The Keepers of Chaos: A Vault of Hell

Markos Amanodel: CXLV

Believer: CXLV

"Eh... ehh.." Markos huffed breathlessly, raising his trident to once again meet Victoro's rapier in combat. With every clash sparks flew against the nearby stone walls, he backed the man ever closer to the enormous gold statue of Asmodeus. It wasn't how many wounds he had, or the blood running down his hands from how hard he was hitting. No, neither of those things did much to scare him. Instead, it was the expression Victoro had on his face. It was so.. Determined. He didn't look worried or concerned, his face wasn't full of anguish. Victoro had one hand behind his back, gripping a black cane. While his right hand twirled and stabbed with an elaborate rapier. Markos twisted his leg twirling around in a circle. He made a rapid slice at the nobleman's head; it was attentively blocked, but he rapidly dropped his trident cutting the cloth on Victoro's arm. "Hello, Non-believers!" He looked over his shoulder, noticing two cultists closing in from either side.

"Do you have any other greetings?" Victoro demanded.

'We have several! Call him a non-beli- shit!' One voice cursed.

"Hold on! Hold on!" He batted aside an attack from a cultist. "Join my not-cult! I can offer pensions!" They didn't seem to hear him. Markos shrugged, twisting away he rapidly stabbed the cultist on his left. It was not even a competition, his trident pushed through her eye sockets tearing apart whatever brain was still in there. He pulled it free quickly. Showering blood in an arc over his head Markos brought the sides of his weapon back down slicing an arm off. He had little time to swing his trident around, Victoro was so very fast, the rapier darted at his back. Markos spun around swatting it aside, but it was feeble. The Priest of hell reposted without missing a beat turning the momentum around in a spin.

"Agh!" Markos yelped, the rapier hit his shoulder. He kicked away stumbling back from the winged gold statue. His combed and curled hair bounced on his face. More strikes came at him. "Ph'ngyui nhae ehye tahl!" Purple and black energy crackled at the tip of his trident, he reached out grabbing the one-armed cultist at his right, and threw it into Victoro. He wasn't sure what to expect, but the result was odd. Victoro didn't simply throw the young kid aside. Instead, his eyes went wide, his lips fumbled. The priest grabbed the cultist and spun around setting him on the floor gently. "Mistake." Markos sneered. He shoved the trident into the man's stomach pulsating electricity all over his being. It was a critical blow, booming blade struck again.

"Frahgg!" Victoro hollard, he grabbed the base of the prongs of the trident yanking it out of his stomach. "Gryyl Fiamme colpiscono vujuly!" The hairs on the back of Markos's neck stood up he recognized the dual chant incantation just used by Victoro. The front end of the rapier exploded in red divine light, while the blade itself ignite furiously into green flames. Death thrust at him.

'Good dog..' He shivered to the voice of his Uheo.. She was watching him. Markos segmented his trident up catching the rapier in between the prongs of his polearm. Flames surged over his head igniting the cloth banners above him. With a hard twist Markos pulled the rapier down clattering it to the floor, the divine strike sent shockwaves into the stones below them.

"Ha!" He chuckled, he dove in for another stab. "Gl-" He was left with no time to react, a pulsating nausea overtook his head, sensing danger. His right calf exploded in agony with a bone shard sticking out of it, he turned his head slicing through the other two spikes being thrown his way. Small beady black eyes stared at him from above, the flapping wings of a red spined devil threw dust everywhere. "Oh hi- I'm guessing you want a pension?" Markos threw his trident into the devil, drawing a spurt of blood. "Nogephaii nwnglui." The trident folded out of space and returned to his palm. "Da Hur Ctugraha." The ground below Victoro erupted with a yellow sprawling portal opening, a small green tentacle pushed out swatted the priest in the hip. Cerdest hovered over his shoulder, Markos was surrounded by a cultist, a devil, and a priest. But he also had his familiar, one tentacle, and at least seven other personalities.