lif — Roleplayer Guild

*To Serve and Protect*

By @Cyclone, @Frettzo, @Lugubrious, and @poog the pig

Storm's King; The First Gale; The Embodiment of Change
Level 3 God of Change (Air)
10 Might 2 Free Points
&
Vizier Ventus, Majordomo to Zephyrion
Level 3 Hero
28 Khookies
&

Lifprasil, Vesamera, the First-Born.
Level 1 Demi-God
i forgot how much might i have

Lifprasil and Zephyrion stand around in the desert
Lifprasil changes the minds of the soon-to-be High Lifprasilians
Zephyrion flies them up to his citadel
VENTUS IS FUCKING PISSED ABOUT ALLURE BEATING HIM UP
he cries to Zeph
Lifprasil finds this out and gets a raging hard on excited about the prospect of fighting Allure and leaves to F I G H T
Turns out Lif is shit at flying
He crashes into the desert
Allure notices
They fight, Lifprasil only wins because he's got more toys than Allure. Allure joins Lifprasil and they go get lemonade.

After that deplorable spectacle was over and his lands restored to that pristine state it had been in, Zephyrion watched as the other gods made their departures one by one. They took their leave far too slowly for his burning nerves.

The First Gale looked down to his new charge and contemplated the situation; already Lifprisil was making demands of him by his simple insistence on bringing those creatures as his guard. He had neither offered nor agreed to taking letting those things skulk in his halls, but for what it was worth he felt wary of aggression. That brief, albeit tense, confrontation had left him feeling surprising exhausted by the end despite a perceived triumph. He was in no mood for a second argument, this time with the demigod. The deal was already done; if the Insidie made a nuisance of themselves in the Celestial Citadel then their host would have them flung from the palace's heights without a second thought.

"Now," Zephyrion began to speak. As he had calmed so too had the storm that raged all around, yet for the more serene calm appearance of the god his voice only boomed louder and with more force behind it. "...let this be your first lesson, Lifprisil: be ever vigilant against rendering offense towards another being, for from that offense might spring anger and from this anger might a terrible retaliation might come. I hold no enmity for your innocuous request that I allow you to bring this guard into my home, but do not presume to issue orders upon me. You cannot afford the risk of exerting authority over one more mighty than yourself. Remember this. Remember too what I have already told you about the hierarchy and illusions of equality."

Zephyrion paused for a long time, allowing the gravity of his words the chance to crush Lifprisil and leave a lasting imprint upon his behavior. The Master of Change would not enjoy repeating himself again.

Lifprasil had been silent throughout the ordeal, gripping the estranged euclidian handle of his father's sword. It whispered to him, telling him things that would eventually be filtered by the crown that rests upon his head. His armor, however, just observed Zeph in silence, as silent as armor can be.

Internally, they were all trite gusts of air from a god of such, but he took them, carefully monitoring each expression from his new mentor. Finally, he merely holds up his hand, and motions to the creatures surrounding them. "I will take two-thousand with me, they will acclimate to the climate, and become stronger, calmer - they will become suitable guests in your domain."

As he said this, a simple hand swipe had triggered his emotional control just before the High Lifprasilians would scatter and panic. Each one felt his presence imprint upon them, and thousands of slanted eyes peered from the shifting sands of Galbar, littering the surrounding hellscape, and granting control unto them. All these figments of Lifprasil's enhanced imaginative cortex had quarreled in silence with the primitive minds of the soon-to-be High Lifprasilians, reimbursing their structure to become calm, incompulsive. 

When this work was finished, Zephyrion could just barely hear two-thousand creatures from the depths of Lifprasil's soul whisper:

"We have spoken..."

'So this one wields some sort of power over the mind. Not unlike his insufferable mother,' Zephyrion mused to himself when he heard the strange voice and sensed the grip that Lifprasil held over those little creatures that scurried about. The power was admirable for a being of his age, but in the end it was nothing. Zephyrion, even Ventus, could control the lesser elementals with absolute power. This ability of Lifprasil's was only a shadow of that; changing one's emotions was not enough to gain true control.

What gave Zephyrion pause was the demigod's calm, insistent declaration that he would bring those creatures. This one was assertive; his matter-of-fact tone was tolerable for now, but it might warrant correction in the future. Everything about Lifprisil still reeked of those absurd rejections of the natural hierarchy and of his perceived 'equality'. Time could perhaps see such folly purged, but if it grew into outright insubordination there would have to be harsher discipline than mere talk.

"Now we may retire from this lowly place," the Master of Change at last proclaimed. He clapped his hands and there was thunder. The harsh clap echoed across the rolling sand dunes of the desert and even the dusky plains beyond, and countless djinn harkened to their god at his call. Each one effortlessly lifted one of the Insidie that were to be Lifprisil's guard into the sky and then began the long ascent to the Celestial Citadel. Zephyrion personally held the demigod Lifprisil in his grip as they ventured upwards; it would not do for his new prize to fall and be broken.

Even flying as swift and sure as the wind itself, it was a long climb. The Celestial Citadel grazed the stratosphere and towered so high that it was but a shining speck in the sky to those below. Were it not for the billowing forms of the elementals that carried them, the Insidie's frail, mortal frames would have failed and died with blood blue from oxygen deprivation. The divine halls of the Celestial Citadel had thicker air would offer some sanctum from these inhospital reaches in the sky above the highest of clouds, but even still the radiation of the harsh sun was a ceaseless and invisible foe.

Lifprisil would find himself deposited by Zephyrion atop a high terrace at the base of several towers at one end and nothingness on the other; serving as more a landing than anything else, the terrace lacked even a railing to guard one from the bleak drop off that precipice on the fortress's very edge. The raging winds might have normally cast Lifprisil's arriving guard off the side with ease, but at these altitudes the thin air could only ever exert the weakest of forces. It would be when the citadel descended lower to the ground that one would have cause to be wary in such places.

"Here we are on the lower tier. This level of my home I have devoted to Ilunabar, Goddess of Beauty and my esteemed guest, as well as any other odd visitors. But you and yours are residents, not simply guests. So be at home: I will allow you free range of both the lower and middle levels, and grant to your guard three spires as their own quarters."

Storm King's thought for a moment. Showcasing every hall, tower, and chamber of those two levels would be a monumental and lengthy task, but time meant nothing to him. He would not deny himself the pleasure of personally guiding the new residents throughout his alcazar; this palace was his and he had a right to be proud! So it was that he spent countless hours offering them an exhaustive tour through the labyrinth of alabaster halls. Hours might have turned into days or even weeks had he shown the vastly larger upper levels that were his own personal quarter, though with no shortage of zeal he guarded the pirvacy of his own rooms.

Lifprasil just follows with a placid expression, playing along to Zephyrion's lead in opaque silence. "Fascinating." he states, a smile actually cresting his lips. "This building is truly a marvel. How did it come to fruition, patron?" Lifprasil questions.

In passing Zephyrion mentioned that its construction had been aided by Teknall's hand, but of course more than fair credit was also given to himself; it was his power that enchanted the very walls and kept the palace as a jewel in the sky. The topic was then quickly shifted back to amicable talk of Zephyrion's opinions on his various 'siblings', many sentiments of which Lifprasil would do well to never repeat.

The soon-to-be high Lifprasilians had been following Lifprasil throughout the tour, enamored by the young Demi-God's presence as a truly charismatic leader. Each one gazes upon the winding hallways of the wind god, naturally gravitating around him; as if they're already geared towards protecting the individual they're named after; until suddenly, they part, and Lifprasil speaks over Zephyrion's praddling.

"Enough of this. Shall we begin?"

A wild rush of wind suddenly raced through the drafty halls, the characteristic whirl of a windjinn echoing closer. The air elementals frequented their maker's stronghold on occasion, though usually they kept out of the way. In sharp contrast, this one seemed to be headed right towards them. Moments later an amorphous cloud of smoke manifested itself before collapsing inward and weaving itself into the lifelike shape of a djinn. "Your Majesty," the flustered arrival exclaimed, "your humble servant has returned! I was assaulted by a most bizarre, horrid being, one that dared assault the holy Slough and myself! The strange creature capable of speech and bearing the likeness of-"

One perturbed glance from Zephyrion interrupted the djinni lord's speech. "...but before any of this, I had of course completed the tasks set before me! Life has diffused throughout your dominion, and Slough was returned to the coast so safely as I was capable-"

A mere glance once again gave the elemental pause, though this time it was that of Lifprasil's eyes rather than the god's. Seemingly noticing the demigod and his mortal companions only now, a crass and bewildered look took force on his visage. "Your Majesty, m'lord, what are those things?" he could not refrain from shouting. "They look somewhat akin to that vile creature that assailed me, and, and, and, this is no place for mortals!" he managed to stammer.

Lifprasil narrowed his eyes to this, and ebbed his head to the side, mildly perturbed by the Windjinn - but more perturbed by the idea of this 'vile creature'. 

"What about my home is unsuitable for these new guests? In any case, it seems like an introduction must take place! My dear friend, I would have you acquainted with the demigod Lifprasil, my new charge, and his household guard. They will be residing with me for the forseeable future.

And Lifprasil, I introduce to you my right hand and Vizier, the esteemed Ventus! As Majordomo of my House, his word is to carry nearly so much weight as even my own!"

In unreadable silence, Lifprasil just nodded, and extended a hand to shake Ventus' own, his formalities empty, as if he were distracted. "Hello Ventus." the young Demi-God greets. Already, just being in the presence of the androgynous creature, Ventus could feel a pull on his emotional tempo - as if Lifprasil was threatening to swallow him; obstruct his thoughts with the ambient power of his Domain even when thinking about the endangerment.

The pull that Lifprasil exerted on the Vizier's thoughts would find little resistance, the djinni's mind evidently swayed far more easily than one might expect. But then there was an incredibly strong opposite pull, and his emotions fleeted to something else. Elementals were flighty and hard to manipulate for long in such ways, though in Ventus' case it mattered little. Unlike even his god and master, Ventus saw the world through a lens of logic moreso than some haze of emotion.

With a graceful smile and light bow as he hovered in the air, he shook Lifprasil's hand.

"You're much resilient than I credited you to be." Lifprasil says with a slight smile, clasping Ventus' single hand in his own.

The formality now having cause to cease, the smile melted off the djinni's face like wax beneath a fire. In the same respect, Lifprasil's own smile faded away, replaced with placidity.

The seriousness of just before now chiseled back into his face, he addressed Zephyrion once more, "My esteemed lord, you surely do not think to keep these...these...people in the premises for long? How long has it already been? Have you offered them food, water, bedding? How will we-"

Zephyrion's incessant, nearly monotone din was suddenly broken by a sound that could only be taken as some sort of indignant snort. "And that is where you may come in, my dearest friend! I do not care for the organization of such logistics and other trifling things; as my Majordomo, I expect such issues to be dealt with expediently by your divine and capable hands! Now...I suggest that you have them make a garden. Or...perhaps tell my stormlords to conjure a rain of fish?"

Quickly tired of his company and of making jabs at his flustered servant, Zephyrion found a sly way to wriggle away from his new 'guests' for the first time that he had come. He found solace within the vacuous space of his private quarters, bemused at the thought of what Ventus might be doing at that very moment. Lifprasil's training would begin soon, but even the Eternal Sky needed the occasional time of sweet solitude and rest.

In wholly neutral silence, Lifprasil turned to gaze into Ventus, his eyes had become wide, darting from place to place as he monitored his surroundings. "So, winded conosseiur, I would request that we erect hanging gardens along the walls of the Celestial Citadel, sleeping quarters as well, and that we isolate recreational room to keep my soldiers occupied and trained. This should be plausible, is it not?" he asked, having not taken a breath throughout his requested changes. He stopped, suddenly, and took pause from his incessant scheming. 

Throughout the conversation he had managed to withold with Ventus, Lifprasil restricted the thoughts of such an adversary as Allure to the back of his mind. What a novel idea. So novel that, he felt the compulsion to act upon his smoldeirng desire to fight.

"Ventus, Apprentice to my Master... Tell me where this person that assaulted you was." Lifprasil demanded, and shifted his eyes to the armor protecting his forearm.

"I have an opportune idea..." he muttered, and his unfeeling expression disappeared to give way to an almost determined grimace. "Where was this creature again?" Lifprasil questioned, his expression attempting to change from its incessant shell of nothingness as he spoke.

Ventus scoffed indignantly at being referred to as Zephyrion's mere apprentice; he was the Majordomo! His position was one of the utmost importance, and the Master had said so himself! 'Oh, who am I fooling?'  was the sulky thought that followed in the djinni lord's mind.

"He assailed me at the mouth of Galbar's mightiest river, the Mahd, and there inflicted his grievous wound. Never one to flee, this humble servant pressed on. With all my fury, I then cast him into the surf and blew him to sea, and taking him for dead I at last made my retreat in good conscience and without a touch of cowardice upon my soul."

Without a single words goodbye, Lifprasil jumped backwards, shakily testing out his flight before he would depart. Within one moment, Lifprasil disappeared from the hall with a crash. All the Lifprasilians recoiled, afraid of their leader's sudden movement - save for one, of whom watched him disappear. 

"What is this foolishness? Did you not hear my words? I tell you, I repelled that enemy and now he is in all likelihood dead! Gah, Your Majesty, will you not stop him?" the Vizier shouted after the departing demigod, but it was already too late. Lifprasil had ventured off on his foolish quest without a moment's hesitation.

"Be at ease, Ventus," the djinni's Master offered as both consolation and a rejection to the idea of trying to stop Lifprasil. "If you truly triumphed and felled this foe, then we shall laugh at the little one's foolishness as he mills around like a lost animal. If, on the other hand, this enemy still breathes, then I am interested to see how Lifprasil will fare in a true test of his mettle."

"You will at least intervene if the situation becomes dire?" the Majordomo demanded.

"Perhaps," the Skylord said as he drifted to a balcony, having already begun watching the drama below.

Outside of Zephyrion's Celestial Citadel, Lifprasil escaped from the innards of his castle, like some divine bird he soared through the atmosphere, he skimmed the boundary that would mark his demise before he descended with a crash similar to what was heard in Zephyrion's domain. This one was much, much louder, however, heard for miles around, it would sound like thunder to most, but only some could comprehend the barrier that had just been broken.

With a singular scream abided by physics accompanying him, Lifprasil descended further, and further towards the planet's surface, untouched by wind he continued to his destination; and within minutes he was upon it. He hastily pendulated his body in an attempt to stop his descent - but this was fruitless. 

In an instant, a sand dune that had held itself for centuries on the surface of Galbar had been obliterated by kinetic energy and a careless Demi-God. The recurring impact was heard throughout the desert around Lifprasil as he forced himself from his incredibly painful position underneath the product of his own enthusiasm; and strummed the sand of eons past from the chinks in his armor.

"What power..." he said to himself, then hurried upright. 

Lifprasil, with a shallow smile, took several steps forward to peruse the landscape with his eyes - and seek out this antagonist to Ventus, and the stag he was pursuing. 

Several miles away, on the coast of the Fractal Sea, that opponent meandered along.  In following this route he traced not only the path of Slough, but himself the day before.  His inadequacy burned him, but any lack of power or resolve he had scoured out back on the island.  He could scarcely even think of what happened there without his head swimming, and yet, he saw around him in increasing clarity the aftermath.  Colors appeared more distinct and shapes better defined; sound reached him more clearly and evoked a quicker recognition of both the what and where of its source; even the sea and sand could be more astutely detected on his tongue.  In short, his senses, particularly their precision, were improving.  For some time they felt more inebriating than liberating, but his brain seemed to be acclimatizing nicely.

He both heard and felt the shockwave when it arrived.  It reverberated through him, and Allure suspected that the next fool to throw himself in ignorant defense of life's horrific perpetuator had arrived.  He flexed his fingers and cautiously stood to his full height in the shade of the palm tree where he had been resting.  "What's done is done.  Now, more beauteous than ever, I will set right the corpse god, and any disgusting ignoramus that stands in my way will become a lovely red carpet on which I shall walk."  Allure began to run, his feet pounding the sand, and very soon crested a ridge.  Out in the distance, a lone figure stood, invisible to any mortal's sight but perfectly visible to his own.  Not pleased with what he saw, he resumed his sprint, homing in on Lifprasil's position.

Gradually, slowly, a multi-colored web strained itself across Lifprasil's vision, ebbing to the right most edge of his eye, like bulbous veins it streaked across his view of the world to warn him, indicative towards an oncoming attack. Letting out a grunt of alarm, Lifprasil turned to meet his assailant on his armored heels, one hand gripped to his sword, and one hand extended outwards as if to catch whatever onslaught would be thrown to him in his palm.

As it tightened around him the armor had a similar reaction to Lifprasil's, in a fashion similar to drawing breath, the armor inhaled, then exhaled before it expelled a roundular helmet from the base of its neck piece, that which equipped itself to Lifprasil's head wholly to protect him. The blade warped around his waist like a fine belt, however, only loosened in its sheathed position - eager to tear into Allure upon his approach, the only indication of its presence being not only its aura, but the gleam of the sun shimmering off the other worldly metal. 

"Face me!" Lifprasil exclaimed, anticipating an attack, as did the gifts upon him.

Allure, however, slid to a sandy halt several hundred feet away.  The automatic activation of his enemy's armor system did not go unnoticed, and from his current position the analysis of Lifprasil's weapon proved to be child's play.  Having learned from his experience fighting the last guardian of Slough, the man did not plan on either underestimating Lifprasil or withholding from him the full energy and cunning of beauty's hero.  "I think not.  What kind of sorcery is that metal shell?  I have seen steel crafted into admirable shapes, but this is altogether intriguing."  He crossed one arm across his stomach and rested his chin against a fist.

Lifprasil released the handle of his blade, but still exerted control over the weapon through his powers of manipulation. For Allure, he would recieve minutes of pause before Lifprasil would finally speak, having waited for the sand around to settle as he calmed his nerves from the anticipated attack.

Honed into the epicenter of the web that had metamorphosed to him, Lifprasil narrowed his shimmering eyes in minute focus upon Allure.

"This metal shell is a gift from the Goddess of Light, Niciel... It is, as mortals would call it, armor. Now I must ask you: What kind of sorcery is that weapon upon your hand?" Lifprasil questioned in kind, mouth and speech unwavering despite circumstance. 

A snicker greeted Lifprasil's explanation.  "Mortals wouldn't call it anything; the gods haven't seen fit to give us a smigeon of the gifts they shower on their little favorites.  No afterlife, most of the planet barren from what I can gather, no civilization, no technology, such as metalworking.  And so much horrid ugliness.  It's a true miracle a mind as cultured and refined as mine could exist from such a bare world.  As for me, I don't dabble in vile sorcery, and nor do I wield an instrument of metal."  He struck a condescending pose, looking at Lifprasil between the fingers of a hand that covered his face.  "How useless armor is.  If you've met the gods, surely you are aware of their ludicrous power?  Hiding in a suit of metal will not save you.  Besides, only what takes cues from what is natural can be truly beautiful.  Armor shrouds the face and body, and encumbers the body's movement."  Holding a hand out, palm up, Allure gestured toward him.  "You seem intent on barring my way.  Surely you are not ignorant to the gruesome spectacle whose very decay mars this world's potential for beauty.  Let me proceed in my mission and I need not share its fate with you."

Lifprasil frowned upon hearing Allure's snickering and ensuing explanation of his own, he talked big, and he talked long, Lifprasil did not mind, however, because this was a character all too similar to Zephyrion - albeit wearing a facade separate to his own. Directing his muddled vision to Allure's palm, that which pulsated stark colors of red, purple, and green against the shimmering sand dunes beyond; Lifprasil began to study the extremity, attempting to discern its purpose. "If it is not a weapon, then why do you carry it as such? Your hand." Lifprasil questioned lowly, taking steps forward, but not raising his hands to attack. "Although I have not met this Slough, I have felt her presence upon gazing into the Codex of Creation, and into the mind of my mother: Vulamera. By all means, no creature has more right to be called natural than one that existed since the dawn of time itself." the Demi-God returns, her voice becoming similar to that of a woman's as she began to speak as if she were Vulamera herself.

The demigod's inability to respond to the charges placed by Allure upon the gods tickled him immensely.  In reply to Lifprasil's inquiry, he lifted up his hand, the fingers dramatically separated.  "All mortals rely upon their hands.  They are our most important parts.  The heart may give life, and the mind may reach the stars, but the hands grasp the food with which life is sustained and leaf through the books through which the mind is fed.  They defend us, manipulate our surroundings, create, and cut down.  Only someone born without the need to fight for survival could be so stupid."  Lifprasil's changing voice made Allure wary.  Where voices changed, bodies changed as well; such was the amorphousness of the gods and their progeny.  Shapeshifting to him, and indeed to all beauty, was an act of defilement.  The capacity to produce gorgeousness beyond belief came with the capacity to produce equal and greater atrocity, making a shapeshifter an abomination before all else.  Allure's voice went cold and cutting as a razor's edge as he said, "Your definitions need work.  As does your attention span, since you have forgotten my request.  Will you let me pass?  Or will you submit yourself to my critique?"  Allure closed one eye as he turned his outstretched arm into a thumb-up, gazing across his fingertip like a painter at his waiting subject.

Allure's perception of the world became warped, a ripple throughout creation generated itself from the complexion and will layered upon Lifprasil's soul, the culmination of his very being suddenly spoke from its vessel; extending its fingers to the most present pretext of Allure's mind. What Allure sees as his brain is manipulated and changed to meet the ascertain emotional blueprint Lifprasil had chosen is a pair of slanted, sideways faceted purple eyes gazing towards him from the fixated head of Lifprasil; pressing through the metal, and into Allure's gaze. It drew closer until suddenly it was gone, and where fear should have been from the display, there's only anger. "We have spoken." whispers something from cellar in which only fearful thoughts dwell, retracting its hands back to Lifprasil as its work finished.

"I will submit myself to be your canvas, as you have already become mine." Lifprasil continued walking towards Allure upon his higher perch, relaxation and a contrived challenge both swimming within the bubbling river of his voice. "As for hands, I digress."

Thoroughly bored by the demigod's inaction, Allure turned away to walk around, only to pause as the magic of Lifprasil invaded his mind.  The marauding emotional energy rubbed against the fresh scars there, causing him to hold a hand to his head in a vain attempt to soothe the searing pain.  He did not quite understand the sensation overtaking him, but it did not take a genius to deduce their source as the indignant warlord opposite him.  Allure glared at him, balefully locking on to the volatile violet luminescence boiling within the pits of his eyes.  Hatred rushed through his veins and beat against his skull.  "I have changed my mind.  Behind that metal veneer is a detestible work of ugliness that cannot be allowed to live.  The least I can do is to defeat you with unmatched beauty and grace."

Allure hopped, spinning like a whirlwind with his fingers outstretched.  Even from hundreds of feet away, his discerning hands raked across Lifprasil's body multiple times in a single second.  Anticipating that the god-given armor of his noisome foe might protect him, Allure finished the cutting mixer with a transition to front flip, whipping both arms diagonally in an X pattern as he fell back to earth.

With a tremendous, seething clang, each strike caused Lifprasil to stagger slightly against the sand, until the last strike fell on his chest piece as Allure landed on the desert floor. Lifprasil's armor maintained its sheen throughout the attack, but every strike rended a deeper imprint upon the divine metal. In silence Lifprasil throttled the handle of the angered weapon, and with a bit of flare pulled it from his waist.

The ensuing storm of blades licked at the sand to his right, impartially obliterating the landscape and summoning a wall of smoke around Lifprasil. Within the confines of the vision hampering particles, Allure could see the many blades lash out, as if some many headed creature searching for food. Suddenly, Lifprasil brandished control over them again, and the outline of the many-tongued beast lurched backwards; trailing behind Lifprasil as he launched himself forward from his original position beyond the speed of sound. Its posthumous scream would deafen any regular mortal, but Lifprasil is unaffected by the breaking of conventional physics - save for his ability to steer himself anywhere.

Even in the grip of a marvellous anger, the sense of Allure did not desert him.  In fact, quite opposite to some brainless berserker, his umbrage did not ultimately weaken him, but focus him.  The sand and the smoke whipped around Lifprasil, but Allure's eyes only narrowed.  No mortal to date could see and understand as quickly and precisely as he.  Even with only three notches on his brain, he could observe individual particles of sand and visualize from faint outlines behind the smoke what lay hidden.  His observation did not go unrewarded.

From the cloud a blur cannoned toward him, just as he thought it might.  Talented ranged fighters would not, after all, throw up a smokescreen.  Allure blinked, and when he opened his eyes, the speed of his perception had quintupled.  To him, Lifprasil stood still in space, blade of chaos extended to strike him down.  Of course, the man could not force his body to move as fast as his senses, but planning an escape route was child's play.  This wretch, too, moves speedily.  But he is a fool to think he can surprise me.  The next instant, his perception normalized, and Lifprasil's attack sundered the earth.  Before the floating sand could even begin to clear, an invisible slash dispersed it, revealing Allure standing not too far away.  "Hahah!  Not so easy!  Underestimate a mortal, would you?  Learn your lesson!"  He arranged his fingers in an odd fashion and thrust his hand toward Lifprasil before extending the fingers outward.  To his foe, a sensation like the thrust of a great blade would assault him, before five slashes in all different directions followed.

Allure's magical thrusting attack pit into Lifprasil's stomach, and nearly pierced his armor. It produced a noticeable indentation in the fold between his rib shaped plate mail, and the luxurious blue in between glowing shades of yellow gave way to a sliver of uncovered divine steel. Lifprasil's sense came to when he was pivoted back to his original position - allowing him to see the angry marks in reality carving through the atmosphere around him; which allowed him to dodge two. 

The last three honed in on his retreating head, however, and sent him face first into the ground below. Lifprasil quickly recovered from this, and spiraled back into flight. Lifprasil raised his blade as he hones himself closer to Allure once again, but this time he waved his weapon like a whip, the blades tasting earth again, and making a surprising leap in the beauty-stricken hero's direction; thirsty for his blood.

If an attack at nigh-unstoppabe speed couldn't thwart Allure, anything less would surely fail just as badly.  Yet, the comparative weakness of Lifprasil's attack prevented Allure's protective instincts from overriding the curse of anger placed on him, so with a cry the hero sprang forward rather than back.  He did not care to consider his enemy's ability to fly after Lifprasil displayed his less-than-developed flying skills, but neither did he take complete leave of his cunning.  Allure traced with his finger a triangle around his foe, then another, until his arm seemed like a fluid streak tracing the triangle over and over again.  Around Lifprasil, the constant and cyclical disturbance of air began to form a crushing twister, battering him from all sides while spinning him around.  In such a squall, his wings would serve him as well as if they were paper.  "If you're going to die, hurry up and do it!"  Allure demanded.  His arm ceased its turbulent motion, and he held out an open hand.  "I don't have all day!"  Still in midair, he brought his fingers together in a crushing motion, and all at once five slashes collapsed the whirlwind to pulverize Lifprasil and shred what remained.

As the air pressure itself threatened to turn against him, Lifprasil had naught a second to think of a solution to Allure's new attack. With a solution in mind, Lifprasil almost curled in a ball in anticipation for his next move. Pressing his left arm to his breast, and his right arm over his left, the muscle throughout his body tensed to meet the oncoming tidal wave of force. With tremendous difficulty, Lifprasil managed to meet his sword head on in a mental battle of incessant manipulation, and tame its anger to protect him, if not for the minute moments ahead.

In resentful silence, the Chaos Blade in his hand calmed, and with a flick of his wrist and mental aptitude, each head of divine metal beast intercepted the discerning strikes, deflecting them and the squall with their own god-given power. The wind returned to normalcy as Lifprasil darted forward from the prospective death knell at the hands of Allure, of whom directs a forward jab to his aggressor. This motion summoned the many bladed tips in a hungry flurry of attacks. The innumerable edges comprising the maw of Lifprasil's blade spiraled from the handle to Allure in the shape of a steadily tightening cylinder tapering out from Lifprasil; that which threatened to bar the hero from escape, and mince him in the attempt.

A tunnel of death surrounded Allure.  He could see each flashing blade spiraling around him, and while under ideal conditions he could have slipped through unscathed, he couldn't change directions midair.  There lay, he knew as Lifprasil darted forward to jab him, only one way to escape.  Taking a cue from his foe, he tucked himself into a ball, the flats of his feet in the path of the incoming blow.  Lifprasil's fist made contact and Allure used it as a springboard to shoot straight back, attempting to ignore the nasty ache in his soles.  He flew free of the blade pipe, and span in midair to deliver a couple of slashes at his enemy as he fell away.

Allure landed a moment later, though his legs nearly gave out from the pain.  "Agh!  That punch must have fractured my poor feet.  They have healed, fortunately."  He cast a scathing look upward, attempting to control his breathing.  Less than two minutes had passed, but already his lungs plagued him.  It took too much energy to keep up with a demigod.  Allure frowned.  "How strange.  I know that I could lose this fight, yet I feel compelled to attack, attack, attack.  This is not like me.  Perhaps the ugly bastard is influencing me."  He scanned the skies and steeled himself for an attack.

Suddenly, Lifprasil's spiral of death transpired into a calmed wavelength of glistening metal, floating idly underneath the oppressive sun. The eyes, both of which descend back into the adjacent holes in Lifprasil's helmet blink once before disappearing into mute darkness. "I am influencing you." extorted the calm, fair voice of the Demi-God, of whom now hovers within five feet of Allure. "Your haze of violence and rage has been lifted - and now you may think rationally." Lifprasil stated, and the fit gnawing at Allure's spine disappeared as if on a whim.

Lifprasil knew now, just a glance into Allure's unstable mind exposed tiredness. If Allure was smart, Lifprasil would think, his surrender would not have to be requested.

"Think rationally?  What a pithy phrase."  Another streak instantly cut across Lifprasil, this time perfectly aligned with his neck, and still the armor protected him.  No greater boredom existed than that on Allure's features.   "Ugh.  It looks like the gods have doted on you too much for me.  I concede.  Spare me, if you would."  He held his hands behind his back, seemingly unconcerned that a plea for his life just issued from his lips.  Surprisingly enough given his recent performance, he could not be bothered to care too much about his own existence.  Even in defeat he managed to be sardonic.   "Apologies and so forth.  You must understand, I really did not expect that last attack to work, so it's really not underhanded at all.  Anyway, I have a busy schedule but if it means not dying before I finish my job I will serve you willingly.  Choosing the winning side and so forth."  He executed a slight bow.

Lifprasil just gazes down to Allure, and slowly removes his helmet. This reveals his facial features, androgyny a befitting term to his irrefutable beauty. "Prosit, good creature. You are now a Knight of the Pantheonic Empire and her Peoples." Lifprasil greeted the newly knighted hero; before he burned a mark upon Allure's very soul with a bare finger. "State your mission to your King, good creature."

More confusion needled Allure when he beheld Lifprasil's face.  Though a tireless critic of ugliness and admirer of beauty he found himself somewhat puzzled by the arrangement of the demigod's features.  An odd sort of...prettiness, perhaps?  But nothing my refined eyes could delight in.  True beauty does nothing by halves.  As much as he imagined a good scar or three across Lifprasil's vital areas might improve his look, the hero of beauty would not go back on his word.  He crossed his arms when questioned and smiled.   "To seek out the beauty of the world and give it deserved praise!  To take the ugliness of the world and transmute it to gorgeousness in a crimson rebirth!  To show the emptiness and foolishness of eternal life by living mine as a mortal beyond compare!  And now, to adhere to your cause like a barnacle clinging to a rock face."  He did not evidently think anything to be wrong with these statements.

"You will do it by the pace set to you then, Barnacle." Lifprasil stated, his blade calmed upon his waist. It seems causing Allure some harm satiated its blood lust.

Slowly, Lifprasil monitored Allure's own face, he found the hero stunning, to say the least, but his vanity distracted from any aesthetic value upon his face. His nature was malleable, and his mind was weak - he would be a good servant. Suddenly, Lifprasil had a variety of ideas to fulfill Allure's purpose in life, assassin, general, but the most interesting would be assassin with that discerning hand. Much to one's own surprise, Lifprasil smiled and extended his open hand for Allure to grasp. [color=]"I think I'll call you Barnacle, friend."[/color] he explained.

A smile, and not an offered hand, greeted this explanation.  "How very typical of egotism.  Don't you think it's a little early for pet names?  I'll have you know my name is Allure.  I would call you by yours if you told me it."  Crossing his arms, the man looked off across the sands.  The desert heat did not fall pleasantly upon him.  "Well then, 'friend', what do you suggest we do now?  I expect you are very busy running errands for the gods.  Might as well tag along."

"We go to a shadier place. My name is Lifprasil, although if you favor my mother, Vulamera, you may call me Vesamera." Lifprasil explained to Allure "But by all means - our first mission is to retreat to a place much cooler than this. Barnacle." he teased, despite the strange lack of sweat upon his brow.
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