by Kindred Ult
"My life is not worth saving, and least of all by becoming like you." He said as he set his jaw against the pain and tried to think of a way to kill the demon before him. 'There is only one way, and that is to die.' He knew that his words were truth, and yet he embraced them. 'Yes, that is the only way, so be it.'
With a yell, he pivoted forward and threw his spear as hard as he could straight at Stragath. The demon had expected nothing, and he could only put up his arms in defense of his face and grunt as the shaft stuck into his stomach. He pulled it out and threw it away, but then Demenn was right there with his sword. He swung it with supernatural speed, and it was all Stragath could do to shift his body to the side and avoid the slash.
Just as fast, Demenn took a step forward and swung from the other side, and Stragath had to throw himself to the side once again in order to keep himself from being disemboweled. He took the opportunity to lash out his tail and slam it into Demenn's side. He could see one of the spikes through the hole already left in Demenn, but Demenn did not stop. He ran forward and kept swinging. His attacks were so fast and numerous that, to Stragath, the sword looked only like a flash, and he had to keep stepping, shifting, and leaping back in order to stay alive. About every other time he dodged, he would counter attack, but no matter how much he stabbed Demenn through, he never stopped.
"Do not be a fool Demenn." Stragath panted while frantically dodging out of the way of more slashes. "You'll die if you keep this up."
"I do not care, as long as I can take you to Hell with me." Demenn growled through his seemingly endless assault, and his constant steps and slashes backed up his words.
Then, for a reason Stragath did not understand, Demenn's sword passed into his stomach, and blood came away with it when he finished the swing. It was only a scratch, but the next one was deeper, and Stragath's eyes widened with the idea that he might actually die then and there. The next one made it all the way through the skin and even cut a little into the muscle, and at that moment Stragath swore that he saw a dark cowled figure behind Demenn. It looked at him from under its hood with glowing eyes, and then it was gone, and Stragath's own eyes widened in fear. The next slash cut through his abdominal muscles, and he realized that if he did not do something, he would be dead before Demenn bled out. The thought put him into a panic like he had never known, and instinctively his wings began to form behind his back. Just as they finished, Demenn's sword cut through his muscles and started to make its way into his stomach cavity.
The pain and fear that boiled inside Stragath made him do what he would not normally have. He turned his back on his enemy and leapt into the air, beating his wings frantically. Even as he got into the air, however, and thought he would live, he felt a sharp pain in his thigh, and he was bogged down by a weight. When he looked down, he saw Demenn holding onto a long knife which he had stuck into his thigh. Seeing him there, after just believing himself to be safe, made Stragath snap. He screamed unintelligibly and begin to shake his leg and kick with his other while slapping his tail back and forth in an attempt to dislodge his pursuer.
His panic-driven attacks backfired, however, as Demenn let go of the knife, grabbed onto one of his ankles, and, when he recoiled, used it as a spring to throw himself upward. For one strange moment, Demenn hung in midair, barely passing by Stragath's swinging tail, and almost seemed to be falling away and behind him, but then he landed on Stragath's back, pulled his boot knife out, yanked Stragath's head back by the horn, and slit his throat.
"N-No!" Stragath gurgled, as he felt the wetness of his own blood as it ran down his chest. Then he lost all connection to the world, and his wings ceased to beat. The two of them began to plummet to the ground, and Demenn passed out from blood loss. It was good for him that he did, too, since he would not have liked the landing.
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Varus saw Demenn fall, but he was in no position to do anything about it, had he been inclined to save him. At the moment, he was locked in a battle that could claim his life at any moment. He was in his Other form, and had cast his shield to the side, as it was too small for him, but kept his sword with him. It had never been a longsword, and now it was more like a long knife in his hand. Luckily, he knew how to fight with a knife, as any self-respecting bandit would. Even with his knife fighting abilities, though, he had only gotten in a few attacks since the fight had started, and those that wounded the first class werewolf he battled were superficial.
He realized now, as they fought back and forth, her with her claws and he with his knife, that he should have saved his Other form for when he could have used it to its greatest advantage. He had started off with it thinking that it would surprise his opponent, and it had, but that had been worth about one strike, and had been his only good one of the battle. Even now her snout was matted with the blood from the line on it where he had grazed her. Still, from then on she was completely on her guard, and her hand-to-hand skills were quite impressive. She must have known some kind of martial art, or something, because she had not closed her fists since the beginning of the fight.
Still, Varus was glad that the fight was still relatively even, and the bruises he had were equaled by her cuts. 'I just hope she doesn't find out,' He thought desperately as he lunged forward again. He led with a stab with his right hand, but anticipated her turning his arm aside with her hand, and followed with a kick to her chest. She caught the side of his ankle with her other hand and spun her body out of the way while moving his kick away from her. Before he could even finish the kick, she was behind him, and stabbed him twice with her claws then chopped him once with her open hand. He swiftly slashed his knife towards her while pivoting his upper body towards her, and snapped his wing into her face just as she was about to block it. As it was, he scored another small gash across her ribs.
He felt the grate of metal on bone, and saw her grimace with it as well. She let one foot leave the ground as she round kicked him with all of the force of a falling tree. Had he tried to block it, his forearms would have lost their feeling, but he had figured out by now to not get hit by those. He ducked down, and was even able to lightly slash the bottom of her leg. Unfortunately, he was still ducked when her foot touched ground and she sent it immediately back in a side kick that caught him in the ribs and sent him flying back. He caught himself with his wings and sent himself back forward again. When he was within range, she sent out another side kick to use his momentum against him and stop him, but he was able to turn his wings around and send himself backwards before heading forward again.
He was inside her guard, and his knife was headed straight towards her heart. He even thought that it would make it, but then her arm was in the way, and in the end his blade was sent upwards. He did manage a nice gash on her forearm, but after that she grabbed his arm with hers, pulled him close, and then slammed her elbow into his face, raked her claws across his chest, and finally pulled him down and kneed him in the face. She kept hold of him, and began throwing knee after knee into him. Each blow felt like a hammer was being slammed into him, but Varus had been waiting for an opportunity like this.
He had noticed, in his fighting, that werewolves in general, but most especially, first class werewolves, had a kind of disregard of being hit. Unless they perceived the weapon as being able to kill them, like Wolfsbane, they would allow themselves to be attacked basically anywhere they would not be killed in. Their healing factor would save them from basically any wound, unless it was one that could kill them instantly, and they had come to depend on it. Because of their healing factor, they fought with abandon. They scarcely cared if they were slashed or stabbed, as long as they could destroy their opponent, little scratches were nothing.
Even this one, with her careful fighting style, allowed herself to be attacked far more than any normal warrior would, and Varus had not let that fact escape. He even spared himself a smile, as her knees smashed his face, and he could not help but chuckle as he raise
d his knife and plunged it into her side. He was not able to reach her heart, but he was able to get to the side and in between her ribs. He had missed the lungs, but that had been enough, and then he stabbed her in the leg and pushed as hard as he could so that he could get away. When they disengaged, he smiled at her face, which betrayed nothing. 'She doesn't know.'
She charged forward, but then faltered, and began to hold her side. When she brought her hand away from the wound she found new blood, not caked blood from a healed wound, but newly lost blood. Just then, she looked over her body and realized that every wound Varus had given her was still bleeding, and that her high tolerance for pain had blinded her to that fact. She stared at his sword, and saw that it was only silver, which should not be able to retard her healing factor in this form. He saw her unbelieving face, and spared her just a small explanation.
"If you were a vampire, you'd be dead already, and you would have noticed from the first slash, but it seems that holy water doesn't make werewolves disintegrate, it just retards your healing process, no matter how powerful you are."
"Bastard!" Despite all of her mental conditioning, Lupin felt her anger overflowing and blowing past all of her carefully-erected barriers. She felt white rage at this sneaky vampire, who was an accomplice to those others, overcome all of her senses, and in another moment, she went feral. She let out a roar as her physique was bolstered and her eyes went completely black. She crouched for a moment and sprang at Varus, who simply stuck his knife out and let her impale herself on it. She survived long enough to slash him once more on the chest, but then the light left her eyes, and she was dead.
Varus pushed her off of him, rolled her over, reverted to his normal form, pulled out her heart, and paused a moment before finally consuming it. He felt his wounds close, and felt his perception of the world around him change ever so slightly, like when one wears shaded glasses and then takes them off. He knew the changes his body was going through, and also knew that now he was at the top. For a moment he thought of finding Demenn and either rescuing him or killing him, but then he shrugged.
"Ah, he can take care of himself." He then picked up his shield and ran back into the fighting.
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"Now you die!" Blood roared as he drew his gigantic two-handed sword from its sheath and charged at Triplecorpse with it held high above his head. Triplecorpse made no reply, save to hold his hammer ready and to deepen his stance a fraction. When he reached him, Blood released one final mighty roar and swung his sword down with all of his might. Triplecorpse responded by swinging his hammer underhanded straight up. When the head of his hammer clashed with the blade of Blood's sword, there was a resounding crash, and a wave of energy flowed from the connection between the two weapons. Blood pulled away and swung from the right side, and his sword seemed to slice through the air itself in its transit, but it was stopped prematurely by Triplecorpe's hammer once again when he swung from the opposite side.
They just kept swinging at one another, in a bid to overcome the other. They cared nothing for finesse, speed, or skill, but placed all of their attention on pure, unadulterated strength. Any of their blows could have shattered stones, but on and on they fought, with neither stepping back or ever faltering. Power flowed from every clash between their mighty weapons, and the waves of it filled the area around them, charging the combatants to fight to new heights of violence. Even though they battled with unimaginable power, and their muscles strained and bulged with every hit, it was apparent that their skirmish would not be finished any time soon.
Linda and Jacques were having a hard time with their strange opponent. In the first moment of the battle, Linda had pulled out the bow Brand had given her and buried a silver-tipped arrow almost to the feathers into its right eye. If Rhave felt the barb, it gave no indication save a snarl and to begin its charge towards them. Jacques had then proceeded to fling all of his extensive collection of throwing daggers into its hide, but that also had almost no effect. Rhave looked like a pin cushion, but it still kept charging.
"Humans, daring to stand to me." Rhave's voice was so bestial that it was almost unintelligible. "I will feast on you."
He moved in straight line as if to charge Nasoren, but at the last second it spun and lunged at Jacques with blinding speed. Nasoren saw Jacques tense up in surprise and fear at the sudden change. He looked petrified.
"Move Jacques!" She desperately screamed, but as Rhave sped towards him, he did nothing but stand and stare.
"Good," Rhave snarled in exaltation. "Stay still. It will all be over soon."
Just when it lunged towards him, however, with its claws and jaw out to attack, a smile crossed Jacques face. He ducked under the large canine and dropped a small ball onto the ground where he had been. When the lycanthrope landed, the small ball flashed, releasing a large volume of smoke into the air. The billowing cloud with its tendrils of darker smoke overtook both Jacques and Rhave, and Nasoren could not see anything inside the gray sphere. It was almost as if the two of them had vanished, but then a blast shook the ground around her, and she saw Jacques fling himself from the darkness, quickly followed by a large flare of fire as the fireballs he had cast exploded.
He rolled from his flight, and came back up with a jump and bow back towards the cloud, which was being dissipated due to the concussive force of the blast.
"Is he dead?" Nasoren could not see inside the murkiness just yet.
Jacques stopped in mid-bow and looked contemplative. "I did not linger a sufficient amount of time to officiate his demise, but I am rather cer—"
His words were cut off by a roar filled with pain and anger from the cloud, and just then it cleared enough for them to see Rhave, his fur in patches, and some parts of him still on fire, burst from it and race to Jacques. This time, Jacques was legitimately surprised, and in a moment the wolf was upon him. He reflexively leapt back, which alone saved him from being beheaded by the snapping jaws, and somehow managed to pull his saber from its sheath and slash both arms when their claws lashed out at him. His blade met the soft fur, but the sinewy muscles underneath them were so taught that his blade only went centimeters into them. Even though he was able to block them, however, the next strikes came immediately after those, and just as Jacques was landing from his jump.
Jacques was forced to slash violently at the wolf's face before rolling back to make it pause and get away from its vicious claws. He was successful in avoiding the claws, but instead of rearing away from the blade, Rhave let it slash across its snout and kept moving forward and slashing. Its position would have almost looked comical, had not Jacques been in mortal peril, as it was standing on its two back paws and slashing with its front ones. Its balance was totally forward, and it would have fallen down had it not kept moving forward. With this, it was able to constantly attack Jacques without fear of a counter, since its vitals were so far away from him, and the only vital close, its brain, was guarded by its teeth.
The result of its dangerous attacks was that Jacques had to constantly move backwards and work his sword back and forth blocking its constant claws strikes and dodging its snapping jaws, as nothing could block those. Even though he was able to block every attack that came, and was even able to do it at the flesh level rather than at the claws, Jacques felt the despair that came with the knowledge that there was nothing he could do to get out of this situation. Any feat of martial or acrobatic prowess would end in his capture and death at the claws of this infernal animal, and the only thing he could do to stay alive was to step back and work his fastest to block and evade everything.
He was almost at the point of giving his opponent an opening just to see if he could end its life while giving up his own, but then he saw Nasoren running up on Rhave's right side, where it was blind, and they silently exchanged looks of acceptance of a plan. Jacques could not explain how he knew what she was thinking, but he simply knew.
It was that look to the si
de, however, that was his mistake. When he looked back, only a second at most had expired, but one of Rhave's paws was passing under his guard. Its four main claws stabbed into his side and dug a long line across his ribs before ripping clothes and skin when it left. He stumbled with the strength of the blow and the crippling pain, and Rhave growled in excitement as it shot its jaws out to snap his head off.
Before it could fully commit to the movement, however, Nasoren slammed the spear Brand had given to her into its side, right under the front armpit, and it faltered. When its head snapped forward again, Jacques rolled under the attack and under the wolf. Before it could do anything, Jacques shoved his saber into its stomach cavity, then spun out and laid open all of its intestines. As his insides fell to the ground, Rhave howled ferociously, and Nasoren put her foot against its shoulder and yanked out her spear before joining Jacques.
"Well, that was hard," she panted. She had had to run to keep up with a wolf.
"Indeed it was," Jacques smiled and put up a strong front. "but nothing too strenuous." His smile faded and he grunted as he clasped his hand to his side. Blood was seeping from him, and when Nasoren looked down she could see the whites of his bones beneath the wounds.
"You should lie down for awhile. I'll heal you." She was about to do just that when she heard a growl behind her and turned to see Rhave, his intestines dragging on the ground under him, slowly walking towards them. Jacques tried to stand between the two of them, but when he took a step he stuttered and fell to one knee. Blood flowed from his wounds, and Nasoren now guessed that those claws had not stopped at the bones, but had struck an organ or two. She realized that he would not be able to help her this time around, and for some reason she smiled.