12-11-2016, 11:13 AM
The two beings clashed in the darkness, only finding one another through frantic swings. Light came in ephemeral snapshots as their weapons met and threw off sparks. Without sight it was merely a guessing game, one with lethal consequences. After receiving what must have been the seventh or eighth laceration of his fight Ballad raised his flame pistol and fired. A gout of heat erupted from the weapon’s barrel. The torrential blaze licked at the edges of the cave, bathing everything in a warm red light. He swept it from side-to-side, trying to locate his adversary. From the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of Kuzuru, but it was far too late.
Ballad stumbled back as Kuzuru closed the distance and swiped upwards. Alarm bell rang in his head and he shouted in pain. A numb tugging sensation was felt at his hand, or rather at the wrist where his hand should have been. His hand, the one that once held the flame pistol, now sat several feet away, severed cleanly at the wrist. Spurts of blood spewed forth from the open wound. Kuzuru kicked out his legs and sent him sprawling into the snow. Before he could react a blade was spiked through his shoulder, pinning him to the ground. Kuzuru stood over him, a wicked grin plastered across the devil’s face. Fire burned in his eyes and Agern’s voice leaped from his mouth, “checkmate greenie.” Kuzuru shook his head, dispelling the impudent vagrant that was Agern. Without a word he twisted his forearm and snapped the blade off, leaving it impaled in Ballad. “Now now, don’t die on me yet Ballad,” Kuzuru growled, “you’ve got a movie to star in.”
The demon retrieved Ballad’s hand, which was now stiff with the cold. He pried open the fingers and grasped the still-warm pistol. Planting a boot on Ballad’s severed wrist and kneeled down and pressed the red-hot barrel against Ballad’s stump. Kuzuru shivered with delight as Ballad yelled and his flesh seared shut. By the end of this torturous process the charred stump was still seeping blood, but it would take a while for the gunsmith to bleed out. Satisfied with his work Kuzuru discarded the weapon and looked around the battlefield. It was a painting birthed inside a madman’s mind. To Ballad he said, “don’t worry this won’t take long.” He then shouted for his companions, or what was left of them.
Ballad stumbled back as Kuzuru closed the distance and swiped upwards. Alarm bell rang in his head and he shouted in pain. A numb tugging sensation was felt at his hand, or rather at the wrist where his hand should have been. His hand, the one that once held the flame pistol, now sat several feet away, severed cleanly at the wrist. Spurts of blood spewed forth from the open wound. Kuzuru kicked out his legs and sent him sprawling into the snow. Before he could react a blade was spiked through his shoulder, pinning him to the ground. Kuzuru stood over him, a wicked grin plastered across the devil’s face. Fire burned in his eyes and Agern’s voice leaped from his mouth, “checkmate greenie.” Kuzuru shook his head, dispelling the impudent vagrant that was Agern. Without a word he twisted his forearm and snapped the blade off, leaving it impaled in Ballad. “Now now, don’t die on me yet Ballad,” Kuzuru growled, “you’ve got a movie to star in.”
The demon retrieved Ballad’s hand, which was now stiff with the cold. He pried open the fingers and grasped the still-warm pistol. Planting a boot on Ballad’s severed wrist and kneeled down and pressed the red-hot barrel against Ballad’s stump. Kuzuru shivered with delight as Ballad yelled and his flesh seared shut. By the end of this torturous process the charred stump was still seeping blood, but it would take a while for the gunsmith to bleed out. Satisfied with his work Kuzuru discarded the weapon and looked around the battlefield. It was a painting birthed inside a madman’s mind. To Ballad he said, “don’t worry this won’t take long.” He then shouted for his companions, or what was left of them.