08-12-2018, 07:05 AM
The old clinic was a nightmarish place. The crimson-stained walls and smell of decay permeating the air would be enough to unnerve even the bravest soldier. Erik, however, was struggling to contain the spring in his step as he hunted for Serraph.
“What a curious building.” The cultist mused as his eyes scanned the silent halls, the violet light leaking from his gaze bathing the dark corridors in an amethystine glow. The blood was foul, certainly, but he could almost feel the tormented spirits centred in the clinic. It was a strange and wonderful feeling. The psychic paused for a moment as a faint noise pierced the quiet. Could he hear… Whispering?
“Perhaps I've been channeling psi for too long…” Erik thought to himself, trying to pinpoint the source of the muffled sound. He had been overcharged for the entirety of the last match, after all, so it was natural that some side effects would start to manifest. Undeterred, the priest redoubled his psionic charge as it started to waver. He had to be certain that Serraph wouldn't overpower him when they met.
After far too much time scouring the clinic, Erik peered into a room and spotted his arrancar opponent. Serraph seemed to be inspecting the blood stains decorating the walls, mumbling to himself about something. The priest was tempted to leave his foe to his own devices for a moment. It pained him to interrupt such curiosity, but it had to be done. Psi spilled from Erik’s cloak, coalescing into the form of a bow. The priest was painfully aware that he could end this right now, but even as he drew back the string, doubt hung heavily over his head. There would be no honour in a kill like this. Dismissing his bow, the cultist drew Mageslayer instead.
Serraph was roused from his inspection by the sound of footsteps. The arrancar whirled around to face his foe, Libro in hand, but wasn't fast enough to avoid the knee Erik flung towards his midsection. The blow landed heavily, knocking the wind from the pale boy. Pressing the attack, the cultist swung Mageslayer down in a brutal arc, but Serraph was able to turn the blow aside, even in his winded state. The arrancar seemed to be visibly struggling with something as he backed away, but it was obviously something Erik was not meant to be privy to.
“Now, where was I earlier?” The cultist muttered, sheathing Mageslayer. “Ah, that's right!”
The quiet atmosphere of the clinic was shattered by the cacophony of clanking chains, each one tearing itself hungrily from its host’s body. Serraph backed away cautiously, his face twisted into a combination of wariness and curiosity. The lowest two tendrils scraped menacingly against the floor as Erik stomped towards the arrancar, the dried blood on the floor mingling with the cultist’s own fresh ichor.
Serraph shifted his grip on Libro, scanning his surroundings for the best way to avoid the vicious chains twisting around his foe. The jagged blades at the end of each chain dove towards their pale prey, stabbing down like half a dozen scorpion stingers as the arrancar leapt out of the way. Serraph darted across the room, nimbly dodging each of the hungry daggers as they lunged for him.
Frustrated at the speed of his opponent, Erik’s eyes darted to a nearby overturned table. Three of the chains reached out, wrapping around the table and lifting it above their host’s head. Pausing a moment to take aim, the cultist cocked his tendrils back and hurled the table towards the arrancar. The table rocketed through the air, only to be slashed in twain by a lightning fast reaction from Serraph.
The psychic froze for a few moments. The arrancar wasn't very strong or durable, but he was fast and incredibly skilled. If Erik was even going to lay a finger on him, he needed a plan. Fortunately for the cultist, inspiration soon struck in the form of a chakram racing towards him. Even as he began to move his chains to intercept the razor-sharp ring, his elder-addled brain worked overtime, formulating a hasty strategy that might give him an edge.
The chakram hit hard, biting into Erik’s chest and knocking him to the floor. Serraph raised Libro cautiously, waiting for a counter attack that never arrived. After a few moments of silence, the noble still hadn't risen. The arrancar edged closer, keeping Libro cautiously raised. The cultist’s chest was utterly still. Sighing in relief, Serraph turned and started to go back to his investigation, only for his thoughts to be shattered by the clanking of chains.
Before the arrancar could react, a cruel steel tendrils shot out and wrapped itself around his torso, binding his arms to his sides. Erik climbed to his feet with an equally cruel grin, his psi-infused glare staring deep into Serraph. The chain tightened itself around its prey, sinking it's barbs deeper into his papery form.
“No more running.” The cultist growled, his chain starting to reel the arrancar in.
“What a curious building.” The cultist mused as his eyes scanned the silent halls, the violet light leaking from his gaze bathing the dark corridors in an amethystine glow. The blood was foul, certainly, but he could almost feel the tormented spirits centred in the clinic. It was a strange and wonderful feeling. The psychic paused for a moment as a faint noise pierced the quiet. Could he hear… Whispering?
“Perhaps I've been channeling psi for too long…” Erik thought to himself, trying to pinpoint the source of the muffled sound. He had been overcharged for the entirety of the last match, after all, so it was natural that some side effects would start to manifest. Undeterred, the priest redoubled his psionic charge as it started to waver. He had to be certain that Serraph wouldn't overpower him when they met.
After far too much time scouring the clinic, Erik peered into a room and spotted his arrancar opponent. Serraph seemed to be inspecting the blood stains decorating the walls, mumbling to himself about something. The priest was tempted to leave his foe to his own devices for a moment. It pained him to interrupt such curiosity, but it had to be done. Psi spilled from Erik’s cloak, coalescing into the form of a bow. The priest was painfully aware that he could end this right now, but even as he drew back the string, doubt hung heavily over his head. There would be no honour in a kill like this. Dismissing his bow, the cultist drew Mageslayer instead.
Serraph was roused from his inspection by the sound of footsteps. The arrancar whirled around to face his foe, Libro in hand, but wasn't fast enough to avoid the knee Erik flung towards his midsection. The blow landed heavily, knocking the wind from the pale boy. Pressing the attack, the cultist swung Mageslayer down in a brutal arc, but Serraph was able to turn the blow aside, even in his winded state. The arrancar seemed to be visibly struggling with something as he backed away, but it was obviously something Erik was not meant to be privy to.
“Now, where was I earlier?” The cultist muttered, sheathing Mageslayer. “Ah, that's right!”
The quiet atmosphere of the clinic was shattered by the cacophony of clanking chains, each one tearing itself hungrily from its host’s body. Serraph backed away cautiously, his face twisted into a combination of wariness and curiosity. The lowest two tendrils scraped menacingly against the floor as Erik stomped towards the arrancar, the dried blood on the floor mingling with the cultist’s own fresh ichor.
Serraph shifted his grip on Libro, scanning his surroundings for the best way to avoid the vicious chains twisting around his foe. The jagged blades at the end of each chain dove towards their pale prey, stabbing down like half a dozen scorpion stingers as the arrancar leapt out of the way. Serraph darted across the room, nimbly dodging each of the hungry daggers as they lunged for him.
Frustrated at the speed of his opponent, Erik’s eyes darted to a nearby overturned table. Three of the chains reached out, wrapping around the table and lifting it above their host’s head. Pausing a moment to take aim, the cultist cocked his tendrils back and hurled the table towards the arrancar. The table rocketed through the air, only to be slashed in twain by a lightning fast reaction from Serraph.
The psychic froze for a few moments. The arrancar wasn't very strong or durable, but he was fast and incredibly skilled. If Erik was even going to lay a finger on him, he needed a plan. Fortunately for the cultist, inspiration soon struck in the form of a chakram racing towards him. Even as he began to move his chains to intercept the razor-sharp ring, his elder-addled brain worked overtime, formulating a hasty strategy that might give him an edge.
The chakram hit hard, biting into Erik’s chest and knocking him to the floor. Serraph raised Libro cautiously, waiting for a counter attack that never arrived. After a few moments of silence, the noble still hadn't risen. The arrancar edged closer, keeping Libro cautiously raised. The cultist’s chest was utterly still. Sighing in relief, Serraph turned and started to go back to his investigation, only for his thoughts to be shattered by the clanking of chains.
Before the arrancar could react, a cruel steel tendrils shot out and wrapped itself around his torso, binding his arms to his sides. Erik climbed to his feet with an equally cruel grin, his psi-infused glare staring deep into Serraph. The chain tightened itself around its prey, sinking it's barbs deeper into his papery form.
“No more running.” The cultist growled, his chain starting to reel the arrancar in.
Quote:841/850 words
Used psi overcharge for the rest of the fight (-2 SP, 1/5 remaining)
*The emperor of mankind yeets erik into a sun*
[Today 08:03 pm] Erik Vrell : Bruh
[Today 08:03 pm] The emperor of mankind : don't worship gods
[Today 08:03 pm] Erik Vrell : Bruh
[Today 08:03 pm] The emperor of mankind : don't worship gods