Chivalry is Not Dead Until I Choke Out its Final Breath

[Symbiosis]

“Have I told you lately that you‘re really, really boring?” Symbiote muttered as Baxter walked along the path in Concordia forest. The Salvarian native sighed as he usually did when the demon within his soul said anything. Standing little over six foot high was the pen write for the Salvarian Herald, Baxter Arlington. A man of young age who had learned the hard way that when you should never deal with demons.

Enter said demon, Symbiote. A demon who had his powers and body sealed away by an insane wizard, and now is forced to travel the land with whatever ride he could find. The two had met in a dark corner of Knife’s Edge in Salvar, the human drunk as a Coronian skunk and babbling endlessly about how he will never find the love of his life. Symbiote, nothing more than a pool of goop at the time, slithered his way forward like a snake and tempted young Baxter with promises to find his soul mate.

Well, he got it. Symbiote bonded his essence with Baxter’s, and the two were inseparable as far as the human could tell. They had just finished a round of bouts in the Citadel, both demon and human exhausted as they fought a crazy Akashiman by the name Blank, a shadowmancer by the name Abaraxos, and a human mercenary by the name Mask. All three had proven to show a unique set of complications for the two to overcome, and each challenge was met with eager anticipation by the demon, and full cowardice by the human.

Now however, they walked. Walked for two days at this point towards Gisela using a short cut they had learned about from a bar named Ashley’s. Many a traveler had stated there was a path to Gisela that would cut the time to arrive by a week, but you had to fight the so called River Knight of Blackbriar. The man was supposedly so good at guarding the Thole bridge that crossed over the river Blackbriar that nobody traveled there anymore. Some had said the king himself ordered the knight to hold the bridge until reinforcements arrived. Some say it is there he buried his wife who died because he left her side just once. Others say he is a demon inhabiting a suit of armor.

That piqued Symbiote’s interest. The demon was searching for anything that could have to do with the nameless wizard who stripped him from his body. The two had learned the insane mage had taken other demon’s souls and bound them to any object he saw fit. One such example being Fateweaver, a demonette that was bound inside a fountain pen that Baxter found on a ferry to Corone. For safety, and because one demon was more than he could handle at any given time he had placed the female demon inside his satchel.

Still, Baxter wasn’t sure why he was heading through the heavy forest path that was clearly abandoned. The brush had several clumps of spider webs as thick as a marshmallow, and the creatures that stayed in the area seemed to be only those that hunted in the night. The tree line was heavy as well, blotting out the sun with ease so only the barest traces managed to pierce the veil. Baxter did not like this place one bit.

“I thought you were some story teller,” Symbiote yawned. “Tell me a ghost story.”

“I’m ignoring you,” Baxter reminded the demon with anger. Naturally, when the demon heard about this knight fellow he wanted to go investigate immediately, which was exactly the opposite of what Baxter wanted to do. However, the demon had ways to make sure he got his way, and the three nights of endless nightmares at last made the pen write cave in to Symbiote’s wants.

“No you aren’t, cause you just replied to me,” Symbiote sassed like a petulant child. The Salvarian sighed again, as he had no other sound he could make when dealing with the demon. “Come on, ghost story time, tell me a good one!”

“I don’t really care for those,” Baxter chided. “As you know I very much like to avoid danger, and the stories of people in terrifying situations do not interest me,” Baxter looked ahead and thought he heard running water. “Though, I suppose there is someone I can talk about.”

“Go on,” Symbiote urged, swirling around in Baxter’s body like an ethereal host.

“I have read stories in the Herald of a woman, a very dark woman who’s soul is so black even demons steer clear. She has hair blacker than midnight, hazel eyes that could turn blood to ice, and a vile, dark twisted smile that enticed your nerves but began the human emotions for panic. She’s like a carefully moving spider, and everything she does merely lulls you into her web. She’s a hunter of the dark, a predator who terrorizes even the shadows she hides in. Her name is like a terrible curse word, and few dare to speak in case she is listening.”

Symbiote seemed to be enjoying his descriptions as he moved quicker and quicker. “She has a hobby, a, a playtime so to speak. She ensnares her victims and strips them of their clothing, but also their dignity. Her kitchen tools cut only death, carving the flesh as she laughs wildly into the night. Many a name has fallen beneath her blades, including one of the Hex Magi Serenity Dahlios. Rumors are she was the daughter of Seth Dahlios,”

“The Lavinian demon?” Symbiote said excitedly. “Ouu, she is a dark one to fuck with that guy.”

“She keeps them alive, drawing out their agony as they scream for her their regrets. It’s like some sick torture ritual to make them repent for their sins, but she does not to rid the world of evil, but because only does the cries of the damned make a pitch she enjoys.”

“Who is she?” Symbiote asked. “Say her name, I wanna meet her!”

“I don’t know,” Baxter replied casually. “She’s known by many names; Gisela Reaper, Moonlit Mistress, Midnight Monster. The land of Akashima call her the Moon Demon in their tongue, while the islands of Black Archipelago call her the Archipeligo Assassin. She’s also known as the Fallien Desert Rose, and the Salvarian Slayer. Her name is legion, Baxter.”

“She must really enjoy what she does.”

“Rumors were she worked for Sei Orlouge, but I highly doubt the Ixian Knights would hire ilk like that.” There was a snap that filled the air, and Baxter suddenly looked up. His heart softly began to beat as he searched for the owner of the noise, but nothing seemed to present itself.

“Ouu, I like this story now,” Symbiote growled. Baxter looked forward and saw the Thole bridge, a slight sigh of relief passing his lips. There was no knight, just a well made bridge that looked unused to the passing of time. Baxter lifted a hand upwards.

“There you see? Nothing! I bet only bandits made up this story to spook innocent passers into giving them money. You got worked up for nothing,” Baxter said smartly as he looked to his chest. The fog started to softly roll in, which was odd considering it was only two in the afternoon at his guess, but he was busy being smug that he proved the demon wrong.

“I’d look again, Binky boy,” Symbiote hissed as he started to swirl faster than before. “Because either that’s the Gisela Reaper, or our Knightly friend.”

Sure enough as the fog passed through the bridge the sound of heavy metal plates clanking against each other filled the air, a long coat of chain mail linked underneath as his knightly visor looked upon him like he were an insect. He stood with a regal grace, a steel looking hammer before his feet held upside down so the head rested on the cobblestone, one hand resting over the other as he looked to Baxter.

“Oh crap,” Baxter whined realizing he was once again going to be dragged into something he had no intention of doing.

[Mutant_Lorenor]

Time.

It marched ever onward and sealed the doom of men. Lorenor found a place in Corone, The Empire proved to be quite profitable to N'Jal. His lady. The mutant was on his way to Thole Bridge in order to investigate the latest job that was placed on his mantle. Of course, he was the herald of N'Jal and so, he kept his goddess with him at all times. He kept an eye on the distance, feeling several other presences from the inhabitants of Concordia. Lorenor smiled at that knowledge, the knight had taken up residence on The Thole Bridge and was causing problems for his benefactors. As an Enforcer, the mutant would do his master's bidding.

For ultimately, the master's bidding was the work of N'Jal. And the work of N'Jal was scripture. He walked in silence as he made his way towards The Thole Bridge. It was a famous landmark, and there were many stories of dark tidings happening about the landmark. Lorenor traveled alone when he was acting as an Enforcer of The Viceroys. Though he could call upon a harem of the undead if needed, for he was The Grand Primus. The mutant wore his high priest's robes and the symbols of N'Jal were emblazoned upon them darkly. Each symbol was actually a rune etched upon the fabric that would one day serve a purpose other than simple decoration.

Lorenor walked tall despite the lack of height. He stood at a mere five feet in height, but was built like a small tank. His undead anatomy allowed for him to comfortably weigh in about two hundred pounds! Though it was the cause of the necromantic energies that swelled within his demonic body. Lorenor smiled as he walked, he could hear the word of N'Jal whispering quietly in his mind. It was a subtle whisper, in a language he instinctively knew how to translate due to his nature as a Spider Magi. Drawing his sword, Lorenor could tell that he was close now. The Thole Bridge was just over a hill he was crossing, trees surrounding him from all angles.

The dirt beneath him was packed tightly. He crushed small flowers as he moved, his mind ever searching for traps or other dangers of Concordia. He had more to fear from the thieves of Concordia Forest, than an idle knight. However, his connection, nay, his employer within The Empire's ranks swore that the fellow he was hunting had adequate objects on his person to serve as payment for said hunting job. As Lorenor drew eternally closer to The Thole Bridge, the mutant paused his approach. There was another presence, a darkness that he could detect nearby and within his sensory grid. He had no idea what that darkness was, but it lulled him for a moment or two. When that happened, the high priest said a silent prayer of atonement to N'Jal.

She accepted his plea for forgiveness.

As Lorenor approached the knight and that stranger, the high priest kept his sword at the ready. He knew, from what his contact had told him, that the target was dangerous. Lorenor began to chant in the back of his mind as he focused on the living dark. Funneling his power, the mutant felt the energy cascade around his weapon. Lorenor was not one to assist others, so he considered that they were both targets unless the situation changed. He needed the head of the knight to claim his reward for a job well done. On his way to becoming an Enforcer for The Empire, Lorenor had to work hard to gain a badly needed reputation.

As the energy focused, the dark burned the grass and trees that were nearby. It sent off a corrosive aspect to the living energies of Concordia that were corrupt in nature. Lorenor knew this because N'Jal knew this. When the energy started to crackle powerfully around the blade, he pointed it in the general direction of one of the two men. He figured that the armoured man was his target. Then, he pointed his blade away from the armoured man, and towards the general direction of the man, Baxter. Baxter was now his target. Releasing the mental floodgates, he let loos'ed the potent shadow-bolt that would commence the battle. He wanted to strike Baxter down for his interference in matters that were of The Empire.

Lorenor would ride out the wave of power that cascaded from within. It was a dark purple and black inky substance. Burning through the air, it choked the pure oxygen out of it as it singed through. It was like a hammer that would potentially strike an unsuspecting foe. The bolt traveled quickly as it was fully charged thanks to Lorenor taking the initiative. There was no warning, no battlecry, only an attack. Lorenor always acted in the name of N'Jal, and N'Jal had declared that the knight was an enemy.

Woe to all who interfered with The Grand Primus on that hour.

[Glass]

Ardaen Razir stepped off from the back of the wagon as it slowed to a stop, pausing for all of an instant to watch as the rest of the caravan came to a halt as well.

We must be nearby, she thought to herself, moving around the carriage just as one of its side doors swung open. Patiently, Ardaen waited for the man inside the stagecoach to exit, maintaining a stoic composure as he stumbled forward, nearly falling to the road.

The man, a merchant by the name of Neron Fairmen, took a few moments to study the sky and his surroundings before turning his attention to Ardaen and putting on his best money-making smile.

“I think we are close enough now that you can go on ahead,” Neron informed, peering over his shoulder. “The Thole Bridge is roughly half a day’s ride from here. As per our agreement I will provide you with a horse, which is to be returned to me once the caravan arrives at the Blackbriar River. Once the Knight is handled and we make it across the bridge, consider your debt to me repaid, Mask.”

Mask nodded slowly, remaining silent for a few moments. Owing favors was something Ardaen rarely cared for. However, had it not been for the merchant Fairmen, she would have likely been imprisoned nearly a year ago now. Because of that, and her own morality, she was indebted to him.

“How long will I have until you begin moving forward again?” Ardaen asked quietly, eying the merchant as she spoke.

Neron laughed, and then shrugged, “Perhaps thirty minutes, more likely an hour.”

More than enough time, Ardaen mused, smiling internally as she watched Neron call for her barrowed mount. When the horse was brought to her, she wasted no time in departing the caravan’s company.


~*~

Cool, steel coated fingers coiled around Baxter’s wrist, gripping him with a familiarity that, as he was pulled forcefully from the path of the oxygen-consuming bolt, made his left shoulder ache from the memory of the last time he and his savior had crossed paths. Being hauled so abruptly across the trail, the pen write was unable to keep his footing well enough to continuing standing, a feat made more difficult as the woman binding his arm shifted her boot forward, directly in the path of his stumbling feet, tripping him. And as he fell to the ground with a solid thud, she released him.

Staring up at the mercenary he had come to know as Mask, Baxter could not help himself but take a moment to marvel at her appearance. Nothing had changed about her since their battle. However, the white tin mask shrouding the upper half of her face and emerald hood casting a deep shadow over it was just as striking as before. Even still, her posture seemed different, more threatening, lethal.

“Master Arlington,” Mask greeted, keeping her voice low. “By your current situation, I assume Symbiote is still with you?” She turned her gaze toward the man poised some ways along the bridge before looking to the other stranger who had attacked Baxter without warrant.

Talk about being caught between a hammer and an anvil, Ardaen thought to herself, her left hand reaching for the furthest of the two daggers lining her belt along that side of her body. I’ve only got a short amount of time to clear this bridge before the caravan arrives. Warily, she continued to look between the two strangers, gauging them each for their potential threat level.

The man on the bridge, who Ardaen guessed to be the Knight, shifted, turning the large weapon he held at rest upward and repositioning into a defensive stance, bringing his impressive shield before him. Looking toward Baxter, who now stood, Mask glided a step to the left, in the direction of her quarry. She did not say anything, but her intentions were clear enough. She was here to fight, and held no reservations about doing so.

((Bunny-Baxter was permitted by Symbiosis via PMs. :) ))

[Symbiosis]

Baxter looked to Mask with a half twitching eye, his very thoughts trying to will her out of existence. The woman who actually stood up to Symbiote was back, and in the same move that saw his own left shoulder completely torn apart she causally reintroduced herself into his life like a passing breeze. When she addressed him by name he knew beyond the shadow of a doubt the woman was real, and she had saved his life.

“Ah, yes,” He said sheepishly. “I still have Symbiote with me, and I can assure you, I don’t want to be here. I‘m not too fond of combat as you know.”

That was a matter that suddenly jolted him awake as he looked across the bridge. The knight stood sideways, keeping his gaze upon all three combatants as he remained calm, not overreacting to the situation. The hammer twirled haphazardly in his hand, his shield held at the ready as he shuffled side to side in a ready stance, refusing to ever be caught off guard. The man on the other side of the bridge looked more like a horridly burned human, but soon he quickly saw the runes and symbols of the Thayne N’Jal, and he could only assume from the infernal script on his robes that he was of some high ranking priestly order of the spider god. Yet before he could appraise this warrior as good or bad, the man simply grinned, turned, and then headed back the way he came.

He looked back to Mask who stood ready, her hand gently lifting as she hovered it over her chest, her fingers steadily moving in a deadly gait. Her other hand neared her hip, and he could see in her stance that this was not going to be another training fight, but the real blood and guts thrill of battle. Her eyes shifted slowly back to Baxter, a small glint of her eyes as if she was waiting for something, but what that was the pen write had no clue.

Yet when a certain someone swirled within his chest he realized exactly what it was she was waiting for. Symbiote was beside himself with a frenzy of motion as his talons raked across the Salvarian’s ribs that imprisoned him within Baxter’s chest. The demon let out a dark howl of a primal power, furiously trying to claw its way out his chest to get to grips with the woman he affectionately called, ‘rabbit‘. With a knowing nod he looked to Mask as she shifted softly forwards, standing as a guard while Baxter looked to his chest.

“You wish to fight?” Baxter blurted quickly. “Make me a deal.”

“ANYTHING!” Symbiote shrieked as he felt the demon trying to claw at Mask. “Let me at her! I wanna rip her fucking arm off and use it as a club against the metal moron!”

“No!” Baxter replied coldly. “You pushed me aside the first time we did this deal, so this time I’m making the terms. If you wish to fight without me getting in the way, then you do things my way!” Symbiote howled in frustration as Baxter lifted his head to Mask. The last time the two had met, the woman had fought with the demon lurking inside Baxter, the Salvarian cutting a deal with the demon to take over. But the problem was the demon did not obey a word Baxter said, and if he had not thought of a plan to trick the demon he could not be sure if Mask would have just saved him.

“I don’t hear you fucking talking,” Symbiote growled irritably. He really was getting worked up to be so close to the woman.

“Leave Mask alone, and fight only the knight. If the other guy gets in our way or harms Mask, then you can attack him as well, but ignore him for now, I do believe he has decided to leave. I just want you to get us through this fight.”

The demon impatiently snarled as the pen write clearly denied the demon what he wanted. Baxter looked up to see the knight looking in his direction, face tilting to the side in contemplation before he squared his shoulders and softly turned. “You let me do whatever it takes, so long as I agree to those terms?” The demon hissed.

“Yes,” Baxter replied with determination.

“Deal!”

The knight looked to Baxter before narrowing his grip, getting ready to charge, but before he or Mask or even the newcomer of N’jal could properly get to grips with the situation Baxter let out a scream of pure torment. His arms exploded in size, resembling two small cannons as his chest took the shape of a barrel. What followed his screams was another sound that echoed in the air, the sick crunch and snap sound of bones cracking and breaking. Baxter’s jaw distended like the maw of a serpent, his teeth growing into long fangs of deadly malice as a long tongue flicked into the air as he silently screamed. When he closed his eyes and opened them again, they were replaced with milky white orbs that narrowed with sinister intent. His fingers grew into sharp, long talons like an eagle as a clear coat of sweat poured from his skin, creating a sort of armor of his flesh. What little of the clothes that Baxter wore were ripped to shreds now, nothing more than tattered remnants of his noble stature.

Symbiote shoved the essence of Baxter’s soul aside, but unlike the last time he did not fully push him away. The brute of a man stalked forwards in a low hunch, like a hunter stalking prey as he walked right behind Mask and leaned his grotesque face just next to her side. He roared a defiant challenge to the knight, an animalistic cry of defiance as he slithered his tongue next to Mask’s ear.

“Don’t worry little rabbit,” Symbiote hissed in a taunting manner. “Chivalry isn’t dead…yet. You just sit back and do what you do best,” The demon chuckled as he brushed up against her left shoulder and approached the knight. "Watch and do nothing," He taunted her.

The knight looked behind himself one more time, just to make sure the threat from behind was no more, but the mutant who represented the Spider Queen had already vanished as quickly as he came, content to let Baxter and Mask handle his problems. Satisfied he would not return, the knight lifted his weapons forwards at the ready, war hammer lifted to his side at the ready, shield held forward near his chest. Each move the knight made was precise, ponderously advancing without fear of the demon/human hybrid that shouted once again like a creature of myth towards the knight. He said nothing, did nothing to show he was even remotely phased by the beast.

Symbiote charged forwards, his body hunched like a predator on the hunt. He rose to his full height bringing his claw like hands downwards aiming for the knights face with a sick cry of mirth. The knight calmly braced one foot back as he swung his hammer outwards, catching Symbiote in the stomach as his fingers only managed to reach the knight's shoulder. His wind quickly left him, and the knight stepped forward lifting his shield inwards only to toss it outwards smiting Symbiote in the face. The demon howled in pain as he twirled to the side, the hammer coming down in a blow that hit the beast behind the knee tripping him so he fell backwards, fallen leaves softening the blow. The knight gripped his weapon with both hands and lifted them up in a deathblow as he aimed it right for Symbiote's barreled chest.

With wind knocked out, tripped and dazed, the demon did not even see the attack coming as it let out a yelp of pain and surprise.

((Okay, so Lorenor was cool enough to let me know he couldn't make the time constraints, so this is now turning to Glass and myself. As such, I needed to really revamp this post. Glass, if you could be so kind as to save my ass, I'd really appreciate it! ))

[Glass]

“You just sit back and do what you do best,” Symbiote chortled, brushing past her shoulder as he advanced on his new prey. “Watch and do nothing.”

Ardaen’s brow furrowed behind the veil of her tin mask, her lips drawing into a thin, displeased frown as she watched the demon move forward. However, she obeyed, her posture relaxing considerably. Mask was a great many things, one of which being an opportunist – and this was an opportunity she fully planned to capitalize on. She examined the Knight’s movements in response to his new quarry, how his armored moved as he shifted about, the ease with which he carried his large weapon through the air, and the confidence in his seemingly impenetrable defense.

Her waiting by lasted as long as it took Symbiote to have the wind knocked from him. As quickly as she was capable, Ardaen rushed toward the pair, arriving as the Knight raised his mace above his head in both hands. Without pause, she reached upward, each of her arms extending fully, catching the weapon a few inches above where its owner tightly gripped it. The raw, physical might behind the swing forced Mask to one knee, a sting of pain erupting through her left leg as it connected with the bridge. Her raised appendages bent at the elbows, her muscles screaming in protest as she stopped the attack short.

That’s twice now I’ve saved your life.

“Get up!” Ardaen growled, tendrils of smoke beginning to slither out from between the folds in her gauntlets.

The bridge guardian wasted no time in planting his boot squarely against Mask’s chest, wrenching her free of his mace and sending her sailing back a few feet as well, knocking her prone in the process. When he turned his attention toward Symbiote once more, the Knight found the dazed demon no longer lying on the ground, but standing.

“Move back!” Mask yelled from behind, her hand braced against her chest as she pulled herself off the floor.

The Knight swung, exemplifying the true meaning of strength as his weapon cut through the air with uncanny ease. To Ardaen’s surprise, Symbiote listened, the muscles in his powerful legs lending themselves to his needs as he leapt back out of reach.

“Pay attention,” Ardaen began, maintaining her distance for the time being, grabbing enough of Symbiote’s attention to abate his hunger for battle. “Notice how he fights? How he isn’t advancing?”

Sure enough, the Knight held his ground, bringing up his shield once again and holding his mace at the ready.

“He is a defender,” she remarked breathily. “In such heavy armor, moving around excessively is too strenuous on the body, although he seems to have strength enough in him that it might not make too much of a difference.”

Although she did her best to hide it, the kick to her chest was causing her more discomfort than she cared for. She found it difficult to breathe, let alone shift her upper body.

“Straight forward tactics aren’t going to work here,” Ardaen said thoughtfully. “Not right away at least.”

She fell silent, watching the bridge guardian as he vigilantly stood by, waiting for his adversaries to make their move. Telling Symbiote what to do won’t cut it because this Knight can hear me, not to mention the demon is unreasonably defiant, Mask took a step to the right, but I’ve got to figure something out. I need more time.

“Symbiote,” she smirked, wincing slightly as she drew in a breath, “you’ve got one more chance to take this Knight down. Otherwise, I’m going to do it for you.”

That should do the trick, she laughed to herself, I just hope he pays attention to what I said and doesn’t put me in a charitable situation again.

[Symbiosis]

Symbiote’s fangs dripped saliva as he narrowed his soulless eyes on the bridge guardian, listening to Mask as she talked about his strong points. She mentioned that perhaps rushing recklessly forwards be put on hold, and grudgingly, despite himself, he had to agree with the little rabbit. As fun as it was to get into the thick of it, he was not so sure a round two would go any better than the first. He squared his shoulders and hunched down to a predatory position, slowly stalking forwards as the knight’s helmet turned to him.

As Mask pointed out, he did not aggressively charge unless it meant deterring the aggressor from the bridge. He did not move unless it was to defend his position from Thole bridge, and that was something the demon wanted to use to his advantage. Mask had remained silent for a moment, before in her usual, cocky demeanor she casually slipped the words,

“You’ve got one more chance to take this Knight down. Otherwise, I’m going to do it for you.”

Symbiote glared to her as he lifted himself up just to turn his head and leer at her. His tongue snaked outwards, a whine like cackling escaping his maw as he turned to the champion of Thole bridge and howled out another challenge like a beast in the wild.

“You just think you can walk in here and take command because you, what?” Symbiote called to Mask as he slowly stepped forwards. “Saved my life?” The demon growled lowly as he personally did not wish to admit that he did need the female mercenary to save his ass. Even if what was painfully obvious that she’s done so twice already, he would never tell her so.

“I would love to see you try, little rabbit, to just once go on the attack, but you know what. I’ll be a gentleman and fight for you. Take good notes, rabbit,” Symbiote hissed as he looked back to the knight.

Symbiote relished the opportunity to shed blood, and he had a better idea he wanted to try this round, thinking of how he wanted to proceed. The knight lifted war hammer and shield to the ready as Symbiote was within the perimeter of the bridge, his helmet tracking every move he made.

“Watch and learn,” He muttered to the mercenary as he started moving forwards in long strides. The knight moved forwards as well, keeping his kite shield at the ready, the hammer held to the side at the ready. Symbiote licked the air to see if the man exuded any emotions, but he could not even detect the salty taste of fear. Unperturbed, the demon lashed outwards with his hands, raking into his shield in an attempt to pull the defensive unit away. The knight brought his hammer forwards in a wild swing, pushing Symbiote away as he leapt backwards and slid in the dirt on all fours, looking up at the warrior as he stepped forwards and swung the hammer down.

Symbiote moved to the left and brought his hand down in a vicious claw strike aimed for his chest, but the knight did not react to the attack at all, instead letting the talons scrape across his chest plate. He lifted his knee up and knocked Symbiote in the hip, bringing his shield to level with the beast’s chest as he attempted to trip the hybrid creature. Symbiote let out a roar of defiance as he gripped his shield and helmet, attempting to drag the bridge guardian with him.

They grappled for a moment, both shuffling in a circle as they attempted to bring the other into a more favorable position, both trying to knock the other over. The knight beat the shaft of his hammer into the soft exposed flank of Symbiote, while Symbiote kicked and punched where he could. Finally both let the other go, Symbiote debating on what to do as he watched the knight lift himself up to his full height, marching in a controlled retreat towards his bridge.

Despite being in such heavy armor, the bastard seemed to have lost none of his mobility, but that did not mean he was fast. Symbiote shot adrenaline to his feet as he coiled like a tiger, pouncing forwards with arms reaching outwards from a great distance. The knight lifted his shield quickly, bracing himself against the defensive unit as the demon crashed into him in a vaulting tackle.

They once again met, but this time the size of Symbiote was the victor, and he knocked the knight down onto his back where he let out a gasp of air as his shield flew to his side, his hammer still in hand as he shook his head side to side to clear the cobwebs. Symbiote scrambled on the ground, leaves kicking up as he approached the downed warrior and mounted him, bringing his fist down repeatedly. The helmet took the blows one after the other, but even the material hardly was being dented as Symbiote snarled and spat in the guardian’s face.

“Think you’re so tough in your armor?” Symbiote shouted angrily. “Well then let’s see how tough you are when I choke the life out of you, tin can!” Symbiote’s fists enveloped around the neck of the knight, reaching under the chain mail and gripping the many layers of leather and silk cloth underneath. When he was about to grip his windpipe the warrior retaliated, releasing his hammer and grabbing Symbiote by his wrists. The two glared to the other, spittle and cries of hate echoing from the demon’s mouth as he cried for the knight’s death, but try as he might he began to slowly realize something.

The knight was pushing the demon back.

Panic and confusion lined Symbiote’s face, his eyes widening in shock as he witnessed an event he was ill prepared for. Never before had he met someone who was actually stronger than he was, and it was a simple matter for the knight to push his arms up enough that he was able to roll the human hybrid off his body. Symbiote rolled quickly back away from the bridge, coming up near Mask. The knight quickly regained his weapon and stood, slowly inching towards his shield and the bridge.

“Well,” Symbiote sassed darkly as he looked to the knight with a new, grudging respect. “I guess now it’s time for you to do it yourself.” He waited a moment, his eyes never leaving the knights as he caught his breath. When Mask made no move to go on the offensive, he snarled moving forwards again. “This time make sure you actually do something,” Symbiote snarled as he went to keep the knights attention so that the mercenary could do her attacks unhindered.

((Symbiote will now engage in combat, doing whatever you need him to do, Glass, to keep his attention so you can observe for a bit longer and then proceed as needed.))

[Glass]

Ardaen prowled around the conflict, moving in a steady circle as she examined the fight from every available angle. Each block, attack, and dodge the bridge guardian performed enlightened the pensive mercenary that much more. He, like Symbiote, was strong, though even more so than the demon. However, the Knight’s physical might did not equate to agility. At least not from what she had seen thus far. She could not help but admire his steady, well paced movements, and the ease with which he maneuvered within his armor.

While most of Mask’s attention was put toward examining the Knight as he fought and attempting to pick his mode of combat apart for any flaws that could be taken advantage of, she also studied his armor. As a blacksmith, she had to appreciate the masterwork craftsmanship of the steel plating, and wonder just how such a beautiful work of metal was fashioned so seamlessly around its bearer. There were no buckles or straps that could be broken or stretched, no gaps in places where usually there would be. What she could see as she moved around the grappling pair was phenomenal. Each joint was concealed beneath a series of subtly malleable, shifting platelets, similar to scales in how they effortlessly glided over and under one another to allow the Knight his full range of motion, showing only a small amount of wear on the azure matting. It was not until Symbiote was in the midst of choking the life from the bridge guardian that Ardaen realized a vital weakness in the protective apparatus.

Symbiote’s words were lost on Ardaen as she fixated all of her attention on the Knight, formulating a plan as the demon stalked forward again. She watched as the bridge guardian inched his way toward his shield, eying the lumbering Symbiote as he neared.

“Let him have his shield,” she called, her burning bronze irises nearly vanishing behind the meshwork of her mask as she narrowed her eyes.

I hope this works, Ardaen thought to herself, hardly registering the slight hiccup of hesitation in Symbiote’s stride in response to her demand.

Cautiously, the Knight bent down and scooped up his sizable shield, reequipping it with renewed vigor as he stood tall and vigilant, turning to face his aggressor, the demon.

Alright, my turn.

Mask moved along the bridge with a contemplative gait, warily measuring each stride as Symbiote and the Knight engaged each other once more. Her arms crossed over one another, each hand gripping the hilt of a dagger resting opposite of their respective side. With a swift pull just strong enough to make the iron blades hiss loudly as they were drawn across the oiled lip of the sheath, Ardaen armed herself, holding both weapons in reverse, their pommels positioned above her thumbs.

The last seven feet of distance between herself and her target was cleared at a rapid pace as she darted forward suddenly, skimming past Symbiote and under his left arm as it swung outward in an attempt to stop the Knight’s mace from colliding with his skull.

“Push him back!” Ardaen shouted suddenly, narrowly dodging aside as the bridge guardian reversed the direction of his swing.

Symbiote howled with glee as he lurched forward, grabbing the Knight’s shield with his right hand and arresting his armored prey’s mace-wielding arm with his left, using the fleeting distraction that was Mask’s approach to his advantage. The demon’s muscles coiled like snakes ready to strike as he pushed against the Knight, forcing his armed opponent to take a step back in response.

Metal grated painfully against metal as Ardaen made her move, coming from behind the bridge guardian and striking without reservation. Her right hand dagger scraped loudly against the lower half of the posterior side of the Knight’s thigh belonging to the leg he had stepped back with to brace himself against Symbiote’s shoving. The iron blade moved unhindered across the steel plating, bouncing over the lip of the first scale-like shard of metal covering the back of his knee before sliding into the narrow crevice between the last shifting platelet and the sturdy metallic casing enveloping the Knight’s calf. Instantaneously the joint was rendered inoperable as the hilt of the knife pushed against it in such a way that it could only bend ever so slightly.

With so many variables, Mask was astonished to see that her ploy had worked. Everything, from the positioning of the flat of her dagger against the Knight’s thigh, to the necessity of his leg being near to, if not fully extended, required exact timing and flawless execution. The idea of using an opponent’s armor against them was nothing new to her, though she had never faced such a unique set of the stuff.

Hurrying back from the Knight, Ardaen waited for another opportunity. Even with one leg crippled she knew better than to stay within reach of his mace. However, Symbiote hardly seemed to care as he cackled maliciously, even as he was pushed back and the bridge guardian swung at him, trying to maintain some semblance of balance in the process.

((Think I’ll end here. Feel free to act out Ardaen as you see fit, Symbiosis. :) ))

[Symbiosis]

It became a complicated dance with the three as Mask struck then faded. Her movements were akin to a soft breeze as she entered into the fight and then swiftly left, naught but destruction and chaos in her wake. Every time the knight was about to get a good shot on Symbiote, she had dashed in to save the day with a carefully placed knife or strike to displace the bridge guardian’s body. When the knight realized he was literally being picked apart he attempted to ignore the demon and chase after Mask, but his attentions were soon drawn back as Symbiote bellowed a cry of challenge and chased after him.

This all seemed well and good, but even a trained eye could tell that knight, at best, was mildly irritated. His speed had decreased considerably after his leg joint was stiffened by the mercenary, his steps hobbled and shorter. However, like a true warrior, he merely changed his strategy with the growing situation, his combat stance narrower and his shield held at the ready with the hammer held at a ready position. He struck first whenever Symbiote tried to sneak in, and kept his eyes wary for when Mask would attempt to shadow strike. Things went badly when the knight managed to twist much to everyone’s surprise with enough speed to bash his shield against the woman’s side and push her away, her body nimbly rolling through the leaves kicking them up as she skidded to a stop looking through her tin mask at the knight with a calculating, piercing stare.

The knight brought his kite shield back, using it more like a weapon rather than to block his attack, using the edges of the metal. The cold steel caught Symbiote in the chin, and the bridge champion followed his strike lifting one knee to the demon’s thigh and bringing the beast down to one knee. With the last of his flourish he brought the blunt end of the shield back into Symbitoe’s face, knocking him backwards on the ground where he slid just before Mask.

Labored breaths came out his mouth as his tongue slowly snaked its way into the air. He opened his maw as he took lungfuls of air into his system, letting the world stop spinning to swiftly as regained himself. His expanded torso heaved with exertion as he slowly lifted himself to his right side and steadily rose himself to his feet, one hand gingerly touching his sore jaw as the other flexed in a menacing fashion. He narrowed his soulless eyes upon the champion of Thole bridge, a lower, primal growl of rage and frustration escaping his lips as saliva dripped from the tip of his tongue.

“We’re losing,” Symbiote muttered to Mask. “I don’t like losing.” Symbiote looked around the forest for something, anything to aid him in this fight, but unlike when he had fought the woman, there was nothing readily available to him to use as a makeshift weapon. He titled his head back to Mask, her cold eyes never leaving the knights, but she did feign a shrug to show at least she acknowledged the demon. He half contemplated ripping one of her arms off to use as a club, but the amount of whining Baxter would do made the ideal less appealing.

“Got any grand ideas, Binky boy?” Symbiote looked to his chest, much in the same manner Baxter did when he addressed the demon. There was a pause of silence, before Baxter’s voice echoed through the tree line, a soft echo to it like he was speaking from the bottom of a well.

“Not particularly,” Baxter admitted. “Nothing that Mask hasn’t already pointed out,” The man seemed to mumble the next words lightly. “Not that you’d listen anyway…” Symbiote glared to his chest as he focused on pushing Baxter down into his psyche, looking to the knight with a cold baleful eye. A wet leopard like growl escaped his lips as he contemplated on how he wanted to exactly pop the tin can man, but most avenues sadly weren’t offering him much faith. With an irritated roar of impatience he began to move forwards again.

“All this fucking useless posturing and hit and runs! I’m so god damn upset that not a single damn foe I’ve fought in the last month has any balls to actually go on the offensive. Everybody just wants to sit and wait, sit and wait! I’m so SICK of it!” He roared as he lowered himself into a soft run. “I wanna bash some heads in! I wanna crack skulls, spill blood and break bones! I wanna hear the cries of agony in a cacophonous symphony!” He was in a full fledged run at this point, his body making large strides as the knight turned to face him.

“I’ve had enough wait and see! Let’s get stuck in, lads!” Symbiote shouted to Mask and the bridge guardian. He howled with primal fury, his blood racing through every vein like a horse galloping. His tongue slowly hung to the side as his jaws opened wide in a haunting grin, arms moving side to side as he bound forwards in leaps. When he approached the knight he brought his fist back and hit square into the man’s kite shield, his fist quaking from the impact as pain spiked through his exposed knuckles. The knight took one step back, anchoring all his weight on the crippled side as his more flexible foot slid to brace himself. He brought his free hand out in a harsh blow, the shaft of the war hammer hitting the top of his shield. Symbiote had to duck and push against the shield, the tip of the metal weapon bludgeoning into his shoulder sending spikes of pain that caused him to howl in agony as he felt his bones crack, but thankfully not break.

In a full combat high the beast roared with challenge, as adrenaline quickly dulled the pain. The demon was not phased as he brought his other hand up and wrapped his fingers around the wooden shaft of the war hammer, tugging as his other hand gripped the bottom of the kite shield and tried to push it up. They wrestled again, the demon pushing him side to side as he fought to displace the knight and toss him on the ground, but the warrior would not be so easily bowed. He tried to overpower the demon, but as Symbiote held the hammer he made sure to gain leverage by using the shield as an uneven see-saw, getting greater strength over the enemy based on simple physics. When the knight felt his grip losing he pulled with all his might on the hammer, dragging Symbiote forwards where he was about to slam his shield into the demon’s chest.

Symbiote bellowed with triumph, tongue flicking the air as saliva hit the helmet of the warrior. He released the hammer, bringing both hands to the shield where he pushed upwards lifting it over the knight’s head. The man had lost his balance in the game of tug of war, his feet back pedaling as he tried to keep himself upright. Thanks to Mask’s earlier strike he had to bend awkwardly not to fall, giving the demon the opportunity he needed. His fingers clasped the helmet of the warrior by the chin, and he began to tug violently. Much to his dismay, like most parts of the armor, the piece flowed with the rest of the suit, hooked by the chainmail by clasps hidden under scaled plate. That did not deter the beast however as he roared. His fingers fought as he did before, using his arms to block out the arms of the knight who thrashed around trying to beat the demon down with body shots as he jerked aside. He moved with him, keeping the bridge guardian constantly moving as he attempted to choke the life out of the knight once again.

“I’ll choke the life out you, just like if you were the little rabbit…” He whispered in a taunting fashion, snake like tongue licking the knights helmet as he drooled in anticipation.

[Breaker]

This thread has exceeded the 7 day Boss Battle time limit. It may be moved to and completed in Althanas Regions if so desired.