[center][h1][color=lightblue]Donnie[/color][/h1][/center]
[center]Word Count:756[/center]
[center](28/40) + 2 = [b]30/40[/b][/center]

Donnie took stock of the battlefield. It was pandemonium. But the beings atop the building caught his attention.

These...[i]things.[/i] Donnie could feel the magic radiating off of those golden-winged beings like a palpable thing. They did not read as what they should have pinged as.

The greater universe in which Azeroth resided, known to Azerothians as the Great Dark Beyond, was defined by two opposing forces: The Light and the Void. The Light was an ethereal force, an endless sea of thrumming life energy, that existed beyond the boundaries of reality. It, like chi, could be found in all things, as it was the life-force that made creatures tick. Light proper cannot directly exist in the universe outside of living things, but it could be harnessed as holy magic.

Donnie--or rather, Donovan--was raised in Stormwind for the first twelve years of his life. Stormwind's defining religion was the Church of the Light. It was the thing he had grown up praying to and worshipping, and he had venerated those trained priests and paladins who could harness its power as authority figures.

He had met the Naaru. He had fought alongside Lighforged Dranei. He knew paladins personally. He had seen them obliterate demons, undead, and the spawn of the Old Gods in holy fire. He had seen them heal the sick and revive the dead, just like he could. Even as someone who could not control Light, he was aware of its power and its role in the world. He respected it and held in great esteem those who used it to help others.

But these...things. These beings that dressed up in a shining golden shell, decorated with gaudy yet sinister spikes, metallic wings, and shining jewels, with unnatural, alabaster faces to cap it all off...clearly, they were meant to be holy. But they made a mockery of the Light.

This flying machine was clearly meant as relief for the "police" station. And they just destroyed it before he could get near.

He was on his Disc, racing to help those inside. He had been trying to protect the innocent. And these allegedly-holy beings had just trashed it, probably killing everyone inside as it crashed into the beleaguered "police" station.

He shook. He could feel the negative forces threatening to take over.

[i]No.[/i]

He had lost control against the Ent. But he was the Grand Master of the Order of the Broken Temple. He was to lead by example. It was fine to feel anger. But only insofar as it was useful. The sha had been an excellent example of how negativity could consume you. Sometimes literally.

So he clamped down on it. Took a deep breath. Closed his eyes. When he opened them, they were determined, and intently focused. His path was clear.

Whatever these things were, they were going to pay for their crimes.

He ignored the ground battle. Blazermate had single-handedly neutralized the majority of the undead force, and the defenders were hurling enough lead at the zombies that were left to make life hell for a melee fighter.

So, he hopped on the Disc and rocketed towards the big one, the one he didn't know was called a Cachet.

While passing by, he snapped out his right leg and spun, his foot making contact with the Cachet's left cheek in a perfectly-executed Blackout kick that knocked it back to the edge of the roof as [i]something[/i] flew off of it. A lance of pain stabbed through his arm as he passed by though. It had manifested some kind of blade and slashed at him, leaving a nasty wound.

But the panel clattered to the ground, revealing a wriggling mass of flesh underneath the marble-like shell. Disgusting.

"Funny," he said, dismounting the Disc and slipping its orb into his Luggage before desummoning it, his voice dripping with enmity, "Where I come from, holy beings don't need to wear [i]masks.[/i]"

Then, he leaped into the fray once more. He didn't use the Fists this time. He wouldn't be holding back.

He charged towards the Cachet, both hands charged with chi that he attempted to shove into the angel's face--a dual Tiger Palm. When you get to be a grandmaster, you learn to improvise techniques. Then, he rolled back, the roll turning into a backflip as he landed on the other side of the roof, gathering energy into his hands as he fired off a Chi Burst. At its current trajectory, it would go through Banjo, two Compassions, and the Cachet, hurting enemies and healing allies, including himself. He'd rather heal at these things' expense than waste time casting Vivify.