Scene setting : Wrath Castle
This story is co-written with five other writers; Temp, Moo, Zetta, Candle and Fu.
Temp: The battlefield, if you could still call it that, was a nightmare becoming reality. Blood and bodies littered the floor. Lost limbs and organs bounced around among the soldiers feet. Fallen weapons bounced about and stabbed those that fell or stepped in the wrong direction. Cannon fire blew living and already dead soldiers into bits. Arrows pierced everything in sight. The ‘battlefield’…was a fucking mess.
Astaroth narrowed his vision and spotted the pesky warlocks that were doing everything they could to contain his Magma creatures. Now that he caught sight of them, he began repeating his earlier attacks at the battlefield, but instead focused on the warlocks. He hurled the Black magma fireballs at every single one he could see, blowing them up mid-cast. This of course created more Magma creatures, which were now devouring all they could find within the inner walls. He hadn’t followed the actions of the warrior that had tried to fight him earlier, but he eventually took notice of him. Whatever the warrior was doing, was definitely…different. Though, he still really didn’t care about this warrior, as he was busy dealing with the more pressing issues. While one warrior of immense strength was definitely a problem, he would never put a one-on-one fight before taking out the main forces.
Eventually some of the forces of Wrath decided to try and attack him, hurling spears and arrows and even directing cannon fire at him. The thick scaled skin that he possessed made all these attacks bounce off, almost like what they were using against him were nothing but toys. His loud and blood curdling laughter could be heard throughout the battlefield. As messy and screwed up as this fight was…it was still amusing. He figured that if he had actually marched here with his army, they would have won fairly quickly. That of course would have meant he wouldn’t have been able to make a surprise appearance and have any fun though…so maybe this wasn’t so bad.
Upon catching a glimpse of Mammon, he felt a slightly disturbing feeling…was this worry? The Prince of Greed was not exactly acting like his usual self. What was the cause of this exactly? Baal’s betrayal could have been a possibility, but that seemed like it was just a piece of the puzzle. Whatever it was that was causing Mammon to act so strangely would have to remain a mystery. Fearing that The Prince of Greed was losing his grip on the actual battle, Astaroth decided that it would be best to get closer to him. He pressed off of the tower that he had been grasping onto, breaking the building into bits which fell down onto the soldiers below. As he flew through the air, he aimed his massive body at an area behind Mammon, obviously not wanting to turn him into a pancake. Before he landed he cleared his landing zone of anything in the way using his Black fireballs. As soon as Astaroth made contact with the ground, the ground below and around him would break apart and fling into the battlefield around him, causing more death. Now on the ground, the Magma began to drip down from his mouth, creating more creatures as he began to stomp forward. Anything that got in his way was immediately eaten and blown to bits by his Magma creatures, paving a clear path towards Mammon.
Baal listened to what Mammon had to say and let out a deafening laugh. It was a very deep and disturbing laugh that would make any sane person cower in fear. With a soldier in his gigantic hand, he bit off the head and chewed on it like a piece of beef jerky.
The chewing noise made some soldiers get sick to there stomach and run away, but the blood flowing down the back of his throat made him release pleasurable moans. His muscles in his arms tightened a little bit more and his arms gained mass. At this point Baal looked like a massive tank. “I will rip the hide from your back and eat it in front of you! Replying back to Mammon as the path was now cleared.
With the magma creatures exploding and clearing out the people in front of his target, Baal stared down the man who was sort of his friend. He tolerated Mammon but from time to time, there was thoughts of murdering this pretentious prick. Except now he could actually murder him and be as disgusting as he wanted. Maybe if he actually did kill Mammon he’d skin his face off and wear it just to be even scarier than normal.
Now that he was in front of Mammon, Baal stared at him with the eyes of a man who knew there was no turning back now. He used his nail to slit his wrist and suck the blood into his mouth, with blood covering his face he let out a demented smile. His hands began engulfing in wine red flames, with that In mind he let out a loud roar and charged straight at him with going in for a good firm blow to the gut.
Moo: Gabriel had long since started moving again. Originally, she would have aimed to fight Astaroth off her tower. The damn moron was causing too much damage to her castle, as well as cutting down on her forces after killing a handful of warlocks. She whistled loud and long, and a new handful ran out from the castle, taking cover where they could while they aimed to contain the magma once more. The rest was a lost cause.
Cannons were aimed for the large animals and orcs covering the fields around the kingdom’s walls, reducing their numbers slowly but surely. The fact that her own orcs and animals were in the fields made it exceptionally harder to hit targets without creating their own casualties. Thus, bowmen would help slow some creatures in the front and their own creatures would fight them in their weakened state. Cannons focused on the back row, taking out one or two with each blast.
It was due to Mammon’s voice that she would dismiss the black dragon.
And I’ll make you cook and eat your own flaccid cock! You treacherous pig!
Laughter followed what could be classified as a threat as Gabriel’s shoulders shook. She tossed her head back, tears forming in her eyes. Not a day and she had managed to cause such chaos! Two friends were at each other’s throats. Or so she thought. However, no clang of blades had followed. Her expression sobered as she peered out to the battlefield in curiosity.
COME FACE ME, YOU STINKING TART. I CAN SMELL YOUR FISHY SNATCH FROM HERE!
Hell-Fire ran down her body as she laughed again, though with a dangerous look in her eyes. Gabriel was finally being challenged. In a comical way, as well. She gripped her sword and it immediately seemed to roar back to life with flames. The size grew once more, the blade becoming black as obsidian, glowing in places with embers. Surely, it would pierce his armor as easily as any other soldier on the field. The flames in which ran over her body had dispersed for the most part, only decorating her new armor. It looked much like the material in which made up her golden claw. Its durability would withstand most materials. Even some of the strongest steel would not penetrate where she was covered with it. And much like her sword, it seemed to be eternally burning. Light hit the armor and it would glow as if embers were embedded in several areas. Where fire spread across her horns previously, there was a physical crown of the same features. Gauntlets, boots, shoulder pads… everything was present to cover her body.
Astaroth had moved then, crumbling her building in the process. Gabriel rolled her eyes. While she’d been prepared to dash into battle, this would serve as a momentary distraction. Screams were silenced as large rocks tumbled onto a few dozen of the troops surrounding the building. “Idiots!” she snarled at her now dead men as she looked back. Others around the rocks had been momentarily stunned, but were now climbing over the mound or running around it, crying out for vengeance as the followed the black dragon, catching on-coming forces of greed. “The lot of you,” she continued in a low growl.
This battle ground was such a mess. Baal had once again attempted to make contact with his friend. He was using his fists as well. Gabriel’s curiosity perked slightly. As to why Baal was weaponless, she didn’t know. But she caught a glimpse of a headless spear on the ground a few feet away. While she’d avoided Astaroth in running, she now saw him making an effort to catch up with Mammon as well. So this would be a four-way fight? She flipped her bangs out of her face before her arm hooked down and slightly outward as she began running at an inhuman speed toward the pair of men. Once she and Astaroth met the pair, it would be chaos.
Yet there was no question of who would walk away from this battle alive. A smile tugged at the corner of her lips, pulling it up until she looked demented…crazed…as battle lust became very much present in her eyes. “I will slaughter you, Mammon!” she called out in an excited tone. “You just wait for me.” To herself now…a chuckle followed.
Zetta: His eyes glazed over everything but everything else had been deadened. Hours into the war: His sense of hearing picking up every individuals screams and shouts, mortal cries and dying breaths. So he decided to close his ears entirely with a thin strip of flesh grown over his internal ears. He was pit in a battle-field in Hell even though he was human, he was always a monster on Earth, but here he seemed to belong. Fighting on the side of wrath for his own guilty pleasures. After awhile he shut his ears to the noise of dying men around him so he could focus more, without being able to clearly decide who he would listen out for and who did not deserve such courtesy he was forced to concentrate only on what was before him. Those who had attacked him, stuck axes, spears, and swords inside of his body were now mostly only torn top-halves hanging onto a handle. The length of their weapons being the only thing that kept them hanging on despite their latch being a bloody locomotive adding more and more chances that the ground soldiers of Gabriel would overwhelm the other side. Cecil was doing his best still to keep the Dragon in his sights, where his black fires had swarmed the castle-tops and seemed to be creating more minions at his disposal.. A truly damaging attack. It incinerated his enemies and gave birth to newer, possibly stronger spawns that would do their own hurting to the army of Wrath.. The man thought it was enough to not allow him another position on the ground below, but that was no longer the case, he became even more dangerous while left alone in that vast sky. Limited to ground assaults, even while slicing apart the opposition of conjoined forces, Cecil quickly created ways for himself to reach such heights as a flying beast.
Minutes into his own foreshadowing of an aerial attempt he was constantly defeated by the reality that was gravity. No man would fly on his own, he was plagued by the thoughts of uselessness, while being gate-keeper it was his job to ensure no one besieged the forces of Wrath and managed to directly damage the Kingdom.. Yet what was a man capable of terrorizing the ground against one who could fly, even if he could get close, what would he be able to do to such a massive creature spewing such dangerous blazes.. Then, through his flesh-coated ear-drums he heard the shouting of that one with the armor, and immediately uncovered his hearing. Right as he leaped a few meters into the air and managed to catch a polearm’s blade end just before it impaled him, clapping it between his hands and snapping the thing off of it’s hinges. In a swift motion he kicked the attack to the side, continuing to twist his body to kick another of Greed’s soldiers across the face. He held himself up just a bit with the pole arm and then smashed his feet into the faces of the two men he’d kicked, landing perfectly upon them before he continued moving forward. He heard his following words, that to disrespect his Lady and grunted lowly in anger. His eyes widened as he became filled with this passionate emotional fire burning within him, yet her response did not match Cecil’s same hate for that one. She replied callously, promising death for him.. For Mammon.. He would remember that name throughout all of this, and instead of allowing himself to be defeated by his inability to fly on his own, he would do as Lady Gabriel did. Harness that rage into pure murderous intent. He would have to stop that Dragon by any means…
First he turned to one of the flaming spawns he had created, quickly realizing that he was surrounded only by enemies now as the remains of Mammon’s army came forth. Cecil drove his bladed limbs directly through it’s chest and tossed it at a group of others, then spun himself totally and extended his arms outwards. Destroying those in his immediate place. Then he stopped, perfectly halting himself with a firm foot-plant onto the ground, his eyes caught up with his movements, never ones to become dizzy even with twirling havoc going on. He did this to leap at another, taking an armored punch to the face, loosening a tooth in his mouth only to ignore this pain and reach for the other’s face. Squeezing it in his palms. The one beside was shocked at this inhuman feat, but was then grabbed up as well. Quickly; Cecil hurled both men at the Dragon with immense strength.. Demonic baseballs, if he would have thought to name them, were coming towards the black-magma shooting behemoth above the Castle. The corrupted meta-human continued this, as he was deep in Mammon’s forces at this point, nearby were those gigantic elephant-creatures he rode in with. Cecil would finally smirk, finding a pleasure in his finally having ammunition to combat that Dragon.. His bladed arms were shaped into added muscles on his already great showing of physical prowess, though he was heavier with this added mass, he saw no need to move much anymore. As he would be relying on his supernatural perception and precision.. With his strength manipulated to a maximum of iron-crushing might. The elephants themselves were massive, at least 10 tons individually along with the catapults they were attached too, but being thrown by an enhanced Cecil, were now breaching 40 tons. He would be tossing them too, as there were plenty to use, he’d beam them at the Dragon until he hadn’t anymore.. But the army of Greed really was one of the largest…
Razorbackwriter: They say Greed is a powerful force and none so more powerful when coupled with hatred. Combine the two and you have the makings of greatness, or folly. In the Prince’s mind previous to going to war, he had thought that the Beserker armor was the best in the land and so he wore it with a callous disregard to himself. That moment that he placed on the helm of the skull had completed the dark gnomes enchantment and the wearer was to become one with the power of the suit. But little by little, with every footstep, every move of the hand of a clock; the armor was taking him over. Mammon’s mind inching; closer and closer to the abyss of madness. All around him chaos unprecedented. His armies though having fought well on their mission to destroy the castle, were now coming under a ferocious attack from Gabriel’s supporters. Even his own battle elephants were being hurtled through the air like toys in an effort to crush waves of the Greed army. Desperate cries, and screams went unheard as the Prince of Greed now homed in on the very one that had brought about such hatred. Gabriel. Oh, she had heard his vicious and ridiculous taunts and had met them all with a sick and twisted laughter. She found his intentions to be futile as they were ill placed. He had no allies save Astaroth, who was doing all in his power to clear a way to be behind the Prince of Greed in what would be his final hours. Astaroth had sensed the change in the Prince of Greed. Never before had he been this bold to attack another kingdom. Regardless of how the change in the crown had come to be. Sure, he hated women, but this was not the Prince at all. The Beserker armor was now the driving force of this quest to reduce Gabriel to a sizzling pile of gloop and excrement.
The skies were now alight with the colour of fire and brimstone, the air rich with the stank of death and rot as the earth was reclaiming the same bodies it had brought up to serve the Prince of Greed. All around warriors were valiantly staving off what was to come. The complete destruction of the Army of Greed. Mammon may not have been able to see the carnage behind him but he was now void of all feeling and emotion.
His closest; Baal had betrayed him. The vile and pathetic excuse of a true Prince of Hell was now answering to Mammon’s wicked taunts. Had the Beserker truly gotten under the Prince of Gluttony’s skin? For him to start a run at Mammon with his fist being drawn back in an effort to make a single attack to strike at the Prince of Greed’s gut was a tell tale sign that he was not thinking at all with his head. Maybe the blood was in his cock after all. The Beserker skull helm altered as the more sinister vision of the sickly white skull started to show through. Inhuman. Mammon gripped onto the handle of Soul collector with a frightening menace as you could hear the creak and strain of the armor. Almost fusing itself to the blade. Then…it happened. Fist met gut with a sickening crunch that would have sent Mammon back stumbling, but his right foot was back slightly to reinforce his stance. Like lightning the left hand rocketed out to seize Baal’s wrist in such a grip that would break the bone of a mortal. Now he had him. With all the embodied hatred of the armor, the twisted and insane mind snapped. The Soul collector blade raised and slashed down to slice Baal’s arm from the elbow. Yes. The blade cried out – its two hundred souls wailed as it was about to be joined by another. ~SHLICK!~ With Baal’s arm being severed from the body, blood was sure to spurt out and form a sickly puddle on the floor, or spray Mammon.