Frostborn

A fiery soul is destined to feel cold. Welcome to the catacombs of ice.

Thursday, January 22, 2015

The Frailty of Desperation (Part 2)



            Having no intention of opening the door the Poet and the others decided to wait it out, hoping the Man would just go away. He couldn't take the hint though. His actions were not his own. Eventually however he did stop knocking, but it was not for the reasons anyone inside would have liked. There certainly wasn't any walking away involved. Instead, his body came crashing through the door with such force that it would have killed him had he not already been dead. In the void left where the door used to be now stood a shadowy figure towering over eight feet tall. He would have had to crouch to get through the opening, but decided to rather just break more of the wall out with his shoulders as he stepped through into the lobby with minimal effort.
            As had become commonplace as of late, a wave of silence washed over the inn. Nobody moved for several seconds, but when the staredown finally ended there was a flurry of activity, much of which went unseen. First off, the Pestilence realized the disintegration effect her eyes could produce did not work on their new foe. She tried it twice, both times unsuccessfully. Somehow he was immune to her gaze. Second, the Shadow Demon confirmed his belief that he could not possess the Poet. Having been born out of the same darkness as himself he had been granted some level of resistance to his spells. There was an aura of dark energy that protected him. It seemed he was unaware of his gift's potential though. Lastly, the Librarian killed the Beacon. Hearing the scream the Poet spun about to see the Librarian pulling his sword out of her body just in time to block his next attack. Locking swords he stared into the red eyes of his opponent. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the Pestilence just staring at them as they continued to hold their stance. Feeling his grip starting to give way he began to wonder if she was ever going to step in and help out. And that's when he noticed her eyes were the same color as his attacker's. The Shadow Demon was trying to unlock the secret to her disintegration spell, but failing. He had control of her body but was struggling to enslave her mind. She was breaking his spell at about the same rate the Librarian was breaking the Poet's block.
            Closing his eyes the Poet turned his head as the blade neared his face. He couldn't resist it any more. Unable to hold onto his blade any longer he heard it hit the floor behind him and braced for the inevitable feeling of cold steel piercing flesh. But it didn't come. Instead he heard the sound of a second blade hitting the floor. Opening his eyes he found the Pestilence staring at him and a pile of ash at his feet where the Librarian used to be. Nodding to her as a sign of his thanks he was happy to see the natural color having returned to her eyes. His joy was short lived though as the Shadow Demon reminded them he was still there with some sort of magical force attack that knocked the Pestilence on her back. Wasting no time the Poet reclaimed his fallen sword and charged the demon head on.
            It went about as well as expected. Though the Shadow Demon could not use his possession spirit on him he was still significantly stronger physically. He picked the Poet up by the head and hurled him back into the wall. Disappointed that someone with a soul as black as his could act in such a manner he followed up his initial attack with a nether blast that consumed his target. Having his dark aura to protect him the Poet felt nothing. Instead it absorbed into him and sent him into a seizure.
            Returning to her feet the Pestilence now faced the Shadow Demon alone, which allowed her little time to do anything but dodge. Rolling out of the way of harm and diving to avoid dark energy attacks she only hoped she could buy enough time for the Poet to come out of his seizure and lend her a hand. Even with his help it seemed like an unlikely battle to win, but there would at least then be a hope. That's how the Beacon would have wanted her to think anyways.

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