His body was hot. Sweat trickled down his body.
It mingled with the dust and blood that covered his face, and stung his eyes.
Recko wiped it away when he had the time.
He hardly had time to think. Or maybe he had no time. All he could feel were his instincts. He was an animal.
All men are animals in war, anyway. A mouse or a dragon, you could say.
His body burned as another bullet lodged itself in the space between his shoulder and his throat.
He fired in the direction from whence it came, and was consequently splattered with a burst of blood.
He yelled, in the case there were still living soldiers nearby, "THE PORTER. CAN YOU FIRE?"
He couldn't hear a reply. He grunted and managed to kill the next thurgual that rounded the corner without a scratch upon himself.
He waited for about 30 seconds. Nothing came. He caught his breath and yelled the message again.
In response came an chilling boom that rattled the trench walls, and then roughly 5 seconds later came an explosion so powerful it knocked even Recko to the ground.
His ears rang, the ground shook furiously, and his body was covered in dirt and dust.
He struggled out of the rubble. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth, and he spat it out as he tried to open his eyes.
The dust was heavy in the air. He grabbed the remains of the trench wall and pulled himself up, carrying his gun with him. He couldn't see enough to find the Narva'tol, and his eyes were burning as they struggled to withstand the amount of dust in the air. His chest throbbed, trying to recover the breath that was just knocked out of him, and his head ached.
He stumbled out into the open, escaping from the choking atmosphere around him.
As he stepped out, he saw three thurguals ahead. One lay on the ground, the other 2 were struggling up. One raised a gun. They shot at each other.
Recko was faster. The thurgual fell, it was a close shot for Recko.
The next Thurgual died before he knew what happened to him, and he shot the fallen thurgual just to be sure - once, in the head.
He grit his teeth.
What is their motive? Why the hell are they attacking?There was another shot, and Recko winced as a screaming pain shot up his spine.
He twisted in pain, and turned to see an injured Burtuak stumbling into the open.
Recko raised his gun and fired automatically. Burtuak raised a shield to protect himself from the shots, and fired again. Recko couldn't protect himself this time, apart from raising an arm to defend his head.
The bullets seared in his arm and chest.
As burtuak stumbled on his injured leg, Recko raised his own gun and fired again.
One, two, three shots in the face. One in the shield.
The thurguals' skin was tough, though. Three shots to the face might not be fatal. And in Burtuak's case, it wasn't. Not yet.
Jezebel hadn't seen another person for a while now.
There were signs of life, namely blood staining the stained glass windows, or reddening the blood red carpet that ran along the corridors.
Occasionally she'd find a limb, or pile of mess, but she averted her eyes.
She felt different then usual. She would usually feel honourable after completing her orders. After all, she wanted to impress the others, to help herself, and her only friend, Shelrair.
And it was what she was brought here to do, anyway.
She was special. Unique. They needed her.
Why then did she feel helpless, and scared, and reluctant?
Was she not superior in that her emotions meant not to conflict?
I'm just a weapon to them, aren't I?Jezebel tried to shake the thought from her head. But as one glass of curiosity spilled, the water thinned and spread across the floor.
Why should I worship them? Should they not worship me?
If I died here, I'd no consequence more than having to rest until a time when a more fitting Summoner approached.
Why wait here in torture?Her head began to throb with a sudden pain. She itched at her skin. It suddenly felt foreign. ((LolHinamizawaSyndrome))
This blood... Why spill it for them? Let them spill their own!She whimpered, and clutched at the sides of her head.
No.. What am I thinking??There was a ringing. Someone flicking a glass, like the signal for a toast.
Jezebel halted.
Someone's.. Here? Have they been watching me?She turned.
He took the tiniest sip from a simple champagne glass, then lowered it, and stared at his reflection sloshing around in the redness of the liquid.
She hadn't seen him before. She was supposed to kill him, then, but he was different. He wasn't afraid, or worried.
Maybe this was the last ancient she'd been told of? Siberius?
There was a deathly silence between them. He'd noticed her, surely, but he hadn't acknowledged her presence.
It wasn't until he held out the hand with the glass, still not looking up at her, that she was even sure he knew.
Jazebel did not take the glass. She hadn't been told to, after all.
He waited. He wasn't used to being ignored. He wasn't used to much social interaction, actually.
"You're anxious, aren't you? You're losing your control already. Would this be a new record?"
He spoke as her summoners did - he was superior to her, and she detected respect hidden within his voice.
She stayed silent. He raised his head. His eyes were a light purple in colour, almost violet. The blackened webs that were his pupils led to the tiniest yellow speckles, like stars in a night sky.
"Jezebel?"
"I haven't seen you before."
The stranger smiled, "Well, I've seen you. Many a time."
Perhaps he's a descendant I've overlooked."...Not very talkative, are we?" He continued.
"You must be a Provocateur? I realise I am here to serve, but we have orders to ca-"
"Mechanical."
"What?"
"You weren't always this mechanical, you know?"
Jezebel, yet again, refused to respond. The alarms inside her mind continued to ring. Her skin felt itchy. It felt as if a foreign, dangerous substance had been injected into her, and now flowed freely through her entire body.
The man offered the glass once more, "Hurry up and take a sip. You're not looking very healthy."
Jezebel stared at the glass, and the liquid inside that reminded her of the wine she'd grown accustomed to. That or blood of some kind.
Then she stared back at the man.
"Who are you?" She accepted the glass.
"Oh, I'm offended. So, The Knowledge herself has forgotten me? That's.. Sad."
She raised her eyebrows. She'd heard herself be referred to by that name before. But she hadn't before questioned it.
"I'm like you. In essence, at least. They called me Be'el, back when
they were around to talk."
She swirled the glass around in a clockwise motion. Suddenly, her eyes burned and it felt as though insects were scratching at her nerves from the inside. She winced.
"I haven't had a friendly chat like this for... Perhaps... A couple of hundred years?" He continued, apparantly apathetic to her current situation now that she held the glass.
The pain hastily grew more and more potent, and the waves in which it climaxed grew in pressure. She had lost the will to listen to him, or to fight her morals.
She tipped her head backward, and poured most of the content of the glass into her mouth.
There was no running water onboard the Ashrose.
It felt odd for her now, after almost a year on the throne, to go a day without bathing. She felt incredibly dirty, yet she knew she'd been inside most of the day anyway.
In any case, she didn't feel like eating much come afternoon tea. Her stomach just didn't feel up to it.
She had enjoyed the day, though. She hadn't enjoyed a time like this with Bowen for months. It was good that they were able to put the events of that night behind them, at least for now.
For a moment, her mind wandered to Siberius and Safroth back at the Palace.
She wondered a little how they were coping.
But then a delicious scent wafted over the table, and Bowen presented his own personal dish as a surprise.
She laughed, and the two began to eat. She didn't think of them anymore that day.
Recko was faced with a huge disadvantage.
Burtuak was more readily-equipped; more fit to kill than he was.
When he saw that Burtuak was to fire again, he quickly rushed to his right, and noticed a small yet useful piece of damaged vehicle.
He raised it, and managed to save himself more bullet wounds in the process.
Burtuak laughed, a loud, threatening laugh.
"Commander Recko - cowering behind a makeshift shield. I never thought I'd see the day!"
Recko countered, "You were the first to cower! Save your breath!"
There was no response. Recko heard the rush of feet, and swung at precisely the right time to smash the thurgual in the side of the head.
Burtuak fell. Recko was about to bring the wreckage upon the fallen thurgual's head one last time.
But Burtuak, on the dusty ground, shot first. Beneath Recko.
It pierced his jaw. Immediately pain burned through his body.
The thurgual fired again.
The shield fell.
Recko fell.
The demon named Be'el took the glass off her as she clutched her hands over her mouth and began a long fit of coughs.
Blood, saliva and mucus emitted. For a moment, her headache worsened terribly.
But then, it felt suddenly at ease.
Her limbs stopped aching. In fact, her entire body began to feel numb.
Her headache turned to lightheadedness. She steadied herself on a sturdy plant as she fell.
Be'el approached, and this time did not offer the wine. He held her mouth open, and forced the remainder into her mouth.
She swallowed.
Wine always tastes better on the second mouthful.
After she had calmed, sitting upon the floor to catch her breath, he spoke, "The secret is Prilla petals."
"..." She was still attempting to catch her breath.
He smiled to himself, in a moment of vanity, "They apparantly don't exist anymore. But that's only because they died out due to incorrect consumption, and
weeding. Apparantly, the best medicinal flowers are pests," he laughed, "I believe humans can be most comedic at times."
Jezebel didn't care, nor did she decide she liked this man.
"They grow only in the most extreme climates nowdays. Icy mountains and the like. For the most part, it is impossible for humans to gather them without dying in the process. Luckily, I have many little friends in high places."
As he spoke, two multicoloured beetles hovered through an open window, and landed in his palm. A fly followed, and Jezebel was able to note many varying species of insect crawling towards him, attracted by something.
"That's an interesting skill," she noted.
He clenched his fist, and the insects around him evaporated into colours of air. Then, they swirled around him. Myst.
"I'm flattered... Feeling better?"
She blinked, "What did the.. Well, let's call it the wine. What did it do?"
He chuckled, "Jezebel. The Knowledge, they call you. Your knowledge surpasses that of even mine, did you know?"
"I find I'm always just asking questions," she responded, truthfully. It was the first time she had conversed naturally with another demon. It was a new feeling. They were on the same level.
"Your host is weak. Very weak. But that's common, I suppose. It takes a host particularly fluent with their aura to contain even a portion of your natural spirit. Are you aware of the concept of Cerilie? ((I forget the name for Spirits Beats that you had, it was very cool but I forgot it. Do you remember it? Dx))"
Jezebel pondered for a moment, before nodding, "I suppose.. I am. A being is made up of 3 elements - A shell, an aura, and memories. These elements are woven and kept in place by myst. The myst within a person is so potent that it can never be tampered with. Only the Shell can be damaged, if manipulation is to occur within particularly skilled people, or Us."
Be'el smiled, "And were you taught that, Jezebel?"
She shooked her head.
"Centuries ago, when we were more plentiful and less discriminated against - and the people were still the newest of creation - it was not uncommon that a baby be born with an incredibly powerful aura.
If nurtured, this aura could grow with a person. However, every human shell can only withstand a certain portion of aura. If that portion is exceeded, the shell cannot handle the pressure, and will eventually fester and kill the possessor."
Jezebel caught on, "If looked after, this aura will manifest itself outside the human shell. If powerful enough, it will forge for itself it's own Shell. This is known as the Cerilie concept. The Cerilie possesses a seperate Shell, but witholds a portion of the original humans' Aura, and holds the same Memories. They do not, however, share the same mind. The Cerilie on its own cannot produce lasting memories that will be transferred to the summoner."
"They call them 'Spirit Beasts'. This same concept applies to you."
Surprised, "How so?"
"Your original aura is potent even moreso than mine. This host, however, cannot support the aura. Due to you already possessing this once-human shell, no Cerilie will manifest for you. This body will fester if your aura continues to connect with your memories."
"What memories?"
Be'el shrugged, "You're The Knowledge here, not I. Just be thankful for the wine I gave you. The Prilla petals absorb and collect aura.
They can be dangerous in large quantities, but as a liquid they seem the perfect medicine for you, don't you agree?"
Jezebel felt strangely at home with his man. This stranger suddenly felt quite familiar somehow.
But there were footsteps behind her, and she turned as several Immestrian guards raised their arms.
She turned, and her friend was gone.
Within seconds, the hall was bloody.
Jezebel set off to find her friend Shelrair.
Burtuak's bloodied face screamed in delight as he stood over the fallen body of his rival.
As he laughed, saliva covered Recko's face, "Who's laughing NOW, Commander!? Why did you not hand the Empire over to us, and be spared your life!?"
Laughter filled the air.
But.. It was not Burtuak's.
Recko was smiling.
"You find this funny?" Burtuak sneered.
"It's just... I never imagined I'd be killed... By an ugly, mutated ox."
Burtuak's face tightened. Recko laughed for a long, long time.
it was a while before Burtuak raised the gun to Recko's head, and fired the three shots that would end his life.
And he was still sitting there, bloodied, and victorious, when Severon arrived moments later, with backup.
The soldiers raised their arms and opened fire.
But Severon was the first to see the body. He screamed for his friend as he, too, opened fire upon the thurgual leader.
It didn't take much more to kill him.
A man is either a dragon or a mouse in war,
But in the end, you're always no more than animal.
And if the hate of some animals
Had not sparked a war,
Would the Empire even be left standing now?
Or would the Puppeteer now sit laughing,
Alone, in the demon's chair?
Rest in Peace. Username: Farrelei.
Name: Be'elzebub.
Title: The Prince.
Host: ??
Location: Observing.
Bio: Be'el, for thousands of years, has found it more fitting to observe rather than partake.
In his solace, he has grown to watch humans be his entertainment. it is rare that he outsteps his boundaries - however, he can't always allow Fate to take it's toll.
He always hated Fate, anyway.
Notable Powers: Can manipulate myst and his own aura to create millions of expendable insects or Cerilie, that he has learned to recycle.
Appearance:
Other: He likes wine, and chess.
))