{{Heh, I forgot to add Heatran's ability to my last post. =x That's done now. I left in too big of a hurry to catch that yesterday.
My workplace scheduled me to work on Christmas day. D= *shakes fist* I think everyone there's about ready to create a riot anyway. Morale's so low right now, and they think doing more stuff to make us angry will help? XD}}
Blade-Valsindar sneered at the attacks heading his way, his eyes glinted as he caught sight of the blade fragment that made its appearance, his suspicions confirmed at last.
The blade tried its best to fend off the attacks, forcing Valsindar's grip as tight as it could go, blood trickling between his fingers as the triple assault on the opposing side of the blade fought to free it from his weilder's grasp. The blade was furious, enraged, it went into a blind fury. NO ONE it didn't want even touching it ever dared to do so (unless it was on the receiving end of a stab, but that was another story...).
"How dare you!" Valsindar's lips demanded, although it was still the blade talking. Valsindar whirled, eyes flashing dangerously with an icy rage.
Spinning with a backhand, the blade evoked one of its properties, sending Groudon's control of the stone to shield himself from most of Kaya's punches, although a few still landed. Not that the blade had any care for the physical body that wasn't its own, it just didn't want to risk being knocked from Valsindar's grip.
There wasn't much you could do without a wielder as far as stabbing when you were simply a sword.
The ghosts' attacks, however, proved to be another thing altogether to avoid, however, as their incorporeal fists were capable of simply passing through the stone that shielded him from physical attacks.
As the control over the stone crumbled, the blade growled, shielding Valsindar the best it could, but of course there was no way for even the enchanted blade to keep up with attacks on three sides.
Valsindar did not cry out, as his lips were controlled by one who didn't feel pain. In fact, the general did not show any outward signs that he had been injured, although a dark chill crept through his bones, and several bruises and gashes joined the burns already present. It didn't take the blade too long to figure out that even the near impossible strength of the human wielding it was waning.
***
Sylam struggled for breath, a burning seeping through where the blade had run him through. He fought for a moment with defiant lungs, trying to speak, but nothing came other than a shuddering gasp. No, this couldn't be it! He wouldn't let it!
A warmth spread through him suddenly, as he took a shaky breath, the clearest he had managed thus far, as he managed to glance up in confusion.
Brayden's Gardevoir stood a few feet away, golden light emanating from her. As the Wish took hold, sending a slight surge of strength through him, he smiled his thanks, fearing his voice would give way again, he rushed out the next sentence.
"...The orb! In the center of the hilt. Mew's power," he murmured to Nona, hoping it wasn't too quiet for her to catch in the rage of the battle going on about them.
"That's the tie that holds its power together. If you attack that.... most likely with a dark/ghost attack, that will help," he managed, before his voice gave out again.
***
The Skarmory was DEFINITELY not pleased at having Brayden on his back. The bird flailed wildly, diamond-edged wings flaring as he tried in vain to dislodge the trainer perched precariously on his back. Neither could he get the strength to take off from the temple roof, with the earlier Fire Spin, and the still-lingering fogginess from Gin'iro's Confuse Ray, the Skarmory was in no position to escape the flames.
First the Ember hit, as the giant bird screamed out his displeasure to the world, he flailed even more wildly, as the flames heated its body to an almost unbearable temperature.
Then the Fire Blast from Gin'iro. Blinding pain shot through Tarath, unable to think straight as the fiery energy whirled around him with abandon. The Skarmory struggled for another brief moment to remain conscious, after all, Valsindar was in trouble! But it was no use, with one last weak cry of defiance, Tarath collapsed on the temple rooftop, unable to fight anymore.
***
The blade focused Valsindar's gaze on the fallen Skarmory for a brief moment, before dismissing it. It was nothing more than an acknowledgment that no more assistance would be coming from the creature.
Valsindar, on the other hand, had other feelings racing through him at the moment. With the previous attacks, the pain that the blade shook off coursed through him, but he endured it, even though at the moment, all he wanted to do was collapse and give in to the fatigue that plagued him with every labored breath.
But it wasn't his own mind controlling his muscles, and it wasn't his own control that forced his body forward, despite its many injuries. His hands were rubbed raw and bleeding from the blade's forceful grip, his every muscle screaming at him to stop, Valsindar fought through it, taking little solace in the blade's constant whisperings in his mind that they would come out victorious.
After all, even Valsindar could see that he was loosing this fight, even the blade saw it (although oh MAN did it not want to admit it). But then he heard Tarath's pained cry of defeat, saw the Skarmory stumble, and fall to the temple rooftop, sending tiles flying, the hapless boy with the Vulpix ears still astride his companion.
His friend.
'Taraaath!' Valsindar screamed. But it was not heard by anyone other than the sword itself, who merely chided the general.
'It served its purpose, but it seems it is no longer useful,' the sword, who never would feel the feelings of loyalty or friendship admonished.
"Nooooooo!" Came the cry, as it tore through Valsindar's own lips, unlike his other cries for the sword to stop. The sword paused, startled that someone had taken over his complete control of the mortal, and in that moment, Valsindar took over, for a brief moment.
Pain, that was all that flooded through for a moment, as Valsindar blinked, crimson eyes slamming shut as the world seemed to spin on its axis under his feet. He recognized a few more punches landing but zoned them out, falling to his knees, struggling with his own hand.
The one still tightly gripped to the sword's hilt, blood still seeping through the fingers as the blade still fought, even now, to control him. As it had fought to do so ever since the general had happened across the first piece of the cursed blade, purely by accident.
{{._. That ended up a bit longer than I intended, sorry!}}
My workplace scheduled me to work on Christmas day. D= *shakes fist* I think everyone there's about ready to create a riot anyway. Morale's so low right now, and they think doing more stuff to make us angry will help? XD}}
Blade-Valsindar sneered at the attacks heading his way, his eyes glinted as he caught sight of the blade fragment that made its appearance, his suspicions confirmed at last.
The blade tried its best to fend off the attacks, forcing Valsindar's grip as tight as it could go, blood trickling between his fingers as the triple assault on the opposing side of the blade fought to free it from his weilder's grasp. The blade was furious, enraged, it went into a blind fury. NO ONE it didn't want even touching it ever dared to do so (unless it was on the receiving end of a stab, but that was another story...).
"How dare you!" Valsindar's lips demanded, although it was still the blade talking. Valsindar whirled, eyes flashing dangerously with an icy rage.
Spinning with a backhand, the blade evoked one of its properties, sending Groudon's control of the stone to shield himself from most of Kaya's punches, although a few still landed. Not that the blade had any care for the physical body that wasn't its own, it just didn't want to risk being knocked from Valsindar's grip.
There wasn't much you could do without a wielder as far as stabbing when you were simply a sword.
The ghosts' attacks, however, proved to be another thing altogether to avoid, however, as their incorporeal fists were capable of simply passing through the stone that shielded him from physical attacks.
As the control over the stone crumbled, the blade growled, shielding Valsindar the best it could, but of course there was no way for even the enchanted blade to keep up with attacks on three sides.
Valsindar did not cry out, as his lips were controlled by one who didn't feel pain. In fact, the general did not show any outward signs that he had been injured, although a dark chill crept through his bones, and several bruises and gashes joined the burns already present. It didn't take the blade too long to figure out that even the near impossible strength of the human wielding it was waning.
***
Sylam struggled for breath, a burning seeping through where the blade had run him through. He fought for a moment with defiant lungs, trying to speak, but nothing came other than a shuddering gasp. No, this couldn't be it! He wouldn't let it!
A warmth spread through him suddenly, as he took a shaky breath, the clearest he had managed thus far, as he managed to glance up in confusion.
Brayden's Gardevoir stood a few feet away, golden light emanating from her. As the Wish took hold, sending a slight surge of strength through him, he smiled his thanks, fearing his voice would give way again, he rushed out the next sentence.
"...The orb! In the center of the hilt. Mew's power," he murmured to Nona, hoping it wasn't too quiet for her to catch in the rage of the battle going on about them.
"That's the tie that holds its power together. If you attack that.... most likely with a dark/ghost attack, that will help," he managed, before his voice gave out again.
***
The Skarmory was DEFINITELY not pleased at having Brayden on his back. The bird flailed wildly, diamond-edged wings flaring as he tried in vain to dislodge the trainer perched precariously on his back. Neither could he get the strength to take off from the temple roof, with the earlier Fire Spin, and the still-lingering fogginess from Gin'iro's Confuse Ray, the Skarmory was in no position to escape the flames.
First the Ember hit, as the giant bird screamed out his displeasure to the world, he flailed even more wildly, as the flames heated its body to an almost unbearable temperature.
Then the Fire Blast from Gin'iro. Blinding pain shot through Tarath, unable to think straight as the fiery energy whirled around him with abandon. The Skarmory struggled for another brief moment to remain conscious, after all, Valsindar was in trouble! But it was no use, with one last weak cry of defiance, Tarath collapsed on the temple rooftop, unable to fight anymore.
***
The blade focused Valsindar's gaze on the fallen Skarmory for a brief moment, before dismissing it. It was nothing more than an acknowledgment that no more assistance would be coming from the creature.
Valsindar, on the other hand, had other feelings racing through him at the moment. With the previous attacks, the pain that the blade shook off coursed through him, but he endured it, even though at the moment, all he wanted to do was collapse and give in to the fatigue that plagued him with every labored breath.
But it wasn't his own mind controlling his muscles, and it wasn't his own control that forced his body forward, despite its many injuries. His hands were rubbed raw and bleeding from the blade's forceful grip, his every muscle screaming at him to stop, Valsindar fought through it, taking little solace in the blade's constant whisperings in his mind that they would come out victorious.
After all, even Valsindar could see that he was loosing this fight, even the blade saw it (although oh MAN did it not want to admit it). But then he heard Tarath's pained cry of defeat, saw the Skarmory stumble, and fall to the temple rooftop, sending tiles flying, the hapless boy with the Vulpix ears still astride his companion.
His friend.
'Taraaath!' Valsindar screamed. But it was not heard by anyone other than the sword itself, who merely chided the general.
'It served its purpose, but it seems it is no longer useful,' the sword, who never would feel the feelings of loyalty or friendship admonished.
"Nooooooo!" Came the cry, as it tore through Valsindar's own lips, unlike his other cries for the sword to stop. The sword paused, startled that someone had taken over his complete control of the mortal, and in that moment, Valsindar took over, for a brief moment.
Pain, that was all that flooded through for a moment, as Valsindar blinked, crimson eyes slamming shut as the world seemed to spin on its axis under his feet. He recognized a few more punches landing but zoned them out, falling to his knees, struggling with his own hand.
The one still tightly gripped to the sword's hilt, blood still seeping through the fingers as the blade still fought, even now, to control him. As it had fought to do so ever since the general had happened across the first piece of the cursed blade, purely by accident.
{{._. That ended up a bit longer than I intended, sorry!}}
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