I'm back! Happy late Valentine's Day.
I'm sorry for the delay, but I've been doing a lot of shit. Hopefully this long chapter will be an appropriate apology. Also, you might have noticed, Crow isn't commenting. She decided that I was taking to long and abandoned ship.
But this has gone on long enough, LET'S GET TO IT!
No one's Pov
The year is 789, and we are seen within a square room. The room is, mildly impressive, and gives off the impression that a murderer resides this place… The impression however, is misleading, as not one murderer, but 8 of them live here. The walls are made from dark gray brick with shallow pipes emerging from them but all have bars sealing them up. From within the pipes, a green, glowing, oozing liquid pours out and into the grates that surround the floor of the room, leading into the four large steel plated platforms that are separated by the grates that are above the ooze. Chains hang limply from the ceiling, holding up hooks, skulls, or even a few odd hammocks or an even weirder suspended mattresses.
This place, is the hideout of a group of Dark Mages called the Blood Moon. There are only seven mages, but they are powerful, and their named after how they kill people or how they look when they kill people. They are as follows, The Executioner, The Assassin, The Warlock, The Butcher, The Trigger Finger, The Jester, and The Doctor. But as of now, six are locked in combat in their own base, deep within the Tropical Fens, a nature reserve being guarded by the unknown people of the Trolds.
The Executioner, with his massive bearded greataxe that should be too heavy for a normal man to carry around with one hand, swings around, disappearing into shadows only to reappear to decapitate one of his foes, his large sleeveless gray leather tunic doing little to protect him, his arms covered in small cuts, scrapes, and bruises, an arrow sticking out of his shoulder, and his eyes glowing brownish in color from behind his large skull mask that covers his entire head like a helm.
The Assassin darts around, slashing and stabbing with reckless ambition with the long daggers he wields, gleaming runes covering his black and green robes and the blackish long blades. He is thin and lanky for his race, a thin beard on his face and his hair is thin and wispy, as if it was more air than anything else, with no real volume. A pair of shattered horns emerge from his head, the ivory worn and weathered down, and a long K shaped scar crosses from his snout to his right ear over his eye and down to his mouth.
The Warlock is more mage like and tactful, summoning spirits left and right, holding up a tattered tome in one hand and a glowing magic circle in the other, her form covered in a brown and gray shawl and scarf around her head, showing off only her weathered eye patch and her glowing blue eye, expertly avoiding combat and letting her spirits do it all for her.
The Butcher… is unique. His feet are covered in large boots, black pants are concealed behind a blood stained leather apron with knives, bones, severed hands, fingers and toe, along with a blood soaked cloth stuck in the apron pockets, a bloody button up white shirt that has a few tears in it covers his upper body, the sleeves rolled up to show his blood soaked arms with the veins popping out from the strain and strength he is putting into this fight, while his wild blond hair that has red splotches in it and red tips is the only thing seen besides his horrific face on his head. His face, is nightmarish, hollow eternal blue eyes with burnt off lids that are bloodshot with insanity, a cruel smile carved onto his face that constantly bleeds, a long and jagged scar running across his face and over the bridge of his nose from ear to ear, smaller scars that look like wrinkles cover the rest of his face as well. In his hands, a large cleaver like sword in one and a brutal looking carving knife in the other, while his skin glistens, almost seeming to harden underneath the blood that stains on him.
Then, there is the Trigger Finger is doing what a gun happy assassin does best, shoot up the fuckin' room. With a Minigun. In each hand. While standing on a mattress. With a giant blue bubble around her. In all honesty though, besides her three point hat, checkered scarf she covers her face, and a pauldron and a pair of kneecaps, her entire outfit appears to be made out of gun and ammunition. Not one thing on her body doesn't have a holster or pouch that doesn't hold a gun or a host of ammunition clips or some sort of grenade. Chest, sides, back, hips, crotch, legs, boots, arms, even her gloves turn into gauntlet machine guns! A bazooka is on her back, barely brushing her sage colored ponytail, and her goggles are fixated with sights to better improve her aim.
Next, the Jester, who isn't clowning around when it comes to blood and carnage. She prefers to wear her flamboyant vest with a puffed up frill, a large and poofy hat with a trio of feathers coming from it, going down to her white mask with a red smile painted on over her lips that reaches up and crosses over her blue painted eyes. A long, thin, and cracked cut runs down the side of the mask, from where the mask starts at her left ear, down to her chin, barely nicking the red paint of her smile. Her hair is tied in twin low hanging pigtails, both a bright blonde that compliments her orange, white, and maroon attire. Her pants are also quite puffy, and have several white ruffles on them to make her pale pant's puff out more. Her gloves use to be white, but are stained red from the blood of her foe's. In either hand, a pair of throwing knives sit, spun idly, while her belt that holds up her large trousers is littered with throwing axes, knives, a molotov cocktail, laughing gas bombs, and a few fireworks. But, one look at her feet, and you can tell her magic. Under the soles of her feet, twin light blue magic circles sit, as she dances about, in flight or just running up walls and bouncing off chains.
Finally, the Doctor, the Ace of the Guild, nicknamed the Bloody Surgeon. Surprisingly, he is the most well known, but is hardly seen. He is known for one thing, and one thing only. Destroying rival dark guilds. One day, a guild known as the Twilight Ogres, recently booted out of Magnolia for questionable methods and bribery, as well as challenging the ruling Mage Guild there, the one and only Fairy Tail, they went dark and suddenly… just vanished. A few days later, one of the only members that took a job found his guild slaughtered in their base, the walls painted with their guts and bones, and the mark of the Doctor, a plague doctor mask, left in blood on the banner in their Master's office, painted with the Master's blood. Besides that? The only things known about the Doctor are some key things the few survivors have seen; A pristine white lab coat that is clean, even after a blood bath. A white top hat over a black plague mask with soulless eyes. A giant bonesaw sword/huge needle filled with poison or some sort of chemical weapon of mass destruction that he uses as a weapon. And finally, his magic, some sort of blood magic that isn't particularly well known, as he is extremely deadly even without it. And despite him being only their for a few weeks, he is by far one of their strongest.
As for the poor sods that are these seven killing machines enemies?
A wild strike coming from a dark looking macuahuitl to the Assassin, who catches it with his long daggers before kicking off the assaulting foe with a leather wrapped hoof. A long spear strikes at the Warlock, who dodges the strike and throws a impish looking creature at the assailant. A pair of wild throwing axes fly towards the Butcher, who swings his cleaver blade to bounce them off in odd way of deflecting the blow. The Jester dances among the chains, sending knives sailing out of her sleeves and palms as if that were her magic. The Trigger Finger turns her mini guns to shoot a volley of wooden arrows aimed at her out of the air, and to gun down the archers behind them. The Doctor is nowhere to be seen. Executioner swings his axe, only for it to get lodged into a wooden shield that looks like a tribal mask. Trolds, hundreds of the tribal warriors, hunters, and shamans, rushforth to destroy the hidden Headquarters of the Blood Moon Guild that has plagued their lands for far too long.
"Dis, be owa' lande, TROLD LANDE! Ye pink skuns be tinkin' dat you coud run from owa' wrath, but dat not be da case. Ye tink this be ye home? Ye haven? Ye sanctuary? No, I be seein' a graveyard, because we are gonna bury you here! Da Wavecalla's told us dat ye be all here, and so, owa' clans, da Grat' Toosk (Great Tusk), da Savan Soonds (Seven Sands), da Sadow Faungs (Shadow Fangs), and mi own, da Ruot Shaka's (Root Shakers), all come callin' for ya heads!" Bellows out a large warrior, his skin a light teal with yellow and dark green marks covering it, his three inch long tusks grabbed with golden rings, a large mask decorated with gold painted steel and green and orange painted wood covers the rest of his face. A feathery head dress made from green and blue macaw feathers flows down in two waves, parted by his long mohawk like mane of fiery orangish red hair. He is covered in wooden armor, made from gnarled roots with large steel spikes and rigges sticking out of it. A rather large looking macuahuitl with several blue runes painted into the dark wood rests in his palm that is raised up to his towering shoulder, and the end of the weapon rests on the ground.
"BWAHAHAHAHA! You, you are a threat! You are not the enemy! You, you are all meat! Lambs for the slaughter!" Belches the Butcher as he bellows, raising up his cleaver in one hand, and his carving knife still pinning the guts to the rib cage of a bloody corpse in the other.
The Executioner scoffs. "You will all be exterminated, beheaded by me and my Bloodaxe. Though, I do have some advice for your demise. I heard it's quicker if you keep your neck relaxed." He splits the shield his axe is stuck in, carving his way through the warrior on the other side with the sheer weight of his axe.
A rather small trold walks forth, dragging with him a rare weapon to be seen in their kinds hands; a crossbow. Bone, rope, and other nicknacks decorate the metal limbs. The wooden foregrip, stock and trigger area are carved with runes that are decorated with red paint, the wood itself smooth and fine. The trold carrying it is covered, head to toe, besides a slit showing their eyes and their weathered tusks emerging from the cloth that covers their head. Small bits of metal armor, worn handmade leather padding, and light tan cloth that was once white coat this figure, their leather gloves loading a shark tooth bolt with odd blue feather fletching into the barrel. "Ve vill cleanse da Fens of ya foul corruption. Owa' lands vill once again, be made pure." Comes the smooth shout of the Seven Sands marksman of a leader, hoisting up his crossbow as the outlaw like warriors cheer in approve.
"Now now, lads, the clouds have gathered, and now they burst into waves of fire! Our Guild is a storm of terror, misry, and slaughter! And before me, I see the pre-carnage! Time to make it rain lead!" Cackles the Trigger Finger, hoisting up her mini guns and takes aim at the Seven Sands.
"We will swallow your souls!" Screeches the Warlock, a host of various, purple and maroon impish looking demon creatures surrounding her, arming themselves with poisoned hooks, deadly claws, blazing jagged blades, and a few cursed tridents.
"It's raining, it's pouring, the old man is moaning, he went to bed with a knife in his head, and never got up in the morning!" Giggles the Jester, spinning a knife in her palm as she hovers over a large pile of slashed and knifed Trold warriors. She flicks her wrist, and kuni suddenly sprouts out of a charging Trold spearman's cranium, almost cleaving his frontal lobe in two, blood cascading down, making wake around the silvery gray blade.
Suddenly, a warrior from behind the Root Shaker Leader, the Seven Sands Leader, and the mute Great Tusks Leader who couldn't speak do to the size of her large tusks, approaches.
This warrior is different from his kin, for his skin is unnaturally ashen, as are several other fighters now pouring into the vast hall behind him. His head is covered by a metal helm going down and covering everything but his face, going around his head from cheekbone to cheekbone, a small ridge dipping down to gently poke his large nose, but a large, fanged, and obviously deadly looking white cat head rested on top of the helm, covering most of it, the rest of its body draping down and being used as a cloak, the arms wrapped around his shoulders. His face, from superior lip up, was painted starch black, small streaks and dips going down his bottom lip as well, as are most of the other warriors that march in. The warrior, along with most of his ashen brethren, have oddly colored red eyes, and instead of one set of tusks, they have two sets, one looking like the rest, the other looks more, saber like, but most definitely it is a set of fang. The warrior is riding in on a large, black cat like creature, which has a natural, furry/fuzzy, dark gray armor coating its body, a pair of large saber canines emerging from it's pink gum and out of it's gray lip. It has a makeshift saddle on it, holding up the warrior, who is covered in black leather armor and hides, with other furs, fangs, claws, and small skulls decorating it along with white markings that look like it's a skeleton. A particularly feral looking axe sits in his hand, one side a large polished stone like metal that has a wicked edge, the other side has long fangs and claws sticking out, making a nasty looking spiked hammer end. This, is the leader of the Shadow Fangs, a clan of Vampyr Trolds that are attuned with animals and the wilds.
"Dat might be da case… but ye forgot sometin'... 'e be not alone in dis fight." Comes the ridicule from the Chieftain of the Shadow Fangs.
The warrior gives a haunting grin, and motions for a few other figures to approach him. Behind him, three other figures on similar looking black cat like creatures called a Maahes.(1)
The first is a obvious male figure, covered in a long, blue cloak that has white trim and and decorations with white scale like armor plates over his shoulders and upper biceps. Underneath is a more blackish colored coat, with the same white trim and white plate armor, going along the entire length of his arms and on the sides where his arms would rest. Under this, a large and jet black plated armor piece sits, looking as it it were custom made to both give maximum protection and mobility, looking as flexible as an undershirt with all the muscle attuned grooves in it, either that, or his lanky body is showing through his armor, in which case is actually impressive. Below this, a battle kilt in a similar black to his coat with the same white boarder, but in the center of the triangular pieces of the kilt, a white symbol sits, but is covered a bit by the saddle of the Maahes he rides. Under the kilt is a pair of jet black pants, which go all the way down to his ebony colored boots that have a white leather trim around the zipper and cuff of the footwear. His hair is covered by the hood of his cloak, but his pale face is visible, showing off a wizened intellectual man who has been hardened by his travels on the road, but the prominent tribal red tattoo still bared on his face.
The second is quite comprehensively a female. She has a curvy, slightly built form that is all too deceiving. From neck to waist and wrist, a semi skin tight cuirass that is made of several tiny diamond shaped dark metal plates covers her upper body, a white leather pauldron and spaulder on her right shoulder and bicep as well. Her thin and dainty hands are covered in a pair of black fingerless gloves with white leather lining. Her hips are covered by a dark metal tasset that is covered slightly by a white, roughed up looking skirt with a white leather lining. Her legs are covered by black leather tights that lead down to her shin high combat boots that are covered by the black metal greaves and sabatons. Her fine, dimpled pale face was adorned with an uncharacteristic frown, her usually cheerful looking sky blue eyes now steely and calculating, the bangs of her shoulder length, virgin white hair flowing over them.
Finally, the final figure, a male, rides on a battle worn Maahes, it's armor plating scar covered and chipped at, the fur missing in some places, one of its eyes is blind from a nasty looking claw mark, yet it sits with an air of confidence and hard earned wisdom. Its rider has a similar air about him, added with another; a wind of deadliness and royalty sits with him. Upon his shoulders, a long black scaled cloak with a furred collar draps down with large, black plated pauldrons sitting on his shoulders. A white, scaly scarf is wrapped around his neck, and loosely falls down to a large, black plated mail breastplate, bearing a red mark on the center with a white border around it. The rest of his torso and upper arms are covered in a thin, dark gray sweater, only to be interrupted around his hands by a pair of large gauntlets, both black and scaly, as if they were made from a great lizards skin. They are plated as well, and in between the plates, a violent, manga like red glow is seen. A pair of white pants covers his legs, but is hidden under his own black metal cuisse, besides the part where his belt is, holding on it a well designed warhorn that has the engravings of a terrifying beast with horns and antlers, along with a long mane. On the opposite hip, a black hide satchel sits, a few scrolls and other oddities sticking out of it . His legs are covered in greaves and lead down to a pair of boots, both scaly and black, and are plated, glowing the same way his gauntlets are. But most noticeable about this character is his face. One might call is rough, and another might call it chiselled, but one thing is for certain, they would both say it was not the face of a boy, but of a seasoned warrior. A strong jaw that is furry, but doesn't quite have a pinkish/light red beard on it quite yet. His nose bares a jagged scar, a testament to his veteran like look, running down to the corner of his mouth. His draconic eyes gleam with an ironically cold and calculating look as he surveys the battle down in the room, his left gauntlet raised to brush some of his now shoulder length mane of light red hair out of the way of his eyes, showing two parallel thin marks going from his hairline down to his left brow, as if a pair of daggers slashed his face.
These three are Mages of Fairy Tail, Jellal 'Renegade' Fernandes,The Princess of the Wilds or as her friends call her Lisanna Strauss, and the Ace of Fairy Tail himself, The Hellhound, King of the Beasts, Prince of Dragons, and The Salamander, Natsu Dragneel.
Jellal's Pov
It is interesting, how we got into this… situation. It started about two weeks ago, when Vale took a contract from the Magic Council to take out the guild, Blood Moon. The job called for them to be taken out from the inside, and was willing to pardon any and all crimes committed by the hired mage/s. Vale, divines bless the confused and misunderstood boy, took up the job for the enormous grant in jewels it gave; almost two billion. However, it was an SS class job. The only mages that could be capable of pulling it off is Salamander, the Ace of the guild, or the Black Gate of the Guild, Gajeel Redfox. But, despite the warnings, Vale ran off and did it. Solo.
The news that he took the job reached Laxus's ears in no time at all, and in half a day after he took the job, he was scrambling to make a team to go after the silent and cunning teen. Never, in my time working with the young man, have I ever came to doubt his skill and strength, but despite all this, both Laxus and Natsu agreed that he, along with Sting and Rouge, the Twin Dragon Wings of Fairy Tail, as well as Wendy and Aine, are not ready to be SS class, despite all five being S class.
Natsu was adamant about bringing home the mysterious Dragon Slayer, and volunteered to go after him. Lisanna followed up by demanding to go as well. She may not be a Dragon Slayer, but she cares about them like family just as Natsu does. That, and from another job she had within the Fens, she gain the trust and honorary membership with one of the local tribes, the Shadow Fangs, a group of Trolds who are Vampyrs by nature, and are known for their Beastmasters. I was elected to join them as well, as they could use all the man power they could get… That, and it's my punishment for accidentally snooping on Laxus and his lady friend when everyone else was out of the guild.
After meeting up with the Leader of the Trolds, a Warrior by the name of Tamir L'utook, and his son, a Beastmaster and Mage by the name of Otar L'utook, we were told of how the clans wanted to siege the Guildhall of Blood Moon. I learned from one of the warriors as we rode our… odd, mounts to the Guildhall location, that to go and die in a battle, in a hunt, in a duel, or by old age for males was considered a great honor, while the same was for the women of the tribe as well, but they also added death from childbirth as a great honor as well.
Now, I look over the battle, and I can tell why they would want a siege. Many of the warriors here are older folk, their hair grayed and their tusks worn and their scars plenty. They, alone, won't win the battle, and those that are true fighters aren't as numerous, but with us Fairy Tail Mages leading the rest to victory, those that fall in this fight will think they died with honor.
I look over the few mages that Blood Moon does have. One of them, a lunatic of a man who is dressed like a horror movie Meat Warehouse killer, is carving a path through the old Trold Warriors, only struggling when a true fighter jumps into the fray. He doesn't look like he is using much magic, but from the look of how the blood on his skin is glowing, I am guessing he uses a type of Armament Magic, causing whatever liquid that splashes on him to turn into steel strong substance. Then comes the dark figure who flashes in and out of combat in black bursts, carrying a giant axe. He's using a similar magic to the magic council lacky, Doranbolt, and looks like his relying more on his strength than anything. I could probably take care of him with my speed, or Natsu with his explosive power. A woman in black and gray robes and shawl seems to avoid everything in the back, imp like monsters swarming out from her. A conjurer, using Summoners Magic, a weak version of Celestial Spirit Magic that relies on tomes or artifacts to summon monsters or demons to fight by their side, by the looks of it. And seeing as how none are flying, it should be a good idea for Lisanna to go after her, as soon as the gunner using Gun Magic and the clown using Windwalker Magic are taken out. By the looks of how the clown moves about, only a direct hit that can keep up with her can take her out. Natsu has the firepower, but going into a Take-Over this early into the fight to keep up with her would be pointless, and Lisanna won't keep up with her without taking heavy hits. I am the only one who can bring down the Jester without taking too many hits from those knives I see flying about. Then there is the outcasted bull. I recognize him, a waspy old Minotaur using daggers covered in Rune Magic. He's the notorious Rowan Totombreaker. He has been at large for nearly a decade. Now, by the looks of it, he is using his nickname the Assassin to aid this guild.
I already know who the last two mages are that I can't see. The newly made Ace of the Guild, the Doctor, who is none other than our own Valeimirion Griswold in disguise. He has taken out dark guilds that rival this one, which is also a side benefit to the Light Guilds for destroying some would be nucenes. And the last mage is the Guild Leader, Onkar the Undying. He was given his title when people discovered they couldn't kill him in traditional methods, due to his magic, Eldrazi Magic. It is a corruptive magic, to the point where even the use of it leaves marks on the person's body from a minor spell. Even a slight mistake slowly turns one into the Eldritch, the alienated monsters that created the corrupting magic. They are primarily ghastly white or ashen gray, with usually light blue, red, purple or pink highlighting their limbs and tentacles, along with other features under their ghostly armor and faceless heads. I have only met one other who used the magic, and was consumed by his own spell. He had became a large blob, a hump of white in the center with a mess of arms and tentacles flailing around the edges, flailing and twisting about in sporadic ways, like a pathetic whelp. But I have read on others who have ascended due to their magic, and became something much more. But those tales are few and far in between, and usually end up in insanity or the destruction of a few Rune Knight Squads. The only other magic that comes close to what Eldrazi Magic is would be Aberration Magic. But how I know of that magic is a story for another time.
"Natsu, we won't be able to take out the conjurer without first getting rid of one of the turreting fighters." Lisanna reported, softly tightening the reins on her mount so it would stop squirming.
"Agreed. And you and Lisanna won't be able to take out the fool dancing in the chains. I will take care of her, and try to draw in the Trigger Finger's fire as well." I remarked in response to Lisanna's observation.
"I be havin' a bit o' magic m' self, humons. I con teke care of da gunna with da saunds." Comes a smooth acknowledgment, as a smallish trold wrapped in cloth and armor carrying a crossbow comes forth. If my memory serves me correctly, this is the leader of the Seven Sands Tribe.
"Good. Lisanna, the Warlock is all yours. Decimate any hostiles in your path. This should be a good time to use 'that'." Insists Natsu, jumping off his mount. "As for me, the Butcher is bothering me. I am going to tear him down."
I nod, before rocketing off my Maahes, and activating Meteor and shooting off after the clown dancing in the chains. The orange, crimson and white girl laughs like a banshee before seeming to dance away, her feet barely brushing the chains before she is launched off in a different direction, a knife sailing from her hand in my direction. The blade hits the aura of my Meteor spell before a soft ping is heard as it bounces off, and I continue to shoot after her.
She weaves her way through the chains, like a spider through a web in the jungle. She sends knives, bombs, axes, and even a rubber chicken that turned into a Cockitrice at me. I dodge them, or they just reflect off me, besides the rare case of the Cockitrice, I merely destroyed it before it was fully formed. A fully grown Cockitrice is not something that we need on the battlefield full of weaker allies.
"So, I finally get a playmate who can keep up! Oh, this will be so much fun!" The She-Clown cackles, spinning around as she throws a pair of axes at me, both of which have a pair of runes on them. Fire Runes. Probably made by the disgraced Ox down below.
In a split second, I soar over them, and they hit some chains, exploding on impact. The wind gusts, and the chains rattle becomes deafening. Then a giant hammer meets my face.
I hear the crunching before I feel it, and I can hear the wind whistling before I know I am falling. When I hit the ground, I can already tell I dislocated my shoulder from the impact, and my nose is broken, and I got a few volts of electricity surging through me, but I am not giving this damned bitch the satisfaction of hearing me in pain!
Suddenly, something rather large, and judging by the pain in my legs that makes me roar out in agony, very heavy lands on top of my knees. I look up, seeing the maniacal grin of the Jester, and the giant looking maul in her hands. She took out my legs so I can't give chase after her… damn she is clever…
"Daw, looks like I already broke my new toy… and here I thought that a has-been Wizard Saint would be more resilient, or at least a bit smarter." She hums, casually bouncing between two chains, the steel links barely rippling from her movement. I snarl and spit out some blood. Fuck, might also have some internal damage… might have to do some of Natsu's training afterall to toughen up.
"That's the thing… I didn't charge in unprepared… GRAND CHARIOT!" I bellow, the seven seals above the clown glow, she whips around to see the marks and barely starts running before my attack lands on her, and she screams out and pain, landing not far from me, smoking and twitching.
"W-what was that… about being more… resilient?" I quip, giving a bloody grin to the unconscious mage.
I roll onto my side, and give a look to Lisanna, and give her a thumbs up. I croak out, "Jester down…" before collapse on the ground, not particularly interested in getting up any time soon.
Damn, what was that I said about not taking that much damage?
Lisanna's Pov
I give a grin to Jellal. Wish I knew some healing magic to get him back into the game, or at least if we had Wendy… but the mission has to come first. I can't let Natsu down. I haven't done so once for the past five years since the others went missing, I won't do so now!
I look to the onslaughting wave of impish creatures keeping the Trold warriors at bay. None of them seem to be flying, despite some of the larger ones having small wings on their back. Easy pickings.
"Take-Over; Satyr Soul!" I cry out, rushing forth as I feel myself change. From my shoulders to my midriff comes leather armor covered in light gray wool and fur, giving a rugged sheep look to it. I have gray wool shorts that go from my stomach to above my knees. From my knees down, my legs are that of a goats, complete with cloven hooves and digerate muscles. Over my face, a black and light gray masquerade mask that mimics wool/fleece of a goats face sits over my eyes and touches the bridge of my nose and cheeks. From the top of it, a pair of 30 inch horns extend out and curl back slightly, ready to strike any who stand in my way.. My arms gain a bit more mass than their normal dainty look, but look nothing like Natsu's taunt pythons that he calls arms. Finally, my hair grows out a big and is matted down a bit so it won't be in my way as I charge.
"Come at me, you devils!" I shout, drawing my left hoof back, getting lower to the ground. The hordes of pathetic wannabe demons howl in rage, before charging at me, the imp like creatures swinging about blades, leveling tridents, or are ready to hack away with hooks or claws as they lunge at me.
"Spring Rush!" I shout, before I take off, a light green aura surrounding me as I barrel through the horde of weak imps, the ones that perished disappearing into purple smoke. I spin on my hoof before head butting another imp, my horns breaking his own and his skull. He fizzles into purple smoke.
Several Imps with tridents start poking at me, backing me off. I give a grin, before another magic circle encompasses me.
"Take-Over; Ursine Soul!" I cry out, as I feel myself grow to the size of Elfman. White fur grows out over my forearms and from my knees down. My nails grow out into 3 inch long, straight, black claws, and my hands become catcher mitt like paw like while still retaining the fingers and thumbs like a hand, while my feet go from hooves to paws. My body is covered in a white, fluffy, fur one piece with great pauldrons made from white leather and covered in pale hide, with the hide extending down and making a gorget around my collar and lower shoulders and extends down to protect my chest and upper ribs. My hips are covered in a white leather tasset covered in a white hide kilt that goes down and ends in a fur line right before my knees, white a large white nub right at the end of my spine, making it look like a cute bear tail. My hair lengthens, going from down to my shoulders to reaching the center of my shoulder blades in a messy mane of white fur, a pair of round ears poking out of it. I give a fanged grin as I flex my fingers of my massive paws and swat a trident and the imp holding it aside effortlessly, watching as it becomes purple smoke mid air.
"Anyone else feel like pissing off Mama Bear?" I growl, ready to rumble with these weak chumps. They all howl out, brandishing their weapons. Typical. I rush forth and smash my massive fists into two, sending them to bowl over their brethren. I slam my hands into any imp that comes far too close for my liking and stomping on those who are underfoot, purple smoke surrounding me. But, the cycloptic bitch with the weathered tome is summoning more and more, fending off the Trold warriors and me. Time to change that.
"White Quake!" I shout, slamming my fists onto the ground, sending all the imps down, flat on their little spade tails. The moment their down, I surge forth, stomping and stamping on any Imp in my way between me and the Warlock. The moment I am in front of her, I let go of my Ursine transformation.
"You may have slaughtered my minions, but I still stand strong! You, you are weakened, and are ripe for the reaping! I will claim your soul and corrupt it, making it my most powerful demon yet!" Cackles the Warlock, and I suddenly feel the sap of the two Take-Overs on my strength. Sure, it's enough to make me break a sweat, get winded, and have a few cuts and bruises, but like hell am I even close to being done.
"Is that so, well, sorry to say this, but Strauss's are known for disappointing anyone who tries to control us," I boast, feeling the largest magic circle I have summoned that day appear behind me. The Warlock, despite her face coverage, looks a bit paler as I turn.
My hair lengthens down to my mid back, and a portion of it flows down to my chest and around my neck, making it look like I have a mane made from blood tipped snow. I grin, showing off fangs and sharpened teeth, as two cat like ears extend from my hair. A pair of horns emerge out of my head an inch above my brow, passing my cat ears and corkscrewing around into 10 inch long gemsbok like horns. My hands and feet shift into fuzzy, white, feline paw like appendages, with silver, razor like claws that gleam in the torch light on each finger and toe I now adore a huge pair of bat like wings that spread out from my back almost 15 and a half feet each, with 3 inch dagger like claws at the ends of each individual 'finger' on the wings. A monstrous, plated, and ribbed appendage coils its way out of the base of my spine, large spines and spikes surrounding them emerge from the plates. At the end of the four foot long tail, a eight inch long, blade like, hook shaped stinger appear, dripping with venom.
"Hehe, haven't had time to test this one out… so you should feel honored that I am using it, after all, it is now one of my most powerful takeovers to date…" I purr out, my words almost seem as venomous as Cobra's on a bad day. I spread my wings and uncoil my giant scorpion tail, showing off my mass and power.
"Take-Over; Manticore Soul." I chuff, beating my wings as I watch as the Warlock pitifully summons a few flying Imps to stop me. I just cackle as I let the feral instincts and the boiling rage and insanity of the beast within become untethered. With a few beats of my wings and simple swings of my arms, the imps heads and appendages become severed, and fade to smoke, leaving behind my silhouette floating in the purple clouds.
"I think I should say this now before I let loose completely, Sorry for whatever I do in Beast Mode!" I yelp, before the savage mind of the beast partly takes over and charges at my only target; Her.
Natsu's Pov
Each step I take closer to the Butcher, the flames around me grow. At first, they are no more than barely lit embers on my cloak and armor, but they grow, smoking and smoldering as they rise. Soon, the autumn colored flames leap and dance all around my armor and rise from the end of my cloak, throwing cinder and sparks behind me like leaves spiraling in the wind from falling off the Maples in October. My eyes, and the gauntlets and boots, however, were not spewing normal flames, but rather the blackened crimson, dark violet, and charcoal black heat that was Hellfire.
I watch as he slams back warrior after warrior, old and battleworn warriors lain dead at his feet, their blood caking him in a suit of armor, specifically around his arms and torso, and boots. He is brutal, without mercy and honor as he downs warrior after warrior, not one spared by his relentless bloodlust. He is strong, shattering shield and armor of the brave Trold Tribesmen that throw themselves at him, either for a honorable death, or to keep him distracted as other take care of the rest of his guild, as I see the Leader of the Seven Sands take on the Trigger Finger, bullets pounding into the swirling tentacles of sand that have emerged from the stonework and crossbow bolts and sand covering the mattress fortification she sits on.
Meanwhile, Lisanna duels it out with the Warlock, the later's Imps becoming smoke as the former completely rips through the merger forces of the Warlock. I can tell by the look in her eyes that once were the same shade of blue as the great lake behind the guild hal- Wait, shutupshutupshutup! Your in a battle field, Natsu! Get a hold of yourself, and stop looking at Lisa's fine, barely covered bu- FOCUS! Gods… how have I lived this long in a Guild filled with woman that somehow seem to be wearing bikinis or very revealing clothing a few years ago? Fucking hell… How in the ever loving god's flaming shit hole called hell did I not notice the sexual tension in the Guild! Actually, don't answer that… I'm not even supposed to be breaking the fourth wall yet… wait, wasn't there something I need to be doi-
CRUNCH!
FUCKIN' HELL! WHAT IN THE NAME OF MAVIS FUCKIN' VERMILLION WAS THAT?! DAMN IT HURTS LIKE A SONOFABITCH!
I refocus on what's ahead of me, only to see a giant cleaver like blade lodged into my breastplate. By the looks of it, it didn't go in far and hasn't gone past my shirt underneath, but I could still feel the force behind it… and damn does this son of a bitch pack a punch.
I shove the blade out of my armor and kick the lunatic who is wielding it back. He never breaks eye contact, his lidless, bloodshot eyes bore holes into my own dark eyes.
"You looking for an invitation? Come at me!" I shout, moments afterwards he charges forth, and I rush forth to meet him in combat.
And I hate making a cliffhanger here, but I've been working on this for a while and you all have been waiting for it just as long. So I'll wrap it up here.
Now, with Crow gone, I am looking for a new person to revise my work, so if you want, PM me about it.
-DSoNaH