by Kindred Ult
Lucifer's smile faded from his face, and when he turned it to Luke his expression was as cold as his tone.
"Careful, Lueke. You are my current favorite, but these ones here come terribly close to stealing that away from you. You must know that you stand no chance against all four of them without the powers of my champion. Would you like me to not bestow them upon you?"
Luke visibly blanched and stuttered out an apology, but before he could really finish, Lucifer's mood picked back up and his smile splayed across his face once again.
"Not to worry, Lueke, all is forgiven. Or should I call you Luke now?"
"Luke, sir. I told them."
"Hey!" Niethel broke in. "He said 'four of them,' that means that he acknowledged me." His voice almost beamed.
Lucifer sighed, placing his hand to his forehead. "Whatever. Alright, since Luke insists on being so bloody formal about this, I suppose that I have no other option save to speed things along. As much as I would love to continue exchanging pleasantries with the lot of you. Remember, if you kill Lueke this dimension will vanish and all of you will be returned to the normal world. Remember, however, that even if you do manage to kill him, only one of you can become my next champion. Just a little something to keep you all on your toes."
None of the four answered, except to draw their respective weapons and ready themselves.
Rolling his eyes, Lucifer sighed again. "Fine then, be unsociable. See if I care. Are you prepared, Luke?"
Luke breathed out deeply, closed his eyes, and visibly relaxed his entire body. "I am, my Lord."
"Very well, then." Lucifer waved his hand at Luke dismissively, and at the very end of the wave, his hand flexed. Once the muscles clenched, Luke grunted from between his teeth and doubled over. He fell to his knees, wrapped his arms around his stomach, and began spewing blood from his mouth, nostrils, eyes, and ears. Demenn and the others looked on as his tan body slowly became a dark red and all of his muscles contracted into him before bulging out. His body was disproportionately small compared to the muscles that shoved out from him, and at first he looked like a small child wrapped in adult's clothes, but then his bones began snapping and his frame elongating as his skeletal structure reformed itself to fit his newly-acquired physique. His bulging muscles slowly stretched until they once again seemed to be only slightly out of place on his body. By the time he was done, he looked more than ten feet tall, had a long tail curled around his legs, and had two horns bursting from his skull.
He took a moment to extend his body out, stretching his limbs and becoming used to his new form, before reaching down and picking up his gauntlet, which had fallen to the ground before the transformation had begun. When he slipped his hand back into it, Demenn was puzzled by the fact that, even though it was almost twice as large as before, the hand still fit perfectly into the gauntlet. By this point, though, few things truly bothered him. Luke turned his dark head toward them and grinned, showing off elongated teeth that gleamed in the dim light.
"So, what do you think of the powers granted to Lucifer's true champion?" His voice was still husky with the pain he had just endured, and his chest and shoulders heaved back and forth as his body recovered from the experience.
Varus frowned, seeming unimpressed. "It looks just like our Other form except that you're red and don't have wings." As if to accentuate his point, he morphed into his own Other form.
Luke smiled past his panting and straightened, allowing his body to fully display its predator's beauty. "Yes, it's true that we share our basic frames, since Lucifer designed both of us, but I'm sure you will soon find that he favors his champion over any regular vampire drivel. My form is far superior to your own."
In response, Varus only smirked, which was made only more off-setting by the fact that he was now black-skinned and beginning to approach Luke in terms of height.
"Luke," Lucifer cut in to the conversation with a voice that dripped with excitement. "what weapon would you like to use for this battle?"
Luke was much more subservient in his response to Lucifer than he had been earlier. He had learned his lesson. "If it pleases you, my lord, I would like to use my usual one."
A small chuckle escaped Lucifer's lips. "Very well."
Luke held his hands out in front of him with the palms up, and almost immediately a huge ball appeared from nowhere and fell to the ground next to him while the chain attached to it fell along his hands and two handles landed directly in his grasp. To Demenn, it appeared to be a modified version of a morning star. It seemed to be a very strange variation, however, as it had two handles twice the size of Luke's hands, with one being at the far end of the chain away from the ball and the other placed along the middle of the chain. There was about fifteen feet of chain altogether, although it was hard to tell definitively since most of it was piled on the floor next to the huge spiked ball that finished the strange weapon. The ball must have been at least three feet in diameter and had at least sixteen one-foot-long spikes stuck into it with little discernible order to their placement. The entire effect of the weapon was to make Demenn very uneasy, and he turned to Varus who, with his new-found memories from Dimitrious, was now an expert in almost every weapon imaginable.
"Varus, what do you think?"
It was obvious that Varus was thinking; remembering. "It is definitely a different weapon than ones we've seen, and that probably means he has some strange fighting style to go along with it." His voice slowly grew faster as he got more in-depth with his topic. "From what I can tell, the two handles are used to change his grip to whatever distance he needs it to be at. The handle at the end of the chain is solid, but the one in the middle is hollow, which makes it so that it can slide along the length of the chain with each swing. His maximum arm-span is probably about ten feet, but I would put his comfortable fighting arm-span at about six or seven feet. This gives gives him an extra five or six feet of chain should he choose to extend it all on one arm. It takes the chain seven feet or so to hit the ground from a traditional fighting stance, so he has to hold his weapon up higher in order to avoid hitting the ground with the ball every time he swings it. He will have to swing it at an angle, so that it almost touches his horns, or swing it entirely above his head."
Demenn was following along, making images in his head out of Varus's description. "Which of those two fighting stances is more probable?"
Varus twitched his head. "Over the head, I suppose. At an angle is faster, but it limits his ability to throw to the side and runs the risk of hitting the ground and losing all momentum if he happens to swing it too low."
"Right, and remember that he still has that gauntlet. None of us really know what it can do." Demenn looked around at all of the others, receiving their nods.
After a short silence, Lucifer cleared his throat. "I believe that I have given both sides sufficient time to prepare for your respective deaths. The wall between you is now gone. Go at it!" He stopped just short of clapping his hands like a giddy child.
The four of the instinctively grouped together as Luke walked toward them. His flail dragged on the ground behind him, scraping many of the tiles out of their bearings as it followed him.
"His length is his weakness." Varus hissed quickly. "When he attacks we should all dodge in different directions and try to get in close before he can get off a second attack."
Luke stopped and pulled on the chain with his hand holding the changeable grip, at first there was resistance from the ball, but after only a moment, it tore loose from the ground and sent chunks of multicolored tiles flying as he began swinging it above his head just as Varus had predicted. One hand was moving around in a small circle, while his hand on the solid handle stayed almost completely still, anchoring the flail and making Luke look like he was in complete control. His was still walking forward slowly, but then he smiled, and before he could even finish the facial expression, he was sprinting toward them at a speed to great to be seen. Amazingly, he was still able to swing the ball around
him while running without stumbling or being heaved to the side by the opposite forces of momentum combating one another. He had perfect balance.
In the space of a few seconds he within range of them, and at that same moment his hand came around and his hand holding the middle handle slid all of the way down to the fixed one, sending the morning star flying through the air at the group.
"Now!" Demenn yelled as soon Luke's hand left the handle. His body moved even as the words left his mouth, and his hands gripped his sword tighter as he lunged to the left, sliding on the smooth tiles and maintaining his balance before stopping himself by shifting his feet. Varus kept both his shield and his sword in his hands, though they were now more like a buckler and a long knife, and used his wings to propel him to the right. Within seconds his feet connected with the wall at the far end of the room and his legs clenched in anticipation of springing back. Brand drew no weapon, and stayed in his elf form, but launched himself upward with what must have been werewolf-powered legs, grabbed something on the ceiling, and held himself there with one hand. Niethel was a second behind everyone else, but was still able to jump straight back and shoot the arrow he had just fit to his bow at Luke before landing, rolling backwards, and recovering to his feet.
"Go!" Varus yelled.
At exactly the same time, Demenn dashed right back at Luke, his sword lagging slightly behind him, Brand dropped from the ceiling with a speed that suggested he had once more used his power to enhance his abilities and holding a wooden root about the size of a large club, and Varus launched himself from the wall with his wings straining and his sword and buckler stretched out in front of him pointing at Luke. Just when Luke's chain went taut and the ball slammed into the ground where they had been only a blink before, all three of them and an arrow were speeding at him. The wave of tiles sent out by the mace were still in mid-air by the time the three of them were almost within range once again.
Luke smiled.
He flicked his left hand, the one holding the changeable side, out to the left just slightly before spinning the entire weapon along with it, let go with the gauntlet hand, also the left, spun around, and pointed it up at an angle halfway between Demenn and Brand with all of the fingers spread out and the claws at the tips of them pointing at them. In just those few movements all of their attacks were defeated. The flick of the left hand had caused a small circular ripple in the chain of his weapon, and even as Niethel's arrow passed through the tiles that flew all around it, it went in between two links in the chain and, when Luke flung the weapon to the side, was broken in half. Without his foresight and his wings, Varus would have been smashed and skewered by the spiked ball. As it was, he was still only barely able to perceive Luke's actions early and flare out his wings before beating them backwards and slamming his clawed feet into the ground. He came to a stop just in time, and watched as the tip of the closest spike passed only inches from his eyes. Brand and Demenn had a harder time of it.
With his hand still outstretched, Luke spoke a word and fire burst from one claw while a bolt of lightning spewed from another. The fire condensed into a tight fireball and sped toward Brand, while the lightning arced through the air at Demenn. Demenn was able to throw himself to the side to avoid the lightning, but he was forced to do it so quickly that he could not recover from his fall in time and crashed down onto the tiles. Brand could not dodge, since he was in mid-air, but before the ball of flame hit him the large club in his hands shifted until it formed a large shield in front of him that was not only wide, but also deep at the edges so that it looked more like a bucket than a traditional shield. The flames engulfed him when the fireball collided with him, and Luke, having not seen the change, smiled. But as he turned his back, Brand burst from the flames, shoved his left hand and the blackened piece of wood to the side, and cocked back his right hand. By chance, Luke looked up just as Brand punched down with all of his strength coupled with the gravity of falling, and this time, it was Luke who was forced to leap to the side to avoid the strike and save himself. Once Brand's hand connected with the ground, though, it truly felt like the entire cavern shook. Tiles flew everywhere, and a large hole surrounded Brand as he stood back up.
Luke lost his footing as the ground around him shook, but he was able to recover. He winced, however, when an arrow imbedded itself into his right shoulder blade. He turned around to see another arrow flying toward him and Niethel already fitting another to his bow. Making a mental note to not turn his back to the archer, Luke caught the arrow out of the air with with his left hand and leaped back, outside of everyone's active range. As he reached his muscled arm behind him and pulled out the first arrow, Demenn and the others gathered together once again. Niethel looked at the large crater in the ground and then at Brand, questioningly. Brand only shrugged as the shield in his hand, singed but still very solid, morphed into a sword.
"I am a shaman, and there will always be trees. With their life, I have found the true form of the werewolf." He said it as if it explained everything, and it was only then that Demenn realized he had not been entirely accurate when he had thought that Brand had stayed in his elf form. Brand did look very much like his old self, it was true, and he still had no eyes, but there was something distinctly sharp about his face that had never been there before, it was almost as if before Brand had only been seen through a blurry mirror, but now was the first time Demenn could see him for real. Also, his hair was much more unkempt than it had been before, and lastly, his forearms and calves seemed to be twice the size they usually were. Truly, it seemed to Demenn, this was what the perfect werewolf should be: quick and strong, intelligent and brutal. But how long could Brand stay in this form?
"Regardless, I suppose that we can assume his gauntlet gives him elemental powers or some such ability. But it seems that he can only send it where his fingers can point, so he should only be able to cover between ninety and one-hundred-and-forty degrees of his body. We should try to avoid attacking from angles less than one-hundred-and-twenty degrees." Demenn was the most experienced in magic out of the group, so everyone deferred to him in that area in the same way they listened to Varus about weapons.
"I think I can deflect his mace." Demenn also noticed that Brand's voice seemed clearer than ever, but yet had a slight rasp behind it. It was almost impossible to hear, but it was growing imperceptibly each time he spoke.
"Really?" Despite being black and demonic, Varus's face was still able to display his incredulity sufficiently. "Are you sure?"
Brand shrugged. "Kind of."
Varus's mind started working again. "Okay then, if you can send it right back at him, Demenn and I should be able to get in at least one blow each. His length is his weakness."
They were prepared, but Luke did not attack. He held the two arrows he had gained in his left hand and shifted his eyes toward the party.
"I think this calls for a different approach." He spoke softly as he clenched his hand. Then the arrows were zooming back at the party. They both glowed like they were made of hot coals.
"Dammit, dodge!" They scattered, but as the two arrows hit the ground where they had been they both exploded into small infernos. Niethel had been the closest, and was blown back and to the ground, but the other three were more successful in dodging the explosions. They successfully got out of the way and swiftly began to circle Luke. He calmly spun his large mace above his head as the moved until they were each a third of the way around him. Once they reached their designated spots, with Brand in the front and the other two behind, they charged.
Luke looked from one to the other quickly, sized up the situation, then shoved his gauntlet into the ground. Immediately the floor under the three fighters began to kick and heave underneath them. Tiles slid and jumped around as they were torn from their moorings. Demenn and Brand both staggered around, unsure of their footing, but Varus simply took to the air once again and barely even slowed his assault.
"You are beginning to be a nuisance." Luke swung around and wa
ved his gauntlet at Varus, throwing out five lances of lighting directly at him. Had Varus been forced to rely only on his own reaction time, he would have certainly been struck, but as it was, he was shifting his wings even before the bolts flew from the magical item, and thus successfully barrel-rolled out of the way before righting himself and flying forward once again. Luke followed him closely, and slapped his hand through the air back in Varus's direction, summoning a huge gust of wind that caught Varus's wings and flung him back.
Even as Varus tumbled head over heels away from Luke, though, Demenn and Brand charged at him once again. Shifting his eyes from one to the other, Luke shot a blast of blistering frost at Brand while he whipped his flail one-handed at Demenn. Brand growled in frustration as he pivoted, ran to the side of the magical blast, then began running back once again, while at the same time, Demenn simply jumped back and out of range of the ball that was sent after him in haste. The attacks had both failed, and Brand was still coming strong.
It was at that moment, with both Demenn and Varus just barely out of his range, and with Brand just inside of it, that Luke finally made the decision. He spun, swept another gust of wind at Varus, grabbed the handles with both hands, aimed, and launched his flail straight at Brand with all of his strength and precision. Brand almost yelled with released frustration now that Luke had finally gone along with their plan. He jumped into the air straight at the morning star's head, changed his sword back into a large club, and finally slammed it into the front of the mace—barely missing the spikes and hitting the smooth ball itself. Demenn could have sworn he felt the impact of the two weapons, such was the power that he felt when they met. For what seemed like seconds, they hung in limbo, neither moving forward or backward nor losing power and falling down, but then Brand's club splintered into two separate pieces and the mace continued past it. Its momentum was stolen, however, and it seemed to move at a snail's pace when compared to how fast in normally went. Even as it came right at Brand, however, he continued with the momentum of the swing of his club, spun all the way back around, and slammed his clenched fist—which was now covered with the rest of the wood that had been in his hand—into the same place he had hit it before. This time, his perfect werewolf strength was clearly superior to the force of the mace, and the flail was sent flying straight back at Luke. When it was directly over his shoulder, about four feet above him, Demenn and Varus charged in from opposite sides.
