Khellendrosiic

OOC: *sigh* *edits*

"Gonna have to do better than that!" roared Combat Toy as the smoke from the missile launch and resulting explosions cleared, revealing the scars and slight cracking of the armor across CT's chest. While annoying, the damage was nowhere near enough to take the upgraded assault bot down.

The sudden self-destruct might be, though. Right at ground zero, Combat Toy was knocked backwards a good fifteen feet, did a backflip in midair, and hit the ground with a horrible screech of metal grinding against rock. Various systems shorted out in the sudden detonation, Combat Toy lay on the ground attempting to get its bearings back. It was effectively down and out for the next half minute or so.

Solid Shot was quite annoyed when the assault bot violently exploded, the blast wave almost swatting him out of the air. Thankfully he was able to regain his bearings quickly enough and noticed Acid chasing after the pair of battle drones.

"Coming in on your six!" the security droid shouted to the mastermind as he dove down and tried to hammer one of the drones with a slug to the back of the knee. Acid was in no danger of being hit, though Solid would be forced to slow down his flight in order to get an accurate shot in.

"Order: Recieved: Acting," replied Cher'Tak as the Warmaster expertly swung the dropship up and about to take position over the open air dome. A press of a button activated the dropship's belly turrets and a psychic command keyed in the correct IFF codes for his allies.

"Ah hell," muttered Toy Dispenser as he started floating along the outside of the tower, trying to keep the running drones within range of his jamming. It was a bit of a stretch, but he could keep both drones under the blanket of his interference while still messing with whoever else might be in the original tower.

--------------------------------

"She is Hequat," said Archlich quietly enough that he could barely be heard. "She was... is the goddess of my people and favored student of Tielekku."

Slowly rising to his feet, Archlich started walking down the rows of pillars and statues, seemingly ignoring Rosie and her crew for the moment.

Balsk cast a worried look at Rosie. The guy they had come for looked to be seriously unhinged, not to mention undead. Balsk had generally found that insane undead mages with religion were big trouble but he'd follow Rosie's lead until the lich started something.

"My make up is somewhat more... unique," Toy said after Ryatt99 had finished speaking. "While I'm sure someone could replicate my powers given enough time and effort I would prefer to retain my uniqueness as long as possible."

"Unique shmunique," snorted Solid as he started fiddling with his assault rifle. "When you're completely identical to an entire boat full of droids you learn that it isn't what's in you that makes you special, it's what's up here."

Solid rapped his head with a knuckle before he ejected the magazine from his rifle and started sliding the bullets out one by one. After he had pulled out all thirty he started putting them back in in a different order.

"I already know my mind is unique," replied Toy as he leaned forward, placed his elbow on his knee, and then rested his chin on it. "I've spent most of my short life trying to find another sentient mechanoid that gained their identity in the same fashion that I have and have yet to find a match. Which, in some ways, is more than humans can say.

"No offense intended," he added to the various humans in the car.

"Which actually brings me to a question that I've been meaning to ask since I met you," continued Toy to Ryatt. "You see, I make it something of a hobby to learn how other androids gained their sentience, their ability to declare 'I think therefore I am'. So, Ryatt99, would you consider yourself sentient? And if so, do you mind my asking of how you came to be this way?"

"Heh, he popped the question," muttered Solid to himself in amusement.

OOC: .......I completely forgot about Archlich. Errrr..... <_< Let's correct that.

BIC: "So this is what it feels to walk where gods once trod," said Archlich in a reverent tone as he stepped out of the portal and took several slow steps into the cavern that stretched before him.

Immeasurably large, the ceiling of the cavern reached up into infinity, defying Archlich's ability to identify where it ended. All around him were gargantuan stalagmites carved with arcane glyphs and records of past deeds. Some of the rock formations had been carved into elaborate statues of the various gods that must have called this place home. Most of the gods were human-shaped while a few combined animal characteristics with that of humanity.

Slowly walking forward, Archlich didn't notice the sudden shiver that went through his portal; he was much too absorbed in this discovery to pay attention to such unimportant things.

The statue of the goddess of magic was easy enough to find even though her form in this alien world differed slightly from what Archlich remembered her to be. A beautiful women clad in robes of the richest red, her sharp, aristocratic face split in a wide smile with one hand forming the simplest of arcane gestures and the other holding an open tome of magic.

Most of the color was gone, washed away by the passage of time, but Archlich could almost completely remember what it would have looked like. Almost, but not quite.

With a shuddering sigh, Archlich kneeled on the ground before the statue of Hequat and it was thus that Rosie, Balsk, and Thermoplast found him with his cape puddled around him and his skull pressed against the base of the statue.

"I don't think he's in the mood to talk, boss," muttered Balsk out of the corner of his mouth as he stepped out of the portal.

OOC: Archlich has emotions? GASP.

Tossing a quick wave at Corey and Ryatt, Solid dove off the edge and zoomed over to the fight. He arrived just in time for Ineffable to relocate the assault bot.

"Nice catch!" Solid shouted at the brute as he threw his free hand forward, little tendrils of electricity shooting out and wrapping around the assault bot's feet, trapping it on the ground no matter how hard it pushed it's thrusters.

"I call the fascimile!" Combat Toy suddenly shouted as it came barreling out of the portal, dodging to one side of Acid and Sah'Teece and ramming its shoulder into the trapped assault bot.

With one hand Combat Toy grabbed the assault bot's right arm and shoved it down and away so the plasma cannon couldn't hit anything. With its right hand CT grabbed the left cannon at the elbow and violently ejected its wrist sword. The sword carved through the assault bot's elbow and severed the plasma emitter from the rest of the fire. In a final coup de grace, CT angled its torso upward and then fired both plasma cannons in the assault bot's face.

Cher'Tak made a much less spectacular entrance, stepping out of the portal and lowering his bladerifle at the fleeing TacOps. Taking half a second to aim, the Warmaster put an expertly placed shot right between the man's shoulder blades.

Toy, meanwhile, continued leaning against the tower wall and wondered why he heard two explosions.

"Embarrassment?" Toy echoed. "Maybe. Revealing one's insides to the world would certainly make a human feel a bit quesy and as far as I can tell I've got the same emotional content as that erstwhile species."

Chuckling a little bit to himself as he leaned back in his seat, Toy continued. "But no, I think the main reason is the amount of technology I've got packed in here. I keep the secrets of my construction very close to my chest. You seem to be under no compunction however. Why so?"

"My ops have always been hit-and-run, blow [censored] to hell things by preference," said Toy after a few minutes. "If we're really going to be lying low, I'll defer to the professionals. That said, I should probably change clothes too."

That said, Toy got up and moved back to the rear of the train among his bots. Combat Toy stepped in front of the group to block them all from casual observation and then a low humming seemed to emanate from the group. If anyone was able to see Toy at this moment, they'd see his ever present aura of electricity intensifying as it always did in periods of strenuous activity and his armor flipping around and shifting about like one would have seen in the Transformers movie.

At the same time that Toy was morphing his armor, his bots were also undergoing a few cosmetic changes, mostly involving their coloring shifting to pitch black with dark red streaks across their chests and legs to the accompanyment of the same red electricity that was crackling across Toy at the very moment. A few spikes also jutted out of their armor, mostly at the shoulders and wrists, though those drones with hands got a few nasty looking spikes on their knuckles as well.

"I love this disguise," chuckled Combat Toy as it pounded one fist to it's chest before stepping back and letting Toy Dispenser return to his seat.

Toy now looked like a much darker and more evil version of himself. Instead of the bright primary colors of his normal costume he was instead painted in a black and red scheme similair to what was on his bots. His shoulder pads were more rounded with sharp red spikes jutting from them and the flanges on his wrists were smoothed out so as not to be visible unless one peeked under the black sheath of metal they were hiding under.

"Paranoia much?" said Solid Shot as Toy moved to retake his seat.

"Paranoia nothing," Toy said as he sat back down. "This actually works. If there's nothing else I learned in the Isles it's that ninety percent of everything evil dresses in black and dark red. I've been able to get ahold of interviews with the survivors of missions I've done in this outfit and the best they had do to describe me is 'some dark villain type with a bunch of black robots.' Cliches are rooted in fact, after all."

Solid sighed in mock disgust but said nothing else.

"Would have been nice to give me a little warning," Toy Dispenser muttered as he hit the anti-grav and zipped through the air toward the Maltan tower.

Leaning in midair up against the stone of the tower and out of sight of the Maltan agents or other robots, Toy locked in on the frequencies the Maltans were using for communication and flooded them with a high pitched tone sure to give a normal person a headache in short order. While short-ranged, his interference would affect anything transmitting into and out of Toy's range that Toy didn't specifically state as being safe.

****************************************

"Ah subtlety, how I dislike thee," Solid said to himself as his LRM made a 'pff' sound as it left the barrel of his gun.

The missile seemed to lazily drift through the air towards the Maltans until Grey landed amongst them. Surprise gone, Solid shot a blip of code at the missile which ignited its rocket and sent the thing hurtling into the trio of Maltan Group soldiers. The explosion would certainly be noticable if the heavy thump Grey had made upon landing wasn't clue enough.

Cher'tak had smoothly accepted control of the dropship from Sah'Teece and brought the ship in low enough so that the group was standing at the upper threshold of the dropship's portal range.

As it was, a Rikti portal burst into life in front of the group and Cher'tak motioned for everyone to hurry in.

"Entrance portal: Limited time: Move quickly," said Cher'tak as he drew his bladerifle and tapped it against the ground. "Supporting troops: Remain: Eliminate Sappers. All others: Board: Posthaste."

"Don't have to tell us twice," said Combat Toy as the assault bot stomped through the portal onto the Rikti ship. Toy's other bots went through just as quickly.

"I'll help Grey hold off the swarm of baddies that'll show up any second," said Solid as the rockets on either side of his boots lit up. "I'm sure the rest of you can handle whatever's in there without me."

Kicking off and leaping over the side, Solid fell a good ten feet before he spun around and shot straight up into the air, maneuvering to get a good view of the bridge and the tower that the Maltans were on and in.

***********************************************

The sound of a large pair of beating wings steadily approached Thermoplast and the dog from up high. Neither of them really needed to look up to see how it was, as the winged figure suddenly stopped beating the air and landed with a thump in a crouch right in front of the pair.

"Aiming to trick someone out of a donut again?" asked Balsk, resident bronze-scaled draconian and current beat cop of the Soul Police Chapter of the border collie.

The dragonman nodded politely at Thermoplast before continuing to address the dog.

"So, there a specific reason you called me out here? Bit beyond my 'Security Level'," Balsk said with the addition of a pair of air quotes. "But if Portal Corp does what it's name suggests, I guess I'm the right man for the job."

The draconian shrugged and flexed his wings, jostling the extra-long broadsword sheathed at his side. It and the belt keeping the sheath around his waist seemed to be the only stitch of clothing that Balsk was wearing but considering his reptilian nature he probably didn't really need clothes. The was also the whole problem of getting a tail into pants that Balsk fervently wished to avoid as much as possible.

"Don't need men if I've already got my drones in position," Toy said flippantly as he faced Drechi while walking backward toward the train. "They should be infiltrating the compound shortly if my transmissions are accurate."

"Which they are," remarked Solid Shot with a sarcastic tone of voice and roll of his head. "Combat efficient your [censored] may not be, but I haven't fought anything else with the same C&C capability you've got going."

Toy Dispenser cocked his head in response to Solid's comment and paused just before he stepped onto the train.

"Whoever said I'd deployed the combat specced drones before?" he said as he spun around and walked onto the train.

Solid Shot froze in midstep to consider this information and one could almost hear the gears in his head turning. Eventually shrugging, the rogue security droid boarded the train as well and grabbed a seat near to the door.

Toy Dispenser sat down near the front of the car while his drones filed in and tried to take up as little space at the back of the car as they could.

********************************************

Even as Toy Dispenser verbally flicked Drechi's men off, the two Stickmen scout drones were approaching the compound's position. Next to impossible to detect, the Stickmen would have the unusual leisure of being able to take their time to infiltrate and slip inside unnoticed. Once inside, however, the real time limit would begin as they raced to identify as much of the facility as possible before they had to escape, relay the information, and run as far as possible before self-destructing.

OOC: I love that phrase. I am using it so much these days.

BIC: "Oh... Him..." said Toy Dispenser as he cast back through his memory databanks. "Heh, can't believe I forgot about that [censored]. He's just about the only non-Destined One to use Arachnos approved combat drone designs."

"Which just adds to his nuttiness," muttered Mini Bot. "Like seriously, the boss and we only fought him once but the guy was a TOTAL nutcase. He had more nuts than the nuttiest Nutter Bar or the most peanutty of peanut butters or-!"

"Shut it, pip squeak," said Combat Toy as it thumped a fist on Mini Bot's head.

"In any respect, I can do the jamming," Toy said after Mini Bot was done talking. "The only problem is I'll have to get a lot closer and I won't be in communication during that time. I generally only use this function when I'm taking down a military base and I only need to communicate with my bots. But it's worked a good 95% of the time."

"I remember this one US Colonel screaming into his walkie talkie as we came in through the cei-," said Mini Bot just before it was cut off by a dual thump from both Large Toy and Combat Toy.

Rubbing its head, Mini Bot slumped off and sulked at the back of the group.

"Oddity, Attitude: Toy Dispenser's minions: Continually: Boggle: Mind," said Cher'tak as he watched this display in amusement. "Regards: Current situation: Jam: Maltan systems: Supported. Addendum: Utilize dropship: Aerial, Teleport: Assault."

"If you want me to shoot the bad guys you better let me know soon," Solid interjected. "It'll take a few seconds for my missile to hit them while flying silent and they're going to be in cover pretty soon."

"By 'flying silent', Solid Shot means that the missile will only accelerate to killing velocities just before impact," stated Toy Bot to whoever was listening. "Previous demonstrations of such a tactic have proven that the missile is generally not seen until detonation."

********************************************

Right about now the Paragon Police Department station in Peregrine Isle would be receiving an anonymous tip regarding a stealthed Arachnos Flyer that had breached Paragon City's perimeter and had landed on one of the island's beaches. The exact coordinates of the landing weren't supplied, but the search area was narrow and the various photos that accompanied the tip would be enough to get a rapid response team of Police Drones and a few Kheldian officers to search the area.

"How the hell did they find out about that?" muttered the exceedingly pale police chief to himself as he tore up and deleted several photos showing himself in various comprimising positions with several Carnies, not all of whom were women.

Up in orbit, Toy Dispenser's manufactory returned to passive sensors once more. Knowing that there was quite a bit of other life out among the stars, the mastermind had placed more than a few types of sensors on his satellite that aimed out into space. But despite having the best technology that money could buy installed on it, it was still sheer luck that the manufactory had detected the approaching ship.

Standard procedure in this case was to alert Toy Dispenser ASAP. But since Toy was unavaliable the manufactory could do nothing but wait to see what the alien vessel did. And since the ship chose to land literally right on top of Toy's operational area, the AI of the satellite classified the ship as a threat and did what was neccessary to neutralize it.

Hopefully it did the right thing and Toy wouldn't be too mad at this presumptuous display of initiative when he got back.

***********************************************

"LET THE GATEWAY TO THE NEXT WORLD BE OPEN ONCE AGAIN!" bellowed Archlich to the airlessness of the void before him.

With a sudden crack that was not so much heard as felt in one's soul, a portal opened before Archlich. Roughly circular in shape, the portal was rimmed in brilliant blue energies and its center was blacker than the depths of starless space. The energies released during this event scoured the various wards around Archlich's camp to nothingness and radiated enough energy that the dormant warship could pick it up, as well as anything else within that same range.

But Archlich cared not for discovery. At this point he almost didn't give a damn if he himself died because of this.

Archlich was going to stride amongst the remains of gods and the rest of the multiverse could go hang itself for all he cared about it right now.

Walking through the portal cause it to shrink down to an infinitily small dot of energy. The portal was now fully active on the other side and would remain in such an undectable state until Archlich deigned to venture back through it to the mortal realm.

OOC: Now that's thinking with portals!

"That's not good," said both Toy Dispenser and Solid Shot at the same time as they both saw what had caught Acid's attention.

Solid shot Toy an annoyed glance but the mastermind was too busy tracking the Malta operatives to notice. After Acid talked out loud, Toy zipped along the bridge and spotted the assault bot pictured in the reflextive pane as well.

"Two Op Engineers and a TacOps Commander," Toy Bot said for the benefit of the others that couldn't see clearly what the two androids and Acid were looking at. "It appears that we also have the Malta to worry about on this mission."

"And maybe a captive metahuman too," added Solid as he finally got to that part of the tower. "There's one of those big assault bot type dealies that the mastermind villain types love so dearly. I've always wondered about that, you know. Did you guys buy all your robots from the same Evil Mart?"

"Lord Recluse has an odd rule regarding henchmen," responded Toy as he stepped back from the edge. "They all have to conform to a certain standard. If they don't, then nobody will have anything to do with you. It's really weird but I suppose you don't get that powerful and evil without losing a few screws on the way."

"Whatever," Solid shot back as he lifted up his rifle and took aim at the three Maltans. "I have a clear shot with my LRM at the three of em. If we want the [censored] dead, I can send them off the edge."

"Not all of us have access to extra-solar technology," Toy Dispenser said in response to Experiment's question. "Nor some of the morals that might get in the way of applying said technology."

"I think you just need the former," Solid said. "Messing with the second generally gets you in trouble."

"People didn't object much to Block Bot," Mini Bot added. "And he was made with the-"

The chipper little drone was cut off as the aforementioned robot bonked Mini Bot on the head.

A few of my characters have taken off on their own from how I originally created them. The two you all would be familiar with would be Brutish Ghoul and Solid Shot.

Solid was my first successful hero after the debacle that was my fire/fire tanker. He started out as a grim, somewhat emotionless android who had only come to Paragon City because of a glitch in his programming during a relatively normal upgrade. The glitch in his WinBot 2000 was the beginning of the humor that would slowly creep in and take Solid over around the time I started posting on the board and met Essex and Hal.

Almost overnight the grim security bot became an almost agressively funny droid who had come to be what he was through a series of amusing, almost laughable incidents. The glitch during upgrading his WinBot OS stuck around but was added onto by a personality program written by a Korean prodigy which has contributed endless lulz. Then came the realization of how his electricity manipulation powers were actually from modified Rikti tech and how that single realization enabled me to construct almost all of his life before he came to Paragon.

From being simply the best character to play around in CoH with, Solid became an extension of the more sarcastic and sociable side of my personality. He's mirrored by Toy Dispenser, who seems to be mostly influenced by the logical and anti-social side, though both androids have their moments in the other extreme. It was very interesting to see how that came about.

And then there's Brutish Ghoul.

Originally created by my little brother as his first brute, Ghoul was named because my brother always took the name Noxious Ghoul as his user ID. Brutish came about when I suggested a suitable adjective for a brute named Ghoul. My brother left Brutish Ghoul behind when he reached level 30 and left for WoW. I took over the character and gifted him with a very stereotypical personality. He was little smarter than his name suggested and loved to fight simply for the sake of fighting.

Somewhere along the way I got it into my head that Ghoul wasn't actually undead. I attribute this to the time in Final Fight when Ghoul was 'killed' and for some reason I had him collapse into a pile of black ooze that tried to eat everything around it. As with most of my characters, serious development happened as I started trying to figure out why that had happened, why Ghoul was like he is, and why he seemed undead but isn't.

Along the way he got smarter, I learned he fought because it was how he gained sustenance, and why his powers worked the way he did. Out of all of him, I think it was the odd combination of Dark Melee and Invulnerability that made my mind really churn with ideas. One of these days I'll have to thank my brother for giving him those power sets.

Then there's also Balsk and Toy's bots, but I think I'll save those for later.

OOC: Stop making the thread go "BRRZZZZT", DV. D:<

I hate Hardcase as much as the next guy, but I have to think that he wouldn't talk the talk if he couldn't walk the walk.

And I had originally intended Netharak to wipe the floor with Hardcase. But you know how these things just seem to get a life of their own.

Of yeah. Just as the first story was inspired by that song, this new one was inspired by everyone's favorite Spartan King. It is entirely coincidental that Hardcase was as black as the Persian messenger.

OOC: Reposted for the lulz.

BIC: [u]The Demon's Prayer[u]

“Amen.”

With the conclusion of the service, most of the worshippers hastily left out of the front and back doors to the small church. While Arachnos troops hadn’t performed a raid in the last month one could never be too sure how Lord Recluse’s mood could change. A firm believer in the superiority of science over all things, Lord Recluse was the closest one could get to being a Scientologist without being a member of that cult. As such, Recluse generally disapproved of people openly practicing religion in the Rogue Isles but didn’t do much about it. The worst that could happen would be a party of Wolf or Crab Spiders interrupting mid-service to arrest the preacher and random members of the attendees. They were usually released from the holding cells within a few days with no harm done but occasionally some people who were taken never came back. But that was fairly standard for the Isles. That said, however, no one wanted to take the risk and so the church emptied quickly enough, leaving behind the head priest, a heavily cloaked individual in the middle pews, and a small family that was discussing plans for a wedding with the priest.

“Of course I would be willing to administer your vows, Sharon,” said the priest, a kindly old man who managed to keep in good shape despite his years. His white, almost bleached hair, was pulled back in a pony tail that went down to his shoulders and he wore a small pair of spectacles that he needed to read. He wore a simple black robe with a silver cross hanging from a chain around his neck. The cross was tarnished slightly from age but was obviously lovingly cared for.

“Thank you so much, Father,” bubbled the portly blonde woman as she hugged the taller man at her side tightly. “Dan and I are so very honored that you’ll do this for us. I mean, a man of your cali-“

“Please, please,” replied Father Darron with an indulgent smile. “I am no more capable than any other man of the cloth. Now why don’t you two run along while I close up? Duty calls and all that.”

“God bless you, Father,” said Sharon one last time before she literally dragged her fiancé out of the doors. The man managed to exchange wry grins with the priest before he vanished through the door.

The last members of his congregation gone, Darron glanced at the large, hunched form still sitting in the middle of the church. He didn’t recognize the person from his previous sermons but he did count more than a few ‘Destined Ones’ among his flock and it wouldn’t be right for him to pressure the other man to leave just yet. After all, part of the reason why he was in the Rogue Isles was to redeem those that others thought beyond redemption. It did bother the priest slightly that the villain hadn’t revealed his face, but aside from a vague feeling of unease that persisted as he went about cleaning up the inevitable detritus of the day he paid the other man no mind. He made sure to leave the row of pews that the stranger was in for last and was rewarded for his patience when the man got to his feet about ten minutes after the service had ended and walked up the aisle toward the lectern where Father Darron was counting up today’s donations.

“Greetings, my child,” said the priest as he looked up into the lowered hood of the stranger. Apparently the villain knew some form of magic as the shadows within the hood were impenetrable to the priest’s eyes. “Do you need something from me?”

“Yes, actually,” came a growl from under the hood. Something about the man’s voice caused the sense of unease Father Darron had felt before to return full force. Keeping a smile on his face, the priest none-the-less lowered his hand toward something he kept nearby for just such a reason.

“I confess that I am somewhat confused by your religion,” continued the large man in the same growling tone. “Or at least how so many mortals can be duped into following it.”

“They are none of them ‘duped’,” answered Father Darron as his eyes narrowed slightly. “And while most of them may not be true believers they at least all share the same desire – the same comfort – of believing in God and His salvation.”

“And that is the part I do not get,” replied the villain as he crossed his arms to the accompaniment of a metallic rasp. Father Darron’s eyes narrowed a bit more in response. “How could they believe in something that doesn’t exist?”

“That is why they have faith, my friend. Now I’m going to have to ask you to leave now. I was too polite to say so beforehand but the church has closed for the day. I have urgent business elsewhere that needs attending too.”

“I believe the business you have right here is quite important enough, Father,” said the man, almost spitting out that last word. “Especially since this business shall be your last act.”

“I do not take kindly to threats, young man,” replied Father Darron with steel in his voice. “I am quite capable of protecting myself should you try to harm me.”

“Harm you?” asked the man with what seemed to be a laugh. “I am not here to harm you. I am here to kill you.”

With a sound like the exhalation of a long held breath, the stranger’s cloak dissolved into wisps of black mist that were sucked into the dull orange runes that dotted the blood red armor that was revealed. A similarly colored cape with odd looking characters picked out in orange lightly brushed the floor. But although the runes were distressing, what with their alarming tendency to shift slightly while Darron looked at them, the most worrisome thing was the wolf-like head with it’s wide grinning mouth full of teeth and burning green eyes. Literally burning, in fact; a small part of Father Darron’s mind wondered just how this thing could see with flames covering its eyes. But then the priest snapped out of his shock and smoothly drew a gleaming silver sword from its hidden sheath in the lectern.

“Demon,” Father Darron spat out, the reason for his uneasy feeling finally dawning on him. There was a demon right here in the middle of his church and standing not two feet from him. Another small part of his mind rebuked the rest of it for screwing up so badly. “How is it possible for one such as you to enter this place?”

“Straight to the point, eh mortal?” replied the demon with an even wider grin. It seemed to show no concern that the priest was now armed with a weapon that he clearly knew how to use. The arrogance of demons had always been their greatest flaw, one that Father Darron took continual advantage of. “And here I was thinking a great demon slayer like yourself had seen everything there was.”

“I’m more experienced than you might think, beast,” said Father Darron as he backed away from the lectern, sword and Bible in hand now. “Though I admit that I had not expected a demon powerful enough to tread on this holy ground to blatantly challenge me in God’s house.”

“You have not seen a demon like I before, Father,” replied the creature as it casually batted the lectern away, sending the thick oaken stand crashing into the wall. “I am Lord Netharak, Doom Lord of the Burning Legion and exempt from the pathetic bindings that limit the otherworldly forces of this world. I spit upon your god and laugh at the mere thought that his disciple can challenge a chosen of Sargeras!”

“A demon is a demon,” shot back Father Darron as he flipped the Bible open with one hand and showed it to Lord Netharak. “Now be purged by God’s holy word!”

Brilliant light shone from the pages of the Bible as though the sun itself was shining through them. The beams of light played over the entire church before narrowing their focus and burning into and through the foolish demon, disintegrating his body into ash and casting his treacherous soul back to whatever pits it had come from.

“It that the best you’ve got?” Lord Netharak laughed as he emerged from the beam of light, one arm held up to shield his eyes from the brightness. “I hardly think some singed hair was what you were aiming for with that light bulb of yours.”

Father Darron gaped as the demon as the Bible shut on its own accord, cutting off the last beams of light and returning the room to its former level of light, which seemed almost like twilight in comparison now. But the demon slaying priest recovered quickly enough and scowled deeply at Netharak.

“Whatever vile trickery Satan has given you this day will not be enough to deter God’s vengeance, beast,” spat out the old man as he lifted his sword toward the heavens, tip almost poking the ceiling of the small church. “By the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost you shall be cleansed from this place of worship!”

*-*-*

It had been a fairly gloomy Sunday in the Rogue Isles so far. The news had said there would be rain throughout the whole day but it had never shown up, leaving heavy cloud cover hanging in the sky for the whole day. Things didn’t look like they’d clear up any time soon, so the people of the Rogue Isles prepared for a drearier than usual Monday.

The ray of sunshine that suddenly burst through the clouds and illuminated a section of Cap au Diable for a brief few seconds went unseen by the vast majority of the populace. The ones that had seen this odd phenomenon wondered what kind of hero or villain had done it before going about the rest of the day in an oddly cheerful mood.

*-*-*

The results of this ray of light in the confined area of the church was a bit more spectacular, forcing Lord Netharak to shield his eyes once again and curse the annoying habit of holy men to render his shadows all but useless. But when the light dimmed and Netharak saw that the sword Father Darron was holding was now on fire, the demon figured that maybe he didn’t need his shadows for this fight.

“I can do that too,” Netharak growled as a scimitar of pure green felfire sprung into being in his right hand. “Now, I think you said something about cle-“

Netharak’s taunt was cut off as Father Darron lunged forward at a speed the priest had never before shown to possess. The demon was barely able to deflect the first blow and had to resort to summoning up a second sword to keep his defenses from being penetrated. The fury the priest was displaying had caught the demon by surprise though he really should have been expecting it; humans always had the most distressing tendency toward fanaticism, yet another reason why he couldn’t wait to burn this entire diseased planet to cinders.

“Is that all you have, mortal?” taunted Netharak as he steadily retreated, beating back blow after furious blow with his swords and unable to get a single strike in retaliation. “Should I not be dead by now? Struck down by your god for my temerity, my insolence? Should you not be fighting harder, mortal? Stop fooling around and really come at me!”

At Lord Netharak talked, he began stepping up the power of his blocks until Father Darron’s sword was bouncing back more often than it was slashing in for an attack. This allowed Netharak to begin his own offensive, unleashing an onslaught of attacks that demolished the insides of the church. Lord Netharak didn’t seem to care how often he missed or how often he hit a pew instead of Father Darron. The fires of the demon’s eyes burned ever brighter as he entered a fighting rage that would soon see the entire building destroyed in a fiery cataclysm. Father Darron could see this and summoned up a brilliant burst of light that blinded the demon for a crucial second or two, allowing him to retreat out the back door.

Roaring in anger, Lord Netharak followed, bursting through the doors and smashing them to flinders in his rage. Now in an alleyway, Netharak looked up along a fire escape to see the priest climbing the last few feet up onto the room of the adjacent building.

“Running so soon?” Lord Netharak roared as he tensed his legs and then launched himself up into the air, landing with a small explosion of dust on the edge of the roof. “I thought you priests had righteousness on your side. Why run, then?”

“This is a bit more dramatic, don’t you think?” Father Darron replied, the bad joke making him feel a bit better. In all his long years he had never fought a demon that so easily ignored the effects of his holy blade. Made of blessed Damascus steel, cleansed in holy water, and inlaid with the Lord’s Prayer in silver on the hilt, Father Darron’s Avenger had never failed him before. The fact that it was doing so now seemed to lend credence to the demon’s story. And if this demon really wasn’t from Hell, then how could he be fought?

“Having second thoughts?” Lord Netharak asked with a snort as though reading Father Darron’s mind. “Maybe you should just give up then, accept your death like a good little martyr. I promise to make it quick and relatively painless.”

“I’ll never surrender to your kind,” Father Darron quickly replied. “Though I may die this day my soul shall ascend to Heaven and become one with God. That is the most I can ask for and the best fate I can wish for.”

“Then allow me to speed you on your way!” shouted Netharak as he charged, heavy tread pounding against the roof and swords held extended out to either side.

Darron stood fast as the demon charged; holding his sword before his face as he calmly read the prayer written on its hilt from memory. Once Lord Netharak got close enough, Darron sprung through the air in a perfect front flip, lashing out with his sword as he passed over Netharak’s back. Landing in a crouch, Darron quickly jumped up and spun back around still chanting his prayer.

“That hurt,” growled the demon as black blood slowly seeped from a moderate gash on the back of his head. “Although I’m sure it would have slain one of the lesser breed.”

Giving Father Darron no time to reply, Lord Netharak charged again and this time they clashed once more. Flaming steel met solid green fire in a deadly dance that would have seen lesser men cut into chunks with their souls destroyed and lesser demons quickly cleaved and banished back to the darkest pits of Hell. But Lord Netharak was no earthly demon and the holy strength Father Darron was bringing to bear did not daunt the Doom Lord, rather it gave the demon an idea.

“Our Father, which art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name, they kingdom come, thy will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven,” recited the demon in a deep voice, toothy grin returning. “And forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.”

“Blasphemy!” Father Darron shouted, enraged beyond all measure, the fact that this demon was reciting the word of God was just too much. This bastion of contempt and arrogance, of blasphemy and evil screamed to be wiped from the face of the earth and obliterated from human memory.

“Give us this day our daily bread and forgive our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us,” continued the demon, defiling the words as he spoke them. “And lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil, for thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory! Forever and ever, amen!”

Father Darron let loose an incoherent scream of anger and hatred as he threw everything he had into the fight, the Bible he was holding shining brightly in response to his holy anger. Such a righteous anger filled him that he didn’t even notice when Lord Netharak had lopped off both of his arms. Just as Lord Netharak had planned, the priest had been so consumed with anger and hatred at this unexpected and unconsidered blasphemy that he had thrown caution to the winds, giving the demon just the edge he had needed to end the fight. Just as the realization that he had lost blossomed in Father Darron’s mind, the demon smoothly scooped up the dropped sword and impaled the priest upon it.

“E nomine patris et fili et spiritus sancti!” Netharak shouted triumphantly as he lifted the sword up into the air, tip facing the cloud covered heavens. Netharak stared into the priest’s eyes as the man died and licked some of the blood that was flowing down the sword.

Lord Netharak roared as he channeled his own fire through the sword, wreathing the entire thing in sickly green flames that swiftly devoured the corpse stuck upon it and started melting the sword like a candle. He said only one thing to speed the priest’s doomed soul down to Hell.

“Amen!”

OOC: Every post is a repost, etc etc.

[u]A Hard Case[u]

“You dare to threaten me!?” shouted an enraged voice that echoed off the walls of the small apartment complex just outside the Arachnos fort in St. Martial.

What followed was a noise akin to a metal-shod battering ram slamming full force into the chest of some unfortunate animal and then a loud crack as said animal careened into a brick wall. It was a very squishy noise and one that generally meant someone was very, very dead. But the wet cough that broke the silence that had briefly fallen shattered that illusion.

“Still alive?” asked Lord Netharak rhetorically as he looked down at the trench-coated, dark-skinned man.

“[censored] you,” growled Hardcase as he slumped to the ground, giving Netharak the finger along the way.

“Such harsh words,” the demon said as he stomped over to the wounded man and planted his foot in the man’s chest, pressing him painfully up against the wall. Hardcase hissed in pain and glared up at Netharak, the sheer hate in those brown eyes momentarily causing Netharak to let up for a second. Snarling to himself at the brief moment of weakness, the demon removed his foot to grab Hardcase by the neck and hoist him into the air.

“One would almost think you have the nerve, or the power, to back them up,” said Lord Netharak, hatred heavy in his voice. “But so far you have demonstrated only the former and too little of the latter. It leads me to question why I have deigned to work with you in the first place, little man.”

“Your kind never could understand these things,” Hardcase spat back, seemingly undaunted by the fact that the demon could snap his neck at any moment. “You know what the chaos will do to St. Martial. It’ll destabilize everything that I’ve worked so hard for.”

“And why should I care about what will be destroyed?” Netharak replied, speaking slowly so that even an infant could comprehend what he was saying. “I crave destruction. I desire death. I want chaos. The fact that that half-witted woman gave me the means to create this event does not matter in the slightest. She is a tool, nothing more. The only thing that I do not desire at this moment is the foolish threats that you have leveled at me.”

“What I say is the truth,” Hardcase said, regaining his regular calm. It seemed almost as though being lifted two feet off the ground by an angry demon was a normal thing for him. “Everyone knows that you’ve been working for Verandi. All it’ll take is my word and Arachnos will be on you like white on rice. That is if I don’t just mop the floor with you first and bind you into taking care of business for me.”

Lord Netharak barked out a laugh right in Hardcase’s face, spattering the man’s face with spittle that hissed and steamed when exposed to the air.

“You say Arachnos will destroy me. I say let them come. I have dealt with them before and shall continue to do so well into the future,” said the demon incredulously. “You say that you can stop me? That you can defeat me? I call, as you mortals so quaintly put it, [censored].”

“Alright then,” Hardcase said, one corner of his mouth twitching up into a smirk. “I guess I’ll have to show you what I can do.”

With a faint popping noise, Hardcase was suddenly ten feet away with his habitual sunglasses still perched on his nose and with no indication of having been punted into a wall just a minute ago. The demon-slayer grinned wider at Lord Netharak’s dumbfounded expression.

“I told you before, demon,” Hardcase said as a palpable aura of power built up around him. “I’m really good at taking down your kind. It’s just that acting as a contact between Arachnos and you ‘Destined Ones’ pays a lot better and lets me kill even more of your kind than if I acted on my own. Sure it’s been a little while since I’ve fought for myself, but I’m more than good enough to take you down a peg, ‘Lord’ Netharak.”

“Your arrogance will be your downfall, mortal,” shot back the demon as a wave of shadows washed up his body, clinging tightly to his armor and causing him to fade slightly into the background. Twin swords of fire blazed to life in each hand as the demon waited for Hardcase to attack.

“And your ignorance will be yours, demon,” replied the demon-slayer calmly as he pulled a sword and pistol out from under his coat. Both weapons were heavily inscribed in a language unfamiliar to the demon and bits of paper fluttered limply from where they were affixed to the barrel of the gun. Muttering something under his breath, Hardcase lifted up his pistol and fired a brilliant beam of light right at Netharak.

The demon grunted as the light shot burned right through his protective shadows and scored a shallow gouge in his armor. The damage was negligible but the gesture was clear. Roaring in anger, Lord Netharak bounded into the air and came down with a great crash where Hardcase had been a moment ago. But the slayer had literally danced out of the way, coattails swirling behind him as he spun and slashed out at Netharak with his sword. Not one to be caught unprepared twice, Netharak blocked the slash with one of his own and then lunged forward with his other sword. Hardcase whipped his pistol around and slammed it into the blade of Netharak’s sword, changing its course so that it narrowly missed the slayer’s side and leaving the pistol in prime position to pump several shots into the demon’s unguarded side.

Stumbling away from the engagement with his shadows struggling to reform themselves, Netharak snarled and charged forward again, this time ducking under Hardcase’s slice and slashing both swords across the slayer’s belly, clearly intending to end the fight quickly and decisively. But the fiery twin swords were blocked by a flash of bright blue as they rebounded off Hardcase’s energy armor and dealt no damage. Mentall cursing himself, Netharak smoothly sidestepped a downward slice and kicked Hardcase in the chest, figuring that his armor wouldn’t protect him from sheer kinetic force.

It didn’t and Hardcase was sent skidding back on the heels of his feet for about a dozen feet before he caught himself by stabbing his sword into the ground and using it to drain off his momentum. Coughing a bit, Hardcase looked back up just in time to receive a flaming fist to the face. While most of the damage was blocked by his arcane shield, the force still snapped his head back to the accompaniment of an unwelcome cracking sound. Hardcase blinked up at the bright blue sky for a second before he was suddenly airborne from a ferocious knee right to his balls.

“Hoooooleeeeey shiiiiiiiit…….” Said a nearby villain in disbelief. Netharak spared the spectator a burning glare before turning back to Hardcase.

“At least put up a fight!” Netharak shouted at the semi-conscious man currently writhing on the ground clutching at his groin. “I’ve gotten more of a challenge sparring with anemic children than I have from you! Aren’t you supposed to be some sort of renowned demon-slayer? The lesser demons supposedly quake in fear when they hear your name mentioned and here you are, defeated in all of ten seconds! The least I can do is put you out of your misery. Any last words?”

“Yeah,” said Hardcase in a weak voice. “You ever learn how to multiply in Retarded Demon school?”

Netharak snorted. “What kind of insult is that? At least go to your grave with some dignity, mor-“

Netharak was cut off as suddenly five beams of light slammed into his back, causing the demon to arch backwards in pain. Roaring in surprise, he summoned up his blades once more and spun around, ready to slay that foolish villain from earlier for daring to intrude upon this fight.

“You didn’t think I’d go down that easy, did you?” asked Hardcase from where he stood next to a dumpster.

“Obviously you never bothered learning just how I rolled back in the day?” asked another Hardcase from the roof. A hasty scrabbling noise and a thump was all that remained of the Salvation Army-reject clad villain from before.

“How stupid is that?” asked a third Hardcase.

“Pretty damn stupid,” answered a fourth from where he stood right next to the third one.

“Now how about you put down those kitchen knives and go break up that party like I said you should?” put forth a fifth Hardcase as he poked Netharak in the chest with his sword.

“Though if you want us to finish your fight, we can,” suggested the Hardcase that Netharak had kicked.

Snarling, Lord Netharak dropped his swords, their flames dispersing before they hit the ground, and lowered his shadows, revealing his blood-red armor once more. Batting the sword away, Netharak shoved his face into Hardcase’s.

“An impressive display, mortal,” whispered the demon. “You have earned my respect for now and I shall do as you say, but realize that you have made a deadly enemy this day. When the time comes I will kill you. No amount of trickery or arcane secrets will save you as I drink the blood from your still twitching corpse. Your precious city shall burn all around you as I hunt your copies down one by one and end them as surely as I end this world. Enjoy every second of life until then, mortal, for your true last moments shall be full of such fear and terror as beyond your pitiful comprehension.”

Fuming to himself, Lord Netharak shouldered Hardcase aside and bounded up into the air again, aiming for the warehouse where Vivacious Verandi had said the party would be starting. As he left, Netharak imagined that he had heard one of the Hardcase’s say something but decided to ignore it.

“Like we haven’t heard that one before.”

So... People like Lord Netharak. People wanted more Lord Netharak. I enjoy writing more Lord Netharak. So why not have a thread for Lord Netharak?

Simply put I'll be putting all future stories about the Doom Lord in this thread instead of making a brand new one every single time I write something.

So yeah.... New story coming along in a sec.

"Don't think I've been here before," Toy Dispenser remarked as he stepped through the portal. "Just how long have you and Acid been fiddling with my planet, anyway? I don't think I've ever gotten more than a vague estimate out of you."

As Toy's bots stepped through the portal as well, Solid Shot hung back and waited for everyone else to go through before he stepped in himself. Not entirely trusting this odd lizard and his stick-like companion, Solid would err on the side of caution for now.

**********************************************

With an inaudible chunk, the two unactivated Stickmen were fired out of the portside launchers at Earth. The heat that built up during the first stage of entry into the earth's atmosphere jump started the two drones, causing them to phase shift 99.9% of their body mass out of touch with normal reality. The four individual slivers of metal that made up their soles burned white hot as they streaked through the night sky but did not melt or deform in any noticeable fashion.

The four streaks of light were fairly visible but since each signature was extremely small, way too small to be any sort of remote probe, they were dismissed as miniscule fragments of some forgotten satellite or other piece of space junk finally decaying and falling through the sky to burn up before they hit the ground. That they didn't burn up still didn't raise many questions, which was quite preferrable to the pair of Stickmen as they correctly oriented themselves and started skating through the ice and snow toward the target base.

The thermal signatures their feet were throwing out would most likely have dropped entirely by the time they were halfway to the base.

[ QUOTE ]
Just something that I've been wondering ever since I read this: any reason you're using Warcraft background (sargeras, burning legion, and all that)?

[/ QUOTE ]

Well, since the Burning Legion is an extra-dimensional force, I figured that it wouldn't be that hard for one of their number to stumble (or in this case get summoned) to Earth. That and the fact that I think the Doom Guard from Warcraft 3 are really [censored] cool.

Dramatics. Yes. That's the answer. Yep. Certainly not something more mundane that just looks like dramatics. Uh huh.

Anywho...

[ QUOTE ]
but he did count more than a few ‘Destined Ones’ among his flock

[/ QUOTE ]

That's certainly a good reason why Netharak wouldn't have wanted to start a fight in the middle of a sermon. There's also the fact that he fell asleep about 3/4ths of the way through and only woke up ten minutes after everyone else had left. No, Netharak does not snore.

But it's really the drama, though a fight in the middle of a screaming crowd of normals would have been entertaining, especially because Father Darron would have had to defend everyone while Netharak could be as indiscriminate as he wanted.

And does it seem to be the general consensus that people want more Lord Netharak?

Yay! People like me!

Anywho, to address some comments:

Shadowdeep: Amusingly enough, I got all the lines that Netharak recited from the song I put up in Putfile for just this purpose. How would it actually have gone?

Diov: The thing that I have with Netharak is that he's basically immune to holy attacks. The biggest problem he has with them is the light component that inevitably accompanies the attack really messes with his shadow armor. Also, Netharak only has wings when he's broken free of his seals and ascended to his true Doom Lord form. And then he gets more cool stuff like a larger size, a green flaming sword made of some black metal that can reshape itself according to his will, the ability to cast some handy spells, and a much, MUCH shorter temper. I'll answer your question after I poke Devious.

Devious: Why do you think I had Netharak wait? I'm interested in your answer.

El_D: More story, eh? Well, I DID download an entire track of these sorts of songs. Heh heh. I still find it hilarious that the songs that most remind me of Lord Netharak are songs about God or [censored] in Latin.

[u]The Demon's Prayer[u]
Alternate name

Warning: Contains extremely blasphemous materials. If you suffer from Bible thumping, heart attacks, or the illogical idea that the author endorses the views put forth by his own characters, please do not read any further.

“Amen.”

With the conclusion of the service, most of the worshippers hastily left out of the front and back doors to the small church. While Arachnos troops hadn’t performed a raid in the last month one could never be too sure how Lord Recluse’s mood could change. A firm believer in the superiority of science over all things, Lord Recluse was the closest one could get to being a Scientologist without being a member of that cult. As such, Recluse generally disapproved of people openly practicing religion in the Rogue Isles but didn’t do much about it. The worst that could happen would be a party of Wolf or Crab Spiders interrupting mid-service to arrest the preacher and random members of the attendees. They were usually released from the holding cells within a few days with no harm done but occasionally some people who were taken never came back. But that was fairly standard for the Isles. That said, however, no one wanted to take the risk and so the church emptied quickly enough, leaving behind the head priest, a heavily cloaked individual in the middle pews, and a small family that was discussing plans for a wedding with the priest.

“Of course I would be willing to administer your vows, Sharon,” said the priest, a kindly old man who managed to keep in good shape despite his years. His white, almost bleached hair, was pulled back in a pony tail that went down to his shoulders and he wore a small pair of spectacles that he needed to read. He wore a simple black robe with a silver cross hanging from a chain around his neck. The cross was tarnished slightly from age but was obviously lovingly cared for.

“Thank you so much, Father,” bubbled the portly blonde woman as she hugged the taller man at her side tightly. “Dan and I are so very honored that you’ll do this for us. I mean, a man of your cali-“

“Please, please,” replied Father Darron with an indulgent smile. “I am no more capable than any other man of the cloth. Now why don’t you two run along while I close up? Duty calls and all that.”

“God bless you, Father,” said Sharon one last time before she literally dragged her fiancé out of the doors. The man managed to exchange wry grins with the priest before he vanished through the door.

The last members of his congregation gone, Darron glanced at the large, hunched form still sitting in the middle of the church. He didn’t recognize the person from his previous sermons but he did count more than a few ‘Destined Ones’ among his flock and it wouldn’t be right for him to pressure the other man to leave just yet. After all, part of the reason why he was in the Rogue Isles was to redeem those that others thought beyond redemption. It did bother the priest slightly that the villain hadn’t revealed his face, but aside from a vague feeling of unease that persisted as he went about cleaning up the inevitable detritus of the day he paid the other man no mind. He made sure to leave the row of pews that the stranger was in for last and was rewarded for his patience when the man got to his feet about ten minutes after the service had ended and walked up the aisle toward the lectern where Father Darron was counting up the day’s donations.

“Greetings, my child,” said the priest as he looked up into the lowered hood of the stranger. Apparently the villain knew some form of magic as the shadows within the hood were impenetrable to the priest’s eyes. “Do you need something from me?”

“Yes, actually,” came a growl from under the hood. Something about the man’s voice caused the sense of unease Father Darron had felt before to return full force. Keeping a smile on his face, the priest none-the-less lowered his hand toward something he kept nearby for just such a reason.

“I confess that I am somewhat confused by your religion,” continued the large man in the same growling tone. “Or at least how so many mortals can be duped into following it.”

“They are none of them ‘duped’,” answered Father Darron as his eyes narrowed slightly. “And while most of them may not be true believers they at least all share the same desire – the same comfort – of believing in God and His salvation.”

“And that is the part I do not get,” replied the villain as he crossed his arms to the accompaniment of a metallic rasp. Father Darron’s eyes narrowed a bit more in response. “How could they believe in something that doesn’t exist?”

“That is why they have faith, my friend. Now I’m going to have to ask you to leave now. I was too polite to say so beforehand but the church has closed for the day. I have urgent business elsewhere that needs attending too.”

“I believe the business you have right here is quite important enough, Father,” said the man, almost spitting out that last word. “Especially since this business shall be your last act.”

“I do not take kindly to threats, young man,” replied Father Darron with steel in his voice. “I am quite capable of protecting myself should you try to harm me.”

“Harm you?” asked the man with what seemed to be a laugh. “I am not here to harm you. I am here to kill you.”

With a sound like the exhalation of a long held breath, the stranger’s cloak dissolved into wisps of black mist that were sucked into the dull orange runes that dotted the blood red armor that was revealed. A similarly colored cape with odd looking characters picked out in orange lightly brushed the floor. But although the runes were distressing, what with their alarming tendency to shift slightly while Darron looked at them, the most worrisome thing was the wolf-like head with it’s wide grinning mouth full of teeth and burning green eyes. Literally burning, in fact; a small part of Father Darron’s mind wondered just how this thing could see with flames covering its eyes. But then the priest snapped out of his shock and smoothly drew a gleaming silver sword from its hidden sheath in the lectern.

“Demon,” Father Darron spat out, the reason for his uneasy feeling finally dawning on him. There was a demon right here in the middle of his church and standing not two feet from him. Another small part of his mind rebuked the rest of it for screwing up so badly. “How is it possible for one such as you to enter this place?”

“Straight to the point, eh mortal?” replied the demon with an even wider grin. It seemed to show no concern that the priest was now armed with a weapon that he clearly knew how to use. The arrogance of demons had always been their greatest flaw, one that Father Darron took continual advantage of. “And here I was thinking a great demon slayer like yourself had seen everything there was.”

“I’m more experienced than you might think, beast,” said Father Darron as he backed away from the lectern, sword and Bible in hand now. “Though I admit that I had not expected a demon powerful enough to tread on this holy ground to blatantly challenge me in God’s house.”

“You have not seen a demon like I before, Father,” replied the creature as it casually batted the lectern away, sending the thick oaken stand crashing into the wall. “I am Lord Netharak, Doom Lord of the Burning Legion and exempt from the pathetic bindings that limit the otherworldly forces of this world. I spit upon your god and laugh at the mere thought that his disciple can challenge a chosen of Sargeras!”

“A demon is a demon,” shot back Father Darron as he flipped the Bible open with one hand and showed it to Lord Netharak. “Now be purged by God’s holy word!”

Brilliant light shone from the pages of the Bible as though the sun itself was shining through them. The beams of light played over the entire church before narrowing their focus and burning into and through the foolish demon, disintegrating his body into ash and casting his treacherous soul back to whatever pits it had come from.

“It that the best you’ve got?” Lord Netharak laughed as he emerged from the beam of light, one arm held up to shield his eyes from the brightness. “I hardly think some singed hair was what you were aiming for with that light bulb of yours.”

Father Darron gaped as the demon as the Bible shut on its own accord, cutting off the last beams of light and returning the room to its former level of light, which seemed almost like twilight in comparison now. But the demon slaying priest recovered quickly enough and scowled deeply at Netharak.

“Whatever vile trickery Satan has given you this day will not be enough to deter God’s vengeance, beast,” spat out the old man as he lifted his sword toward the heavens, tip almost poking the ceiling of the small church. “By the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost you shall be cleansed from this place of worship!”

*-*-*

It had been a fairly gloomy Sunday in the Rogue Isles so far. The news had said there would be rain throughout the whole day but it had never shown up, leaving heavy cloud cover hanging in the sky for the whole day. Things didn’t look like they’d clear up any time soon, so the people of the Rogue Isles prepared for a drearier than usual Monday.

The ray of sunshine that suddenly burst through the clouds and illuminated a section of Cap au Diable for a brief few seconds went unseen by the vast majority of the populace. The ones that had seen this odd phenomenon wondered what kind of hero or villain had done it before going about the rest of the day in an oddly cheerful mood.

*-*-*

The results of this ray of light in the confined area of the church was a bit more spectacular , forcing Lord Netharak to shield his eyes once again and curse the annoying habit of holy men to render his shadows all but useless. But when the light dimmed and Netharak saw that the sword Father Darron was holding was now on fire, the demon figured that maybe he didn’t need his shadows for this fight.

“I can do that too,” Netharak growled as a scimitar of pure green felfire sprung into being in his right hand. “Now, I think you said something about cle-“

Netharak’s taunt was cut off as Father Darron lunged forward at a speed the priest had never before shown to possess. The demon was barely able to deflect the first blow and had to resort to summoning up a second sword to keep his defenses from being penetrated. The fury the priest was displaying had caught the demon by surprise though he really should have been expecting it; humans always had the most distressing tendency toward fanaticism, yet another reason why he couldn’t wait to burn this entire diseased planet to cinders.

“Is that all you have, mortal?” taunted Netharak as he steadily retreated, beating back blow after furious blow with his swords and unable to get a single strike in retaliation. “Should I not be dead by now? Struck down by your god for my temerity, my insolence? Should you not be fighting harder, mortal? Stop fooling around and really come at me!”

At Lord Netharak talked, he began stepping up the power of his blocks until Father Darron’s sword was bouncing back more often than it was slashing in for an attack. This allowed Netharak to begin his own offensive, unleashing an onslaught of attacks that demolished the insides of the church. Lord Netharak didn’t seem to care how often he missed or how often he hit a pew instead of Father Darron. The fires of the demon’s eyes burned ever brighter as he entered a fighting rage that would soon see the entire building destroyed in a fiery cataclysm. Father Darron could see this and summoned up a brilliant burst of light that blinded the demon for a crucial second or two, allowing him to retreat out the back door.

Roaring in anger, Lord Netharak followed, bursting through the doors and smashing them to flinders in his rage. Now in an alleyway, Netharak looked up along a fire escape to see the priest climbing the last few feet up onto the room of the adjacent building.

“Running so soon?” Lord Netharak roared as he tensed his legs and then launched himself up into the air, landing with a small explosion of dust on the edge of the roof. “I thought you priests had righteousness on your side. Why run, then?”

“This is a bit more dramatic, don’t you think?” Father Darron replied, the bad joke making him feel a bit better. In all his long years he had never fought a demon that so easily ignored the effects of his holy blade. Made of blessed Damascus steel, cleansed in holy water, and inlaid with the Lord’s Prayer in silver on the hilt, Father Darron’s Avenger had never failed him before. The fact that it was doing so now seemed to lend credence to the demon’s story. And if this demon really wasn’t from Hell, then how could he be fought?

“Having second thoughts?” Lord Netharak asked with a snort as though reading Father Darron’s mind. “Maybe you should just give up then, accept your death like a good little martyr. I promise to make it quick and relatively painless.”

“I’ll never surrender to your kind,” Father Darron quickly replied. “Though I may die this day my soul shall ascend to Heaven and become one with God. That is the most I can ask for and the best fate I can wish for.”

“Then allow me to speed you on your way!” shouted Netharak as he charged, heavy tread pounding against the roof and swords held extended out to either side.

Darron stood fast as the demon charged; holding his sword before his face as he calmly read the prayer written on its hilt from memory. Once Lord Netharak got close enough, Darron sprung through the air in a perfect front flip, lashing out with his sword as he passed over Netharak’s back. Landing in a crouch, Darron quickly jumped up and spun back around still chanting his prayer.

“That hurt,” growled the demon as black blood slowly seeped from a moderate gash on the back of his head. “Although I’m sure it would have slain one of the lesser breed.”

Giving Father Darron no time to reply, Lord Netharak charged again and this time they clashed once more. Flaming steel met solid green fire in a deadly dance that would have seen lesser men cut into chunks with their souls destroyed and lesser demons quickly cleaved and banished back to the darkest pits of Hell. But Lord Netharak was no earthly demon and the holy strength Father Darron was bringing to bear did not daunt the Doom Lord, rather it gave the demon an idea.

“Our Father, which art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name, they kingdom come, thy will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven,” recited the demon in a deep voice, toothy grin returning. “And forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.”

“Blasphemy!” Father Darron shouted, enraged beyond all measure, the fact that this demon was reciting the word of God was just too much. This bastion of contempt and arrogance, of blasphemy and evil screamed to be wiped from the face of the earth and obliterated from human memory.

“Give us this day our daily bread and forgive our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us,” continued the demon, defiling the words as he spoke them. “And lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil, for thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory! Forever and ever, amen!”

Father Darron let loose an incoherent scream of anger and hatred as he threw everything he had into the fight, the Bible he was holding shining brightly in response to his holy anger. Such a righteous anger filled him that he didn’t even notice when Lord Netharak had lopped off both of his arms. Just as Lord Netharak had planned, the priest had been so consumed with anger and hatred at this unexpected and unconsidered blasphemy that he had thrown caution to the winds, giving the demon just the edge he had needed to end the fight. Just as the realization that he had lost blossomed in Father Darron’s mind, the demon smoothly scooped up the dropped sword and impaled the priest upon it.

“E nomine patris et fili et spiritus sancti!” Netharak shouted triumphantly as he lifted the sword up into the air, tip facing the cloud covered heavens. Netharak stared into the priest’s eyes as the man died and licked some of the blood that was flowing down the sword.

Lord Netharak roared as he channeled his own fire through the sword, wreathing the entire thing in sickly green flames that swiftly devoured the corpse stuck upon it and started melting the sword like a candle. He said only one thing to speed the priest’s doomed soul down to Hell.

“Amen!”

OOC: Comments are welcome, as always, especially regarding what and how Father Darron talked. Since I last visited church when I was 10, I'm afraid I don't have much memory of how things work in there any more.

OOC: Spindle's an assault bot?

BIC: "All you'd have to do is walk slowly and go 'Raaaaarh' a lot," Solid said to Vern.

"But asking just makes it less fun," Mini Bot whined as it joined the two in front of the door. "It's a lot more fun when you chase us."

"I'm ready whenever," Toy said.