He that is proud eats up himself: pride is his own glass, his own trumpet, his own chronicle – SS.

Scene setting : Pride Kingdom

co-written with Temp.

 

Temp:  Astaroth appeared sitting upon his throne, seemingly out of nowhere. He had just returned from the battle between the armies of Greed and Wrath. There was a great deal of disturbing occurrences during the battle, all of which were now being analyzed in his mind. Gabriel had somehow managed to get a variety of unique followers within an extremely short amount of time, for seemingly no logical reason. Both the armies of Greed and Wrath were stricken with mass casualties. Mammon, the Prince of Greed himself, fell in battle. Astaroth would likely have joined him if Lucifer himself hadn’t stepped in. This meant that he owed him, which wasn’t something he was happy about. Better to owe a favor than to die though, right? Normally retreating would have shaken someone like him down to the core, rattling his pride heavily at it’s core. However, he had made it clear to himself that there was simply no other choice. It still stung a tad, having to retreat, but there was no winning that fight. A one on one fight with Gabriel, now that would have been different…right? He had taken a lot of damage during the fight in his demonic form. Perhaps joining the fight in that form immediately was the wrong move. Next time he would fight in his normal form, or perhaps learn a condensed version of that form. There was a clear advantage in having multiple forms, as it put him into a position of having different phases of damage, vitality, stamina, etc. His pride in himself was not arrogance, it was something that was a fact. He refused to accept himself, or anything in his army that he couldn’t be proud of. It seemed his current capabilities weren’t sufficient enough, which meant he would have to continue training.

His wounds, along with the clothing that he wore, began to heal and return to normal while he sat on his throne. Healing his wounds wouldn’t take very long, but recovering from his transformation would. He was well aware that he would not be in fighting form for several days, but he refused to sit and fester. “Send me a General, immediately!” His words were loud and piercing, and would surely attract the attention of his servants. Eventually his order was obeyed, and a servant presented his lord with one of his many Generals. “Bolster the defenses, hire more spies…saboteurs…assassins…everything…I want scouts patrolling every hour…any spies in the dungeons and caught from here on out are to be executed…no more questioning. Kill any and all that are suspicious. Make me proud.” The General knew better than to question his lord and master, and bowed his head in total agreement. Astaroth knew damn well that the army of Pride was by far the most highly trained and powerful, as he would not accept anything less. Still, there was always room for improvement and more willing and able souls. There was no telling what awaited him in the future, so for now he would prepare and recover…and after…he would do anything necessary to become stronger. He now had a mission, a purpose. Kill Gabriel and all her followers.

 

Razorbackwriter:  

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The Ambassador decided his next port of call on his mission to tour the Seven kingdoms of Hell would be none other than that of the Castle Pride. Already well aware of the fact that it was Lucifer that dealt the hand of fate to save Astaroth from Gabriel’s blade, the Ambassador was sure that the Prince of Pride would be wounded…both morally and physically. Of course he could heal himself, over time but no doubt he would seek vengeance against Gabriel and her supporters. The interesting thing was, the Ambassador served HELL, not any individual kingdom. He ensured that there was a balance in that those that needed to know the current state of affairs of each other’s kingdoms were told. What was interesting was the shift in the balance, from the Seven Princes to now….five with two Princesses taking the place of Belial and Mammon.

Ah yes Mammon. The Prince of Greed who uncharacteristically rode into the Castle Wrath as though his tail was on fire, and died tragically….and all too soon. Felled…by a woman…and betrayed by a woman. There was a connection between the rise of the two Princesses and one that the Prince of Pride was sure to need to know.

Having already paid a visit to the court of Envy and seeing for himself how women again were clamoring at the feet of the current Prince, Leviathan, the Ambassador was almost certain that there may well be….another change in power. Jealousy was a powerful Master. If one woman was scorned, because Leviathan chose to lay with the other that adored…who knows what she could do. All this was of course speculation….for now.

The black carriage arrived at the main gates of the Castle of Pride and a footman jumped off the back of the carriage and strode up towards the guards on duty. He would hand over the seal of the Vicomte de Valmont as an address for a meeting with his royal Highness the Prince of Pride. If the guards allowed the carriage passage inside, it would roll on through to the inner court yard, where Valmont would alight and await to be escorted up to the main hall.

 

~RB~

 

Temp:  Astaroth had been doing nothing but resting in his Throne since he arrived in his Kingdom. His transformation had taken it’s tole on his body, and his mind was in a bit of a strange place. He would fix his position in his throne as he was informed by a guard of the Ambassador’s arrival. What the man was doing here he did not know, as Astaroth had already known about Gabriel for a while now. Still, it was worth checking out…just in case.

The guards at the gates would escort the Ambassador all the way to the castle, as well as bring him inside. The Ambassador was brought into the Throne room, which was actually rather occupied at the moment. Astaroth’s most powerful and highly trained warriors filled the room, they were his Royal Guard. He looked down at the Ambassador with an annoyed look, but not due to any hatred he had for the man. He was simply not in a good mood was all. “Valmont…I trust you have a good reason for being here.” He was not in the mood for company, but he would put up with this meeting…for now.

 

Razorbackwriter:  Surrounded by the Royal guard and many other warriors of note, the Ambassador of Hell bowed before the Prince of Pride, who had a rather annoyed look upon his face. One was to expect that Astaroth would be in a bad mood after the failure at Wrath and who could blame him. Valmont certainly couldn’t. One thing that the Ambassador noted was that unlike the Prince of Envy who was surrounded by women and one very over protective guard, was that this was a court made up mostly of men. In truth, this was how Valmont liked it. Yes, he was the Demon of Seduction and perversion but he knew that when against women, you could never ever really trust them. Like what was happening in Hell at the moment. Did Belial have any inkling that his own love would behead him? Word was that she killed her son too. That meant she wanted no competition. She was true to her nature, and that is what made her all the more dangerous.

“Valmont…I trust you have a good reason for being here.”

“Indeed I have, my Lord Pride.” Valmont was curt in his response, knowing full well that the Prince would not favour any dilly dallying on his part. So, he got right to the point of his visit.

“As you know, the balance of power from men in the seats of thrones is changing. Gabriel being the first. And you are most likely aware, that Mammon acted…out of character at the battle of Wrath castle.” The Ambassador said, turning his head to look up at the Prince with a serious expression. “Mammon had been betrayed, my Lord Pride. His own Lady of Ambition tricked him into wearing Beserker. The armor was the reason that Mammon….fell so prematurely.”

Now, the Prince of Pride would have known that Mammon acted almost insane in his attack on Gabriel. Without care for his own life. Odd…really.

“So, now there is a woman as head of Greed. But…that is not the end of it.”

This is where the intelligence of the Ambassador would come in truly useful. “I have just been to see Leviathan – the Prince of Envy, and turns out he has a little female problem of his own. Two women are vying for his affection, another too sick to compete….BUT….after the fall of Belial and Mammon to women…it’s a matter of time before Leviathan does as well.”

“Leviathan still wishes Gabriel’s favors and is a staunch supporter. As for Baal, well….I dare say he is licking his stump. Having lost his arm to Mammon. The same Prince he betrayed for Gabriel.”

There was a pattern emerging, if the Prince of Pride chose to see it. The Ambassador went into the final act of his intel collection.

“Of the five remaining princes, two are aligned with Wrath….and Gabriel may think highly of Lady Lydia for her wicked plot against Mammon. That would be three against you….my Lord. Sloth is silent for now….but then there is Lust….”

His voice trailed off at the mention of the other Princes…as he was sure that all this was sinking in. “It’s no doubt that each have aspirations for greatness. Question is….who do you trust?”

~RB~

 

Temp:  Astaroth sat rather calmly in his throne, though if one was to pay close enough attention they would see the anger on his face growing. It hit an all time high when it was revealed that Mammon had been betrayed…by yet another woman. His teeth grinded together as he thought back on the battle. Mammon did have on an unusual set of armor…and his actions…they were psychotic indeed. There was no reason to doubt Valmont in this regard, as he was one to witness it. The mention of Leviathan was one that angered him as well, due to his alliance with Gabriel. It seemed he was also surrounded by women. Female ambition was at an all time high apparently, but such a thing was absent in the kingdom of Pride. Finding a suitable female was no easy task for Astaroth. It seemed that was probably a damn good thing. “Women…dangerous creatures…” There were none in his Kingdom that were close to him, but they were still present. He had no reason to fear these females, but if any of them were important to him…this would be a time where his guard would rise. Thankfully, the female issue would be one he wouldn’t be involved in. Now there were two Princesses and even more alliances would likely surface. Lucifer himself had saved Astaroth, surely there was some bigger reason for this. In terms of allies, Astaroth really didn’t have any. “Who do I trust? Nobody but myself.” None of his guards made a single comment or even moved an inch at his words. It really wasn’t something that was hidden after all. “From what I can see…the only choice I have is to ally with other kingdoms…or hire an outside force.” This shit was really getting on his nerves, and it was beginning to show. His anger was rising by the minute, while his body continued to heal. When he was back at full strength…he would have to do everything necessary to increase his power.

 

Razorbackwriter:  Everything was going just as Valmont anticipated. The news was causing the Prince of Pride to grind his teeth menacingly, and he was in agreeance that it was the women of hell that were doing all the damage to the status-quo. “Women…dangerous creatures…”The Prince of Pride uttered, and to this, Valmont simply nodded. Yes, it was sinking in and all truth. Valmont had no reason to lie, for the truth was far more devious. As for who Astaroth trusted, he trusted no body but himself. You couldn’t really blame him for that.

“Well understood, my Lord Pride.”

The race for alliances was on. No doubt Leviathan and Gabriel were both on the move. Lady Lydia had yet to make her move officially, but that would come in good time. Valmont was sure of it.

“From what I can see…the only choice I have is to ally with other kingdoms…or hire an outside force.”

Now here was something interesting. Ally with other kingdoms outside of hell…trust the other remaining princes….or hire an outside force.

“Why hire one….when you can buy one.” The Ambassador said, before pulling out a card from his jacket and then offering it to a guard to give to the Prince. If he read it, it would be a card for none other than Hell’s Kitchen – The laboratory.

“Word has it that the good Doctor is making…an army of super soldiers. His assistant, the hunchback Igor was down at the battlefield gathering bodies of the dead from the war of Wrath. Harvesting them….for the purpose of reanimation and perfecting them. It’s one way of getting a leg up on the other kingdoms if you….have the primary contract for the first battalion.”

The Ambassador waited to see what the Prince of Pride thought of this.

~RB~

Betrayal at the battlements – SS

Scene setting – Wrath Castle.

This story is co-written with five other writers – Temp, Moo, Zetta, Candle and Fu.

 

Temp:  

Astaroth moved alongside Mammon, charging straight into battle. There was clearly something different about Mammon, though there was no real way of knowing what that something was. Whatever it was likely didn’t matter, if anything it was a good thing, seeing Greed so bold and bloodthirsty. The battlefield was of course quite a mess, filled with soldiers and beasts clashing and spilling each others blood. Normally Astaroth wouldn’t be this involved with the combat, as he preferred watching his troops do as he commanded. This situation was a bit different though, and he had decided to make a personal appearance. His army was ready and prepared to march to this Kingdom, but he felt they wouldn’t get here in time to make a significant difference. Since he was able to teleport, he decided to do so and act as a one man army. The tole he would suffer after going back to his normal form would be large, but hopefully it would be worth it.

As he watched Mammon choose a solitary target, who looked rather different in comparison with the Wrath army, he decided to focus his attention on the foot soldiers. Astaroth barreled through the soldiers of Wrath, crushing them as he ran through their ranks. Although he was simply smashing things in his path, he was still very much aware of the battle going on around him. His head was moving in different directions to analyze the angles that a surprise might come from, and he had to keep some of his attention on the sky above in case of projectiles. Such things would hardly leave a scratch on him, but there was no sense in ignoring things being hurled through the sky. As he continued to pounce forward he looked up and took note of a flying object, which he kept his attention on. He wasn’t sure who or what the being was, but it was clearly not your average soldier. As it began to descend towards him he snarled and slammed his limbs into the ground below him, though at an angle. Using this angle and the sudden momentum he shot himself forward and to the side in a large burst of speed, moving away from the falling objects path. Right now he wasn’t trying to fight solo enemies, but rather weaken the Kingdoms defenses and foot soldiers. So for now, he was doing everything he could to avoid these solo fighters. Now that he was away from the falling object, he continued to run forward at full speed, clearly heading for the wall.

Eventually he would make his way up onto the walls of the Kingdom, easily ripping through the forcefield that was created. He jumped up onto the highest point he could find, which enabled him to look down at the battlefield. Using his new found position he opened his mouth and let out a loud and crippling roar all around him. His mouth remained open, and from within magma began to drip out and fall down below him. After a moment of watching the fight, he began to move his hands to his mouth, which he would use to hold onto the magma. As he did so it would become black and distorted, forming into a large blurry black fireball. He began to hurl these down at the soldiers, as well as the Kingdom around him. After exploding and sending chunks of dead soldiers and beasts hurling through the air, the Magma would form into disgusting creatures. They would begin to wail and crawl towards those loyal to Wrath, due to Astaroth controlling them and commanding them to do so. As they found organic life they would explode once again, sending more corpses flying. Astaroth let out another roar as well as a long and satisfied laugh at the carnage, clearly finding the battle amusing so far.Fu:  
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– The Veiled Man had stood there silently as the man clad in dark armor had came at him with high speeds and attempted to swing his powerful blade at him in the pursuit of cutting him down but the man retaliated by turning his body in the opposite direction and swing his blade just as fast at the blade that had came at his left hip . A large shockwave would be released around them as a result of their blades clashing , the blades had shook violently against one another as the Veiled Man’s appearance was partially seen through the dark veil which had cloaked him in its entirety. His light purple-blue skin was seen , and his spiky white hair but only for a second as his blade Eclipse released a loud noise and vibration , the sensation and nostalgia would echo off in the form of the Leviathan Queen of 2 generations previous , Demonic Aura and presence is well known for being different for each person and moreso recognizable easily if they are royalty or were in their day, this blade had held her might . –

” You own a extremely powerful blade. That much is for certain”

– The Veiled Man would push his blade forward upwards to cause her to stagger as he had leaped backwards, his darkened figure would begin growing hazy as he had jumped. If he had leaped at him at this time he would have entered a portal in the form of his hazy body and be transported to the closer region of the castle , there he would find the two princes that he was looking for . If he hadn’t , he would have done more flips backwards until he had returned to his physical state and continued battle if that had been his choice. –

 

Candle:  After making a man’s head pop with ease, Baal stared at soldiers. Oh how scared they looked against him, there trembling faces and shaking bones made him feel alive. It made him feel some type of feeling that he never normally got, most likely because he was a menacing psychopath that only Hell could tame.
Grabbing another soldier, Baal held him out horizontally and ripped his body in half. Using the separated body he chunked it at someone and listened to the thud as a soldier dropped to the ground. With blood on now onto his face the scent of blood made him close his eyes and sniff the beautiful scent in. Now that the scent of blood was in his system the now normal Baal would be turned into a monster who committed such horrors.
Taking off his armored coat his muscles began to enlarge and so did he in height. At the sight of such transformation it looked absolutely disgusting, but it was necessary if he was going to live. His body morphed into a colossal demonic killing machine, when this happened there was no stopping him until the scent of blood was gone from his system. Baal kept the cigar in his mouth and grabbed his axe and turned it into a double sided spear.
Soldiers hesitated to charge at him so Baal charged them and impaled one after another on his spear. Body after body lined up on the cold Hell forged steel. Eventually the tips of the spear would become engulfed in flame, so he threw the spear in the air and caught it on side where there wasn’t any bodies. Then he used all of his imposed strength and tossed it at the direction of Mammon
“I will use your blood to create such a beautiful painting that even Picasso will congratulate me.” He yelled out with his booming hellacious voice.

 

Moo:  The large form of Astaroth proved problematic as he tore through the barrier. The warlocks around the castle could no longer maintain the force field, but it wasn’t as necessary. The cannons were fast at work until the number of the catapults had dwindled down until there were less than half remaining. It was a matter of minutes before a few more would be destroyed. The warlocks focused on protecting the soldiers instead, as the magma Astaroth created was tossed about the field, exploding on impact. Small barriers would surround them momentarily to avoid mass murder of the warriors in the way of the blasts. Instead of say, ten, only a few would take any hit.
Gabriel found herself feeling pleased while her claws smashed through some poor man’s stomach, clenching before she tore away the whole front of him. His stomach tore open, intestines dropping to the ground. She would simply lick her claw and it was another life added to her compilation. Oh yes, she was saving up for the finale.
Her armor was already completely stained with blood along her hands and arms. Her sword was heavier with the amount of carnage she’d collected. She had to give it a good swing to help rid some of the excess blood. Where she had been walking, there was a trail of bodies. Some headless, some cut in half. Others simply missed limbs…or like this poor bastard that crumpled before her…they missed flesh in certain areas.
An idiot swung at her from the left, his blade catching her arm with a clang. The armor in which trailed along this area would catch it before she turned her head to meet his gaze. His already wide eyes grew further. “It’s impolite to stare,” she said meekly. Her sword ran itself through his skull, penetrating the helm he wore as if it were simply tinfoil. That was the power of her Hell-Fire, as it improved her sword’s durability greatly. Her once simple blade had morphed until it was twice as large, curving slightly while it radiated bright red-orange flames.
These flames spread over the corpse upon contact. Had he not already been dead, he would have been screaming bloody murder. She frowned as she tugged at her sword once. The body came with it. Irritated, she pressed her foot against his chest and yanked her sword away. It made a sickeningly sweet noise as it left his head, blood spurting over her. She opened her mouth gladly, taking the blood on her tongue before swallowing. Yum! She made a noise of glee, obviously enjoying her killing spree.
Though admittedly it seemed that Baal was enjoying himself much more thoroughly. She would admire his strength from afar as he tore a body apart before laughing. That’s right! She would have this war finished before the sun set. Mammon would fail. And his head would decorate her throne room, along with Belial’s and Hex’s. A hall of fame, dedicated to those who fell to her feet. Those pathetic men deserved no better place than the floor at her feet. Maybe she would make a coat from his skin. Her blade lowered while she stared off into the distance, the circle of bodies around her giving plenty of warning to other warriors of greed. They simply did not want to fight her. Cowards, the lot of ’em.

 

Zetta:  The Gate-Keeper’s eyes were slit in the skies above from the incoming wind and limbs flying up to his level, his arms crossed in an x-formation before him to collect as much air as he could between his fingers to further halt his fall upon realizing his enemy to be fleeing the scene there. His crash landing seemed futile as the great draconian beast simply jumped a great distance from where he saw Cecil would land. The bloodied warrior did not care for what damage this would do to himself, but as he descended rapidly only wondered if he would make it to him before he could do any massive attacks. He landed, bringing a massive bunch of debris into the air around him. His choice land split majority of the fleshy mass that he had gathered in the air, which was primarily to damage his target further but now had served to break his fall. Still; as he positioned himself to punch through the dragon, the bulk of his hands, his knuckles were built up to withstand the pressure the ground would bring. That which he brought upon himself with that jump. As one who decided the capacity of their flesh, he was not so damaged when his knuckles met the blood-soaked ground.

The entire area around the man would suddenly twist and distort into an incomprehensible sight. The grass rose from the ground and was now blotting out his peripheral vision. For just a few moments while he had been recovering from shock was he then reminded of the fighting going on: Directly ahead of him were Thousands of soldiers all locked in battle out of nowhere, beside him, behind him, all around was fighting going on. Blade pit to blade; Yet not one person turned to the new one that had fallen from the sky. This was a battle-field clearly and the revolving intensity was enough to hike the nerves of any living being. Blood was shed at rapid rates and the ground beneath everyone’s feet was pooling blood, It would become clear now that this was an active genocide, there were simply too many people and escalating casualties to be anything but mass murder committed against royalty. Everyone involved would likely be dead, except for his Princess, that was for sure. And while Cecil could only be in observation if he did not join in as well. The dragon was too far ahead, and he was not going to just chase it down, he would carve a path of blood until he directly saw him again: These people became illusions of his past, a wall of flesh that he would tear down once again. They were impervious to incoming damage from him as what was happening was a scripted showing, no one defeated the Kingdom of Wrath in open combat. The blood under him however was ripe with many different cells and originated in the bodies of living men.

He grew blades of sharp diseased organs, becoming dense from his power. Taking those; he began running point-blank ahead trying to ensure the dragon had no place on the ground while Cecil still breathed. The warlocks were doing a fine job of saving the ones on the floor, while Cecil would make it unsafe for the remaining opposition of grunts until he found one strong. His arms tore people in half, some would manage to cut him before then, but would be split apart all the same. His eyes had deadened and became cold completely, with no satisfaction as long as Gabrielle remained necessary on this battle-field.

 

Razorbackwriter:  It was now a battle that rivaled any of the great events in history. The humans world of Terra could not possibly compete with the likes of the Demonic Princes and their savage armies. One might think it strange that all this was over the simple killing of a Prince by Gabriel, however one must understand that this was Hell, and the Seven Princes were of Sin. Each driven by that desire; and what could you expect from one like Mammon, whose true nature of Greed was showing through. Mammon had one of the best armies, fought in the most hellish of armor at great risk to himself….and all to prove a point. Hell was run by men, not the scantily clad wenches that easily destroy their mates; such as what had happened to Belial. In Mammon’s mind there was no Princess of Hell, just a whore that preyed on men’s needs and wasted when no longer of use.

Within the beserker armor; great change was occurring to the Prince of Greed. He no longer sounded like the pompous sexist pig of a man, but he was now more beast than anything else. Mammon chose his first target on which to wield his soul crying sword. With a great powered swing, he attempted to slice the Veiled man in two – who had been mostly obscured by a dark veil for the start of the fighting. But he was not totally unprepared for Mammon, having met the upward slash of Mammon’s blade with his own. The clash of two swords would cause a massive shock wave of sound and vibration, that reverberated back down through the handle and would jolt Mammon in such a way, that he fell back and had to grip his sword’s handle tighter. It was in this moment that the veiled man’s appearance really shone through. Light purple blue skin and spiky white hair. Mammon let out a roar of laughter on seeing his foe for the first time. It was hollowed, as if he had spoken down a long tunnel. .

” You own a extremely powerful blade. That much is for certain” The veiled man said, before using the momentum of his blade in a forward push to drive Mammon back. Mammon, who was still at full strength, did take a step back but planted his boot hard by the heel into the floor to slow and steady his stance once more, as he watched the veiled man flip backwards. Mammon changed his hand grip now to a two handed hold on the blade. To follow the veiled man in Mammon’s eyes was to lead him into a trap; away from the main prize of that bitch; Gabriel. Snarling he spat the word”COWARD!”, before his attention was seized by the whistling sound of an oncoming object. The skull helm turned sharply, where he then saw the oncoming of a spear being thrown at him with strength by none other than….Baal. The fire tipped spear blazing, struck the left shoulder of Mammon, it’s spear head piercing the armor plating. Mammon roared not in pain, but in anger. His closest ally had turned on him. Mammon released a hand from his sword grip and then reached up as the spear was wedged into his armor plating, with blood spewing out from the hole around the blade tip. One with the armor, he snapped the spear length free from the arrow head which was slowly being consumed by the armor itself as it worked to close the gap in the plating – forging the metal into itself. The spear length clattered to the ground as Mammon yelled back at Baal. ”And I’ll make you cook and eat your own flaccid cock! You treacherous pig!”

It was clear that there was now no love between the Prince of Gluttony and the Prince of Greed.

The bowmen, though dwindling in number due to the cannon fire and the constant attacks from the Wrath army were not retreating as one might imagine. Flanked now by the horseman, they made a full on run at the Castle to take on ALL of the Wrath army in a squirmish that would go down as the Day Hell turned in on itself. The battle elephants were now having to defend themselves, some spooked as their drivers were struck by enemy fire, and were now charging indiscriminately at the waves of soldiers regardless of whose side they were on. It was demon against demon, orc against orc. The Greed army was under orders to fight to the last man, and that was exactly what it intended to do.

The beserker armor was now changing forms as it became more skeletal in its shape, though black as night. The loud footfalls of the Prince of Greed would signal he was on the march to end the one that had started all of this, with her murderous spree. He knew Baal would probably make another attack, and boy did he hope he did. Mammon knew that if Baal was under the spell of the Princess, it would distract him from trying to end the Prince of Greed in battle. Baal only had enough blood to use his brain…or his cock, so if she was there flaunting her womanhood, Baal would be put off. Mammon was counting on it.

”COME FACE ME, YOU STINKING TART. I CAN SMELL YOUR FISHY SNATCH FROM HERE!”

 

~RB~

 

 

Brother against Brother – SS

Brother against Brother.

Scene setting : Wrath Castle

This story is co-written with five other writers; Temp, Moo, Zetta, Candle and Fu.

 

Razorbackwriter:  It was no surprise to the Prince of Greed that the arrival of his armed forces would cause a stir, not to mention that the Castle soon sounded loudly that they were to prepare their army for a war. There was no sign of the Prince of Gluttony, and this much meant he was either inside, or somewhere on the grounds. He had not yet made an appearance, but something else did. A large ominous shadow that was so great in size that it cast its darkness over the very entrance to the castle itself. Red eyes shone out from within the shadow and a voice – loud enough to be heard rang out sending a wave of dire intent of malice across the entire army of Greed.

” Proceed , if you so wish .” The voice said.

The Prince of Greed eased up on his black fire mount and stared into the darkness, no doubt this was evoked by a powerful being loyal to the Princess of Wrath. Why else would it put on such a show. At this precise moment, the Prince of Greed reached for his helm and placed it squarely upon his head – the terrifying skull helm completing the beserker armor. A long loud howl erupted from within the armor as the power of its creation was now being absorbed by the Prince of Greed.

The Prince again raised his fist, only this time he sounded the order to begin the attack.

“DESTROY THE CASTLE AND ALL WITHIN!”

The roar of the army was heard. Massive catapults that had been dragged into battle by the large elephants began their assault, with massive rocks being hurtled at the castle walls with deadly accuracy. The first row of bowman lowered, with the second taking aim and firing arrows high into the sky to strike at those that manned the walls to protect the Princess from harm. Wave after wave, line after line of warriors charged forward, with the rear being the horsemen, that brought up the rear and raced for the walls of the castle. No doubt there would be a flood of the Wrath army coming out of the entrance, which unbeknownst to the Prince and his army had been opened in behind the dark shadow creature.

The Prince charged forward on his horse, riding straight for the Shadow creature, drawing his sword as his horse thundered at great speed. Large ladders were being thrown up against the battlements and walls, which would have warriors begin their assault, as the bowman continued to take aim at those on the tops of the walls and turrets.

It was a war being fought on many fronts, but the Prince was riding right into the storm. He was no coward, but would face the bitch on the throne, even if it brought him his death.

 

~RB~

 

Temp:  Astaroth had teleported from his kingdom to the outskirts of the kingdom of wrath, where Gabriel now resided. To be perfectly honest, he hadn’t expected Mammon to dive straight into battle without a proper plan. Then again, Mammon probably wouldn’t be expecting to receive assistance from Pride himself. Dominance, battle, being the best, these were all things that Astaroth held a solid hand in. One mistake people seemed to make was mistaking Pride with Arrogance, which was a terrible mistake to make. Astaroth demanded the very best, both from himself, and from those that served him. He refused to have anything under him that he couldn’t be proud of. His army, his kingdom, and his own power were all things he found this Pride in. Although he had not personally taken part in many battles, he was far from inexperienced or unskilled. This would be the perfect time to show that he was not all bark, and that he had quite a vicious bite.

Standing atop a nearby mountain, he took in the battlefield for what it was, a mess. The shadow creature was seemingly on Gabriels side, and there seemed to be gathering forces within the kingdom of Wrath. Astaroth was well aware of Leviathan’s stupid involvement, but wasn’t sure if he would arrive with an army as well. Then of course there was the Glutton, whatever side he was on was unknown. Where everyone’s allegiances were placed would be made completely clear soon enough. Gabriel surprised him with her boldness, but she was a clear problem regardless. “No point holding back, now is there?” With that said, he took a deep breath and prepared himself for what was next. He immediately shot down onto all fours, and from the ground shackles locked around his wrists and legs, holding him in place. His eyes turned red as his powerful aura grew, and grew. A terrible roar would come from him as his body would suddenly change completely. He had not used this form in quite some time, in fact, he doubted any of the other princes even knew about it.

 

The enormous demon stood from his previous position, ripping the shackles free from the ground as he stood at his full height. Black magma dripped from his open mouth and trailed behind him as he stomped forward towards the kingdom.“I will grant you my aid, Mammon!” He shouted in a very loud and demonic voice, as he continued to make his way towards the battlefield. Eventually he would be stepping through Greed’s army, the likes of which was sure to stay out of his way. Once close to the front lines he would return to all fours, and use all of his limbs to bolt forward towards Mammon. Astaroth caught up with him very quickly, and slowed down to ride beside him, going into battle head on.

 

Fu:  
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– The giant mass of shadows had veiled the soldiers that belonged to the kingdom of Wrath , as they continued to march onwards . The darkness began to lighten and concentrate in one area , which a single being could be seen . In one person’s train of thoughts he would seem plain and thin . But for those who had the power to sense a person’s strength through their aura they would be able to tell he was an ominous being , whether or not he was actually loyal to the Princess of Wrath has yet to be seen . As he couldn’t be recognized on either end as a ally or foe , but he stood in between both sides ; facing Mammon’s army however as his beading eyes could brighten , standing entirely still as the soldiers of Wrath ran past him . The Veiled Man could be clearly seen throughout the masses of soldiers clashing , but he didn’t do a thing at this moment in time. But reach for his primary blade ; Eclipse . –

 

Candle:  Clutching the axe with a firm grip his facial expression turned immediately dull. Though he was actually excited to murder someone, despite his uninterested facial expression. Decapitation and mutilation would be the best part of his day, which made his overall day seem pretty boring.
Now that the fighting began going on, Baal charged in with both hands on his axe. His cigar was still placed in his mouth firmly and if it did get taken away from him he’d be engulfed with rage. A soldier came up to him slowly and looked up at Baal who towered him in height. grabbing him by his helmet, he squeezed the metal helmet tightly in his ferocious grip and squeezed his head until it popped.
It was a pretty satisfying feeling, just to hear someone’s brain pop like a balloon was enjoying. He lifted up his axe with both hands and began swinging wildly. Tendons and muscles snapped on instant contact, in one swipe he’d cut through armor and bodies. Each diagonal swipe he made resulted in someone loosing half there body or head, which was still good to Baal.
If he did miss on the other hand, he’d kick that person to the ground and stomp there brain in while people slashed his reinforced coat. He’d gotten one of the local blacksmiths to put chain mail along the inner part of the coat, making it a secret until someone actually hit his coat with a sword. Even if he did get hit, his bloodlust made his pain tolerance high enough that through any injury he’d fight till the very end.
“Just like the good ole times.” Baal said as his axe sliced through the bone that connected the right arm together.

 

Moo:  The army was organized. Prepared in a matter of minutes as catapults began hurling rocks at the tower. Warlocks within vicinity would hold a force field that defied many large boulders. Granted about a third of them managed to pass through if holes were created. The magicians themselves would be safe from open fire in the meantime.
Gabriel’s warriors ran into battle with war cries, the wrath apparent on their faces. It was as if they were offended due to the attack. Whoever had the balls to bring a war to this turf may have been insane. Though not as insane as the new prince of wrath herself.
She laughed while she watched her new and unexpected ally hurl himself into the mass of bodies in the now penetrated wall. His ax swung this way and that. Blood spurted from different body parts. Heads flew, bodies crumpled. Limbs were severed, or they were simply cut in half. She loved the show. In fact, he deserved her applaud; she did such.
Now the real debate was walking into battle herself. Should she do this much, she might create a bigger problem for Mammon. She smiled as she thought of all the delicious souls that awaited her. Her eyes scanned over the army, in which was slowly decreasing in size in the front. The back still held many catapults, despite her men’s attempts to bring them down with their cannons. Gabriel pursed her lips while she looked at the wall. Fighting took place. More slaughtering. Her kingdom would truly be painted red this day. Perfect! It was as if they were celebrating her new command, gifting her their bodies and souls. And none of her men would turn on her; they admired her strength if she could kill Belial single-handedly. They most likely had faith she would do the same with Mammon.

“What’s this?” Something towered in the distance in a matter of moments. “Hm?” She cocked her head to the side. Astaroth had returned. It seemed he couldn’t go a day without making his presence known. In fact, that would be two times today. A laugh erupted. Three princes would die in a single day, granted she was able to murder them before they fled with their tails between their legs.
The fire on her horns grew in size, spreading over her forehead as if she were wearing a crown. Her eyes slitted further, glowing gold with specks of red. They seemed liquid like fire while her claws grew from her hands. She bared her fangs at the first few soldiers she laid eyes on. This day was going to be tremendous! “Come now. I know you can do better, Mammon.” Even if he weren’t able to hear her, she was satisfied in saying it. She took a breath and blew, torching those in front of her before moving on at her own casual pace, a smile playing over her lips.

 

Zetta:  With the bout of the supposed incoming of his new leader’s command over Wrath’s army now clashing with the quickly formed army of Greed, two princes already having made their appearance while even a third threatened to lead an attack of his own. Cecil was reminded of home; the one he blew himself up to escape. It seemed he was meant to only be replaced in the same sort of place he had left then. Now however that he was finally fighting for a standard cause he was going to be much more effective with causing the death of others.. While he was no vanguard he was the very first to take a stand against the opposing army. The battle-lusting demonic humanoid, Cecil Terumi was on the field, leaving his mark everywhere that lay blood with risen torrents of clumped flesh bearing the ultimate disease. They held grown spikes within them, the primary offensive of such attacks. Staked on some of these were men on both sides, because Cecil’s attacks were to widespread for specific targets when everyone was fighting like this. The blood of his enemies filled his nostrils, he enjoyed every part of large scale battles.. All except the times when his strength proved to much for a man’s conscience and he managed to draw fear from their wretched minds. He slayed them still, for being cowardly in the face of imminent danger, but took pity on such weak souls seemingly forced into the tides of battle.

Within his own vicinity; the very middle of the battle taking place he was rampaging, clearly searching for a target to truly have his own fight with. He could effortlessly slay foot soldiers after all but that did not mean that he was truly enjoying himself here; because his attacks could surprisingly kill off a good man before he even would get off his stronger techniques.. If he could not bring back the head of someone important, Bella, the new princess of Wrath would likely pay him no attention as a gate-keeper.. That was when he noticed a man galloping on a horse in the head of the front, cloaked for the most part without any heavy armor like these grunts he was up against.. He was concerned, men like that were vanguards themselves or actual leaders. Most likely, that was the one heading this army. Odd for one to be this deep in the battle, but he moved with his instincts. Ducking under one spear coming towards him but then being impaled by another, one from his own men. Cecil coughed blood on the blade.. If anyone touched it they would be sorry, then he looked up at his attack, only to be pierced again through his ribs from one clad in breasted armor, that one was female.. A soldier on his side, as there weren’t any females in Greed’s army, Mammon’s disdain for them were widely known. He was hit on both sides, by both sides. Before succumbing to the combo he hooked both weapons under his arms and spun himself to create a temporary safe radius before he was charged at again. He twisted himself and them with his crazy strength, his eyes completely focused for now as he wanted to know just where that one he noticed was headed. If he was going to Gabrielle he would just have to die before he could reach her like the rest of this scum…

Once clear of foes for a second he leaped into the air, enhancing his cells with inhuman results to get hundreds of feet in the air. The spot as his wing-bones flexed and then began to spasm uncontrollably, signalling his taking on a pair of wings. Though they were weighed down by his extended flesh and bone and prevented him from full flight, but he could guide himself with a comfortable glide.. From here he witnessed a beast taking form, growing from within the opposition to become what he could only describe as a massive black dragon.. With this he would have to forget about that other one.. The beast charged straight over the other army and knocked the others Cecil fought with away like bowling pins. He could not allow something like that to reach Wrath directly without gambling with a siege. So he made his way for it, though it’s speed as a giant outmaneuvered his slowly guided gliding. To match that he lowered his arms slightly from their former 90 degree point to an an acute angle where he would descend faster to a bigger goal. He chased after the dragon until he caught up and simply dropped himself from a few hundred feet above to crash-land on it. He swarmed his body with extra masses of flesh over himself to better weigh himself down after balling himself up, taking on the form of a human cannon ball for maximum damage. Cecil was moving fast in a diagonal angle as the wind still carried him, left alone like this he would bust a hole through the black dragon’s back, while he himself had no opposition for what counter might have come as his vision was obscured and his entire move was focused on an attack.

 

Razorbackwriter:  The battle field was awash with the blood of those that had fallen as the first causalities of this war against Wrath. It was almost being played out in slow motion, as the two sides came together in a sickening mass of warriors spurred on to kill the other till none were left standing. Limbs and heads fell so easily, others impaled upon large spears, driven deep into the moist earth. Eyes seeing out to nothingness as death was to come to many. The cries and shouts, screams and wails were but music to the maestros of this calamity. Was it true that fools rush in, or had the Prince of Greed believed that Gabriel would not possibly be able to gather enough support to counter his attack. From the outset, the odds were in the Prince’s favor. Surprise being the first card dealt. Little did he know that the slimy Prince of Gluttony had fallen under the spell of Gabriel’s swollen bosom and hourglass form. Traitors die a dishonorable death when a deal is struck, and no doubt there would be one to collect payment.

Ferociously, the Prince swung his sword at any that he came upon, as he thundered towards the entrance, the gaping maw of the Castle of Wrath. One unlucky bastard tried to take down the Prince with an axe, but the Prince had already drawn his sword back and swung it with deadly accuracy, slicing through the soldiers neck and then cutting through the vital arteries, severing the bone that kept the man’s head on his shoulders. Rich crimson blood spewed forth before the head simply flew straight off the soldiers shoulders and landed a good six feet away. The headless body teetering as if it had no idea what had just happened. A moment, and it would crumple to the ground in a pathetic heap.

The blade collected yet another weeping soul, to join in the chorus with the two hundred other already embedded within the blade’s edge. The horrific cries screaming out in warning as the Prince raced on for the entrance, but as he did so – there was the loud pounding of massive feet. It was coming from behind and sounded louder than any of his battle elephants. The skull helm turned and it was with something of a surprise that another great demon had joined into the fray.

“I will grant you my aid, Mammon!”

It was Astaroth. His voice unmistakable and his gigantic form overshadowing all of the other warriors on the battle field. Out from the skull helm, the Prince of Greed could barely contain his pleasure at the sight and offer made by Astaroth to join the melee.

“Good! Let us dispatch…the welcome wagon!” Mammon’s voice sounded peculiar coming out from the skull helm, as though he was not quite himself. With Astaroth racing along side the Prince, they would be a formidable force to those that drew their weapons to guard that precious slag….Gabriel.

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The first to come into sight was the being that had been formed from the dark shadow that had veiled the castle in the beginning of the war. Now he was in clear sight, with pulsating red eyes that shone out – clutching what looked to be a sword of legendary status. He was standing perfectly still, as though waiting to be taken head on…and Mammon would not disappoint. As the Prince roared in his charge, he spat. “The first great traitor to Lucifer to fall to my blade!”

Mammon leapt off his steed, which reared up before turning and racing away back through the fighting soldiers to return to Greed Castle, as the fully armored Mammon approached the Veiled man. His spiked gloves of his right hand gripping tight around the hilt of his sword. The Prince of Greed showed no fear as he closed the distance between them, as the battle raged all around. There was no words of challenge, for they were not needed. Whoever this creature be, he served Gabriel, and thus….he was the enemy.

With a terrible roar, he then charged at the veiled man, swinging his sword back, and as it would be brought forward in an upper slash to go from the veiled man’s left hip diagonally through his torso and to come out at his right shoulder. The menace and power behind the swing would be with an almost super human force, which was attributed to the beserker armor that he wore. Should the hit land it would slice the being in half . If not, they were in for a battle royale on who would die first.

 

~RB~