The Necessary Evil (Open)

[Brett]

Since coming to Earth to help Michael and his crew to become stronger so that they might face the coming invasion, the Daemon invaders had become more bold in their attacks on the human population. The news was filled with stories of mysterious attacks, brutal deaths and suspicious disappearances and yet they refused to address the common factor in all of these events, that was the unnatural creatures performing these assaults. Isaan was amazed by the human ability to stick their heads into holes in the ground, rather than face a truth that went against what they thought to be true.

Today he faced yet another Daemon invader, this one was more than a mindless beast, it had even taken a hostage to stop him being wreckless. Out in the open in broad daylight, the empty square of a small Dutch town was occupied by the silently glaring Isaan, the madly cackling Daemon caught in his own apparent wit and the frightened girl with an enchanted blade to her throat ready to take her life away if she tried to flee or the man across from she and her captor made a single wrong move. It must have been terrifying for her, knowing her life was in the hands of this stranger with odd purple eyes and hair the colour of blood.

"I know how much of a weakness you've got for mortals!" the Daemon cackled, licking the terrified girl's cheek in a provocative manner. "You wouldn't want this one to die because of you, right, God of Chaos?"

Reaching inside of the dark grey trench coat and then inside the jacket of the fine, black three piece suit, Isaan withdrew a golden pocket watch and took a look at it. After pocketing it again, he withdrew the old flintlock pistol he'd always carried from inside the trenchcoat and fired. The bullet didn't hit the Daemon, however, but the girl he was clutched directly between the eyes, she was dead immediately. The Daemon looked shocked and threw the girl's body forward, Isaan moved rapidly and caught her with his free arm on the way down so she didn't collide with the ground, lowering her to it onto her back respectfully.

"What the fuck, man?!" the Daemon cried, laughing insanely and with a delicious hint of fear.

"Now we've determined you have no leverage," he said quietly, standing up after closer the girl's eyes properly. "One life for the life of the town, a fair trade. She will be assured a place in paradise for the sacrifice... you on the other hand..."

Raising the pistol again it transformed in his grip into the large, high calibur rifle that his adopted sister had made for him to his exact specifications, a gift he had carried with him thousands of years now. The Daemon recoiled and looked around for a place to flee to, but he knew that even if he ran he wasn't going to be quick enough to flee the being they referred to as the fastest in existence.

"You're meant to protect mortals, right?!" the Daemon cried, trying to argue for his life. "How can you just kill some girl and not even pause?! I thought you were all about conscience!"

Isaan didn't reply and fired without a breath of hesitation, the Daemon stumbled on the spot before crumbled into burning ash, carried away on the cold late winter wind. Lowering his weapon it returned to its pistol form, before being holstered inside of his coat again, he knelt down beside the girl and sighed heavily. Being the evil necessary for the good of the universe was difficult, killing like this was never easy even if he simply cast it aside as acceptable losses in a time of war.

"A Daemon trying to lecture someone on conscience, there's a stand-up routine if ever I saw one." he uttered, placing a hand on the girl so that her body turned to ash too, the best way to hide the evidence. Her soul was safe, that was all that mattered and her sacrifice saved many other lives from a Daemon's claws.

[Brett]

Father Emmanuel inhaled sharply. He had been watching from the window an empty café that looked out onto the square, he had watched as the daemon he had summoned held the girl hostage, he had watched as their foe had killed the girl and then dispatched the daemon with such ease it sent a chill to the Father's very core. He couldn't watch any more, it was life or death now that his daemon ally had fallen, he had to summon something stronger for to give him time to flee.

Despite having never tried, the Father cut his wrist and began to fill the goblet with his blood, laying out all of the symbols necessary to perform the summoning. He would drain his magical power in one go to do this and it'd take a good few months to fully regain it, but if it meant his escape and going into hiding it was more than worth it. He began to chant before the symbols that formed the gateway, the blood began to bubble in a disgusting manner in the goblet, before he poured the blood onto the symbol.

The symbol seemed to claim the blood, slowly it reddened as the blood ran around its length and then the circular pentragram in the center began to spiral until it opened, burning heat pouring from the mouth of the gateway between Hell and Earth.

"Come forth!" he cried, though it was more like an urgent whisper than a yell, lest the man outside heard him. "Our enemy is here, the King of Devils! He's alone and vulnerable!"

[corinthius]

The gateway stayed open for only a brief period of time before closing shut, with nothing but a thin whisp of a black smoke-like substance remaining, floating up towards the ceiling above where the gateway had been. The room became unnaturally silent, even the ambient noises from elsewhere in the town could no longer be heard. An intense cold followed, as the shadows in the room began to shift, turning against the direction in which the light hit the objects which cast them.

A scraping noise, like metal on stone, cut through the deathly silence and caused the sorcerer to let out a small yelp of surprise.

"Idiot."

Father Emmanuel looked around but couldn't find the source of the deep, rasping voice which spoke to him.

"My old boss is here, and you summon me to try and kill him. Oh the irony..."

His own still-beating heart in Corinthius' clawed grasp was the last thing that Father Emmanuel saw as he slumped to the ground, dead at the feet of the one daemon in all of Hell who would not relish the chance of at least trying to kill the God of Chaos. Corinthius stood up and walked out of the building, his still smouldering, tattered wings trailing ash and sulphur along the ground behind him. As he walked into the street, the shadows danced all around him (he would say out of joy at seeing him again), before finally converging around himself and Isaan, hiding them from mortal and immortal eyes in Corinthius' own "realm of shadows".

The daemon inclined his head slightly as he came to a standstill, though his hands rested on his old, faithful skull-pommelled daggers, unsure of how the God would react to his presence, and he wouldn't be going down again without a fight, though he wished it wouldn't come to that.

"A'vron..it's..nice to see you again?" he said, raising an eyebrow and flashing a forced, fanged grin.

[saraneth]

As the sun rose, a dew drop became aware of its surroundings. There it sat on a leaf; catching the sunlight and throwing it back out. Proud of its simple beauty, it was very content. Around it were other dew drops, some on the same leaf and some on other leaves round about. The dew drop was sure that it was the best, the most special dew drop of them all. Ah, it was good to be a dew drop.

The wind rose and the plant began to shake, tipping the leaf. Terror gripped the dew drop as gravity pulled it towards the edge of the leaf, towards the unknown. Shadows gripped the surrounding area plummeting the world of the dew drop into darkness.

Devante stared inconspicuously towards his foot as he noticed the wet smear on his shoe, turning as pale as a white sheet he’d stagger backwards only to be caught by a swift gravitational pull of his younger Sister, swirling, dancing captivated in the wind. “Alas! My beautiful leather shoes, ruined! What good is a life when one cannot step outside without being defiled by torment?” Lulling his head back Devante became overwhelmed with a dramatic numbness that if it were not staged would claim him into unconsciousness.

Saraneth slowly twirled herself through the air, her long white wings holding her aloft like an elegant humming bird, with the accompanied trill of her giggle she might as well passed off as one. She loved her brother’s idiotic behaviour, and what better way to seize the day by acting upon her dream last night, and dragging Devante into it? Hardly containing her excitement Saraneth landed on the floor skipping towards Devante who still hovered over the wet terrain, her black Victorian dress catching in the wind.

Prying open his eyes Devante caught the innocent glimpse of his little sister’s technicoloured eyes and a slim smile causing her plump cheeks to light a soft hue of pink. Quirking a thin brow the extravagant male would try to sit up but the force of his sister’s powers held him down, this could not be good. “Come with me now on a magical journey, through time and space to the world of the mighty grandfather.” ‘Oh fudge buckets’

Above of Isaan a little distorted wave would sting the sky as two figures popped into view like someone turning on an old television. Instantly the gagging of Devante feeling sick would be unmistakable and the sudden slam of his body on the floor as Saraneth had dropped him to appear at her Grand Father’s side expecting a hug, a smug smile on her face. The games had begun again, and she was getting all the more of a pain in the ass to keep separated as her powers grew, but the small vision she had in her dream had not prepared her for what she had landed the two siblings in.

[Brett]

The smell of sulfur where there should be none was the undeniable sign of daemon presence, but Isaan did not move to defend himself or assault the fallen devil that approached him, even as the shadows closed around them both he remained with his hands dug deep into the pockets of his trousers watching. When Corinthius addressed him he withdrew his hands from the pockets, drawing out that old cigarette case and lighter set he had carried since Altera. Lighting up, he pushed the case and lighter back into his pocket and left his hands there, considering Corinthius with a hard stare for a moment.

"You don't have the right to greet me," he said coldly, the images of Corinthus' fall flashing into his mind as though they had happened only yesterday despite a great deal of time having passed since then.

His fallen charge had brought a lot of dishonour to his name. Immortals who turned immortals could well be seen to take on a parental role for the turned, of course Isaan was hardly the parental type back when Corinthius had been cast down, in fact he was perhaps more immature than Corinthius was despite the vast age difference. But now he was a father of several children, time had taught him a lot of lessons in no small part thanks to Corinthius' fall, he had learned not to trust mortals with the power of the divines so easily anymore. In truth, Isaan had become jaded.

"This must be some sort of cosmic idea of a sense of humour," he said, the icy tone lifting somewhat as he took a step forward with the same unthreatening composure. "I've been watching you since I cast you down, for someone used to doing things quietly and under the radar you sure make a lot of noise. Was that for my benefit?"

Before Corinthius could answer properly, the sudden appearance of Saraneth and Devante made Isaan turn his head, the innocent eyed little girl was looking at him expecting a hug and some sort of praise for having managed to find him - especially here in a place few could penetrate. He put a hand on the little girl's hair and gently ruffled her hair, but he didn't smile or show any approval of her presence, this was not the kind of situation his young granddaughter should be in. Nor his grandson, for that matter, who despite being older was also a youngster in comparison to both Isaan and Corinthius.

"Saraneth," he said sternly, but with all the warmth of a grandparent that couldn't quite be mad at the little girl who gave him such adoring eyes. "You should not be here, this is not a place for you or Devante."

His eyes raised and went to Corinthius again, his hand was still resting gently on the top of the little girl's head, apparently as a form of protection just in case. Though truthfully Isaan didn't feel Corinthius would attack any of them, from what he had seen all he yearned for was redemption, something that was impossible for most daemons. "If you have anything to say, then speak Corin."

[corinthius]

"You could have ripped out my lungs to stop me speaking if I "don't have the right" to greet you. Yet you didn't. So I greeted you. Bitter old...hmph." Corinthius grumbled as he relaxed his grip on his daggers. He knew very well the history between himself and Isaan, and knew, or hoped, that Isaan's ire would not be raised by one flippant, cheeky comment. If he wanted to, Isaan would have left the fallen devil to the Creator's mercy all those years ago, yet he didn't - so he knew that he was safe, at least while he had information useful for the impending war against Hell.

He ignored the comment about making a lot of noise. His time spent in Hell had been rather violent after the first couple of years when he began to transform from a broken shell of a lost soul into the powerful, daemonic being that he had become - but he quickly realised that to be of any use, he had to be sure that somebody on the outside could still see him there, so that they could see anything that he discovered. Though, what he had discovered he was sure not even Isaan knew, as he had been using every last bit of power he had to conceal himself to get close enough to the very highest ranking denizens of Hell, and he had discovered something truly unnerving.

When the two young Immortals appeared in his realm, Corinthius raised an eyebrow. Never before had anyone been able to breach its perimeter, even if by some accident. He quickly wrapped the shadows around himself before they noticed him, concealing his features from them so as to not alarm them, the thought of their elder talking in private to a daemon would surely be difficult to explain to those, at least from Corinthius' perspective, with so little experience of life. "More kids, Isaan? What is that now...ten thousand?" he remarked with a sigh.

He gave Isaan a level stare before speaking again, the news he had was grim indeed, and not something that his old friend would be happy to hear, that much he knew.
"There's just one thing I have to say, A'vron. Lucifer isn't top dog in Hell. I don't know who is, I couldn't see their faces or hear what they said...but he knelt before them. Doesn't seem like something he'd do for a subordinate."

[devante]

Now, as far as grandchildren go, Thia had birthed three very gifted and very queer children with unique assets that would leave even the oldest immortal baffled. Corinthius having yet to be graced by the spawn of the young girl with flaming hair would first likely notice the small girl more than the collapsed lanky figure on the floor just a few steps behind Isaan. The small female hybrid in blood stands next to her Grandfather adorned in a pastel blue Lolita dress with filly material stitched to the collar of the dress, puffy sleeves and white bunnies that scattered across the hem. Her bright red hair flaming in the sun marred that of Isaan and Thia as ruby as satin blood, the long strands had been crudely pulled back into pig tails that perhaps at the start of the day would have looked neat and well groomed, but as the day progressed loose strands had escaped and scattered down her round face. The girl, clinging a small hand to the thigh of her grandfather, would look towards the space that Corinthius occupied in his shadowed realm eerily knowingly. The female’s hybrid eyes, purple and silver hold something strange about them as she stays rigid with a simple smile causing her cheeks to puff.

Groaning from behind the two figures the tall lanky teenager would haul himself from the ground spluttering as though he’d been running around with his mouth wide to catch flies. As far as things appear for Devante he has never come across as a powerful immortal and perhaps if he had been born less charismatic and held a more present way of dressing he’d go about unnoticed. But alas this –is- Thia’s child we talk of. Two butter yellow eyes sweep over his appearance intensely searching for any damage to his appearance, though as luck would have it he would have managed to escape Saraneth’s latest fiasco unscathed. The tall, lean man looked as if he had travelled back in time, wearing Gothic Victorian clothing with the singular white glove upon his right hand. At his sides holstered in black leather sat two pistols as black as the rest of his appearance connected by a chain that seemed well covered by his trench coat. His free wild black locks reaching to shoulder height would soon become covered by black tendrils as a top hat takes shape. Visibly the man would take a moment to collect himself, inhaling slowly before he’d turn and point accusingly towards Saraneth “You! Life was so much easier when your clothes didn’t match and boys had cooties!” Letting out an exasperated moan the male would turn to see his grandfather draining any colour he had adorned quite literally, his body would turn black and white; colour draining from his clothes. "Saraneth, I need you to listen very carefully to me sweetie…” crawling on all fours with an arm reaching out to tug on Saraneth’s hem he’d say in barely a whisper “You need to take me back home alright?”

Turning her head with a sweet smile Saraneth shake her head innocently.

Sprawled on the floor Devante’s eyes widen in what could be considered mock horror at the sight of his sister denying him. “In my defence, before you blame her being my responsibility! Adorable children are considered to be the general property of the human race. Rude children belong to their mothers.” Rolling across the floor Devante would haul himself up to a sitting position with a mask across his face like the Japanese do to ward off getting sick. As he pry’s himself from the floor a little penguin would appear as though it had just been laid on wearing questionable ladies undergarments. “JEREMY! I TOLD YOU TO NOT WEAR LACE IN A SUNDAY!”

[thomas]

A hunched figure sat crouched in a nearby rooftop, cloaked by magic and hidden from sight from the square by a nearby chimney. It had become habit for Thomas to trail Isaan whenever possible, desperate as he was to learn more about himself, the god, and the true nature of the universe. Of course, he was rarely able to track the fastest being alive, but his efforts paid off on the rare occasions such as this when he was able to watch the elder god fight.

Since joining Michael's crew, it had become obvious to Thomas that he did not fit in amongst them. His ignorance was simply too great so he had set out to learn more. Michael generally could not have a conversation in which he did not in some way mock or criticise Thomas for stubbornly clinging on to his faith (He was still convinced that Christianity itself was not a bad thing, rather that it had been infiltrated by evil doers) so the devil had taken to avoiding him where possible. Isaan then seemed the best person to learn from, though he was reluctant to speak with the god. His perceptions of the world had been shattered by him and had not quite rebuilt themselves yet.

What he saw now hardly helped matters. It had taken all his self control not to fire at the demon in the first place -He knew he could have killed it and saved the girl but, apart from the punishment he would likely have to face from Isaan, the whole purpose of him being here was to watch and not to act. But when he saw Isaan shoot her down without hesitation, it left him chilled and deeply disturbed. Were they not supposed to be on the side of righteousness in this war? Worse was the thought that perhaps this was how devils were meant to act, that he was the oddity.

Then the glimpse of an unmistakeably demonic creature approaching the god before shrouding the square in shadows. Had it addressed him as a friend? It was difficult for him to hear from his vantage point. His curiosity and growing sense of fear was too much to overcome at this point. Consequences be damned.

The young devil leaped down from the rooftop, landing in a crouch before springing up and approaching the veil of shadow. When his progress was barred by it, he scowled and drew his sword, spinning it in his hand so the blade faced backwards. Infusing it with his energy, he plunged the blade towards the shadowy wall. While he knew his own powers were unlikely to be enough to break the wall, it would undoubtably alert whoever had made it and hopefully allow him to learn just what the Hell was going on.

[Brett]

"These are my grandchildren by Thia," he replied, looking down at Saraneth now standing behind him and looking knowingly in the direction of the veiled Corinthius.

Isaan lifted his head from the girl to look at Corinthius when he spoke again, this time though he was given news he neither expected, nor wanted. He unconsciously removed his hand from the little girl's head and put the arm around her instead, almost as if he was protecting her from a threat that wasn't actually present but still set him on edge and alert to the dangers. His eyes remained on Corinthius though, seeming to look for any sign of a lie, but the exile was not lying and clearly had only good intentions despite what Isaan had had to do to him to keep him alive.

"Lucifer knelt before another?" he asked, frowning with obvious concern. "We have never felt nor seen any daemon more powerful than Lucifer in Hell, if there is some overlord in the shadows pulling the strings that brings a lot of supposed facts into question."

With this information it suggested the daemons may not be as divided as they seemed, that the supposed daemon lords who were more like petty warlords, constantly trying to screw each other over may merely be putting on a show for their devil prison keepers. That the elder gods had not seen this overlord was also a threat, because it meant that the being who truly ruled Hell was powerful enough to avoid their omnipotence. Corinthius was risking a great deal telling Isaan this, a being that powerful would surely know of him telling the daemons' worst enemy - the King of Devils - of his or her existence.

He had been about to say something more when several things happened at once, Devante had another one of his overly dramatic episodes, telling Saraneth off for bringing him with her because of his unexplained and strange alergy to his grandfather's presence. Then moments later the penguin appeared in its questionable ladies undergarments, which made Isaan really being to wonder exactly what kind of weird relationship Devante actually had with this 'Jeremy' creature. For a moment he stared at the two blankly, feeling like he was back in the Midnight Realm at the manor.

Then came the energy, a string of events not related but causing a string of interruptions so that the ruler of the Underworld hadn't had a chance to get out what he wanted to say. He knew all about Thomas trying to follow him of course, he was an elder god he couldn't not be aware of it, but he'd allowed it because it had been a way to try and teach Thomas the true way of things without sitting and running him through some tedious lesson. But now he would surely have questions, why Isaan had killed the innocent human girl and why he was hiding in these shadows, talking to a daemon.

The shadows were abolished suddenly and even Corinthius was left in the open air of the square, Isaan's purple eyes fell upon Thomas and he turned toward him fully with no sign of surprise at his presence, in fact he even nodded at him as though he knew exactly what he was going to ask.

"You are thinking you could have killed the daemon before the girl died," he said, shaking his head. "No, even I would have been too slow to stop it, thus your presumption is a folly considering you cannot even keep up with me enough to tail me unless I leave an intentional trail. If a daemon kills a mortal they are doomed to Hell due to the daemon's taint, it is irreversible. My killing her ensured she was alocated to paradise, where her soul will be free."

There it was, the fact he knew of Thomas following him revealed. Of course even if he wasn't a god he'd have noticed, Isaan was a man who was trained in espionage, assassination and counter-espionage. He knew how to cover a trail and when he was being followed.

"As for him," he paused, indicating Corinthius before continuing. "He is an inside agent planted by me, he is a daemon - but he was a devil. You don't need to know the events that led to his change, you need only know he is loyal and that I trust him."

That wasn't entirely true, that was to say Isaan trusted Corinthius and had never stopped trusting him even in spite of what his grief had led him to do, but Corinthius had never been a double agent - but the fact he had given information had given Isaan the idea of passing him off as one to save the trouble of explaining properly. He crossed his arms and fixed Thomas with his glare again, not looking all too happy with his presence, but then he still didn't entirely trust Thomas due to his devotion to that ridiculous false religion that had been set up as a part of the daemons' plans for Earth.

"You're still skeptical of me," he insisted, still looking displeased. "You're just another indoctrinated slave of the daemons' false religion. Until you learn to let it go, you will never understand your place or learn the truth. That's why Michael mocks you."

[corinthius]

Corinthius gave the slightest smirk as he observed Isaan's reaction to his news of a higher power than Lucifer in Hell: not that he derived humour from an obviously ominous revalation for the Divines, but that he missed this - being Isaan's agent in the shadows, his silent blade in the night. For centuries he had guarded much of the universe as the finest assassin in existence, at least one who wasn't a God, but the past few hundred years in exile had been painful for him, not being able to do what he loved. In truth, the brief, easily missed glimpse of emotion was a sign that Corinthius was proud of himself for doing something useful again, instead of lurking in Hell constantly hunting, and being hunted by daemons.

He blatantly refused to register the existence of the penguin in drag, passing it off as simply a hallucination: so much time spent in a place meant to break minds allowing him to reach such a conclusion. What he couldn't ignore, however, was the energy that was exerted on his own. Faint, but strong enough for him to realise that it was a deliberate and direct attack to get attention.

Thomas had his attention, now it was up to the young devil to prove that wasn't a bad thing.

Even as Isaan spoke, Corinthius left his body, his "true" form - that is, the ultimate expression of his power over the shadows, which allowed him to project his very soul into the shadows around him - winding its way over the short distance, shadows cast by objects and the gathered Immortals shifting on the ground to defy the sun's light and point directly at Thomas. Thomas' own shadow stood up from the ground and began warping unnaturally. After a brief moment, where once the outline of the devil had stood, there now stood the image of a grinning shadow, an echo of what Corinthius had once looked like before becoming a daemon.

"Don't sugarcoat what I am, A'vron." he sneared, placing both hands on Thomas' shoulders and leaning his head in and whispering into the devil's ear, so that only he (and likely Isaan) could hear, "I destroyed an entire solar system full of life. What have you done lately, Christian? Not much I bet...you want to know why A'vron's talking with me? Because I'm the only daemon in Hell who's on your side."

With that, he released his grip on Thomas' shoulders and slid back through the shadows to his body, the same grin he had worn as he whispered into the devil's ear playing on his body's lips. "Oh, and about that Christian thing...you know there's this saying I've heard in Hell: 'As gullible as an Earthling.'. This whole religion thing is a running joke for them. I suggest you start reconsidering your Sunday routine...maybe go see a play, or go to a strip club...either way, won't make a damn bit of difference where you end up when you eventually die, kid."

[saraneth]

Waves of static distorts Saraneth’s perpetual hearing, droning and fading the beginnings and ends of words that come and go dying out to more static. Thick white noise frays the ends of decibels reaching the sharps and flats of notes that test the power of her fragile ear drums. Finally, after minutes that could easily be misinterpreted into hours of the same tangible cry for any reception a clear strong voice breaks through the static. “If you were to consider the different paths of space and time then you would inevitably reach the possibility of alternative worlds and alternate futures. One that branches off the earth we know as and live in today. A thread of string connecting our minds to somewhere that might not be as far away as it seems, to witness a future of people not unlike you and me who have to shape their destinies and overcome otherworldly odds.” The voice reminds the small girl of the human from those documentaries that Sabriel lets her watch from time to time. Staring directly towards the patch of darkness in the colourless scenery around her Saraneth’s eyes watched Corinthius with a glint in her eyes marring the mixture of harshness and compassion that you would expect of an aged immortal who has seen too much of their share of battle and the worse sides of what our lives offer. Static still presses against her mind as another voice probes her attention “From the Ashes of our past a new Dawn is coming.” Words over-lap with reality “Lucifer bows to another” “A banner of light carried by blinding figures walks the dislocated earth, an army of light…” She had seen it before, a long time ago when she was sick. Something distorted that slots the first pieces into place as she stares towards Corinthius a figure of light that does not blind her large eyes. Pain ebbed at the edge of her mind, remembering was difficult and even more so with her brother’s unconscious shield marring her vision. Raising a hand towards Devante he would begin to fade away back home to where he and Jeremy would not distort her mind with protective powers.
Courageous cheers of determination fades to static... static fades to nothing. Nothing gives way to the calling, the calling of what is to come.

Finally blinking away from her brief foreboding of the future Saraneth pries her gaze from Corinthius long enough to cast a look at her Grandfather, a frown far too complex for one so young wavers her soft features. The small tear birth mark on her forehead shimmers slightly as she speaks in a voice that doesn’t match her usual “The Lights Grace is not that at the end of the tunnel it is the hue that guides you through it. The future is clouded Grand Father.” Glancing sideways at Thomas the girl’s troubled expression turns ashen until she finally rests her eyes back upon Corinthius meeting his eyes with a sad smile. Her tiny hands grip too tightly onto Isaan’s arm.

[thomas]

Thomas tensed involuntarily as he felt the demonic presence behind him, grip tightening around his blade. He had fought and killed numerous demons in his time and had learned many of their tricks, but never had he seen one with the ability to twist shadows in such a way. It unnerved him. However, with the exception of this brief lapse he maintained his composure, even turning to look directly (as much as "directly" applied to Corinthius in his current state) and replying "I would think it more gullible to take spiritual advice from one of the damned, wouldn't you?"

Sheathing his sword, he turned to face Isaan and inclined his head slightly, though was careful to always keep an eye on the location of the twisted shadow. Just because the demon claimed to be an ally didn't mean he had to trust him.
"I am afraid it is my nature to be skeptical of that which I do not understand, and I apologise for that. I am yet ignorant of many things. However, i think that you may find I am remarkably lax in the concern of my faith when you consider I was raised to value it over my own life."

He considered risking a second glance at the penguin but his better judgement won over. He had learned from his previous encounter with Devante that often it was safer simply not asking, especially if one valued their sanity.

[Brett]

Isaan gently stroked the red hair of the child gripping tightly onto his arm, he had stopped paying attention to the people around him at this point, his eyes had turned pointedly toward the sky. It had blackened since their arriva as though a storm was approaching, but looking from side to side for a moment he saw not a single sign of blue even in the distance, it was as if the entire area even past the horizon was blanketed by these foreboding clouds that began to rumble threateningly. Yet there was no sign of lightning, thunder but no lightning to speak of, despite how loud the rumbling echoed all around them.

"We've run out of time," he said, reaching down and picking his granddaughter up into the safety of his arms. "They've arrived."

As he spoke the black clouds swirled into what looked like the eye of a storm, but rather than being able to see beyond to the sky, the view was mired by an orange light that seemed to blaze with heat that made it feel like the summer sun was hitting them. There was another thunder, but the source of this thunder was clear now, it came from these vast circles of fiery orange in the sky springing up all over the Earth and now the reason was made clear. Plumes of fire, almost like asteroids began to fall from the massive holes in the sky, crashing down to earth several of them collided with the small dutch village they all stood in and then the screams began and the panic set in.

"We need to leave now," he insisted, despite the humans dying as those asteroids were revealed not to be asteroids at all, but rather collections of daemons crushed together by the force of gravity as they were shot from the massive hellgates. Daemon hounds tore into humans and burned them to ash with breath of hellfire, footsoldiers standing a full two feet taller than a human crushed them with bare hands, and cleaved them in two with giant swords that smouldered with the heats of Hell. It was chaos, humanity was not prepared but then it never was going to be, there was no way to persuade them this was coming before it happened - they had to persuade them now to unify.

Before anyone could argue, everyone (Corinthius included) was suddenly dragged through a teleportation, torn from their location and carried to the pocket realm where he kept Michael, Sarah and Joseph during their training. They would naturally still be there, they landed on grass next to a tree on a reasonably sized floating island, that looked out onto the rest of the immortal realm but wasn't actually a part of it almost like looking at it through a window but unable to get through. "Lucifer was ready, the power I used to shield Earth would only last so long, he invaded soon as it fell."

[corinthius]

Corinthius blinked and stared up at the sky as the Daemons began their assault. "Oh..there was also this one other thing I was going to tell you, but..meh, don't see the point now." he smirked. In truth, he hadn't known the armies of Hell were mobilising so soon, but he hid his surprise as always behind his dry sense of humour.

Another thing he didn't expect was to be teleported away from Earth, away from the fight. If there was one thing he didn't do well, it was running away from the chance to slaughter Daemons. This didn't sit well with him. "A'vron..you..IDIOT! You should have left me there. Do you know how many of them I could have taken down?! How many people I could have..saved.."

He stopped bitching for a moment and thought. Isaan had likely just saved his life. Even though he had only sensed weaker forms of daemonic life, their numbers could have overwhelmed him, and even if they didn't, as soon as anything stronger came to Earth he would have certainly died.

Without skipping another beat, he yet again veiled himself in shadows, hiding his daemonic appearance. He hadn't wanted to reveal himself to be a daemon to those who had already seen him, and he doubted that any of Isaan's other allies would be better off not knowing that he was a daemon should they come to this place.