The Sauce of Legend
Beloved Knight
Illiad believed in the power of the Nothing. He prayed to no gods, he followed no creed or moral sanction, and he idolized no avatar or deity. He was beyond the laws of a world controlled by men and beasts alike. He was from another plane of existence, a lower dimension where such lines were never crossed because they didn't need to exist. Good and evil could not be distinguished. Light and darkness? They fell into each other's hands, and chaos reigned in the world beyond worlds where no Gods held a foothold because they had been either enslaved by the many or slain outright. And so, Illiad broke the vessel of his world and rippled from his mother-dimension's womb into the greater unknown, an ambassador of Chaos who would bring nullification to a universe unfitting of such a blessing.
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Illiad rose up a spirit of old, a full immaterial presence ripping to life before his shuddering gauntlet that laid held out like a clutched talon. "Rise. Rise so that I may slayeth you to sharpen my wits yet again.." And lo', a dread spirit burned a rune in the open desert plane, deep trenches blurring to life in intricate circles until they linked inside an 8 sided cross, the mark of chaos completed in all of it's random glory so fully a break in reality blurred the lines of time and space itself, a creature of horrific origin spawning like blood from a wound in fat, heavy spews from the mar Illiad had caused upon this dimension. Like mercury upon a level surface the crystalline droplets merged and screamed into one another, faces like glints upon light cast asphalt crashing and eating into eachother's bones until the twisted mass gained life, heaving and vomiting as steam poured off of its hulking form. Shackling away the rotted shell that it had birthed from the muscular beast snuffed away the clout of steam, revealing it's impressive figure to the world surrounding.
"Caldoon. Come...Meet your maker once more." Illiad roared, rising up his immense scimitar to the newly risen sky, teeth bared like a rabid wolf under the open cut of his helm.
The being known as Caldoon was a real daemon. Not a half one, not a hybrid mutt who's father was cast to love a human born maiden, impregnate a poor mortal with an evil seed and all that malarky. None of that fairy tale bullshit pertained to the being known as Caldoon, for he was true verse borne, true heir of the black blood and the Skella blade. He had no human relatives, no feral link to royal demon lineage, no call to fight for honor, vengeance, or even for the name of his kin.
Caldoon killed for only one reason, and that was to please the one who slayed his name, that being Illiad, Emissary of Chaos.
He stood at over seven feet in height, face long as a horse yet snouted like that of a shark, a common likeness of his kind, dwellers of the deep and beyond. Two sets of marble sized eyes laid to the sides of his elongated skull, void of color or iris. Directly above his smooth brow were vertical horns each three feet in length, arched back like the bend of a long-bow, poised and sharpened to a keen killing edge. His skin was claret as fresh plucked rubies, a dense hue to his bold texture. His entire form was patched in hard, reflective scales like that of some grand dinosaur from another era. His arms were far longer than any mortal creatures should've been, stretching well past his knees to the point where he could scrape his blackened nails against the crystal sands, bend to break off upon all fours if need be even. His legs were inverted, bent like a canines and pronged with tipped juts along the backs of his ankles like bramble thorns. A kick from this particular monster would leave a man gutted or worse, his feet tipped each with three ferociously jagged claws.
A tail of segmented plating ending in a scorpion like stinger swept behind him like a master broom, constantly ripping back and forth along the now indented sands. It was the length of a man and more, a massive muscular limb that moved as if it was of it's own mind, capable of killing a man before he could even draw his blade...
He was dressed with only a chain-mail kilt banded by steel latches to his thick waist. Across his back lay the Skella blade, a ludicrously enormous weapon of demonic origin and birth. It's handle was gifted a jeweled pommel, an onyx stone flayed in cryptic rune that held no sense or reasonable pattern. It was daemon crafted, and so it's meaning would be lost to any mortal gaze. Lips of a most savage black parted to reveal rows of dagger-like teeth, a forked tongue snaking out to taste the air, feel the heat of man kin and womankind upon his palette.
"It was foolish of you to summon me, yet again, Illiad..." His voice a boom of thunder and grinding stones, ethereal fire leaping from his flared nostrils. He unsheathed his eight foot b*****d sword as he spoke, the two warriors of near equal height circling one another in opposing stances. "If I slay you this time, there will be no end to my reign over this realm!" He cackled, slicing his speaking sword horizontally. It roared a psycho-kinetic word of power, and Illiad bashed it's foul projectile in half, gutturally roaring once more. "Then have at thee fiend! For your tricks are many but your skill is lacking!" At that, Caldoon joined in his roar, the two exploding into one another, their swords bursting over in wavering energies as they clashed noisily together.
"I will pick my teeth, with your bones." The daemon snapped it's rows of serrated chompers right in Illiad's face, and in response the Chaos warrior snapped his helm forward, headbutting Caldoon viciously upon his sharpened nose.
Caldoon did not budge, only cackled and returned the favor doubly so.
The battle...Had commenced.
Illiad's nose cracked down the middle, his lips twisting into a vicious scowl. Sliding his face plate down with a sharp nod he parried off of Caldoon's dual sided blade, rushing his shield against it's bulk with heavy steps forward. Caldoon's tail snaked from under, and Illiad barely dodged it's sneaking uppercut to his chin with a deft side step to the right, his foot falling heavy upon the wriggling stinger's center mass. It thrashed about like a caught out serpent, psychic energy rippling over the Skella as it gathered power into it's shuddering pommel. The two blades as if magnetized of the same polarity whipped away from one another, the force of the energy released between them slinging both combatants weapons to the sands below although they both maintained one handed grips upon their trusty handles, Illiad bashing his shield forward enough to pivot Caldoon nearly to the dirt, his foot ever present upon the daemon's tail. He raised his scimitar for a death blow, yet the Skella met it once more as Illiad's falling slash aimed to decimate the wily beast. Redoubling his grip into a two handed power stance Caldoon shed his tail suddenly and with enough pressure to leave Illiad off balance momentarily, the shift of weight so sudden the chaos warrior nearly fell forward say for a graceful stumble backwards. A wicked kick from Caldoon's backwards jointed talon bashed into Illiad, and the Chaos warrior was sent hurtling into a long dead tree where it snapped in twain like a shotgun's report, the hollow trunk crashing down upon the mighty warrior's felled form seconds later. Not a half moment passed before Illiad rose in an undeterred rage, blasting the tree's remains into bristling splinters with a single upward swipe from his nigh unbreakable scimitar, a splinter the size of a small dagger seen jutting out of his right eye socket in vivid and striking detail. He tore away the fractured wood unflinchingly, the moist gunk from his grunged out eye spurting over his ornamental armor like fresh oil upon polished sterling. Caldoon hadn't waited honorably however, and like the coward daemon he was he had dashed forward in an attempt to fell his adversary whilst he was down. Too quick for the daemon his shield caught the Skella from on high, his scimitar crashing from under to give the creature what-for in the gut. Impossibly flexible, Caldoon back arched and backwards rolled away, immediately raising his massive blade to catch the next blow from Illiad, the chaos warrior as equally daunting in his attempts to destroy this foulest of creatures.
"Only one eye left, Emissary." He mocked the warrior with a massive shark borne grin, his teeth shimmering like wet diamonds under the expanse of his endless gums. Slamming his horns forward Illiad clashed against them, dodging to the left to usher another blow that was met with another blade on blade stand off.
Caldoon riveted over in psychic energy that plumed liked undulating tendrils off of his ruby red hide, his muscular arms bulging with enigmatic power. The blades clashed again and again, none gaining purchase as their swords crashed so wickedly hard that the both of them were being dug into the heated sands at their heels due to one another's earth shattering blows. Caldoon snarled, trying to gain purchase to swing again and yet found his ankles ground into the soft sand up to his thorny haunches, Illiad ankle deep in sand as well before their two swords collided...
Both lost grips of their weapons, and the blades were flung off far and away in opposite directions of their wielders. The daemon and the manling looked off towards their respective tools of death, then to one another.
They banged heads, and a grappling match ensued, Caldoon driving his arms under Illiad's armpits to grasp him up into a spine shattering bear hug. Illiad grunted in obvious frustration, his exposed jaw clenched so tightly his corded muscles could be seen bugging out under his throat, his arms shaking violently as they smashed down and into Caldoon's own under-guard to maintain at least an over-under position with the beast. Smashing skull to helm once more the two sneered into eachother's faces, Caldoon's half-severed tail coiling up Illiad's inner thigh to grip his waist in a thickened vice grip. Driving up from the sands Illiad struggled and plowed Caldoon several feet back and up to his own taloned feet, the two suddenly breaking and coming back together, their hands clasped together in a full on display of brute strength.
They both struggled, neither one of them daring to give in to the strain of their screaming muscles. "Give up manling! You are weak!" Caldoon hissed, his own lips slipped back in a visible expression of intense strain. "You, always talked too much!" Illiad reversed his grips so that his palms faced upwards, twisting both of Caldoon's wrists until the beast's draconic knuckles touched the back of his upper forearms.
He was breaking Caldoon's wrists.
Caldoon's tail squeezed tighter, his bones busting open through his thick wrists as he wailed in agony at the chaos warrior's unstoppable strength, Illiad seemingly un-phased by the crushing vice grip around his relatively thin waist. "I am immune to pain. To pleasure. To YOU AND YOUR TRICKS!!!" And with that Illiad fully rotated Caldoon's wrists around and shattered them instantly, kicking away the felled opponent in a brutal stomping maneuver that sent the daemon sprawling in a sand flinging heap nearby. Caldoon moaned like a wounded animal, clutching at his snapped wrists between bated breaths before trying to rise to his shaking legs. He slowly snapped his wrists back into place though they were still ragged, useless for grip or for anything for the time being, his black eyes glistening over in fervent anger. He struggled to stand through the pain, but Illiad had come over by this point to stomp him back down, his armored boot raised over the daemon's chest in triumph.
"Be banished then, yet again! Weakling! Cur! Return when you have your strength renewed and I shall show you no mercy, YET AGAIN!!!" His gauntlet splayed open, and Caldoon screamed as he was ripped from reality into a spiraling vortex below, slipping back to the land of Chaos from whence he came to begin his training anew, his hate once more rekindled for his Caller of Names. The Skella also slipped from existence, joining it's wielder in the realm of it's origin once more.
Illiad stood seething, his armor now noticeably crushed around his waist, black blood spilling in light spurts from his gored out eye...
He began limping over towards his scimitar, his right leg notably mangled...
The Desert Outpost could be seen in the near distance, and once his scimitar was gathered, the odd warrior would begin a limping trek towards it's high walled gates, shield shackled up and onto his back, the scimitar's heavy angle dragging a wavy trench from behind where his arm could barely heft it now, only maintain a reasonable grip upon it's ornate handle.
