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[center][h2][b]Joseph Mathers Vs. The Archon of the Old Earth[/b][/h2][/center]

[center][sub][@fdeviant] & [@DearTrickster][/sub][/center]

[hr]


The Archon of the Old Earth turned its back on their ally, the human standing before them had a filthy iron ring on his hand. Repulsed by the very presense of it such displays of blantent disrespect were to be rectified. The Archon could already smell old knowledge all over the boy. 

Joseph held an arm up to sheild his nose from the horrible stench of the Archon. Never before had he seen such a creature, not since his first meeting with Bucca. He turned to Holt, hoping that his Otherworldly knowledge might give some insight as to their oponent, but to no avail. Joseph had no interest in fighting a faery, nor was he sure that he had the means to do so; he just wanted some information.

With his free hand, Joseph made a sign that meant to halt the Archon. "Wait!" he shouted. It was difficult to make out any normal expressions on the Archon's face, but Joseph could tell that it was annoyed at his presence. "I just want to know what's happening here, nothing more. There's no need for violence." 

The Archon slowed to stand within a few feet of Joseph, their black lips partially moving speaking in Common Fey. "[i]You bring iron into my presense. A transgression that cannot be forgiven, human[/i]."

It's antlers began to glow while the light from the surrounding area seemed to be dimmed in real time, "[i]You reek of old knowledge. It is an opportunity I will not let pass to gorge upon.[/i]"

Joseph looked at the Archon with confusion. It made sounds unlike anything he'd heard, a strange combination of otherworldly phrases mixed with both gutteral shifts and light, bell-like tinkling. He was entirely unfamiliar the language of the Fey, but Holt knew the Archon's words.

"They're pissed about your iron ring and they know you're a witch, an old one at that. It's not likely that we'll just walk out of here now." Holt presented the information quickly and without emotion. Joseph moved back a few steps, readying himself. Perhaps he was the one who wasn't prepared. Marie had taken down beings similar to the Archon and flown on her merry way, but Joseph's battles had always been fought at a distance.

He shook his head and waved away his self-doubt. There was no point in analyzing the situation now, he was out of options. If there was anything Joseph knew, it was how to counter magic, and his iron ring would be an invaluable tool in his coming battle with a faery creature. He turned to Holt, who moved closer to Joseph. They were as ready as they'd ever be.

The glow intensified along the antlers the vines and moss seemingly coming to life the smell of decay doubling in intensity. Mold grew in thick sporus blankets across the Archon's right arm. Within a heartbeat their arm shot out at Joseph covered from the tips of their long dirty nails to the top of their shoulder in spores meaning to envelope the witch to steal his memories.

Connecting with the unintended target of the shadowy Holt, did the spores immediately bloom in succession across his chest. Holt had sprung into action putting himself between the Archon and his master. The Archon thrummed with irritation then a noise of content oozed as it absorbed some of Holt's earliest memories of meeting Joseph centuries ago.

The Archon's appetite only increased at the small sample from Holt, they would surely dine finely on the memories of a witch as old as Joseph. 

Holt squirmed while in the Archon's grasp, eventually leaving his physical form behind and flying safely from the clutches of his mold. He felt parts of him being sapped away by the Archon's touch and didn't dare let them take hold of Joseph, lest they use his knowledge to their advantage. 

"Holt," Joseph called to his familiar. "Are you alright?" 

"Worry about yourself," Holt called back with a harsh tone, "and don't let this guy touch you."

Joseph nodded. He looked around, hoping to find something he could use to his advantage. His powers were not like Marie's, he couldn't invoke great feats from nowhere, he needed a catalyst, some supernatural aid, and unfortunately, the heat of battle was not the best time to scavange for supplies. Joseph searched his mind, the stress clouding his internal grimoire. He could think of nothing with the threat of the Archon's touch looming over him. He would have to issue commands to Holt while searching for an appropriate spell or charm.

"Holt," he called out once more, "stir the winds and scorch the earth!" Holt nodded, his body fading even more as he moved about the underpass, his every motion drawing a strong, sharp wind to combat the Archon's mold. So too did he tred upon the earth in a line between the Archon and Joseph, his every step searing a black mark into the ground and sprouting flames. The fire spread to the surrounding area with the aid of the wind, and all were closing in on the Archon. 

Gutteral hisses escaped the Archon watching the flames, raising their hoofed leg it stomped the ground light emitting in the cracks of the ground where it's hoof stomped creating an opening for the Archon to escape the circle of fire. Long strides brought it safely outside of the circle slamming both of their fists down into the ground it rippled with green light faery rings of mushrooms surrounded the Archon meaning to protect itself from the fire. The Archon's head lifted spotting a tree from the other side of the underpass. Magic glowed around the tree as if coming to life the roots pulled up from the ground freeing itself to come to the will of the Archon. Other trees followed suit around it. 

The trees shuddered from side to side unbalanced on roots crawling forward under the command of the Archon entering the underpass scrapping their way past the cement ceiling. Roots lashed out toward Joseph with intentions to trap him.

Holt moved quickly, placing himself between Joseph and the small army of tree beasts. Their roots wrapped around his ghosly figure, grabbing at something that wasn't there. He touched the trees with an infernal claw, but the magic that held them together dissipated his flames. 

"Joseph," he called, distracting the trees that encroached upon them, "the ring, do something with the ring!" As he fended off what few of them he could, others made their way past, threatening Joseph with their gnarled roots. 

Joseph had since shaken off the initial fear of combat and was now ready to contribute. A pouch of rowan ash was still fastened around his waste, and he was still gripping tightly the hawthorn blasting rod he'd used to enchant the ring. He would use what few components he had to construct a Sator Square and use the faery warding magic of the ring in conjunction.

Without hesitation, Joseph opened the pouch, took a fistful of ash and cast it on the ground. He then began the chant:

[center][b][i]S A T O R
A R E P O
T E N E T
O P E R A
R O T A S[/i][/b][/center]

As he spoke, the ash on the ground burned away the grass and formed the incanted words, searing them into the ground where he stood. The iron ring began to glow, reacting to the warding effects of the Sator Square. Suddenly, a thin film of wispy, white light began to encircle Joseph, the words formed by his spell appearing also on the iron ring. He had built a powerful ward, one that would halt most magical attacks and one that could cut through faery magic, but he had placed himself at a slight disadvantage. The Sator Square would also weaken his powers, so he would need to rely on commands given to Holt.

A stray root suddenly passed through Holt's body and sought Joseph. As soon as it touched the air around him, it recoiled in pain, the wood burning away and leaving behind a scorched nub.

The Archon hissed again digging it's hands deeper into the ground willing the roots to press on throwing their full weight against the ward Joseph erected. The air became rife with the hazy smoke of burning wood. Walls were built to be torn down, the Archon's power could if given the time outlast a human's. The pesky ring however was the key to Joseph's resistance. 

The Archon pulled back their hands from the ground realizing the need to change tact, while the trees hammered against the ward's walls. The Archon turned to Holt, the familiar physically protecting his master. Muttering past it's black lips was a spell to change the composition of the Archon's spores. They naturally exuded the siphoning magic it took to take memories from mortals and faeries alike. In cases such as these the Archon had decided to remove Holt's protection by taking the one thing he needed most to help. His magic. 

The antlers lit again the spores lifting and floating carelessly between the thrashing roots with express purpose to latch onto Holt's entity once more.

Spores passed through Holt's form, but their powers allowed them to stick to it nevertheless. Holt, perhaps for the first time in his existence, felt pain. His body began to fade as the spores sapped his power. He was a familiar spirit, a being of magic and supernatural power. The Archon's spores would not only weaken Holt if allowed to persist, they would destroy him.

Holt wasn't sure if death was a possibility for a familiar, but he wasn't keen to find out. Knowing that Joseph's ward could hold out against the roots, he moved and allowed the tree beasts to beat against his magical walls in vain. His body, the black smoke that contributed to his obscure visage, was dissipating even faster as the spores drained his power. He launched himself at the Archon, body becoming engulfed in flames in the hopes of both destroying the magical spores and harming the Archon . . . both in vain.

The spores absorbed his mystical fire and the Archon's circle of mushrooms blocked Holt's path. It seemed to be the end for him.

"Holt," Joseph shouted over the sound of roots striking against his ward, "you're dismissed!"

Holt turned back and looked at him in horror. If Joseph dismissed him, if he traveled beyond the veil and returned to the Otherworld, he would be leaving Joseph vulnerable. He had absolute faith in his wards, but he also knew that the Archon was an old and powerful foe who had both the means and the desire to destroy Joseph. 

"Joseph, think about this," Holt called back to his master weakly. "If I leave, you'll be on your own."

"I know, but if you stay, I'll lose you. Better that I should join you in the Otherworld today than one day be there without you." He was choking up, but now wasn't the time to be emotional, he had a job to do. He called out once more. "Holt, you're dismissed!" 

With a loud shriek and a swirl of dark light, Holt's smoky black form curled in on itself, passing from this world into the Other, leaving behind the spores as well as his master. Joseph turned his head, he'd never dismissed Holt before. The two had worked together on everything for the past three centuries, empowering one another, but for this battle, Joseph would need to rely on his knowledge and his alone.

The Archon felt a shiver of satisfaction at tasting the familiar's magic absorbing every morsal greedily until he disappeared from Earth's plane. The Archon's full attention was squarely set on Joseph now. Spores still lingering in the area about the Archon, covering their hands in spores like a pair of ovenmits the Archon approached the warded sphere pushing with strength. Dirt and cement pushed up on the edges of the sphere the smell of burning mold mixed with the scent of burning wood. The roots still thrashed against the walls while the Archon locked eyes with the witch.

[i]"Men know nothing of what true magic can do."[/i]

Spores were burning as the Archon pushed but more were readily there to replace and keep the Archon's hands protected. 

Joseph took the opportunity to reach beyond the ward and, with his ringed hand, touched what parts of the Archon were visible. Spores latched onto him as he did so, but the magic of his iron ring burned them away, glowing firecly as it connected with the Archon's skin.

Not a second before the Archon could recoil with disgust the iron touched their arm and even with less than a second of contact the iron's poison took vicious hold on the faerie. Green metalic lines raced through their skin the Archon's grip released immedaitely against the ward clutching at their arm. A low roar rumbled against the walls of the underpass taking an angry and powerful swipe at the ward sending the sphere and it's inhabitant flung through the wall of now stilled roots to land outside the underpass.

Vomit sprung from the Archon's ghastly lips spilling down their chest. The Archon fell to their knees the roar sending shivers down anyone in the vicinity. The metalic lines of poison spread visibly up their arm and to their heart. The Archon bowed their head feeling their body give out against the pain. They collapsed with a shuddering thud into the ground breathing raspy and pained.

Odette had rounded the corner of the ambulance having watched the scene of the Archon being poisoned. A gasp of genuine horror escaped her while she ran to the Archon to ensure their survival. Bach kept his distance terrifed at the sight of iron poisoning. Too afraid to help.

She pulled apart her purse fishing out a ginger root snapping it in her hands she forced slices of it down past the Archon's mouth. She had always been prepared and knew of the root's nullifying effects against iron. When the Archon's pained cries slowed to harsh breathing she knew a being as powerful as the Archon couldn't die by iron alone. "[color=thistle][i]My dear friend we shall take good care of you. Thank you.[/i][/color]"

Rage burned through the cores of her irises knowing deep in her marrow how the intruder would dearly pay in kind. Her priorities still set firmly on taking Racheli away she would need to move the Archon as well afterwards back to their own realm.

Meanwhile, just beyond the underpass on a small hill overlooking a clearing, Joseph stirred. His ward protected him from the Archon's touch, but the force with which he was thrown had made him sore. He could just make out the figure of Odette walking up to the Archon, but he wasn't worried. With the Archon's down and their spores taken care of, he was free to summon Holt once more and find out more about the scene he had stumbled upon under the bridge. 

Joseph climbed the small hill and called for Holt, but he didn't answer. In fact, Joseph could hear nothing, see nothing other than a white fog that had now encased him. He tried to speak, but he could not. Was this more faery magic? Surely his ring would have cut through it. From beyond the fog came a dark figure whom he had hoped was Holt coming to explain things, but it was not. To Joseph's horror, the thing that appeared before him was not a familiar spirit, nor a faery, but another manner of spirit entirely. 

Before Joseph stood a being coated in shadows, disappointment, and coarse dirt, an apparition most foul: his father, Increase Mather.