"So that's what you call yourself, a Nephilim?" Genevieve inquires, hoping to get to know of the person that she'll be with for the rest of her long trip. His crow, Dust, perching comfortably on his tattooed shoulder "'That some sort of species?" Death nods,
"We were once a great race, a cross of demon and angel. We had a desire for war and conquered countless worlds. Crushing all who stood opposing us."
"You said 'once'."
"Yes, once." His glance becomes more astray from the girl as his mind roams elsewhere. "My three brothers and I are all that remain. As the Four Horseman of the Apocolypse."
"Woah, What?" She gapes in awe, "That's so freakin' crazy." Death finally looks upon Genevieve with a glare holding zero settlement. The bird caws threateningly with it's wings fully spread.
She cringes with an apology squeezing between the spaces of her teeth. When she resumes her posture, she gains courage to continue the conversation,
"Mind if I ask what happened to them?" Raising cream hands in front of her, "But you don't have to answer If you don't want to!" She is careful of stepping over the line of whom is already giving looks that could kill her once more. But the cautious mortal does no such thing, for Death looks over his broad shoulder to her with eyes glowing dimmer than before.
"We had our sights set on your world. That is what happened."
There is either remorse or anger perceptible in Death's one, It is hard for Genevieve to tell. Though her hand rests on his forearm, "I could never catch how dreadful that must feel. But it's not all bad." She adds with a bit more optimism. "At least you still have your family."
Death chuckles briefly in the same tone as before. "You probably understand loneliness better than I could ever fathom." The girl's face twists to confusion at the response. Death goes on flatly, "Having no one, even after your demise."
'The hell does he mean by that? She wonders.
"Well, that's not true." The soul argues, attempting to understand the meaning of his sick joke. "I got you, don't I?"
Before Death could give an answer to a question he found to be almost sickeningly ignorant, hissing and clanking metal creeps closer in a neighboring hallway. His arm outstretches across Genevieve's chest, wary of not burning himself again. Dust flaps off of his Nephilim perch into the darkness to find a safer place to rest. Brittle, black feathers floating to the ground in it's wake.
"Death, what was-"
"Quiet!" He pushes her back around a darkened corner."If you wish to hold onto your tiny forlorn existence I suggest you remain here." Death stresses, "Do not move a muscle." Her head bobs quickly in agreement with body tense, complying with his order. His broad torso spins away from her and he disappears into the corner to destroy the source of the rasping, deep growls. Genevieve peaks with heavy curiosity at the strange new sounds. Sounds of intertwining swords, braking armor and cracking skulls. Even though given many commands in life, this young spirit was never really known to listen.
Her golden laced blue eyes peep ever so slightly out from the corner of the hall. Her eyes gape and her jaw parts from the match before her. Three skeletons that look to have once belonged to great soldiers from centuries, possibly millennia ago. Wielding heavy swords, they attempt to gang up on the pale rider, circling him and swiping their weapons. Death blocks and counters each attack with his bone lined gauntlets and scythes. Two of the soldiers that were opposite of the warrior swipe at once, aiming at his shoulders to break off his arms. Death catches the swords mid swing in both of his scythes. As he holds both the swords baring down on him, the third skeleton roams around his back, it raises it's piece to strike his protruding spine.
A pelvis bone casts through the air and bounces off the ancient skeleton's helmet. It twists it's head with a heavy breath that sounds similar to a low roar. Genevieve hails more rocks and skulls at the distracted soldier, some hitting the other skeleton fighting onto Death's right, bringing it's attention to her. Harvester receives some slack and lends a chance to cut one of them down. Slicing through the corpse's torso breaking through the armor, he has time to focus on the ghoul on his left, gauntlets grip the soldier and swiftly tears it's head and extremities with both hands. Kicking the still standing pieces to the wall ending with an explosion of olden bones.
Death hears the roar from the final skeleton that has it's glowing blue sights on Genevieve. It had already made its way far down the corridor that holds her hiding place. Genevieve keeps away from being in the sword's range but the creature lunges to her with it's gauntlet in a fist, punching so deep into her stomach, she feels the impact in her spine. The delicate entity heaves much like dying car in an old cartoon and collapses to the ground before the riant soldier. "WEAKLING!" The monster calls her with it's scimitar- like sword unsheathed. She coughs uncontrollably and eyes water from the pain in her gut, looking up to the monster that cruelly savors her fear. "YOU HAVE TAKEN MY SOUL, REAPER!" It roars, raising it's weapon, "NOW I SHALL TAKE YOUR BAWD!" The blade hails heavy down to her aiming for her slender neck.
It misses, the sword puncturing the ground instead of flesh. It blares a bothered groan while it attempts to pull the steel from the solid ground. It allows Genevieve to have room away from it and to wonder where her supposed protector is. She spots Death about twenty feet down the hall looking strangely content. His weapon is unequipped and back on his person. He leans on the cobblestone wall with arms folded focusing on her intently. Genevieve finds it queer, he looks like he's patient for something to happen. She finds his look so unnerving she began to shout, "Having a good rest there, chap?!"
"Oh, quite!" He freshly answers. Tugging the weapon it had driven so deeply into the floor, the sword finally releases and the skeleton hurls it at Genevieve's face. Pulling her head down with her hands she ducks the attack. "FUCKING HELP ME!" She wrathfully orders when she jumps back up to stand again. Only he does nothing of the sort, he merely leans there, watching intently as she dodges every onslaught the creature inflicts."You have no need for my aid," He calls back as the creature persists at her. It's anger intensifying with each stride. "Not yet."
"ENOUGH!" The ghoul barks and pulls Genevieve hair at the base of her scalp as she dodges his last sword swing. She yelps, dragging to wherever the skeletal hand guides her. It pulls her to it's chest plated rib cage, holding it's cutlass holds around her neck. "YOUR EXISTENCE CEASES NOW!" The cutlass shifts and falls heavy to the ground. The steel is clean of any blood, failing to puncture the skin of it's hostage. A decapitated arm clumps the stone and a demonic shrill is heard. Genevieve's locks gain freedom and she hastily pulls away from the suffering monster. Watching how two heavy blades stab deep into it's back and the ghoul hushes from shock. Reacting to how it is effortlessly ripped apart in one swift pull of the scythes. Olden armor and bone burst in a split second, showering the area around them.
When the last bone falls, The pale horseman returns Harvester to it's true place on his hips. Catching the damsel's face, her look steaming ferociously rather than distress. She lunges at him, throwing punches, kicking and roaring into his chest. "YOU LOWLY PIECE OF TRASH!" Her pipes nearly pierces Death's ears and four jagged scratches glide down his cheek, unable to leave a mark and barely hurt. None of her blows really do.
"You almost let me die! You were supposed to protect me! You liar! You're nothing! You-"
She throws her arching fingers out to Death's face to slash it again. His palm beats her to it and holds her straining wrist but does not put any pressure. "You did well out there." He says to her. The blows cease as her look switches to her previous confused look. "You're very quick on your feet and predicting people's movements. Which means you'll do well of keeping out of trouble, as well as keeping close to me." He continues, letting go of her spiced arm. "Perhaps. . . Perhaps you're not entirely hopeless."
"Uh. . . Thanks." She mutters, unsure on how to take his compliment. A light bulb blinks bright in her mind, finally getting why Death was standing so idly by. "Wait! So that's why you just stood there watching me get my ass kicked? For some sort of fucking test!?" She demands for an answer. Getting as much in the pale horseman's face her shorter stature would allow her.
"You were the one who believed that it was a smart idea to bring all of that unneeded attention towards you!" The Executioner's tone grows low and harsh, "But to be blunt, I honestly believe you deserved it." His neck shifting closer to Genevieve's level, their faces inches apart. His pointing forefinger separating a dangerously thin line between them, "I thought that since that skeletal warrior had already made it to you, I might as well have seen how long you'd last."
The mortal's face was tingling and can almost feel her eyes go bloodshot from the fury boiling inside her. Her hand itching to rip off her necklace and stab the sharpest, longest tip deep into his glowing corneas. Then Death continues farther, the inches between them seem more like centimeters. His confidence grants him to tread over the line. "Yes, and about you getting you're arse kicked, I just felt due to your crassness, that you weren't kicked enough as a child. Perhaps I have thought someone else should continue where your elders have fail-"
Death chokes on the final syllable in his scorning when a fist crushes his addams apple. The girl's knuckles retract and her arms fold as she storms away from Death who coughs slightly at the sudden blow.
"That actually, hurt. . ." Death thought, clearing his throat.
No child of man has ever come against him in such a way. Death was feared by all in the Third Kingdom. A God before men and this woman, this mere, valueless human, punches him dead in the throat. And it actually pains him. The two remain silent as Death regains the wind that had been knocked out of him so sharply. Staring at the girl bitterly sitting on the cold floor with her back against the wall, hugging her knees in her chest.
"What are you called, human?"He asks, having fully recollected himself. Her anger seethes through her glare up to him, then returns forward.
"Genna." She mutters flatly.
"That's a horrid shortening for a name." Death complains, "That cannot be what you're truly called."
"I know." She chuckles softly at the ground, she then shrugs, "My names just far too long to pronounce so it's just what everyone calls me."
"How lazy of them."
Her chin raises from the space between her kneecaps. Looking up trying not show too big of a grin. Her almond shaped eyes gazing up to him look bigger from the position she in. The shaved gold in her sapphire irises gleaming.
"Genevieve Hanson."
Hey lovelies!
Updating a few edits on grammar, debating on keeping the Skeletons to talk but I'm glad I did! I vaguely remember the Undead Champions having dialogue in game. So I thought giving them some famous last words to such a quick kill off. All the more satisfyin !