Venturing through the dark barren cobblestone walkways of the city, his eyes would trace the surroundings. Not a soul strayed through the city, which made it all the more comfortable for him. No longer would he have to put up with the hateful eyes or even the cruel words that would grace his ears. Not many accepted him for who he was, in fact they all had feared him and shunned him back to the deepest darkest parts of the city. However, that all changed for him when a man had shown him the kindness he so richly desired. With food in his stomach, new clothes on his back, and gold at his waist he was ready for his trek. Though the trek wasn’t of his idea, but more so of the man’s. He still was prepared to make it at all costs; after all he did owe this man a lot for doing what he did.

Patting the envelope that lay just within the confines of his shirt, a smile would cross his lips. He would repay this man by delivering this letter in one piece just as he was asked, but what would he do after that? The thought seemed to bother him and the smile would soon drift from his features as quickly as it had come. Would he have to return here and face his torment all over again, or could he possibly go somewhere else? What good would it do…As far as he knew; they would probably treat him just the same as these people had.

Faltering in his steps, his eyes would fall deftly upon the three figures up in front of him. He had remembered them from somewhere, but he couldn’t quite place it. Not until one of them stepped into the light, causing his features to light up for a brief instance. It was the man that tried to force him to leave town only but two weeks ago and somewhere in the midst of the struggle, his rabbit had bitten deep into the man’s arm. Surely if he had known that he was still in town, he would more the less try to start something, so he needed to find a way out and in a hurry.

Swallowing heavily, he looked around quickly only to find an alleyway and nothing more. Taking his chances he darted off in a full blown run for it, only to hear the voices behind him. Great…They knew he was here, that’s the last thing he needed. The town hated him enough as it was and to find out that he ‘attacked’ another man again would only get him kicked out forever. As he entered the alleyway, he all too late realized it to be a dead end. Quickly his eyes darted across his surroundings in hopes to find something…Anything to get him out of this place. But he was too late as he could feel the eyes barring down on him from behind.

Slowly turning around to face the three men, he could feel the fear setting in on him. Steadily his blood began to pump throughout the very core makeup of his body as his heart began to beat faster and faster. He was trapped with no way out and nothing to defend himself with. Without warning the three men began to step further into the alleyway, the lead man speaking in a deep tone, “I told you to leave boy, that you weren’t wanted here, especially after what you did to me. So since you don’t want to leave, I’m going to show you exactly what’ll happen if you continue to stay.” Out of instinct his only response was to back away as they headed towards him, but it wouldn’t be long before he was hindered from even doing that much. Feeling the cool brick of the wall behind him press against the thin fabric of his shirt, his eyes would soon grow wide as he watched the men now advance closer and closer to him.

Just as the lead man would draw his arm high into the air to bring the club down upon the boy’s head; the boy’s eyes would flash a bright crimson red. Blinking a few times, the man shrugged it off and brought the club careening down to the top of the boy’s head. At that exact instant, his hand shot up to catch the club and hold it in its place. Caught off guard by the boy’s actions the man tried to furiously pull his club from the boy’s grasp, only to no avail. Just then he began to push the club back towards the man, and in one last effort he quickly twisted his hand off to the side, snapping the club from the Man’s grasp. With that he tossed the club to a clatter on the ground between the man’s legs. Stumbling backwards a few steps, the man tripped over the club and flopped to the ground on his back. At that instant the other two quickly darted off from the alley, leaving the leader to deal with the boy himself.

Stepping forward a few paces, a sharp pain would stop him dead in his tracks as it shot throughout his entire entity. The fear was beginning to turn him, he could feel the power surging deep within him, threatening to break him apart from the inside out. Lifting his hands to his head they would drag their small digits through the long tendrils of silver hair. As they reached the back of his head they would ball themselves into tightly woven fists. Pressing both of his arms together, they would shield his face from view as he hunched forward. Pain and agony rocked his frame as a change had begun to take place. Muscles expanded, bones changed and shifted with size, causing him to throw his arms off to the side and release a tormented cry of agony. The sound of his cry would be heard throughout half of the city, but the only one to hear it would be the man just in front of him.

Once the change was complete all would fall still and where the boy once stood would be a beast. Dark crimson eyes would glow in the darkness of the alley; fanged teeth would set themselves in a demonic grin, but the rest of him….Wasn’t quite right. Not only did his size double, but his visage and flesh have taken on a new change. His cheeks were shallow, his jaw enlarged enough to support the rows of razor sharp teeth, and lastly his eyes had become sunken and stretched. Lastly his skin pigment had changed into that of a deep coarse red scale like state. Truly, he had become a freak of nature, but that was only half of this man’s troubles.

Staring up at the demon he had began to quickly scurry away, stumbling all the while as he tried to get to his feet and maintain his balance. But the man’s hopes were only fleeting as the demon took chase after him. Upon nearing him as they entered the street, his right hand clenched into a tightly woven fist and brought it crashing in towards the man’s jawline. Barring his knuckles down into the bone of the man’s jaw, he continued forth, which caused the man’s body to bring itself into a rotation as he flopped to the ground lifeless. Snarling, his eyes landed down upon the fallen man and then moved off to another figure that seemed to enter the area….

Gregory had come to Taras with few goals. He had travelled long and hard, through forests and over them, fighting all along the way. Thieves, beasts and much anything with legs and a heartbeat had decided to challenge him, and each he had met and as of yet surpassed. He was weary of combat and flight, and thus Taras was a rest. He would stay here for a few days and relax. He had made a friend of an innkeeper and would be boarded and fed for next to nothing as long as he ate always at their tavern. People angelic in appearance tend to attract attention of the curious and religious, and many good souls had been strengthened.

Children had been taken on flight and taught the ways of good. "Some day, the god of light shall return," He would say with a reassuring smile, "And those strong of soul shall be there to see him." He would smile to himself as the star struck children would hop about, celebrating the visit of a god who had not yet come. Deep inside he truly did hope should the sun god return, there would still be those in his service, but each day he watched evil corrode, and each day he killed evil. But not only would he strengthen the children, but the sickly and weak would be healed as best as possible. His days of rest had turned to more work than travelling, and much casting had made him very weary.

Therefore, on his 3rd day in Taras, he decided to take a stroll at around lunchtime, much to the dismay of the shop keep. The soreness in his wings was beginning to dissipate on this day, but they would not allow him to forget them so easily. His legs were now fine, the walk even feeling good on them, and his spirits were higher than the heavens. At least, for the first part of the day. He had eaten a lunch of ripe fruits outside, watching out at the ocean from the roof of a bowyer's shop. The fruits were free, as he had unabatedly returned the stand-owner's son to faith, bringing joy back to the pit of the man's soul. He seemed to have that effect, for the most part.

The hot mid-day sun over Taras was abusive for most of the afternoon, and craving a cool, relaxing walk, Gregory turned to the wide shaded allies of the city. The way was cluttered with garbage and small animals. Interested with the variety of wild-life found within the ally, a striking white cat caught his attention. The cat was seated on a wall over dozens of other cats and garbage, as though standing above the grimy, uncleanliness. The end of the ally came abruptly as it opened up to another part of the city. An old circle, perhaps the location of a few shops once upon a time lay before him. Long abandoned, this part of the city took on a dark and alone feel, as if the streets were crying for the rhythm of human feet upon them again, and it was there that the last straw had been broken.

At the end stood what could only be called a demon. Dark, sunken eyes gazed towards him from a crumpled body below. Emotions tore through Gregory, anger at the lead, and the bottle that held such emotion so well was now breaking. His clenched fists shook and his face was a constantly changing palette of the events within his mind.

"Demons, everywhere... I walk through the forest, demons. I walk along a path, Demons. Chaon is plunging into darkness, and at a time when the gods are most needed none arrive... The god of day has left us dark and alone, and all I see around me are demons." His shaking fists slowly untied his spear from his back, "Balefire one can expect to see demons in. But I come to Taras feeling relaxed. The children are all unsure of the god’s location, and as children turn to adults their thoughts turn to darkness... And why? Because the god of day's absence calls the night."

"Demon... Hell-spawn. You are nothing! You are the mere excretions of an old god! You are weak, and I won't allow you to turn the thoughts of our children!" His holy aura burned with a light unknown to even itself. Gregory's teeth were clenched in a death grip as twines of magic; seemingly coming from his lower back wrapped themselves around him, stray ones forming a large circular shield on his right arm, over the flesh-hand. His head became wrapped in a helmet with a "T" shaped opening from the bottom and over the eyes, a white crest down the middle. "I will kill you! I will kill you all! My god is vanished and thus, in his place, I become the god! You will die! For I am the god of day, today!" Blasphemy, as he would later come to realize, but at this moment rage fuelled his words.

The holy light faded to become smaller, making him visible. His armour was adorned in white and gold in an old design. He was in full-plate, a white cape flowing and covering his left shoulder and flowing down his back to the ground. His spear was held back behind him, glowing with an aura matching his own. Without another moment, he gripped the shield in front of himself and plunged ahead, using his wings to propel himself towards the demon, carrying him as fast as if he had been wearing no armour at all and had the wind at his back. Spear was held to the upper right "corner" of his circular shield and holy death blazed in his eyes.

(( OOC: Not the longest post persay, but I didn't want to get too caught up in descriptions of the sorts. I'll do that next post. ;) Oh! And don't expect my character to say anything, he's mute. =) ))

The silence was quickly broken by the angel’s loaded words, but to his dismay they would simply fall on deaf ears. No one gave a damn what he thought or even said, especially him. Out of all the people in the world those of the good aligned seemed to annoy him the most. Troublesome and petty with their talks of righteousness and false claims of being the grand redeemer against all evil; it all almost made him sick to his stomach. Now, whether the man could stand his ground and fight was another story entirely and something that interested him. He wanted this man to feed his hunger, to serve as another worthy sacrifice to the Goddess of Darkness.

Then it happened, but the only problem is that it had been expected. Foolishness seemed to be this man’s prerogative, which made a grin cross his visage. There would be no winning this fight if this man would continue to attack recklessly like he had so richly done. Instead….He would die… Blood lust ridden thoughts cluttered his mind, as his body rocked forward. Breaking out in a dead run towards the man, his demonic strength carrying him all the way. Just at the last second he would drop off to the right and low. Moving his left hand instinctively up to the shaft of the spear in hopes to grab it, meanwhile his right hand brought its palm driving in towards the mid-drift of the angelic being. If he could just grab the spear then perhaps he could either disarm the man or even pull him into the blow from his hand. Either or would work just fine with him, but if that wasn’t the case then at least he could at least land a single hit.

((OOC: Mute! >:O. Egad! I have never role-played with a mute before! >.< and w00t for demons grabbing at spear with holy blessing! Burned flesh galore! X_x Also, not to worry about length, as I’m sure you know, fighting topics tend to be short and to the point, as you’re trading blow-for-blow with another player.))

Gregory watched as the man went for the spear, and he did in no way even think about attempting to stop the man. Should he be disarmed he had other means of combat, and he always had a few back up cards. Out of habit in combat, the words to the summoning spell burned in his mind, but were quickly snuffed out. He had to learn to fight his own battles before always calling on the aid of his celestial friend, besides; he now had another back up.

As the man's hand went for the spear, Gregory reacted by throwing out his left arm, sending the butt of the fist forward with the aid momentum, and hopefully into the demon. In doing so he pulled the shield to his side to aid in power for his hit, oblivious to the left jab. The punch hit him in the stomach, causing him to awkwardly twist off and side across the pavement to the right. His spear, on the other hand had come in contact with something, be it a hand or face, and had been knocked from his grip. He cursed himself for being careless.

"Landed one... Too bad for you that it was not a killing blow. You had best hope your second hit knocks me out or kills me, because I will make it your last." he readied himself again, right leg bent forward and left leg taking a power stance to his left side. The magic that wove his shield began to dissipate leaving him standing fully armoured with no weapon or shield. Hands clenched into fists, he raised the up to his jaw line. He wasn't accustomed to fist-fighting, but he was much more attuned to throws and grips, as training with spear and other pole-arm weapons involved weapon less close-range fighting, just in case the enemy moved in before he could be fought off.

(( OOC: For some reason I sense sarcasm. =P Anyway, if you're wondering what made Blood change his tune and begin to take things slow. Well, it's because of the hits he took...I'll explain it in the next post, lol. It'll be too hard to explain otherwise... ))

A sudden jolt of pain shot through his arm as his hand collided with a solid contact into the mid-drift of the man, but what would follow would catch him off guard. Just at the same time he felt the man’s hand strike him, only to knock him slightly off kilter, but altogether nothing to worry about. But what would follow next was the man’s spear as it knocked harshly into his hand and then against the side of his face where it would leave a deep burning sensation. On top of that the volley of strikes finally seemed to knock him from his already unstable balance and to his hands and knees. It had been a first in a while that someone had actually taken him down a peg, which made him rethink his entire situation, but it wouldn’t mean that he would simply give up and roll over.

Lifting a hand to his face, he would proceed in tracing his features until they fell upon the spot that plagued him. Keeping his hand there for a moment, he slowly rose to his feet, keeping his eyes locked on this man Faust all the while. Something told him to not take this man lightly, but he failed to listen to the warnings that desperately begged him to heed. Even still he would refuse to listen to them, simply brushing off the man’s strikes as simple dumb luck.

Dropping his arm back to his side, the prominent grin would return to his face. He certainly was a feisty one and he did talk an awful lot. But regardless, he was still fun to play around with; even if he was diluted by all the light nonsense that he had been spewing from his mouth. If only he knew the true horrors of being an outcast, a being lost from everything around him. Then perhaps he would have changed his tune long ago, but there was no hoping to change anyone’s mind and the same went for him.

Peeling his gaze from Faust and down to the spear on the ground, he proceeded towards it but made no motions to pick it up or even touch it. He knew of its effects, and by no means was he going to chance burning himself again. Yet he wasn’t satisfied by simply fighting this man in his unarmed state. He wanted to fight his opponent when he was truly at his strongest and he would take nothing less. Most made the misconception that he didn’t possess the ability to do any harm without a weapon, but in his view…He was much more dangerous than he had been with a weapon and that’s what brought most to their early downfall against him.

Placing the toe of his boot just beneath the shaft of the spear just bellow the spear’s tip, he would then proceed to bring his foot sharply forward and up. As the spear lifted forth from his boot and into the air it held itself in perfect symmetry as it moved through the air at a parallel base with the ground. Hoping the man would catch it and take the hint he was trying to give him, he prepared himself once again. With a simple nod, he issued the man to try another attempt at him.

((OOC: I totally caught on to your attempting to disarm me, then when succeeding giving back the weapon like, half-way through the first paragraph. >.< Interesting move, hope it has a strategy. XD))

Gregory watched the demon rise, his head turning and following the thing as it moved closer towards his spear. He smiled bitterly, knowing that if the demon was to try and use the weapon it would still burn his flesh. Gregory could already tell he had landed one hit with his spear, as he saw the burns on the man's face, but as of right now he was unsure whether the demon even remembered what caused those burns. To his surprise, and dismay, he watched the man proceed to smoothly kick the spear forward, perpendicular to the ground and in quite a nice arc towards Gregory.

He smiled as he relaxed his stance and his left arm reached out to grasp the thick, wooden shaft. His obsidian digits closed around it and the warmth of the holy blessing on his dark metal returned him to thoughts of life under the thick layer of metal. His right hand reached over to grab lower on the spear shaft, and he proceeded to crouch down lower to the ground than he had been with his weapon less stance his spear pointed directly at the demon.

"Go through all the trouble to disarm me, and then give me back my weapon. Honourable, but quite foolish as you have undone what you worked to cause," One quick step forward with his right leg, his left leg following suit, "I suppose I should expect a demon to tear down what even he creates." His armour clinked as he yet again propelled himself forward another step. "Perhaps I should have dealt with you right away, rather than toy with you." One last lunging step and he was within 4 meters of his foe. His crooked smile played out the confidence in his mind as he went over his next attack.

His smile converted to a snarl as his legs propelled him forward, his wings remaining folded at his back. In close-range ground combat they had already proven themselves clumsy, and as of now he needed finesse. He performed a simple jab, but in an act that would hopefully surprise he shifted his body to his right and entered a spin which would attack his enemy's left-side immediately after the jab. Demons could be fast, he knew, and these attacks were only a warm-up for the shame that the demon would soon feel at the hands of this half-angel, so if he dodged, it was no matter.