Skirmish III
Dagon rose from her seat. Languishing time had ended a few minutes ago yet here she was staring at the flying witches dropping potions unto the ground. She had expected retaliation from her siblings, but from the escaped prisoner? That was unexpected and downright amusing.
She gazed towards the proxy, and immediately forgot what the demon's name was. She closed her eyes, blinking away the forgetfulness before calling out to Meg.
"Do you wanna join in on the fun?" She asked mirthfully.
The demon scoffed while shaking her head. "No, thanks. If you could just hand over the blade and then I could go back. I need to rest for a while."
"I heard. How's the Winchester taste?" A giggle escaped Dagon, always looking out for the next bright thing.
Meg thought for a while. "Not bad. Not… bad at all."
Dagon snapped her fingers and demons appeared from within the walls.
The demon bowed its head before turning towards Meg. "If you would follow me."
Having been left alone, Dagon showed a devious gleam in her eyes and rose from her seat.
Although her High Priestess had told her of an incoming invasion, the specificity of the portent was never their best suit. Little did she know that her liar of a toy would bring about the end of her peaceful life within her sanctuary.
Her body hovered a few inches off the ground as she glided through the air and jumped down onto the balcony of her room. The wind battered her meat puppet as she descended the pavilion like a malevolent comet.
Before her form hit the ground, however, she waved her hands and caused the ground beneath her to rise up and create a platform of rock and dirt for her to land gracefully. The rising platform shuddered under her weight before crumbling down into boulder-sized pieces, one of which Dagon used to surf down onto the ground safely.
She might be strong enough to let her meat puppet withstand the fall from such height, but given that the invasion was well underway, and they were losing, it would be better to conserve her energy.
The cloud of dust that accompanied the creation and destruction of the platform subsided after a few moments, revealing the bloodied forms of three figures.
A stout man with warts the size of frogs and reeked of unnatural energy led the trio as they stood in her way. Besides him was a ferocious woman gazing at her like a lioness stalking her prey and the hulking form of a blue-skinned giant with six mushroom-like stumps on his shoulders.
Dagon grinned, sniffing the air and familiarizing herself with their odor.
"Is the woman we need to deal with?" The lion woman asked, not even bothering to greet her.
"Aye. Be ready." Their small leader said.
"Now, now," She spoke, gaining their attention. "Eyes up here, people. We wouldn't want you to miss the show."
●●●●●●
"So stupid." Irwin shook his head as he scrunched his nose at the large temple in front of them.
Although he had noticed that the surviving witches were heading towards this extremely inconspicuous temple in the middle of what was basically a military fortress, he did not actually believe that Dagon would allow the commanders of her Borrower witches to inhabit the establishment.
Now that he had time to think about it, however, it was a decision based on their confidence in their defensive wardings and sigils. Plus, they did not actually think that someone was stupid enough to invade the island with the express purpose of decimating Dagon's forces.
"Higher concentration of magical energy has been detected inside of the temple," Olivette muttered under her breath.
Irwin suddenly grabbed Olivette's arm, pulling her towards an alley just as two witches exited the temple. He hummed in approval as the witches headed in their previous direction.
Irwin dispelled his flaming whip and readied an Angel Blade with a grim smile on his face. He was getting a ton of credits, sure, but he was being a little worried about the quantity of the enemies abound on the island.
He pushed forward, arriving behind the witches in a flash before piercing the left witch's heart. Blood sprayed around the dead body as Irwin pulled out the blade and cut off the witch's head in quick succession.
The rightmost witch was startled and tried to fight back, but Olivette cast a quick hex that disoriented her from the former for a brief moment. A moment Irwin used to release a flurry of stabs and thrusts that ended the life of the witch.
Their bodies had yet to hit the floor when it disintegrated and absorbed into Irwin's body, a now familiar sight to Olivette.
"You look worried." She remarked while gazing around for any signs of their operation being blown.
"No, just… too much enemy for my taste." He muttered. "It doesn't matter. Can you make us invisible?"
Olivette nodded and asked for a specific ingredient which Irwin was more than happy to provide. Within seconds, Olivette has spread an extinct jellyfish mucus on their foreheads and chanted the spell's invocation, which caused their bodies to reflect light.
Their whole body except a tiny point within their eyes. As such, navigating using this invisibility spell was akin to walking while wearing an extremely thin blindfold. Something Richard Greythorne had experienced more than once in his life, so Irwin would just be using his body's muscle memory.
They neared the temple, stepping over the detritus on the streets, and found the entrance free of rubble and guards.
The temple itself was not as tall as the pavilion, but it had occupied a space that was far larger than four building combines. It was situated half a block east of the pavilion and, according to a captured witch, was used to house the officials of the Borrower witches, as well as the vault that contained half of the island's treasures.
So it did not come as a surprise when Irwin found the lobby of the building to be garishly opulent with a small glimmering fountain to be found in the middle of the room.
He could even hear Olivette remark with a jealous voice. "They have escalators? We don't have that."
"Focus." He said as he picked up the sounds of voices overlapping each other.
The moment they ascended the escalator, a gaggle of witches came upon their sight. To Irwin's surprise, they were merely milling around the room with worry and disgust on their faces. Some were even carrying out rituals on the tiled floor, while others, a few older witches, were dutifully guarding their surroundings.
There was only one door on the second floor and it might lead to the other rooms and other witches, but, as of right now, there were thirteen witches between their position and the door.
Irwin contemplated for a moment as he sat on the still escalator scales alongside an increasingly vigilant Olivette. He entertained the idea of slinging spells against other spellcasters, but removed because of his rather bleak repertoire of spells.
"Guess we're doing it the old fashion way." Irwin chuckled as he stood from his seat, earning Olivette's worried attention.
"Uh, what–where are you going?" She asked.
"Just cover me, alright?" He replied, cracking his neck as he went over the escalator and walked closer to the witches.
Thanks to his invisibility, the guards did not notice his approach until he was a few feet ahead of them. His body smelt of blood and residual magik which alerted the witches of an incoming attack, but did not know from where.
Irwin merely glided past the guards, finding himself in the thick of the thirteen witches, as they darted around the area with upturned eyes and raised defenses. He sucked in his breath, readying himself to move in a moment's notice before unleashing the full extent of his magical energy.
"Kneel."
He felt the skill sap the energy within his body, but the rest toiled to keep up the natural flow of magik around his various bodily systems. An invisible wave erupted out of his form and forced the witches into a battle of wills, a predictable battle as Irwin's physique trumped the witches' errant will.
Thirteen witches ducked their knees, cracking their bones upon the tiled floor as drools dripped from their slack-jawed mouths. Irwin's skill did more than order them a command, as it also disrupted the magical power swirling within each spellcaster and prevented them access to their magik for a brief moment.
Irwin took no time to take on the role of an executioner, swinging his silver blade once to decapitate a witch. His every slash was precise, full of force and straight in orientation, as if he was practicing an art form born out of blood and death.
The skill no longer affected the living witches, but the sheer terror inflicted upon them by the massacre in front of them caused them to seize up and disregard any thoughts of fleeing.
To Irwin, they were merely chicks waiting for slaughter, which he dutifully doled out in a matter of seconds. Mercy was not on his mind, nor would it ever be until Dagon gets what she was rightfully due.
By the end of the massacre, Irwin was soaked in blood, dripping from his clothes and shiny armor, yet he did not care as he disintegrated the witches' corpses.
Olivette stood ways away, a barely hidden smile on her face. The invisibility spell was no longer on them, so Irwin's bloody visage was bear to her upturned eyes.
"Quite a spectacle…" She hummed in amusement, stepping over a puddle of blood and neared Irwin with a slithering gaze.
The man, however, was on a mission, caring not for his companion's eyes and finished his meal before walking towards the only door. His footsteps rang loudly as he kicked open the door, having liked the taste of murdering defenseless witches.
Noticing Olivette was merely standing in the room in contemplation, he snorted in exasperation and asked, "Are you coming or not?"
Olivette smiled. "Oh, I am."