Post by Zeke on Jul 31, 2007 12:58:43 GMT -5
The sound of boots echoed around the room as he walked. The boots in question reached up just below his knees, and were of an ornate and comfortable design- they supported the leg nicely, had good grip and fitted well. The toughened leather formed spines down the outer length, curving away from the main body of the boot in an arc, not quite meeting again higher up. On the front, the leather had a dragon embossed upon it, with a minute black opal to represent its eye.
Slipped neatly into the boots were tight black leather trousers, with dragons again embossed on the side, frozen in perpetual flight. Muscles stood out in high relief, made all the clearer by the tightness of the leather. Strapped onto his plain belt were two scabbards, one slightly shorter than the other. The elaborate hilts, made of ebony with ivory inlays, were worn and well used.
A gauntleted hand rested on one of the swords, whilst the other remained by his side. The cool obsidian that formed the body of the glove was faceted, and seemed to have smoke wafting from its surface, forming spiralling plumes of darkness which rose in the still air.
His torso was adorned in bands of leather and obsidian, winding around him to form a semi-rigid suit of armour that covered his chest and upper arms. His lower arms remained exposed, and they looked like a grim parody of life- the skin was light grey, with darker grey where blood vessels should be.
Long dark hair streamed behind Bael as he walked, the grey of his face made all the more unsettling by his eyes, which were like shadowed pools. His lips were the same colour as his face, and his eyebrows were heavy. Then, as he approached the figure ahead, his mouth broke into an unsettling grin.
“Why, I wasn’t expecting to see you here Darius. What a coincidence.”
His voice was oily and smooth, and Darius span, face growing pale as he saw who spoke. Scrambling backwards, the priest vaulted over the altar, disappearing from the spectres sight. Feet still movingly slowly across the cold stone floor of the church, he drew his swords in one swift movement as he reached the altar, seeing the cardinal shivering behind it, eyes closed and mouth moving quickly in prayer.
“You tricked me, Darius. Why would that be?”
The priest’s voice shook as he spoke, licking his lips whilst he cowered.
“Tr-tricked you? Why would I d-do that?”
Bael’s face contorted as he snarled, sword flicking out to touch the holy mans neck. The obsidian blade glinted in the light that streamed in through the stained glass windows, soulless and unforgiving. When he spoke, his voice was a chilled whisper.
“Don’t act as though you don’t know what I’m talking about. You tricked me, and I want it back. Give me back my soul, Darius.”
The cardinals eyes flicked from to a point behind him, and suddenly Baelinicus realised he had walked straight into a trap. Driving his blade through the ex-superhero’s neck, he span round to see the Righteous Warriors standing in a semi-circle, facing towards him.
“Halt, Shadow Phoenix! We know all to well of your foul and nefarious schemes, and we’ve come to end it once and for all.”
Bael grinned, sheathing his swords and walking towards them. They had no notion of what his ‘nefarious schemes’ were, and he had no intention of letting them find out. As he walked, the spiralling plumes of darkness coming from his gauntlet grew more pronounced, a shape forming from the dark energy gathering around his fist and spreading up his arm like a virus.
“I said halt!”
A tint of panic edged his voice now, and it gave Bael no end of satisfaction as the smoke collected around his shoulders. With a shout they broke ranks and began to run forwards, but it was too late. Black wings erupted from his shoulders, and he tore upwards, shattering the roof of the cathedral is he soared into the daylight above.
The location of his soul was still lost, but he’d disposed of his immediate source of trouble. The black smoke formed around him, creating plate armour which swirled around him, and he allowed himself a moment of satisfaction as he soared away from the cathedral, sirens ringing in his ears.
Slipped neatly into the boots were tight black leather trousers, with dragons again embossed on the side, frozen in perpetual flight. Muscles stood out in high relief, made all the clearer by the tightness of the leather. Strapped onto his plain belt were two scabbards, one slightly shorter than the other. The elaborate hilts, made of ebony with ivory inlays, were worn and well used.
A gauntleted hand rested on one of the swords, whilst the other remained by his side. The cool obsidian that formed the body of the glove was faceted, and seemed to have smoke wafting from its surface, forming spiralling plumes of darkness which rose in the still air.
His torso was adorned in bands of leather and obsidian, winding around him to form a semi-rigid suit of armour that covered his chest and upper arms. His lower arms remained exposed, and they looked like a grim parody of life- the skin was light grey, with darker grey where blood vessels should be.
Long dark hair streamed behind Bael as he walked, the grey of his face made all the more unsettling by his eyes, which were like shadowed pools. His lips were the same colour as his face, and his eyebrows were heavy. Then, as he approached the figure ahead, his mouth broke into an unsettling grin.
“Why, I wasn’t expecting to see you here Darius. What a coincidence.”
His voice was oily and smooth, and Darius span, face growing pale as he saw who spoke. Scrambling backwards, the priest vaulted over the altar, disappearing from the spectres sight. Feet still movingly slowly across the cold stone floor of the church, he drew his swords in one swift movement as he reached the altar, seeing the cardinal shivering behind it, eyes closed and mouth moving quickly in prayer.
“You tricked me, Darius. Why would that be?”
The priest’s voice shook as he spoke, licking his lips whilst he cowered.
“Tr-tricked you? Why would I d-do that?”
Bael’s face contorted as he snarled, sword flicking out to touch the holy mans neck. The obsidian blade glinted in the light that streamed in through the stained glass windows, soulless and unforgiving. When he spoke, his voice was a chilled whisper.
“Don’t act as though you don’t know what I’m talking about. You tricked me, and I want it back. Give me back my soul, Darius.”
The cardinals eyes flicked from to a point behind him, and suddenly Baelinicus realised he had walked straight into a trap. Driving his blade through the ex-superhero’s neck, he span round to see the Righteous Warriors standing in a semi-circle, facing towards him.
“Halt, Shadow Phoenix! We know all to well of your foul and nefarious schemes, and we’ve come to end it once and for all.”
Bael grinned, sheathing his swords and walking towards them. They had no notion of what his ‘nefarious schemes’ were, and he had no intention of letting them find out. As he walked, the spiralling plumes of darkness coming from his gauntlet grew more pronounced, a shape forming from the dark energy gathering around his fist and spreading up his arm like a virus.
“I said halt!”
A tint of panic edged his voice now, and it gave Bael no end of satisfaction as the smoke collected around his shoulders. With a shout they broke ranks and began to run forwards, but it was too late. Black wings erupted from his shoulders, and he tore upwards, shattering the roof of the cathedral is he soared into the daylight above.
The location of his soul was still lost, but he’d disposed of his immediate source of trouble. The black smoke formed around him, creating plate armour which swirled around him, and he allowed himself a moment of satisfaction as he soared away from the cathedral, sirens ringing in his ears.
