The drow pulled his devious smile into a grin of dark intent, obsidian eyes almost glinting in the wicked shadows of the Realm of the Damn. Rushing to meet the monk with a swift step, his ominous blade carrying along beside him in an equally swift cut, he soon realized he was being drawn into both of the holy men's trap; dusky blade glinting with dim yellow sending a cascade of sparks off the tombstone Seki held, a pillar of gold-red flame erupted from above him, striking him with its fury.
Recoiling in outlandish pain - pain born from the wrath of the divine domain of nature - he stumbled briefly. His diabolical, truly unholy symbols emblazoned across his body scarred, with some burned clean from his disfigured flesh, he wailed horribly in spite. What had been Cario, once upon a time, was no more than a man whose very essence was diffused among this place of darkness and evil; he was as much a part of the plane as he was not, his existence forfeit should he fail his dark master.
The tombstone in the monk's hands damaged badly, featuring a magical and clean blow straight across its surface, it soon felt the rage of the servant of death, who drew back with his blade and struck with surprise and immense force. Every ounce of demonic energy in his person channeled, his desperation was becoming more severe; if fortune was on his side, albeit it had not been this day, this blow might even carry through to the robed man on the other side.
@Gentlemanvaultboy
The injury of earlier visibly mending as a wave of regenerative energy ran throughout the false commoner, the man again prepared his spell with divine gestures; although it was clearly the same force as called upon earlier, hands beginning to glow with a mixture of natural and supernatural flame, he appeared to alter the motions. There was no one perfect way to preform these duties, to his fortune, as the might of the natural world was a divine thing - less concerned with the precision the arcane was.
All the practitioner of the divine needed to do, was to cripple the dark elf and his vile powers enough for the others to land a deadly, final blow. The wrenching of his tattoos and flesh from his form by work of sacred fire were successful in this to an extent as although debatably dead and alive at once, Cario was pushed all the same to continue fighting beyond any mortal limit.
Awaiting his opportunity now, flames readied and roiling around his dirtied fingers, he awaiting the robed man's actions; the warden unwilling to bathe his own ally in a stroke of holy fire called from above.
@Shade@TaroMaster4@SouffleGirl123
