M359: The Serpent Servant
Kylesa hurries herself into a building and urges the scared languescents to exit while there is vacant opportunity to flee and before the undead swarm them, they languidly leave their confines following to sudden swarm and are overcome. Sino watches Troy use his surroundings in leverage and springs from impossible distance swift and flighty, comparative to fain glory and realization commemorate, he sees Troy’s magic and gives himself into thought.
A powerless rise for any mischievant, doted by the soulless wanderers staring on Lilith in her glory, wandering malaisant extático and like them hoping the next hexed she seeks presents itself to its execution.
The phoenix begins to nest as saturnine in slumber while the bodies continue mounting consumed by walking into scoria and becoming ashes. In arginine ash it cools and continues to tire, the roaming shells of lives fuel an onset regeneration dilemmatic, Merlin shouts to Troy thereto the leaping rider startles phoenix into motion and thereof depart leaving Merlin at a defenseless start against urgent horde.
Several lengths of distance separated, Merlin enters the street facing Sino, as buildings burn do others cinder by the waves, of twilight approaching do walls buckle as embers rumble do crematories crumble, by a tufted billow of black smoke Sino disappears. In a ginnel passage, Sino finds two things, an exit and Ophiuchus drinking blood with a gaze and from a neck that are broken, silently standing drops the body and approaches him.
Oph: Nothing has changed, master Sino.
Sino pushes his hand to his chest and him to the wall.
Sino: Remember that.
Oph shakes him loose and walks onto the chaos. Sino places his hand on a corner beam of a building and closes his eyes, he lifts his hand and departs a glowing handprint, steadily the glow becomes a fire. r
The rain keeps the fire from leaping to and between rooftops, but there is a subtle resonance to the embers of remaining fires. Dour muddied vampires find Mara in the street, watching her walk backwards from the onslaught of infected, ignorant to her guise they pause as she flees.
Werewolves rush toward the vampires only to search thru the bodies and fell the infected, they turn quickly toward the vampires, readily armed to defend themselves but slowly exiting they point to where Mara has run.
Troy: Werewolves, what do they want?
Kylesa: Let’s not soon learn how so.
They aim arrows at wolves climbing walls, but there are others whom attack before arrows fly. They have leapt and pinned both Troy and Kylesa to the rooftop, learning their scent.
Lupirion: Stay still.
Canaris: This smells of Sino – get tell the huntress!
Troy: Had we, just, a tale of conflict.
Canaris: Simple boy
A short laugh, smells again, she trembles.
Canaris: This is not the stench of conflict. Go!
Berserkers depart. Sincerely she screams.
Multifarious contempt for decency, Sino continues collapsing buildings with rage and fire, over and thru flames of walls and rising ruble, trapping Merlin into an arena enclosed with the serpent servant.
Ophiuchus, flippant by hunger of vengeance only looks forward, Merlin steps behind him, his raised hand near the villain’s shoulder begins to glow, by the time Oph turns, noticing the light, Merlin triggers a large explosion of blue fire, harmless to himself, yet throwing Oph many measures.
Oph stands with esoteric time enough to be without words. The hole in his leather almost as wide as his back he discards his vestments of robe and jacket, his skin sheds slightly over the burn, the body long possessed slumped and lethargic is now mightily robust, muscles of rage and carrying the tempo of a steady heartbeat in his veins occasionally, a snake swims under his skin, as the snake passes under the back the skin heals. His eyes roll into his head.
Oph: This doesn’t begin to scratch the surface of my power.
M: Not your usual self?
Oph: Yes, waste your time –
Sino spying the battle decides to leave at first sight of conflict, one of the wolfmen running pushes him over a walkway thru a ceiling into a burning building.
Angered into alertness, Sino cracks his knuckles with fists and begins punching one as more crawl for entry. Three against one in close burning quarters, he hits each opponent with swift force, missing a swing he is hit twice before regaining defense before renewed attack, each strike missed he is struck twice over the same. His attack skill is double two of theirs, but his defense is the same as each by scale of one. His dexterity is less than theirs as they ascertain his stamina and begin to gnarl him, as they must face a black flame magic from his blood there is an evolving rage of fire and beast.
M: What hast Sino durst to thee to make my opponent?
Oph: Much that I must, little that I dare.
M: I’m sorry, but people change.
Oph: You don’t recognize me?
M: Should I?
Oph: You know me. I first took a boy to such not only did you steal my lunch, but you twisted me in the wind and left me in a road wrought of my essence.
Merlin’s face loosens to ponder, his head tilts to memory, of trees and winds of distant clouds.
Oph: Shedding skin having hunted you in a city with a disturbing amount of twins, I sought revenge, not supper, you then chopped me with a scabbard blade, almost killing me. Do you remember it?
A memory of soldiers and gallows of dusty roads.
M: You!? Perhaps I should burn you out!
Oph: You dare!
Sino fights the last of aggrieved three, despite bleeding arms and neck. But for battered across midsection, screaming with every shock by the time, he overcomes the final werewolf. The wolves’ hearts outward tears he while almost laughing. Squeezing the blood from a werewolf heart over his head and face he hears shouting from beyond the burning room.
Oph: Fallen, devoted, devour the burning world!
The dead that have risen focus on Merlin, in a gust of wind the proxy of foes tumble and theretofore the ghouls upon him, his hands glow and electricity leaps between his fingers and with their skulls in his hands.
Ophiuchus gradually steps rarely blinking. His host’s eyes are dullening and dry, sullen and red around edges, his tongue flickers mindless with each thought. The dead risen rise yet again, from floors they are bloody, from rubble they are dusty, from fire they are burning, walking toward Merlin who strikes them with his magic. They amass as he swings chairs, commotion brings him to hold a table top as shield only to kick it against a grouping of swarthy several and a bygone burner bashing a bottle of booze to burn them all and raise the acrid flames toward the gods. Forcedly, he jumps thru flames landing to surprise of a knife wound to arm from foe. He sends Ophiuchus to the wall with wind and rescinds the penetration.
The mist becomes light rain pouring enough cloud-cover to allow unnerving twilight.
Oph: I grow tired. Do you feel like dying quickly, Merlin, or should I torture you first?
M: I do appreciate such good timing. It’s good to have choices.
Oph: I think we all do.
Agnar, who some would say is twice the size of Ophiuchus’ host, picks him upward and throws him outward, but he will not be thrown easily, grasping at the sleeves he falls into the base of a wall that buckles, the fire has taken its roof and the rain taken the flames, but the center is a furnace. Ophiuchus digs feet running into the wall’s main beam making it topple onto Agnar. As he avoids fire flourishing and more of the insatiable dead, Agnar pulls himself from the rubble.
Agnar: Clip his wings!
Merlin attacks before the dead find him, thirteen exchanged punches and Merlin breaks Ophiuchus’ hand, he sets the bones and continues fighting.
M: Let’s break something else.
A hammering swing of anger starts eleven more and breaks the same arm, the limb straightens with his sign of pain.
Oph: Why are you so difficult!?
Seven more and he breaks the other arm, but Ophiuchus continues fighting, lame swings and shoving, a head-butt to weak effect.
M: Now I see your final moments.
Oph: I’m slowing you down, right where I want you, give up while you can.
Five absurd swings and he wrenches his foe’s shoulder.
M: What good would come in efforts just.
Three terrible struggles and Merlin kicks the knee to buckle bringing Oph to the ground.
Oph: This isn’t over.
M: Yes, it is… …into the moonlight.
Merlin snaps Ophiuchus’ neck, his body falls surfeit.
Agnar unburies himself by throwing the stones of the wall at the undead, Jonak arrives and cuts his own hand with a knife and speaks a terrible sound.
Jo: Give your hearts to me.
The undead begin tearing out their hearts and offering them to Jonak as they fall around them with black and blood hearts rolling. As Merlin attends to Agnar, Belladonna walks with pestilential fog beside her, she sees the snake master slither from the mouth of the body, to stop it she creates walls of fog to confine its direction. The smoke pains the snake and it moves faster until at the feet of Lilith who takes it between her claws.
Lilith: All this from a familiar…
She examines it squirming, biting her to no affect.
Lilith: I hope it was worth it.
She tilts her head and eats the snake, her eyes begin to close and she moans with a hundred voices, her eyes roll white as the ground and nearby buildings shake.
Lilith: Bittersweet.