Steel trekking aloft stone steps, Velvet immediately eyed the commotion reigning the front gate of Port Zekson. As the burning horizon sank underneath waves to accept the shadowed depths, the daemon overheard Eizen's hurried conversing with a serious Benwick; a pair of downed guards at his feet.
"You say he was using a pendulum?"
"Aye, sir! And he blasted all the inspectors! I think he'd be a match for even the captain."
"Thank you. I'll look into this for myself."
Not even a moment could pass for objection, before the Reaper dashed right through the unexplored exit, racing along the earth in earnest.
"Hold it," the daemoness ordered as she stepped close to the amassing group. Each member gathered at the sudden situation, carrying varied looks of quiet concern. "What's going on?"
A yawn, and next came the weary words from the half-malak at the side: great cloak abbraising his form still with the bristle of its fur shoulders. "Eizen's punching first and asking questions later, as usual."
She ignored Sarid's useless remark with a head shake, looking to the frowning Samurai who gazed down upon the battered and motionless guardsmen. Their chests rose and fell with slight tandem: showing them as unconscious yet alive. "The exorcist inspection team was attacked by a pendulum-wielding malak."
Benwick grimaced, "The same type of weapon was found at the place the captain vanished from."
"And so you think the attacker's the one that took the captain?" Velvet assumed from the side, a dismissive crook in her brow.
"I don't know," the pirate admitted, until his face fastened with tension, "But this can't be a coincidence!"
The ravenette's knuckle rested at her chin as she stood in thought, "Aifread is in the custody of exorcists. Why would they attack their own?"
"What will you do?" Magilou playfully pranced forth, arms resting behind her head as the Witch smirked. "One of your keys is running off."
"I'm going after him. If they're already in disarray, causing more confusion will only benefit us."
A sigh etched with irritation came with her as she turned to the exit, half-malak clicking his neck with a stretch. "Then, let's just catch up quickly, preferably before that malak gets turned into a pendulum-wielding donut."
As Velvet and a cloaked Sarid sprinted off through the gaping gates: having been thrust ajar by the forthright Reaper, Magilou cried out with fiendish joy; "Pandemonium! My favourite!" And soon after did the rest join their rush in the wake of the Reaper's ire.
As their steps rumbled the dirt slumbering beneath this malicious night, the darkness of twilight blanketed the skies above with the winking sun having fallen to its own rest. With the daemoness at the bow of their stampede, the sprinting Barloc on her heel and the group remnants not far behind; the clashing impact of rushing wind and pounded ground resounded amongst the plain. Under the shadow of the Empyrean's Throne erected beyond this field of cobbled paths, burrowed trenches, sloping hillsides and aged boulders; the group whisked about between a pair of great land to spot the wreckage.
Constructed between these carved dunes, was a decimated outpost of the assumed inspection team: their thoughtless bodies draped upon its chilling grassland and against spiked logs. And, in a brilliant duel that threaded the site, was their steadfast Reaper holding up a firm balled fist while another pinched his pocket, whereas the foe he battled glared back with a smug smirk. The winding thread of a gripped pendulum scored his poised palm brought to bare.
The mysterious malak had his palm clench, before the pendulum struck out to whisk the dark air, gracing emptiness as Eizen slipped under: wrenching his hand back into a massive winding blow. All it struck, was the dusted wake of the foe's evasion. With a tsk of annoyance, the pirate glowered at the swift bouncing of the mystery malakhim, as the pendulum slicked back into his palm with ease. "Well! You're good, whoever you are," the pendulum-wielding man complimented with an entertained grin, ochre stare alive with a gleam. The voice was cool and casual, passion in each word and bouncing inflections that revealed the malak's flippant attitude.
Shrouding about tanned skin, was long and spiky silvery white hair framing his jaw with arcing tufts that jutted about the front from the crown, pulled back into a ponytail that held verdant tips, dangling to the bottom of his neck. A toned body, swiped with lines of white tattoo was apparent from the shirtless jacket he wore; black and striped with grey, its parted lining flared open to show the lime green within. Caramel bound the belt at his waist, a similar coiling cloth about his rightmost forearm; both limbs gloved in the same theme as his jacket. Below, the deep blue trousers of this malak were strapped with white thigh bags fastened to the steel buckle of the belt. Lastly, large boots of copied onyx made up his lower body, size pulled to the knee with its rounded head: lining another bright green.
As he spoke, the intricate necklace upon his neck jingled and shone, the detailed cross plated atop a circular back while the chain was flanked with great rings.
"I'm Eizen, the reaper," he growled, clicks of knuckles sounding out behind chocolate-coloured gloves. "...and Aifread's first mate."
"A buddy of Aifread's?" the malak repeated with a gleeful shrug, "Oh, this'll be too good!"
Icy blue lit up with a chilling gaze, a contrasting burn welling up behind the steely glare outlined in black. "So, you ARE the one who took Captain Aifread from us!"
"Oh yeah," he goaded, fists tightening with the edging smirk at his lips. "That's the spirit, pal!"
"Eizen, calm yourself!"
Orbs flashed to the right encroaching pathway, and hardened at the Wolf intruding upon their personal business. Velvet gilded stare was serious and etched with warning, her swift stride stamping metal grooves over earth as she stilled. At her back, came the slow of Sarid draped in his fur cloak, and the rest of the group halting at the heel as they looked on. "He's a malak AND he's against the Abbey. If we work together, we can pass the barrier."
A scowl snapped onto the expression of the mysterious malakhim, jaw tensed at the suggestion; "Don't give me your peacemaking crap!" His body lowered to a swift-stepping stance, grip imposed at his pendulum raring to go.
Eizen's gloves sqeaked with exertion, as his fingers sported white, "I'm settling this my way! right here, right now!"
"Stay out of this!"
Velvet's gaze shot wide at their combined shouts, until eyelids relented with a dry sigh as she pursed lips to the dirt below, before the daemon's brows split to a sharp angle: her glare piercing and ablaze as she bore into the two men ahead. "I see. Well, two can play at that game. I'll handle this my way."
Her booted steel scraped the earth akin to a gash, as her legs levelled out to a readied stance with her body twisting to the side, tense against the chilling howl of wind. Velvet's bandaged limb rumbled beneath the cloth vestige, as she raised it wild and openly clawed above the waist. "I'll beat you both until you're helpless... then open that barrier!"
A whistle of impression came from the mysterious man, as the duel transformed to a three-way standoff, with the Reaper's relaxed posture tightening in warning. From far above, the glistening moon and its audience of crowding stars watched; the staring group behind passing looks of indecision. And yet, the half-breed cloaked against the biting gales did not hesitate: veiled armaments remaining untouched as he stepped back from the rising battle.
Glare boiling with its aureate medallions, the daemoness' pearly teeth bared in the weighty silence. Time to remind them who the leader of this pack really is.
Whoosh!
The pendulum rocketed forth. It swiped the open air at her swerving pounce, slinging back to cast a devastating wave of wind into the steady guarding forearms of Eizen. He grunted, boots sliding back with a spitting of dirt underfoot, before his crashing crater of rock cracked earth: sending the opposing malakhim stumbling. A figure of darkness flipped over daggered outcrop, slamming a thundering heel downwards to crack into his jacketed shoulder. Velvet's swift and skillful martial artes pushed the malak onto a backfoot with twisting kicks as the unknown man stumbled back; a drumming ache wracking arms.
"Damn...! Girl, you are good!"
Wind reigned above, and a cyclone of the pendulum came swirling, slicing just above the daemon's twisting backflip: boot knocking the head of it skyward. An echoing shout, and the Reaper barreled through shattered stone with a booming right hook, hissing against the diving mane of black. Velvet sneered as she leapt through the amber mist, elbow striking spine and sending the pirate into a jaw-rattling blow: pendulum smashing into his cheek - forcing Eizen into a groaning falter.
"Your turn, malak."
With the Reaper sent tripping aside, the soaring pendulum came once more towards the daemon. Clang, clang, clang, as boot struck back against relentless strikes, the swift mystery man maneuvering the weapon masterfully; until one final throw slick past and Velvet's leg wound about the wire as she balanced, before swinging the limb back behind. Pulled forth, his face was flung into the bandaged grip.
Smash!
Heel twisted around his own, the ravenette slammed the man's head earthward: leg tripping the malak into a brutal fall.
"You'll get no apologies from me...!"
As dust erupted about the impact, a sudden siezing spark rang her head, as the daemon was dragged back. Fist bound in a handful of blackened strands, the pirate struck a side blow that forced a painful gasp from Velvet's lungs. Growling, the woman ducked under another arcing strike by twisting around this ruthless tactic; steel boot hammering right into Eizen's heel. A cry of screeching steel, and a crimson gouge bore into the Reaper's calf, and he fell to a groaning knee.
"Stay down, Eizen."
However, Velvet had no chance to enact upon this; a pendulum whipping shoulder blade, and the downed malak's unyielding knuckle crashing into her cranium. Ears ringing with a pounding daze, the woman did not stay out long, and as her sight caught the hailing fist chasing the retreating malakhim, her blade was ablaze in a single moment. Hidden arte: a ring of spitting fire whirled from the edge, charring the side of tanned skin and stunning the boisterous man as he tumbled. Eizen's dash halted to a grind at the pavement, the vanishing step he took as mist enshrouded the abrupt movement; blonde swerving under a lashing boot before a fist of her own rocketed into the unsuspecting skipper's gut.
Ringing steel flung outwards, slapping air as Velvet rolled in evasion - right over the hunched Reaper's back - and a swift spinning kick barreled the unfortunate Eizen into another stinging whack from his opposition's pendulum blowing him to a panting kneel. The incessant assault came again - with a few howls of laughter coming from the wielder - as a blitzing bandaged fist coiled about the outstretched line.
Velvet ripped the pendulum close, the string strained upon the malak's hands as she lowered in ready. Once more, the line wound around the woman's powerful legs, this time however as she spun along earth in a deathly wind twister, rotating legs whipping the weapon - and by extension its user - close to the ball of malignant steel and darkness. In a sudden great bound, Velvet's harrowing silhouette was cast in the moonlight, before her darting boot lashed the malakhim to grind against dirt in a devastating strike.
"Had enough?" she coldly questioned, pressing the hefty boot harsh against the mysterious malak's bare sternum; eliciting choked breath to splutter out despite the pristeen grin he presented.
"Well... where'd you come from then, lady?" he gasped out with a chuckling cough.
Rumble...
Velvet's gilded glare snapped behind, and the sunken form of the Reaper still remained, an outstretched hand focused upon the earth below. Without a moment's consideration, the daemon flipped away from her place atop, the grounded man rapidly rolling to evade the stabbing sprout of amber cast beneath. She landed, tense, as eyes bounced once more between the trio: the hunched forms of both malakhim contrasted with the daemon's deepened breaths yet resolute posture.
"Aren't you something special..." the malak crudely complimented, hand rested against the burn wound seared at the side of his abdomen.
Eizen said nothing, as his chilling stare snapped from foe to foe, always tensed and ready for another round. Yet, he similarly felt the heaving flow of oxygen pump back and forth in paces.
"You're both done, give up and help us destroy the barrier," Velvet bluntly demanded, wristblade snaking back within its gauntlet as she placed a palm at her hip.
Copper irises narrowed, the smirk undying at his tanned lips. "As if it's over!" With a grinning shout, the pendulum twirled about the dead skies and rocketed towards the unmoving daemoness.
Suddenly, a cloak unfolded; wings with a rush of air. A screech of wild steel on scabbard. The singing metal echoing over the distant plain.
Crack!
Akin to the snapping of a whip, a lash of inked wind slapped away the ringing pendulum back into the alarmed grip of the malakhim. With Velvet remaining unflinched, orbs zipped to the interjection, and out strode the cloaked half-malak, sword in hand; the group finally stepping forward with arms to bear. "Look... I didn't want to get involved, clockwork, but we've got other plans tonight. I recommend you just shut up and help." Sarid dryly remarked with a weary look, blade shrouded in a cape of coalescing verdant winds.
Even as the mysterious fighter had his surprise attack foiled, the grip coiled about his weapon remained tense. Fingers itching at the winding string, and no surrender appeared in sight. A smirk came to lips, and the half-malak daring eyes waited; anticipating.
"Last warning, this could get nasty..."
At his goading words, the Samurai stalked close to the poised Reaper with daggers drawn and steady, a firm grimace over his despirited gaze.
"...Wind," the mysterious malakhim mumbled to himself - a dangerous flash in the grim orange irises at his opposition's taunting look - with the increasing rotation of his weaponised pendulum soon swinging about the palm. "You think you can just get in the way...? Hah! Don't make me laugh!" A burst of matching lime-kissed gales blew outwards along the spinning head of the weapon, racing towards the half-malak.
The grip at the hilt tightened, and a trailing breeze came in the wake of its flourish, streaking past the weakened downward strike and cracking against the malakhim's grip. The pendulum spiralled off to the cobble path, clattering as the man inhaled sharply; clenching the stinging, bleeding bruise struck upon his hand.
"Oh, hell... I'm sorry," the half-malak sarcastically grumbled with a disgruntled scratch of his neck, "I meant to just knock the pendulum out of the air -- how's your finger?" At Sarid's mocking point to his own hand, the frowning man simply groaned with a low, incredulous chuckle. And Eizen, seeing his original opponent disarmed before him, relaxed; wincing slightly from the battering.
"Haha! You're all a treat, you know that?" The mysterious malak bellowed out, attempting to shake off the gruelling battle, as his ochre gaze climbed up to the daemoness that watched closely. "Especially you, lady. So, what's your plan after you've punched through this barrier?" His knuckle tapped the unseen, crackling forcefield - having been erected all this time at the exit of the camp - that sparked in chromatic waves.
"Kill the Shepherd."
Velvet's stare did not flicker, staring through the smirking malakhim as the group encroached at her side.
"Daaamn," the mysterious man remarked slyly, raising his arms in a waiting shrug. "That's a new one!"
"She's dead serious."
At the pirate's interjection, the malakhim couldn't refrain from letting an incredulous look come to pass; eye closed in dismissive relent. "Alright, alright..." he muttered, unwilling to test the daemon again. "You won the fight. What do you want me to do?"
A brilliant shine entranced the shadowed air, as a viridescent glare bounced forth from Magilou's extravagant posing. Bienfu stumbled out along the dewed plains, with the Witch's orders cast out in the silent twilight. "Are you ready my merry little malakhim? Now, line up before the barrier!" While the pompous raspberry wiggled in glee as she gestured towards this pulsing sheen, the four pure and great malakhim stood side to side before it. Eizen, Bienfu, the mystery man, and Laphicet.
Sarid stood off to the side, disconcerted, with a slight weary frown at being left out from being helpful once again.
Without a moment's warning, the young boy placed two hands at the gleaming face of this sizzling shield, until suddenly...
Pfftwooo...
The formidable barrier crumbled into twinkling gilded dust at his touch alone.
Eyes flocked to the boy who marvelled at the shimmer dissipating before his fingertips, the other malakhim looking on blankly with lips parted; limbs not even extended outwards at the barrier. It's expansive blockade faded into the bearing night, with the snaking valleys ahead belaying their awaiting target.
Velvet's eyebrow settled in its risen place at her forehead, while Sarid's mumbled curses aghast pelted against the palm pressed at his face; tight in frustration.
"The rest is up to you!" The proud statement from this mysterious malak broke the silence, as he shrugged and turned on his heel: making way through the parted lane of misfits. "I just want to see the panic on the exorcist's faces." Her golden stare traced his confident steps, before passing off dismissively, attention centered at their progress. However, the stern interjection that came forth interrupted the advance.
"Hold it. I still have questions for you." Eizen's commanding growl was heard, and reigned on the stranger's escapade.
"That's enough for now, Eizen," he replied, casting one final look the Reaper's way. "If you persist, one of us will end up dead."
The glare was laced in battling electricity, and the pirate's fists tightened to rock under his worn leather. "Who are you? Tell me."
"Zaveid the Whirlwind," the man announced, edging a narrow grin. "A fighter, nothing more." His shrug contrasted the shine in his toothy grin, and soon did the steady rolling earth grace his steps again. And, this 'Zaveid', sauntered off into the howling winds of Danann Highway; alone. And yet, as he trodded to the edge of this great hillside, his head twisted slightly one last time. The glimmer of bright teeth clear when he raised a single thumbs up to the half-breed stood mildly slumped at the group flank.
"You also seem real interesting!" Zaveid had declared to the still man, as Sarid's face dropped with a tired look. "Nice to meet another wind malak out here, so save me a fight when we meet again!"
"...You go get that hand of yours looked at first..." the weary man muttered with a pinch at the bridge of his nose. Even still, the mysterious malakhim snorted, and soon vanished around the corner of these plains: like the invisible gales that whistled in the night.
Velvet stared blankly at the frustrated half-malak, who blew off the scene with a distraught sigh. His violet met her gold, and the shrill light of offense came alight in the purple irises.
"...What? It's not my fault everyone wants to fight me."
The glint in her orbs rolled, and then shifted between the last of the opposing adversaries, and her gauntlets clanked sharp as the daemoness' arms crossed. "The barrier's gone. I won't stop you from going after him."
"No. I walk with you," Eizen eventually affirmed, tearing his iced sight away from the shimmer of a breeze that belied Zaveid's path. "Besides, Melchior is still my surest link to Aifread's whereabouts."
A mild chuckle of incredulity rang from betwixt her lips, and Velvet shook her head with closed eyes. "Could've saved a lot of trouble if you listened to me from the start."
"If I had good judgement, I wouldn't be where I am in the first place."
Those gilded pearls flickered open, aligned to the ground, encompassed with thought. "You really are a fool..." the daemon muttered to herself. Fingers rapped bicep as the moment passed with a shrill cry of wind; leaves fluttering past, as the hue of Brunhilt - ring of a lost - glimmered in the moon's glare upon her finger.
In gradual silent agreement, steps kicked up dirt as the group began their steady trek towards the grand Empyrean's Throne, formidable shape erected behind the mountainous veil. Despite reoccurring passes of apology coming from all except the weary and the bitter, this adventuring force plodded on in hush. Relatively.
Scratch...
The steps continued up the tilted valley, dashing gales billowing along its carved length.
Scratch, scratch...
Velvet's eye twitched, yet the crunches of her unrelenting stomps remained at the bow.
Scra-
Grind to a halt did the itching hand, as her deathly glare snapped from over shoulder with the advance reigned to a stop. Sarid gazed back with thin lips and a hefty stare, a couple clawed fingers frozen aside his quaintly strong jawline.
"...What?"
Head tilting slightly to the side, Velvet's orbs rolled as she passively tapped her hip. "Your scratching, stop it."
"Look, moody," the half-malak began with a withered glance, "My face is itchy, so; tough luck."
Face narrowed with a sparked fire, the daemoness' voice came harsh as she was prepared to reprimand the ignorant man. "Sarid..." she growled in response to his dry drawl.
"Oho!" Came a sudden spry interjection, as the gleeful Samurai stepped in and uncomfortably close to the cloaked half-breed; who proceeded to grimace still in his thick fur wear. "Get a load of this! The kid is growing facial hair."
Rokurou's energetic shouts called attention to Sarid's unamused expression - and more specifically - the many lines of thin dark hairs decorating the half-malak's jaw and chin. Despite the interesting contrast of colour, it was a suited new look to the man. As Sarid swatted away the Samurai's encroaching look with low grumbles about his age, a certain young malak marvelled at this: innocent green bouncing between the hairless faces of Rokurou and Eizen.
"He's got hair on his face, so what?" Velvet stated with a dismissive wave, one the half-malak silently agreed with lest the Witch gains more ammunition to injure his sanity.
"Well, my dear daemon-eater, in case you have so happened to forget..." mused the joyful words of the vibrant devil, "Our delicate half-blood here, is getting older." With Magilou's raised finger and fiendish grin - remaining blissfully aware of Sarid's grunt at her description - the Pirate hummed in agreement and slight realisation. In comparison to the immortal lives of daemon and malakhim in age, humanity is so miniscule and fragile.
"Do you think I'll grow any?" Laphicet had approached with a nervous rub of palms, yet a curious glint in his verdant irises.
As the mildly flustered Sarid turned and futily attempted to view his own stubble somehow, the knowledgeable Eizen turned with an unfortunate look. "Afraid not, " he stated with splayed hands. Frowning mildly at the dejected boy, the Reaper went on to explain; "Unlike humans and daemons, malakhim retain their original forms since creation or after rebirth. Assuming this is his first time growing facial hair, we can theorise that Sarid's human side is causing him to age: just at a slower rate."
Laphicet visibly deflated, dragging sight up to the awkward Hunter once more. "Aww... but it looks cool, and manly," he strangely complimented with a small smile.
Sarid's face went crude, as his jaw shifted to the side with dry tiredness, while the other two men snorted and smirked at the boy's words. "The kid isn't wrong," Eizen continued with a sly smile, knowingly getting on the nerves of the half-breed. "Suits your scars well, quite the change from the whining brat you were before."
"Okay, now that was uncalled for-"
"Agreed!" Rokurou rocketed in with a gleeful and, almost proud, expression. "You truly resemble a warrior, my friend!"
Naive pearls swerved to the side of one hushed in swaying darkness. "What do you think, Velvet?" Originally void of comment, Laphicet's abrupt question brought the daemon's mind to a sudden halt as she glanced ahead.
Ivory skin that was consistent across an agile yet built frame, blemished with dainty scars while worn with experience garnered through battle, flowing locks of snow; parted and kissed by the gentle breeze, the rough stubble laced along the sharp jaw and chin: scruffy but resilient. Lastly, lavishly rich violet orbs, brimming with depth and mystery, despite always remaining valiant.
Even still, there were embers within blown to a flicker. At the edge between a blazing fire, or smoldering ash.
Only seconds had passed, and the aureate gaze blinked away the thoughtless moment, and a waring wave of her fist caused the sneaking Witch that pranced close, to back off with a smug grin and lax twist.
"...You look slightly less obnoxious."
At the woman's dismissive answer wrought with narrowed eyes and a cold look, Sarid wearily shrugged with an uncaringly dry chuckle, as they finally turned away from the barrage of unique compliments.
And, right back into discussing when he could die. How lovely.
Humming in thought aside, their Samurai rubbed his chin as a lone ochre eye rove over the still deadpan half-malak atop the valley path. "So... he'll live a bit longer than most humans, but still isn't immortal."
"...I'm not in an exhibit..."
Quiet to the corner of the conversing group, was Velvet, sparing minute glances to this discussion. "Not immortal..." the daemoness muttered - almost sorrowful - as she glared into her own writhing skin beneath bandages.
"I've never had to bother with stuff like that!" Rokurou added with a smirk, pumping his chest outwards. "Us daemons only grow physically until we've reached our bodily peak! But, we don't age anymore." Unsheathing a blade to the wry glint of the celestial body above, the man's gaze grew dim with sincerity. "Even if my body has grown to its best, I'll never stop training. There's always new moves to learn."
"Always goes back to fighting with you..."
A sudden hum of understanding - low and quiet - reverberated from the one cloaked in white underneath this fur cape. Lavender unwittingly lazing to the daemoness contrastingly veiled, the blank pupils flickered downwards from the gilded gaze for a moment. The image of a particularly tight, ripped and strained crimson corset plastered itself in his mind. "Ah... That's why-" he stopped. The smothering cloak twirled with Sarid's abrupt spin, facing away from the silent group.
Eyes trained at the half-malak's back, a trio of smirks curving in the steady rising tension: bolstered by a lowered posture of shame and a steely glare of death.
"Sarid..." came the bitter snarl, "You've gotten way too bold for my liking."
"...You need new clothes."
The Lord of Calamity's sneer of contempt - accented by a twitching brow and cheeks faintly dusted scarlet - bore into the escaping plod of the half-breed's drained figure. Finger and thumb pressing into closed eyes, the man released a despairing sigh etched by the dregs of a smile during his isolated trudge.
"What the actual hell, are you thinking..." Sarid dryly scolded himself, the overbearing weight of his recent life-choices bringing the half-breed to a mental cascade of emotion.
A prickly chill ran up his back, and it was apparent that the passing breeze was not at fault.
Wordlessly noting the cacophony of familiar steps soon aligning with his flank after the wordless threat, and the dark figure sweeping forward to the group's bow, they traversed the ends of this ghostly valley. Soon-to-be under the revered shadow of the great Empyrean's Throne: resting place of Shepherd Artorias Collbrande.
...But first, the once peaceful road leading to this great temple, would be hounded by the repetitious bickering of a traversing menagerie of misfits.