All happened in a few brief instances of time.
The spear pierced the woman just above the right arm, pinning her shoulder to the ground.
Sin Eater’s other arms withdrew into its shroud.
The beams which shot out as a desperate attempt to resist him fizzled uselessly as one arm swung out, adorned with a wide, pointed kite shield with a distinct serrated bottom. Swinging around as the poorly aimed arrows clattered uselessly around it and against his shield, its prey beheld an assortment of inhumane weapons as the spear was withdrawn, revealing the unholy construct which stood before them.
In chaos, it thrived. In madness, it stewed. In sin...it wallowed.
The sluggish, tired movements of the woman’s recent resuscitation wore off quickly with the pain, pain that soon became a fierce fire in her gullet. The masochistic tendencies buried in her core came to the front, the aching burn in her shoulder overpowering her with its dangerous allure.
All the while the sluggish movements of the silver-tipped haired one continued to take in the world around him with an increasing lethargy. The blood spilt by the leader was not a vibrant crimson but a tainted black, and in an instant the sharp spray of ebon gore that had decorated the Vice-Captain had vanished, disappeared to the physical eye.
Now the hunger was in Kago, the deep unsettling desire for more as it shook his sword arm, a distant feeling of malnutrition. The one, the only one, who had reacted successfully to it was now gone, and with it all sense of hesitancy for this group. They had succumbed to their sins so long ago, he was simply picking up the pieces to be collected in him once more.
They claimed illusion, farcity, surreality. No such mercy would spare them agony.
From its uppermost left hand, dripped the meteor hammer which had nearly claimed the life of the medic. Its bloated face, tongue protruded in some agonized manner, gave some sense of wanting in its vastness.
From its middle left hand, it gripped the spear which was now decorated with fresh blood. Along its shaft was the disturbing likeness of human skin, ending in yet another human face with tongue protruded. Its mouth was pulled into a sickening grin, the tongue sharpened and edged as it seemed to revel in the blood it tasted.
From its lowermost left hand, dangled the three pronged bolas which had ensnared the body and mind of the assassin. Each end was no simple ball, but seemed to be a caltrop-like contraption, the four points terminating in some dozen miniature barbs.
From its uppermost right hand, another polearm was gripped. A trident, its three hooked points detailed in some impish figure, each gleamed in the dim sunlight. The winding, twisting shaft led down to a similarly hooked pommel.
From its middle right hand, was the same shield which had so casually protected it. Its kited appearance was offset by the unusual sheen which it took, mirroring all who took it in with some otherworldly quality.
From its lowermost right hand, it gripped a simple flanged mace. The demonic, jet-black coloration of its entirety somehow made itself entirely unnerving amongst its brethren.
Sin Eater was hungry, and so it would feast. This, he could tell easily.
As the assassin slid to the ground with a meaty thump, the traitor among them seemed grimly set on some otherworldly task. Consumed by their sin, they could not comprehend let alone coordinate the situation they now found themselves in.
Its three heads, each identical to the next, surveyed the entire scene with a twisted delight. Its armory seemed to vibrate with the hunger it felt, and he had to reign in his instincts to wallow in such an easy hunt.
Now sound slipped from his trifecta, the trio of heads echoing in a single, echoing voice. “Wander to your deaths, wallow in your sins, your deaths chosen at your own hands...”
Its form disappeared, a slight movement giving the easiest of hints as to the hollow’s Sonido. It reappeared briefly in front of the Lieutenant, the trident lancing forward to catch the thick-bladed scimitar mid-clash.
In an instant, the flanged mace came upwards towards the man’s ribs, the trident twisting to keep a firm hold on the sword it had locked against.
“...You are my feast to claim.”
[ 736 /
1530 ]