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originally posted in:The New Dojo
11/30/2016 12:30:29 AM
1
As Irina staggers back from the blow, Lucien backs up himself and holsters his gun.
Lucien falls to one knee before he lifts his head and glares at Irina. For a second she can see something beneath his reflective visor - the unbridled flame of pure hatred.
He stabs his blade into his own stomach and twists. A thick and warm miasma begin to fill the area, bringing upon a scent of burning flesh and brimstone. Lucien's form grows two large avian wings, made of burnt-black flesh and soot-ridden feathers. A pair of colossal arms unfold from his lower middle back, seemingly made up of thousands of thrashing arms all amalgamated into two limbs. Two of the arms withdrew Lucien's .50 Desert Eagles while others picked up his 2-gauge shotgun. One even reached into his holster to draw his Mateba revolver.
Whatever demon Lucien had become laughed in a thousand different tongues. It unfolded its wings as they were set alight with corrupted cobalt flame - as did his sword, who's flames only heightened and seemed to whisper with every crackling ember emitted from it. He took his grenade launcher out from his belt with his left hand.
With the wings, the massive limbs and the flaming sword paired with the grenade launcher, he looked like some demented Angel of Eden.
And then the miasma enveloped him, making him disappear from sight as the sound of crackling flames and cries of children surrounded Irina.
English
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[i]Memories of buildings set ablaze in Yharnam and the screams of innocents before their deaths filled Irina's mind, her face contorted into a look of concentration as she only eyed the monstrosity that Lucien had revealed himself to truly be. The lightsaber blade suddenly extinguished, and Irina holstered the saber's shining handle back within her coat as she reached down to grasp the handle of her Rakuyo's sword portion - the dagger portion still remained within her chest, due to Irina's own slight fear of removing it during combat.[/i] [i]Irina took this time to make sure that she had control of all of the spilt blood in the area at the moment, as her own and Lucien's began to swirl slowly around her beaten body.[/i] [i]Now, she would wait. She had to remain calm, and remain strong, no matter the case.[/i]
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Laughed. Sickened laughter emanated from Lucien, for it would be inaccurate to say he himself was laughing. He chuckled in a thousand different voices, yet was crying in pain at the same time. It was as if he had mouths beneath his corrupted flesh that cried and laughed like two parallel theatre masks multiplied by the thousands. As Irina swirled hers and Lucien's blood around her, some of it began to... dissipate? No - [i]it was turning to ash.[/i] Lucien's blood transmuted into calcified skin cells with burning blue cores, skin to a swathe of hot cinders. Irina had unintentionally trapped herself in a swirling ash storm by controlling Lucien's blood. He slowly raised his sword up and brought his blade down quickly, not hitting Irina at all due to the range between them, but shaping the ashen winds around Irina into razors that burnt her flesh every time they cut her - he was cauterizing each wound to ensure she would bleed no more.
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[i]The cauterization was bad news for Irina, as now she only had a limited amount of blood that she could freely manipulate against an opponent that possessed what seemed to have been much more power than she had. In short, it was a bad situation, one that Irina would have usually retreated from to access her wounds and plan ahead for a separate encounter.[/i] [i]The first thing that came to Irina's mind was identifying Lucien's current location, as she then whirled around to where the man had laughed. The goal now? It was to get out of this situation as fast and as safety as possible. [/i]
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The air held the pungent odour of burning flesh and brimstone. In front of her she saw a glint of gold, shaped triangular and cone-like - an executioner's helmet? No, no it could not be. They should not be here. In its hand was an oversized wheel, stained with bits of gore and rotten meat from past kills. And then something landed in front of Irina, thrown by the Executioner. Something small and rough, slightly pink but now rotting. Her tongue. The laughter continued from the figure. It was no doubt that it was Daniel.
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[i]The memories of Yharnam, of the hunt, they...they swirled within the Vileblood's mind, corrupting her, and ever so slightly pushing her closer and closer to the edge of utter madness. Yet a question remained within Irina's head, as she froze in place; as she stared at Daniel, the one that had caused her so much pain and suffering...[/i] [i]...How?[/i] [i]How could He be here? He was dead, a broken lunatic of a man crushed after he descended into his own insanity, into his bloodlust. So that begged the question...how was he here in the first place?[/i] [i]Unless, Irina's suspicions came true.[/i] [i]Instead of panicking, Irina attempted to ignore the apparition of Daniel, the one that had committed his life to her very death. She stared upon that thick grey robe, the bloodied pyramid-shaped head...the rotten tongue upon the ground. Irons forced herself to look upon it, before she began walking.[/i] [i]Straight towards Daniel, the one she knew was dead.[/i]
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The Executioner continued to laugh amidst the miasma... but as Irina got closer, she began to notice his flickering height. Her reflection was twisted in the gold of his angular helmet, surrounded by fire, bloodshed and under a blood-red moon.
