[center][h1]Gilliam DeWitt and Nasaraph Sana[/h1][/center]

Burning! Pain! The scent of burning flesh as Alto's blade bit into the side of Gilliam for the second time in his life. It was a pain he remembered, a deep phantom ache seared deep into his soul that refused to go away so long as Alto yet lived. The wound that would not heal until Alto was a part of him. In due time it would be so, the hole would be filled, but for now all Gilliam could do was let out a piercing shrike that reverberated in your bones and made the back of your teeth itch. 

He rabidly pulled away, pulled into himself, where it was safe, yes, safe, inside the concrete and drywall bunker of debris that shielded the bulk of his body and then into himself, becoming a boiling mass of flesh smothering the wound but it still [i]burned[/i].  

As all of Gilliam disappeared beneath the rubble Nasaraph saw his chance to safely follow Aram down. It had been good of the boy, Nasaraph thought, to jump down first and draw any stray attacks for him. Now that the monster was hiding, though, there was no point on waiting for anyone to notice the decoy. He wrapped his hands around the convenient pole Aram had left behind, poured some of his aura into them to keep from getting friction burns, and started sliding down. Past the second floor hallway, down which he was surprised to spot some more students, and got very nearly to the bottom of the first.

That's when the pile of debris exploded.

Gilliam had boiled up all of his hatred and used it to shoot dozens of writhing tendrils out of his protective bunker with enough force to shatter it, sending stone and metal flying in all directions. His tendrils slashed through the air like a meat blender, lashing out at anything nearby and further throwing the debris further in random arcs. Nasaraph saw a huge chunk of drywall flying right at him, and let go of the pole. He released his grip on the aura he had accumulated, letting it flow freely for a moment, before directing it from his palms at the stone in front of him. Something invisible lashed out from his body, impacting the dryway and shattering it into little pieces that pelted him as he fell. Fall he did, landing badly on un-enhanced legs that sent a shock of pain through him that brought him to his knees. 

Meanwhile, in the pile, the tentacles stopped their whirling dervish and wrapped around one another. They compacted down and twisted themselves together until they molded, became one, and took the form of a man. Pale skinned, with long, wild dark hair and a muscular build. The surface of his skin spasmed and twitched, becoming dark and billowing out even as each individual strand of hair rose up to help tie itself into one long braid. Soon what was standing there wasn't a monster, but a well dressed and groomed young man with a sever expressions on his face and the hint of a long burn scar poking up from beneath his collar that even now boiled at the edges as it tried to knit back together. 

His dark eyes swept the room for Alto, and he fond more than what he expected. His frown only deepened. This room just kept filling with enemies.
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