Post by Sammael on May 9, 2014 22:07:13 GMT -8
Elezar took the corner into the alley at full speed, his foot landed on a bag of garbage, and he slid into the wall, hard. His breath rushed out of him, and black spots danced in front of his eyes. He sucked in air like a beached fish, and pushed himself away from the wall. He didn't even risk a look back to see if they were gaining. He could see the red creeping in at the edges of his vision, and he didn't want to be out in the open when it was all he could see.
He hit the end of the alley at a sprint, and without dropping a stride leapt across the three lanes of traffic and landed on the sidewalk at the mouth of the next alley. He was only two blocks away from the safe house, and he needed to lose them before he lost it and started killing people, or worse, got captured. As soon as he was out of sight, down the mouth of the alley, he jumped and landed on the second platform of an ancient fire escape. With a grunt he dove up and across the alley into an open window two stories higher. He heard a scream as his shoulders caught the frame, and shattered the window, startling the apartments owner.
He mumbled an apology as he got back to his feet and sprinted through the apartment, and slammed through the triple locked door into the hallway. It was cramped, but if he ducked a bit as he ran, he could almost maintain his normal stride. He dove out of the window at the end of the hallway, and slammed into the side of the adjacent building. His fingertips clawed for purchase on the brickwork, and for a moment he thought he might be able to jump again. Gravity had other thoughts on the subject. Skin and blood in a streak halfway down the wall seemed to indicate that gravity had won the argument.
Hunkered down in the trash filled alley, his fingers curled up gingerly, Elezar saw red. It flowed from his fingertips, and down into his palms, tracing tiny crimson lines down his bare forearms. He watched as the first drops splattered across his bare feet, toes also mangled and bloody. There was only a small section of his field of view that wasn't tinged red now...a tiny spot in the center of his focal point, where other colors still existed. It would be gone soon, and this time he wouldn't be locked in the rageroom of one of the safe houses.
There was a creaking squeaking grinding noise. He tasted blood, and realized he was grinding his teeth, and had bitten his jaw. The blood slid down his throat, and his tiny aperture into the world of colors and sanity snapped shut, painting the world red. Footsteps. He stood and turned, grinning madly. They had arrived, but, oh would they regret it.
They seemed to flicker. He knew what they were from the old stories. One of them might even be his father, come to correct his mistake. "I thought you'd be bigger," he snarled, leaping headlong at the closest one. His arms wrapped around the Angel and they both hit the ground. Elezar slammed his head down into the bridge of the Angels nose, and rolled over swiftly, he was on his feet again in seconds, still holding the Angel he had tackled in his right hand. One down three to go.
They split apart, and circled him, placing themselves at equidistant points, making sure that no matter which direction he faced, one would always be out of his sight. He smirked, and threw the unconscious Angel at the one to his left, before spinning into a kick leveled at the head of the one behind him. He heard a grunt as the Angel connected with his compatriot, and felt a jawbone snap against the sensitive skin in the arch of this foot. Planting his feet firmly, he glared at the last standing Angel. "Have you no shame? Have you no pride?! You bring four to kill me, and you don't even deign me worthy of your true form, or your divine weapons?"
With a roar of incoherent rage, he swung his massive fist at the smirking Angels head and shoulders. He felt the faintest touch of hair tickling his knuckles, and the light pressure of a nose tip brushing against his fingers, before his hand went flying back past his face, a glorious arc of blood fanning and spraying beautifully in its wake. It took him a good five seconds to feel the pain, and when it hit, it hit hard. He staggered, and roared, mesmerized by the blood shooting up out of his stump of a wrist.
The Angel walked forward, flaming sword in one hand and the giants hand held gingerly by a finger in the other. "Be careful what you wish for, halfbreed," he chimed in a melodic almost orchestral voice. "The Nephilim of old would be ashamed to call you kin," he observed. "They were far more vicious, and implacable. One could almost say they were driven to destroy. They sacked countries, and pillaged murdered and raped their way across nations. You couldn't even make it 2 blocks." The sword in his hand flared brightly, as he raised it for the final blow.
Sammael sat in his newest penthouse, his tie loosened, and his suit jacket rumpled and unbuttoned. His feet, as always sheathed in the finest leather, rested on the mirror polished finish of the massive desk that dominated the center of the room. Elezar lay chained before him, his massive size taking up the rest of the office space.
Sammael sighed, and took another sip of wine before sighing again. A year or more ago, and he would have lost his mind at a revelation of this magnitude, especially with it coming as it did, in the middle of dinner. The Fallen had conceived and brought forth the Nephilim once more. Somehow this had been hidden from himself, and his spies for quite a long time. This one chained to the floor was at least 18, and had easily injured three of the Fallen, two of whom had been personally trained by Lucifer before the fall. Ah, well, arrogance can be as big a weakness as lack of training, under the right circumstances.
"What is your name, child?" A twitch of his lip and a tightening around the eyes betraying his true feelings, in spite of his genial tone. The Nephilim in the floor struggled for a moment, and rose to his knees. His head remained bowed, blood dripping from a split lip, cut cheekbone, and his stump of a wrist into the fibers of the previously immaculate white carpet. Sammael waited patiently as the giant gathered himself, ignoring the blood, and the dirt and the grime. He slid his feet off of the desk, and sat up languorously, stretching like a cat. Leaning forward and placing his elbows on his desk, he looked over his steepled fingers and tsk'ed.
"My dear boy, look at the state of you," a picture of compassion, a thin veneer, masking the rage and contempt that now comprised Sammaels existence. "Help him up," his teeth seemed to glow in the bright office light, his smile a mile wide. The Nephilim stood unsteadily, his left leg clearly injured, his pants stuck to his thigh by copious amounts of blood. He refused to raise his head, keeping his eyes pinned to the floor. Perhaps he thought if he didn't look at anyone in the room they would vanish like the figments of his imagination that he wished they were.
"Now, I do believe I asked you a question, and you are being quite rude," the veneer crumbled? "What. Is. Your. Name?" Feral animals had growled more menacingly, but not many. He stood and tore through the layers of reality. When he reached his full height he fully embodied the thousand eyed Angel of Death. His aura flared red as he swept the massive marble topped desk across the room with his left hand, and flared his wings dramatically. The Nephilim finally deigned to look up from the floor. His eyes widened.
"E...E...Elezar," he stammered, as he tried to backpedal. The chains held fast and soon Sammael was standing In front of him, inches away. His wings began to flap slowly, bringing him up to hover with his eyeless face directly in front of Elezar. "Elezar, Son of Mayrenne, Mothe..." He gagged and kicked his feet, which he suddenly realized were no longer touching the floor. The ceilings in this penthouse were incredibly high he realized, a sudden clarity coming over him as he tried to reassess his situation.
Sammael clenched his hand, feeling the tendons in Elezars throat stretch and start to separate under his finger tips. He felt his Adam's apple bob in his hand, an odd sensation to feel through the closed eye embedded in his palm, but not one he hadn't felt before. He pulled the Nephilim forward until his forehead was resting against his own. "Elezar, I'm only going to ask you this once. How many Nephilim exist in my city?"
His feet still kicking weakly, Elezar sputtered and choked. He mustered up all of his remaining strength, and spit blood into Sammaels face. He didn't even feel the shift. One minute he was hanging from the grasp of the demented Arch Demon, and the next, he was covered in chunks of broken glass. He twisted, trying to get his bearings. He was falling. 'That dirty son of a bitch threw me out the window,' he had time to think before the pavement crushed his skull and forced his head up into his ribcage.
Sammael alit lightly next to the still massive but significantly crushed and crumpled body. He walked forward slowly, wiping bloody spittle off of his face with the back of his hand. His bloody hand slid tenderly along the line of the giants shoulder, as he intoned the words of calling and pulled the soul out of the abomination at his feet. "I warned you, I would ask you only once. Now, you will tell me how many of your brothers are hiding in my city, and if you're lucky I'll tell the pit wurm that comes to retrieve you to be gentle."
Looking at his broken body Elezar felt a sob rising from somewhere deep inside, but he clamped his mouth shut, and swallowed his misery. He raised his eyes and glared into Sammaels face, the embodiment of hatred. "My brothers can rest easy tonight, knowing that I would never reveal their numbers or locations." He stood tall, and proud, his lips a thin line. Sammael watched him for a moment, and sighed. He snapped his fingers, and with a flap of his wings, shot up off of the pavement. A moment later he was in his penthouse.
Elezar stood in the street, looking at his body. He could hear the wail of sirens in the distance. People were beginning to gather. He tried to walk away, but found he couldn't lift his feet. They seemed to be pinned to the ground. The sirens were growing louder. He frowned. The noise seemed to be coming from everywhere at once. Suddenly, he realized what he was hearing. There were no sirens. He saw the pavement below his body split, and a cacophony of wailing nearly deafened him. The people gathering around his corpse didn't seem to notice. Clouds of smoke and sulphur assaulted his senses, burning his eyes and nose.
He gazed down into the abyss, drawn by a morbid curiosity. A large creature shot through the gap and past him, screeching as it went. It's serpentine body topped with a humanesque torso, leathery wings jutting from it's back propelling it up over him with frightening speed. He turned and tried to keep it in sight, but his feet were still rooted to the ground near his corpse. He felt it's breath on his neck, and it's hands grasping at his ethereal body. Before he knew what was happening, he was locked in the iron embrace of the creatures massive arms. He struggled, and it bit his side, hard. He screamed, a mixture of pain and terror, and felt the creature shudder, a gravely noise escaping it's razor fanged maw. It's laughter continued unabated as it dropped back into the abyss, willing it shut behind them. A cool breeze swept the street, and the group began to disperse.
Sliding back into his human form, Sammael walked past his shattered desk, motioning for his associates to follow him into the dining room. He slid into his chair at the table and picked up his knife. He sliced off an sliver of the meat on his plate, and speared it with his knife. "Canvass the area where you captured him, and spread out from there until you find me another one," he said around his mouthful of braised infant. "We will need them in the days to come, and I can't have them running about unaccounted for. You all know how they get when the hunger comes over them. We need to bring them in line before Azrael learns of their existence and tries to destroy them." He waved dismissively, and went back to his meal.
Just as they neared the door, he looked up. "Oh, and tell Havien I'll be needing some more of his whores bastards. The larder is running low." He said with a lopsided grin, juice running down his chin, and dripping onto the table.
He hit the end of the alley at a sprint, and without dropping a stride leapt across the three lanes of traffic and landed on the sidewalk at the mouth of the next alley. He was only two blocks away from the safe house, and he needed to lose them before he lost it and started killing people, or worse, got captured. As soon as he was out of sight, down the mouth of the alley, he jumped and landed on the second platform of an ancient fire escape. With a grunt he dove up and across the alley into an open window two stories higher. He heard a scream as his shoulders caught the frame, and shattered the window, startling the apartments owner.
He mumbled an apology as he got back to his feet and sprinted through the apartment, and slammed through the triple locked door into the hallway. It was cramped, but if he ducked a bit as he ran, he could almost maintain his normal stride. He dove out of the window at the end of the hallway, and slammed into the side of the adjacent building. His fingertips clawed for purchase on the brickwork, and for a moment he thought he might be able to jump again. Gravity had other thoughts on the subject. Skin and blood in a streak halfway down the wall seemed to indicate that gravity had won the argument.
Hunkered down in the trash filled alley, his fingers curled up gingerly, Elezar saw red. It flowed from his fingertips, and down into his palms, tracing tiny crimson lines down his bare forearms. He watched as the first drops splattered across his bare feet, toes also mangled and bloody. There was only a small section of his field of view that wasn't tinged red now...a tiny spot in the center of his focal point, where other colors still existed. It would be gone soon, and this time he wouldn't be locked in the rageroom of one of the safe houses.
There was a creaking squeaking grinding noise. He tasted blood, and realized he was grinding his teeth, and had bitten his jaw. The blood slid down his throat, and his tiny aperture into the world of colors and sanity snapped shut, painting the world red. Footsteps. He stood and turned, grinning madly. They had arrived, but, oh would they regret it.
They seemed to flicker. He knew what they were from the old stories. One of them might even be his father, come to correct his mistake. "I thought you'd be bigger," he snarled, leaping headlong at the closest one. His arms wrapped around the Angel and they both hit the ground. Elezar slammed his head down into the bridge of the Angels nose, and rolled over swiftly, he was on his feet again in seconds, still holding the Angel he had tackled in his right hand. One down three to go.
They split apart, and circled him, placing themselves at equidistant points, making sure that no matter which direction he faced, one would always be out of his sight. He smirked, and threw the unconscious Angel at the one to his left, before spinning into a kick leveled at the head of the one behind him. He heard a grunt as the Angel connected with his compatriot, and felt a jawbone snap against the sensitive skin in the arch of this foot. Planting his feet firmly, he glared at the last standing Angel. "Have you no shame? Have you no pride?! You bring four to kill me, and you don't even deign me worthy of your true form, or your divine weapons?"
With a roar of incoherent rage, he swung his massive fist at the smirking Angels head and shoulders. He felt the faintest touch of hair tickling his knuckles, and the light pressure of a nose tip brushing against his fingers, before his hand went flying back past his face, a glorious arc of blood fanning and spraying beautifully in its wake. It took him a good five seconds to feel the pain, and when it hit, it hit hard. He staggered, and roared, mesmerized by the blood shooting up out of his stump of a wrist.
The Angel walked forward, flaming sword in one hand and the giants hand held gingerly by a finger in the other. "Be careful what you wish for, halfbreed," he chimed in a melodic almost orchestral voice. "The Nephilim of old would be ashamed to call you kin," he observed. "They were far more vicious, and implacable. One could almost say they were driven to destroy. They sacked countries, and pillaged murdered and raped their way across nations. You couldn't even make it 2 blocks." The sword in his hand flared brightly, as he raised it for the final blow.
Sammael sat in his newest penthouse, his tie loosened, and his suit jacket rumpled and unbuttoned. His feet, as always sheathed in the finest leather, rested on the mirror polished finish of the massive desk that dominated the center of the room. Elezar lay chained before him, his massive size taking up the rest of the office space.
Sammael sighed, and took another sip of wine before sighing again. A year or more ago, and he would have lost his mind at a revelation of this magnitude, especially with it coming as it did, in the middle of dinner. The Fallen had conceived and brought forth the Nephilim once more. Somehow this had been hidden from himself, and his spies for quite a long time. This one chained to the floor was at least 18, and had easily injured three of the Fallen, two of whom had been personally trained by Lucifer before the fall. Ah, well, arrogance can be as big a weakness as lack of training, under the right circumstances.
"What is your name, child?" A twitch of his lip and a tightening around the eyes betraying his true feelings, in spite of his genial tone. The Nephilim in the floor struggled for a moment, and rose to his knees. His head remained bowed, blood dripping from a split lip, cut cheekbone, and his stump of a wrist into the fibers of the previously immaculate white carpet. Sammael waited patiently as the giant gathered himself, ignoring the blood, and the dirt and the grime. He slid his feet off of the desk, and sat up languorously, stretching like a cat. Leaning forward and placing his elbows on his desk, he looked over his steepled fingers and tsk'ed.
"My dear boy, look at the state of you," a picture of compassion, a thin veneer, masking the rage and contempt that now comprised Sammaels existence. "Help him up," his teeth seemed to glow in the bright office light, his smile a mile wide. The Nephilim stood unsteadily, his left leg clearly injured, his pants stuck to his thigh by copious amounts of blood. He refused to raise his head, keeping his eyes pinned to the floor. Perhaps he thought if he didn't look at anyone in the room they would vanish like the figments of his imagination that he wished they were.
"Now, I do believe I asked you a question, and you are being quite rude," the veneer crumbled? "What. Is. Your. Name?" Feral animals had growled more menacingly, but not many. He stood and tore through the layers of reality. When he reached his full height he fully embodied the thousand eyed Angel of Death. His aura flared red as he swept the massive marble topped desk across the room with his left hand, and flared his wings dramatically. The Nephilim finally deigned to look up from the floor. His eyes widened.
"E...E...Elezar," he stammered, as he tried to backpedal. The chains held fast and soon Sammael was standing In front of him, inches away. His wings began to flap slowly, bringing him up to hover with his eyeless face directly in front of Elezar. "Elezar, Son of Mayrenne, Mothe..." He gagged and kicked his feet, which he suddenly realized were no longer touching the floor. The ceilings in this penthouse were incredibly high he realized, a sudden clarity coming over him as he tried to reassess his situation.
Sammael clenched his hand, feeling the tendons in Elezars throat stretch and start to separate under his finger tips. He felt his Adam's apple bob in his hand, an odd sensation to feel through the closed eye embedded in his palm, but not one he hadn't felt before. He pulled the Nephilim forward until his forehead was resting against his own. "Elezar, I'm only going to ask you this once. How many Nephilim exist in my city?"
His feet still kicking weakly, Elezar sputtered and choked. He mustered up all of his remaining strength, and spit blood into Sammaels face. He didn't even feel the shift. One minute he was hanging from the grasp of the demented Arch Demon, and the next, he was covered in chunks of broken glass. He twisted, trying to get his bearings. He was falling. 'That dirty son of a bitch threw me out the window,' he had time to think before the pavement crushed his skull and forced his head up into his ribcage.
Sammael alit lightly next to the still massive but significantly crushed and crumpled body. He walked forward slowly, wiping bloody spittle off of his face with the back of his hand. His bloody hand slid tenderly along the line of the giants shoulder, as he intoned the words of calling and pulled the soul out of the abomination at his feet. "I warned you, I would ask you only once. Now, you will tell me how many of your brothers are hiding in my city, and if you're lucky I'll tell the pit wurm that comes to retrieve you to be gentle."
Looking at his broken body Elezar felt a sob rising from somewhere deep inside, but he clamped his mouth shut, and swallowed his misery. He raised his eyes and glared into Sammaels face, the embodiment of hatred. "My brothers can rest easy tonight, knowing that I would never reveal their numbers or locations." He stood tall, and proud, his lips a thin line. Sammael watched him for a moment, and sighed. He snapped his fingers, and with a flap of his wings, shot up off of the pavement. A moment later he was in his penthouse.
Elezar stood in the street, looking at his body. He could hear the wail of sirens in the distance. People were beginning to gather. He tried to walk away, but found he couldn't lift his feet. They seemed to be pinned to the ground. The sirens were growing louder. He frowned. The noise seemed to be coming from everywhere at once. Suddenly, he realized what he was hearing. There were no sirens. He saw the pavement below his body split, and a cacophony of wailing nearly deafened him. The people gathering around his corpse didn't seem to notice. Clouds of smoke and sulphur assaulted his senses, burning his eyes and nose.
He gazed down into the abyss, drawn by a morbid curiosity. A large creature shot through the gap and past him, screeching as it went. It's serpentine body topped with a humanesque torso, leathery wings jutting from it's back propelling it up over him with frightening speed. He turned and tried to keep it in sight, but his feet were still rooted to the ground near his corpse. He felt it's breath on his neck, and it's hands grasping at his ethereal body. Before he knew what was happening, he was locked in the iron embrace of the creatures massive arms. He struggled, and it bit his side, hard. He screamed, a mixture of pain and terror, and felt the creature shudder, a gravely noise escaping it's razor fanged maw. It's laughter continued unabated as it dropped back into the abyss, willing it shut behind them. A cool breeze swept the street, and the group began to disperse.
Sliding back into his human form, Sammael walked past his shattered desk, motioning for his associates to follow him into the dining room. He slid into his chair at the table and picked up his knife. He sliced off an sliver of the meat on his plate, and speared it with his knife. "Canvass the area where you captured him, and spread out from there until you find me another one," he said around his mouthful of braised infant. "We will need them in the days to come, and I can't have them running about unaccounted for. You all know how they get when the hunger comes over them. We need to bring them in line before Azrael learns of their existence and tries to destroy them." He waved dismissively, and went back to his meal.
Just as they neared the door, he looked up. "Oh, and tell Havien I'll be needing some more of his whores bastards. The larder is running low." He said with a lopsided grin, juice running down his chin, and dripping onto the table.
