Duel on the Plain (Kedisar)

OOC: Yeah, I couldn't think of a cool, creative title... Okay, Kedsy. It’s time we had another fight, because I miss my fights with you…*sniff* Anyway, I’ll be using my Avarite, Rhavyn. She should be in a convenient location in the Archives, I think.

IC:

The night wind swept across the grassy, empty plain. The area was completely void of any other forms of life except the closely cropped grass. Apparently, a herd of some form of grazing animal had just been through here. A great pearl of a moon hung in the sky, radiating a cold light over the landscape. Stars twinkled overhead, winking in and out of existence for split seconds at a time. Everything had a calm about it, a calm heralding the breaking of some kind of storm.

A shadow moved on the plain, surrounded by many other smaller shadows. The larger shadow appeared to be attempting to fight off the smaller ones. As the moon cast its light over the scene, the figure in the middle was revealed. She was a tall woman clothed in all-black clothing with a hooded cloak shielding most of her face. Cat-like, yellow eyes glinted from within the shadow of her hood, and they flashed with an eager light as she wielded her massive weapon, a deadly glaive. She made quick work of her aggressors, and their fallen corpses surrounded her, blood covering the ground. Inside her head, the dark woman heard a maniacal laughter.

That’s is, my pretty one, my Rhavyn. Slay everyone; slay everything! I thirst for blood, and you will satisfy my desire! Now!

Rhavyn stared to move but then hesitated. A grave mistake.

Silver light burst forth from the silver manacles around her wrists, making them appear like liquid fire. Ancient, black runes appeared across their surfaces, flowing with a menacing grace. Instinctively, Rhavyn knew the same thing was happening to the silvery collar around her neck. She was lifted into the air against her will, and all the struggling in the world could not break her free from the invisible force controlling her. Desperately, Rhavyn tried to appease her master.

“Master, I’m so sorry I hesitated. I know that I am to obey your every whim, and I will never hesitate again. Please. Release me.”

Slowly, Rhavyn was lowered back to the ground. The voice inside her head hummed with satisfaction. Saying nothing, Rhavyn immediately walked over to the nearest corpse, steeling herself for what was to come.

Kneeling beside the bloody corpse, Rhavyn placed a hand in a pool of the man’s congealed blood. Cupping both of her hands together, she brought the blood to her mouth and touched her lips to it. Trying her hardest not to vomit right there, Rhavyn sipped at the thick, red liquid. Repulsed though she was, Rhavyn dared not stop, for her master’s wrath would be terrible.

When she finished, Rhavyn wiped the remaining traces of blood from her fingertips onto the soft grass and used her sleeve to wipe blood from her lips. She stood shakily to her feet, wishing fervently for something to wash the taste out of her mouth, when she noticed movement to her left. Retrieving her glaive from the ground, Rhavyn cursed the wide open plain she was on and tensed, ready for whomever or whatever was coming her way.

Micah heard the calming voice of Azrael in his mind.

"You see her, right, my child?" The voice said.

Micah nodded. "Yes, father," he replied while he slunk through the damp grass and walked over the fallen, mutilated corpses. What evil happened here?

"Something wicked this way comes, I fear." Azrael began. "Or, to rephrase, you come to it. A fell raptor-beast, a creature of the night, and an evil being that humanity shall never see. In the name of God, Micah, never let it see another sunrise."

The half-angel gripped his Spineshank's handle and pulled it from the holster. It was a marvel of modern technology: a three-barreled pistol that fired a swarm of piercing, electrocuting, wires of death.

He could see Rhavyn standing right out on the feild; corpses lay everywhere. Their stagnet stench crept into Micah's nose, and he tried to suppressed a gagging cough. The silky sleeve of his uniform pressed against his small, girl-like lips and against his nostrils. The smell was so unholy.

"The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want," he said slowly, trying to ignore the putrid odor, while connecting the electrodes of his Spineshank to the power cell affixed to his belt. "He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul, he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me."

Micah loaded a vial of barbed needles into his firearm and crept closer to the unsuspecting woman, but remained out of audible distance. With a press of a latch, the stock of his gun opened up, and allowed him to deposit a coil of silver wire.

"Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord..."

He paused, and raised his firearm.

"...forever. Amen."

The Spineshank vomited out three hissing needles; before Rhavyn could even respond, one of the darts impaled her arm. Micah had missed.

"Forgive me, Azrael..." he said, forlorn, and pulled the second trigger. A pulse of a thousand charges shot through the wire. The black shadow suddenly cried out and fell, convulsing and arching her back 'till it looked as if it would snap and send a shower of her filthy blood across the grass. She calmed down and collapsed, breathing with sporadic and irregular gasps.

Micah pulled the lever down on the Spineshank and detatched the electrode wire; he then holstered his gun and walked slowly to Rhavyn. It was then he revealed the Thunderfist; a device that looked like a being by itself, but had somehow grown onto the half-angel's hand. It was an enormous plated claw covered in wires, plates, pistons, hoses, cells, lights, and arcing, sizzling lightning. The cybernetic hand twitched as it prepared to grab the poor girl and send her straight to Hell to burn on the pyre forever.

Rhavyn’s vision was doubled; she couldn’t focus. She tried to shake her head in order to clear her blurred vision but to no avail. She knew there was something she had to get away from, but the electrocution had fuzzed her brain. As she could feel it getting closer, Rhavyn’s master shouted in her head.

MOVE, IDIOT GIRL!! If you die, we’ll both be destroyed!

Then, everything happened at once and in seeming slow motion.

Micah jerked back reflexively, red eyes darting everywhere at once. Rhavyn’s collar emanated a brilliant, silver light, and the characteristic black runes ran across their smooth surface rapidly. Rhavyn was picked up and hurled a good 20 feet from the warily searching Micah by some invisible force. She was dropped rather unceremoniously onto the ground, and it turned out that was what she needed to clear her befuddled wits. Rhavyn saw the white-haired man standing across from her, and understanding flashed in her yellow eyes. Swiftly, she leaped to her feet, searching for her glaive; its weight in her hands would be very reassuring.

Micah looked at her with vehemence burning in his eyes, yet there was a note of question and curiosity underlying the raw detest. Rhavyn faced him with a level stare of guarded caution, attempting to search for her glaive without appearing too obvious. Surprisingly, Micah spoke first.

“What was that voice that shouted just before you used some devilish trick to escape me?”

Rhavyn balked visibly. He could hear her master? Rhavyn’s master was also equally surprised.

He can hear me? No one should be able to hear me speak to you, Rhavyn! What have you done?!

Rhavyn’s collar and manacles began to glow, and Rhavyn braced herself for the ensuing wrath of her master. She attempted to plead with him.

“Master, please. I-I did nothing! I am just as puzzled as you are! Please don’t do anything to me!”

But the pleading did nothing to abate her master’s anger. Rhavyn suddenly lost her ability to breathe as the encircling collar closed on her windpipe. Rhavyn fell to her knees, clawing at her collar and hoping to acquire oxygen. Rhavyn’s master raged inside her head.

You, listen! The only way you can avoid more punishment is to kill him! I want him wiped off the face of this earth! Give me his blood, Rhavyn!

The pressure on her windpipe released, and Rhavyn went to all fours, gasping for life-giving air. Micah looked on with a horrified and confused look on his face. Rhavyn slowly and shakily stood to her feet. She had conveniently fallen next to her glaive, and she retrieved it as she stood. Facing Micah with an apologetic look, Rhavyn said nothing. Closing her eyes, she unfastened her cloak and threw it aside gracefully. Strain painted her face as a ripping sound was heard and two large, midnight-black, feathery wings burst forth from her back. Rhavyn held her glaive at a menacing angle in front of her, the moonlight causing her to appear like some wild entity out of legend, and waited for Micah’s reaction.

"Don't provoke me, Babylon!" Micah screamed at the shadow that had just revealed its glorious dark wings. He knew he would barely have enough time to reload his Spineshank before she closed in on him. He would have to be quick, or be dead. Swiftly, his gloved hand pulled down on the back lever of his pistol, and he rapidly inserted another vial of barbed needles into the opening.

Don't let the Paladin reload his wasps of thunder! Attack, now! ATTACK! Cleave his head from his body and drink the vast resources of his heartblood!

The voice shot through Rhavyn's mind like a painful bullet. She gripped her glaive tight in her delicate hands and beat her powerful wings behind her. They thrust her toward Micah like a diving eagle on the attack; her glaive ready to decapitate the man.

"Almost, you fiend... almost..." Micah said to himself as he slid the spool of wires into the Spineshank stock. He clicked the latch shut, pressed the power on button, and raised his weapon. The enemy was only a mere two meters away when he fired the three shots into her wings. She winced, but before Micah could hit the second trigger, she sliced all three of the wires with her weapon.

Rhavyn closed in on him and cut through the thick night air with the glaive, barely missing Micah's head. The half-angel returned a powerful slam to her chest with his Thunderfist, sending a brief but stunning blast of electricity through her waist. She shrieked and recoiled, still holding the glaive to protect herself.

Micah stepped back, detached the broken wires from his gun, and holstered it. There was no way he could use it again in this battle; she was far too close. This would be a melee fight, and by the looks of her weapon, it surely wouldn't be easy.

"I have no mercy on fell beasts such as yourself," he said, brushing the white feminine hair out of his ruby eyes. "Tonight you'll feel the grip of death around that shackled neck of yours. Whoever you serve is losing his little slave.”

Rhavyn winced underneath Micah’s piercing gaze, shying away from the half-angel. Mentally, she grappled with her master. Why do I have to do this? I don’t want to kill anyone! She took a few steps backward, but even as she did so, her shackles glowed, pulling her forward against her will. Her master’s voice rang through her head.

I don’t care what you want or don’t want! You kill him, or you’ll wish you’d never been born!

Torn between her conscience and her desire to escape punishment, Rhavyn surrendered to her master’s will. Clearing her mind of all emotion, she tried to focus and not dwell on the fact that she was about to take yet another life.

Unfurling her wings, she beat them a few times to loosen her muscles and to perhaps inspire fear in Micah. But, of course, the half-angel stood his ground; the attempt at spooking him bounced off like rubber. He raised the Thunderfist slightly and distributed his weight evenly on both feet, ready to meet Rhavyn’s inevitable charge.

With only the barest hesitation, Rhavyn shot toward the waiting Micah, her glaive reflecting the moonlight straight into his ruby eyes. The half-angel recoiled, blinking furiously and giving Rhavyn the perfect opportunity to end it all right there. She swung her glaive in at Micah’s unprotected neck but at the last moment changed her weapon’s course a fraction, slicing a sizeable chuck out of Micah’s left shoulder. Blood spewed profusely from the wound, splashing against Rhavyn. The Avarite could feel her master’s pleasure coursing through her very soul, and she hated it.

Micah, meanwhile, had recovered from his temporary blindness and was inspecting his wound. Trying his best to staunch the flow of blood, the half-angel tore a small piece of his clothing and pressed the material against his wound. Turning his red-eyed stare on Rhavyn, he asked, “Why did you not kill me, fiend? Don’t think I’ll take pity on you because of some small mercy you showed me. For all I know, you’re planning some devilish trick!”

Rhavyn refrained from responding and merely dived back in at Micah, barely giving him enough time to dodge the blade of her glaive. As it was, he managed to dive roll out of the way, and he swiftly came to his feet, whirling to meet Rhavyn’s attack. He swung the Thunderfist with every ounce of his strength at Rhavyn’s chest. Rhavyn quickly switched from attack to defense, bringing the haft of her glaive protectively across her chest. As Thunderfist met haft, a small explosion resulted from the massive amount of electricity and power of the electrified mechanism. Both Rhavyn and Micah were hurled in opposite directions, landing with loud thumps upon the grassy plain. They were both unhurt except for maybe a bruise or two, but Rhavyn’s glaive was not so lucky. The glaive was almost neatly split into four separate pieces; the blade was still intact, but the haft was completely splintered into those four pieces.

“Khazac!” Rhavyn swore in her own Avarite tongue. The weapon could be repaired with her magic, but that would take time, time she didn’t have at the moment. Across the way, Micah stood to his feet, glancing at the temporarily ruined weapon.

“It seems I’ve taken away your main form of defense, fell beast.”

In reply, Rhavyn slowly and deliberately rose from the ground and stood staring at Micah, who didn’t even flinch underneath her yellow-eyed gaze. She stood still for a moment, her waist-length, raven black hair stirring faintly in the breeze that suddenly rippled across the plain. Silence reigned over the scene for what seemed like an eternity until Rhavyn moved. She shifted her weight forward slightly and revealed another of her deadly weapons: her long, cruelly-curved talons. Like a cat’s claws, the talons slid easily out of her fingers and toes, gleaming wickedly in the moonlight. She flexed them once, glancing in Micah’s direction. The half-angel was unaffected by the display and simply stood waiting. The two combatants stared across at each other, waiting for the other to move.

"You bear the blood of the Beast in you, demon!" Micah said. His wound was still painful and debilitating, but it had at least stopped bleeding. "There'll be no Purgatory for you, lass. It's straight to Hell you go."

Micah pulled the sliding lever on the wrist-guard of the Thunderfist; it was now at maximum potential. A spark of static electricity arced across the knuckle plate and ionized the air, leaving a nuance of ozone to waft away in the wind.

"There's no beast alive that can take a shock of Holy Azrael's thunder and come back for seconds, lass. His hammer will strike swift into your feeble, black heart." He reared the device back, twitching his mechanized fingers back and forth like a spider's hungry mandibles. There would only be enough power in the battery packs for three discharges, but it would take just one shock to instantly stop the heart of anyone, beast or man.

Rhavyn didn't appear to listen; she showed off her glorious claws and poised herself for the half-angel's charge. Micah's hair had fallen in a mess over his his face, with a streak of crimson smeared across it from when his blood soaked hand had tried to brush the white locks away. A gale of strong wind cut between them, and Micah suddenly appeared upon Rhavyn in a blink.

Not only was the Thunderfist a weapon, but it was a small source of medical instant steroid. The chemical instantly traveled to the muscles and brain; feeding the muscles with almost overdose qualities of oxygen, while overloading the brain with reflex potential. The user feels no pain, and becomes a berserk machine for a few minutes, which is all it takes to deliver the kill.

Micah lunged his weapon at the feathered woman, but she managed to dodge his sparking fist. A slash of her claw scraped across Micah's back, however, the chemicals coursing through his blood blocked out any pain he would feel. He whipped around like a striking serpent and landed a furious kick against her neck. Rhavyn fell to the ground, looking up at what was once a pale, feminine man, but now a screaming, merciless warrior. Micah roared with a sepulchral, female voice, and slammed his Thunderfist at his enemy. She barely could roll out of the way, and his armored hand crashed into the ground and discharged. The grass burnt and sizzled, and the earth fissured slightly at the point of impact.

Micah pulled himself back up and glared coldly at Rhavyn. He saw her as nothing but a mere beast and a defiler. But he could barely see at all through the red rage pumping through his mind. “My madness...” he whispered to her in his weak voice. There was one side effect of his drug: following the burst of fierce energy, a haze of dementia followed.

He collapsed to the ground, struggling to hold the Thunderfist above the surface to prevent it from going off again. He had used his trump card already, and the beast-woman was still standing.

“Why do you abhor me so?” The question was barely out of Rhavyn’s mouth when her master’s voice pierced through her brain.

Don’t talk to him!

For a few brief moments, Rhavyn’s master took complete control of her body. Unable to resist, Rhavyn lunged forward, talons extended. Even in his brief state of insanity, Micah knew enough to avoid Rhavyn’s raking talons while somehow keeping the Thunderfist from colliding with the ground. Suddenly, Rhavyn’s master relinquished control of her body right in the middle of another charge at Micah. The abrupt change threw her equilibrium out of balance, and she fell flat on her face.

Micah’s ensuing laugh was laced with traces of insanity, not mirth. Growling, Rhavyn pushed herself off the ground, beating her wings sporadically in her indignation. She was surprised, however, to hear her master’s labored breathing inside her head.

That took…too much…energy…mustn’t…do that…again…

A small smile crept across Rhavyn’s face; she now knew a limit to her master’s control.

Movement at the edge of her vision attracted her gaze. Apparently, the effects of the drug had worn off enough for Micah to regain his sanity. Hissing in annoyance, Rhavyn moved in the direction opposite Micah, mirroring him. As they moved, both of them slowly and steadily closed the distance between them.

It was Micah who struck first.

Leaping forward, he swept his leg out and landed a blow against Rhavyn’ shin. Wincing, Rhavyn dropped to one knee, pain shooting up her leg. Micah dove in for the kill, electricity arcing violently across the Thunderfist. Gritting her teeth against the pain, Rhavyn pushed herself off the ground, wings straining to lift her into the air. The Thunderfist missed her by inches, and she gained altitude, eager to put distance between herself and that infernal machine.

On the ground, Micah ranted, shaking his bare fist up at Rhavyn. “Don’t think you can escape Azrael’s judgement, harpy! My Thunderfist will find your heart, sooner or later!”

Anger flashed in Rhavyn’s yellow eyes. “I am no harpy!”

Folding her midnight wings against her back, Rhavyn plummeted like a rock toward Micah. She swept her wings out just before she reached him, soaring over his head, and she continued to wheel overhead, distracting Micah from what was really happening. The Rhavyn in the sky was in actuality only a shadow of the real one. Rhavyn had created the clone just as she had spread her wings and had immediately teleported to the ground, shielded from Micah’s view by her clone.

Now, with the flying shadow of Rhavyn holding Micah’s attention, the real Rhavyn carefully stalked the unsuspecting half-angel, meticulously weaving strands of Shadow energy onto the ground around Micah’s feet. When she felt she was close enough, Rhavyn made her clone descend in front of Micah. Raising an eyebrow, the half-angel addressed what he believed was Rhavyn.

“So, you’ve decided to accept your fate, have you?”

Rhavyn smiled behind Micah’s back and spoke, channeling Shadow energy as she did.

“Not quite.”

Startled, Micah whirled to face the voice, but his feet became entangled in the tendrils of shadow that had suddenly snapped taut. He began falling toward the ground and flung out a hand to stop himself. Too late, he realized that the hand he’d used to halt his fall was wearing the Thunderfist.

As the electrified glove met the ground, it discharged for a second time, flinging Micah back a few paces. Rhavyn merely stood and watched the half-angel with a calculating stare.

Two down, and one to go.

Micah knew he couldn't risk wasting his last discharge; without any electricity he would be, for the most part, defenseless against the beast woman. The violent explosion of lightning that ensued from his last discharge had thrown him loose from the shadow tendril's grasp and onto the moist, sweet-smelling grass.

He sat up and adjusted the lever on his weapon, bringing the power down to one third. It was enough to painfully stun and drop an enemy to the ground, but not near enough to kill. The light on the wristguard waned from blood red to a pale pink.

"Charon will be glad to throw your body across the river into the Red Castle," Micah uttered as he rose to his feet. Rhavyn didn't seem to care. She watched the half-angel wipe a few blades of wet grass off the white fabric of his uniform.

Another dose of steroid would be risky, for the dementia that followed would surely incapacitate him if he failed his kill. Besides, he still had a few tricks left; being a half-angel had some benefits, after all.

"Open the gate..." he said. The grass danced around him in a circular pattern, and he raised his Thunderfist high above his head, reaching to the starry sky. "Open the gates to my Hell!" Micah yelled. A sizzling arc of lightning shot down from the cool, glowing moon and into his Thunderfist. He thrust his hand outwards and a ray of holy light shined forth and bathed Rhavyn. Her body shrunk and hid, but it was her master inside that was shrieking, not her. When the light had vanished, it was too late for her to react. Micah's weapon connected directly with the back of her neck.

The charge bit into her spinal cord and smashed her brain like a sledgehammer. She blacked out instantly.

A field of glowing, golden wheat. The charge was frying her mind.

Where was she? She looked around frantically, but there was only wheat to be found, stretching to the borders of the world to infinity. She glanced down and found her body was completely naked. She wore no manacles or shackles; in fact, any sign of her master was nowhere to be seen. She felt free. A warm breeze flowed all around her body, filling her with a comforting, pleasant feeling.

The wheat paled somewhat, and then it instantly became nightfall.

Then the sun rose again.

Then it fell. Over and over, faster and faster, sunrise and sunset. Rhavyn then collapsed to her knees and found the mystical shackles binding her neck and hands.

The wheat disappeared. There was nothing but blackness left.

"You damn whore of a girl! You will never, ever escape my clutches! NEVER!"

It was her master's voice, but she couldn't see him anywhere. He was within her mind.

"SHUT UP! You're NO master!" Rhavyn screamed violently into the ground. She didn't care if she was defying the domineering voice in her mind.

Everything faded, and when she woke up, she was fully wrapped in her black clothes and lying in the moist grass. Her neck was sore and stung with a sensation like that of sunburn. When she moved her head, her brain seemed to rattle around painfully inside of it.

"Why'd I let a jezzie like you live? Shouldn't I have pounded you to Hell when you were down?"

Micah kneeled down beside her and put his unarmed hand on her shoulder. He had deactivated the Thunderfist, and pressed the barrels of the now armed Spineshank against her back. Rhavyn was in too much pain to attack him. She just laid there in the grass, breathing heavily.

"To tell you the truth, I was about to pulverize your pretty little face, when you screamed something wild about 'master.'" Micah held Rhavyn's chin and pulled her face towards him. His ruby eyes pierced into hers with little emotion.

"Who's this demon you speak of, witch?"

Rhavyn stared into Micah’s ruby eyes, trembling. It was not out of fear, however. For a few precious seconds, she had been free. Whether that had been reality or some kind of dream, she didn’t know. But something this half-angel had done had briefly released her from her master’s control. Maybe, he could do it again, and maybe next time, it would be permanent.

Rhavyn sighed and closed her eyes; Micah’s palm felt cool against her chin, and the Spineshank still pressed against her back. “I am not a witch, and I am not a demon. Nor am I any of those other hateful names you’ve branded me with. I am an Avarite, not some foul creature out of Hell. My story is filled with sorrow, slavery, and murder, if you’d care to take time to listen to it.”

Rhavyn opened her mouth to say more then thought of another way to explain better. With her eyes still closed, Rhavyn concentrated on those memories she had buried so deep within herself so long ago. The air surrounding the both of them shimmered and contorted until Micah found himself in what appeared to be a cellar or basement of sorts. Rhavyn was no where to be found.

Micah was in the middle of mentally berating himself about how he should have slain the bird woman when he’d had the chance, when he heard Rhavyn’s voice.

“Do not be alarmed. You are seeing what happened to me all those millennia ago, the parts that I can remember, anyway. Just relax and watch.”

Micah inclined his head slightly, unblinking, and surrendered to the memory.

* * * * *

She wandered down into the basement of the massive mansion. On one of the walls, something caught her eye. Silvery writing was slowly beginning to emerge from the stones. Rhavyn, fascinated, watched the writing as it slithered across the stones. When it was finished, Rhavyn read, her eyes growing ever larger as she went.

“Whosoever reads this will have supreme power if only he or she will perform the ritual inscribed below.”

Rhavyn’s eyes shifted downward and skimmed the ritual. Swiftly, she gathered up the necessary objects, including a long, shining, ornate dagger and a jewel-encrusted dish. Heading back down to the basement, Rhavyn performed the ritual to the letter, finishing by slitting her palms and letting the blood drip into the dish she had procured. The moment the blood splashed into the dish, she heard a maniacal, triumphant laugh and lost consciousness.

When she awoke, she was no longer herself. She had a menacing air about her, and she didn’t seem to remember who she was before. A voice suddenly echoed inside her head, and she jumped a bit in surprise.

“How do you feel, my pretty one. Can’t seem to remember your name, can you? Your name is Rhavyn, and you are MINE!”

A plain, sliver collar immediately encircled her neck, and matching silver manacles encircled both her wrists. Against her will, Rhavyn suddenly slammed into a wall. She was then picked up and thrown into the ceiling. After being held there for a few moments, she plummeted to the floor. The voice cackled incessantly inside her head. Furiously, Rhavyn attempted to tear the manacles and collar off but to no avail. The laughter crescendoed to a fever pitch.

“Give it up, Rhavyn! You can never escape me. You will do as you’re told to do, or you will suffer the consequences of disobedience! Now, take your weapon and destroy the entire Avarite nation!”

A deadly looking glaive materialized in the air beside Rhavyn. A dark power emanated from it as Rhavyn took it within her grasp. Abandoning herself to her master’s will, she set out to unleash her fury upon the Avarite nation. The voice laughed again.

“Yes, go and destroy your people…descendent of Gallain!”

* * * * *

The fading words suddenly triggered something in Rhavyn’s memory. The histories of the Avarite nation she had read as a child had all told of the great hero Gallain, who had ended the bloody civil war by slaying the infamous Avarite…

“Nathelyk!”

The memory shattered, revealing Micah’s original surroundings. Rhavyn crouched nearby with a triumphant light gleaming in her eyes.

“That is your name, isn’t it? Isn’t it, Nathelyk?”

Something between a scream and a roar pounded at Rhavyn’s brain, and wind suddenly blew from nowhere, lashing at both her and Micah. And all the while, that triumphant light never left her eyes.

Just as soon as it had come, Nathelyk’s tantrum ended. Silence reigned over the scene until his maniacal cackle broke it.

So? You know my name now, do you? It won’t do you any good, wench! You’re still mine! My name will gain you nothing if you don’t know your own! But don’t think you’ve evaded my anger!

Light flashed furiously across Rhavyn’s manacles and collar, and she was tossed into the air as if by an invisible hand. With a very audible crunch, Rhavyn’s body collided with the ground, raising a thin cloud of dust. She emitted a soft groan before slipping into a state of unconsciousness.

Micah adjusted the three knobs on the Spineshank, carefully setting the distance and shock values. "A posessed one..." he thought to himself while he connected the anodes and cathodes to the power cell on his belt. "But... I'm no exorcist. They both must die."

He walked cautiously to the motionless female body that had smashed against the moonlit grass just moments ago. Her wings seemed so wrangled; her face seemed... so pale. The only thing that seemed to still have life on her body were the shimmering manacles. Everything else, from her blackened hair to her glorious talons, seemed so dead. No sign of life did flicker in her eyes. She didn't seem to be breathing.

Micah raised the Spineshank to line the sights directly at her chest. He knew now she wasn't an evil witch, a demon, or a harpy after all. She was just an innocent girl.

"It is not within my power to rid the unclean wraith in your body," he said sorrowfully. "God will have mercy upon you, girl, but the demon within shall descend to the darkest depths of Cocytus and be gnawed upon by the Formless One... forever!"

A silent talon stretched out and lacerated Micah's leg. The half-angel screamed.

Rhavyn's massive -and quite tattered- wings rocketed her to her feet. A demonic soul glowed in her eyes, and her voice: it was backwards, and that of a man. Micah could not understand it.

A gush of blood sprang from Micah's leg. The half angel leaped backwards and quickly pulled a vial from his belt. He jammed it into his thigh, administering a congealing chemical into his veins. The wound would stop bleeding, for now.

Rhavyn's mouth moved slightly. She no longer spoke backwards, but still roared with a man's tone. "Run, you God damned angel! Run or I'll throw your tattered carcass into the Mud of Ascheron! You'll lament, you'll weep, screaming girl!" The voice pulsed with masculine anger. "I'll never be satisfied until I pull the heart from your chest and devour it!"

Micah raised his gun.

"Satisfaction is the death of desire."

The three tethered metal hornets screamed from the barrels and punctured Rhavyn's stomach. Micah wouldn't allow the bridge to break this time; his index finger swiftly pulled the second trigger. A light flashed, an electronic screech broke out across the wires, and Azrael's judgment charged into Rhavyn.

ooc: ugh. That wasn't a good post. :S I could have made it quite a bit longer.

Just as the thunder reached Rhavyn’s body, it was met by a spherical aura of shadow. For a few minutes, the thunder struggled against the shadow, attempting to break through the magical barrier. The two forces seemed so closely matched in power that a stalemate was reached, resulting in a massive explosion that tossed both Rhavyn and Micah in opposite directions.

When the smoke and dust had cleared, Micah scrambled to his feet, searching for Rhavyn, and found her lying on the ground in a disheveled heap, her tattered wings bent at excruciatingly odd angles. A very brief look of sympathy flashed across Micah’s face for the innocent woman, but he soon collected himself and moved cautiously over to Rhavyn.

Micah’s motion caused Rhavyn’s master to panic. Thinking the half-angel was moving in for the kill, Nathelyk decided to do something he had never done before. A red-flecked, shadowy miasma permeated the air surrounding Rhavyn, wrapping her in its embrace. Micah took a step backward, shying away from the malevolent fog.

With a hiss, the vapors dissipated, revealing a figure that had not been present a few moments ago. He crouched over Rhavyn’s body protectively, talons extended and monstrous black wings unfurled. His short, silver-streaked, black hair caught the breeze and shimmered. This was Nathelyk’s earthly form, the Avarite he had once been. He fixed Micah with his piercing stare, and Micah stared levelly back at him, red eyes meeting red eyes.

With an ear-splitting roar, Nathelyk shot into the sky, silver light appearing around his hands. Two orbs of brilliant Lunar energy shot downward at Micah, but the half-angel was able to roll out of the way, coming to his feet ready for Nathelyk’s next attack. With pure vehemence burning in his eyes, Nathelyk spoke.

“You will never again see the light of day! You should never have provoked me!”

Spreading his huge, feathery wings, Nathelyk shot down in a dive straight at the waiting Micah.

Nathelyk dived at Micah, with talons poised like a giant raptor, wings pulled neatly behind his back, and vehement rage in his eyes. Micah stepped back once and quickly slid his hand over his belt. He seemed to grab or activate nothing.

The nefarious avarite stretched his claws out to impale the angel, however, Micah rolled to the side. A soft sound of metal sliding against metal emanated from Micah's hand and a blade flashed in the moonlight, along with a glistening arc of red blood squirting from Nathelek's side. Micah stepped back and stabbed Nathelek again straight through the heart.

Micah was holding a small, silver cross with a thin blade protruding from the short end. A secret weapon hidden in a false pocket of his uniform, used as a last resort when power was depleted. The blade had been baptized and blessed in the holiest of all places, the Holy Sepulcher. Micah growled and pushed Nathelyk away from him; the avarite stumbled and fell to the ground.

"I've got one more trick for ye, my friend," Micah said. He pulled a long silver chain from his neck, retrieving it from under his white uniform. Attached to the end of the chain was a long, silver spike, etched with many Hebrew characters. Micah loomed over Nathelyk, who was shivering sporadically and gushing blood out his wound. He wasn't used to his mortal body.

"Azrael sends ye."

Micah stabbed the silver spike into the puncture wound over Nathelyk's heart. Nathelyk screamed vociferously as Micah pounded the stake into his flesh with the palm of the Thunderfist. Nathelyk reared his head back and spat a wad of congealed blood into the air, which was followed by a trail of pinkish saliva oozing from his mouth.

The half angel rose; he said nothing. He turned and walked away from the staked Nathelyk, sure in his mind that his work was done.

Micah kneeled beside Rhavyn's body and placed two fingers on the underside of her neck; a faint pulse wisped through her vein. He rested his fingers against the warm, soft flesh of her jowls. His palm soon met her neck and he found himself slowly massaging the tender skin which kneaded softly into his hand like milky dough. Micah ignored any thoughts that entered his mine and stayed in an indulging dimension all to himself; it had been so long since he had touched anyone in this manner.

Rhavyn's eyes slowly opened; she suddenly bolted up and screamed. Micah's eyes bulged out as Nathelyk drove the silver spike into the half-angel's back.

Rhavyn stared in horror, her eyes widening in fear, as Nathelyk cruelly ripped the silver stake out of Micah’s body, and she sat bolt upright. Micah fell forward onto her lap and lay there, unmoving. She couldn’t believe what was happening. Nathelyk stood in front of her with a strange and frightening look gleaming in his eyes.

“You thought the angel could help you escape me, did you? Well, your plan has failed. He was no match for my power.” Pain suddenly contorted his face from the still-fresh wound Micah had inflicted. “Ah! Curse this earthly shell I’m in!”

A shadowy mist began to emanate from Nathelyk’s body as he shed his earthly form. His hair grew much longer and turned a silvery color, and his eyes turned the same color. Rhavyn could feel his magical energy skyrocket, and pure terror coursed through her body. All the stories she’d heard as a child about Nathelyk had been used to frighten her into proper behavior, and every last one of them was true.

His transformation complete, Nathelyk directed his gaze back toward Rhavyn, and she flinched underneath his piercing stare. His eyes held the look of a wild animal, one that had just spotted prey and would do anything to get it. It was as if he had just seen Rhavyn for the first time. He moved closer to her slowly, a lustful air radiating from him. Rhavyn was paralyzed, held fast by Nathelyk’s stare. She gripped part of Micah’s uniform, hoping against hope that the angel would miraculously awake to save her. The feel of her glaive would have felt very reassuring in her hands right then.

Without taking his eyes from Rhavyn’s, Nathelyk bent down and grabbed Micah’s limp body, tossing it to the side. He sheathed his talons and cupped Rhavyn’s chin gently in his hand. Grabbing her arm with his other hand, Nathelyk pulled Rhavyn to her feet, clearly against her will. He brushed a strand of her dark hair out of her yellow eyes and spoke in a low, seductive voice.

“I’ve never noticed how…beautiful you are.”

Rhavyn could do nothing; she was held in place by Nathelyk’s voice and his touch. She wanted to scream, to strike him across the face and flee. But strangely…more than anything, she wanted Micah to live. Her eyes shifted ever so slightly to Micah’s still form on the ground. A breeze stirred in his hair, sweeping it across his face, and Rhavyn thought she had never seen someone as attractive as he was in that moment. With resolve welling up within her, Rhavyn returned her gaze to Nathelyk. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes, in preparation for her speech.

“I—”

Before she could get even a phrase out, Nathelyk bent down and enclosed his mouth over hers. Surprise overcame Rhavyn, not from the kiss so much as from how she reacted to it. She found herself enjoying it and leaning in closer, pushing her lips harder into his. A growl of pleasure issued from Nathelyk, and he began to gently massage Rhavyn’s back and shoulders.

Suddenly, Rhavyn realized what she was doing and swiftly pushed herself away from Nathelyk. A look of disappointment crossed his face, and before he could speak a word of protest, Rhavyn spoke, tears streaming from eyes that were flashing with fury.

“I hate you.”

The words hit Nathelyk better than any slap could have. He faltered for a few brief moments but soon regained his composure. “Heh, it doesn’t matter what you think of me. There is no escape for you, my little pet, so you’re just going to have to face facts and deal with it.”

“I HATE you!”

Quivering with anger, Rhavyn took several steps away from the menacing Avarite. Nathelyk grinned wolfishly but did not use the manacles to pull her back. Rhavyn clenched and unclenched her fists repeatedly.

“I don’t want anyone else to die because of me, because of my mistake. I’m through with being a slave to you! I refuse to be your little killing machine, anymore. I hate killing for you, and I hate you!”

With indignation burning in her eyes, Rhavyn summoned up every ounce of power she could muster. A silver aura surrounded her, accentuating her features. Nathelyk merely stood there, arms folded across his chest and a mocking smile plastered across his face. To his surprise, Rhavyn’s anger-fueled Lunar energy attack slammed into him with ferocious tenacity. He was thrown several yards away and landed on the grassy ground with a loud thud, momentarily stunned.

Swiftly, Rhavyn rushed to Micah’s side, and to her relief, he was still breathing. She remembered a healing spell that, ironically, Nathelyk had taught her many, many years ago. Concentrating, Rhavyn shaped the raw Lunar energy into minute threads of power which she wove throughout the wounded angel’s body. Praying fervently to any and all the gods she could think of, Rhavyn finished her weaving and sat back to watch Micah’s flesh seemingly repair itself. She sighed in relief; the blood was staunched, and Micah was as good as new.

Rhavyn cradled Micah’s head in her lap and gentled stroked his head, waiting for him to awake. Finally, he stirred and opened his eyes slowly, staring up into Rhavyn’s smiling face. A look of utter confusion covered his face, but before he could ask what had happened, Rhavyn shook her head, forestalling any questions. Micah’s eyes happened to wander behind Rhavyn and he noticed Nathelyk, still quite alive, pushing himself to his feet. It seemed their brief moment of respite was at an end.

"I see he's still alive..." Micah said, looking up at the winged girl who was holding his head. She nodded in reply.

"Can you distract him for just a minute?" Micah said again. "I won't need long..."

Rhavyn nodded again. "I can give you as long as you wish."

Micah bolted up to his feet and suddenly took off running across the deep green grass, holding the bladed silver cross in his hand. Nathelyk's eyes slowly followed him; he took one step in Micah's direction and then stopped. Rhavyn cut into Nathelyk's chest with her talons, driving the seemingly bladed claws deep into his skin.

"Just thorns..." Nathelyk said, prying her talons out of himself. The blood seeped back into his wounds which then closed back together. "Where'd your little friend go?"

Rhavyn didn't answer. She lunged her claws at his face, but Nathelyk's hand caught her by the wrist. He twisted her arm to the side, causing her to shriek painfully. His overpowering hand pulled her arm behind her, and pinned her back against his chest.

Nathelyk leaned over her shoulder and whispered to her. "First I'll rape you, then I'll let you decide if you want to die or stay my servant. Then, I'll go kill that girl-man who keeps pulling tricks out of a hat like some traveling magician."

The girl squirmed, but she knew she couldn't free herself from the malefic avarite's clutches. Besides, even if she could manage to escape, he'd track her and Micah down and kill them both. But she couldn't give in, she just couldn't.

Nathelyk squeezed her closer to his body, running his fingers all along her stomach and slowly suckling on the back of her neck. She felt so... embarrassed, like the moon was glaring down upon her disapprovingly.

"You're going to like this... trust me, wench. You're going to squirm in pleasure soon." His hands pushed harshly against her chest, gripping firmly. Rhavyn clenched her eyes shut; a tiny tear dripped from each of her wet, black eyelashes. How could something like this be happening to her?

Suddenly, something slipped through the grass.

"You... sick..."

The sharp, cursed blade of Rhavyn's broken glaive sliced clean through Nathelyk's neck, cleaving his head off his shoulders. Strands of bisected white hair fluttered in the moonlight, and a pillar of blood rose from the bloody stump. Nathelyk's arms unfolded from around the helpless girl and his decapitated body fell to the ground.

Rhavyn stared in wide-eyed disbelief at the decapitated Nathelyk, and then at Micah, who stood in silence holding the bladed portion of her glaive. Shaking off her shock, Rhavyn began to smile. She was finally free of that cursed Avarite she had called master.

To her dismay, however, Nathelyk’s body began to pulsate with shadow-tinged Lunar energy. Both she and Micah backed away from the corpse, which was now writhing back and forth along the ground. A sinuous form issued from the body and hovered in the air, shifting constantly. When a voice emanated from it, the shapeless mass of energy pulsed with every syllable.

“You fools! Nothing can destroy me! I am the immortal and all-powerful ruler of the moon!”

“Huh. Some ruler you are.”

Nathelyk’s spirit roared at Micah. “I’ll see you ripped to shreds and thrown into the deepest circle of hell! You’ll never see even a glimmer of light ever again!”

“I’d like to see you try, you lap-dog of Lucifer.”

With a cry of outrage, Nathelyk’s spirit surged in Rhavyn’s direction and melted into her body. Her silver collar and manacles glowed with a light brighter than they ever had before. Intense pain coursed through Rhavyn’s body, and she convulsed in agony. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she whispered to herself.

“I was free. How can this be happening?”

Nathelyk screamed into her head. “Shut up, wench!”

No longer in control of her own body, Rhavyn fell to all fours, pain still tearing through her. Micah took a step toward her but got no farther before Nathelyk’s voice pounded through his head.

“Worried about your friend? All the love in the universe can’t save her, now. No matter how much you care about her, you will never be able to have her. Rhavyn is mine, now and for all eternity!”

The part of Rhavyn’s glaive that Micah still gripped suddenly dissipated in a wisp of shadow and rematerialized beside the writhing Rhavyn along with the other half. One moment, the weapon was split, and the next, it was whole again. Unable to stop herself, Rhavyn picked the glaive up and stood to her feet, fresh streaks forming on her already tear-stained face.

Her wings unfurled, and Rhavyn shot toward Micah, glaive poised and ready to strike. Desperately, Rhavyn shouted at the angel.

"Move, now!"

The slicing glaive missed Micah by a hairsbreadth, but Rhavyn gave chase even as Micah fled. She possessed superior speed and maneuverability, and Micah slowly began to tire. With no control over her actions, it was only a matter of time before Rhavyn’s glaive would connect with Micah’s neck.

There has to be some way I can stop this! Think, Rhavyn, think!

The ends of a few of Micah’s hairs were sliced by the blade of the glaive.

Wait! If I can remember my real name…

Blood flowed from a gash in Micah’s arm.

I’ve got to remember! What is it? What is it?

Micah’s kneecap cracked as Rhavyn slammed the haft of her glaive into it.

I’m running out of time! Oh, someone, please help me!

Light suddenly burst inside her head, and memories she had forgotten she had flooded back to her. Everything was there; it was as if an entire part of her that had been missing was restored. But the most vital recollection was her real name.

“I am Rhianna.”

Nathelyk’s screech pierced the surrounding air like a bullet. His spirit was violently ejected from Rhianna’s body in a flurry of light. The collar and manacles shattered into myriad tiny fragments, and when Rhianna saw this, a new-found boldness came over her.

“That’s right, Nathelyk. You no longer have any power over me. My true name is Rhianna!”

Howls of anguish filled the night as Nathelyk’s spirit contorted and slowly began to shrink. Rhianna swayed with exhaustion and fell to the ground, losing consciousness even as the last of Nathelyk was wiped from the universe.

Micah collapsed to his knees beside Rhianna's battered body; his knee and arm were pulsing with terrible pain and still oozing blood. He pulled a heavy latch on the Thunderfist, causing it to pop into two pieces and slide off his hand.

"Wake up..." he said to Rhianna, lightly touching the side of her face. She didn't stir, but her chest slowly rose and fell. Rhianna breathed softly upon Micah's cheek...

"Wake up... I can't walk... wake up..." Micah repeated over and over, nudging the girl at the same time. His kneecap was shattered in two, so there was no way he could get back up on his legs. When would Rhianna wake up? How long could he last with his untreated wounds? Micah began to feel faint as his strength left with the blood oozing from his injuries. He swooned beside the sleeping girl and blacked out.

*****

"Wake up..."

All the half-angel could see was blackness. His entire body felt numb and cold, bruised and tattered. The voice he heard was Rhianna's, and it took all his strength to reply to her.

"I don't see anything..."

"You're still in shock... your eyes won't open, will they?"

"No... what happened..."

"You... almost died, Micah...."

They both paused in their speech. Micah could hear her moving around beside him in the grass.

"Is it day...? I feel cold..."

He felt a smooth hand brush across his bare chest.

"I... used your shirt as a bandage for your arm... and yes, it's daylight. You've been asleep for hours.... Micah..." she paused for a minute. "Thank you..."

Rhianna's warm lips press against his mouth, fully open and thankful. Everything seemed to feel less cold and painful for him; his eyes slowly opened to see the beautiful black-haired girl sweetly kissing him.

She slowly pulled away from him to see he was now awake. Rhianna blushed, thinking about what she had just done.

"I'll help you up..." she said, but was cut off.

"No." said Micah. "Let's just stay here." He then embraced her to returned the kiss she had given him. Rhianna's hands felt hot yet smooth on his freezing back. Her warmth was all he needed to comfort his wounds.

"I'm glad I missed that first shot... Rhianna." Micah said.

They both smiled compassionately and fell asleep, entwined in each others arms.

ooc: Ta-da! :3 Thank you for a wonderful battle. T'was great, indeed.