to feel her flesh. Even when his eyes saw there was no flesh, his body wanted to embrace her. He reached out his hand and tried to touch her. When his hand was about to touch her cheek, he stopped. He did not know why he had stopped. He could not move his hand at all. Then his hand dropped to his side. With his head he turned to Gareth looking directly at him. He saw Gareth with Ezrea, holding her. Saraph wished that he was holding, the woman he loved.

 

 

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Kahn'Ash

 

Thus began the age of flame.

Loudly did the burning Earth proclaim,

in agony and twisting pain.

The sound of peace driven insane.

And from the ashes no peace arose,

though from chaos, order grows.

No king came to claim the land.

No enforcer rose to make a stand.

The flames spread upon the face,

cleansing the world of every race.

Those who survived were twisted, shattered,

but as it was, that hadn't mattered.

They were broken, cracked, and marred,

their bodies corrupted, their faces scarred.

They pleaded for release, for a quick end,

but no death to them was there to send.

No axe came upon them, swift and strong,

to end the suffering they'd held on long.

And all they could do was stare at the sky,

and simply whisper, wonder why.

What crime had they committed grave?

Were their souls forbidden to save?

 

--------

 

Convinction turned backward, eye cocked underneath his mask. He saw each of them straddled atop Vol'tar, so he shrugged and turned back forward.

It was unknown what thoughts such a mind could think. Perhaps he thought of the past or the future, rather than the present. It could only be theorized, but it was most likely that Convinction only saw the future.

Considering that his aspect was about the changes of the time to pass based upon will, it was wondered just how far ahead he really planned, or if he planned at all.

Whatever it was, he seemed calm and collected. Gareth, however, was actually a bit anxious. Ezrea was napping again in his arms, unaffected. But he, himself, was worried. Then again, he sort of had the right to be.

His main cares concerned Ezrea. He was definitely worried about her. And Hope also lingered in his mind as a constant, nagging fear. But he was sure in Charles and the rest of the warriors of Hope. He had left them instructions with Charles long ago in case of his absence. And the council wasn't full of idiots. They were definitely able to handle themselves.

But could he handle this? He had never seen the doors before, except once on the news, before the government had covered up the doors and told people they weren't a concern.

Damn liars.

In any case, with all that had happened, and how crazy the world was becoming, Gareth could only look over the side of the dragon as Conviction prepared for departure.

"Vol'tar. Eh! Eh!"

Conviction's words suddenly broke Gareth's train of thought.

There is no real description for the feeling that occurs when one is seated on the back of a giant, flying contraption with no roof or side. First, there's a feeling of helplessness, like a roller coaster, as you hang for a moment in suspension while the wings bring the beast into the sky with a mighty descent. Then, there's a second following of sheer, motionless "movement", where all things seem to collide but nothing moves.

Then, it begins. Soon, Gareth was grasping slightly for a tighter grip as the beast sped up to unbelievable velocity. Especially for its size, the speed it was taking was maddening. But, as the behemoth of freedom and determination, speed was important. But, after a while, Vol'tar began to take a steady, comfortable speed. Conviction turned, chuckling.

"He's quite the ride, yes? Feel blessed!" the Lord laughed, waving. "No mortal from this plane has ever ridden upon his back before you, and maybe none shall for a long while after! Embrace this moment for what it is! And do not worry about falling - Vol'tar will catch you, if that happens!"

"Great.." Gareth said, his Faith being tested. Though he wished to believe the Lord, the burning ground below looked as though it was just waiting for someone to land on it - hard.

He turned back to Ezrea, trying to occupy his thoughts.

Somehow, she was still asleep. The great movement and following acceleration had done nothing to her. She still slumbered, snuggling into Gareth's arms comfortably.

But it made sense. She had once admitted to him - though reluctantly, and they had been alone - that she felt very safe in his arms. But the reverse was true. For some reason, being together, they didn't feel as weak or helpless.

Yet, still, he couldn't rest easy until they landed. But now the ground below was changing as they began to reach the northern border. Gareth was impressed. It had been only a half hour.

How could this thing be so fast? But he wouldn't question it.

For now, he would simply look forward at the back of the Lord's head, trying - admittedly - to decipher a bit of his thoughts. Here was a being heralded as almost akin to a god by the demons of the world. But he seemed so human, so alive, that it was hard to believe he possessed such power.

Yet, at the same time, he gave off an aura of knowledge and certainty that made sure that even the ignorant knew to give him respect. Authority. That was what it felt like.

"If you would like, I can tell you, and save you the trouble."

Gareth blinked slightly, confused. Conviction had spoken without turning. Though the wind rushed past them all, making it hard to hear anything, Conviction's voice seemed to carry without constraint.

"Uh... I... I suppose?" Gareth ventured.

"I'm thinking of how this will perhaps all happen. How you all will face the challenges ahead. How things will progress as you move on." Conviction responded. "Your minds are as hard to read as you may find mine to be. Humans are ... fascinating creatures. You follow goals that seem unattainable with fervor and vehemence that I seldom seen from any of my people, if at all. You pursue dreams that are fleeting. It's quite interesting."

"Thanks?" Gareth replied, smiling slightly.

"No. Thank you. You have given me new ....Conviction in our cause. To be blunt, I was beginning to actually believe that my cause was fruitless, that trying to save my beloved followers was something I could never do. But now I see that it takes a bit of Faith."

"Happy to hear it." Gareth said, now smiling.

"But that doesn't mean it will be easy."

"I don't expect it to be."

"Good. Being surprised makes it easier for you to be defeated." Conviction replied, and went silent.

For a long while, the only sound was the sound of the air whistling past their ears, and the mighty sounds of Vol'tar's wings.

But their journey had only just begun.

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Erik had been fascinated with the great beast's prowess, its tremendous wings seemingly creating gale force winds as it lifted off the ground and the speed at which it was capable of travelling. Why, if he had been built for cold weather, this method of travel would be so much more desirable than standard commercial airlines any day.

As the group hurtled through the air, Erik figured now would be the time to make some adjustments on his arm. It was performing optimally, but still a slight lag between his mental command and the reaction of the arm itself.

For instance, if he wanted to bend it at a ninety degree angle, there was a 0.00014 second delay between the command given and when the command was received.

Slinging his pack around into his lap, Erik began rummaging through its contents until he found what it was he was looking for. A little screen with a wire attached to it and a little probe at the end of the cord.

While the device began its booting sequence, Erik stretched out the small cord and took the end and plugged it in his arm, just above the elbow. Shortly after, data began to run down the screen of the device and his eyes scanned through it all at a rather quick pace. Once he found what he was looking for, a cheeky smile creased his lips and a sense of pride swelled within him, but he knew it wasn't a very difficult task to accomplish. Why, even Rei would be able to handle such a task with just a few pointers.

Unplugging the device from his arm and replacing it in the bag, the young engineer once again rummaged through the contents and began pulling out several other tools until he had all he was looking for. Zipping the bag shut, he slung it back over his shoulder and began to disconnect his arm.

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The Executioner headed down the hallway to his room where he did his craft. For him, this was his only sanctuary. He sharpened his axe here and prepared for each execution with precision and expertise.

He still felt something for those he killed, of course. His human empathy could never truly leave him. But it was his duty to the King to end their existences if they proved a problem to the rest of the kingdom.

But this one... this one had bothered him for quite some time. He'd kept him restrained in his room for quite some time. Everyone but a few thought him dead.

The man lay where Execution had left him, in his small cell, having eaten the bit of food Execution had provided him. But he did not speak or move when Execution entered. This normally was how it started.

Execution walked over to his grindstone and sat down, placing his beloved axe on the rock. Then, came the familiar voice.

"Did you do it again?"

He turned slightly, knowing what he would see.

The man had his face pressed to the bars, his hands grasping with white knuckles. He was smiling slightly. His face was ragged, with a dirty beard completing the look of a prisoner. He wasn't skeletal or emaciated but he was definitely pale and slightly thin, which only added to his image. Even the Executioner was always slightly anxious when the man spoke to him.

The Executioner nodded a bit in response as he turned back to the grindstone.

"Will you tell me how it felt?"

The Madman still sat with his face at the bars. The Executioner did not reply, as he always didn't. He only began to sharpen his axe.

There was a sound as the door into his inner sanctum opened. He looked up with minute interest as the Prophet entered the room, his clothes shining in the torchlight of the room.

"Ah. I see you've already returned." the Prophet said, pleased.

"Oh! It's the holy one! Aha! Look at him!" the Madman chided from his cell, pointing. "Have you come to preach to me today?"

"Perhaps." the Prophet moved towards the cell, leaning down slightly. "What did you see in your dreams today?"

"Nothing this time! Sorry." the Madman stated solemnly.

"Such a shame. Your dreams are always so nice to hear about." The Prophet grabbed a chair from nearby, placing himself upon it casually. As the Executioner sharpened his axe, the Prophet spoke to the Madman conversationally. Their words and the hum of the axe were the only sound in the room.

"Who did he kill today?" the Madman suddenly piped up, grinning.

The Executioner's axe stopped humming for a moment. The room was silent.

"Just... just another prisoner, of course." the Prophet said, smiling.

"No. I can sense it. It was someone important." the Madman grabbed the bars tighter, his eyes filled with curiosity. "I can sense the feeling. It's there. Was it a family member?"

The Prophet turned to the Executioner. They shared words without speaking. Then, the Prophet turned back.

"It was a family member, yes. Is that enough?"

"Yes yes! But did he feel something this time!? Did it hurt him!?" the Madman was jumping up and down now.

"Most likely. But he is a strong one." the Prophet said.

"Yes... but how does he do it!... How does he feel nothing!? So amazing."

"Indeed he is. As for you, you should rest."

"Fine. Fine. I am tired." the Madman said, placing his head upon the pillow. "But you return tomorrow and tell me more!"

"Always." the Prophet replied, moving to exit.

Soon, the only sound in the room was once again the hum of the axe.

As it always was.

 

-------

 

Gareth was getting used to feel of this as they soared through the clouds atop the dragon's back, going at a good pace.

He turned to look at the rest of the group and was immediately intrigued when he saw that Erik seemed to be working with his arm.

Gareth had been interested in this machinery since he had first laid eyes upon it. After all, a mechanical transplant that took advantage of the essences of demons was the closest to a pseudo demon arm that Gareth had ever seen. In fact, it was almost literally a demon ARM.

He chuckled slightly.

"So what are you doing with it now, Erik?" Gareth asked, yelling slightly to be heard over the sound of the winds rushing past them. "Can I help?"

He hoped he could. He really wanted to learn more about how this thing was made.

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Just as Erik finished disconnecting his arm, a familiar voice chided across the wind and he looked up to see Gareth looking intrigued. Smiling, he motioned for the big man to move near so that he might see what it was Erik was doing exactly. Of course, explaining might help the process along, but with the howl of the wind he didn't exactly feel like yelling so much.

"It's laggy, so I'm calibrating it. Getting it more in sync with my commands. If you wanna watch, feel free to do so, but I need to do the adjustments myself to make sure everything harmonizes correctly. However..."

Erik paused in his work for a moment, having been tinkering with his arm with so much as even sparing a glance as to what it was he was actually doing with it, and swung his bag back into his lap. Raking through its contents, he found the pad he had been messing with just moments ago and tossed it to the man.

"That's got the base schematics, the neural response frames, timings, all sorts of fun stuff in relation to this arm. Feel free to peer through that, but there is one let down. It lacks the data on the essence chambers because all that was equipped in the field. I literally threw it together while wandering around."

Smirking at his self-proclaimed achievement, Erik finally looked down at his arm and grimaced slightly at what he had been doing, but after looking over what exactly it was he had done the smile returned.

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