Scholar of Sparda
DmC != mine
Three sons born to a demon knight:
A seeker who covets the father's might,
A hunter to set the sins of the seeker right,
A scholar that seeks to avoid the light,
All with a purpose, to end the world's plight,
When the seeker has plunged it into unceasing night
-(Chapter 1
The small, unnamed shop opened by Dante Sparda was quiet that night when a bald man in a suit, the left side of his face marked with a large, nasty burn scar, walked in and delivered an "invitation" which came in the form of a group of murderous minor demons. Dante had already killed the lot when another silver-haired young man walked down the stairs, a dark green trench coat over his shoulder, hooked on his fingers, observing the wreckage from the smashed jukebox to the flipped desk. He wore a low gunbelt and a sword belt with a black scabbard on the left detailed with a serrated red pattern on the spine. The scabbard held a saber with an ebony hilt that lacked a hand guard (similar in style to Hadhafang, Arwen's aword from LotR). An ornate gold-detailed single-action .357 magnum revolver with ivory grips emblazoned with the symbol for the clubs suit was holstered on his right side. In his other hand he held an ebony pipe inlaid with silver.
"What the fuck is going on down here, Dante?" he asked, putting on his jacket and packing his pipe with tobacco. He drew the revolver, opening the loading gate and rotating the cylinder, making sure that the weapon was loaded before snapping it shut and returning it to its holster with a spinning flourish (Jango Fett in Attack of the Clones). "Just an invite to a party Vergil is throwing. You coming, Cicero?" Dante replied, putting on his own coat, which was of a crimson hue. Cicero rolled his eyes at his brother's cocky demeanor. Unlike his older brother, Cicero was wearing a shirt, a black one, to be precise, and had his hair in a ponytail with a few loose bangs hanging over his eyes. His eyes were a distinctive onyx hue, a trait he had inherited from their mother, unlike his brothers, who had dark blue eyes. His legs were covered by a pair of gray pants and his feet were protected by a pair of sturdy black combat boots.
"Sure, why not. It has been a while since I've had a chance to visit our errant elder brother," Cicero replied, shrugging as he held his pipe between his teeth. "Well, let's not waste time then," Dante said, smirking and kicking open the door. Outside was a crowd of more of the shop were yet more demons in black cloaks carrying scythes. Dante smirked and slung Rebellion, a large, broad sword with both human and demonic skeletal motifs, over his shoulder while Cicero held his pipe in his mouth, struck a match and, lit the tobacco within. Tossing away the match, he drew his own blade, which shared the red detailing of the sheath along the spine of the black-finished blade. The edge gleamed a wicked silver as Cicero sliced a demon in two. The dark red detailing lit up as be did so, emanating a sanguine glow as it drew in the blood of its victim. Cicero proceeded to destroy yet more of the demons, from black-cloaked scythe-wielding Hell Prides and the walking bomb Hell Wraths to agile, red-garbed Hell Lusts, using lightning-fast strikes and parries, smoking all the while. Dante, meanwhile, was using his massive blade to cleave through multiple foes in a single swing. Even a pair of Hell Vanguards, much larger foes wielding scythes with glowing purple blades were no match for the half-devil duo as the Sparda brothers tore through the throng of lesser demons.
The pair proceeded into the city, Dante using Rebellion and Cicero beginning to use his revolver to extremely lethal effect. By doing so, the pair of them were able to carve a path through the streets and toward the tower which had arisen from the ground where Vergil was no doubt waiting for them. "It's been a while since I gave Lucky a workout like this," Cicero commented idly as he sniped some new archer-type enemies who appeared on the rooftops, letting Dante deal with the weaker foes with either Rebellion or his 'girls', a pair of customized M1911's, fittingly named Ebony and Ivory for their colorations. "I know what you mean, C," Dante replied as they entered a bar which had obviously been trashed. Cicero, his pipe spent, disposed of the ash and returned it to the inside pocket of his coat where it normally resided. "You know, you never did tell me how you got that revolver," Dante said, grabbing a shotgun off the wall. "I was in Vegas and I won it from the owner of a casino in a game of poker. He was a former courier and he said that he found it in a locked floor safe in an abandoned casino," Cicero explained. "Still don't understand why you didn't want a gun like mine," Dante said, shaking his head. "It's the principle of the thing. It feels like cheating if I never have to reload. Besides, my ammo pouch generates rounds like your girls' magazines," Cicero replied as he reloaded Lucky. They then moved on into a strip club attached to the bar. "All these bloodstains, but no bodies. There are some disturbing possibilities as to where they went," Cicero commented as he and Dante fought off a group of Hell Sloths, larger, teleporting enemies in white robes, in addition to the usual rabble of Lusts and Prides. "Killing all of these guys is starting to get a little tedious," Cicero said, pistol-whipping a Lust who got too close and unloading a round into its face as it staggered back. He holstered Lucky and drew his saber once more. "Dracula is a bit thirsty," he commented darkly. Dracula was the weapon left to him by his father, Sparda. It was a devil arm created from the soul of Dracula, a demon who was stranded when Sparda divided the Demon and Human Worlds, and spawned the legend of the vampire.
In his time in the Human World, Dracula drank the blood of numerous victims, and even as a devil arm he still demanded a taste of blood each time he was drawn, refusing to be returned to his sheath until his unquenchable thirst was temporarily sated with a sanguine offering, from his wielder I'd that was the only blood available. Cicero's greatest asset, however, had yet to be revealed. That was not to change any time soon, as the pair came upon the entrance to the massive, hellish tower that had sprouted up in the middle of the city, destroying quite a bit of real estate in the process. When they entered they found a massive three-headed dog sheathed in frozen armor chained up in front of the entrance in an icy antechamber. While Dante mocked the beast and provoked it to attack, Cicero holstered Lucky and held his hands out to his sides in a sign of nonaggression. "Looks like you made this is a personal fight Dante. I'm gonna let you two settle your differences without my interference," he commented, regarding the three-headed hellhound with a calm gaze. "Oh, a coward. You don't have the courage to face me, mortal?" Cerberus asked. "No, but I think my help will not be required, not for one so weak as yourself," Cicero replied, a small smirk gracing his features. That was because his elder brother fired a salvo of highly charged shots from his pistols which hit the leg of the beast, smashing through the frozen armor and causing the creature significant pain, forcing it to its knees, which gave the elder demon hunter an opening to attack the three heads with Rebellion. Though the hellhound eventually freed itself from its shackles and began moving rapidly through the room, Dante avoided its attacks and kept the pressure on until the beast was vanquished. Cerberus admitted his defeat and gifted his power to the victor. He granted Dante a Devil Arm, an ice-element three-rod nunchaku-type weapon. Cicero walked his elder brother once Dante had finished playing with his new toy. "What do you say we split up? I think I might search around for an alternate entrance," Cicero said. "Go for it. Don't do anything I wouldn't do, C!" Dante said, proceeding on with a lazy wave. "I hope I have more restraint than that. Anyway, I'll catch up with you later," Cicero said, leaving and circling around the building, where he found a smaller door made up of demonic bones set in a hidden recess. He entered and was greeted by a booming demonic chuckle. "Welcome, young half-breed, to my small portion of Temen-ni-gru. I am Hades, and my wife and I eagerly await your arrival at my inner sanctum. The way is open to the dead, but I fear that you must pass through a more dangerous route," the voice said before a group of bronze-armored skeletons shambled forth. They bore weapons from Ancient Greece, wielding bronze-tipped spears with massive bronze round shields, or forward-curving axe-like falcata swords. Cicero drew Dracula and, in a puff of black smoke, dematerialized, reappearing behind a skeleton and beheading it in one clean stroke. "I must say, the hoplites are a nice touch. But I have tricks of my own," Cicero said, wiping out the skeletal soldiers, easily outclassing and countering their clumsy blade-work with his own exemplary swordsmanship. He moved on through halls of stone, which were veined with ores of valuable metals and caches of raw, unfinished gems and crystals until he came upon a tall set of double doors. In front of them stood a massive two-headed dog with black fur. The heads sniffed the air and began to growl, their eyes igniting with red flame. The flame grew to cover the entire dog. "You smell of Sparda, half-breed," the dog's heads growled out in stereo. "And you smell none too ripe yourself," Cicero replied, setting a hand on Dracula's hilt. "Jest all you like, half-breed. Your journey ends here." The hound leapt forward, leaving a trail of flames behind him. Cicero rolled away, starting to sweat due to the amount of heat the hellhound was putting off. Thinking quickly he drew Lucky in his left hand and fired a shot into the hellhound's foot, making it trip and fall, reducing the heat of its flames and allowing him to rush in and slash at the left head. The hellhound quickly recovered from the shot, however, and rose back to his feet, leaping back and emitting a salvo of fireballs from the right mouth. Following his elder brother's example with Cerberus, Cicero had little trouble dealing with the fireball-spitting right head and the flamethrower left head. Once he had been completely destroyed, the hellhound bowed its remaining head before the half-demon. "Enough. I submit. You may pass, and I will lend you my power," Orthrus declared, his body evaporating into red an orange flames and rushing to Cicero's hand, where it coalesced into a weapon. It was a double-bladed sword nine feet in length, with copper wire wrapped around the hilt. The guards were demonic dog skull motifs which had the outward appearance of charcoal. The bronze blades were serpentine in shape, like a flamberge, and, when Cicero grasped the hilt, they ignited with red flames. Cicero smirked, and began to twirl the blades all around his body, projecting arcs of flame, then blitzing forward and leaving a trail of flames, following up with a stab into the ground, with flames erupting out of the upper blade, showering the surrounding area. Cicero then twisted the hilt and the weapon separated into two equal halves, the flames extinguishing while Cicero placed the weapons parallel on his back, the left blade's hilt pointing down so it would be in proper alignment for quick attachment, where they stuck due to the application of demonic magics.
The deep, booming voice of Hades echoed forth once more. "Congratulations on defeating Orthrus, son of Sparda. You are indeed skilled. But how long until that skill fails you.…" "Not until I've turned your ass into a weapon, too. Holy shit, I sound like Dante now. Fuck, I need to spend less time around him," Cicero said shaking his head. Hades made no reply to the demon hunter's comments as he ventured further into the halls of the Underworld.
The next part of the journey was a little less eventful, consisting of a long walk through more stony halls lined with the riches held within the earth, occasionally interrupted by an attack by undead soldiers. Cicero was taking advantage of a bit of free time to pack and light his pipe when he arrived at the end of his current path. It opened out onto the bank of a large river in a massive cavern. There was a small dock there, and on the edge of it sat a wiry old man dressed in rough clothing beside a rowboat, an oar resting across his legs. "I'd turn back if I were you. I ferry only the dead," the old man said, not looking at Cicero. "I am sorry to disappoint, but I have gone too far to give up now. Besides, I don't want to give Hades the satisfaction by leaving," Civero replied, resting his hand on Lucky's grip, ready to draw. The old man got up, oar in hand, and turned around, revealing a long, unkempt beard and eyes like furnaces burning with ghostly green flames. "Fool. Now you have to die like the rest," Charon said, stalking towards Cicero. The young demon hunter drew Lucky and fanned the hammer, rapidly emptying the revolver. Charon simply took the hits and shrugged them off. "It will take far more than that to take me down, boy," Charon said. "A man can hope," Cicero replied, holstering Lucky and unsheathing Dracula. Charon, meanwhile, had closed and took a swing with his oar, even though he was still a ways away from Cicero. However, though the son of Sparda was outside of his physical range, he had to quickly leap up and over the wave of ghostly green energy which followed. "This is the energy of the underworld, mortal. Soon you shall become yet another soul to fuel it," the old man said, using a downward strike that sent a line of the phantom energy towards Cicero, who rolled out of the way. He avoided several more blasts before he decided that enough was enough. He used a shadowstep to get behind the ferryman and inflicted a quick trio of slashes before leaping back, avoiding the sweeping wave of energy the ferryman projected from his oar.
After two more runs of the same process, Charon was well and truly pissed at the half-devil. He made an inarticulate roar of rage and smashed the base his oar into the ground, his entire body exuding the ghostly green mist. "I think I'll try out Orthrus on you. After all, I haven't tested him on a strong foe yet," Cicero said, sheathing Dracula and drawing the two halves of the weapon and sliding the hilts together. With a faint click and a roar of flames they locked together and the blades ignited. "It makes no difference, boy. New weapon or not, you die soon," Charon said, only to be smashed into by numerous arcs of hellfire, injurig him severely and knocking him down. As he rose to his feet Cicero dashed over and smacked him with the flat of a blade, sending him down again, and set the tip at his throat. "So, Charon, will you yield?" Cicero asked, the light of the red flames of the blade near his face giving him a frightening appearance. "Fine. I will serve you as a weapon. It will allow me to rest for once," the old ferryman said before his body dissolved. Cicero put away Orthrus and held out a hand, where the essence of Charon formed itself into a massive hammer, four feet long overall, with a head inscribe with runes that glowed the same ghostly green as the energy Charin used in battle. The back of the head was a slightly curved spike, and the haft was a square bar twisted to give it a helical appearance (sorta like a twizzler). The handle was wrapped in black leather and capped off with a fanged skull pommel, the eyes and mouth of which also glowed (it's a modified horseman's pick. Look it up on Wikipedia or google). The glowing portions began to emit a pale green mist as he put the weapon over his shoulder. He began with a downward strike that released a pulse of ghostly magics in a circle around him, followed by a savage series of strikes with both the face and spike. For a finisher her assumed a batting stance and swung the hammer like a baseball bat, releasing a flare of magic as it drew level with his body. He let go with his right hand and allowed the hammer to rest on the ground, left hand resting on the pommel. "Fun," Cicero commented. He then looked around, expecting more mocking from Hades, but the death god remained silent. The silver-haired hybrid shrugged and, holding the head as a handle, used the hammer as a cane as he stepped into the boat, which set off of its own volition, taking him across the Acheron.
-(End Chapter 1
AN-
My second posted fic. What do you think? Please keep it constructive, I do want to improve. If you have an idea for another devil arm, put it in a review or PM me, and I'll see what I can do. If I use it I will give the inventor credit. Please include name, description, original demon, element, and a set of three or so abilities, like my notes for Orthrus here-
Orthrus- a double-bladed sword with a three-foot handle and two three-foot blades, Orthrus has a black demonic dog skull motif at the base of each blade, acting as the guard. The handle is wrapped with copper wire and the serpentine blades are bronze. The weapon is lit with dark red flames when in use, and when not in use Orthrus can be split into two equal halves for ease of carry.
Abilities:
Hellfire Blitz- Cicero charges and strikes an enemy at extremely high speeds, leaving a trail of flames.
Firestorm- Cicero swings Orthrus rapidly around him, projecting large arcs of flame.
Volcanic Gout- Orthrus is stabbed into the ground and the upper blade emits a shower of flames.