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Post by Vyncent Schwarz on Feb 22, 2011 16:06:37 GMT -5
Unsurprisingly, Vyncent did not seem as enthralled by the pair of winged reptiles as his younger companion - he was much too introverted and arrogant for that. Dragons, he scoffed to himself. They might have been gods, or travellers through the planes of existence, and he'd have likely acted the same. His nonchalance, however, did not make the situation any less dangerous. He twisted Amor in the air, almost as if to test the blade's opinion of their scaly opponents. The ebon rapier replied with a thrum of power, a mournful harmony of voices.
Did dragons have souls for the taking? Vyncent wondered. Would he be able to procure their benefit like some silver-haired grim reaper, some highwayman who roved mountainsides instead of roads?
Only one way to find out.
The High Demon uttered a quiet curse as the dragon landed, a sound completely muted by the scrape of disturbed pebbles, the spray of gravel hitting their cloaks - or in Vyncent's case, his coat. When he opened his eyes and peered through the murky dust, the colossal size of the dragon had all but filled his vision. He could make out Altair somewhere next to him, crab-walking to stand himself next to the other demon so he didn't have to turn his back on the creature that had just plunged out of the freaking sky to land in front of them.
With a little shriek, the 'baby' of the two dragons landed clumsily beside its mother. "Huh." Vyncent looked between the dragons, before glancing to Altair. "Know what? Your choice. We fight them, or we run like small children."
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Post by FLICK on Feb 22, 2011 17:42:52 GMT -5
Altair stared as if transfixed at the hulking beat that towered before them, an unimaginably large, scaled expanse of hide, but it was not the hypnotic state he had previously inhabited - it was rather the quizzical stare of one who is trying to work out if what he is seeing is - can be - real. This went beyond anything he had ever dreamed of, anything he had ever read. Altair leant his head back and gave a giddy, breathless laugh, audible only as a shuddery exhalation.
Altair glanced at Vyncent, his pale face glowing unusually with adrenaline and excitement. The youth still evident in it was accentuated so he looked barely a boy, smiling as if he had never known any other expression. "Option one," he declared boldy.
Altair drew back his palm, a nimbus of gold light forming there, and for a moment focussed his attentions inward, drawing on his reserves of power. As the light grew brighter, he pushed forward and demonic fire burst from the hand, crackling and roaring up over the dragon's snout, hotter than any natural fire found on earth.
The dragon blinked bemusedly at the attack and Altair's magic faltered. After the roaring of his fire, the hillside seemed uncannily silent.
"Okay, option two," he hastily amended.
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Post by Vyncent Schwarz on Feb 23, 2011 14:58:26 GMT -5
Next to the giddy, boyish figure of Altair Vyncent looked like the typically cool and reserved mentor, his semi-sapient blade poised to strike at the dragons as soon as the moment called for it. Of course, there was just as much excitement in his burning ruby eyes, and he grinned at the reckless little laugh that escaped his companion's lips. It sounded small and insignificant as he threw it away into the air, instantly swallowed up into the gaping mountainside... which was apparently now filled with a couple of dragons.
A smirk twitched at the corners of Vyncent's mouth at Altair's declaration, the demon nodding his acquiescence and slicing at the air with Amor as if to warm up (or perhaps to see if she could carve pictures right into the wind). He lowered the rapier as he caught the spark of light out of the corner of his eye, glancing across to the younger demon.
A moment later, a ribbon of white-hot fire was lancing through the air... and in the next the dragon was snuffing it off as if something had tickled its nose. Okay. That seriously couldn't be good for their health... particularly for their health in the immediate future.
"I concur," the High Demon murmured softly, swiftly sheathing his rather disgruntled blade and clapping Altair on the shoulder in almost a brotherly gesture before swiftly legging it and leaving him to the dragons.
Vyncent, lean and long legged, made swift progress as he sprung away down the mountainside, seeming to have forgotten about Altair completely. By the way the ground was shaking and by the earsplitting screech that pierced the air, he had the impression that the dragon was on their trail as well.
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Post by FLICK on Feb 26, 2011 18:27:47 GMT -5
Vyncent had disappeared from his side before Altair had time to recover from his confusion. The dragon was unscathed? He glanced around to catch a glimpse of Vyncent's retreating form, leaping in gigantic strides down the mountain. Well, no point waiting, Altair reasoned - he wasn't going to get any help there. With a fearful glance back at the gigantic maw, open just wide enough to see the teeth, he turned after the older demon.
The dragon screamed. The force of the sound sent Altair staggering, and shocking pain in the left side of his head informed him that that time, at least, his eardrum had been damaged by the sound. He stumbled away, but the inhalation of breath bothered him more - was it preparing to breathe fire? There was a brief moment of deliberation as he considered his options, still staggering from the noise, feeling for blood in his ear. He was a creature of fire - any normal heat, and he would endure. But could he hold the dragon? His own magic, hotter than hot, had left it unfazed. The glow between its scythe-like teeth cut short any further deliberation, and Altair hastily barked magic to raise the rocks behind him in a makeshift shield.
There was a rush of heat, and white-blue flame, and Altair bounded with increased vigour down the mountainside. The rocks behind him melted to slag in seconds but it was the time he needed for his head start. At this stage of his life he still had the willowy figure of an adolescent, without his full adult bulk, and it was the speed of adolescent fear that propelled him after Vyncent, the dragon barreling after.
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Post by Vyncent Schwarz on Mar 26, 2011 16:02:26 GMT -5
Vyncent got the impression that he was entering into one of those moments which would be regarded in the future with an absurd, detached sort of hilarity. Providing they lived through this, the imagined picture of himself leaping down the mountainside with Altair bounding behind him while a dragon (possibly two) barreled after them was needlessly funny. For now, of course, it wasn't quite so amusing. Vyncent stole a glance over his shoulder just in time to watch Altair's conjured stone magic melt away into liquid heat. He wished he hadn't.
Luckily for Vyncent, his temper, forever close to the surface, was beginning to flare up. He was beginning to tire of this chase (it felt as if it had been going on for WEEKS SORRY FLICK) and besides that, he wasn't happy with the knowledge that he was a) fleeing from what was in its basest form a big lizard, and b) retracing all of those steps he'd taken on the way up the mountain. With this in mind, the high demon whirled around and skidded to a dead stop, ensuring to side step the route that Altair was taking lest the youth collide with him and send them both tumbling away down the craggy incline. It would add to the hilarity of the situation when he remembered it later, but it would be rather inconvenient at this moment in time.
"Go," he told Altair firmly, not expecting to be disobeyed as he drew Amor from her scabbard. The screaming, scaly mess of teeth and claws was hurtling towards them, but his ebon-bladed sword was screaming back now. Vyncent licked his lips. He could practically taste the violence that was to come.
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Post by FLICK on May 3, 2011 6:02:11 GMT -5
Vyncent's sudden about-turn, midway down the mountain, shocked Altair, but the agile side-step he employed was unnecessary. Altair himself jerked to a stop, his boots sliding over the loose, gravelly ground cover, as he noticed Vyncent's reversal in strategy. So the other demon wanted to stand his ground and fight? Well, Altair wouldn't be outdone, even if he lacked Vyncent's mighty arsenal of weapons and magic. He had no Amor to fight with - he doubted his blade would make it to the dragons' flesh - and his flames had proved harmless, but he refused to miss the spectacle, or allow Vyncent to show him weak or cowardly.
He cast a sidelong glance at the black blade sliding from her scabbard before turning to face the dragons. At the sight of the beasts that rushed towards them he shifted back, stepping defensively behind Vyncent, but his youthful confidence was beginning to flower until it bounded on hysteria. He was Altair, with Vyncent beside him. They were demons the world was unprepared for. Their power was unmatched by anything the world could throw at them: they were invincible; immortal.
Altair laughed madly, fire sparking at the fingertips of his left hand. With his right, he drew his own sword, but his mood left no patience for pretty fencing. He hurled the serviceable blade as hard as he could towards the face of the smallest dragon and sprung aside, bracing himself to redirect the gouts of flame they it could hurl in return.
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Post by Vyncent Schwarz on May 31, 2011 11:48:20 GMT -5
Altair's mad laughter had served as a rather fitting backdrop for the following skirmish with the dragons, Vyncent thought afterwards. It had suited the fight perfectly, in fact. Anyone watching, of course, would think them to be mad - perhaps they were, in retrospect. But madness and hysteria had won them the day, and Vyncent felt just a little euphoric as he picked himself up from the loose gravel of the mountainside, the demon sweeping white, chalky dust and ashes from his patented red coat as he rose to his feet.
He had realised early on in the fight that brute force, while his favourite means of disposing of an enemy/friend/obstacle, was not going to enable them to win. Not the kind of brute force that he and Altair could employ alone, in any case.
...The brute force of having a mountain drop onto you, though. That might have some kind of effect.
Vyncent was exhausted. He snatched in a few ragged breaths, coughing through the dust and wiping his bloody knuckles on the lace handkerchief which he had slipped out of one of the sleeves of his coat. He also wiped away the thin stream of crimson blood that was dripping from the side of his mouth. His ears were ringing. Earth magic wasn't his forte, far from, but together (he assumed he'd received aid from Altair, whether he would ever admit to it or not) they had stirred enough kinetic energy to cause a landslide. Dragons, Vyncent had learned, did not react well to a vast quantity of heavy, moving earth piling onto them.
The sun was starting to dip down over the mountain range, a blurry amber disc in the distance. Vyncent sat himself down on a larger, flatter rock, despite having just gotten up. "Well. That was fun," he breathed, a smirk lifting one corner of his mouth.
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Post by FLICK on Jun 1, 2011 18:33:49 GMT -5
Altair was faring considerably worse than Vyncent, but even in his battered state a deranged chuckle was issuing from the corner of his mouth, interspersed with ragged gasps for the air he needed to fight off injury and exhaustion. His bloody left arm hung limply at his side, swaying oddly formlessly to and fro in time with his stagger as he fought to keep balance. The bones were broken, he thought - probably in several places, from the latticework of pain he could feel spread over the limb. The side of his face he found even more incredible - it was burned and blistered by dragon fire, something he had thought impossible for one of his heritage. He pressed at the blistered, oozing skin with bloodied fingertips, leaving white hot patches of pain against the throbbing mass of his burns.
To top it all off, he had poured all his magical energy into Vyncent's earth-spell: the final magic that had won the day, as it happened. Altair hadn't known the effect the sorcery would have but nonetheless flung himself into it with the reckless abandon that had characterised all his movements in the battle. He put his strength behind the magic, careless for himself, and he would pay for it before long - but not now. The madness of the fight was still on him, rendering his injuries and tiredness trivialities.
They had won, that was the important thing - even against dragons, they had won. Nothing could stop them. Ego, pride, arrogance swelled in him: Altair laughed and a grin distorted the pink patchwork of his burns. "Oh yes. It was."
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Post by Vyncent Schwarz on Jun 2, 2011 5:57:34 GMT -5
The first thing Vyncent noticed was the laughter. He was busy cleaning his cuts and grazes - nothing but superficial injuries, really - when he heard that dark, insane tittering just to his left. He looked up, bemused, and glanced around to Altair. He raised his silvery eyebrows in half shock, half confusion. Oh yes. It was. In his blatant disregard for beings other than himself, Vyncent had neglected to take Altair's youth, limited energy supply and minor inexperience into account. This neglect now manifested itself in front of him, limp armed and magnificently scorched... and possibly quite mad.
Vyncent forced himself to his feet. His injuries were minor; his main worry was his exhaustion, and not much more than that. He had avoided the dragon fire, though clearly not without consequence; Altair was a mess. The high demon tilted his head, wondering whether it would be easier (or even kinder, if kindness registered to him one bit) to bash the youth's head in with a rock and put him out of his misery rather than try to get him to a healer.
...But then again, he had survived thus far, and that was on his own two feet.
Vyncent could have deliberated for as long as he liked, but in the end he reached out to grasp Altair's good arm to keep him steady. "As fun as that was, I think it would be better to save our celebration until you're less... oozy." Yes. That seemed like the adequate word. He smirked to himself, turning the other demon around and giving him a gentle shove to get him moving over the gravelly, smoking terrain. "It's a long way down the mountain," he remarked as they set off, ruby gaze sliding over to the burn on Altair's face, trying to judge its severity.
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Post by FLICK on Jun 2, 2011 7:32:32 GMT -5
Altair sunk subconsciously against Vyncent's support as the other demon took his arm, slowly returning to sanity. As his madness receded, however, another threat became clear: the possibility that his injuries, even for a demon, may actually be quite serious. His face - the section unmarred by burns and blistering - was flushed, and his eyes had taken on a glaze, as though he saw the world remotely, slightly blurred beyond a pain barrier.
"Yes," he managed faintly. The stream of laughter, sustained throughout the fight, finally ran dry. He almost longed for another dragon now - something else to put that madness back into him, a distraction, for a time at least, from the reality of his arm, and the burns on his face. "Yes, waiting is probably best." Another chuckle now, but a sober one. "But I will need a large drink." Preferably soon. Now even.
Forcing himself to stand mostly alone (if fully unsupported was beyond him, he wouldd avoid at least the entire humiliation of Vyncent carrying him down the mountain), he started forward with staggering steps. From a long look out of the corner of his eye, he caught Vyncent's gaze on his burns. "They're not that bad," he commented, "if I don't touch them". Experimentally, he prodded them once again. A flash of pain. "How long til town?"
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Post by Vyncent Schwarz on Jun 2, 2011 7:54:51 GMT -5
"A large drink. I think that's doable, providing we get to a settlement before the taverns shut up for the night." Vyncent pondered over this for a moment. Did taverns ever shut up entirely? He didn't know. Either way, staying there, at the foot of their synthetic landslide, was not taking them anywhere. He moved after Altair, his own movements deliberately slow and careful. He might not have his arm hanging uselessly at his side or his face half melted, but he was still tired after their encounter with the dragons. If they were attacked on the way to a town, they would truly be in trouble.
Vyncent rolled his eyes as Altair prodded his burns, a weary, yet amused little smile on his face. It could be likened to the look an older brother gives his younger sibling after he does something that the elder knows will end badly. "Whatever you say. I suppose I should be thankful, at least, that you are optimistic. Still a few hours until town. Hope you're up for a long walk."
By the time they reached any kind of civilisation - it turned out to be a small, mountain hamlet half buried in the stone - it had been dark for over two hours. And, much to Vyncent's chagrin, it had started to rain. The demon was in a terrible mood as they wandered into the town; Altair was lucky he hadn't been abandoned at the side of the mountain. Vyncent was still holding him by the arm, but his other had moved around the younger demon to hold him on his feet. He shook his wet hair out of his face, gazing around at the flickering lights within people's homes. Whatever kind of healer they would find here, it would be a piss poor one, but it was better than nothing.
Besides which, if they didn't get inside soon, the rain and the cold would put them both in trouble. "You still alive?" he inquired to Altair, hoping he hadn't been half dragging a corpse down the mountain for the last hour or so.
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Post by FLICK on Jun 2, 2011 8:24:49 GMT -5
"I'm up for anything, Vyncent," Altair retorted - the closest he could get to clever banter in his current state. "Didn't our recent adventure prove that to you? I'll try harder next time." If Vyncent regarded Altair somewhat like a younger sibling, Altair was coming to see Vyncent as an older one - his preferred communication methods might be cutting insults, argument and violence, but somewhere beneath all that there was an abstract form of affection, faint as it might be. For now, at least, battered as he was, he felt safe with the knowledge that Vyncent would take him back to town.
By the time they arrived, Altair was still alive - relatively. He had slid into a dull stupor for most of the trek, eyes unseeing, feet moving mechanically with Vyncent, rather than his mind, the only guide. His conscious thoughts retreated somewhere deep inside himself, avoiding the pain of existing for a time, but as they reached the town they slid back out again, and character once more glimmered in his eyes. "This is a rubbish town," he joked feebly. "We should keep going." But even as he said it, he pressed more heavily on Vyncent's shoulder - the pain was getting worse, especially his face. Was there some kind of venom there too? At least it was raining - the water, normally an irritant, was a blessing against the burnt flesh of his face. It was an odd feeling, being so comforted by something he normally reviled.
"Do you think they'll have a healer?" he asked Vyncent dully. The tavern was before them - that'd normally be the first place to ask around for services like that. A weak smile. "If not, the bar's a decent substitute." The words came out slurred and unsteady - the trip down had taken its toll.
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Post by Vyncent Schwarz on Jun 2, 2011 9:58:07 GMT -5
Vyncent laughed softly at Altair's attempts at jokes, if for no other reason than because he was too tired to chide him for them. When the other demon leaned more heavily against him, he straightened up and moved towards the tavern a few yards away. "One can hope," he nodded at the suggestion of a healer, "but you should probably stop talking now." They reached the doors soon enough, Vyncent kicking them open due to having his hands full. Silence fell as he loped inside with Altair half conscious beside him. They didn't exactly look the image of chaos infused demons seeking out trouble, but there was a fierce look in Vyncent's eyes which, although it begged for a moment's rest, gave no room for objection.
These people didn't know that the high demon might only be able to sustain a low-heat flame, or that Altair was possibly dying. They saw demons. And in demons, they saw danger. Someone vacated a seat as they approached the bar, allowing Vyncent to sit Altair down in it. He carefully moved the other demon's raven hair out of his face, in case it stuck to the burn, before his gaze slid around the tavern. 'And what?' it seemed to say. He made sure Altair would be able to sit himself up before sweeping to the bar. He ordered a whiskey, which was delivered to him in record time and which Vyncent pressed into Altair's hand, urging him to drink the amber liquid. Drinking would keep him awake at least.
"A healer," he said as he moved back to the bar, regarding the barman levelly. It wasn't a question, it was a demand. The reason for this demand was obvious; it was sitting slumped in a chair behind him. If the orphan Altair wanted an older brother figure, he couldn't have chosen a more fitting, and yet more dangerous demon to step up for the role.
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Post by FLICK on Jun 5, 2011 20:22:42 GMT -5
Altair put on a petulant expression at Vyncent's request that he stop talking, akin to that of a child denied sweets. But he did as he was told - he had no will to resist Vyncent's steady hand on his shoulder, steering him into the tavern and into a chair by the bar, let alone Vyncent's demands of him. The whiskey was a demand he was happy to oblige: he downed the glass in one, the burning of his throat playing a cheerful countermelody to the altogether less pleasant sensation on his face. He placed the glass back on the bar and grinned widely, both lines of teeth showing. The movement cracked the crust that was beginning to form on his burn - a sinister expression made only more unnerving by the unfocused look in his eyes.
The healer entered the room with alarming swiftness - or at least, so it seemed to Altair, who had entered a state of flux between consciousness and unconsciousness. The injured demon admired his resolve. It was obvious what creatures he had been summoned to assist: there was no hiding it, with Altair in the state he was. And yet he didn't shirk from his duty. He knew, Altair supposed, that Vyncent would likely kill him at the end. He knew also that Vyncent would kill him if he ran. So it was either a sense of Hippocratic duty to the ill or feeble hope that Vyncent understood the concept of a good turn that brought him, scarcely wavering, over to the two demons at the bar. Altair chose, optimistically delirious, to believe the former.
The healer examined him quickly, fingers hovering over the surface of his wounds without touching. "Splints and poultices won't work here," he said decisively, directing the words to Vyncent. "There's no natural recovery from these sort of injuries. You're lucky somebody here knows the magic - although I can't say for certain that will lead to a full recovery."
Altair, too, looked at Vyncent, briefly lucid. "Will this hurt?"
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Post by Vyncent Schwarz on Jun 6, 2011 6:27:44 GMT -5
Vyncent turned from the bar at the sound of the tavern doors opening, locking eyes with the healer as he swept across the room to them. He admired his gall, in a way - too many healers simply collapsed under the pressure of being faced with two demons. This one had double the pressure, taking into account that one was exhausted and moody with a penchant for killing... anything that spoke too much or made no sense, and the other was injured and delirious, and may have a thirst for the same kind of violence. But still, duty brought this man to the bar and had him talking with Vyncent as an equal.
Vyncent found this quite refreshing, in fact.
"Lucky?" The demon's voice was purposefully quiet and controlled, his ruby eyes flashing around the tavern to watch as people began to get up and slip away outside. They didn't want any part of this, and Vyncent couldn't really say he blamed them. The barman was looking reproachfully over the demon's shoulder as his customers departed. Demons. Always with the demons.
"I don't think luck has much to do with it," he continued. "This is a hamlet at the foot of a mountain which quite clearly has a few dragonkin roaming around it. It's not lucky to find someone with the necessary magic nearby. I would think it was quite sensible."
He looked down at Altair as he spoke, the demon regarding him carefully for a moment or so. It was a question one would expect from a child; for a moment Vyncent thought of lying. Then he thought better.
He said, "Very much so, I imagine. It might be a blessing if you were to pass out."
His expression read: You're up shit creek without a paddle.
His attention moved back to the healer. "Is a tavern really an appropriate place for this? Is there an inn close by, or rooms upstairs?"
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