Sigma
Enigmatik
Timemaster
abnormallory
Gerlando
Scrawl Banditta
Snowdrops
Shertul had barely gotten on his feet, and already another threatening white knight had appeared- in a flash of light and lightening, no less! How very Nephilim of him.
"By Alithe's wastes what do you think you were doing Fleshspinner? You should be dead!"
Shertul's counter was faster than the crack of a whip. "And you should show basic ethical sympathy, so I guess we're both disappointing."
But before the angel could grow any closer, he thought back again to the Crest on the farmgirl's thigh. Few Revenants would have stopped to save a suffering stranger, Fleshspinners included, unless... could it be because he was a Fleshspinner? Perhaps she hoped to earn instruction. There was always a vampire banging on the Monastery doors, asking to be granted the powers of Flesh, then leaving in disappointment when they discovered the decades of devotion that would be needed to prove them worthy. Shertul always wondered what they expected: was the Monastery just going to wave a magic wand, sprinkle some fairy dust and force new limbs to simply sprout from them?
Of course, this pretty little thing looked too young to be a Revenant. And too weak. He would question his teenage savior in time, if his life had any time left. For now, he but whispered. "I will always have gratitude for what you've done."
He nodded in the angel's direction. "I will distract him. But perhaps you run, marked of Alithe. No doubt, they'll slaughter you if that mark is seen. I'll find you another time, if I'm left alive." He spoke with an unintentional, semi-holy reverence.
Shertul took a wide, combative step to hide her from this newly appeared enemy's unwavering gaze. He was careful to disguise it as a natural movement- the sort made by any man bucking for a fight. A shade of endless black spilled slowly into his eyes. He relaxed his claws back to their full length... maybe just a bit further.
Yet before the bloodshed could properly begin, he had to at least try to talk his way out if it. There would be a bounty on his head if he ripped up two Nephilim.
He ignored the mage. He had heard of the abhorrent Kaezira, and knew that he was not worth words. But the new angel. He might have the decency to feel remorse.
First, Shertul spoke only to the crowd. "Do what Kaezira says. Go back to your homes. I am a monster, yes it's true, so flee before your valiant knights accidentally kill half of you on the way to me!"
The crowd moved back only a few yards. I suppose we'll have an audience today.
Then he turned a pinning gaze to the second Nephilim, the teleporting one. The Fleshspinner's words were an assassin's daggers: quick, sharp and coated in poisonous accusation. "A Nephilim, of course! Who else could find such evil in themselves to speak insults to a near-dead man? I foolishly believed those in my Monastery were exaggerating, when they warned me of how cruel Raziel's followers were. My misguided friend even risked arguing to them on your behalf." His tongue became wet with hate. "I'm sorry to see... they were truthful all along."
He took a gasping breath, and continued before the fool could interrupt him.
"What, are you feeling sorry for yourself? That you had to come check a gate and threaten murder against me, a neutral man who has never harmed a soul that did not first harm him?" He gestured to the hand that glowed ever so faintly of Blinding Light. "I just had every part of my body thrown into a level of agony that I don't think you could even begin to understand. But yes, poor you, having to accost a dying traveler." Shertul twirled both his right arms into a mocking bow. "You are clearly the victim here. I'm sorry my torture ruined your day."
In her decades of life, Windleaf had never once felt more confused. This... this thing was dying only moments before. But now it was up on it's feet in an instant, speaking calmly to the kind girl who had struggled desperately to rescue it. Everything about it- it's all-too-fluent motions, it's appearance, the ease in which it changed itself- screamed to the her soul that it was not of nature. Some twisted work of magic, no doubt.
She felt a pang of guilt, knowing centaurs may be just the same.
Even so. Sutagara believed herself to be a servant of nature, first and foremost before all other obligations. She heard the mage shouting, and if he spoke the truth, it was Windleaf's honor-bound duty to slay the abomination. The Nephilim still held some respect in her eyes. Granted, their laws often spawned civilization spreading like disease into the beauty of forests, yet Raziel was the very one who held Waste at bay.
"Begone, people! Do you have any business monster-slaying?"
The pride of a warrior painted her tone. "I do." She drew her heavy blade in a light motion.
In the end, if the worst comes, the centaur will stand with the angels.
