03-21-2011, 01:32 AM
"It was. . . His fault. . ."
There was silence within the tower, The Fallen sits in darkness, iron helmet within his unholy grasp, runic eyes set upon its features. Softly, in an almost contemplative manner, his claws trace over the face of the armor, the metallic protrusions following the small bumps within it, nicks from battle. Although, something seems to click within The Fallen's mind, curling his claws up and violently scratching them through the very face of that metallic head, leaving five deep marks in it. In a silent rage, The Fallen lifts the helmet up and throws it towards the ground in front of him, slamming it against the wood with a loud crash before the tower returns to its original peaceful stillness. Quiet as the dead.
"If only he. . . Never existed. . ."
Amongst this deathly silence, the sound of wings were heard outside, the voice of a woman. None of this reached The Fallen's ears. Her intentions were good, entering the tower baring gifts of a nature which would infuriate The Fallen. Then, her voice was heard once more, these words reach his ears, causing him to become aware of the presence of someone whom he shows a distinct distaste for. Rage boils over within his mind, filling his gaze with a red hue. Berserk. There is only death and chaos in his mind, the hunger was too much, ticking within his mind again and again and again. With this, The Fallen's body moves with a deathly movement. Boots thumping on the ground, blade dragging behind him.
"He will. . . Fall before me. . ."
The Fallen comes into view of the woman whom begins to attempt to explain her presence within the tower to him. None of this matters. The man will die. It would seem the woman attempts to turn and walk off. But this doesn't bode well with The Fallen, a black hand extending out of his left palm and moving to seize the woman's arm. At first, she was surprised, but a burst of light immediately makes the hand disintegrate in the air. No matter what The Fallen throws at her, an unholy burst of energy, a runeblade itself, nothing stops her from running. It was only when he steps from the railing, plummeting down to the ground with a crash and a series of wicked cracks of his bones, does it stop her from running.
"The hunger. . . Is too much. . ."
With little hesitation, The Fallen attempts to grab at her once more with a pair of shadow hands. Although, the woman, with an affinity for the light, easily blows them off as if they were nothing. He continues forwards. The manipulation of her blood, boiling it, it does not seem to affect her, the necrotic magic filling her but her powers are strong enough to keep them back. In response to The Fallen's blows, the woman begins to fight back with one of the only things to cause him pain. The Light. Yet he continues forwards. Attack after attack knocks The Fallen back until he is pushed far enough back to fall from the ramp, slamming down upon the ground below once more, cracks forming under his body.
"I will. . . Stop him from. . . Destroying her. . ."
Ruthless determination drives The Fallen, standing up from his position and turning to face the woman again whom stands above him. Without stopping, he begins to walk around and ascend the stairs once more. It was now that she began to spew her lies upon him. Shadow. Memory. Two things which The Fallen was never going to be as long as he could help it. But these words only angered him further, his blade held tightly in his grip, the intent to kill running through his mind. Relentless blow after blow, trading between slashes of the runeblade and blasts of the Holy Light, each of them gaining wound after wound, neither seeming to come out as the victor of the assault.
"No one. . . Will get in my. . . Way . . ."
The woman is tossed down the ramp, beaten and bloodied. The Fallen burned with the Holy Light but nothing seems to stop the monster. His blade long since gone, impaled into the stone floor. With a deathly stare, he walks down the ramp whilst the woman begins to struggle back onto her feet. This does not last long for her though, The Fallen sending a plated boot directly into her chest, causing her to sprawl out upon the ground in pain. His claws curled up, the woman before him in pain, claws stained with her very own blood. The only things running through his mind was blood lust, an intent to kill which shines brightly in his runic blue eyes. An embodiment of anger and hate.
"Worthless. . . Pathetic. . . Weak. . ."
However, this was not the end for her, she still has much left. Placing both of her hands upon the ground, the area around her erupts with a strong pillar of Light. This magic seems to engulf The Fallen, causing him to roar in unfathomable pain and slam against the wall whilst he stumbles along. The woman is fierce though, causing another to erupt around him. The Fallen's pain is only multiplied, his anger seething out of his body, runic gaze set directly at her. In one last bout of strength, he storms his way towards her, each and every claw on his right hand extending out, gleaming within the dim light around them. Growing closer and closer, an unholy grow emitting from the depths of his throat.
"Die. . .!"
All five of The Fallen's claws sink into the stomach of the woman, causing her to give off a sound of pain. Neither of them notice the door open. The woman raises both of her hands to The Fallen's head as a large amount of light is flooded through his body, pain rushing through every inch of him as his claws are removed from her stomach, taking a few laboured steps backwards. His mind is still red, staring towards the woman whom just caused so much pain for him, watching as she collapses to the floor, unable to take any more punishment upon her body. For only a split second, The Fallen believes himself to be victorious, this does not last long at all. The voice of a woman ringing into his ears.
"Al'thorai, back the Fel off!"
It was too late. The runic glow of The Fallen's eyes begins to dissipate, the necrotic magic keeping his body alive all but destroyed by the sudden influx of light. His body falling limp and plummeting backwards, landing on the ground with a loud crash. All the while, the woman is tended to, healed, nursed. The Fallen simply lays there, the blue of his eyes flickering away whilst staring at the ceiling, not a single limb chooses to move, not even a finger. Piece by piece, that light disappears, the last thing embedded into his mind being what he was unable to achieve, what he wished for so much but couldn't simply reach out and take. Something that was drifting away slowly. The runic glow fades. Then Silence.
". . . Kitten?"
There was silence within the tower, The Fallen sits in darkness, iron helmet within his unholy grasp, runic eyes set upon its features. Softly, in an almost contemplative manner, his claws trace over the face of the armor, the metallic protrusions following the small bumps within it, nicks from battle. Although, something seems to click within The Fallen's mind, curling his claws up and violently scratching them through the very face of that metallic head, leaving five deep marks in it. In a silent rage, The Fallen lifts the helmet up and throws it towards the ground in front of him, slamming it against the wood with a loud crash before the tower returns to its original peaceful stillness. Quiet as the dead.
"If only he. . . Never existed. . ."
Amongst this deathly silence, the sound of wings were heard outside, the voice of a woman. None of this reached The Fallen's ears. Her intentions were good, entering the tower baring gifts of a nature which would infuriate The Fallen. Then, her voice was heard once more, these words reach his ears, causing him to become aware of the presence of someone whom he shows a distinct distaste for. Rage boils over within his mind, filling his gaze with a red hue. Berserk. There is only death and chaos in his mind, the hunger was too much, ticking within his mind again and again and again. With this, The Fallen's body moves with a deathly movement. Boots thumping on the ground, blade dragging behind him.
"He will. . . Fall before me. . ."
The Fallen comes into view of the woman whom begins to attempt to explain her presence within the tower to him. None of this matters. The man will die. It would seem the woman attempts to turn and walk off. But this doesn't bode well with The Fallen, a black hand extending out of his left palm and moving to seize the woman's arm. At first, she was surprised, but a burst of light immediately makes the hand disintegrate in the air. No matter what The Fallen throws at her, an unholy burst of energy, a runeblade itself, nothing stops her from running. It was only when he steps from the railing, plummeting down to the ground with a crash and a series of wicked cracks of his bones, does it stop her from running.
"The hunger. . . Is too much. . ."
With little hesitation, The Fallen attempts to grab at her once more with a pair of shadow hands. Although, the woman, with an affinity for the light, easily blows them off as if they were nothing. He continues forwards. The manipulation of her blood, boiling it, it does not seem to affect her, the necrotic magic filling her but her powers are strong enough to keep them back. In response to The Fallen's blows, the woman begins to fight back with one of the only things to cause him pain. The Light. Yet he continues forwards. Attack after attack knocks The Fallen back until he is pushed far enough back to fall from the ramp, slamming down upon the ground below once more, cracks forming under his body.
"I will. . . Stop him from. . . Destroying her. . ."
Ruthless determination drives The Fallen, standing up from his position and turning to face the woman again whom stands above him. Without stopping, he begins to walk around and ascend the stairs once more. It was now that she began to spew her lies upon him. Shadow. Memory. Two things which The Fallen was never going to be as long as he could help it. But these words only angered him further, his blade held tightly in his grip, the intent to kill running through his mind. Relentless blow after blow, trading between slashes of the runeblade and blasts of the Holy Light, each of them gaining wound after wound, neither seeming to come out as the victor of the assault.
"No one. . . Will get in my. . . Way . . ."
The woman is tossed down the ramp, beaten and bloodied. The Fallen burned with the Holy Light but nothing seems to stop the monster. His blade long since gone, impaled into the stone floor. With a deathly stare, he walks down the ramp whilst the woman begins to struggle back onto her feet. This does not last long for her though, The Fallen sending a plated boot directly into her chest, causing her to sprawl out upon the ground in pain. His claws curled up, the woman before him in pain, claws stained with her very own blood. The only things running through his mind was blood lust, an intent to kill which shines brightly in his runic blue eyes. An embodiment of anger and hate.
"Worthless. . . Pathetic. . . Weak. . ."
However, this was not the end for her, she still has much left. Placing both of her hands upon the ground, the area around her erupts with a strong pillar of Light. This magic seems to engulf The Fallen, causing him to roar in unfathomable pain and slam against the wall whilst he stumbles along. The woman is fierce though, causing another to erupt around him. The Fallen's pain is only multiplied, his anger seething out of his body, runic gaze set directly at her. In one last bout of strength, he storms his way towards her, each and every claw on his right hand extending out, gleaming within the dim light around them. Growing closer and closer, an unholy grow emitting from the depths of his throat.
"Die. . .!"
All five of The Fallen's claws sink into the stomach of the woman, causing her to give off a sound of pain. Neither of them notice the door open. The woman raises both of her hands to The Fallen's head as a large amount of light is flooded through his body, pain rushing through every inch of him as his claws are removed from her stomach, taking a few laboured steps backwards. His mind is still red, staring towards the woman whom just caused so much pain for him, watching as she collapses to the floor, unable to take any more punishment upon her body. For only a split second, The Fallen believes himself to be victorious, this does not last long at all. The voice of a woman ringing into his ears.
"Al'thorai, back the Fel off!"
It was too late. The runic glow of The Fallen's eyes begins to dissipate, the necrotic magic keeping his body alive all but destroyed by the sudden influx of light. His body falling limp and plummeting backwards, landing on the ground with a loud crash. All the while, the woman is tended to, healed, nursed. The Fallen simply lays there, the blue of his eyes flickering away whilst staring at the ceiling, not a single limb chooses to move, not even a finger. Piece by piece, that light disappears, the last thing embedded into his mind being what he was unable to achieve, what he wished for so much but couldn't simply reach out and take. Something that was drifting away slowly. The runic glow fades. Then Silence.
". . . Kitten?"
![[Image: tumblr_nfm4t0FZcT1rtcd58o1_r1_500.gif]](https://33.media.tumblr.com/3291026593060f4cddcea972b198a89e/tumblr_nfm4t0FZcT1rtcd58o1_r1_500.gif)