K I N A B A L U S U M M I T. // June 6. // A n d s o i t b e g i n s.
There was a universal belief in the rituals of combat: never come between the predator and her prey.
The nether creatures amassed within the clearing wailed in a piercing crescendo, objective, protesting in fury, and crying out from the loss of their quarry being snatched away from their quivering grasp. The apparitions endeavored to crawl after their target, continuing to pool and descend from the infernal maw warped and jagged with hideous fire, crooked rock hardened and warped into the impression of jowls bedecked into the thousands with blackened teeth. The projection of hellfire and death roared, propelling the inky tendrils of despair to increase, swelling in size and intent, spiraling in a whorl of wretched shadows to deliver the promise of the void. Magdalena's warped and distorted appearance snapped and flinched, the cords of her empathetic shadow disrupted and slinking in retreat, pieces still attached to at least one of the Guardians, where as the fleeing threads came to and illustrated the intent laden with their hearts.
She tasted fear, terror, the tangible notions peppering her molten mouth with harsh clarity. The taste of hopelessness, frustration, inability and failure arising to further encourage the pallet of her tongue bathed in the riches of their emotions; a glutton sated temporarily. She inhaled sharply, the igneous rock broken over her eyes and crown, spiraling and smoking with hidden flame betrayed nothing of her features, the one burdened with agony beneath all the raging spirits constantly spiraling in a whirlwind of utter chaos. Her body buckled, the mortal soul still existing within crippled under the sheer weight of her own power, her own life, her heart was a burning organ within the depths of her horrific appearance. The furnace that was her innards were blackened and tainted with ash, soot billowed forth, the air tainted with a smog both thick and ominous, descending rapidly with the herald of both lightning and thunder amplifying the current feud.
"Why do you deny her wish. She has tempted her Fate, she must arise to answer her thrown gauntlet." The distorted voice intoned, demanding, calling to the desires of the sythe-wielder for just a moment.
Any answer she would have received was disrupted by the impending spears of light, the spears glimmering in holy retribution that sired the shadows to cry out, rebelling, denial, all sorts of severity cresting high as Magdalena awaited the spears to impale; there were so many. She laughed, arms thrust out wide, the manic eruption of her amusement warped and deepened, becoming the vibrating chortle of a hideous monster both mocking and inviting.
"Is what you wish too, boy? To tempt your own Fate?" The core of her spirits began to shift, sliding into the better acquired impression of hounds, dogs of fiendish siring that howled and screeched, mouths layered over one another, bulbous eyes manically glaring at the Guardians before they began to bay for blood and penance. Magdalena watched as those spears of light fell, impaling some of her shadows, laying waste to the hounds, there was fire laden in those spears, she could feel the heat as some of her shadows cried, human sounds that inflicted her being and rang out in the clearing. As if living mortals suffered these righteous wounds, spurred from the mouths of ruby cores. The creature that was the veteran Guardian and then not shot out her palm, flinging her fingers forward that poised and arched, the bends of her gestures mimicking claws akin to a beast as the shadows remaining formed perfectly in imitation. There were no eyes to bid or examine, nothing that provided perspective to what she intended, but the shadows continued to conform, her deepest touches of despair intent on their prey and the hideous face of a monstrous creature arose, spiraling down into a neck with fissures of boiling magma that descended, bubbling and dropping in thick spheres of demonic lava.
"Allow me to free you from the shackles of your Destiny! For you will never reach the mines now!" She cried, her body descending, falling, dropping to the earth where her body began to convulse, the trails and tears of magma multiplying, swelling and building, becoming a force that was literally spent from her very soul as wails split the air, ringing outward and beyond, touching the hearts of the Damned as something not of the world was preparing to unleash.
And beneath it all, as waves of lava began to spill forth, was the broken shell of a woman begging to be released from her own Fate; the one they kept her alive, kept her form dying and had stolen all that was good and wonderful in her heart till naught remained but stone and ash.
The nether creatures amassed within the clearing wailed in a piercing crescendo, objective, protesting in fury, and crying out from the loss of their quarry being snatched away from their quivering grasp. The apparitions endeavored to crawl after their target, continuing to pool and descend from the infernal maw warped and jagged with hideous fire, crooked rock hardened and warped into the impression of jowls bedecked into the thousands with blackened teeth. The projection of hellfire and death roared, propelling the inky tendrils of despair to increase, swelling in size and intent, spiraling in a whorl of wretched shadows to deliver the promise of the void. Magdalena's warped and distorted appearance snapped and flinched, the cords of her empathetic shadow disrupted and slinking in retreat, pieces still attached to at least one of the Guardians, where as the fleeing threads came to and illustrated the intent laden with their hearts.
She tasted fear, terror, the tangible notions peppering her molten mouth with harsh clarity. The taste of hopelessness, frustration, inability and failure arising to further encourage the pallet of her tongue bathed in the riches of their emotions; a glutton sated temporarily. She inhaled sharply, the igneous rock broken over her eyes and crown, spiraling and smoking with hidden flame betrayed nothing of her features, the one burdened with agony beneath all the raging spirits constantly spiraling in a whirlwind of utter chaos. Her body buckled, the mortal soul still existing within crippled under the sheer weight of her own power, her own life, her heart was a burning organ within the depths of her horrific appearance. The furnace that was her innards were blackened and tainted with ash, soot billowed forth, the air tainted with a smog both thick and ominous, descending rapidly with the herald of both lightning and thunder amplifying the current feud.
"Why do you deny her wish. She has tempted her Fate, she must arise to answer her thrown gauntlet." The distorted voice intoned, demanding, calling to the desires of the sythe-wielder for just a moment.
Any answer she would have received was disrupted by the impending spears of light, the spears glimmering in holy retribution that sired the shadows to cry out, rebelling, denial, all sorts of severity cresting high as Magdalena awaited the spears to impale; there were so many. She laughed, arms thrust out wide, the manic eruption of her amusement warped and deepened, becoming the vibrating chortle of a hideous monster both mocking and inviting.
"Is what you wish too, boy? To tempt your own Fate?" The core of her spirits began to shift, sliding into the better acquired impression of hounds, dogs of fiendish siring that howled and screeched, mouths layered over one another, bulbous eyes manically glaring at the Guardians before they began to bay for blood and penance. Magdalena watched as those spears of light fell, impaling some of her shadows, laying waste to the hounds, there was fire laden in those spears, she could feel the heat as some of her shadows cried, human sounds that inflicted her being and rang out in the clearing. As if living mortals suffered these righteous wounds, spurred from the mouths of ruby cores. The creature that was the veteran Guardian and then not shot out her palm, flinging her fingers forward that poised and arched, the bends of her gestures mimicking claws akin to a beast as the shadows remaining formed perfectly in imitation. There were no eyes to bid or examine, nothing that provided perspective to what she intended, but the shadows continued to conform, her deepest touches of despair intent on their prey and the hideous face of a monstrous creature arose, spiraling down into a neck with fissures of boiling magma that descended, bubbling and dropping in thick spheres of demonic lava.
"Allow me to free you from the shackles of your Destiny! For you will never reach the mines now!" She cried, her body descending, falling, dropping to the earth where her body began to convulse, the trails and tears of magma multiplying, swelling and building, becoming a force that was literally spent from her very soul as wails split the air, ringing outward and beyond, touching the hearts of the Damned as something not of the world was preparing to unleash.
And beneath it all, as waves of lava began to spill forth, was the broken shell of a woman begging to be released from her own Fate; the one they kept her alive, kept her form dying and had stolen all that was good and wonderful in her heart till naught remained but stone and ash.
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