Alucard's Story

As the Huntress sailed through the skies firing indiscriminately at it's surroundings, and especially up into the Aschen Ship. Melanie would likely find her missiles ineffective as they impacted a strange white distortion high in the skies.

Adjacent to the chaos, a strange ship seemingly made from light shimmered into existence. With a strange space-time distortion, the Huntress would find itself contained by a strange shimmering barrier of energy. Inside which her ship was suspended in a strange ether.

Adjacent to Melanie, a strange shimmering being appeared besides her. Zee had intervened on the attempted attack.

"This is not the place to test your skills. Please depart in peace."

Arya turned her attention to the mysterious figure approaching her, she was paying attention when she was fighting off something or someone trying to murder her. Most of what she heard seemed to be the usual.

"Alucard? Really? Dracula when backwards. What kind of bullshit is that for the so-called ultimate fanger?" The southern woman asked, seemingly unimpressed by the name. "Fuckers like that tend to succumb to their own arrogance and end up getting probed by the rest of us like an alien abduction."

"Except not as sexy." Sugar Bear called out as he avoided barely being shot by one of the undead holding a musket. "And our apparent allies are trying to murder eachother." He added, prompting Arya to glance up at the Aschen and Varden who engaged each other.

"Oh, for the love of-..." Arya paused to let out a sigh, "Sorry, gonna have to cut this chat short, amigo." The Invictus Elite told the stranger who had approached her earlier. "Veritas, are you getting this? It ain't my department, but I'm pretty that's something that hinders what the fuck we're doing here." Arya said loudly.

"Stryfe should know within the next five minutes, will be accompanied by a recording." Arya was told, though only she and her team would be hearing the voice. It wasn't coming from a radio, but a powerful psychic somewhere on the planet.

Arya still had to get used to that fact and the new meaning it gave to radio silence.

A man in dark tattered shadows materialized behind and to the right of Paragon. Upon the man's hip was a sword but he did not reach to draw it. At the man's feet the tide of chaos and evil parted away but raised to touch the cloak he wore. Above the sounds of battle and the horrific noise of other terrible creatures the keening of the terror imprisoned around the newcomer only added to the cacophony of malevolence.

He did not immediately seem to recognize where he was and looked to the sky were the Huntress sailed. Indeed the missiles launched by the ancient vessel impacted a plane of rippling white to no or little avail. Space and time bubbled, stretched, and distorted as he peered upward and the Huntress would indeed be contained by a strange shimmering barrier unless hasty action was taken. Despite all this excitement the newcomer's face remained unchanged and even though his expression remained indifferent it could not be seen in the first place for he wore a hood and cowl to conceal all but his eyes.

Those steel colored orbs turned down to look over Pargon's right shoulder and to the creature the guardian faced. Through movement of his arm, the touch of evil, or a shift in the winds the light clink of chains sounded even above the evil chorus as the links in his left hand shifted slightly. In total he held a fine chain seven hundred and seventy-seven links long. Among the looped chain were three spikes and five shackles with two of the five being slightly larger than the smallest two and one of the rings being still larger than those. Some present in the city below may have recognized the chain by its metal if not by its make for it had been forged from one broken link of the bindings used once to imprison a great enemy a very long time ago. The metal was no less strong or holy than it had been upon its creation despite the eternity it had spent in the pit and in the bitter waters of the Cocytus.

Spirits whispered to the wind in hushed tones that would be missed by most among the unholy chorus. "And I saw an angel come down from heaven, having the key of the bottomless pit and a great chain in his hand.", they whispered. Among the rising evil the newcomer seemed to be a bastion that neither approached nor retreated, neither presented an outright threat or a target. He remained where he was, exactly as he was, waiting.

"Let us see if you can tame the Bird of Hermes!" Vladimar sneered. The number of impaled victims that surrounded them continued to grow as they spoke.

He took a step forward with his large metal boot and vanished with a blur of ebony and crimson. A whirlwind screamed passed Paragon. Vladimar materialized behind the being with his dark runeblade in full swing at an upward angle. The vampire king stood with his feet just passed his shoulder width and his forward toe pointing towards Paragon. Meanwhile, a dark runic pentagram was slowly carved into the stone roof. Demonic chaotic energy rippled from the rune as it took form.

--------------------

A blinding flash of light interrupted the writhing darknes that choked the city. The fog and undead were cast aside from the explosion of divine energy. From the light emerged a winged being that resonated with holy light. He was clad in divinely crafted steel armor and a dark hood that was pulled over his face. Long feathered wings spread out from him as he hovered over the landscape.

The Archangel Mikha'el flashed his sword. It burned through a dozen undead like parchment in the furnace as it radiated with a golden light. He had heard the cries of Man, and had descended from On High to lend his blade to their defense. Mikha'el lifted his hand towards the Svalinn and fortified their psionic shield with a powerful light ward. Undead that clashed with the ward were instantly incinerated.

"Strengthen thyself and rest." the Archangel called out over the chaos, "but do not tarry, for my ward will not last long against this unholy legion."

A figure fumbled his way though the fighting, muttering to himself, looking to the skies with his crimson mask. Some of the undead had gotten in his way, the preacher's mouth formed a thin line and swung his electrified mace though the stinking creatures, booting others that had dodged him, treating them like a game of brutal hacky-sack.

One of the zombies grappled with him as he ran up a fire escape, it wrestled for his throat, settling for his a chunk of his lip and a spray of viscous red blood splattered the railing, Vicar screamed with fury and seized the thing by the ears and swung its head against the railing, slamming it repeatedly until the very foundations of the fire escape started to rattle dangerously.

The blood didn't stop the trail of words. "And come the fall of blessed sun." Vicar stormed up the fire escape, seeing his savior fighting with the vampire, he'd never have that kind of power, he was but a man. Vicar brought up his wrist to wipe the blood and spit off his torn face.

"They raved across the night." Vicar brought up his pace, skidding across the roof, ignoring the stinging pain in his face and pushing a battery into his mace and then took a blind leap of faith. "To torment, murder, steal, corrupt." The priest went flying down the gap, bringing his hand up to catch the edge of the roof haul himself up.

The preacher spat onto stony roof, seeing this attempt on his saviors life and charged forward with the zeal of a man with nothing left to lose, bringing his electrified mace in a crackling arc to smash the vampire lord's face in, confident in the Paragon's ability to avoid harm.

Vicar had no words, but to scream his rage. The violent priest wasn't going to survive this night anyway, that bite would ruin him.

A figure fumbled his way though the fighting, muttering to himself, looking to the skies with his crimson mask. Some of the undead had gotten in his way, the preacher's mouth formed a thin line and swung his electrified mace though the stinking creatures, booting others that had dodged him, treating them like a game of brutal hacky-sack.

One of the zombies grappled with him as he ran up a fire escape, it wrestled for his throat, settling for his a chunk of his lip and a spray of viscous red blood splattered the railing, Vicar screamed with fury and seized the thing by the ears and swung its head against the railing, slamming it repeatedly until the very foundations of the fire escape started to rattle dangerously.

The blood didn't stop the trail of words. "And come the fall of blessed sun." Vicar stormed up the fire escape, seeing his savior fighting with the vampire, he'd never have that kind of power, he was but a man. Vicar brought up his wrist to wipe the blood and spit off his torn face.

"They raved across the night." Vicar brought up his pace, skidding across the roof, ignoring the stinging pain in his face and pushing a battery into his mace and then took a blind leap of faith. "To torment, murder, steal, corrupt." The priest went flying down the gap, bringing his hand up to catch the edge of the roof haul himself up.

The preacher spat onto stony roof, seeing this attempt on his saviors life and charged forward with the zeal of a man with nothing left to lose, bringing his electrified mace in a crackling arc to smash the vampire lord's face in, confident in the Paragon's ability to avoid harm.

Vicar had no words, but to scream his rage. The violent priest wasn't going to survive this night anyway, that bite would ruin him.

Just when it seemed Vladimar would decapitate Paragon before the fighting had even begun, the cloaked warrior swung his sword over his head, parrying the attack before it could reach his neck. Glaring white met black sanguine as the two blades collided.

Side-stepping gracefully, Paragon threw the Blood King's sword off his own with a light thrust at the hilt, weaving beneath the blade's edge and delivering a series of quick but accurate slices at the vampire's frame, mostly concentrated around his arms and legs. Curiously, Paragon seemed to be avoiding Vladimar's more vital areas. He seemed more intent on crippling the vampire than he did kill him.

His movements were fluid and wispy, like the shadow of an insect flitting nimbly from point to point. He never stood still enough to match Vladimar muscle-for-muscle, but seemed content to adopt a 'parry and evade' tactic. That said, he was quick. Very quick. As agile and dexterous as any skilled swordsman could be. His feet made strange patterns across the forming pentagram, moving between the triangular shapes with terrifying grace. The toes of his boots scraped between the folds of the red star...

---

Back on the ground, the NPA (and hopefully, the other allies) were taking advantage of the mysterious angel's brief stem of the tide. Enforcers scrambled to get the remaining civilians to safety, finish off the stragglers that still remained and re-fortify their position.

"Drop team, put the packages on target!" a sergeant roared, "energize those mids!"

A small squad of Paladin Fighters roared over the city, a dozen circular pods ejecting from their undersides and smashing into the asphalt below. They made a circular perimeter around the hell portal and lay still and quiet for a few moments... before flaring up in a wave of vibrant green. All at once, a plasma shield flared up around the conflict center, re-enforcing the Svalinn with another layer of protection. When Mikha'el's holy barrier fell, the plasma shield would incinerate whatever the Svalinn couldn't keep back.

"All allies, stay away from the green," the sergeant spoke into the comm, "we've got hot plasma contact. Quarantine is in effect."

Vladimar's blade lashed at Paragon like a viper filled with uncanny agility and rage. He glanced to the side as Vicar's mace collided with his cheek. Bone splintered and blood poured from his mutilated eye. The vampire king retained his footing and assaulted Paragon with countless slashes and thrusts. Paragon's blows met their mark unanimously if not scathed the unholy knight's armor. Blood dripped from numerous gashes across Vladimar's body as the abominable legion flowed from the hellish darkness beneath his tattered cloak.

"Heh heh hah..." Vladimar snickered as he slid to the opposite side of the roof. He supported his massive frame with the girth of his blade. The vampire king looked up at the three figures before him. An eerie crimson glow resonated from his smashed hollow eye socket. "Heh heh hah... hehehehehah... HAHAHAHAHAHAH! Yes... Now things are getting a bit more fun."

Vladimar straightened himself to his full height, towering over the average man. Bones reshaped and snapped into place as senew and muscle tissue regenerated. New flesh filled in the deep wounds left by Paragon's blade. Skin stretched and smoothed over the healed wounds like a fresh coat of paint.

"You're fast... I'll give you that." he said as he glanced down to the battle field. "It appears the dogs have gotten some help... No matter. They have seen but a fraction of the armies at my command!"

"Ego vocare te..." his voice thundered across the winds. "... legiones inferni! Audient vocern Vladimar!"

His cloak snapped into the air as if cast by a violent gale. The tides of darkness that flowed from it intensified tenfold like a broken flood gate. As the Boiling Phlegethon channeled through the vampire king, so did the countless souls that were bound to his will. They spilled out by the thousands, flooding the streets, sidewalks, and lower floors of the buildings beneath them. The terror and chaos that drenched the city seemed to only fuel the unholy tide.

"Principatus noche bestia!" he cried as he stretched out his gauntlet towards the regrouping army. A low rumble resonated from below the streets. The manholes flipped. Rats swarmed from the nether regions of the city and casted confusions between the feet of the soldiers. Seconds passed before the air and ground filled with all manner of vile creatures - cockroaches, flies, bats, crickets, spiders, and scorpions.

Vladimar finally returned his attention to Paragon and his cultist. "Now..." the vampire king smirked as he gripped his runeblade in both hands. "Let us see how fast you are..."

He charged with a strike of crimson lightning as he brought his blade down with a wicked slash. Vladimar vanished again, reappearing on the opposite side of the roof, before charging again. This motion continued. Faster and faster. Charge. Slash. Evade. Charge. His speed quickened. Was he in two places at once, or was that a trick of the eye?

As his brutal assault intensified, the hellish rune glowed with a dark red glimmer. It was nearly complete. The rune drank the blood offering greedily, but its hunger could not be sated. In order for the ritual to complete, it required the blood of something more... immortal.

-----

When Mikha'el's barrier shattered, the Archangel ripped through the air. He scooped up a fleeing family just before the plasma fell. His wings folded tightly to protect them from the liquid fire.

"Magen!" his voice rung with divine authority as he stretched out a hand towards a soldier pinned beneath a toppled car. A radiance surrounded the man, shielding him from all harm.

Mikha'el rose to his feet when the ordeal passed. The rescued family thanked him before resuming their flight. He scanned the battlefield with his eagle-like vision. Though the familiars were destroyed from the plasma, the chaotic energy remained. Then, as the renewed and greater wave flowed from the skyscraper, he took to the sky. The Archangel's wings unfolded like a battle standard as the grip around his sword tightened.

"Stand fast, Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve!" his voice boomed. "Stand fast and show no fear to this devil! Your fear will only weaken thyself and strengthen thy foe. Though we walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, we will fear no evil! Be as unto David slaying his tens of thousands in the name of righteousness! Feel neither fear nor weariness! For I, Mikha'el the Guardian, leader of the Archangels, bestow my blessing upon thee!"

Paragon retreated, his weapon a blurring frenzy as he desperately attempted to parry Vladimar's superhuman flurry of strikes. For a few brief moments, his form held, white sword meeting black blade blow for blow. The moon warrior leaped gracefully across the rooftop, matching Vladimar's brutish speed with dexterous agility.

Of course, he couldn't last. The Blood King, empowered by the chaotic energies reaped from the souls of countless innocents, was far too quick. The first slash landed across his back, slicing through his cloak and a layer of the thick fiber-armor beneath. Paragon fought on, unphased, delivering two quick counter-attacks at Vladimar's shoulder and waist. He was following through for a back-handed swing across the vampire's torso when he felt a hot burning over his calves. By the gods, HOW had he attacked there? He'd been right in his line of sight the whole time. It was almost as if he were fighting two or three opponents at once.

Back stepping, Paragon traced a pattern with his foot and the end of the pentagram, stepping forward to once again face his opponent. He didn't even parry a single strike. Two slashes across his pectorals. One over his hamstring. A burning swathe of hellfire crawled over his shoulder and into his back, welting the skin beneath. He staggered briefly beneath the pain before rising to his feet... only to have the armor on his torso ripped open by a mighty downward slice.

Paragon stumbled backwards, growling as he hit the floor. His bare chest, bruised and wilted, was exposed to Vladimar's view. He lay on the ground, struggling to rise, breathing heavily. His body was conveniently positioned in the direct center of the pentagram.

---

The Enforcers, meanwhile, were fighting harder than ever. Spurred on by Mikha'el's example and beset on all sides with a host of allies, they struggle to contain the new wave of madness unleashed by the Blood King. The plasma shield did its work, incinerating the grunts before they even reached the streets and damaging the stronger champions as they pooled out, hot plasma scathing their bodies with every step. Flaring white barrages of purging ether met the offenders at every turn, bringing them down in scores. The newly-killed bodies of the dead filled the streets.

Evil had upped the ante, but so had the defenders.

Zephaniel looked with happiness as he managed to secure the building below him. Though he nearly fell off the rooftop when sensed a familiar aura. He turned to see the Leader of the Archangels. He who is like God, Saint Mikha'el. He never suspected he would appear. Though he was not upset that he did. Surely Mikha'el will turn the battle into God's favor. He has always done so in times of great duress. He unleashed a powerful ward to keep the chaos at bay. Zephaniel had great confidence in him, though he worried he may spot him. It is not his job to assist in major battles like these. His duty is to strike down those who hide in shadows. To silently fight for God in the Dark.

He worried Mikha'el may be upset with him being out in the open like this. Technically he isn't to make himself known. It is crucial to have secrecy and the element of surprise in his work. Which is why he was allowed to roam the mortal plane at any time. In fact they highly recommend he spends little time in Heaven. Still, he could not ignore what is occurring here. Besides any demons that may have been here must have left. Or at the very least well hidden. With the amount of evil energy the Blood King is emitting, he would have no luck sensing a demon in all this mess.

It was then the ward broke and the situation grew worse. A new wave of evil has risen, and more spawns from the Boiling River. To call upon such wicked power, is to be like a Demon Lord. He then harkened the Archangel's call. Just like in the days of yore, Mikha'el's speeches always rallied the troops of both Heaven and Man alike. He was glad they were empowered and hopefully they will charge with invigorated strength. That they may smite this evil that has flooded on the mortal plane. He had not payed much attention, but upon the rooftop of where this started, he could see a few individuals upon there. For the most part they seemed to fight The Blood King head on. But appear to be losing. He worried for them, but the warriors seem very skilled. Though it seems The Blood King is greater. He saw the other forces containing and saving more lives. He considered entering the fray, but direct assaults are not his specialty. Though the circumstances as they are, may make it difficult to approach covertly. Perhaps Mikha'el will try his hand? For now Zephaniel lept off the rooftops and entered the streets once again.

Vicar wasn't as speedy as the two freakishly powerful gods, his arms struggling to scamper across the roofs, lashing out with his legs until he caught up with them. The priest looked upon his savior with despair upon his permanent scowl. If the Paragon died, so would he, a man with nothing to lose.

The missionary frowned underneath his helmet, checking his chest for the only counter to the absurd amount of power this creature had, a pair of frag grenades strapped to his vest. "Though you, I found purpose." Vicar screamed, spittle and blood splattering the concrete roof, waving his mace into the air and charged forward.

Vicar dropped his mace, throwing it to the ground with a loud clatter, finger glancing across the pin of one of the grenades, careful not to pull the pin as he swung himself forward to grab Alucard by the chin with one hand and deposit the now live grenade into his mouth.

There was no phrase to scream, no religion to preach, no psalm that fit this matyrdom.

"DIE, DIE, DIE."

The stranger standing upon the roof top and watching the fight ensue between Vladimar, Paragon, and Vicar had not budged until this moment. He had not spoke or acted in any hostile way to anyone upon the roof or on the ground. The only warning of his impending action was the cracking of the reinforced cement slab upon which they stood. His rear right foot pivoted and his weight shifted.

The sound of the chain held in his right hand, crystal wind chimes, beauty amid the slaughter. His steely eyes traced Paragon's form and each point of the pentagram before returning to the servant of the moon, Vladimar, and then Vicar as the mortal man attempted to grapple with the Blood King and shove a grenade down his throat.



Five interceptor drones were the first of the Varden units to arrive. Heavy rail-gun fire started to turn the mass of flesh, chaos and blood into exploded refuse and craters as each drone fired on its initial pass and spun away. The air vibrated as windows burst and teeth chattered in skulls, both living and dead with the power of each automatic burst. It sounded more like terrible chainsaws and less like weapons' fire.

Vladimar laughed cruelly as Paragon collapsed in the center of the pentagram. He slammed his boot onto his chest while he stretched out his hand. The vampire king attempted to catch Vicar by the throat as he lunged. He would then slam the human onto the broken body of Paragon before attempting to thrust his blade through both of their bellies. His runeblade, Sangentis the Blood Drinker, pierced flesh, soul, and the focal point of the rune. Vladimar twisted the sword like a great key in the enchanted stone. A cage of chaotic lightning surrounded the Blood King as the pentagram resonated with a hellish glow. It burned like a crimson spotlight stretching into the sky, heralding an ill omen. Each of the impaled human sacrifices screamed and writhed in agony as the energies multiplied. The blood drained from their bodies and filled the crevices of the massive rune.

"Your blood shall open the gate..." he said. "and your life essence will be clay to be molded like steel in the furnace of Hell!"

----

Meanwhile, Mikha'el flew at the helm of the Terran guard. His sword shined like the sun as it cleaved through the summoned spirits and demons by the hundreds with the full wrath of Heaven. Darkness fled from the tongues of golden flame that ignited across the ground in his presence. He lashed out with divine fury as he defended the humans.

"Arise, shine," he cried above the battle field, "for your light has come, and the glory of Adonai has risen upon you! For behold, darkness shall cover the earth, and thick darkness the peoples; but Adonai will arise and His glory will be seen! Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened and do not be dismayed, for Adonai Elohim is with you wherever you go!"

Paragon groaned as he felt Vicar's body slam into his own. He smelled the musky scent of sweat mingled with flesh. Human flesh. A mortal man...

He saw the glaring red of the blade flash above them both; felt the hellish pulse of chaos resonate inside the unholy sword. In a few moments, it would impale them both, sending a shockwave of nefarious energy through both of their bodies. He might survive it. Perhaps. He had the tools, the medicine...

...but the man? No. Not a chance. He had no armor like his. No shields. No defensive mechanisms. Sangentis would tear through him with viscous glee and strip his very soul from his flesh... he would die in agony.. he would die undefended...

"NO!" he roared, mustering his strength and pouring the whole of his being into one last blurring movement. With incredible speed, Paragon would attempt to throw Vicar off of his body just as the blade was coming down. The sword would meet only one of its intended victims, slicing through Paragon's side and sticking him to the ground. Blood poured from the wound in rivers. Red blood. Warm blood.

And as Paragon lay beneath Vladimar's sword, bleeding, beaten and broken, he looked up at the vampire king from beneath the hem of his mask with mysterious intent. He might have been smiling.

"...now... you're mine..." he hushed, his fists clenching. Suddenly, the pentagram surrounding them began to glow; a soft lunar white above the glaring red of Vladimar's previous spell. Markings began to take shape around the triangles; strange shapes and symbols took form. The wilted rose. The evening star. The crescent moon.

Perhaps most interesting was the shape of the pentragram as a whole. Paragon had re-traced the entire spell circle in his fight with Vladimar, but he'd added another triangle to the end of the star. A hexegram. A summoning tool. A world-bridge. Paragon hadn't manipulated or stopped Vladimar's spell, but had simply built his own atop it, using the chaotic energies resonating from the roof as a foundation. Now the symbol glared with furious power, feeding off of Vladimar's darkness, empowering itself with the very sustenance of his own evil authority...

And then all at once, it activated. The spell finalized, the glowing energy spiraling around the four figures and trying to send them all away... attempting to whisk them to...

...someplace else...

A deep shadow fell over the woods as a thick blanket of fog swallowed the underbrush. Hushed voices and distant wails of agony drifted through the branches. Thunderous rattling, the clashing of steel, and muffled shouts whispered across the breeze. As the eerie sounds of battle intensified, a runic pentagram was slowly etched into the dirt. The earth blackened, withered, and died from the chaotic energies that resonated from the rune.

Let us see if you can tame the Bird of Hermes!

The demonic blight crept across the ground as the rune took shape. Crimson streaks of lightning danced between the lines. Shadows writhed in the presence of the emerging dark power.

Your blood shall open the gate... and your life essence will be clay to be molded like steel in the furnace of Hell!

... Now... You're mine...

Cosmic energies began to swirl and fold, escalating into a swirling vortex of purple, blue, red, and gold that forged a violent tempest. The energies and darkness churned, gathered, dissipated, and thundered like a raging sea storm as a funnel in the fabric of space and time formed. Shadows shuddered in both fear and reverence around the maelstrom. The silhouettes of numerous figures formed within the vortex.

Paragon and the Bird of Hermes were not the only ones who had been transported from that roof top in the city. There still stood at the edge of the pentagram the silent figure draped in shadows. He was the one to act now for to delay any further for the hopes or actions of others would be folly, the desired outcome and fork would fall from his grasp, his purpose would be unfulfilled.

That man's foot slammed the earth, cracking about the rune even as it took shape and he leaned forward, his left arm darting up to throw the chain forth, one of those spikes leading the way. Lightning arced between ground and linked cord, splitting the air with liquid flame in its wake as the object tore across the short distance. It was not through added skill, trickery, or some supernatural property of the chain that the metal stake dragged lightning and fire in its wake. The sheer speed and force of the throw caused it to split the air so violently that these two symptoms were the evidence of weapon's passing. The dirt melted, glassed to red as the chain passed over it.

The metal stake was not alone in its violent press forward. The cloaked figure followed it, another spike held in his left palm, cracked earth, lightning, and fire also dragging in his wake. He would attempt to force it through the vampire's stomach, just after the thrown stake would pierce the creature's left breast if the assault was left undefended.

Re-forged from single link of a chain originally fashioned and employed to bind an entity far more malevolent, malicious, cunning, and powerful than the Impaling Prince, the chain's holy metal would cause the vampire terrible pain but it could not kill him for Alucard was truly immortal. It could be that Alucard would survive unto the end of this reality and beyond it but just because something could not die did not mean that it could not be held forever in chains. That implement was the perfect tool for capture for whatever form this Monster of Monster's chose to take the links would hold him. The bindings would contain him for they had been tested by the craftiest enemy over millennia. So it would be if this man who was obviously not a man had the mettle.

The whole of the ruined circle shook and shifted violently under those within it, rotating nearly a full quarter turn so that one of the points of the pentagram faced north. This act completely reversed the meaning of the rune. It was now a holy symbol embodying connection of five interconnected virtues tied to a group of five. Though some may recognize the connection to the Five Wounds of Christ, the five virtues of knighthood, or the four elements with the fifth: spirit, bound together with a circle. They all resided now within the field of a holy symbol containing and constricting unholy forces.

Paragon leaped back as Dyew made his sudden and unexpected attack. He was still breathing heavily, though he was no longer bleeding. The hex teleport had taken a considerable toll on his energy reserves, and he was in little condition to spar with Vladimar as he had previously. Still. He'd done it. He'd literally just sent them all warping through an alternate dimension. Only God knew where they were now...

The moon warrior quickly set to finding the human that had been unfortunate enough to have been caught in his spell. The mental strain of warping so suddenly would have had an injurious affect on his mind, and he may have been unconscious.

As the High Warden did battle with the foul vampire, his connection to his blood tithe hopefully severed under the ungodly psionic weight of his recent transdimensional leap, Paragon set to work in the shadows, hissing only slightly as the pentagram was inverted into a symbol of holy goodness. Though no friend to chaos, Paragon was neither a creature of the Light. Holy energy maimed him just as it would any other demon.

"Are you... are you alright?" Paragon asked Vicar once he'd found him, if he'd found him.

Vicar's brain filled with disbelief and a quiet unyielding anger. His prison buddies bearing down upon him, each with a shank in hand and the blank prison walls constricting him too his fate, they'd gotten sick of his blind preaching, his wanton violence against the others and now they had him in his grip.

Just like that, it was over, and he was back in the worlds of living. The missionary had been whispering lines from the poem in his forced sleep and his entire body stung and stunk of ozone and wreathed in the fallen leaves until something sounded above him.

Vicar suddenly remembered the active grenade he had primed and wondered where it had went, they might've been deities beyond his mortal comprehension who would be immune to such folly, but he wasn't. Vicar looked to his right hand and signed in relief as he grasped and flexed his fingers that surprisingly lacked the object of his worry.

"Cyka." Vicar breathed back, grinding his teeth and he held up a hand to his god, hoping he'd help him up.