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Sechth nh Allai - Contract with Death (Continuing Thread) [M-LV possibly S]


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[FONT=Arial][COLOR=DarkRed][B][SIZE=3][CENTER]Chapter One: The Crimson[/SIZE] [/B]

[SIZE=2]He looked up to the sky, which was now turning that all-too-familiar shade of crimson.

"The perfect time for us to come out, isn't it Feth?" He cast a playful look to his right shoulder, where rested the head of his spear. "The crimson is our signal."

He knelt close to the ground, scooping up a handful of dirt and slowly sifting it through his long fingers. As he stood, he lightly brushed his hand over his long, white robes, not hard enough to dirty them, but just hard enough to get the dirt off his hand.

He leapt into the air, higher than any normal man, and rocketed toward his destination.

He landed on the ground on his toes, his right handle knuckle-down in the dirt, and sprang into a sprint. He was but a blur in the slowly fading evening light, and he moved as a river - unerringly and smoothly.

He suddenly came to an abrupt halt in the center of a small village. As though nothing were out of the ordinary, the villagers continued about their ordinary business, paying no heed to this new stranger to their lands.

He smirked. "They cannot see us in the crimson, Feth." He brandished his long glaive, and leapt high into the air again.

The wind swirled around him as he flew into the air, creating a sheer around him which kept him above the ground even if his jump should halt. He pointed his spear downward, toward the crown of a villager below, and dove head-first toward the ground.

The villager looked up just as Feth glinted in the fading sunlight. The spear skewered him through the mouth, exiting through his bowels and dripping with his blood as it held its master above the ground.

He grinned, maniacally, as his victim coughed and sputtered with his last breath before slumping to a heap on the end of Feth. Landing lightly on the ground, he threw the man off the end of Feth, watching as his limp body smashed against the side of a small house.

The villagers entered into an uproar. Panic-stricken, they ran about screaming and flailing their arms as though they could keep away the spectre that had wrought this deed upon them.

He smirked, admiring his handiwork, and shifted into invisibility, for, as the crimson light faded, so too did his image.[/CENTER][/SIZE][/COLOR][/FONT]
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[FONT=Arial][CENTER][B][COLOR=DarkRed][SIZE=3]Chapter Two: Faint White[/SIZE][/B]

[SIZE=2]He had been running since daylight first broke over the horizon. There was no reason for him to run; and yet, he felt compelled to move at such a high speed.

The clouded sky overhead told him that it was going to be a very difficult day; with the cover of the clouds ensuring the sunset would not be crimson, there would be no way for him to move about without detection and to draw upon his supernatural strength. Though he had Feth, it was nearly useless without the crimson light that bathed him in its power.

Although he couldn't draw upon the power of the crimson light to give him strength, his own was enough to get by, at least until the clouds cleared up. His speed and stamina were second to none even without the abilities he could gain otherwise.

He stopped at the edge of a cliff, peering off into the distance. His destination was clear- he was trying to reach what he saw in the distance, where no other man dare tread. His aim was the gate to Hell.

He had heard stories from men at the edge of oblivion, mere idle banter from men he had brought to the brink of destruction, men who had claimed they had been to the gate and had survived. He hadn't believed any of their stories until now.

He jumped into the air, using all the leg strength he could muster, and landed on the ground on his knees with a grunt. His ability to perfect such a high jump was also drained with the failing of the crimson light.

He ran toward the gates, to where he knew them to be, and did not falter in his pace, did not slow for even one second. His feet pounded on the ground, his heart in his chest, as he ran toward something he knew he may not survive.

The clouds parted in a spot directly over his destination, showering the dark and bleak landscape around the gates with bright sunlight.

As he approached the gates to Hell, two pillars of fire shot up from the ground in front of him, creating impassible obelisks of burning air and blocking his path.

"Damn it," he cursed under his breath. "What the hell do I have to do to get into Hell!?"

[I]"You could start by dying, you foolish mortal," [/I] rang a voice from the pillars of fire.

Instantly, the fire dissipated, leaving the figure of a man no larger than himself, dressed in jet-black robes and possessing long, yellowed nails on his right hand. Running up and down his right arm were arcane markings, seemingly carved into the flesh and glowing with a red light to reflect the color of the blood beneath. The man had horns on either side of his bare forehead, and his ears came to points at the top. His eyes were a milky-white color, giving the illusion of blindness. Two large, leathery wings sprouted from his back, torn and tattered, and flapped gently in the air keeping the man suspended off the ground. In his left hand he carried a black orb, which gleamed with an ominous light.

"Did you think you could get into Hell alive?"

"I do not need to live to exist."

"So what I see before me is nothing more than a spectre, a mere shade of reality? And what of your weapon, spirit? Is it, too, an illusion?"

"You have no right to call me a spectre, demon. You yourself are nothing more than a shadow of life, a crude attempt at the resurrection of a soul through Necromancy. You, demon, are nothing more than a reanimated corpse with a soul made from pure, dark magic. As for my spear, this is the only part of me that is truly incarnated in this realm. I am what was created when the soul in the spear tried to manifest itself in this world. I am only a spirit, yes, but I am more alive than you. This spear is my true body."

The demon laughed, letting his feet graze the ground for a quick moment before he shot into the air. the sky turned black, and lightning dropped around Feth.

"Demon! Where have you gotten to?"

"You cannot kill what you cannot reach, spectre. You will soon see that it was better for you to have stayed in Hell!"

The demon dove toward the ground, toward Feth, his lips drawn back and revealing his razor-like teeth. The orb he carried flew behind him, gleaming with a faint violet light, seemingly keeping the clouds from fading.

The demon struck at Feth as he narrowly avoided its claws, jumping backward and pulling his spear from his back.

It flew into the air again, this time staying in Feth's sight, and stopped for a second before diving toward him again. Feth struck at the demon with his spear, striking only thin air.

Feth scowled, jumping from his position into the air while at the same time propelling himself forward. In the middle of his jump, he felt a sharp pain in his back.

"A spectre you are, but yet I can still strike you down. Be you physical manifestation or dream, I can still kill you!" The demon cackled, throwing Feth to the ground and landing on his chest. He placed his knees on Feth's arms, preventing him from striking back, and began to strangle Feth. His nails dug into Feth's throat, spilling his blood on the ground.

From the corner of his eye, Feth saw something silvery strike the black orb which hovered to the left of the demon. In the distance, flying just above the gates, Feth could barely make out a white winged figure- an angel, he perceived it to be.

As soon as the black orb was struck, the clouds overhead broke, revealing the crimson light of the sunset.

Feth smirked, disappearing into the air. The demon, both shocked and angered, shot to his feet.

Feth pick up his spear from where it had dropped, rushing toward the demon and placing his spear between its feet. He thrust upward, throwing the demon into the sky and causing it to lose its balance. As it rose higher in to the sky, it could only flail about as Feth repeatedly stabbed it from every side, appearing out of thin air and rising ever higher. With each strike of his spear, the demon shot higher into the air.

Finally, after several dozen strikes, Feth struck the demon in the chest with his spear, rocketing it downward. It hit the ground with such force that it created a valley where it landed.

Feth landed lightly on the ground, and faded into invisibility, charging toward the gate to Hell and silently thanking the assistant who had helped him.[/SIZE][/COLOR][/CENTER][/FONT]
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