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The Gigolo - Loki the Trickster

It was Dark as the walked the streets of the Old Capital, navigating the maze of cobblestone and enemies as smoothly and deftly as was possible. Every so often a fiend would spot them, its screeching voice threatening to cry out in alarm, but no sooner had their mouths opened than they were sealed with ice, breath no longer escaping or inhaling into their bodies. Frozen and suffocating, they collapsed to the stone beneath their feet as soon-to-be corpses, and on the pair of shadowed figures continued through until they neared at last the first destination on their five-stop detour before they at last stood upon their goal. Handsome dark hair and piercing eyes stood alongside a violet-haired form, body strong and intimidating, as evidenced by the scattered trail of bodies which now lingered on behind them. No doubt the latter would have a much greatest distaste for the ruthless manner in which they were dispatched, but the manner of the former was all the young man needed to be reminded that this wasn't his mission, that he was here only because of a debt which he owed, and that when it was all over he would again part from his companion and be no more fond of him for the experience. That sort of thinking suited the former just perfectly, as there were few, if any, whom he held in such regard that he could say he truly cared for them. He was a bringer of mischief, many would say, but in reality, he viewed his ambitions as much, much more. And his devilish lips curled as they emerged before a large building and a wide open space in the road, the very fiber of his bones telling him this was where he needed to be in order to do this. Glancing over at his partner, his mirthful eyes danced as he motioned for the boy to step back and leave the open space to the trickster alone.

"This will be where the fun begins," his smooth voice seemed amused as he lifted a phone from his pocket and held it up to his ears, though in this place it was supposed to have no reception...he still managed to smirk and send a message with it, delivering it unto all those who were set to be a part of this most dangerous game.

The Gigolo - Loki the Trickster

Hanging up the phone at that, the well-dressed devil slipped it back into his pocket and turned his head towards the gate before the building, its silver hinges creaking as it slowly began to swing open; Lewis Keys felt a delicious curl in the corner of his lips as he looked through the darkness and saw the form that solemnly marched out to greet him. His dark armor, his legendary sword gleaming in his hand already as his stern eyes locked on the man in the violet suit that stared back at him...there was no mistaking the identity of this man. He was none other than the legendary swordsman, said to be invulnerable to any weapon which sought to pierce his flesh save in a single spot. He was the son of Sigmund, slayer of the dragon Fafnir, and now a spirit assigned to guard this place...the First of the Five Seals. Certainly no simple challenge for anybody to overcome, let alone at this early stage in this ritual...the Crows of the Yatagarasu certainly did not take any chances with this particular Ritual, did they? Lewis almost smirked as he stepped forward and looked the man in the eyes as they emerged from the shadows, his blond hair framing his fair face as he frowned, gazing upon his foe.

"Sigurd, the Dragonslayer. Should I be fearful or honored that you are the one to greet me?" his melodious voice crossed the air, playing as though he were intimidated already by his foe. Whipping his sword to the side, the enemy now known as Sigurd raised the tip of his blade and pointed it at his foe, not fooled in the least by the god's new skin.

'You do not fear anything, and that is your mistake, Trickster. I see through your false skin, as the Watcher has seen through your machinations. He would kill you, as foretold, if you were to face him,' the swordsman promised as he fell into an attacking stance, the fate of the Seal looking safe upon his shoulders, 'But he need not raise his blade this night, for with my legendary blade Balmung, I will be the one to strike you down!'

At this proclamation the smooth-looking man shrugged his shoulders, lips curling into a deep and devilish smile...his eyes suddenly shifting as his body began to change shape. It was the first time that his companion had seen his true nature, though he had probably guessed at it long ago...they were two of the same ilk now, and one could watch the other as he unveiled the sort of power that had made him an ally he could depend on. And deep in the throat of the trickster, an amused laugh began to rumble.

"I see there is no more need for deception then, is there? But I wonder...oh Hero of the Blade," his pointed teeth gleamed as he opened his mouth and produced his tongue...in his left hand he produced a long sword of his own which he promptly licked, on the sharp edge of the sword, his own black-crimson blood leaking out over the blade as his laughter rumbled more, "is your invulnerable skin up to the task of repelling me?"

'Come, let us find...OUT!'

Like twin streaks across the field they shot at one another...a resounding clash the sound which shook the whole of the Darkened portion of the Capital around them...

...

...The Ritual had begun...

The Gigolo - Loki the Trickster

It wasn't long before the Second Seal was released and the Darkened Capital again felt the familiar rumble of power slowly building at its center, waiting to be released; Loki released his demonic form and returned to that of the handsome Gigolo as he slowly waltzed across the now-frigid battlefield towards the fallen form of the Norse Goddess Sif, Thor's Wife. Unlike the last battle, there was nary a scratch or too many long beads of sweat running down the long, smooth skin of the Trickster's neck when he stopped and looked down at her where she lay upon the grass, skin frozen to a light blue and desperately groping at the ground as she tried to find air to breathe. His eyes were dancing with a strange mixture of satisfaction and something else, perhaps a hint of regret? Despite that, the satisfaction won out, and when the toe of his bright, black, leather shoes nudged her under the chin she fell onto her back without resistance, having fallen now completely under the willpower of the victor of their duel. Lips curling into a slight smirk, he looked down at the girl and then the devil's smile could be seen growing on his handsome lips. "Sif, Sif...beautiful, stupid Sif," he seemed to both mock a lament and taunt her at the same time, looking down straight into her failing eyes as if to ensure she knew just who had beaten her, "lesser a swordsman you than Sigurd, and inferior is your magic to Loki. How, exactly, did you expect to win?" He studied her expression, the tension in the upper portions of her cheeks...as though she were trying to force out a wry sort of smile at him. Proud to the end...

"I see...you never expected to defeat me. You only hoped to weaken me, yes? For the Third Guardian? Or perhaps..." the trickster mused, seeming to actually become slightly impressed by the foresight of his defeated opponent, "let none in the underworld say that Sif, Thor's Wife, is not without her wits, then. However..." his voice grew suddenly cold, as did his hand, and within it formed a long and sharp shard of ice like an icicle that was so cold a white mist seemed to rise from it like dry ice...looking down at the fallen goddess, she still fought against what his magic had done to her and tried to recover, tried to put up just a little bit more of a fight and stall him just a little bit longer. But her struggles were all for naught, as his ice had chilled her deep and disabled her down to the very bones. She only endured now by the grace which inhabited all of their ilk, the mighty Asgardians, but against another of her kind she could not hope that this alone would repel him. Nor would it...his smile became cruel suddenly, that wistful, regretful twinkle in his eye there just a moment longer before it froze over and was gone. This was the end of the duel between Loki the Trickster and Sif, the Warrior Woman of Asgard. And what a sad end it was...

"You should never set your wits against a Trickster...for we always possess...an ace in the hole," Loki finished his thought from before, and then with a final thrust he jammed the icicle down and brought an ending to Sif, daughter of Asgard and Wife of the Thunder God, Thor. His back turned then to her and as he began to walk back to his companion, the body again reduced to Magatsuhi and floated off into the sky, dissipating, and was gone...the crimson-tipped icicle that had pinned her the only remnant now of the ending of their duel.

Finished now with the second leg of their task, the devil in a man's skin moved back to the side of his demonic apprentice and brushed away a bit of dust from his shoulder before turning towards the next destination on their agenda. The Darkened Capital was vast but time seemed to stretch on longer than it should in this place, giving them plenty of time to traverse the distance and get to where they were going. Moving swiftly, there were few words said between them as the task was far from done; gloating would have been foolhardy, and any lessons that needed to be imparted or strategy to be employed had been done so a very long time ago. There was only execution now, and for his part, the Trickster seemed to be supremely confident in what he was doing...perhaps surprising given the increased difficulty each successive Seal was sure to offer. Nonetheless, this was a path that once you started down it, there was no turning back until you either succeeded or were turned aside by ill fortune or strength of arms. And it was about half-way through the city towards their third destination that the fortune indeed took a turn for the ill.

For there, standing before them before they even reached the appointed destination for the Third Seal, were the Third and Fourth Guardians together, waiting for them.

'Not another step further, Loki, Slayer of Kinsmen,' the first voice, a brave and proud man boomed across the way, in his single hand was clutched a weapon of great strength. And beside him stood a warrior women without equal, glaring across the way at him with a fury that would have sent lions cowering in fear. Her own voice rang out a moment later, 'We have come to avenge the fallen Sigurd and brave Sif. Her efforts have allowed us to meet you here, together. And together, we will ensure you take not one step further along your cursed path.'

The Gigolo - Loki the Trickster

Flicking the phone shut with a sharp 'clap', the Trickster hoped that the struggling group back in Inaba were keeping it together well enough; he knew that by now they were certainly suffering casualties, but if he were to do what he intended any sooner than this, it would have been a disaster. It was better this way...for him more than for anyone else, but who could you trust to care for your own interests if not your very own self? If they couldn't endure until he had completed his task, then they simply weren't meant for this sort of thing to begin with. There really wasn't anything he could do about it at this point, what with the die cast and the path already part-way tread. So it was that he smiled and cleansed his mind as he stood face-to-face with his two new foes and relished the way that they glared at him, knowing that in this god that they had once cast out and despised they had met a match for the both of them...evidence enough of that was in their coming together to face him. Proud gods though they had once been, they knew better than to walk into a match they were not likely to win on their own. It was a wise idea of theirs...and yet, were they still underestimating the machinations of the trickster?

"Well, well...if it isn't the War Goddess Lady Freyja...and the God of Combat, One-Handed Tyr...I suppose even you could not grow back what my son has already taken?" the suave gentleman teased smoothly, enjoying the sneer that curled the warrior's lips so much that he couldn't help but press on, "and for both of you to stain your honor to come down and face me directly? Now I know that I am...honored." He laughed under his breath and felt the ominous breath of the two warlords hot and heavy, their muscles already taut, weapons sharp, eyes keen as they glared across the way at him with no intention for splitting too many words with them. They were warriors, not linguists, and while Loki was as skilled with his devilish tongue as he was with any weapon (if not more so), they preferred to simply dispatch their enemies as fast as possible...particularly when one approached them so disrespectfully as this one. And disrespectful it was, the way that he held their eyes and smirked at their annoyance, though they could do nothing to wipe it from him just yet. But that moment would soon arrive...only seconds now. Their weapons itched, thirsted, loved to taste his blood. His low chuckle only aggravated them further. "Would that you had honored me this way back then..." his airy voice mused, distant for a moment as it was taunting...they knew well of the incident of what he spoke, the barbs that had been exchanged...the curses.

"Speak not of honor or courtesy, Trickster, for you have neither," the one-handed warrior god stepped forward and pointed his weapon at the enemy with a sneer, "you have sullied this place with your foul ritual and stolen away the lives of two of our most beloved. Even if you wished to flee now, we would not allow it. ...Our combined might is more even than you can manage!" Tyr did not seem haughty when he said this, but fierce and intimidating...he was confident but angry, anxious to get the fight started. Beside him Freyja was more composed, but only a little. She crouched and made ready to attack, equally anxious, and when she spoke her voice was more controlled but contained the sharp edge of fury, 'Fortune has turned her back on you, that you should meet us both here,' the war goddess glared, her blade glinting beneath the odd-colored sky, 'come now and face us!' She cried, but as an answer the Trickster only changed forms again and laughed beneath his breath, prompting outrage in both his foes...as standing before them had never before elicited such a sound from the throats of their enemies. Cries of fear or bravery, perhaps, but never laughter. It was foreign and infuriating to both. 'Why do you laugh, Trickster? Are you so mad that you would laugh at your own demise? Alone against the two of us, you have no chance of victory!'

"Oh, but I am not alone," his voice crossed the distance, his teeth sharp and pulled into an absolutely malevolent grin...this time he did not motion for his companion to back away, but instead to join him at his side. All this time he had stood back and conserved his strength, and this was the moment that they had been waiting for. Looking across the way with his intense, intelligent eyes, the Trickster knew that the moment had come to reveal but one of the many great schemes he had worked over the course of the last few months...what he had given rise to in his young apprentice. "I hope you don't mind, Mataki...but I think even I might find it hard to catch my breath against the twin gods of war," he chuckled under his breath as the violet-haired boy stepped up to his side with a look of distaste, but an intense power boiling inside of his body...invisible, but hidden beneath the surface...just the way he wanted it, "why don't you test out that little gift I gave you? I hope that once you've seen it, you'll forgive me for taking so long after the Carnivale` to deliver it..." Glancing out of the corner of his eyes, he saw a mildly unamused nod from the boy as he fell into his stance, ready to do what was asked of the man that he (very begrudgingly) owed so much to. And then, with his eyes turned back to the duo facing him...who did not know whether to be insulted or amused by the suggestion he had just made.

'You would ask a human to face us?!' they seemed to cry in indignant mockery, 'though it is plain to our eyes that you have somehow twisted him, he is still only human! He will be no more a match for us than the lowest beggar of our kingdom! It was folly that you brought him so far only to have him die...he does not seem quite so foul as you are!'

At this the Trickster's mysterious laughter only grew, and for the first time it rose from a hum to a much louder, almost uncharacteristically wild and excited laughter. Oh, how he was going to relish this!

"Not folly...dear friends!" the handsome trickster laughed, eyes flashing as the power around them grew, "but fortune! Though, don't take my word for it...come and discover for yourself what he can do!"

His challenged enraged the dual gods; his lips curled even wider as they took the bait.

...And the battle began in a flash when the two brandished their weapons and charged...
...

...The Ritual Continues...

The Gigolo - Loki the Trickster

Ever were those who dared to cross weapons with the Mighty Thor struck down by one of the greatest of all the Norse Pantheon, for the god of Thunder had no peer on the field of combat. Lightning leaped from the great hammerhead of Mjolnir at his call, and the heavens darkened and trembled whenever he set foot amidst a battle. So it was now as his brother Loki stood before him, already exhausted from his long struggle unto this point, but when Thor swung his weapon he did not know mercy. Bedraggled as he was, the Trickster would not be spared the full might of the Thunder God; he knew this even before he came before him and now stood with his teeth grit and his wide, thin wings spread to either side of him. Dribbles of blood fell from the corners of his lips as he bit down hard on the bottom...there was a distinct nervousness mixed with his confidence that was unusual for him, knowing the danger of the battle ahead. But this was the last step, the final Seal, turning back was a path that had been closed to him long ago, and even if he had he would never abandon his machination so very close to its end. Across the level field now he saw his brother raise his weapon into the sky and call down the thunder which crackled along his weapon and encircled his body. "No rest for the wicked, hm?" the Trickster seemed to laugh to himself wryly; there was no more time to waste...he saw Thor swing his hammer and leaped forward directly into the fire at the battle's outset!

Blue lightning crackled in a line from Mjolnir towards Loki, Thor's Brother, and it passed by the winged trickster swiftly but without striking home. Dashing swiftly to the left he avoided damage and weaved in between successive bolts. Each bolt bore the charge to fell any member of the Norse Pantheon, but Loki the trickster was sly and knew the patterns of his brother's attacks, though he could not match them in intensity. Closing in on his brother he twisted and shot his foot forward towards Thor, but his hammer's handle was faster, blocking his attack and swatting his attack aside as one might an insignificant insect. The hammerhead followed in a lateral swing, but the thin Loki ducked and avoided having his head cloven from his shoulders by mere inches. A follow-up strike downward saw the Trickster leap away high into the air and back, his teeth clenching together as he moved with smooth efficiency to avoid each attack. Raising his claws then, a Wind spell erupted from his left hand and an icy one from his right, icicle and wind burst crashing down from above towards the powerful Thor who suffered the attacks with no visible damage. He was hardier than Loki, after all, and even the tricks of his brother had never been enough for him to overcome that. Lightning struck down from the sky at his hovering brother now, but again the Trickster was faster, though he was making a visible effort to avoid each strike. His breathing was heavier as he weaved and beat his wings, though the heat was enough to warm his skin even as the lightning passed him by. From far below he could see his brother following him with his eyes, feel his confidence beneath that solemn helm, but he had known that it would be like this from the outset. Thor, for his part, could sense his own sibling's frustration; he was slower than usual and his magic did not have its usual bite, which meant that he was indeed just as drained now as he had looked when he arrived.

"What game do you play at, Loki?" he challenged as he drew back his hammer again, blocking away another couple of physical strikes from his younger brother before swinging again and missing as Loki leaped back away from him...he knew him too well to think that he had come this far expecting to win by sheer force of arms, particularly if he was exhausted from combat, which meant that he had some scheme up his sleeve no doubt...and it wouldn't do to let him work his plot however he liked, "whatever trick you have plotted, you've never defeated me man-to-man in all our long lives. Are you in need of a reminder of why this is?" His eyes flashed golden as the Trickster hovered in the sky above, and far higher, even, the skies began to darken and leaped from cloud-to-cloud with lightning and roared with thunder. In his hand, Mjolnir pulled itself towards the elements gathering overhead and the deep boom of thunder as Lightning crashed down onto the hammerhead was deafening. Where he lingered in the sky, a wry and self-effacing smile curled the corner of the Trickster's lips...he had known that this moment would come from the moment the battle began, but even in the deepest part of his brilliant mind he had not come up with a solution by which he could escape it. Descending swiftly to the Earth, landed and crossed his arms over his face and watched as the lightning overhead became so violent that it rumbled the Earth below. "I'm a little fuzzy on the history, actually," the Trickster quipped as his doom seemed to be lingering overhead, roaring like a lion down at him, "remind me...if you can." Bold words...they were the last he spoke before Thor obliged him, striking down with his hammer to the Earth and calling a rain of bolts that even Loki could not imagine with all his wits! Hot and intense they struck all around him, and though he guarded there was no stopping the damage that was about to be done. Thor's Guardian Hammer had stricken truly.

Like a fire lit inside of him, the lightning struck the Trickster Loki and set his very body aflame on the insides, or so it felt to him it was! His muscles tensed his teeth bit down so hard his gums nearly bled and his eyes rolled back so far that all you could see were the whites of his eyes. This was the power of Mighty Thor! And when it was over he felt as though he had been released from the grip of some great giant that was crushing him, twisting about his insides until he was released and the pressure was gone, the tension gone, and his body that had been seized by pain collapsed loose and ragged to his knees on the ground beneath his feet. His knees were cold against the floor and his breaths were deep and ragged...even amongst the mighty there was no enduring a bolt such as that without suffering pain unlike any you had ever felt. Blood and spit poured from his mouth as he bent over the grass and coughed, gagging for air that wouldn't come and fill his lungs. Slowly padding forward as the storm passed was Thor, Odin's son, and looming large, like some greater divine thing than before was the Thunder God as he stood before Loki now. He could feel the shadow over him, but it took him a moment to even remember that he was alive. His wits were slow to return, which was why Thor already stood over him by the time that he was able to slowly push himself up to a single knee...laughing beneath his breath as he forced his other leg beneath him. Somewhere in the back of Thor's throat there was a sound of displeasure at that...for even Thor did not like to be mocked, least of all by the likes of his younger brother. But as Loki rose and stood before him the laughter only intensified, even though he could not pause the boiling red and black blood that leaked from his lips. "Do you wish to feel the might of my hammer a second time, Loki?" the Thunder God asked as Loki stumbled once back and away, still panting and catching his breath as his right arm clutched his chest, "do not mock me, or Mighty Thor shall make your passing much less pleasant than it needs be." His eyes glowed yellow as if he were going to create a storm again, mostly just a threat to curb his brother's laughter, but instead it only grew...speckled with the occasional cough...until a wheeze brought it all to its end.

"Oh, I know you would...Mighty...Thor...but you are fool to think that Loki would pass on quietly," the Trickster laughed, lumbering forward once on unsteady legs, "do you still doubt me, brother? Am I no more in your mind than a conjurer? A fool? Oh, brother..." Another step. "How I pity the Mighty Thor for his...short-sightedness." Suddenly, like a cobra constricted he shot forth with his claws stretched out to strike, but it was the hammer of Thor, Great Mjolnir which hit instead, slamming the fail-looking devil off to the side and into a heap on the ground at his left. Landing and skidding, he gathered himself up at once and continued this again...and was thwarted again by Mjolnir. So began a series of physical exchanges with each more desperate than the last, most ending with a fell smiting for Loki, though some occasionally he did land but to little avail. A kick slipped through and landed upon the stomach of Thor, but the hammer sent him flailing again to the ground, and it was only when for what must have been the twentieth time or better he returned and attacked Thor with a weakening disposition that Thor at last cast his hammer-arm aside and simply crushed the Trickster's throat within his hand, holding him high aloft and prone to whatever death he might think to give him.

"Enough of this, Loki. I tire of your struggles," he spoke wearily, but only in mind and not so much in body, "your fruitless and foul quest ends here. I have beaten you! Say the words and I shall end your pai-?!" Suddenly, a surprise sensation jerked the body of Thor and he dropped the Trickster from his grasp who scuttled away to a fair distance, black and red blood dripping from the edge of something small and jagged gripped within his fingers. Thor recoiled and looked down at the arm which had gripped his brother, now covering a small and almost insignificant wound which had been dealt to his own stomach. He had been stabbed! Shallow it was and hardly fatal, but it had freed Loki from his grasp for a short while longer; there across the way he beheld his brother wielding the black and violet dagger, a small smirk coming over him as he watched his brother's wrath slowly build inside of his eyes. "Wretch! Snake! I will offer you no mercy, who strike in such a cowardly manner!" the Mighty Thor cried, raising his weapon into the sky and began to summon the storms once more. Barely able to keep his feet was Loki, but as the storm began to brew there was a sparkle in the eye of the demon that hadn't been there since he came upon his elder brother. "Yes, that's it..." he muttered under his breath as the dagger disappeared from his grip, yet as he fell into a defensive crouch once more it seemed as though this would be the hour in which Loki, Odin's younger son would fall.

'Farewell Loki!' Thor cried, and lightning and thunder emerged from Mjolnir in a torrent that split the heavens and the clouds above. Ripping across the battlefield were the bolts then, and as it struck the Trickster it was no doubt the end! ...But as the lightning struck, it did not course through the body nor did it smite the Trickster Loki...it drew itself into the center of his body and seemed unnaturally docile...swirling and manipulated in front of his body until it all gathered into a single point...a mirror-plated shield held fast before Loki! His eyes twinkled with mischief...the shield glowed bright blue and all at once lightning was dancing along it as though it were Mjolnir itself! Wide were the shielded eyes of Thor beneath his helm, and though blood dripped from them Loki's lips curled into a wide smile. 'What devilry is this?!' cried Thor, but his only answer was the continued laughter of his younger brother.

"Farewell...Mighty Thor."

And then just as before the lightning leaped and danced and it struck and burned; a deep voiced cried out in pain and a body collapsed to its knees from the intense pain. But it was not Loki who had fallen, not the Trickster whom lightning could burn and thunder could crush. It was Thor! Master of Lightning who had been stricken by his own spell! And the lightning in his own eyes was dimmed as Mjolnir seemed suddenly heavy inside of his grip. And then came the shadow of his brother, looming over him...but he could not find the strength to lift his head. That had been his strongest spell...his Guardian Hammer...with all its strength it had crashed upon his brother and somehow, it was now upon him. He heard the low hum of his brother's laughter, still mixed with coughs every so often and heavy breaths, but he could barely speak to voice his question. 'Never before...has thunder stricken Mighty Thor...against his command,' the god panted, 'how? What...trick have you wrought...which could drain me of my power? It is...inconceivable.' His answer was a shield crashing into the front of his helm and rolling him viciously onto his back, where he struggled back to his knees...just barely...only to find the shadow looming over him again. In his hand now he clutched the long blade from before which he had used to cut down Sigurd before...and now he held it aloft and at the neck of Thor, his older brother, for the first time in all the ages.

"Shall I tell you? Thor, you are my brother," the Trickster suddenly smiled, slowly shifting back into his beaten, human form as he looked down upon him, "you need not pass from this world just yet...come, stand and let me tell you how Loki, Odin's son, bested the Mighty Thor." His hand extended weakly, but openly towards his brother...and somewhere deep inside the heart of Thor a tiny flame flickered, as though his brother's grace, whatever it had been once, was returned to him. ...Only just as his golden eyes flickered the illusion of his brother was gone from before his eyes, vanishing like a cloud passing through the sky.

Then the true Loki swung his sword from behind him and cleaved head from shoulders, and thus fell Mighty Thor.

Throughout the capital, a great rumbling was heard then...the last of the seals had been broken and the center of the city seemed to glow with a surreal crimson light. Stumbling slowly away from the corpse of his fallen brother, Loki could not help the low laughter in his throat...but he could barely stand by the time he had reached his companion. Distaste and a hint of satisfaction were on his lips as he looked at the devil who had made him what he was (as far as he knew); he was satisfied that the job was nearly done, though he couldn't say that he didn't enjoy Lewis Keys enjoying a little bit of pain of his own. 'Are we done?' he asked impatiently, earning a wry smile from the pained Trickster.

"Soon," he smirked, coughing once as he rubbed the back of his hand across his stained lips and cleaned them, hissing as he realized that the blood was still hot, "the Chamber is waiting for us at the center of the city. Come with me now..." He turned once more towards his final destination and did not look back once at the great foe that he had conquered...instead only looking ahead to the next step. The final step. He had conquered Thor and now his great plan was almost at its end. He could feel it...

"And if it's not too much trouble..." he began again, a wry smile on his lips as he stumbled once, then brushed back a stray black hair from his eyes, "...a healing spell would be nice."

The Gigolo - Loki the Trickster

It took longer to reach the center of the Capital than any of their destinations thus far; they had taken some time to heal the Trickster of his wounds as best they could (though they hadn't been able to do much, since Mataki's magical power was still quite depleted from all his efforts against the War God and Goddess) and were now drawing within range of the concealed chamber, hidden carefully near the center of the city where few were ever able to reach under the light of the day. But in the Darkened Capital there were none to thwart them save those they had already beaten. In the distance he could see the shrine and knew where in the center from reading what he sought would be waiting on them. Overhead, the sky still bore a crimson light from the seal that had broken and the rumbling was only just beginning to subside. Time had passed...Five Seals had fallen...they had only to reach the chamber and descend into the Vault for the machination of Loki to be at its end. Nearly...there was just one more hurdle left to clear, unwritten in all of the stories and rituals required to open the path. It was simply one that he had known all too well...a Watcher, unmoving from his position for all the time that he had held that role. Now he waited in the front of the Confinement Chamber Shrine with his all-seeing eyes staring out into the dark of the night, watching the approach from afar of the devil that had bested Thor, Odin's Son, and Sif, Thor's Wife. He was the Trickster who had felled Sigurd the Dragonslayer, walking together with the human who had defeated Tyr the One-Handed and the War Goddess Freyja...they were like a black cloud overcome the Capital and now they had made their way to the most critical juncture until they stood eye-to-eye with the last barrier between Loki and his prize.

Here at the Gate of the Confinement Chamber stood black-skinned Heimdall, All-Seeing Guardian of the Bifrost Bridge and now, the Vault of the 777th Chamber. His sword was held carefully before him, his eyes now focused on his task not just as Watcher, but as Protector. And come before him now was his destined foe, the two who would slay one another unaided in the days of Ragnarok. Had that day come now, he wondered? But he would not fall to him here...not alone.

"Loki...I wish that I could say that I saw this day coming, ere I might have done something to prevent it. Your path, however, has always been blocked from my sight...a feat accomplished throughout time by no other than you. I predicted much, but never your arrival at this place. The Guardians who fell before you were noble and strong, much greater than a Trickster such as yourself. I do not embrace such a fate as has taken them from this place and left you in their wake. You are the lesser son of the greatest sire," his deep voice rang through the clearing and his sword glinted golden beneath the strange moon of the Darkened Capital, his white eyes ominous orbs amidst the dark of the night. And as Loki emerged from the shadows and heard his words he watched him without blinking, for his eyes never turned from his tasks so long as he lived, nor would they in this moment. This ultimate moment when the two of them would come face-to-face with one another...Loki chuckled beneath his breath but it still seemed strained, though it was only after a moment that the Guardian spoke again, sharp-edged voice finding no amusement in the game of his opponent. "Do not think you can deceive me with your illusions, Trickster. You approached from the West upon my left, not from the South where my eyes turn; not even you could deceive my eyes so near to them as this," he announced without even flinching, turning to face the true face of his enemy and his companion as they approached indeed from the West...the foes standing before him fading as Loki's illusion was released. Laughing a bit strained, the Gigolo could not help but smirk impishly and shrug his shoulders.

"Can't fault a man for trying, can you?" he smirked as he motioned for his ally to take a position along the edge of the field near the shrine and the Confinement Chamber, his mirthful eyes suddenly hardening as he strode forward and changed shape gain, his true form revealed and his gaze tinged with hatred as he looked upon the legendary watcher, "oh, that's right...both you and my father, you could find fault with even charity if it were given by the hand of Loki. And yet, even as you looked down upon me...here I am, come strolling through the mists the conqueror of Thor, vanquisher of the Goddess of War, slayer of he who slayed the dragon Fafnir Tell me, Heimdall..." He smirked as in his hand a pair of spells began to swirl and brew, gathering around his body as he allowed his great strength to begin to gather once more. Not again was he returned to his full strength, but he had enough now to fight in-earnest...and no quarter would be given by the likes of his foe. "...If you see everything, then surely you should have seen your own demise in this place. By my hand..." he smirked as his eyes changed again, great swirls all down to the center as he began to meld the two elements together to create something different, "...does it comfort you, Heimdall, to know the hour of your destruction? To know that by your death shall I achieve my victory?" His eyes were hard and challenging, more fierce than any had ever seen them...but the dark-skinned watcher was not intimidated as he drew his sword and held it before him, burning with a heavenly light and fire.

'All I have seen in anticipation of this hour is a Fool who thinks he can defy the very order of the Pantheon. To come as far as you have, I should both honor and revile you, but I can only find it in me to fill my heart with the latter. You are a blight, a curse. Even now I see the wake of your evil deeds, Loki...the terror that your children have wrought. You must know that with the gift you have given their enemies, they will not endure them...even great Fenrir, the White Wolf, may soon be at his end. Or...is it your intention that the humans should find victory?' the Watcher spoke condescendingly but not in a fashion of underestimation, earning a wry chuckle from the Trickster as he gathered up his strength. He could not imagine the fiend that would sacrifice blood, let alone that of his own children, for a simple diversionary tactic, but that appeared to be the path that Loki had chosen for his own sons and daughter. Yet ever still, the Trickster only smirked...knowing that his enemy had almost had his fill of it. "My brood are sturdier than you think," he warned with a small laugh, "I wouldn't trouble to worry about them, if I were you. And I would tell you wait and see how this all ends, only...you won't be around long enough to perceive."

He supposed it was unlike him to be the first to stop with words, but Heimdall was ready to strike and he wished to claim the first move! Raising his claws overhead, a lash of darkness and fire ripped across the distance between them and was thwarted by the magical sword of his enemy. Immediately he followed by discarding the sword and calling for a spell that was wide and deadly, with pillars of fire and darkness erupting from around the Watcher all in one great conflagration. "Phlegethon...the Pools of the Underworld!" he called out with a bright, toothy smirk, and even as they rose he saw his enemy caught in the midst of them...until golden armor burst forth and his sword swung in vein at the Trickster who flew into the sky to avoid it. High-speed was the exchange then, and Loki lashed and lashed again from above, before raising his hand high into the sky and summoning a microburst from the sky of wind and lightning that crushed at Heimdall on the ground and shocked his body, sending air and electricity dancing through him and along his sword...but even as the watcher endured the great spell, he could sense that his foe's magic power was already weakening, thus he drew upon his sword a sudden strike of fire and lightning, forcing his body to move amidst the prison of the Dance of Storms...and with a whip of his sword he sent forth another counter that literally knocked his foe out of the sky and back to the dirt of the Earth beneath him. "Hammerstroke of Hades," Heimdall muttered under his breath, before adding, 'A technique mastered by Mighty Thor, long ago. You are weakening, Trickster. I perceive with my all-seeing eyes your steps slowing, your magic waning...you have not the strength to conquer. And I have seen your tricks already...no magic shield nor dagger nor sword will deceive me.' Stalking forward, Loki drug himself back to his feet and wiped his mouth, knowing that what his foe was telling him was right...but even as the doom seemed near at hand once more, he had seen the shadow of death too often to despair. He smirked, and felt a mass rising inside of his throat.

"We shall see, Heimdall..." his voice was melodious, laughter dancing within...suddenly, it choked and a mass of gas, the Breath of the World Serpent erupted from within his own throat and cloaked the battlefield in noxious shade! Thick was the plume and amidst it his magic was struggling to form new spells...but the battle was still young, his enemy still fresh. 'Do you think your cloud can block my eyes like this?' Heimdall asked almost incredulously, though deep and threatening as ever he was, 'you forget your foe.' But indeed, Loki had not forgotten...and he knew that this was merely a diversion, a stalling tactic. He had only to last a little bit longer, nonetheless...for soon, the end would be upon them one way or another. Magic shot through the cloud but missed him suddenly, and then another one after that...a spell called Pralagilaoohohohoh tore across the sky and fell nearby, which burned and knocked the weapons from the claws of the Trickster. He felt the force of that attack in full, but he would not
give in...could not...and the response was a Hammerstroke of Hades that strike Heimdall but could not fell him. And on they continued, spells flinging back and forth at one another with reckless abandon, the two eternal foes and fated rivals drawing blood here and there, burning and marring the other amidst the thick violet-black smoke of the serpent's breath. Slowly the life was draining from Heimdall by the cloud, but they both knew that at the rate it drained life it would not be enough. Not by a long shot...Loki would succumb before and then, the entire match would be ended before any ambition had been met! He could not die here...would not! Only a little longer, just a little more...

'I will not stall and play your game, Trickster,' came Heimdall's voice finally, and even as he used his weapon again he struck under the jaw of Loki and sent him to the floor, the smoke surrounding them dissipating so that they were again in the clear. Suddenly, the fallen illusion faded and a second Loki attacked from the right, but Heimdall had seen it and sliced it down with his blade...though another attacked from the shadows behind him right after, it met a similar fate. And then at last Loki himself descended from above with a magical attack clutched deathly-tight inside of his hands, this one being the genuine Trickster...only he did not strike home as intended. He had been seen through, a blade passing under his chin just as he ducked back and avoided the blow...but again the blade point touched his throat as a threat...the Trickster having been pinned down, unable to deceive the eyes of the great Watcher! 'I told you that I could see through you,' he reiterated, and the blond-haired Loki nearly growled in response as he knew that he had been caught red-handed, 'In the name of Odin. I will right the wrongs of this night...'

There was a moment of silence...and then like paint thrown against a blank canvas, a splattering of wet and thick liquid against the floor. A sudden, unexpected end to the tale had come.

...And the sound of a golden sword clattering to the cobblestone walk echoed throughout the night of the Darkened Capital...

...

...The Ritual is Over...but the Battle Continues!...

The Gigolo - Loki the Trickster

If there was a front door, there was a back door. And if there was a door at all with locks set upon them, there was always a key which could be used to open said doors. Raidou was an arrogant, idiotic little girl if she truly thought that Loki was not aware of the many different ways that she might try to seal him inside of here; his rituals and painstaking preparations over years far longer than she or even her sires had seen to make this final pilgrimage hadn't been done purposelessly. Long had he looked forward to this day, and now with it come, some turn of wit or saving throw was never going to stop him from emerging from that Chamber having claimed what he had already said to be his own. Kohryuu could act a sentinel, but even his sharp eyes and the strength of his purpose were no match for the cunning of the Trickster God, he who had felled Thor, mighty as Kohryu in his own right, and the indomitable Watcher Heimdall, whom many held to be even mightier, mighty as Odin the All-Father himself. Even as he slunk off to do his work, Loki had already returned from whence he came, ascending coolly upon the elevator which moved at his command. In many ways, it was as though he had hijacked the very Chamber itself from the system of the Yatagarasu, using their own safeguards and rituals against them to bend it to his own purposes, the depth of his treachery only truly revealed when he finally emerged from the elevator at the end of its long ascent with his eyes still tinged with that frozen hint of blue and a smirk upon his lips. Even as Kohryu sought to keep him trapped within, he had slipped right through the nets...the door might have been closed but he, after all, was still the Master of Keys! Opened they were, and escaped back out he had, only to find that little girl preparing that something he knew she would from the moment that she had appeared fingering that silver little tube around her neck. Her saving throw...it was almost precious.

"Ah ah," his voice came across the way suddenly, interrupting their match, and his eyes looked different all of a sudden, as they had during his ritual, when he stepped before Mataki in a blue flash and protected his follower from the Darkness that would have descended upon him. His look was kindly and sly as he stood, eyes peering down at the little girl that had been closing in on his young apprentice. Loki had always found Alice to be one of the most delightful demons throughout the Darkened Realms...a Fiend whose very appearance was sweet and deceptive, with a power that was black and fell. In that way, he supposed she reminded him of himself...but now wasn't the time for flattery of himself or their enemies. "Alice dear," he smiled as he lowered his hand towards her head as though he was going to pat it, like a father would a daughter, "Go away." Suddenly, his fingers pressed together and then shot out in a lighthearted flick...but even as he struck the demon's forehead it suddenly began to encase itself in a thick and immovable ice that bit and froze but did not particularly seem to damage her. Instead, it was as though it were preserving her, making her a statue of frozen, blue beauty. And with that, he shoved the demon to the side where it fell and lay on the ground and returned his eyes to the summoner. He could hear her chanting her little chant, calling forth the fell demons that she intended to have stop him. He laughed under his breath as a blue flash suddenly stole him away from her sight once more, and behind the thin girl he stood with a frost-blue hand upon her shoulder.

"Didn't I tell you? You're too late," he whispered like a honey potion in her ear, and even as she uttered the words to call forth the Riders the ritual was ended too soon...his ice was already wrapping around her throat and choking her voice, blue fingers circling themselves around her arms and holding them fast to her side...until all her body slowly became as Alice's! Ice covered her, hair, legs, arms, even her silver tubes were crusted over in an ice that would not move...only one remained free as the ice continued to creep. He tapped the tube upon her chest as though a reminder that he knew what she was thinking, just as the ice froze her over entirely and left her as a sculpture monument to the willpower of the Kuzunoha. Truly, coming this far as weary as she was, attempting to perform the ritual she intended, she was a summoner who was far greater than he liked to admit...but he had a taste for souring the reputation of a Raidou and she did things sometimes that made her such an easy target. Alas, he could not begrudge her this. "Our time to face one another is not yet come," he spoke into the frozen ear again, knowing that inside of it she would hear him just fine, "nor is it your time to face him. You will see...there is a greater end in store for both of you." Bowing slightly as he stepped back then and with a smirk, he watched as Raidou became as statuesque as her small summon, then he turned with a flourish at long-last to his follower and twirling another gold card inside of his hands, he tossed it carelessly over towards his violet-haired ally so that he could catch it at his leisure. "It's done. The Casket of Ancient Winters is mine, as are a few other choice treasures," he told Mataki with a smile, motioning for him to join him as he turned and began to walk freely from the chamber...paying little heed to the summoner behind him and her Popsicle summon Alice, nor of Kohryu whom he had slipped past with a fair ease. And as he laughed a little, passing through the doors of the Shrine, he shared a sly and fairly amused look with his bitter young companion.

"As promised, now we go to Inaba...and I will give what I can afford to the citizens who protect it," he promised with a smirk, a twinkle in his violet eyes and that icy blue tint here and there, "Honestly, you hurt my feelings when you distrust me so openly. I am an honest devil in my dealings with friends. Have I ever lied to you?"

He smirked and let the question linger. Lying? No, that wasn't really his style at all. Selling in half-truths, maybe, and always working for an ulterior motive perhaps...but he had a reputation to keep, didn't he?

Loki laughed to himself, a melodious and surprisingly merry sound, and his eyes glowed blue for just a moment as he placed his hand upon the shoulder of his companion...then with a flash, they were off and on their way, out of the Darkened Capital and en route to Mataki's home. The besieged and frozen Inaba.