"So, Magilou. Which way to the worship hall?"
Stepping out onto pristeen royal azure carpet, the group cast their eyes upon the first glimpse of Loegres Villa. Decor of high quality wound about the rotunda, its lavish hallways that circulated around the center of Abbey Command were dotted at the sides with many doorways and seperate chambers. Above, surrounded by the steely haze wrought by the unlit structure, were gilded lanterns and chandeliers, motionless in the vacant silence of this abode. With two parallel halls converging in one circular motion - with no clear direction - the daemoness scoured the shadowed surroundings and past crisp argent columns, deciding to ask the one who had apparently been inside the villa before.
"Hmm. Which way indeed?"
Velvet frowned as the Witch dismissively hopped past, mockingly taking in the sights of posh royal banners. "I asked you a question," she growled sternly.
"I told you I've been here before, but I never said I was an EXPERT."
As the commotion began again, the watching group collectively sighed at the hopeless magician that served only to drag down their progress. They had just got inside, does she know the villa at all?
"And I said we'd dump you if you started to annoy me."
"Dump me? Then you'll need to look for a trashcan first."
A groan mumbled out at the side, an irritated scratching of cheek with his tired words. "...Best to keep an eye out, then..."
Sighing in relent, the Therion's fists bound tight as she shook her head with tensed canines. "I'm the fool for even TRYING to hold a conversation with you."
Magilou's grin stretched wide, the pride of meaningless victory fuelling her strange and irritable antics once again, "That's the spirit. Loosen up those shoulders, and the way forward ought to make itself plain!"
~~~
"Halt! Intruders!"
In a storm of stomping steel on laminated spruce, patrolling royal lancers rushed in with brazen metal and forms bound in reason, bearing aureate and resolute spears and steadfast shields against the venturing assassins. Nonetheless, their unfeeling hearts that beat without emotional purpose would always falter in the face of Calamity.
Clang!
Hardened and a willful edge, poised in absolute stoic defense, remained unshaken as the strength of the determined soldier lashed at the guard; bold polearm creaking with exertion as the armoured guardsman failed to yield. "I'll defend this villa, as it's my purpose!" The man had cried under an echoing helm.
"...Glorified tincan." Refined - however crude - in the wake of this journey, the half-malak closed himself off from the unfettered shouts as he wrestled the weaponry apart, carving down upon his vulnerable spear-arm and rattled the helm with a stunning hilt check. The blade wound back, then slammed through the resilient abdomen with terrifying ease, a single stab settled in the gut. Sarid nodded with dignity and resigning sigh, before thrusting his left palm to a still, viridescent wind sending the gasping body across noble grounds; its screeching alloy clattering amongst groaning boards.
Swiping the crimson-dipped blade hardly across the shoulder and shaking off the sting prickling his open hand, he stepped back in tow with the group that ventured on, leaving behind a bloodied path to trail garnered halls.
Sauntering ahead, golden glare snapping from doorway to doorway, Velvet made quick work of dispatching any encroaching forces with swift bouts of unparalleled strength and ferocity, the trailing lancers that scattered past made quick work of by the crew clicking at steel heels. After a few painfully grating 'Magikazams' by a certain 'Magi-lou' - paired with a highly deserved smack from the irritated Reaper - the unfortunately fortunate band of destructive assassins continued their unyielding push through the weak and fallible human forces in search of their target.
Hopefully, this time, without a Witch's 'forbidden' and 'ancient' chants that served to disrupt and annoy, over dispelling any worries of the young boy plodding at their backs.
Many of these diverse rooms they stalked last held quite the variety of materials, from chambers of many more libraries and casual resting space, to one's of cleanly transparent cases, containing many treasures of the lands. Either way, none were of interest to the group, that continued along coiling corridors.
"I'll finish this quick."
Fist crumpled metal with the gasps of a bruising pain, as Eizen plowed another shattering fist into the stomach of a heaving royal swordfighter. Snapping a wrist as he stepped past, before slamming a winding hook to flail the guard into a pillar; its marbled white crumbling upon the fallen body.
"Dark and light! Bright Shade!"
With a whisk of fluttering parchment, they writhed in a coalescence of sputtering miasma and a blinding, heavenly glare. A pair of soaring orbs rushed forth, their swirling combination of seething violet and boiling gold struck another in a douse of power. The outmatched guardsmen relented to a collapse, scorched and marred by the young malak's surprising power.
Crack!
And another body, the final corpse, fell from the Therion's bone-rattling kick that had buckled the lancer's collar. Toppling over with choked, gurgling gasps, the man laid silent and motionless as the woman held this balance for the moment; awaiting any signal to finish this poor soul, but found none. Velvet's boot clacked to the side, as the group collectively looked upon a much grander entryway compared to the many others they had come across.
"Look, if we go in there and all... catch fire or something, it's your fault."
Passing an eye roll and stern nod of readying to all except one, the daemoness stepped through and parted its hefty doorway and finally peered upon one, trailing pathway of gilded turquoise carpet, sliding along and up against a much similar passage before the worship hall. Symbolic engravings of religious history passed at their sides with tireless columns, preceeding the reverent altar they would soon intrude upon by their corrupted presence.
Soon enough, she forced the doors open, to unveil the bare hall they wished to find. Above this pious altar, did the vivid gleams of sunlight splice through its stained glass. At the sides of this grand chamber, many pews of a dark spruce lined the far reaches; corner to corner, all remaining empty. The only singular sign of life, was a sold figure kneeling at the very end of this praised altar, completely adorned in crisp white, accepted amber cassock and a tall biretta. Or, what seemed to be the only soul within.
As Velvet made to pounce forth and deliver this brutal judgement - righteous or not - a hand of similar cloth to her own gently palmed the shoulder. She turned with a narrowed look, before the half-malak that hovered by gained the undivided attention of the group. Two motions, one finger pointed downwards, and a raised hand of five fingers. Nodding in understanding yet with a lazed eye roll at the situation, the daemon knew full well of the meaning, and placed a single finger to her lips, before stepping forwards brazenly. A mere glance was all she spared to the pair of shadowed openings at the side of the suspected priest.
The distinct jangling and clinks of the woman's chains and beltwear was by no means silent, and at their unbothered approach she could catch the mild stiffening of their targets praying posture. There was no point in attempting a quiet assassination at this stage, he will die her way. Boot clicks muffled by the rolled out carpet below, Velvet let her dark tone flood the reverberating hall. "Are you Gideon?" she bluntly questioned, knowing full well it could only be him.
The elderly man turned slightly, the age in his tone leaking out from his endless servitude of the Church. "I am in prayer at the moment. Who are you?"
"I asked you first."
"Such ill manners... But what else could I expect from a daemon?"
Instead of gaining the grunt of surprise he expected, the impassive ravenette behind merely hummed in dismissive agreement; crossed arms staring forth in patient wait.
"Stop right there!"
With a flourish of white and azure, gilded at the flash of seeping teal, an increasingly familiar and irritable figure sprang from the dark; another pair of duelist malakhim materialising at her orders as two rapier ordelies dashed to assist in the Praetor's ambush.
"Another accurate augery!"
"Oh, you again..."
"An ambush," Eizen stated, not exactly surprised as his thumbs remained hooked over pocket.
Rokurou's tone was flat and disinterested, battling the same opponents didn't yield much reward. "Is this more of your Reaper's curse? Or do you think the old lady sold us out?"
"Doubtful," Sarid grunted, assessing their newly apparent foes with grim eyes, "I think pride could be a decent excuse."
Eleanor Hume twirled her spear with delicate prowess, aiming its shining tip towards the nonchalant Therion, who only battled the hostile glare with one of boredom and incredulity.
"You figured it out, didn't you? That he's running the Nectar operation," she boldly assumed, as there was no possible way for the Praetor to figure out their scheme so quickly.
"Indeed. I followed up on each of the incidents you caused, and the trail led me all the way to High Priest Gideon."
Velvet's look grew borderline fed up of the woman before her, completely at a loss for the unwilted faith and devotion to every order imposed. "Yet you still defend him?" the daemoness flatly questioned with an impatient tap of her fingers on the waistline.
"The punishment he deserves is for the Abbey to administer."
"Punishment?! How dare you!" The priest cried behind the wall of valiant forces, "Do you realise how much good I've done for the Abbey?"
As the brink of battle was ready to crash upon them like a tide, the Witch stepped away from the line of tension with a fiendish giggle. "Mmm, make her nice and desperate, Velvet! I know the end result will be something wonderful!" Magilou playfully stated with a skip, eager to lie in wait and pounce at the miniature traitor she had been waiting for.
"Stay out of this, witch."
A crack of knuckles, the cry of unveiling blades, the flutter of magical parchment, and the festering growl only felt by the lone daemon ahead underneath binding cloth; and the vicious crew sprang into action against this noble forces.
Bounding in with a fearsome cry, the daemoness barrelled towards her foes without hesitation, flipping past one of the intruding malakhim that struck out with a great heft of their swinging lance - who soon suffered a dazing airward blow from a vanishing opponent that landed in a readying crouch - as Velvet immediately struck out with a side-swept kick to knock away the second. Stumbling them right into a launching fist from the powerful Reaper.
"Here I come!"
Velvet lashed out her wristblade to crash down upon the defiant Eleanor, the gritting screech of metal to belie the Praetor's whirling spear spins flailing empty air, as the woman slipped and danced between each visceral swipe; goading back with her own twisting whirlwind of booted steel.
"On to battle!"
And, through the crackle and sputter of a summoned blaze, came the wolfish and bloodthirsty grin of the sprinting Samurai; his skirting blades at the sides singing through the chaotic air. His rushing blitz stood opposed by the pair of dashing exorcists, wielding their individual swords to carve the daemonic foe in two. Beneath desperate licks of flame and harsh flowing currents, the warrior lunged, poised daggers biting at the hurried guards, with Rokurou's swift dance between the storm of blades arcing like bolts. Sparks spit and ground against rumbling earth, as the two exorcists attacked each side of the smirking Samurai, fending off with one calcite edge each.
"Come on, is that all?"
Taunts going unheeded, the Yaksha caught a pair of wild strikes with each grinding knife-face, slamming both to the ground before lacerating their clothed chests in a hail of gorging gashes. Sending a wracking straight kick to knock away one, Rokurou advanced upon his target, deflecting slash after stab with casual confidence. Bending low as a powerful smashing strike rained down, the daemon's proud blade screeched together and parried this careless attack in an opposite scissor motion. Twisting on the spot, the man curved a blade deep across the slumping stomach, as he spun away from the foe.
Until, the dazed exorcist was rendered to pieces through a rushing wave of gashing winds left by the Samurai's retribution.
It only took a moment for the final blade to be upon him once again, guided in a deadly angle towards the man's vulnerable neck. However, the crying sword tasted air, as an eruption of mist enveloped the daemon's place. Within bolstered fear at the smothering unknown, the exorcist soon felt the blighted bite of Rokurou's blade split ribs, the tremendous force carving the stone below with a shattering canyon wound.
Another screech of battling steel echoed out over the hall, and Velvet grit her teeth as she flipped away from the tornado of Eleanor's twirling assault, landing back to the side of her unfaltering allies without so much of a scratch. Before them, remained the guarding Praetor flanked by her summoned malakihm, all decored in various bruises and mild cuts; the malignant crew still standing wound free. However, the daemoness growled to admit that the foes were no pushovers, as Abbey appeared to have endowed the naive Praetor with a stronger set of malakhim for this endeavour. No matter, more strength for the Wolf to feast upon.
Eleanor scowled at the pooling ivory surrounding the group, the pair of bodies discarded at the Samurai's hand staining the inward serrations of his daggers a slick red.
"Madam Eleanor!" cried a nasally voice, and another pair of exorcists rushed to the Praetor's side; lying in wait for the chance the ambush went ary. Orderlies, both duel-wielding great iridescent scimitars, raised their weaponry - valiant and steadfast - at the sides of her injured malakhim. Suddenly, the foremost passageway burst open, and the stampeding crashing of boots scattered across the carpet. Two more exorcists, alarmed at the commotion, came in to assist and splayed their palms upon blades; two more malakhim materialising from the locked ether of reason.
They paid no mind to Magilou's desperate dash away from the newly emerging intruders, as she dived for the cover of the pews.
"Damn. Reinforcements!"
Rokurou's shout of warning soured the dire situation, nevertheless he choice to sprint forth with the darting Reaper to his left. Wind howled in the ears of the reckless rush, and the crackling artes blessed malakhim staffs to hurl bellowing fireballs to bar their way. Eyes widening in shock, their courageous run was halted abruptly with the spitting detonation that mired a blazing dome in the center of the chamber.
Sarid's concerned yell was evident, even as the pair leapt back with the smoking trails of charred attire to the group's side. Eizen's forearm lay scorched black, his gritted teeth and angered rush seen in the freezing glare, while Rokurou looked on warily; blades humming orange and searing to the touch.
"They have the advantage at range."
Velvet's warning to their counter-attack was accenting the increasingly dreadful atmosphere. Soon enough, the air grew hot with boiling energy, and another pair of destructive artes lashed out to set the villains ablaze. However, through dissipating smoke, the flapping of white brushed embers as the half-malak sprung ahead; the ornate saber suddenly crackling into its own seething inferno.
"You came into the wrong hall for your final prayers...!"
One arte discharged close, and the half-breed made no attempt to evade, batting his blade upwards to send the spell rebounding and erupt against the dome ceiling. The next launched near, and Sarid carved the sword back down, wounding its magical skin and deflecting the second arte back and past, narrowly missing the exorcist ambush that flinched away in worry.
Narrowing irises of lavender, he kicked his feet up into a gathering flip, with palm enshrouded in wistful energy, before slamming it into the marbled stone below. In a rushing flow, breezing gales seeped along the floor swiftly, and at the sides of this reverent hall, were the pews brought to drifting hover, suspended in tense space. Finally, a hand thrust outwards, centered at the invading group, and so the winds obeyed those draconic fingers. Veils of water wrapped about the exorcists as their malakhim visibly braced, before the rows of pews were sent rushing to splinter over their shaky defense. "That will keep them busy, move it!"
Expression tightening sharply, the blonde pirate twisted at his place, and sternly shouted to the watching daemoness. "Crush her head!"
"On it!"
Squelch!
Wasting no time, Velvet's arm contorted with visceral withering tendrils of miasmatic purple and scarlet, boot screeching on marble as she spun and pounced towards the unsuspecting Praetor with eyes of fire. Eleanor stumbled back in surprise, fingers wound about her staff tightly and passive, while her malakhim similarly stepped back in shock. However, another gleam of sparkling teal shot out of the exorcist's figure to save the day.
"Leave Madam Eleanor alone you fiend!"
Thwack!
"Bieeeeeee?!"
Velvet paid no mind to the sudden normin malakhim that materialised before her gilded glare, honed in on the target. With a savage and destabilising back-hand, supported with the monstrous vermillion appendage, the Therion sent the normin careening away with a shout of surprise and discomfort. Advantage lost, the daemoness slipped underneath a threading swipe from one malakhim, and twisted by the legs of another - as the afflicted ripping of flesh sounded out with it being torn from its calf. Warm ivory teasing tastebuds, the daemoness spiralled past, wreathing a thunderous raking of air that the Praetor could barely leap away from.
Scorching flares blazed to Velvet's corners, and the weighty conflagration seared the guarding limb she pronounced, until the glinting twirl struck low and the woman had more choice but to flip away from the entrapped danger, dispelling the visceral claw into corrupted mist. Boots gripping the charred royal carpet, the ravenette glared as the sudden assault remained unsuccessful. Casting an uncostly glance behind the flowing strands of her blackened mane, the disappointing frown stretched as she found the strange purple feline dangling in the arms of an adoring Laphicet.
The cute malakhim's eyes twinkled with a great wide smile below a tiny dot nose, as his buttoned eyes blinked in sync with the young malak's verdant.
"Theeeeere you aaaare, Bienfu! Did you think you could hide from your true mistress?!" Overcasting the boy's innocent expression, an enshrouding shadow emerged from behind akin to a fearsome beast rising from rolling waves. The once cute and proud Bienfu shrunk with dread at the fiendish stars shining in Magilou's emerald pearls.
"M-M-Miss Magilou?!"
Gripping his oversized top hat and pulling the malak roughly from Laphicet's clutches, the Witch glowered dangerously at the traitorous normin as he hung helplessly in the air. "I'm putting YOU back where you belong. You, descendant of the Seventh Grove, see our vows renewed. May our prayers of discontent vanish infinitesimal into the void!"
Glitter of a celestial gleam coiled about above the pair like a shining halo, the chromatic shine of this circular rune twisted and barbed at its heavenly edges.
"Remember this name I bestow unto you... Fuschie Cass!"
"Bieeeeen! Bad-baaaaaad!"
With the poor malak's writhes of sorrow and worry - unable to escape in the Witch's firm grasp - Bienfu's panic was abruptly silenced, when the feline's form radiated that teal glow, and transformed into a twinkling orb to fall beneath Magilou's figure; disappearing from sight.
As the viridescent shine hued the body from within, underneath, a surge of fufilling power pumped along the cackling jester's fingertips. "Heh-heh-heh... Oh, now it is OOOON!" Magilou's gleeful and manic words were clear for the chamber to ricochet, as she leant back with an impish grin.
Eleanor's vision flashed with a glimmer of familiarity, and a cracking tense of worry as one of the powerful gems of fuelling strength was ripped from her soul. "That power... Are you an exorcist?!"
Orbs rolling with deadpan incredulity, the Witch spun with a vibrant pose and flourish of arms, "Wrong!" she stated with an accusatory point, "I am a witch, for whom the universe is a plaything and the souls of men but motes!"
Boom!
During the woman's prideful prattling, the struggling malakhim behind unleashed a wrathful spire of rushing water; arte finally launching away the stacking pews with an overwhelming crash! Sending cracking debris across the hall and the half-malak stumbling back suddenly, breath ripped from his throat as he lent back against the stalwart sword. A careful gloved palm rested at Sarid's back to steady his balance, while the Witch frowned in annoyance.
Twisting with an extravagant spin, a gargling sphere of deep azure pumped with bloating, wild elemental energy dancing at her palm, before she hurled it behind with a dramatic hand on hip; the coalescing ball of mana detonating among the four with a visceral splatter, sending them reeling to the now soaked floor, unconscious.
The casual casting of such magnitude stunned the remaining force, as Magilou grinned, stepping forth with a vivacious splay of arms. "Oh, but if it's a name you need... Call me Miss Magilou!"