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Dante versus Lasher
Dante sways to a melody, unheard by all onlookers, and even by Lasher, his foe. Dancing delightedly, he lifts on foot to
the air, spreading them parallel to one another, one aimed up towards the blaring, burnt orange sun overhead. Continuously
he moves, steps as light as feather and not even leaving a mark upon the earth underfoot. How light his slippers must be,
for he suddenly leaps, streaming into the air, and landing in a fetal ball, slightly resembling a pearl, save for the madly
glowing crown, announced boldly against the all white form, which is the vampire lord. Slowly, following still to the unheard
rhythm, goaded on by the tensing muscles of Dante's back, his wings snap to, exposing their darkness from the sea of white
that floats mid-air, unscathed by the shadows. Lo and behold, the gargant wings spread out like a blanket of velvet, eclipsing
the sky, and it's child, the sun, from all humanly view. The only glow is the eerie aura that streams down from the wings,
forming a massive sea of darkness all around, and it grows, drowning out all sound, sight, sense, and life...Trees fall before
the cloud of night, and animalls run, shrieking as if pursued by invisible demons. Enigmatic screeches emanate from the poisoned
forest; life comes to a halt within the range of the dusk. Only the strong survive, and the ball of light that rests within
it all is abnormally so. The sphere sparks, and explodes, spires of light exterminating spots of darkness, but not the charnel
house about Lasher. One spire cuts through, a pointed dagger, formed of pure magics, and jutting with full tenacity and rage
at Dante's unformidable foe!
Lasher grins with ectasy as the fiendish vampire flies through the air with such grace as a dove diving to it's untimly death.
The foul revenant unsheathes the green illuminated sword, the sword radiates with an such emence power it could brighten even
the deepest bowels of hell. Steadily the battle ready Lasher holds his choas breaker towards the dagger that cuts through
the stale tavern air which escapes from the door behind the contestants in his direction. As the minute weapon approaches
the demonic creature he swings his magestic sword in a perry. After avoiding the dagger he charges at Dante, the earth beneath
them roars as if it's the sky during a thunderstorm, he lets out a horrid battle cry which can be heard from Gualon to Cenril
and takes a swing at the infamous vampire Dante with a exelant demonstration of precision and power.
Dante hold in his tight orb of light, which ripples as a lake does if hit with a large rock. Lasher's sword slides like
a brimstone into butter, cutting straight through the floating orb, and dividing it into two seperate pieces. Each half of
the whole holds with it a wing, which sinks into the sea of light from which it portruded. The half-spheres each seep down
into the grainy dirt, taking a milky form, thick and purely white. Bit after bit the substance sinks down, finally all disappearing
into the hidden world beneath your feet. Innate rumblings come from beneath, shaking the earth from it's foundations, and
causing chasms of deep abyss to tear out upon the surface. Each steams with a sulfurous fire, and smells of death, and other
strange reek. Two of the valleys begin to corrode on the inside, coming together to form a larger, more extreme rent, and
then something strange occurs. A large block of stone shoots up, stopping at the edge of the valley, and, as if by magic,
it works itself into a long, flowing spiral of steps. The, the clattering of loose rocks can be heard, and the slam of foot
upon stone. Darkness evades, and scampers off to unknown ends as light begins to make it's way up the deep hole. It, the light,
needs no introduction, for when it reaches the top it turns out to be the one and only, Dante, wearing upon his plae face,
as a ruby in the snow, a smile, formed of wine-red lips. His talons, elongated nails, matching to the colour of his grotesquely
thin lips, can be seen glowing in the radiance of his body. And with a feral, berseker rush, he streaks forward, slashing
vigorously, and wildly; So fast that flames spark under toe, and follow like lemmings after his nails, as they rush at Lasher.
Lasher widens his eyes as Dante rapidly nears him, flames spit forth from the eyes of the revenant. The damned creature then
thrusts the chaos breaken into the harsh decrepid earth beneath the fighters, the ground shakes with fury as it begins to
open like a rose in bloom, Engulfing the surronding tree's. The noise is like that of a million war hammers beating into the
soil of the blackend earth. The opening ripples towards Dante with equal speed of himself. The skies grow dark as if hell
was rising, lightning cripples surrounding wildlife. Sadistic pleasure enlops the face of Lasher as Dante nears the swallowing
earth.
Dante rages onward, his claws burying deep into the ripples of soil that approach him in flows of power, but after entering,
his body never removed from the opposite side. Any shadows that remain begin to creep out, seeking out for the missing light
and slowly they feel safe once more, returning to their normal places, resting beneath anything they might find. Strangely
though, they do not halt, they continue to crowd in, coming into the ring in which Lasher stands, surrounded by earthen ripples.
Choking darkness takes over once more, reigning over even the rays of the sun, averting it's ray to other places. Each charcoal
thing begins to mold, forming a barely distinguishable figure, and again, there stands Dante, flames straying all about in
the background. A half of his face is scrapped and torn, and blood pours like a waterfall from his wounds; presumably the
waves of rock did hit him. Certain claws are broken asunder midway, and he looks fairly beraggled. Through it all he smiles,
and the look of homeliness seems to slip from his body, waved away like a insignificant bug. Every crimson topped nail retracts,
and their hands move towards a blade at Dante's side. Echoes of metal upon metal ring out shrilly, and a sword is held high,
gleaming in all it's silver taint. The striking bolts that cascade from above begin to move in upon the blade, and finally
strike it, sending a glowing jolt through both the wielded, and wielder. With the powerful charge surging through him, Dante
lowers his sword, and leaps forth, allowing a flame to combine with the electric glow, as the blade streams out towards Lasher.
Lasher removes the choas breaker from the home it had burried into the earth. The revenant swings at Dante's blade, a loud
eletrifing metal on metal noise peirces his ears. The shock from the vampires blade hurls Lasher against the tavern wall dropping
him to his knee's. Raising himself, blood trickles from underneath the armor covering his left shoulder. The blade must have
sliced through in the from the ricochet. He howls in pain as he clenches his fangs, in a final attempt he drops the chaos
breaker and reaches for the crossbow at his side and shoots a single arrow towards Dante.
Dante laughs at the weakened state of Lasher, and raises a hand to the streaking bolt from his crossbow. The thing halts
suddenly, just as the tip reaches his skin. With a second of concentration, he sends the arrow into a fit of flames, streaming
off eastwards, sailing with great speed out past the eaves of the sea...
Dante versus Nicolo
Dante's body takes on an abnormal stiffness, vertically matched to the highest tree's of the wood. Like the boughs of the
canopy, his hair sways, fluttering in the wind, and glowing as luminescent as the moon upon the ripples of the sea. Set deep
within his eyes is a forest, dark green and obviously concealing many secrets; Days past rest within his deep pools, and days
yet to come, and most disturbing of all is the mirrored image of the vampires foe, Nicolo. Perspiration bursts from every
pour and stands cold, and shining in sheets upon his forehead, glowing over the snow like skin. The agony of suspense grows
at length intolerable, until Dante cautiously moves forward, gripping for the hilt at his side. In an easy move, he slides
the weapon from it's sheathe, and as he does so flames leap upon the brand, glowing with a black, sulfurous luster, and smelling
of brimstone. In it's spires of heat can be seen the agonizing torture of unrepenting beings, and the gasping faces of innocence,
persecuted by the evils of the land. As if angered by these images, Dante screams, his shouts thrumming with a cavernous echo
from the pits of his chest. In his rage, he rushes towards Nicolo, a pinnacle of light, flashing against the dull background
that is the world. Within the peripheral area of his undead foe, Dante streaks his blade outward, flames grasping out towards
Nicolo, as the blade itself is pulled after them.
Nicolo feels the raging sword billowing towards him, the heat felt fresh on his face smattered with red and black war paint.
Nicolo flips his iron pike around and digs the point into the ground. As he jumps back, arcing his back out away from the
oncoming blade, he shoves the pike’s staff to the side, attempting to parry the blow. However, his chest does not escape
the swing, grimacing as the fiery blade rips through his cloak and to his shock slicing through his dark armor. Nicolo looks
down and touches a gloved hand to the wound, only to pull it back with a dripping deep red line of his own blood. He bares
his fangs which gleam in the night and holds his pike at the ready. Nicolo rears back and lets the lance fly at Dante, aiming
high for his opponent’s throat. As he releases the shaft he swiftly draws his own blade, flaming with orange fire, and
spins around, mimicking the spear’s speedy approach, this time to Dante’s torso.
Dante halts, watching with great inquistion as Nicolo traces along his bloody wound, and readies his own attack. With avidity,
seen only when Dante seeks a good foe, the vampire waits, and clenched tight about the pearl hilt of is sword, skin stretched
about his blanch knuckles. As the air breaks, succeeding to the cutting path of Nicolo's projectile, and then to Nicolo himself,
Dante simply seems to fall into a lethargic state, stumbling forward a bit, and having to set out his foot to keep from tipping.
A sickening thud resounds into the southern edges of the forest, and a bird gives off a startled 'kree', before streking out
before the oncoming Nicolo, yet after the pike, which collided solidly with Dante's collar bone. Crimson dye overcomes the
shoulder piece of Dante's sickly robe, and spreads like wildfire throughout it, and still his enemy approaches. The gap between
the two duelists nearly closed, Dante seems to snap to, able-willed, and prepared for battle once more, but just as he does,
the oncoming blade slides into his billowing, stained robes, sinking in deep, and taking both Dante and Nicolo falling back.
As he descends to the earth, Dante drops on hands back, and pushes off to the side, tearing his torso away from the weapon,
but as if by a miracle, no flesh is removed, but a low gasp escapes his wine-red lips. With the utmost care, he clambers up,
and turns to face Nicolo, his arms pressed upon his torso. With a sly smirk he releases his supposed wound, yet instead of
the steam of frsh blood, there is the polychromatic display of lights, and nigh are two spires, both as of frozen light, and
sharp as razors, each twirling in high speeds upon Nicolo.
Nicolo is momentarily stunned. “What sort of vampire is this?” he mumbles under his heavy breathing. Pushing himself
up from the ground he is soon confronted with hurtling spires whose origins bewilder him. Nicolo, still holding his flaming
sword, brings his ever-ready broadsword from under his robe and leaps to his left. Slamming the broad and stubborn blade into
the ground, Nicolo swings flips above it, robe and cape flapping in motion and revealing his large dark shield strapped to
his back. The whole motion would have been smooth had not Dante’s spires of light slammed into him, ending his exhibition.
One rips straight through the right side of his back, shredding his shield and exiting out his chest. The other seems to merely
slip by his wildly flung left thigh, but a large spurt of blood suggests otherwise. Rising soonafter from the dust before
the tavern, Nicolo calmly coughs up blood which spills down his throat. A wheezing can be heard from his belabored breaths
as he retrieves his broadsword and advances on Dante. A primal scream in pure denial of the punctured lung sprays forth bloody
mist as he runs, scarcely limping from his injuries, and swings both swords down. His intent is soon revealed as fine dirt
springs up towards Dante’s face, soon followed by two blade, one burning and one whistling with the speed of an enraged
vampire.
Dante sputters and tosses his arms violently in the clouded air. His eyes glaze over, as grains of dirt press against his
lenses, and being a fountain to his eyes. Tears of a sea blue reflect trounce down his robe, and splatter upon the ground,
with a great splash. Each droplett after spreads out like fine beads of dew, each touching upon a preordained spot, and each
carrying a mystical, and archaic power. the ground beneath each splatter ices over, slickening the ground before Nicolo's
onslaught. Also, two other drops touch the brown earth, and immediately summon forth great glacial clefts that send spidery
leylines streaming between one another, barring the vampires from one another. The webs of gossamer irridessence glitter beautifully
in the ivory rays of moonlight, fragile things, perhaps to much so. Without any true resistance the frozen magics break before
Nicolo, and his swords streak a path upon the unprotected Dante. At the last moment, Dante snaps open his gargantuan wings,
a flurry of icy shards, caught in hints of light, and sand, and dust follow, just as the vampire begins to streak up and away.
Sadly it is not enough, and both blades bury into his chest, each burning with a diffeent feel of pain. Wrenching away from
Nicolo, weapons still holding within his chest cavity, Dante flutters back, and collapses into the dusts.
Dante versus Talaryn
Dante forms gestural movements about his torso with his good hand, and in the space between his body and hand there forms
a void of darkness that shines with shadow, and slowly, as if compelled by the force of need, the sword of 'Blackfyre' explodes
from the void. From the black chamber where the sword lay in wait, slowly being reformed by the heat and choking power of
darkness. The sword had returned, readied to do battle. Dante's hand wrapped about the blackened hilt, wrought of pure obsidian
stone, and empowered by the dark powers of the demonic races of the underworld. A chain of black metals hangs just under the
hand guard, and is spiked, and as if having a mind of it's own, begins coiling about the blade of the sword. From the chain,
the flames ignite, pouring out in darkness, and counteracting all that is light.
Dante said, "The Black Flame Returns....."
Talaryn snarls through gritted teeth at Dante and tightens his hold around the silver hilt of his powerful brand. A flash
of darkness envelops the tavern for a split second, snuffing every candle in the room and creating several trails of smoke
floating up from their extinguished wicks. Time seems to slow itself and the atmosphere surrounding the obsidian blade of
the 'Sword of Shadows' begins to hum softly in protest to the awesome power emanating from the weapon. With a loud, lingering
wail, the sword is lit up with wafting shadows that seem to dance along its edge with a furied zest. Small, arcane runes light
up along the length of the blade and throb with a vibrant white glow that could send a normal man into terror. With a quick
flicker of his wrist, the draconian watches the blade slices nimbly through the air and returns it to a readied position before
tossing his gaze upon the angered face of Dante.
Talaryn said, "Only to be destroyed by the Sword of Shadows!"
Dante is upon Talaryn in a second, the flames of his weapon burning nearly as high as the last time they encountered their
maker, Solaris. With a powerful backhand, Dante slashes at Talaryn from the right side, the spires of shadow flames lashing
out in protest at the dragon warrior.
Talaryn roars in fury as the battle begins. With a swift upward pull of his arm, the 'Sword of Shadows' is brought up to catch
'Blackfyre'. As the two swords meet, an incredible rain of sparks light the darkened tavern and sprinkle to the floor. In
the brief moments that commence, the shadows coming off of both blades intertwine with one another and partake in a battle
of their own.
Dante runs the blade of his sword up that of Talaryn's, dragging darkness upon darkness, and igniting light. As the two
blades leave one another, Dante raises his leg and forces it fully forward towards Talaryn's chest, 'Blackfyre’ held
in perfected alignment with his heel.
Talaryn lets out a loud grunt as the bottom of Dante's boot impacts upon his breastplate, creating a hollow thud as it does
so. Staggering backwards, the crazed warrior leaps up into the air and darts forward, diving into his opponent with great
force; aiming his weapon towards the beating heart.
Dante rotates on his force of gravity, shifting legs and bringing his other over, his slippered foot bearing down upon
Tal's weapon as his arm brings 'Blackfyre' plunging down at his opponent. The aim is slightly thrown amiss as the shadows
of Talaryn's blade begin to bear into Dante's unprotected soul.
Talaryn roars insanely, his emerald eyes erupting with a chaotic fury as he pushes his sword towards Dante. A sudden flurry
of movements take place, visible only as a streak of black and grey through the darkness of the tavern. In a few instants,
Talaryn has relocated himself behind Dante and cuts his weapon into the spine of his foe, shadows branching out in all directions
as Talaryn exerts his total domination of power into this single blow.
Dante screams out and buckles under the force of the 'Sword of Shadows', fueled by the enigmatic and wild fury of Talaryn,
yet, Dante is not quite so easily taken. His skin blackens about his wound, condemned by the shadow. But with 'Blackfyre'
he returns the gestures of pain, for with each throb of horrendous harm the flames grow more powerful. Finding an opening,
he juts the sword behind him, making his mark in the wound where Talaryn's hand once was. The blade and flames go deep, hardly
giving leeway to Dante's enemy. With a wrenching yank, the sword is drawn out from its new holster, and tears forth through
the skin. Dante falls forward and slides from the blade of Talaryn's weapon, landing upon all fours on the floor.
Talaryn seems to ignore the raging pain that sends waves through his arms as 'Blackfyre' moves into his arm. A swift movement
brings the blackened blade of the 'Sword of Shadows' to come crashing into the brand of his opponent. A hideous clang rings
out through the air as the two swords strike one another, sending sparks in all directions. Dante's blade moves out of its
place, followed by a splatter of crimson blood. Another intense roar breaks out from his shaking form as he begins to channel
his very essence into the sword. The earth shakes violently, causing the floorboards to wiggle out of place. The wind from
outside blasts through the wooden door of the tavern and fills the establishment with an icy chill. The eyes of the young
warrior give signal to his power. Having never in his life exerted so much energy into a single attack, Talaryn shakes with
the weight of it, and in a final moment, the sword breaks away from his stone-like hold, spinning mid air and giving off waves
of electric energy. The shadows that surround it cast a haze of darkness over everything and suddenly, it flies towards the
chest of Dante, creating a trail of destruction in its wake as tables and chairs shatter in its presence.
Dante wrestles with Talaryn on power and might for a time, but is caught off guard by the rotating blade which crashes
into his chest, shattering his entire cavity. The blade protrudes even through the back and continues its shadow overtaking,
blackening which flesh it might touch. His entire form is thrown into the tavern wall and pinned against the wooden boards
by great force and exertion. Slowly the shadows overtake all his body, engulfing him as well as 'Blackfyre' in a void of encumbering
darkness. And for a time all hope seems lost, but 'Blackfyre' does not fail its master and explodes with it's fiery aura,
and even itself comes to wrest with the 'Sword of Shadows'. In a meeting of raw energy, the tavern’s gravity is tossed
about, and tables float high and are simply pulled into pieces, sharding and being pulled into the void. Dante's hand too
is pulled into the void, but takes hold of something, a handle, cold and dark. From the void he pulls forth a new weapon,
one of immense destructive capability and powers beyond those of any yet seen. Blackfyre and the Sword of Shadows have fused.
Energy focused back upon him, rushing into his body and giving him the power to wield the devastating brand. Pointing the
tip at Talaryn, Dante begins to chant, and even the stars of heaven fluxuate at the archaic commandment. And from high above,
bypassing even the uncharted areas of the skies, there comes huge forms of dark matter which pummel through the upstairs and
down into the tavern, unto Talaryn. Into the tumult Dante rushes, his new sword glowing as it comes down upon Talaryn, cutting
deep into his shoulder, and like a hot knife in butter, it slides purely through, only stopping due to Dante’s doing.
Then all is silent.
Talaryn falls to his knees with a soft thud as the blade exits his body, leaving a severely bleeding and opened wound that
moves down from his shoulder to his gut. Blood pours down from his mutilated form and stains the wooden floorboards. A soft
sigh escapes the draconian's lips as he sits there in disbelief of his own defeat. The once emerald hues of his pale visage
have now faded into a melancholy gray, widened and searching the face of Dante. Before long, Talaryn falls forward, hitting
his face upon the wooden floor and breathing heavily, his body moved up and down from the exhaling and inhaling of his nearly
ruptured lungs...
Dante stumbles back, crashing against the wall, dragging the sword along the wood, and leaving a deep rut.
Talaryn attempts to push himself to his feet, still not accepting his current state : body split in twine from the shoulder
to the waist.
Talaryn attempts to speak, "Damnitt....my son...tell him I loved him. Don't tell him the bad things....Don't tell him how
I died...
Talaryn said, "Mother....tell her I loved her despite it all...."
Talaryn writhes for a moment, "Where is Shinnan!? She can help me....Jade! Silk!" As he drifts closer to death, all vision
is taken from him and every sound seems to fade into oblivion....Terrified tears well up in his eyes, "I'm too young to die...."
Talaryn speaks now to anyone who can hear him in his whispering, blood choked voice, "Talaryn doesn't die....You don't forget
Talaryn...."
Talaryn finally dies, his body growing cold and stiff over the pool of his own blood. All breath escapes from Talaryn and
his torn body lies motionless upon the floor.
Dante still drips blood from his lost hand, and his body heaves with heavy breaths.
Dante stands and walks over to the felled body of Talaryn, outstretching his palm, thinking back to so earlier on, when this
exact thing he did to Pahn.
Dante said to Talaryn, "Your soul is mine..."
Dante is tossed back as the black ghost-like form spirals about his body and finds haven in the pits of Dante, not to be released
until the end of days...
Kaine versus Dante
Kaine unsheathes his sword, 'The Burning Dawn', and holds it strongly in his hands, the tip of the razor edge facing almost
straight up, the hilt down by his waist. In the darkness of the night air, the black diamond is almost invisible, revealing
its location for split seconds at any one time, as it reflects the light of the moon through its perfect facets. Kaine sidesteps
cautiously around Dante in a large circle, watching him closely, learning about how his fights, simply by observing his pose,
stance, and eye movements. As Kaine shifts around to Dante's left hand side, he slows to a near halt, and springs off his
right foot, charging at Dante with an almighty roar. Dust kicks up from the ground as Kaine's pace quickens, his toes tapping
the earth only momentarily before darting into the next step. As Kaine nears Dante, he raises 'The Burning Dawn' above his
head, and rears it back in a circular motion. The apex of the diamond blade drags against the stone, liberating sparks of
molten stone from the slabs of bedrock. The sword cuts a gouge in the foundation beneath it as Kaine swings it in front of
him, spraying a mist of glowing liquid stone into Dante as his sword arcs into his face. Kaine draws his sword backwards only
slightly, as the tip of the blade slices the air in front of Dante's face, a shrill whistle emanating past his. He uses the
momentum of his weapon to carry him further as he leaps over Dante, and gyrates around his centre of gravity, to land safely
on his feet. Before he has even landed, however, Kaine swings his blade around behind him, into Dante's abdomen. Kaine exhales
heavily, putting all his strength into the blistering hot blade as it arcs it's course into Dante with a horrendous shriek,
a majestic orange streak trailing behind the molten embers...
Dante sneers at his enemy, as Kaine walks a path around him, a meager thing, nothing in the pile that is his defeats. His
eyes remain fixed on his enemy, watching as he speeds forward, the force of his every movement. The molten rock the spews
forth unto Dante sizzles violently, hissing with the very anger and torment of the earth, peeved at every person who walks
upon it. The orange liquids burn dazzlingly upon the all white drapery that hangs down Dante's body, and the light of them
grows. Even as Kaine's weapon comes crashing through the white cloth, or what you take it to be, the light grows. Dante's
expression does not change, he simply stands there, a blade bored deep into him, and qithout warning all is unquieted. The
world explodes with sound. Every bird that finds shelter in the eaves of Sage springs to life, leaping high into the air and
sending it's shrill call across the lands. The very foundations of the earth shake, where somewhere down in hell the pillars
of Hollow shudder under the energies that emanate from Dante's mind. In an explosion of light all is carried out. Dante rushes
forward, one foot pounding before the other, dragging his dripping body from Kaine's blade. Straight towards the Tavern he
runs, and coming to it, he places one foot unto the wall and pushes back, vaulting, with dominant speed, back at Kaine. The
vampires wings snap open, glowing brightly with a mingled aura of darkness and light, and from their tips come two orbs of
a silvery substance, heating the air around them to smoldering temperatures. Each orb leaps forth, streaking towards Kaine,
Dante screeching after them, his heel outstretched for the Assassin's throat.
Kaine 's sword slices the empty air before crashing into the stone path, stone fragments spewinig around his weapon. Kaine
crouches low to the ground, sitting motionless, his form resembling a spider as he watches Dante intently, shaking slightly
with each of Dante's thunderous footsteps. Kaine stands and readies himself once again as the vampire charges towards the
tavern, not totally sure of the warrior's intentions. Kaine's eyes widen, everything appearing to slow down in his mind as
the gargantuan foot hurtles towards his head, the slightest noise echoing eternally in his mind. The elf leaps into the darkness
of the Kelay rooftops, landing silently on the tavern, before Dante has even reached his initial position. He readies his
crossbow, cautios not to make the click of his weapon too audible as he centres the sight on his adversary, firmly squeezing
the trigger. With a dull click, the steel bolt leaves its bow, twisting as i t makes its way towards the heart of the vampire...
Dante doubletakes the sight, as the elf disappears from view, and quickly he draws into a tight ball, and rolls across
the footworn path. His body immediately springs outward and finds a ready position, as he seeks out his advesary. His senses
are hieghtened to the point that even the crash of waves at the eastern see is within earshot. His emerald eyes, endowed with
crimson veins by the blood of Solaris, run over the area thoroughly, turning to each and every movement or sound. Then, as
if ordained by the gods, his hand springs up before his breast just as Kaine's bolt comes shooting towards him. The point
pierces easily through the vampires flesh and the shaft moves halfway down, one side drenched in blood. Dante peers at his
trembling hand and then turns his gaze upward towards the rooftop. The wind continues it's howling course through the forests
and valleys of Hollow, and even through the moonlit hair of Dante, and in the night, the moon hovering in the starless sky
above, he looks angelic, all save the devilish pierce of his eyes, locked and burning on Kaine. With the speed that only one
of his majestic race could muster, he grips his broadswords blade and yanks it up, a ringing of steel bouncing from the sheath.
The sword he lets fly high into the air, and kneeling and pushing with great force, he flies after it, flapping his wings
once to push himself higher. Easily does he catch up to the blade, and his form moves with even more speed and elegance to
the rooftop. Landing like some ravenous and winged beat of old, Kaine sees evil, and Dante moves like light towards him, sword
moving from hand to hand, a blur within a blur. Which way he intends to strike form becomes an engma, until he suddenly disappears.
The world silences, but the feeling of safety is unreal, and reality kicks back into play. From high above, Dante can be heard,
hurtling downward with his sword aimed down, but he passes Kaine by, crashing instead into the tavern, and sending an explosiong
of wood up and down, as the roof splinters into nothingness, carrying Kaine and huge beams with it.
Kaine smiles slightly, hearing the sound of his weapon piercing flesh, and raises his sunglasses for a clearer look. His smile
quickly fades, however, when he realises that his opponent is nowhere to be found. Seconds later he is thrown from the roof,
into the wall of the adjacent building, a strange crunch heard inside his head. He stands for a moment, his vision blurry,
his sunglasses shattered into his forehead. He swaggers for a moment, and collapses, negative thoughts stampeding through
his mind. If he can't beat Dante, what hope does he have against Sefius? Kaine's eyes squeeze tight, the chilling reality
of death finally chiselling itself into his mind. At that moment, he releases a bloody roar, throwing his head up towards
the heavens, his skin rippling like a pool of jet black water as he releases Garland, his inner demon, his last resort. Blood
and sinew shower the audience as his spine mutilates into razor edge spikes, tearing through his flesh. He groans in pain,
and whimpers as he begins to bulk, his muscle mass increasing but his skin staying the same size, stretched to its very limits,
and tearing around the joints. The fallen angel, Garland, climbs to his feet, towering well over Dante. Garland extends both
palms, and clasps them together, pulling out long bone sabres concealed in his arms, dripping in crimson blood. Garland roars
again and spreads his long, leathery wings, and begins to take slow, haunched steps towards his opponent, the ground beneath
his feet charring to a grainy black. Several metres away from Dante, he raises both weapons above his head, a brilliant green
spark dancing a majestic arc from one edge to the other. He grunts quietly and points both sabres towards Dante, the sparks
gathering to form a swirling orb of negative energy, then slowly morphing into the shape of his own head, and hurling itself
straight towards Dante's chest, the screams of thousands echoing in the stagnant night air as dim visions of brutal, bloody
deaths flash in the minds of those watching, and thousands more gliding through the cold air towards Dante.
Dante is still in a slight stupor, for he didn't expect such an impact when he planned his assualt. Slowly, very slowly,
he staggers up and looks from side to side, catching no sight of Kaine within view. Every throb of his head causes the earth
to shake, and as it does, Dante becomes curious. Never has he caused such a thing, by the pounding of his own mind. Then,
as he looks down in awe, he hears the horrific sound of power, and everything turns dark. his head swivels up with great speed,
only to catch sight of a massive, green display of power. There is a large clap, as if thunder had struck, and Dante's body
is sent sprawling back, meeting it's repose in the haunches of a tree near the edges of Sage. His breathing is heavy and he
can hardly pull himself up, but manages, a whimper imposing on his lips. Lodged directly through his thigh is a thick and
sharp bough, and there he hangs, pouring blood from two huge orifices. Rage and madness overtakes him. His pooling blood upon
the earth seeps down between the grain, and finds its way into the roots of the overgrown shrub. Immediately death overtakes
the thing, and the tree shrivels. Like one of the many leaves, Dante comes floating down to earth, though not with so much
grace. All that is heard before he takes flight is a glass-shattering scream, and the sound of wings beating. His membranes
pulsate with blood, red hidden under the black and white coloration. Within the white something seems to grow and you look
on in a mixture of wonderment and fear. From the pearl places of his wings fly six long and gangly appendages, each tipped
with a white fluxuation in the shape of a hook. Dante gives a powerful flap of his huge wings and from each three of the appendages
fly, streaming and grasping for Kaine, as Dante takes flight high into the air, hoping to drag his victims body as high as
he can, and drop him. Without looking to see if he has yet caught his foe in the hook, he streaks into the sky, his vile weapons
still after Kaine.
Kaine's hands release clouds of green and grey smoke, gradually fading to their shiny black hue. He laughs through his closed
mouth and makes his way into the darkness, pursuing Dante. The demon's lust for blood doubled with every gargantuan step.
Garland grunts curiously as the winged vampire soars into the sky, with no weapon in hand. The demon raises an outstretched
palm to his opponent, and begins gathering a charge for a second attack. Seconds later, the spears break out of the darkness,
the bile and gore coating them glistening in the taverns dim glow before crashing into his flesh. The first appendage connects
with his stone-hard chest, shattering into hundreds of shards upon impact. He laughs, but keels over in agony as the second
hits where his flesh is broken, grasping and groping at his innards. Garland roars horrendously, trying to pull the object
out, until the final appendage wraps itself around his head, dragging him over the ground. As he begins to lift into the air,
he manages to grasp onto the gutter of the store, leaving Dante with nothing more than bile and body tissue in his appendages.
Garland shrinks as he falls towards the ground, onto a pile of hay against the wall. Kaine lies in a bloody heap, his chest
heaving, as Garland's wounds appear on his body.
Dante versus Solaris
Dante suddenly falls into a fit of convulsion and stumbles left to right, before dropping to his knees; the light from
his robes pulsates brightly then flickers and wavers. You stare on in wonderment at the sight of the powerful being falling
to nothing but the air that seems to be here. In a split second the huge appendages, wings grafted by dark magics to Dante's
back, sprout forth in a darkening glow. An updraft of sweltering heat pours unto the wings, drawing the trembling form of
the vampire to his feet, then back, pinned heavily to the tavern wall. Pale lids close over his eyes, hiding the crimson and
emerald deeps. Darkness seems to be engulfing him, wrapping over and over in some place hidden in his body or soul. A hellish
voice expells from Dante's throat, blasting towards Solaris, "For honor, glory and justice, beast!" The wings fall like drapes,
enshrouding Dante and the blackness fades. The wings begins to warp, glowing white and silver hues that explode vividly about
the road. When the wings are pulled back, Dante stands, magnificent and bueatiful, pulsating with a liquid irridescence that
pushes shadow from its holds and crevices. The once black wings have transformed, taking on an all snowy colour that gleams
with his aura. His pale hand slides downward, grasping at the black hilt of 'Blackfyre', and drawing it out with a dull ring,
from a scabbard, formed of shadows and stormclouds. All goes silent in the moment before fire prances upon the steel blade,
only much differently than expected. Ever spindle of flame is glowing a bright pearl, white as fleece, and burning with a
newfound power and heat. Rushing at Solaris, weapon heldfast, hand outstretched, a glowing ball forming in his palm. HIs form
flies between Jacklin and Merdread, a wake of power flowing behind him. With a roar of disdain, he releases the explosive
ball of light and leaps from the ground, twirling like a dancer in the air, his cloaks like beautiful ribbons flowing behind,
his flaming sword sending cinders of snow-like flames flying towards Solaris. He continues in his downward spiral, his wings
swarming around him, also covered in the flame soft light. Speed carries him, and hate fuels him as 'Blackfyre', now alight
with white flames, and the wings of darkness, now engulfed in pearl flames and coloured the same, express a heated want for
Solaris to feel pure pain.
Solaris turns with a suddeness as his hatred flares up. His white featherd wings spread gracefully as he straightens his back,
gaining several more inches in height. His mouth opens and expels a voice both beutiful and fair saying, "And now we see who
the most foolish of the mortals is." The voice turns harsh and cruel as Solaris erupts in a fit of laughter. Solaris' grey
skin surges as his muscles begin to tense. The smell of flowers that follows him around changes subtly, carrying with it now
a feeling of confusion, as the golden glow from his eyes slowly changes to a crimson color. He draws forth the Dark Scythe.
A sense of dred sweeps across the people as its dark blade casts a shadow about the room, driving away the light from Dante.
Solaris outstretches his hand and catches the ball of light and crushes it within his apathetic grip. Solaris leaps towards
Dante with the Dark Scythe outstretched, rushing to meet Dante head on.
Dante continues in his harrowing descent, flames dwindling around him as the powers of Solaris tries to quench his holy
light, yet the power does not fully fail, but dampens, only to grow more with each move towards his enemy. 'Backfyre' and
Solaris' dark scythe crash together, sending a brilliant display of sparks into the sky. Pure power clashes together, causing
the very ground beneath your feet to quake and crack in thin, spidery chasms, from whence a heat expells, though only a bit.
Good and evil seem to be things of old as the very essence of the two duelists mingles together and creates a strange feel
of nauseation and a field of power that secludes Solaris and Dante from the others. As he struggles against the powers of
his mortal enemy, he pulls back his palm in an condensing of power. Flurries of light form around his balled fist, knuckles
white from the hold, but more from the gossamer veil that engulfs it. Every spire of light begins to swirl swiftly around
their core, Dante's fist, and outstretches into a sharpened cone. His beautiful wings are outstretched, and explode with light
that pounds down upon Solaris, as Dante sends the spike of light spiraling towards him.
Solaris spins the Dark Scythe around and slams the blade into the spike, shattering it. Dark tentacles of energy moves forth
from the tips of his wings, wrapping around Dante and tightening, trapping even his wings within their confines. More and
tendrils of energy burst forth and continue their struggles against Dante. Within the cocoon-like confines of the tentacles,
small portrusions begin forming, puncturing Dante's flesh and embedding themselves deeply, even into his bones. The dark tentacles
swell up with a final surge of power as Solaris cuts them loose from his body. As they swell, Dante's flesh is stretched beyond
its limits. Muffled screams emit forth from the cocoon as his bones begin to crack and turn.
Dante looks on in horror as his body is slowly confined and held, body compacted into a small form, and surrounded by energy.
Screams emit from his body, but are unheeded by anyone, there being no one to save him from his horrid fate. Biting portrusions
begin to dig into hsi body and he wails a high pitched cry, strauggling against the power as his body begins to break and
tear. After what seemed like years of torment to Dante, his body is released and he slams into the earth with a sickening
smash. A dust cloud whirls into the air and Dante lay quietly for a bit. Suddenly, as is bidden by the gods, a stream of light
pours downward from the sky, slamming into Dante and charging itself up. The light beams forth in a ray of nipping cold that
slams into Solaris and inches his form towards the tavern. With a struggle, Dante clambers to his feet, the light having healed
his body somewhat. Step after step, he takes towards Solaris, the beam growing more powerful as the gap between them closes.
Solaris smashes through the Tavern wall, being pushed backwards by a cold beam of light coming from Dante.
Solaris screams in rage against the light and Dante. The tables in the Tavern start to rattle and lift off the ground. The
wood in the tables ripple and start to crack. Solaris thrusts his arms forward and drives back the light. A darkness immediately
follows the light as it rushes back towards Dante. A dark, murky sort of haze surrounds Solaris, only his crimson eyes shining
through it. Solaris picks the Dark Scythe up and leaps at Dante again, this time with much greater speed and force than he'd
used thusfar. Solaris rams Dante with his shoulder and spins around with the Dark Scythe, cutting into Dante's back. A smell
of burning flesh fills the already putrid air as the flames begin to boil Dante's blood and cook his organs.
Dante stumbles backwards, shortly blinded by Solaris blast. When his vison clears, he peers upon a large form rushing towards
him, and tries to brace himself, only to be thrust back. A biting pain came quickly to his body as Solaris' scythe cut into
the deeps of Dante's body, scratching horridly against bone. From the bubbling wound comes an outpour of blood, which immediatly
carmelizes, holding the weapon in place. Wrenching and gasping in pain, Dante tears away from the scythe, tearing away from
a piece of himself as well, as he stumbles foward. His robes begin to reweave themselves with light and all dinginess disperses
from them. You are gladdened as the sight of Dante's ribcage is removed from your presence, but astoundingly he stays standing
ans tunrs to Solaris. "You have hurt me before, evil one, but I take it in stride now...The pain causes me to only grow more,
like a fire fed with dry tinder. Yes, the pain burns, but I take it, only to take you....Now, taste it yourself!" With that,
Dante raises 'Blackfyre', now engulfed in flames of snowwy hue, and expells his huge wings, membranous and pearl. His long
tendrils of hair waft about in the hot air that fills the tavern. Taking a step towards Solaris, Dante lifts 'Blackfyre' and
downward slashes with great force and holiness behind the attack. A beam of pureness, untainted by the evils that overtake
the world, fires from the tip of the blade as it digs into Solaris' godly flesh. Spreading his wings out further, and taking
in all the enrgies of the landscape about him, he returns it tenfold, from the beam of his blade, beam of condensed energies,
in the form of silver flames.
Solaris is lost from sight as he becomes engulfed by the beam. When the onslaught is over, Solaris is standing tall and proud.
He smirks at Dante with a wicked gleam in his eye, "Did you really think you could stand against a God wielding the power
of a Dark Immortal? Your arrogance sickens me." A new darkness takes hold of your sight, as the entire room darkens. The sunlight
streaming inward through the windows starts to die as well. The roof of the Tavern breaks away and scatters into the surrounding
forest. The sun that is normally shining peacefully now hangs in the sky looking darker and sickly, it's cheerfulness now
all but gone. A low noise coming from Solaris causes your stomach to rattle. An aura of black flames surrounds his body, the
flames licking and biting at the air angrily. His wings sit in a restfull position at his sides. He runs at Dante, laughing
maniacly as he raises the Dark Scythe, and swings it down on last time. Dante raises his sword to meet the Dark Scythe but
watches in horror as the sword shatters, sending shards and fragments in every direction, some hitting him, as well as Solaris.
The Dark Scythe continues its downward stroke, and catches upon Dante's colarbone at its center in his neck. It snaps the
bone as one would snap a twig in his hands, and rips through Dante's ribcage spilling his organs onto the Tavern floor.
Dante topples over, body lifelss, blood sprouting in fountains from his body. The crimson thickness drenches the tavern,
soaking wood and people as well. Amazingly, he moves, dragging himself slowly into a dark corner, entrails streaking the floor
behind him with blood the bubbles and froths, forming deep pools. Eyes closed, and holding a part of himself up, Dante steps
into the deep pool, disappearing beneath the vermilion liquid which evaporates as Dante is engulfed, leaving only a single
blood drop in the entire tavern.
Dante versus Alexander
Dante appears from within the dimly lit, heavily aired tavern, and stalks out onto the tough grit. His slippers chew loudly
into the path, crunching like animals into upon the ground, as he stomps in Alexander's direction. Ice nipped skin, pale as
the newborn snow, wombed from eastern clouds, shimmers with matching irredessence to his long, dragging robe. From within
one of the silver arms of Dante's clothing comes a pallid hand, overburdened with a shaky resolution. Freezing gales begin
to pick up with each footfall, and the icy whispers of the wind sends a shiver along the spines of the onlookers. The vampire's
phalanges distance the gap to the silver, intricately designed, and inlaid hilt of his weapon - a sword warmed in it's cottage
of shadows - and wrap tioght around it. Every muscle in his body is taught, and wears the cloak of readiness, a shadowing
feeling, setting Dante up for the attack. And all at once it takes place. The sword is drawn from it's housing, releasing
a long and serpentine hiss, feigned by the scratch and hiss of metal upon metal. A heart-wrenching scream pierces the chill
night, and a soft crackling trounces upon the body of the blade, lighting it in a sulfurous flame that casts the heavy smell
of brimstone, torture to the nose. Raising his weapon, Dante holds it fast, and instead of lowering it again he looses torrent
of flames akyn to the likeness of hellfire, followed by the screaming pierce of his blade as it cuts the chosen path of his
pyre.
Alexander 's flaming aura erupts around his armored form, casting a faint green hue around a near meter circumference upon
the ground around him. His eyes watch Dante with keen precision as he releases this flame upon him. Alexander crosses his
arms before him and lowers his head as the hellflame meets the eternal fire released from Alexanders own soul to now cover
his body. Fire battles fire as Alexanders body is surrounded within the extreme heat which begins to melt the rocks and small
pebbles at his feet. As the battle of flame continues, you suddenly see Alexander shoot upwards into the air, wings outstretched
as what little is left of Dantes attack is consumed by the green aura around him. When he believes he has gained sufficient
altitude, he remains in a single spot around the battlefield, wiping a bit of sweat from his brow as much as he can with a
silver gauntlet. " Come Dante, " He yells to his opponent below. " The child of evil will hold nothing back from you. You
cannot afford restraint upon the morrow. Have none now!! " As the last word is spoken, Alexander raises Runeblade high as
the sword of hope glistens in the air. The runes engraved upon the blade begin to glow with a truely holy and awesome brightness
as its song calls forth to the heavens. Acknowledging and responding to the call, a beam of light, no bigger than the blade
itself casts down to touch upon the very tip of Alexanders weapon. Runeblade begins to hum and vibrate as if it were taking
in this light as Alexander brings the sword down with all his might, carrying with it this extention of light as if it had
elongated the blade a hunderedfold as it bears down its wrath upon the thief below...
Dante squints his occuls, a silver haze coming over the panes of his eyes, they ebing the windows to his mind. Every light
that shudders and dances above is caught upon the leafy-green wells, set deep and resolute within his skull. Black as the
most horrific cavern, Dante opens his mouth, a doorway for his words and a monstrous seeming thing, judged by the long and
talon like fangs that hang like stalagmites from the roof of his mouth. A sickening sight exposes itself, as a strangely shaped,
multitudinously haired leg juts from his chasm like throat. His adams apple bobs with grotesque activity, as his throat widens
and bulges, as if inhabited by some huge demon. Biddingly slow, an obsidian coloured arachnid begins to ascend from the putrid
chambers of Dante's body, while Alexander's sword moves in a downward slash, tearing the land behind Dante into a ruinous
state as it approaches the vampire. Tearing flesh sickend even the most iron stomached, and now is now exception, for the
fat-bodied spider seems to rip from it's confines, as if from some egg sac. The vampiric thief's body splits, bursting like
clothing at the seams, and pouring out a flood of steaming, and bubbling blood, which sloshes a deep, red river towards the
oncoming blade of light. As they meet they blood is sent spluttering throughout the area, drenching everything in it's burning
power. The charcoal arachnid, having been forgotten at the split of Dante, seems to have disappeared. Low hisses emanate from
the eaves of the forest, and suddenly a net of gossamer twine is hurtled high into the air at the motionless Alexander. Another
streakes forth, followed by another, and another, and another until uncountable webs have been spit forth. that retract inward,
the spider appears, sucking itself inward, and changing it's color to that of pearl, and Dante appears. With the capture nets
set forth, Dante retreives his sword from the earth, and hurls it up at Alexander, the entire thing spilling over with molten
flames, some of which break away and form deathly spires which approach the knight of hope from all different sides.
Alexander 's eyes widen in horror as Dantes form splits to reveal the eight legged monstrosity that came forth from inside
him. His attention is suddenly turned however from place to place on his body as he is swiftly immobilized by the silken strands.
Trying his best not to struggle in effort to dissuade being tangled further, he curls the wrist that holds his blade in a
futile attempt to cut free his sword arm. His attention is immediately called to the sword that now streaks toward him, followed
closely by the arrows of fire. His eyes erupt in holy flame as he looks upon the spires, ignoring completely the sword of
Dante. The spires begin to shiver slightly as they quicken their pace, overtaking the swords remarkable speed as if commanded
by the sheer will of the phoenix made mortal. Their speed grows as Alexanders eyes close, preparing for their strike as the
flames hit their target, jarring the web violently yet as this happens, you see the flames streak down the strands of webbing
that hold him firm. Swiftly the entire web is set aflame as strand after strand break loose, lowering Alexander considerably.
The sword streaks past Alexanders head closely, had it not been for the now lowered form of the holy knight, the blade would
hav buried itself deep within Alexanders chest as it too cuts through a strand. With that cut, Alexander falls in a tangled
web of flame to the ground as dust lifts up to obscure the view of everyone in the area. A shadowed form becomes visible as
the dust begins to settle around Kelay way yet it bears no resemblance to Alexander. The wings are leathered instead of green
feathers and the armor has changed. The dust is swept clear in a single gust of wind as you now see the form of Talaryn walking
towards Dante from the direction of the crater Alexander had made upon impact with the ground. He sneers at the thief before
him and without a word, lifts his hand up in the direction of Silk as she freezes in place. He raises his index finger as
Silks form begins to rise in the air, commanded by the young draconian as his view still locks with Dante. A truely wicked
laugh comes from him as you see Dantes own sword come down from where it was cast, still bearing the flames around it as Talaryns
eyes widen along with his wicked grin. The sword shoots through the air at a commendable speed yet as it comes closer, you
see it not aimed at the thief before him, no... its target now floats above the ground, frozen in place by the child of Solaris
as the flaming tip of the blade comes ever closer, not simply aiming for Silk, but the unborn child that rests within her.
" What shall you do Dante? Save the ones you love yet sacrifice yourself only to give them a pain that would surpass the blades
strike? For I shall not remain motionless long and I thirst for your blood. Or face your enemy at the expense of your own
love? Choose wisely fool... Pain... or the pain of the ones you love... "
Dante looks wildy, a light springing up in his forests of eyes, and resting in a suspended gaze upon Talaryn. His senses
reel, and his mind boggles in confusion. Water wells into his eyes and tiny droplettes of crystaline luminescence streak over
his face, cutting pathways in the small film of dirt that cakes his face. A palm retreats to his face and wipes away the showings
of cowardice, and fear, and a firm resolve can be seen to rest deep within his tormented mind. Silk, his wife, whom he may
lose tomorrow is there, helpless, and at this Dante simply snaps. Cold, and with no signs of sympathy, the vampiric one tosses
his hand to the sky, and summons up a raging gale. Heavy winds blow in even heavier clouds, darkling in their body, and glowing
in short, quick, pernicious flashes of anger. Two shoot down towards Talaryn in a spidery exposition, while thousands more
approach from over the sea, tearing apart the land from Kelay to Cenril. Hundreds come, all raging at Talaryn, but one streaks
to his side, burying into the earth. The jolt of power inacts another elemental torture, causing the earth to just upward
in jagged peaks just to Talaryn's side, while others approach from just below him. Tree's of the forest turn a deathly brown,
and creak and crack before falling, and catching in the gust of winds that all gravitate to the draconian foe. A figure appears
in the tumultuous show of bellicose ingenuity, and Dante stalks up to the dragon, unscathed by his magics, for around him
they form a protective orb. Gossamer threads intertwine about his fist, and shape into that of a sword, arched and ridge-backed.
With one violent, and belligerent thrust, Dante causes the elements to layer upon the dragon in a godly force, with a weapon
formed of Dante's very essence striking like a cobra upon him.
Alexander shouts " ENOUGH!!! " into the night sky as his hand falls, causing both Sword and Silk to lower unharmed to the
ground. The form of Talaryn melts away as if made of a colored liquid to reveal the form of Alexander within. He leaps into
the air, arcing his head backwards as his arms spread out to either side. A fearsome shriek eminates from Alexanders throat
as the knight calls upon the very forces of the land, tapping into near the same power that had called it as the winds die
down, the earth falls back into place and the waters finally calm. As the resonating sound fades, Alexanders body relaxes
to view the destruction about not only Kelay, but the main area of Cenril as he looks down to Dante in anger. Immediatly he
drops from the skies, landing in a loud thud as his boots hit hard upon the ground. His wings fold behind him as he then sheathes
his holy weapon. " How much is your anger worth to you Dante? You hold it so close... Look around you. Look to the eastern
city. ALL THOSE PEOPLE!!! Will you let your anger wreak havok accross the land? Would you dare let innocent lives be lost
in this effort tomorrow? If this rage you have within you can be called upon in a single moment as it has been now, then there
will be far more deaths and tears from all across this land. Should you let this vile substance grip you, then I guarantee
you shall lose your life to the boy. "
Dante breathes heavily as the glowing sword which he formed metls away, leaving his arm hanging in the air, shuddering
at every thought that rushes through his mind. Suddenly, he drops to his knee's and looses a relieving breath.
Serfius versus Dante
Serfius brings his arms slowly up into the sky, his lips move quickly, archaic words does he descry. The clouds shift, move
with haste as all quickly disintegrate. His visage contorts, filling to the brim with hate. A darkness becomes in Hollow,
the last visible thing- a grin, from which Serfius sires with mischief upon his chin. A sound pierces through, a voice, it
rung "The Crescent Strike!" Then, in demonic tongue, "Kiln`Ðajåh!" The shrill harrow sang- and in the deepest dark, a bright
white fang. Serfius' outline seen vaulting within the obscurity. An arcing blade shimmers, rubicund flame- rapid oxidity.
A spin of the wrist, flickering pyre sprouts miniature flare which carries on the ozone. Left behind still ablaze, they dance
and carry low tone- no sound, all stealth as he lashes out with fury, darkness breaks apart, back-aim, all turned upon Dante.
The blade breaks lose, spinning as it flies out, and as scimitar becomes missile weapon, one last shout out, "Die you fiend,
you aren't meant for this place! Nor are you welcome or embraced by the vampiric race, you disgrace!"
Dante doesn't even give Serfius' fluttering scimitar a chance to come fully to it's mark. His feet begin to pound upon
the platform of Slit's tower within seconds of the toss, and he approaches the flaming brand with a grueling pace. Suddenly,
he halts, Serfius' weapon falling to dust behind the vampiric rogue, as he swiftly removes his own from it's deep, abysmal
sheltering. True to the light, 'Blackfyre' is drawn once more, articulating it's want for battle with a soft emanation of
rays. Every shimmer seeps deep into the tower, and begin to overflow, pooling at the surface, and ever rising, bathing the
world around in it's gleam. 'Blackfyre's' tip kneels forward, by Dante's ordinance, and dips into the pooling light, of which
nothing else seems to enter. Oozing iridescence moves a path up his weapon, and when fully engulfed, it leaps into a silver
pyre. "I rename you, "The White Flame"," Dante utters, as his forested eyes run over the sword. Finally, he returns his attentive
stare to the vampiric foe. Pointing the weapon forth, he sends out a string of bellicose energy, chisled of the white flames,
which contort, and assume a draconic form, one of which you know wholeheartedly. The pearl Talaryn streaks forth, swallowing
the shadows in his path, and returning them behind, burning fangs rushing out towards Serfius.
Serfius lands quick to the floor a minor thud issued, the silence breaks, and all obscurities discontinue. The light returns
to the realm and back to normal, all but the broken wooden panels the floor lines- no longer full. With a full grin of perniciousness,
Serfius emanates a wicked hiss, bellowing from down deep, the sound begins to ring and seep- deep into the night, as it increases
nearly tenfold, the sound altogether nearly one you find yourself able to behold. A wave begins to form, pushing out within
the vicinity, Talaryn’s draconian form nearing voraciously. The wave slams into Serfius’ new found enemy, breaking
into his form, they slam near willingly. And, though, causing no massive damage, it halts the draconian warrior so he cannot
gain the upper advantage. Serfius' body begins to writhe, his visage filled with agony. Muscles tense tightly, framing sinewy
form, his being wretches startlingly. A mercury shining hue creeps his frame downward, it comes to the ground and it begins
to slide outward. The metallic coloration engulfs his entire body, covering his hair and his skin with its aberrant intensity.
Eyes revert, falling upon their foes, they darken- sable -many changes they forego. Lacy veins a luminescent tint of emerald,
maybe jade, neither apparent nor memorable- for the shimmering metallic embrace diverts your gaze- and out slips a purple
haze. Clouded and thick, it moves ever so quick. And though, with its hasty action, the mercury liquid moves with even swifter
motion. It fills each separate crack along the dirt path, turning everything it touches into a rock solid mass. Its speed
near unavoidable, nearing the foes-life threatening orations to those who oppose.
Dante eyes flicker with a burning inferno of emerald, like a wave of thousands of emeralds, as his makeshift Talaryn is
imposed upon by Serfius' dastardly wave. Little caring about the flaming beast, Dante steps the distance of the roof, coming
towards Serfius, slowing as strange colors and formations begin to emit from the fellow vampire's body. His eyes revert to
the ground beneath him, and is taken aback by the shock. Where the coloration flows, the already stone rooftop, is glazed
with another layer. As he redies to leap, the mercury leyline speeds forward, touching upon the sole of his slipper, and beginning
to encrust it with a granite transformation. Dante's teeth clench, as the granite runs hurridly upwards, enthralling him,
up to the knee. With a wrenching tug, his leg pulls free, and he tumbles forwards, rolling to the edge of the rooftop, one
leg encased in stone, as the opposite side of the battleground becomes so too. "The White Flame", still dripping with a radiance
of light, aims upwards towards the moon, causing the silvery rays to wax, and wane, as it's orb becomes shrouded in a cloudy
veil. Each cloud crackles with rage, and finally one cries out, resounding loudly as it sputters forth a rain of lightning.
One bolt slams upon Dante's stone leg, shattering the rocky layer, and sending his body tumbling over the edge. Other continue
to rain down, showering the rooftop in spectacular, sizzling lights, many of which throw themselves at Serfius. The only sound
that out plays that of the crashing of the lightning is a methodic beat off the roofs side. A gust breaks over the surface
of the roof, and Dante can be seen, followed by a small army of dragons, some formed of shadow, others of white flame. His
sword-hand goes forth in a rush call, and all the beasts streak forth, crashing upon the rooftop in a display of night and
day, leaving the vampiric solitary leader to beat his wings in the see of air, awaiting his foe's fate beneath the barrage...
Serfius brings his gaze to Dante as the lightning strikes upon him, a small showcase of what the storm has in store for all
of them. As the roof stirs wildly, shaking with the shock of thunder, Serfius drops to a knee, hands over head, of which he
shelters under. And as he begins to convulse, his skin darkens in tone, reddened flesh stretched over blackened bone- burning
into ash before it disintegrates away, Serfius’s body continues to shake before giving way. It morphs into a large pool
of blood as fast as the blink of an eye, and then, the lightning comes barreling out of the sky. The vitae makes way for a
shinning conductor of the electrical energy, the draconian forms nearly still- unknowingly. As the shocks pass through each
of their hardened carapace and scales, from stepping onto the blood- it doesn’t fail- to bring them to their knees,
dead. Killed by their own masters uncaring and thoughtless dread. The pool of blood then begins to take a form, pulling up
from the ground, as if the very fabric were torn. A body raises out of the wet mass -pulling away. It spins upon the ball
of what seems to be a foot, as it turns, Serfius revealed- drenched, covered in vitae and soot, by the dirty roof of which
the blood had collected up, garments wrap about him. He raises his arms once again, this time his head raises as well, searching
the sky with hellish eyes. He fixes them both to the darkened moon, his sable hues close slowly, though past thin lids, he
views through. His lips close tightly, curved edges, they form a pernicious grin, a feral sign of the beast lurking within.
Without care for reason at all, he speaks the words, “Prepare for the fall.” With that note, a light shines bright,
hung high, deep in the sky with blight. It nears ever closer with every passing second, sheer tenacity dubbing it hell bent.
It slams through the scattered clouds with horrendous might and size, and with this- Serfius opens his eyes. They fall to
his foe, to which he quickly darts at, extending his arms to their fullest reach, then he soars past. Halting so quickly the
roof splits in two, then returning to the back of his adversary to which he becomes adhered to. His arms twist before him,
brought to Dante’s form, gripping with all of his might, hold never to be torn. Awaiting he stands, attempting to keep
his foe, the fiery meteor nearing-preparing a finishing blow. Without a remorse or care for his own survival, his only wish
is for Dante’s downfall.
Dante gasps as Serfius' form emerges, hardly scathed by the onset of powers which he cast forth. Curses roll from his tongue,
and over blood-tinted lips. Heaving a sigh of faliure, the vampire lowers his lids, not expecting them to be clasped for very
long. Upon opening them, he feels a shift of weight, and a consticting about his body. Serfius hangs, like a wild monkey,
from him, lowering their forms some, under the new suspension of weight. Above, a hurtling meteor aims down at the two vampires,
and he, not wanting to disappoint Serfius, in his bid for suicide, gives a tremendous flap of membranous, obsidian wings,
and hurls them both upwards towards the droopping stone. Halfway to the rock, Dante sends his sword out like a boomerang,
delving into the meteor, and tering the fiery ball asunder. In that moment the ball is resized, making it much smaller, and
Dante's flies at it with full speed, catching his sword as he does so. The two forces meet, clashing in the heavens, but Dante
simply folds his wings about the falling stone, and bears it's fiery pains. Carrying Serfius upon his back, downward towards
the top of the tower, Dante cries out, singed and charred by the pyre of the meteoric boulder. As they, Dante, with Serfius
on his back, the top of the tower, Dante screams out through the inferno, and through the already cracked roof comes a barrage
of spikes, aimed at Dante, with Serfius there to shield his back.
Serfius attempts to escape Dante and the boulder, his form distorting as the wings flap in front of him violently, his grasp
loosened, though still gripping it seemingly-he cannot move more than a few inches away from the hellish awakening, and the
massive meteoric creation he himself sired forces him back down to the tower, his body taken in. Though deep within the belly
of the beast, all he can do is summon a grin, deep within his body many happenings, soon perdition. An ethereal being begins
to protrude from his back, writhing about from a newly found crack formed deep in his back. It rips open further, allowing
the ‘thing’ to escape, and as it does, Serfius’ body goes limp and lifeless, hanging from the mass. Soaring
away in a shimmer of light, the ethereal being spreads wings and takes flight. It moves so far away until you’ve lost
sight, and then your eyes divert back to the fight. Serfius’ limp corpse and Dante in danger, then they slam full force
into the tower’s spiked steeple. Serfius’ body nearly destroyed upon impact, though bone and most flesh still
remains intact, and for Dante’s body, nobody knows of, for it is shrouded by masses of rock, spike and stone, all of
which glom. Then, a light becomes visible in the sky once again, mysterious soul wretches upon the crying wind. It comes to
the pile of rock and stone quickly, and it hangs suspended before both contestants hesitantly before entering the body it
once occupied, and the onlookers view to see which of them died...
Dante versus Eldritch
Dante's blood bubbles up in rage, and burns it's course through his veins. The corners of his mouth curl up in humour,
having not fought in some time. Every muscle visible on his body is tensed. He gingerly slides his broadsword into it's sheath
and kneels, pulling two daggers from beaneath his robes. Beginning in his eyes, a shadows begins to grow, hiding from view
every aspect of decency and hint of humanity. The shadow slowly engulfs all his form, moving out in every direction and carrying
with it the waves of change. As the darkness touches his purely white strands the flat, tame hair erupts into a jungle of
different hues that catch the light and reflect it back with a greater radiance. The shadow spreads on further, changing more
of the indistinct features in his body. His crimson coloured nails erupt from their sockets, stretching out to exagerated
lengths. Each silver dagger is drawn back into Dante's forearm and sent jutting out once more, protruding near the top of
the wrist, the blade stretching past his feral claws. When the shadow is through his primal transformation is halted. A hoarse
cackle emanates from his throat, followed by an intrusion of jet which darkens the world as you once knew it. The darkness
retorts, forming a large sphere by Dante's side, and it's jelly-like mass forms into a huge panther with rippling black muscles,
and a red glare cast upon eldritch. Clashing his silver appendages together, Dante sends a message to the shadow-beast which
sends it bounding towards Eldritch with a vicious expression, and claws that dig deep ruts into the earth. With a final growl
the monster demivolts towards it's prey, a whistling sound going before it as it's steel-like claws rip through the air in
an attempt on the dragon.
Eldritch extends his long forked tongue from within his mouth, a sly grin of sarcasm on his face in the process. You see a
glimmering of emerald twinkle in the corners of Eldritch's eyes just as a grouping of sparks begin to appear upon the fingertips
of his now outstretched arm. The sparks begin to leap further from his talons into the air, just high enough as to not extend
over the rest of his towering figure. Just as the small creature comes upon him, Eldritch clenches his fist which sends a
blinding jolt of yellow energy through the air, a short distance to reach before it makes direct contact with the fierce feline's
torso, sending it flying back towards Dante. Merely gazing upon the flying 'predator' causes it to burst into blazing blue
flames which leap around its body. With but one more gesture of the mind, Eldritch manipulates the singed beast back directly
in the direction of Dante, still a flaming ball of fury.
Dante gives a deep and pleasured growl, having warmed up a bit more. With a burst of energy, drawn from within, he speeds
out towards the oncoming attack, long, silver hair carrying along behind him in ocean-like waves. Within feet of the fiery
projectile, the vampire lifts from the ground, coming through a torrent of flames, and landing upon the beast, and yet again
leaping off high into the night sky. At such speeds, the heat barely even touches him. High above, Dante comes to an apex
and begins his descent, spiralling as he freefalls towards the large dragon below. his arms press forward through the air,
holding his two daggers blades downward, each whistling with energy as it slices a path through the air. His hair entertwines
it's crimson tips around the blur which he has become, and shines with a hue to match that of the irredescent moon which hangs
high up in the starry heavens. Each strand meets it's ends at his feet, and all is turned to white. A glowing sicle, sharp
as razors, he fords the night air, searching for the blood of a dragon.
Eldritch begins to conjure power from deep within his soul, moving his massive arms rapidly in a small, repetative, diamond-shaped
pattern in front of his body. The earth beneath his feet slowly begins to tremble, gently at first, but with greater intensity;
the air surrounding Eldritch fogs and forms a sphere around him, encircling the massive saurian. Dante nears as the seconds
pass, causing the swirling to greater its speed while a pale magenta light forms in the palm of Eldritch's hand. The ground
below Eldritch shoots outward in all sideways directions whilst the former purple light encompasses Eldritch and combines
with the light fog enclosing him. As contact is made between the to combatants, a tremendous clap of thunder is heard. The
wind picks up from the phantom plains, breezing harshly across your face heading towards a more tranquil Xalious. Dante and
Eldritch seem suspended in time for a short period, until the sudden realization strikes you that the two separted instantaneously
upon contact, and Eldritch was already standing with a deep laceration in his upper-arm. Clutching the talisman closer, a
blue cone forms around Eldritch as Dante nears recooperation, nearly unscathed. A blue orb appears a few meters above him,
glowing brightly while the cone begins to shrink down and disappear into the ground, passing through the draconian as if it
were an illusion. With an outreach of his undamaged arm, numerous spikes of ice charge up from beneath the layer of topsoil,
rapidly approaching Dante in formation...
Dante staggers to his unsure feet and stumbles out before Eldritch, his vision blurred and faulted. Before his eyes dances
a lightly coloured orb, and curiousity takes him as he peers into its deeps. He pays no heed to the rumbling of the earth
beneath him, nor the cold chill that comes over his body, and as he starts forward, he stumbles, falling to all fours. A moan
is heard from Dante's unseen mouth, and just as he begins to regain himself there comes an explosion of soil, and the sickening
squelch of flesh meeting a sharp contender. When the dust and grain clears the air, you can see one of the thinner shards
of ice covered in a vermilion liquid, richly sliding down the blue and silver spire. Atop the the ice is Dante, made whore
to the weapon of ice. His screams pierce the night and his hair dangles down beaded with his sweat from pain. Pulling himself
from the top of his post, he slides down the bloodied berg and topples to the ground, basted in his own bodily fluids. The
vampire pulls himself to his feet with great effort, exposing a deep hole where the ice bored into his form. He does not move,
save the rising and falling of his chest, but his pooled blood upon the path pours forth in Eldritch's direction, encircling
him. Suddenly, as Dante's eyes flare up, so to does his blood, a wall of burnt-orange flames that slowly closes it's ring
around the dragon.
Eldritch looks around himself as the flames begin to enclose from around. His wings twitch slightly prior to beating with
great strength, causing the nearby flames to flicker violently, but not extinguish. Seemingly a bit suprised, Eldritch quickly
regains his mentality and closes his eyes, meditating for a brief moment. With a finesse of the fingers, a pale blue sphere
forms around him, extending itself towards the oncoming flames. Upon contact, the fiery wall burns through the iced orb, still
closing in on Eldritch's position. The torrent of flames, scorching through the humid air, mold to the shape of his body,
producing a deafening roar bellowed from deep within the dragon's stomach. You hear a sharp sizzling as smoke arises from
the surface of his scales. Eldritch's body slumps to the ground, rings of heated mist still slivering up into the surrounding
area. With a few deep groans, he pulls himself up to a kneeling position breathing heavily. He raises his head to look Dante
in the eyes, a smug grin on his face through all the burning agony. The emerald glint appears in his eyes again, this time
with a higher intensity. Eldritch sends a glowering stare straight at Dante's forehead until a deep green beam of light shoots
forth, heading right towards the vampiric elven opponent.
Dante watches Eldritch intently, as he slumps in his stance, holding tight to the hole delved into his chest cavity. The
blood has ceased, strangely enough. The intensity between the two foes is silent, yet deafening to the ears, and slowly a
stream of tension turns to something more. Dante is caught unawares as the emeraldic beam pours forth from his foes orbs.
With most his strength verily spent in the upkeeping of his stature, due to his hurts from before, he hardly has the ability
to move, yet he still attempts the feat. With a thrust to the side, he topples over, but not before the energy beam courses
into his shoulder, tearing his upper bone asunder and leaving his vampiric form to writhe violently upon the path, slowly
being overtaken by his rich, crimson blood. A hand shoots up to grasp the dire wound, and he squeezes hard with his hand,
bitting down upon his lip to imprison a cry of pain. An entire piece of the bone has been taken, disentigrated into nothingness
by the forcefulness of the beam. The rage slowly subsides from Dante's eyes, and they fall into a normal shade, glazed by
upwelling tears, threatening to fall over at the slightest movement. But, there he lies, quiet and battered, his body made
into a pincushion, as well as a target for spells. You see him lying their, rather placid seeming, were it not for the hordes
of blood and gashes rallied upon him.
Dante versus Lalaynea
Dante walks to the middle of the tavern, slippers making little sound as they drop to the wooden floor. He stands for a
bit, peering deep into Lalaynea's eyes and sizing her up, as if she were not a person, but some dirty creature. His red-wine
solored lips pull upwards at the corners, as he begins to smirk, "Be ready." Suddenly Dante is nowhere to be seen, and one
by one every light within the tavern flickers out. There is a cold hiss, which eminates from all corners of the tavern, and
suddenly an explosiong of pure, white aura, which comes from Dante. His white hair billows down to his shoulders and seemt
to form together with the white robe upon his body. In his left hand he holds 'Blackfire', its blade surrounded in a dark
blaze of energies. Throwing up both hands,Dante sends forth an explosion of kenetic energy, rattling the bottles and silver,
yet lifting a few tables from the ground, along with chairs. The items float about in the air, swaying left to right a bit,
then pointing forth a bony, pale finger, Dante sends the things flying towards Lalaynea. As they grow closer to her, he leaps
forward, with a quickness more than that of the flying objects. He quickly passes them, as well as Lalaynea, and as he does
so throws open his huge, black wings. With an updraft, Dante is pulled back, and spins around quickly, propelling at Lalaynea
with the flaming brand, 'Blackfire', held forth; tables and chairs approaching her from the opposite side, in an attempt to
pincer her.
Lalaynea's eyes dart from side to side, her view picking up the onslaught of tables and chairs. She begins to panic as they
approach, her crossbow hangin losely in her hand as she thinks very quickly. Lalaynea waits as they approach, breathing deeply
as she begins to calm herself, her eyes closing. Quickly, she attempts to dodge the chairs and tables, ducking as they near,
her head hit with the corner of a table as it passes over her. Lalaynea cringes as a corner from one of the tables, just grazes
her head, sending her stumbling slightly from the shock. Blood begins to trickle down the wound, her hand lifting to it and
she sighs, relieved that it is not too deep. She blinks and raises to her feet, her head beginning to pound with an excrutiating
pain, travelling throughout her form. She growls quietly to herself as she looks towards the vampire, cursing as her anger
increases. Gripping her bow tightly with her hand, she tilts her head quickly to the side, cracking it as she breathes deeply,
calming herself as her pain becomes unnoticed. Her other hand runs through the tiny river of blood seeping from the wound
on her head. Bringing her hand closer to her lips, she licks it slightly and chuckles at the taste. A low snarl escapes her
lips as her eyes dart upwards to Dante, her bloodied finger running over the tip of an arrow retrieved from her quiver. Pulling
back on the string of her bow, she aims it towards the ceiling, releasing it quickly after. It soars through the air , wind
seeming to whistle at the speed of it. It pierces deep into the ceiling, forcing the onlookers to examine it. As you look
closer, you notice her blood sizzling, the sound of it filling the room as all goes quiet. Steam rises from the tip and before
being able to realize it's effect, the bloodied arrow bursts into flames, directly above Dante, the flames raining down upon
him...
Dante allows a roar of pain to escape his lips, as he flies towards Lalaynea, carrying his flaming brand. The feeling od
sweltering heat sweeps over the mebranes of his wings as they rain from above him, unexpected to him. He falls from his deecent,
crolling about the tavern floor, the stinging flames sizzling on his wings. Climbing to his feet, having missed with his sword
the first time, he decides to try a different approach. His eyes hold tight to Lalaynea's as he walks around her form, heading
behind the bar. As if inspecting for quality, he pulls up different bottles of alcoholic substances and tastes them quickly.
Upon tasting the drink of a brown bottle, he smiles and nods. He turns to Lalaynea and winks. Lightly and without care, he
tosses the bottle into the air before him and rears back 'Blackfire'. With great speed, he sends the weapon forward again,
and catches the bottle in mid-air. Shattering glass rains forth, aimed for Lalaynea, some alight with burning alcohol, all
being followed by a small ball of flames. Laughing, Dante hops atop the bar and drops to one knee. With one hand, he draws
forth a metallica bow. The other hold the blade of 'Blackfire' in front of him. The crossbow is already fitted with one arrow,
which Dante brings to the flames of his brand, bringing the flames upon its obsidian colored tip. Raising the crossbow, he
aims for Lalayne's torso and releases the arrow. The flames of darkness seem to engulf its carrier, with quick speed and gives
it the look of a ghastly apparition of darkness...
Lalaynea cringes as the glass pieces hit her, the flamed ones, burning her skin as it hits. She growls deeply as some remain
in her flesh, just breaking but a few layers of skin. She shakes her head and snarls as a breeze passes through the tavern
door, the slam of the door echoing loudly throughout the room, almost deafening. As the breeze washes over Lalaynea, the burning
sensation dissipates, calming down her pain. She takes in a deep and glances quickly towards her opponent, her eyes diverting
their attention to the dark apparition seeming to head towards her midsection. Coming at an extreme speed, the tip of Dante's
flaming arrow, clangs against the lower half of her breastplate, the strength of the arrow finding a way to pierce through
the metal. Lalaynea winces in pain as the tip barely touches her skin lying beneath the somehow weakened metal. She growls
as she gazes at it, the flames dying quickly from the coldness of the breastplate. Pulling the arrow from her midsection,
a dark, black smoke forms from within the hold in her armor, her skin beneath it slightly charred from the attack. With her
icy eyes narrowed, Lalaynea tosses the arrow to the side, the heat blanketing her hand as it falls to the floor. Growling
once more, Lalaynea stares at Dante, this time remaining rather still. Tuning out all surrounding noise, Lalaynea concentrate
and calmly places her crossbow, by her feet, standing again afterwards. Sighing as she continues to think deeply, her eyes
shut, shutting out almost everything, leaving nothing to her attention other than her opponent. The silence fills the room
once again, quickly broken by a faint grinding sound. You look to Lalaynea for a moment in though, soon realizing the sound
is coming directly from her. Lalaynea continues to grind her teeth, the sound seeming to resonate off the tavern walls, but
oddly enough, it seems as though Dante is the only one able to notice. She continues grinding, the sound increasing and filling
Dante's head. With a slight grin appearing across her features, Lalaynea tilts her head in curiosity as she watches Dante.
Soon, Dante begins to feel his skull vibrate as it appears the sound has travelled from Lalaynea's mouth to Dante's head...
Dante screams out in agonizing annoyance, as he brings his palms against the sides of his head, sword still stuck into
the bartops wooden surface. His body begins to cunvulse in fits as the screaming within his mind grows and forces him to fall
over, dropping to the tavern floor, screaming for the noisese to leave him. His palms slam hard against the tavern floor and
his elongated nails begin to scratch deep into the floor, tearing up small pieces of wood, some of its splinters getting beneath
his crimson colored nails and sending out trickles of thick, warm blood. One drop of blood, strangely enough of charcoal look,
not red, begins to roll across the tavern floor, stopping within the corner of the tavern, bathed in the shadows. Hissing
sounds begin to ring out from every shadows of the tavern, and howls of wolves ring from the forests out side. An inburst
of energy, from somewhere outside, sends the tavern door flying from its hinges and sliding across the floor, stopping near
Dante, who has seemingly passed out from the screaming within his mind. Slowly, and huges beasts of pure obsidian color stalk
into the tavern, growling deeply. Crimson orbs are set deep in the sockets of their eyes, and none of them ever leave Lalaynea.
Each shadow-beast has the form of a huge panther, its body rippling with muscles of darkness. The area all about them seems
to be unscathed by the light, and as more enter, so does the rest of the tavern. More creatures emerge from the corners, and
begin to slide across the floor, in forms of snakes. Each slithers about the body of the panthers and turns their eyes upon
Lalaynea as well. There is a loud sound as 'Blackfire' begins to shake with violent quakes, which send vibration about the
tavern. As if a que to go, the beats all leap at Lalaynea, snapping with magical jaws, rowed with razor teeth and darkness.
The serpents seem to shoot forth, extending fangs at Lalaynea's throat, all secreting a foul liquid that seems to melt through
the tavern wood as it drops to the floor from the mouths of some creatures.
Lalaynea snarls deeply in the direction of Dante, her cold eyes piercing through his vampiric form. Darting back and forth
between the onslaught of serpents and other foul creatures, her eyes watch closely as some sense of panic sets in. Thinking
quickly, Lalaynea drops to the floor, keeping off of her knees as she grabs her crossbow tightly within her palm. The smooth
metal cools against her skin; a somewhat calming sensation flowing throughout her human form. With but seconds left to move,
Lalaynea jumps up in an upright position, her eyes focusing clearly upon the fanged beasts. Quickly, she jumps up onto the
bar, inaudible words seeping through her lips as she whispers silently to herself, her eyes shut in deep meditation as she
lands on the bar. Turning around, her eyes open slowly as she releases a low hiss...strange coming from a "simple" human.
The illusion before her dissipates into a thick cloud of grey smoke, only the sounds of the creatures to be left. Once again,
Lalaynea retrieves an arrow from her quiver, this one seeming somewhat different than the others. Pulling back the same as
before, she aims directly towards Dante's head. She chuckles softly as her arms quickly lift it upwards, aiming for the ceiling
yet again, this time releasing the silver tipped arrow slowly. Landing within one of the rafters, watching eyes dart up to
examine again, waiting for the flames. You ponder a thought as you continue watching, nothing seeming to occur. Lalaynea remains
quiet as another arrow is pulled frmo her quiver, a grim smile blanketing her features as she realizes the distraction will
only hold for so long. Quickly and without thinking twice, Lalaynea releases this arrow, the arrow flying through the air
at an even faster rate than what would be normal for a simple arrow. The silver tip of the arrow glitters as it soars towards
Dante. She laughs, breaking the distraction, other eyes focusing more on the arrow head towards Dante's throat. As you look
closer upong the silver tip of this arrow, you notice it melting, the air screaming as it leaps to his throat, crying out
for vampiric blood...
Dante shivers, as the air chills around him. His head bobs to the left and his lids slide open slowly, the emerald glow
within them visible to all. Quickly his look changes, from one of awakening to horror, upon spying the flying arrow. Too close
to stop it, Dante simply tenses his vampiric muscles, and bites hard upon his crimson lip as the arrow tears deep into his
undead flesh, sending forth a shower of blood, which douses everything in the tavern. Pulling apart his lips, he lets a sigh
escape, which is quieted by the blood that pours out from his mouth. The gurgling of the blood is sickening, and the sight
of it as it pours to the floor is worse. A shriek enters the tavern, from whereabouts unknown, and the blood flowing from
Dante halts. A crimson film begins to envelope his body and pulsates with a blinding light. With a sudden jolt, his body is
pulled to its feet and his head hangs, lulled downward in an awkward position. The crimson aura slowly starts to fade, and
just as it disappears, every corner of the tavern is illuminated with a pearly light, streaming from the fold of Dante's robe,
his gleaming circlet and his flowing hair. His eyes raise from the state of death, which he seemed afflicted with, only a
minute before. With a thunderous clap, his huge, charcoal, membranous wings snap open, releasing an aura as dark as the first
was white. His wings refold, and his kingly look fades, as he blinks about the tavern. A smirk forms upon his pale face and
he strides to Lalaynea, and kisses her, to everyones surprise. Pulling back, he drops tiredly back into an empty seat, exhausted.
Dante versus Talaryan
Dante's blood boils up in a billigerent mannering, and burns a course through it's roadway of veins, as confounding aspects
of power begin to slip from their confining prison, escaping from every pore. A voice carried in the unseen arms of the wind
bellows out a soft, melancholy introit. Goaded on by idolistic invocation, and a voracious lust for indicting pain to his
enemy, Dante readies himself for battle. Grotesquely thin, and pallid fingers that appear like phantoms from the shadows of
the robe, spin like serpents upon the blade hilt. In full contriction of Dante's hand, the sword is ripped from it's sheath.
Flurries of air, perhaps the breath of the blade as it slides against it's metallic bindings, kick the extended tendrils of
Dante's opalescent hair, and toss it back beyond his shoulders, revealing a grim-faced demon in his entirety. A thin veil
of golden dust, removed from the sheath when the sword was drawn, circulates about the body of the weapon, shimmering in a
faint glow cast out by Dante's body. Holding the brand outward, Dante blows forth a heavy breath, immediatly igniting the
golden dust into a sulfurous fire. A great hail of the flames spirals forward in an assault upon Talaryn. Just as the pyre
comes before the draconian warrior it explodes in a magnificant napalm effect. Dante himself leaps high into the air, escaping
the raging inferno, yet still adding more devestation. Huge flurries of light sprinkle down beneath Dante, approaching Talaryn
like snowflakes drifting with the guidance of the wind. Every light bursts with a bomb-like effect, tearing away at the land,
and hopefully at Talaryn...
Talaryn narrows the thin, obsidian brows that roof his glimmering eyes as he watches on readily at Dante’s flourished
introduction, pressing the toe of his boot into the dirt of the arena and creating a slight impression upon the soft, arena
terrain as he shifts his weight forward. As the first sparks flicker into existence from out of nowhere about the girth of
his opponent’s blade, the youthful draconian unleashes a deafening roar that sends shivers throughout the foundations
of the earth as it flows out from the cavern of his barrel-chest. A swift, unseen motion of the warrior’s hand occurs
and magnificent channel of chromatic luminescence rips through the pale flesh of his palm, creating a haze of color before
you as it disturbs the air and creates ripples in its wake. The great, swirling current of magical energy surges towards Dante
in his leveraged point and threatens to run completely through him, ending his life if it makes contact, no doubt. Just as
his foe’s barrage of fire nears, Talaryn leaps backwards and cuts off the stream of power from his held out appendage,
his garments blackening and becoming slightly singed as the flames grow in proximity. Within no time at all, he is completely
engulfed in a painful, orange glow, his screams resounding with agony and reverberating from wall to wall. In desperation,
the draconic prince falls to the dusty canvas and begins to roll about, successfully extinguishing the flames and ceasing
all motion; lying as if lifeless upon the ground as long, winding columns of smoke rise off from his burnt, and stinking form.
Suddenly, the blackened warrior jumps to his feet, and shakes off his entire frame, laughing in a crazed manner as a collection
of ashes and soot sprinkle from his armor and settle to the floor around him. As his sickeningly, brownish lips curl into
a pernicious snarl, Talaryn allows his dimmed, forestry orbs to trail up to where Dante floated just recently. Awkwardly,
he falls to his knees and begins crushing his fist upon the floor, repeating this motion even when the knuckles split and
give way to oozing amounts of blood.
Dante wraps his thin, spidery fingers tight around the small vastness of his weapon, and calls out in a high-pitched cry
of laughter, as the chromatic sphere gitters upward towards him. Holding the silver, polished brand, and suspending it high
in the air, he moves with vampiric tenacity and speed, plunging the weapon into the magical initiation. The powerful magic
simply gives way, and splits around the sharpened edge of his great knife. From high above comes a great cry, as the light
reforms upon the opposite side of the blade, totally engulfing Dante's body. There is a great inplosion of power, and when
the blinding light evanesces Dante can be seen, sword slipping from his weakened hands. Little by little the sword drops,
until plunging into the earth. As the blade burrows into the ground there is a rumbling, followed by an explosion of energy,
and suddenly the world is torn asunder. Islands move up from the wreckage, gravitating into the air. Turning to the heavens,
Dante begins a resonating, and boggling incantation. Darkness becomes the sky, and sight fades. Suddenly a lightning bolt
pierces the darkness, giving sight to the sphere of night in which you are encompassed. You are in, by some strange will,
the fabled 'Void'. With a snap of his fingers, Dante takes control of the enveloping storm, bringing a barrage of lightning
aimed at Talaryn and his isle. Other islands that enter the path of the elctricity crumbles under the might, and it's shards
are shot downward at the same velocity towards the dragon, Talaryn.
Talaryn continues to beat his broken fist upon the surface of his levitating isle of dirt and rock. Seemingly oblivious to
the chaotic weather that surrounds him, his glazed, emerald hues remain fixated on a specific point on the ground that has
begun to crack little by little under the stupendous weight and force of his continually rising and falling hand. Suddenly,
the maddened draconian springs into reality with a viscous shout, rising to his feet swiftly and turning around completely
to face the oncoming onslaught of bellicose bolts and shards of electricity. Almost mechanically, his hand shoots downward
and takes hold of the silvery hilt that protrudes from a bejeweled scabbard at his side. Slender digits wrap about the girth
of the handle and pull it upward fiercely, creating a screeching hiss that roars like a serpentine diety and ceases into eerie
silence. Even the raging noises of the thunderstorm fade into silence as the hell-forged weapon his held outward, instantly
encumbered in smoldering, life-like shadows. With a quick flicker of Talaryn’s wrist, the blade sweeps in a wide arc,
seemingly diverting the course of a great multitude of Dante’s incandescent projectiles and sending them directly back
into the direction of their conjurer. As the reflected bolts make contact with their followers, a great midair clash takes
place, raining the blackened arena’s footing with an array of sparks and creating a jumbling mass of virulent forces
that remain enclosed in one space. Talaryn grins wickedly at the spectacle of his own creation and takes flight from his crumbling
island. On the wings of darkness, the young warrior nears his opponent, going clear over his field of static energy before
rushing with rapid celerity at the vampire. An army of fire miraculously unfolds behind him and follows him like a wave as
he approaches his mark, lunging his blade forward so that it might impale the one who challenged him. As he makes his move,
the wave of fire seems to pass him by and grows imminet to swallowing Dante whole.
Dante growls at his dragon warrior's immortal pertinacity. Eyes of emerald that go deep, holding arcane and antiquious
secrets, leer with a molten heat upon their approaching foe. Talaryn's descent is all taken into account, and Dante cants
his head to the side. An uproarous tulmult overtakes all, as many loose islands begins to shift their positioning. The earthen
weapons move with swift speed, fencing around Dante's levitating precipice. Surrounded by an army of rock, and debris, Dante
is lost from sight. Buckling as at Talaryn's approach, the rocks are easily decimated and resorted to dust, but hidden beyond
them is not what was. A floating squadron of sharp sicles rests readily beyond the barrier, awaiting the oncoming draconian.
Suddenly, stricken by lethargy, Dante's body drops from behind the trap of jutting glaciers, and freefalls downward, plunging
headfirst into the sea of darkness. Talaryn's flames easily abolish the frozen spikes, but Dante is nowhere within view. Two
waves come from the surrounding orb of darkness, moving outward from the southern most and northern most points, until coming
to collide upon the equator. As the darkness breaks upon itself, it tears inward, drowning the floating world with it's obsidian
night. Suddenly a light appears, and Dante's form can be made out. A hand raises towards Talaryn and quick drain results.
From 'Talaryn's Requiem' comes the shriek, as of death, and disdain. Flames rush like to Dante's appear swallowed in Dante's
hand, in a maddening rush, as of the soul in it's decent to Hades. The flames contort and reshape in his hand, extending into
a long blade. "Blackfyre' and 'The Sword of Shadows have been torn. Dante's body begins to convulse greatly as the surge of
purely dark energy washes over him. Then, opening his great wings, he streaks forth, brandishing the flaming tip of his weapon
towards the carapace of his enemy.
Talaryn roars in indignation as his weapon his apparently reduced to its former self, still immense in power yet deprived
of the dark energy that was given off from the legendary sword, ‘Blackfyre’. Glistening, viridian hues flicker
about in their sockets and finally lock over the shadowy frame of the ‘Sword of Shadows’, the blade formed of
his father’s power. Suddenly, the young wielder of such a power comes to his senses just in time to lift his own brand
in parrying defense of Dante’s oncoming assault. The length of his own brand wails out with a cascade of colossal sound
as the two weapons crash upon one another for the second time, scorching the sky with smoke and fire as intricate majiks weave
out from their majestic forms and intertwine in starbursts of color. With an explosion, Talaryn’s weapon is surprisingly
overcome and he is sent hurling backward under the weight of the eruption. His limp body coalesces lifelessly as it plummets
downward, a scream rising up from the depths before the draconian disappear completely. Suddenly, an annoying calm returns
to the scene and the visual surroundings of the former arena return. All is as it was before the skirmish began and no sign
of the vanished warrior can be found. Without warning, however, the sky is illuminated by a great crimson glow and as if giving
way for the heavens, every cloud above parts in a column. A beam of light shines down from the opening and creates a spotlight
effect just before Dante. With mind-numbing speed, Talaryn descends from the sky and lands soundless upon his feet, his complexion
light, and iridescent; his garments purely white and silken. Two spoken words come off of Talaryn’s slightly parted,
vermilion lips before he thrusts his hand out and summons a intense burst of brilliant white light that blasts out of his
palm and threatens to pummel Dante at short range, “Fare well”
Dante scrys for Talaryn, with agonizing disappointment. White robes shudder in a windless world, a world where night is
everlong. Even Dante seems languorous, as even he has a limit to his power. "The Void's" boundaries seem to grow weak, and
begin to regress. Both warrior's within the charnel land are removed back to their prevalent world, though Talaryn is nowhere
to be seen. The sounds of Cenril sea, off to the east, enter earshot. Gulls caw vociferously, and it seems that all is well
and natural. All islands have dispersed, and the arena grounds are anew. A moon abover hearkens to Dante's hurts and pains,
as it phosphoresces it's wanton light down upon the malignant spirit, Dante. There is a concentration tearing disquiet, and
all eyes move sykward, catching upon a blurry, pallid arrow of light. The streaking opalescence emanates with a force greater
than that of the moon, but Dante simply tugs at the edges of his blood-tinted lips, stretching them into a smile. Two wings,
each of gigantic size, and a great, stretching length, snap outward from the back of the vampiric thief. Lively strands of
hair are tossed out in all directions, as they mirror Dante's movement of limbs. Already the light of power had been ushered
from the young wyrm, but at sight Dante could not be seen ready to initiate protection. The luminous glow of the magic seems
to suddenly grow dull, and bland, but it's speed does not slow, and it rips through Dante's open abdomen, as flames would
through a sheet of ice. Everything stands motionless, as blood begins to steam from the chasm forced into Dante's chest. A
batch of convulsions overtake Dante, and he falls forward, his light dying and becoming no light at all, save the beaming
rays of the moon bounced from the surface of the crimson lake that pools beneath him. There he lays, all his being drenched
in steaming, wet blood...
Asmodian versus Dante
Asmodian's pale face twists into a hideous smile as he stretches his pale, bony body, several cracks ringing out on the still
air and breaking the oppressive silence. Crimson eyes blazing wildly with a passion to kill borne deep within his corrupted
soul, the Dark Knight lifts both rag-covered hands skyward with a look of expectation plastered across his mirth-filled visage.
A slight wind picks up and begins to blow a thin, dusty haze across the arena, grains of sand dancing along with an aerial
grace; in tune to an unheard melody. Picking up in force and emitting an eerie wail, the breeze whistles around and about
Asmodian, causing his tattered clothing to flutter out in an indignant protest at being disturbed. Suddenly the filthy coverings
encasing his body begin to catch flame, blue in its colouring and sensuous in the way it moves. Turning the tarnished cloth
to ash and revealing beneath it a black and silver suit of plate mail, intricately designed and imprined with archaic glyphes,
the fiery cascade of azure vanishes just as unexpectedly as it appeared. His face now split in a broad show of delight, twisting
the man's features with its lack of familiarity to the terrain, Asmodian lowers a gauntleted hand to his side where a black,
leather-bound hilt awaits. Wrapping his armoured fingers firmly about the handle and tugging sharply, his actions smooth and
experienced, the Dark Knight unveils a long, glimmering warblade. With a smart, practiced salute and the grace of a dancer
he suddenly charges, bearing down on Dante with fluid-like steps. Weapon held high over his right shoulder, the long razor-sharp
blade sparkling brightly as it catches and reflects the sun's golden rays, the warrior glides at his adversary...swinging
the sword in a wide, brilliantly shimmering arc and channeling at the last second, a spray of fine golden dust assaulting
Dante's vision, Asmodian strives with all of his dark will to put an end to his opponent...
Dante readies his thin body, every muscel, tightened and tensed for the quickest movement. Murky eyes, swarthed in a veil
of perfect greenery, flicker slightly as Asmodian approaches Dante's motionless form. Never looking from their enemy, Dante's
eyes seem to speak out towards the Knight of darkness, as if to provoke his onslaught and fury. Eerily, it seems as if all
wind stops, as Asmodian closes in upon Dante and the golden dust bellows forth towards his calm gaze. As the first shimmering
flake of gold reaches his pupil, the vampires eyes drop shut, falling with the quickness of a rock from the sky. A horrible
'snap' sounds out; Dante's wings srping open, eminating a blackened aura that mingles with his holy one, forming a billowing
cascade of energies just as the beings sword approaches. Swinging both, powerful wings forwards in a flurry of coal like coloration,
the vamppiric body is thrust backwards, just in time to only catch the tip of the blade against his robe. Swarming clouds
of dust leap from the Arena ground, at each flap of the gigantic, charcoal wings. Pale rays of moonlight cast themselves down
from above, as Dante rises above the terracing seats of the Arena, and hold himself in mid-air. The light of the moon glows
through his thin, membranous wings and its light grows deeper as it cats itself towards Asmodian. Suddenly, the cut in his
white robe begins to shien brightly as well. and two, gossamer balls float outward. They dance beautifully about Dante's body,
summoning up immense powers from his body, until they overflow with the energies and it tears through them, raining down from
above in a fiery darkness towards Asmodian.
Asmodian snarls at the near miss and dodges to the side in expectation of a counter-blow from his crafty, vampiric adversary.
Caught unawares by Dante's maneuver and the sudden rain of energy, his eyes flash a deep scarlet and his body prepares in
expectation of the imminant pain. As the first searing droplet burns deep into his body, parting both armour and flesh as
a hot knife would butter, the Master of the Void shudders and points his silver blade skyward in an angry jesture as he summons
the elemants to do his will. Aerial chords begin to whip about chaotically near the winged-warrior, forming a raging maelstrom
of wind about Dante and threatening to bear him down to the ground in their fury as they send the scalding downpour careening
out of the colloseum.Seeing his first spell in action seems to bring a renewed strength to Asmodian as he snarls hoarsley
and channels at the rough unkept arena floor, drawing deep from the stores of power hidden within his twisted,evil body. His
mind bent on the task at hand, perspiration begins to bead upon the Knight's furrowed brow as he orchestrates his corrupted
spell, determined in his aggravation to put an end to his stubborn foe. Suddenly twin massive golems rise up from the sand
between the two combatants and begin to advance on Dante with a speed surprising of their massive frames. Composed of minute
fragments of rock and dirt, dark energy snaking about their large torsos periodically, the leviathans move at their target
from two different directions...mindless weapons driven on my a dark will to destroy its foe, longing to fullfill their mission
with every fiber of their being and swinging their dangerous arms high into the clear, blue sky in preperation of doing so...
Dante wavers slightly as the downpour beats hard upon his fragile membranes and drags him down slightly with the sheer
weight. Focusing his powers, he draws upon the force of gravity and balances his body in midair, while pulling his deep, black
wings in upon his back, each folding closed easily and quickly. Floating high above the earth, much like a bird soars in the
sunlit sky, Dante begins to study his opponent, knowing this is no mere warrior but a true advesary, worthy of the mystical
powers of Sirfer, those of darkness and light combined. His eyes grow wide as the powerful magics of Asmodian draw forth upon
the earth, calling forth two massive gargants which seem to be thristy for flowing blood, his fleshy sinew and hardened bones.
Tossing back his head, pulling with it, long strands of flowing, white hair that moves like fields in the wind, or rushing
water, fluidly swinging. Each strand aligns itself with Dante's back and touches the very small of his back. Dante thrusts
forth a hand towards one of the massives golems, pushing himself back a ways and blasting force a powerful beam of darkness,
which tears through the magical beast and implants itself inside its huge body. With a simple snap of his fingers, the darkness
erupts, blasting from its new gost and pulling it apart from the inside. A sneer finds its way to Dante's pale face, and aims
towards Asmodian, as his first golem crumbles. In his smugness, Dante is brought back to reality with a sickening crack, as
the second magical creatures fist slams into his body and sends him sprawling to the ground. Dust streams up from where Dante
lands and nothing is easily visible. Suddenly, all is clear once more, as a gust moves in from the Cenril Sea. The vampire
stands, robe tainted form the dusty ground and one arm hanging awkwardly at his side. With a lament from his hurt, Dante screeches
forth towards the golem, and seems to disappear. When he reforms, he is on the opposite side of the golem, just as the massive
beast crumbles to the Arena ground. Having dealt with the first threat, Dante returns his attention to Asmodian, snapping
his fingers and calling out a huge vortex of flames that leaps high into the sky, splitting the storming clouds above before
dropping back to earth before Asmodian and breaking upon it in a fury of heat.
Asmodian takes a slow step back, hints of fear written across the pale pages of his usually sneering face, as he takes in
the roaring inferno before him. Armour heating up to an unbearable degree, the scent of burning flesh can be felt in the air
as the Dark Knight screams out in pain. Pawing at his intricately designed breastplate in an undignified manner Asmodian swings
his sword at the spiral of flames bearing down upon him and channels maddly, various elements and spells hurtling wildly through
the air in an attempt to dispell the deadly pillar, seeming only pebbels cast into an infinite sea of flames. Pummeling their
summoner from time to time and becoming incinerated by the dancing wall of heat, enchantments cycle through until a suitable
one is finally cast, a rift oppening up with an unknown destination and drawing the fiery tornadoe into it. Breathing heavily,
his form adopting a weary pose, the Master of the Void sags slightly and prepares his counter attack, a determined gleam in
his crimson eyes despite the grim situation.Parting his pale, drawn lips in a silent archaic utterance, every vestige of Asmodian's
power bends itself upon the spell at hand. Thin streaks of black begin to materialize about his sword's silvery length, seeming
to tarnish the glimmering beauty of the weapon and lending it a more sinister appearance. Pulsating with power and ever twisting
as if in pain, the shreds of void fully encase the once gleaming blade and settle...the preperations having been completed.
Lifting the sword of darkness high over his head, gauntleted hand straining with the power raging within the weapon that it
now holds, the Dark Knight whispers "Master of all swords, Night sword, I bring you an offering...". As the last spidery word
dies down on the silent, ever chilling air all light in the arena begins to dim, the heavans themselves veiling their face
from what is to happen below. Visibility dying down, a thick blanket of oppresive darkness settles over the landscape, an
almost tangible veil of evil hanging heavily in the air. Suddenly a banshee-like wail pierces the malicious gloom and the
night all about Dante converges on him, beginning to crush his body and to suffocate him...eternal darkness, eternal void
striving to fullfill its master's bidding...
Dante wisens up as a toic look spreads over his skin, its color that of one unscathed by sun. Emerald gleams can be seen
deep in his elderly and knowledgable eyes, and the blood of innocents tainting his beautiful fangs and reddened lips. He stares
on in anticipation the blackness closes in upon him. Every breath seems to send a jolt of excitment flaring into his perfectly
colored eyes. Just as the air about him begins to affixiate him, Dante slides his hand down to the gem encrusted hilt of his
own sword. The gems begin to pulsate with the light of their coloration, and the pulsation turn to unnoticable flashes of
blinding rays. With an upward motion of his good hand, he draws up 'Blackfire', the sword reforged, the sword whos flames
mingled with those of hell, taken from the darkened scythe of one of the most malicious beings in all the lands, Solaris.
As the choking darkness reaches the blade it seems to halt, as if pondering this new turn of power and assault. In a huge
blast the black flames shoot up the shaft of 'Blackfire' and engulf the entire weapon, as well as the unnoticing hand of Dante.
The flames ravage tha blade, and lunge out wickedly at the air about them, warding the choking powers of blackness with its
own black arts. One part of the flame drips from the sword, much like a muddied drop of water or perhaps of particularly darkened
blood. The droplet falls from the rest of its fiery body and splashes upon Dante's foot in a burst of energy. The flame leaps
up, covering every aspect of the vampire and rising high as the Xalious mountains themselves. A rumbling can be heard from
the south and your eyes look on in horror as a spiral of more blackened flames sprouts high into the air and flies towards
Dante's, mixing with it and bringing his own inferno ever higher. The sky bursts alite with the hell flames that lick out
at it evilly. The base of the rage is not visible, and somewhere within it, Dante draws upon the darkness. Suddenly, his wings
shoot on, knocking huge sparks out in all directions. The flames give his wings a look of hate, though you cannot tell why.
The huge wave of hell-flames moves to his wings only, and blazes high into the air. A loud scream splits from Dante's mouth
as he calls out the name of one of hit most devestating attacks, "Burning Raven!" With a demivolt into the air, he blares
towards Asmodian, 'Blackfire' cutting a deep valley into the ground as he flies forward. The chasm gushes open, as he pulls
up just before Asmodian, the ground still splitting past the Dark Knight; the ground pulling from beneath his feet. As Dante
reaches high into the black sky, he turns downward and screams down upon Asmodian in a huge ball of flames, 'Blackfire' held
downward, towards the deep cavern below his enemy.
Asmodian stands unnervingly motionless, his reverbrating sword still held up high as if a pendant heralding the victory of
darkness. Crimson eyes taking in the chaos about him, the Dark Knight's corrupted soul rejoices silently at the destruction
as his dark mind bends itself upon his next action. Lowering his free hand down to his armoured side Asmodian moves back a
tattered fringe of his voluminous cloak and reveals the hilt of another sword, the pommel encrusted with runes and glowing
brightly in response to the events around it. With a sudden silvery ring, the sword is drawn forth from its dark confines
and its presence is made known, a brightly shimmering 'Runeblade' held forth in the warrior's firm grip. The sword of hope
bent to the knee of darkness and forced to serve it, the weapon lets out a mournfull wail and begins to radiate a soft golden
light...a cry for help, a cry for freedom. Flashing gleefully, the Knight's eyes take on a maddened sheen as he lifts up the
holy blade and places it upon his voided one, a dazzling explosion of energy searing through the air as the powers of light
and darkness collide. Struggling against one another, twisting and churning in a wild attempt at dominance, pitch black and
snow white threads begin to move out from the crossed weapons and encase their wielder in a large, crystalline bubble. Sizzling
angrilly whenever a stray ball of flame collides against it, the shield grows ever stronger as Dante races toward it; its
transparent walls, though etheral in appearance, becoming an impenetrable veil of clashing energies. Everything growing silent
suddenly, Dante's weapon meets the orb's wall and sinks into it with a glass-like shattering sound. Penetrating deep into
the pulsating energy, the weapon is met with the resistance of chaotic energy every inch of the way...finally coming to a
halt, up to its hilt in the protective shield and with its sharp tip drawing a thin trickle of blood on Asmodian's tired face,
the blade signals the end of the battle....
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