DiabloFans

Vaker finally got to the church with his companions, the short distance that separeted them from the doors was filled with demons so it was harder than they expected...

once they got in, the stench of putrid corpses filled his lungs... but he was too tired to complain, he sat on the floor...

"We should move now!" Borin said...

"Oh!! please!, can't we just rest a few minutes? we need to recover energy and the demons can't get in..."

Ja'quar stretched his left arm behind him. His mind went clear and he felt his minions standing in the shape that he had crafted.

He advanced towards the church. With each step taken he distanced himself from the zombies; they should remain there while he lured the enemy. At first it had seemed easy, but the farther he went away, the more energy it drained.

He stretched his right arm, trying to relieve the pressure. It helped, but only slightly. There was still a long way to go.

The shaman felt his strain and tried to help him, yet the fallen was weak. The magic inside of him was still upset from the recent rising; it needed time to recover. The shaman had no option left but to empathise, yet that was all Ja'quar needed.

He took another step.

Luring them would be only half the strain, Ja'quar knew. Controlling the trap would be just as stressful, but that's a problem he would face later. He needed to distract the mob around the church.

He hoped that those inside would strike when their enemy was at its weakest.
He knew they would, and it strengthened him.

He resumed his pace.

Azriel saw Ja'quar walking towards the church, his arm outstretched. He slowly put together what was going on, and in an attempt to conceal himself from imminent danger, yet keep a distance where he could perform spells on possible survivors, he climbed onto a nearby roof.

Azriel walked along the sidewalk, making sure to stay hidden from potential fallen eyes. After a good two minutes, he found an alley where he could sink in with the shadows.

"Where is everybody, this is getting ridiculous..."

He drew his dagger... examined it with admiration. He ran his finger across the edge, drawing his own blood. The dagger glowed a demonic red as it fed off the Azriel's demon blood. He began to chuckle to himself.

"Azriel... you bad, bad boy..."

His finger began to bleed profusely and the once furious scream of glowing red had dimmed down to a whisper. The blade wasn't satisfied with it's offering. The blade began speaking to him, whispering evil incantations.

"You can't expect a finger prick to satisfy me, Azriel."

The blade began to shake, and out of desperation, Azriel slit his own wrist and held it over the blade. The blood poured over every part of the blade, cloaking it in crimson flow. Azriel began to whimper.

"Why did I beg the gods for you? You've caused me nothing but grief."

And the blood still poured, and Azriel tossed down the blade. He started to run over to Ja'Quar... but then he stopped because he didn't know how he would explain yet another injury. Azriel knew nothing of healing...

The first fallen looked around. A bloodthirsty scream. Others looked as well.

Ja'quar turned around, straining his mind for the last time. Soon it would be better. With his arms stretched out in front of him he ran. Like a spring returning to his original shape, he felt the tension that had built up inside him dissipate.

He ran on, slowly immersing himself in sweet bliss. He completely forgot where he was, slowly getting high on the lack of stress his body had to endure.

A terrible shriek brought him back to reality. He neared his V-shaped zombie wall. He knew what to do, and slowly searched for the rifts he needed. The few bodies he needed to close the wall began to stir. He regained his posture at the tip of the trap, his arms spreading to the sides of the V.

"This is gonna get rough" he yelled, "Azriel, I'm going to need help."

When the fallen reached the trap, his mind took a hit like none before. Fallen began to claw, slash, bite, and bash their way through the wall of flesh in front of them. The amount of energy it took him to keep the bodies standing nearly knocked him over. He regained his posture, but was barely able to make the zombies attack. That was just beyond his powers.

At least the little shaman was able to stab the fallen.

Another fallen ran from inside one of the houses. Azriel shook himself out of his distress, picked up his blade, and lunged forward with it. The blade sunk into the fallen's shoulder and Azriel tore down. The blade melted the fallen's flesh and the dagger swept down as smoothly as an arm cuts the air. The fallen buckled over, his eyes wide with fear, and the wound in his back bled more and more, more than a normal wound would.

"What was that?" Jerfuth said as a roar of comotion echoed into the church.

He turned to the doors of the church and flung them open, peering out into the courtyard where two of their allies had continued to fight off the hordes of Fallen.

"We must help them! They surely can't win this one on their own!" Jerfuth yelled back to the rest of the group that had taken refuge in the church.

Jerfuth quickly shifted into his hawk form, taking flight toward the masses of Fallen. In mid flight he shifted into bear form and fell onto the Fallen that were battling back against the wall of zombies Ja'quar had summoned. Slashing, ripping, and biting his way through the Fallen, Jerfuth had pushed back many Fallen. He fought harder and stronger than he had ever before, taking minimal damage. I am lucky, he thought as he severed the arm of Fallen from it's torso, Mother Earth has granted me more power than I ever could have imagined. Jerfuth fought on and on, his body had been restored by Mother Earth while he had rested.

Azriel looked at his dagger again, but this time, not with admiration. In absolute disgust, the threw the dagger onto the highest rooftop.

"I am not in debt to you anymore."

He looked around to see two more fallen coming towards him. Azriel drew another blade from his belt, Pascallian. This blade was one he had forged himself, a very different power emitted from this blade. He lunged forward and stabbed one of the fallen directly in the neck. It's blood poured over Azriel's hand, and as he withdrew his blade, a fallen sliced open his calf. Azriel screamed in agony and cursed the sky. The fallen hovered over Azriel in satisfaction. They exchanged glances, and the fallen started to chortle, then it started to choke. It's eyes, once filled with victory, were now filled with the all too familiar terror. Azriel started to laugh. The fallen buckled over, dead, and Azriel stabbed it in the back, drawing as much blood as possible.

Another fallen charged towards Azriel, but then it stopped as it watched the gruesome act. It began charging again, and Azriel heard it's blubbering cry. He wheeled around on his good leg and threw his blade towards the ground. The ground started to smolder and the fallen began screaming in agony as it's feet started to burn profusely.

"Of course. I have no reason to remain in this town. Are there anymore of your party coming?" He inquired

"Two more remain outside, it's about time we go help them." Dagon said, hoping his comrades had sufficient time to prepare whatever it was they were planning.

"We must help them! They surely can't win this one on their own!" Dagon marely nodded at the druid, and rushed out to meet the fallen with him. "Comrades, we must charge the keep, the lord may still have men there!" he yelled back into the church as he rushed out.

He immediately caught one of the fallen with his sword, decapitating it with one fell swing. He reversed his grip, and drove the tip into the gut of a fallen behind him. He felt invigorated after each kill, more alive as blood was spilled by his hands. He looked down at his hands, they were changing once more, just like they had before they entered the church.

No... father... he's reaching out to me he thought to himself, silently cursing his heritage. He kept his grip on his blade, refusing to resort to his natural weapons to take lives. He fought onwards, trying to will himself back to humanity, but the changes were now occuring faster and faster. His muscles tightened, his hearing sharpened, he could feel the heartbeats of enemies not within view, he was becoming that which was bred into him: a demon.

He fell to the ground, spitting out a black liquid as his skin writhed underneath his armor. Spikes of bone protruded from his fingers, and a tail was beginning to pierce through the leather of his leg guards. He screamed, an inhuman scream that the fallen nearby recognized. The fallen nearby fled, rushing out of the town as hastily as they could.

Dagon panted on the ground, the changes beginning to subside. He looked at his comrades, wondering what they would say next. He could no longer keep his birth a secret from them.

"There's no easy way to say this... but I'm the son of a demon lord." he said, hoping his comrades wouldn't turn on him. "If you're still with me, we've got a lord to rescue, and demons to slaughter."

He looked over at his brother, feeling regret for deceiving him for so long.
I am sorry...

All of the Fallen around Jerfuth seemed to have fleed to area. Jerfuth shifted back to human looking around as a reason why the Fallen would have fled. He turned to see a demon standing amongst them, but this demon was different. He was not fighting them, he was fighting with them.

"There's no easy way to say this... but I'm the son of a demon lord." the demon then spoke, "If you're still with me, we've got a lord to rescue, and demons to slaughter."

"Dagon?" Jerfuth spoke approaching the demon, "Who am I to judge you for altering your form to succeed in battle when I stand here and do it myself? You were a brother then, and you are a brother now," Jefruth ended with his hand outstreched toward the new Dagon; the better, faster, stronger, demonic form of Dagon.

Dagon grinned, pleased that Jerfuth still stood with him.

"Thank you... brother." he clasped his hand in his, and gave it a hearty shake.

"Though, my transformation is not the same as yours. I've been a human all my life, now, for some reason..... it's like my father is reaching out to me, slowly changing me, warping me into a different form. I don't know why, but we must be wary." he said, considering what other gifts he may receive in time, and if he would want to remain human once the full power of a demon was within his grasp.

Drangar met his brothers gaze. He could clearly see he was distraught and very ashamed. A very awkward silence fell over the group as he continually stared at his brother, when suddenly he heard Jerfuth's voice. "Who am I to judge you for altering your form to succeed in battle when I stand here and do it myself? You were a brother then, and you are a brother now,"

"Thank you... brother."

"Brother..." Drangar said as in an attempt to gain his brothers attention. "I do not care if you are the son of Abbadon himself... you will always be my brother... and I will always be your greatest ally."

"Brother...I do not care if you are the son of Abbadon himself... you will always be my brother... and I will always be your greatest ally." Dagon was overjoyed to hear this, and also paused a minute to consider what had been said.

Dagon walked over, and hugged his brother.

"Dragnar... I think you've just had a moment of genius. It makes perfect sense now, I am most likely the son of Abbadon himself. Why else would I suddenly be changing around demons, unless these were his minions? "

With his eyes closed, Ja'quar only sensed the energy flowing from his minions to him and vice versa. The strain it put on him was nigh unbearable, but he kept on going. He breathed slowly, keeping the bodies alive for as long as possible.

A scream pierced the air. The assault stopped.

Ha didn't know what that inhumane sound had been, but the assault stopped. He opened his eyes. The fallen were scrambling all around, desperately intent to steer clear from the church. The moved his minions into a ring around him to let the fallen pass. As they raced past, he looked at his own fallen.

The undead demon was horror-struck. His eyes were wide and it seemed it took al his strength to keep himself from running away. Ja'quar laid a hand on the shaman's head, calming him. They then braced themselves for whatever had struck so much fear into the fallen.

When the fallen had cleared, he saw members of his party standing in front of the church. What shocked Ja'quar was that they were accompanied by what seemed like a demon. It seemed that the two sides were talking with each other.

The lack of a fight eased Ja'quar a bit. He only kept a handful of his minions alive and started to walk towards the church. He saw the demon and Jerfuth shaking hands. And where's Dagon? He asked himself he has to be around here somewhere. As he got within earshot he heard Drangar say, "you will always be my brother... and I will always be your greatest ally."

That can't be Ja'quar pondered as he walked on more firmly Dagon? Demon? It would seems so, because with every passing moment the being started to look more and more like Dagon.

"Dragnar... I think you've just had a moment of genius. It makes perfect sense now, I am most likely the son of Abbadon himself. Why else would I suddenly be changing around demons, unless these were his minions? "

Ja'quar had finally caught up with them.

"Wait, wait, wait. You're the son of a demon lord, whose minions we happen to be killing around here? Seriously, I should have never helped you out of that trap! Well, sure. You seem like a nice character, but that big tail of yours isn't the nicest thing around, you know? How do we know you're not going to turn on us when daddy comes around?"

"Wait, wait, wait. You're the son of a demon lord, whose minions we happen to be killing around here? Seriously, I should have never helped you out of that trap! Well, sure. You seem like a nice character, but that big tail of yours isn't the nicest thing around, you know? How do we know you're not going to turn on us when daddy comes around?" Ja'Quar said to him, the anger rising in his voice as he questioned Dagon.

"Well, I've never MET daddy before, So I really have no reason to turn on you. I curse him for putting this blood into me, it was a constant struggle when I was young just to stay human, and now it's all for nothing, NOTHING!!" he yelled the last part at the air, cursing his father, hoping he was listening.

"I am... sorry that I never told you this before, but I hadn't planned on running into a force of demons, let alone demons which seem to be minions of my father. But... my mind is still my own, even though my shape is not. Rest assured that I won't be turning on you." Dagon said, hoping to ease Ja'Quars tension.

Azriel crawled towards the nearest sidewalk, and with each move, his wound stung more and more.

"What are they talking about?"

Once he got onto the sidewalk, he tried to conjure up another storm, but the pain in his leg made it difficult to even do that. His wound spurted a torrent a blood and Azriel groaned in agony.

"God fucking DAMNIT!"

The curse echoed across the street, bouncing off every nearby wall.

Distracted by their exchange of loyalties, Dagon heard Azriel yell from across the street.

"Fuck, so that's who was left out here." he cursed, hoping his wounds were not too great. He rushed over to his comrade, completely forgetting that he was currently in the form of a demon, picked him up, and rushed him back to his companions, hoping that somebody could heal his wounds.

Hey, did you know demons aren't the good guys?

Dagon heard a man say from behind him, and whirled around to see a bloodied warrior rushing him with a knife. He paused a minute when Seddrick intervened, and cautioned him on his course of action. Dagon nodded at Seddrick, giving him his thanks, and proceeded to talk to the man himself.

"I'm not one of the demons that are trying to kill you, I was originally a warrior sent from Yarin to help liberate Olenta from the demons. Yarin was attacked as well, ands we believe that a common enemy is behind this all, the town of Sulvus. We had hoped to arrive in time to secure additional forces.... but it seems that won't be happening. Now, we're trying to work towards the castle keep, I know this may be a lot to take in at once, but we desperately need guidance, and it looks like you were one of the guardsmen here. Could you take us to the keep?" Dagon explained and asked, hoping that the man would trust them.

As everyone poured out of the church to finish their battle, Borin hopped down from the window he was peering out of. As he jumped onto a banister, the wood cracked and broke. Borin fell to the ground, hitting his head and knocking him unconscious.

Waking up moments later, Borin quickly looked around to assess his situation. The rest of the group was outside and it appeared a battle had already been fought.

"How long was I out for?" Borin thought to himself. Still unable to move yet, he could hear everyone talking in the courtyard. He heard an unfamiliar voice talking, explaining his situation. He also heard Dagon's voice explaining a transformation.

Shaking his head Borin slowly lifted himself off the floor. He looked out to see exactly what Dagon was talking about. His body had changed, giving him the appearance of a demon more than a man. By everyone else's actions around him, he could tell that he was still the same person on the inside and this transformation was merely on the outside.

"I guess I can use this information as leverage in case anyone finds out about my true identity." Borin thought. He quickly regathered himself, making sure his mask was still in place and walked slowly out of the church.

"Sorry I could not be of more help." Borin told the others. "I had a bit of a slip in the church back there. What happened out here guys? and What's our plan?"

"Drefan, if you will aid us, then we will help you find your wife." Dagon replied to the man, feeling sorry for him as his life burned around him.

But his pity was cut short, a group of fallen brandishing manacles, whips, and tridents were rushing them, they looked like slavers.

He reacted immediately, his newfound demonic reflexes nearly too much for him to handle. His speed threw him off balance, and led him to clumsily fall into the first of the demons.

Fuck... this will take a while to get used to he thought as he rolled aside to avoid the trident of one of the warriors. He drew his sword, and found it somewhat small compared to his new body. He cursed, and realized he might have to embrace his demonic gifts after all.

He rushed the first of the fallen, grabbed his trident, and threw it aside. He drove two of his talons into the warriors eye sockets, and ripped outwards with a sickening splurch, tearing off the flesh of his face as his hand retracted. The fallen collapsed, screaming in agony as it bled out. Dagon threw aside the skin, and bellowed at the warriors charging them.

To his surprise, it was not his language that came out, but a foreign, demonic language that escaped his lips. The fallen paused, and retreated once more, shaken from the experience.

"We won't be so lucky next time.. I think the only reason they're leaving is because their overseer is dead, as well as their shamans." Dagon said, his tactical mind already picking up various cues that he had learned from the Fallen warriors.

"But, we must depart. Drefan, lead the way to Cara's house, and we'll leave several of the soldiers we brought with us to protect her while we go to the keep."