The dryness inside of his mouth had little to do with thirst, and a lot to do with the fact that he didn't know where he was, or who most of these other people were. But then again, he had one name. Dara... He didn't know what it meant, but it was pretty.
His tail flicked a bit, and he gave a soft smile.

"Andarel." he murmured. His throat still hurt, and would likely continue to hurt.

What she said about being sick from the water? He was inclined to agree. Now that his body was starting to register the whole 'being alive' thing again, he felt an ache in his upper abdomen that had nothing to do with hunger - which he also was starting to feel. He had that feeling in his body that told to a massive fever - shivering and sweating simultaneously. Although he was used to the feeling, he was not used to this particular cause. Then again, there wasn't a whole lot of tainted water in Hell - what little there was, was boiled by the heat. One had to cool it down before it was drunk. Maybe hunger was a factor too.

"I'm not going to leave." he said quietly. "I don't think I could anyway. Walk, I mean."

Feenai's face flushed as Dante picked her up. "It's, umm, I mean..." she stumbled over her words, "we should find Dara. Someone else is with her and I'm worried." Mentally, she spoke inside Dante's mind. These people are all too sedate for me to feel comfortable around.

Feenai gave Dante verbal commands to get him pointed in the general direction, then tried her best to rest as he carried her.

Her eyes slowly looked at Na'lsa, she could feel his breath on her throat, his smell wafting to her nose, and she closed her eyes for a moment. In a fraction of a second they slammed into the wall of the house near them and her head lowered to his neck, her tongue sliding across his skin, she found him as equally appetizing as he did her. Her wings flexed and she smiled a bit before they faded into nothing.

"You can have a taste...if you share." She whispered to him, the glow in her eyes fading.

As much as it sickened Michael, he realized that she was a flesh-eating mongrol as well, one that was not too unlike Na'lsa. 'Perhaps they all are the same,' he thought, behind the walls in his mind. He also realized something, however, that was not a part of his original train of thought. The Nephilim could break through the mental cavaties in his walls and blocks. As powerful as the human race could be, they never stood too much of a chance to might of a Nephilim and thus could never study it, or its corpse, and although he could not take the whole body, the being was willing to share, so perhaps..."I will need his brain," he said aloud, almost accidentally. Did he have much a chance and thus any difference in a battle between these forces? Probably not, but there was always a chance with words and a handy trick or two up one's sleeves, and besides, what's the worst that could happen?

Feeling the crushing weight of the distant presence, Shealtiel struggles to control his breathing. The more he studies it from afar, the more its... stain on the fabric of this world seeps into him, enervating, weakening his already strained constitution.

Knuckles white on his cane, hunched, nearly doubled over, he speaks to the group in a raspy croak, his arm trembling trying to hold himself upright.

"I..." he is grudging to ask for help even now. "I require healing, before we go on. Whatever awaits, it is of Sheol. I do not know... don't know if I'm close to strong enough to make a difference, but as I am, I'm useless to you all. Does anyone have any Water left?"

He shudders at the thought of consuming the distilled Thuergy, knowing the pain it will cause his Sheol-blotted soul. Still, needs must.

Na'lsa breathed heavily through his nose, feral desires taking over.

"I am not a gentle soul."

With that he plowed his head downward, hungry maw opening wide as teeth sank down on to her arm. With a sickening crunch he found bone and sinew. Sweet, sweet blood poured angrily into his mouth, accompanied by spatterings of skin tissue. He drank of her. He drank of her in a very enthusiastic manner. And as he drank, he...changed.

In a moment that felt like he had to tear his will away from his very skeleton, Na'lsa willed himself to stop. Releasing her mangled arm, he pushed her gently away. The blood that drained down his throat set his insides afire, yet he felt...calm. Cool. As pure and tranquil as a virgin spring. As...

As corrupted as a spring spoiled by invaders. Corpses soiling the pure water. Necrosis a stain on the healing pool. A thousand rocks thrown into the watery pit, the small ripples merging in to an angry roil. Why had this been done? Where was the tranquility? With eyes shut tight he reared his head back, screaming something to the heavens. Her blood mixed with his own as it was merely absorbed instead of digested, the two seeming to almost war. Bones from his back raised up, piercing skin. They arched back, beginning to spread outward inch by inch. With a great heave, they protruded just a bit further, then heaved their way back inside him. With a gasp he lurched forward, stumbling to maintain his balance.

"By the pit, what..."

There was nothing. He was calm again. Content. He was...satiated. There was no pain. There was nothing to even show what he felt had even happened. Like a board laid over a hole, his hunger was temporarily dealt with. Anything more might threaten the life of his donor. With a pained look he stared at her arm, showing...sympathy, compassion even. The look was odd, as if he had never moved the muscles needed for it in that order before.

"I am sorry. A being such as yourself should not be violated by my...hunger pains."

She didn't even wince, she felt the pain bit it didn't completely register as pain. She may even have moaned for but a moment before he let go of her arm, her blood dripping to the ground. She giggled softly then started to laugh.

"I think you will find that your hunger pains neither bother me or is something I consider a violation. After all I did invite you for a bite." She then lifted her arm to her chest. "Just watch..." she said and smiled a little, muscle started twisting itself back together and connecting to her bone before skin slowly grew over the once gruesome wound.

"If you had taken the whole arm, that would of been a little harder, but..., a small bite is neither a bother or a problem for me." She looked upon herself and made an annoyed sound before snapping her fingers and the blood drained out of her clothes leaving not even a mark, it was no wonder she stayed so pristine and clean.

Dara looked quizzically at Andarel for a moment, wondering just what made him say such an odd thing. She hadn't asked whether or not he was going to stay around or leave. She was more concerned at the moment with making sure he wasn't going to die from the poison or whatever broken bones he had.

She realized though, that while she hadnt' asked any such thing of the boy, she was wondering about it. She was wondering about a lot right now actually, the tail, the horn she noticed when working to revive him, the cloven hooves.

How did one fix a broken hoof anyway?

She looked up at a comotion to see Dante and Feenai walking away from the group. They both looked somewhat unsteady at the moment, and though it looked like Dante was helping Fee along, it looked as though Fee was making at least some effort to keep him walking in a straight line as well.

What happened?

A hellish scream drowned her own thoughts out. Re-orienting herself she guessed that it likely came from Lev. Given some of the possessed man's actions of late, she wasn't about to ask what it was. She braced herself for a holy tirade that, curiously, didn't come.

Na'lsa gazed upon the creature that was Asasiah in what could only be described as...admiration. His eyes were that of a hungry predator who had found a large carcass both fresh and untouched. With a quiver to his voice, he addressed her.

"An endless bounty of raw meat and power is...a dangerous thing, to present one of the Gluttonous. But a welcome thing...to...to..."

He trailed off, admiring her skin once again and how easily it was plucked, like strawberries in a garden. How welcomed it had been. How it had not resulted in death or pain or dismemberment. He could quickly see how he might be consumed with the act of constantly devouring her very being. After a moment he shook his head, putting himself back on task.

"You are very easily an addiction. I agree to your terms. The body is to be shared, and to be eaten alive. I...I..."

Na'lsa stopped. And then he screamed.

His insides once again felt as if they were warring against each other. Flesh burned hot and his blood felt as if it was actually boiling in his veins. Great blackened bones ripped their way out of his back, arching at angles halfway through their length. Twisted and charred, they spread further as he fell to his knees, screaming in an incoherent babble. Each spread five feet in directions opposite of each other, splaying out as if they were the templates for wings wrought from bone. For a moment, they teetered. And then they collapsed in on themselves, and the horrific appendages went racing back beneath his skin.

Na'lsa stared at the ground with wide eyes. For the moment all the demon of Hunger could do was pant. He forced his borrowed heart to slow, racing now after his...ordeal. Raising his head slowly, he locked eyes with the being that was Asasiah. And now when he spoke, it was in a haggard and tired tone.

"Pray tell, what exactly are you?"

Asasiah looked upon the being and kneeled down touching his chin and lifting his head a bit. She smiled a little and let her nail trace his neck. "My name is Asasiah..., I am a creation of Metatron. In the past I was known as Uriel...until I was forged into this vessel, then he gave me a companion. Within me is the demon known as Amaymon...to be honest he finds you rather interesting," Lowering her head down she whispered in his ear. "And perhaps someday...I would like a taste." she said before standing.

She walked back toward the group and looked to Mehetabel. "I will help you, but this is the one time, after this I will take my leave. I think I have found something much...more entertaining than your blind worship of my daddy." She tilted her head and giggled. "Yes, May, I don't like them very much either."

Fear gripped Michael as easily as it gripped the rest of the party, excluding Lev/Na'lsa. 'What a sick pair of bastards, those two.' But a sickening hunger arose with in him as well, not for flesh but for science. Even with the understanding that Asasiah was a religious creation, he could not hold ack his curiousity.
"Now I wonder what would happen if you split into two...would you come back together, or shape yourself into two...the possibilties..." Michael's eyes almost glowed, " are unlimited."

She looked toward Shealtiel and rolled her eyes. "I wanted to ignore you, but your essence is screaming at me more than your voice is." With an annoyed sigh she slid a gentle hand along his neck and her eyes began to glow a bit. "This may hurt a bit..." she said only a moment before her theurgic energy shot into him. She stood in front him and whispered in his ear. "Just tell me when to stop."

He stares into the creatures eyes for a moment, at first shocked, then suspicious, still sensing the unholy presence buried within her.

And yet... what does it matter? In all likelihood, he'll be dead moments from now, there is little risk in letting her have her way.

Shealtiel gives Asasiah a short nod and reaches up to clasp her hand. He refuses to look away as she begins.

The sensation is jolting at first, arching his spine, forcing his eyes wider as he stares into the... inhumanity across from him. Then comes the cold, searing cold, sliding over bones and deeper, into more essential places, seeping through the tatters of his soul.

Then it begins to burn.

A sound escapes the old man, something caught between a grunt and a whimper, but he refuses to give it purchase. Refuses to cry out as she pours harrowing fire into his deepest spirit. And she is true to her word, the wounds within him heal, undoing all that he has suffered since this mad ordeal began.

But, she offered more. And despite the agony, he seizes it. Clutching her fingers in an ecstatic, anguished grasp, he pulls more of the life she offers into him, letting well up and suffuse his old, battered frame. He feels an unearthly vigor flooding his veins, racing into his heart like molten gold. He is gasping, hyperventilating, wracked with pain beyond anything he has ever felt.

And yet, when he at last stumbles back, no longer able to look into that horrible gaze, Shealtiel feels profoundly, horrifyingly alive.

Andarel heard the screech as well, and put his hands over his ears for a moment before relaxing. His eyes scanned around to see who'd done that... and froze. While she wasn't the screech-maker, there was someone there that was glowing with an unearthly light. Fear started to wash over him, started him trembling internally right down to his cloven hooves. Outwardly, he didn't make any sound or motion at all as he saw her. INSIDE, he was screaming 'no' over and over again, a constant chant that he hoped she wouldn't pick up. Dara had been forgotten for the time being.

Once he had ridden the mental wave of fear, and come back down the other side, he allowed himself to accept it and take it in without showing it. Hiding his aura. He'd learned to do it a while ago - had to, to avoid some of the bullying. But it wasn't as easy when the emotion you're trying to quell is absolute terror.

Dara's presence pulled him back to himself, and he made a concentrated effort to stay that way. His condition was simply in such disarray at the moment, that he needed to keep himself as focused as possible, or risk going off the mental deep end. Maybe permanently. If he was going to avoid that possibility he had to focus on the task at hand. Getting himself well enough to move. Walking was going to be a hobble, at least until he found some way to support himself on a crutch or cane. Not that he happened to have any with him at the moment.

Regardless of it probably being a bad idea, Andy made as if to get to his feet. The split hoof, unfortunately, was the one that touched the ground first, and proved that yes, yes that was a very bad idea indeed.

"... Ow." he said aloud, after being forced back down by the pain. "I think... I'll remain sitting. If that's alright with you."

He canted his head politely to her while thinking And even if it's not. I can't even stand at this rate...

"... Who are these people?" he asked Dara, voice quiet enough to be unobtrusive to the rest. Not to mention still a harsh croak from whatever damage had been done to the tissue.

Some fifteen feet away from the light-blue aura, Dante tripped unintentionally dramatically, twisted some, and fell on his back.

...And here I thought I'd be fine, he thought to himself as pain shot up his spine from his latest attempt to save the damsel in distress.

"Um. Well then." He gave Feenai a small shove in the general direction of where he'd figured Dara to be, from Feenai's directions, and remained splayed out. It was too much of a hassle to get up. Still anxious, he groped around his belt and found the badly-holstered gun from the old priest. Some sort of lousy Key, huh.

She looked toward Mehetabel removing her hand from the old man. "You are becoming quite the annoyance, can't you see this party is only half here, or perhaps you are blind to your senses." She shrugged off the woman's haste and looked toward the rest the group. "I believe you are more inclined to judge whether or not we are ready to leave and whether or not to leave the others behind for the moment." She said before tilting her head. "May, I would, but I believe in being absolutely positive, besides these people are interesting."

Michael at the companions he had in front of him. Altiel, Lev, and himself. Feenai, Dara, and Dante were no where to be seen giving a strange sense of discomfort and comfort at the same time. On one hand, not only were those who seemed less heavily equipped away from the group, but the exception to this, Dante, was also gone and he could presume that they were with them. However, what if he wasn't? If anything, from what he's seen, he would had better liked him with the current group than without, more than anyone.
Regardless, with the immense power from both Lev and Assasiah, he saw very little problem in confronting both the nephilim and even the power that currently threatened the island. He checked his gear: Shield, Laser, Psychic Gun. Crossed fingers for luck? That wasn't a weapon, but regardless...
"I'm ready. You guys?"

"We are ready."

Na'lsa spoke both for he and his vessel, voice oozing hatred for the Nephilim. It was high time for his pound of flesh from the creature, and the implied shackles had bruised his wrists long enough. He mumbled to no one in particular, as if having an internal debate with his less empowered counterpart.

"The flesh was a promise but now a promise broken. The flesh will be broken then. Broken and consumed. Broken down to raw portions. Re purposed. Rebuilt. No, you have been a gracious host. You will not die here, and nor will I. They cannot kill the Messiah."

"Wreckage."

Na'lsa spit the word, as if he were disgusted by what he saw before him. He was temperamental at best now, And his mixture of anger for the Nephilim and hunger for a full 'meal' was shortening his already stunted fuse.

He raised his hands before him, calling out to the priestess in a voice oozing with venom.

"What is this? What are these so-called hallowed halls that stand before us?"

Without waiting for an answer, he stepped a few paces closer inward. He raised an accusatory finger in front of him as if to address someone, shouting into the ruined structure.

"Nephilim! Your body is forfeit! I will devour you and anything else that stands here!"

She looked at the man named Na'lsa. For once, she wanted to call someone a little too eager. The air was heavy around them and she felt the power within better than she could from far away. She had little use for fear, so she felt none, even though this trial could very well prove to be more dangerous than she had thought. She heard Amaymon growl in her and she pushed away what little worry she had.

"I think you a far too eager to find what lies within, can you not feel the presence inside? I cannot see it, I can feel it..." she looked toward Mehetabel for a moment, then at the rest those who had accompanied her. "You are a foul woman..." she spoke but she had an odd shake to her voice, more masculine than the woman had heard before. She had no compassion for the woman. She did not know what Mehetabel had said to these people, but, she didn't think she had said enough, and deep within her she was plotting finishing the woman off herself, but perhaps that was only to satisfy her own hatred for her. The demon within Asasiah seemed to be more apparent than before and she slowly walked passed Na'lsa and into the shrine, she had no patience and while she had a few worries about the coming encounter she wasn't willing to sit and wait for it to happen.

Feenai stood still for a moment to make sure she could stand again, then knelt next to Dante and pulled on his arm a little. "Hey, please stand up again? Dara is really close to us but so is that other presence. I don't think it's hostile but I don't want to go alone just in case it is."

Shealtiel gazed into the waiting darkness, unmindful of his companions. If they were to die shrieking, blood-spattering deaths this very instant, he would not look away. Would not be able to look away.

The suggestion had been there since the beginning, since the first catastrophic burst of power that had shook the island, but at such a distance, he could not have been sure. Suspicious, true. Dreadful, certainly. And... intrigued. For all the horrors incarnate in the spirits of Sheol, the sanity-melting mortal terrors they embodied... Shealtiel would be a liar to deny that, in his deeper spiritual dominions, he found more in common with such abysmal powers than with his fellow humans.

He would have to face it, would have to confront it for what it was. None of the others were equal to this. Even the abomination, Metatron's bastard who called herself Asasiah would be able to do little more than inconvenience such an entity.

It may have been the narcotic surge of the power she had lent him, but the old man felt nothing but determination as he stared into the silent, shadowed interior of the Basilica.

His voice shuddered as it escaped him, unable to rein in the godlike vitality coursing through his veins. "You remember, I trust, the Emim?" A zealot's smile spread at the word. "The souls of the damned before God invented damnation. The spirits of prophets left to rot in the colorless wastes of Gehenom, Hades, Sheol. That, Mehetabel, is what has been killing your flock. And not merely an Emim, no provincial shaman lost to name or memory. No."

He could feel black arcs of power dancing across his eyes, could hear the winds of Sheol gusting cold within him.

"Who awaits us within, my friends, is the First Slayer. Legacy of the Fallen World. Firstborn of the Father of Men."

"Cain."

Dara stirred absently at the herb mix in the pot, now broken down into something like a gritty soup. She looked at Andy when he spoke but otherwise focused on the fire.

"I don't really know" she said when asked who the others were. "I found one of them injured when crossing through Thermopylae. He said his name was John, but the man in the brown coat called him Michael." She shrugged. "The man in the brown coat, he says his name is Lev, but he is also a demon the others call Na'lsa. I'm not really sure what to make of them." She continued stirring and looking at the fire. The other three are Dante, Feenai, and the old man is Shealtiel. I don't know who anyone else around here is. We just arrived. I was foraging while the others investigated the settlement here."

Changing position, she took the small pot off the fire and poured some into a cup, putting the cup off to the side and the pot back in the fire. She looked back to Andy. "I'm not sure how to fix a hoof, but a shoe would probably keep it together until the crack grows out."

She tested the outside of the cup, and when it was cool enough to hold, she passed it to Andy.

"It won't kill you. It probably wont taste all that good either, but it might help with the poison."

Andy took the proffered cup lightly, and sipped at it. She was right. It didn't taste good. It tasted terrible. But he was long since used to eating and drinking things he found revolting. And THIS particular foul concoction was supposed to be good for him. Maybe it would ease the dizziness.

When Dara introduced the others to the best of her ability, he nodded at each description in turn, his mind working out a few things completely on its own.

At least two of the people in this party are lying about who they are. The rest are probably well-rooted to the group. No one I have to be wary of. Yet. Except maybe that... whatever she is. That power is staggering, and not something I want to be on the wrong side of.

He continued drinking the herbal mixture, feeling some of the dizziness and nausea abating. Whatever else Dara was, she was a decent apothecary. Andy gave her marks for that.

"I apologize for my sudden appearance..." he said, tail flicking behind him lightly. "If there is something I can do to help you, or the others, in my current condition, I would be happy to oblige... just tell me."

A shoe on his hoof? He'd decide about that later. It didn't sound all that comfortable... then again, neither did a split hoof. Which, judging by the pain, was exactly what he had.

"Pfft. Fine." Dante shook his arm gently out of Feenai's grasp and flopped over reluctantly, then slowly stood up.

...Hm? he wondered, glancing backwards. Where'd everyone go...? Not bothering to brush off anything below his waist, he walked forward a few paces after replacing the gun. A slight tilt of his head betrayed his curiosity towards the newcomer, at whom he was doing his best to focus his "sight" on.

Not exactly human...?

Not sure about herself's or Dante's balance, Feenai put her arm around his waist and walked them to where Dara was. She was fine, tending a pot of foul smelling broth, but the real surprise was the man she was tending to. Feenai tried her best to contain her shock at his appearance, but immediately dropped it as she felt the pain from him. She surmised that he would only be a danger if someone attacked him and he felt in danger.

"Dante, the man with Dara is hurt and probably won't do anything to us," she whispered to him. "Please only act in defense but try to keep watch for any dangers around us?"

Feenai released Dante and slowly approached the man. "My name is Feenai." As she spoke, she bowed slightly while keeping her gaze steady. She sent her mind out to him and felt some psychic powers and shuddered slightly, the psychic assault still fresh in her memory. His felt different though, so she remained calm and waited to see what would happen.

Andy felt the tentative probe of his mind. Instead of retaliating, he paused, calmed his thoughts, and formed them into what essentially would be an extended hand. An invite, as it were. He had nothing to hide, so he would let her into his mind if she wanted to delve into it.

"My name is Andarel." he said with a light smile, canting his head toward her. "I mean you no harm. And even if I did, I doubt I would be able to act on it."

He took the last little bit of the herbal medicine, shuddered, and handed the cup back to Dara.

"I am sorry if my presence is causing you fright or alarm." he said, again apologizing... He must have been used to it. "Again... I wish to help."

Dara nods to acknowlsge Feenai's presence, and then -half forgetting that Dante technically couldn't see, she cleared her thoat softy and asked them "where have the others gone?"

Dante gave a sigh of exasperation. Did he look as if he was about to lunge at the man's throat and tear it out for no apparent reason?

...Maybe I do. Oops. He turned halfway towards Dara as she coughed quietly.

"I was...wondering about that, myself. Far enough that I can't...see...them. I mean, I suppose that very, very faint purple blue should mean something," he added, waving a hand in the general direction of Shealtiel while trying to rid his ears of an incessant buzz that could only be explained by his recent headache.

"I was..." Feenai started, then stopped for a breath before continuing, "unconscious for a time, and I think they decided to check on something Na'lsa found irresistible." While speaking she gave a sort of mental nod to Andarel and withdrew her mind from his. "There was a tremendous psychic assault and I believe the nephilim was involved. I have no desire to be anywhere near something like that, so I wished to find you Dara. I couldn't walk well after my fainting spell, but Dante was kind enough to help me come to where you were." She blushed briefly at remembering how he had helped.

Feenai walked to where Andarel was and knelt before him, extending her hand. "Your presence may have caused me slight alarm but your words and actions make me want to be your friend. If I can help you I would be happy to accept your help in return."

Dara was a little surprised that Feenai should come looking for her in particular, or maybe it was only because Dara happened to be the absent member of the group. "Did you need something?" She adds a little more by way of conversation.

"I'm still not sure what a nephilim is supposed to be. But I suppose it doesn't matter. It is what it is, and what it's up to is more important then what created it."

Na'lsa laughed under his breath, not seeming to care what exactly lay shrouded inside. He stepped forward, follow Asasiah.

"Then we shall murder the Murderer."

In the back of his mind, Na'lsa felt a slight stirring of fear. Whether it was his or Lev's was to be decided, but he stifled it quickly. Within this shrine, this unknown temple lay something extraordinary. And if he could have just one taste of the forbidden meat that sprung forth from the consumers of the forbidden fruit, well...he salivated at the thought. He had been surviving on meat that served to only fuel his need for consumption. Something like this...would be a spectacular boon.

There was no room for fear. Only hunger. Only desire. He would devour or die. He mentally prepared himself for what lay ahead, and crossed the threshold of the shrine.

The interior of the Basillica is shadowed by the fractured daylight breaking through the cracks and gaps in the roof. Several feet off from the entrance, a body lies motionless, crumpled in a heap, limbs bent at impossible angles -- Kasdeja.

Of his attacker, there is no visible sign, though a... stain seems to hang in the air near the center of the sanctuary, amid fallen columns and shattered statuary. It radiates an abysmal power, ancient, alien, and sublimely, horribly aware.

From the motionless form of the Nephilim, a pathetic plea is breathed on a sigh of anguish. "Kill... him."

Before any of them can respond, however, a hollow, chasmal voice fills the chamber, the very sound of it seeming to slay the sunlight and cast them into darkness.



THAT IS ILL ADVISED, AS YOUR PATHETIC, ABOMINABLE COMPANION MAY ATTEST.

YOU STAND IN THE PRESENCE OF A SINNER OLDER THAN HELL.

WHY HAVE YOU COME?

She knew who the stranger was immediately, if she was still the mindless follower of god, she may care about the father of sin being here. But, she did not care, she wanted to kill him, but only because the notion seemed fun.

"Ah, so you are the cause of the disturbance here, I had wondered...but I had hoped for something more interesting. Killing you might be a suitable farewell to this dismal island, a good memory to entertain myself with in the future" Asasiah was nothing but cocky, perhaps a fault, but the flaming sword that slid out from her hand, and the power that seeped in waves from her could be rather intimidating.

"The nephilim..."

Na'lsa whispered, eyes fixated on the broken figure. Deep within him he felt the lust of hunger for that body. The twisted figure that had imposed himself on them. The sweet nectar that coursed through its veins. The meat was a treasure, but the power that filled that body was the real prize.

He cleared the distance between him and the crumpled figure, falling to his knees before it. His pupils grew as his bloodlust began to consume him. With ill intent in his voice, he spoke loudly for those present to hear.

"Nephilim, your flesh is forfeit!"

Andy shook his head quietly, and smiled at Feenai. He tail twitched back and forth as he sat there, but that was really the only part of him that wasn't in pain right at present.

"I do not believe what help I need is worth taking up your precious time." he murmured. "But if there is anything I can do to alleviate your own situation... please, do not hesitate to ask. I will do what I can... although I fear if it requires fighting, you may find me in poor practice."

He set down the tea, and reached toward his ankle to rub it. Probably twisted it. So he could add a twisted ankle to the myriad of things that were wrong with him. It seemed as though he was becoming more of a burden, with the more things he discovered about himself. But... he supposed that was the way of it, wasn't it?

For now, he was content to sit there and attempt some sort of recovery. The herbal infusion he was drinking was indeed helping the pain a great deal.

"As to becoming friends? I would absolutely love to. Where I come from..." he trailed off for a moment, voice going softer. "I have never had a friend."

AND LO, THE LORD SAID, "GO TO THE BASTARDS, TO THE REPROBATES, TO THE OFFSPRING OF IMMORALITY, AND DESTROY THEM!" AND THE NEPHILIM WERE TERRIFIED, SEIZED WITH FEAR AND TREMBLING.

The demon's maw descends, slavering, smiling in a holy ecstasy. Na'lsa falls upon the Nephilim, and the Nephilim screams.

The sound is a javelin of anguish hurled into the ether, piercing to the core of every mind on the Isle. Kasdeja's broken body flails in impotence, his broken mind hurls pitiful blows against the demon's crazed psyche to no avail. Eventually, his efforts cease, his cries dwindle to whimpers, and then to silence.

And Cain watches all, impassive, a gaping wound in this moment, untouched by feeling or empathy of any kind, bleeding out the apathy of the aeons-dead.

In the interminable quiet that follows, broken only by the sounds of gnawing, of blood-oozing swallows, the apparition speaks once more.

TO THE DEMON WITHIN YOU, HYBRID, I SAY THIS: I HAVE ENDURED FAR TOO MANY WINTERS IN THE WASTES OF SHEOL TO REMEMBER WHAT IT IS TO FEAR. YOU WILL TAKE NOTHING FROM ME.

AND TO YOU, URIEL, CRIPPLED AND DEFILED, MUTANT HOUND OF METATON'S MAD CONCEPTION, I WILL REMIND YOU, I HAVE KNOWN YOUR FIRE BEFORE. I STOOD FROM AFAR AND LUSTED AT THE GATES OF EDEN, DRIVEN TO WONDER BY THE GLAMOUR OF YOUR SWORD. I WAS A CHILD, ONCE, BORN BENEATH A BRIGHTER SUN. AND WE MET AGAIN ATOP THE INFINITE STAIR, BEFORE HEAVEN'S ADAMANTINE GATES. OH, HOW YOU SNAPPED AT THE LEASH OF THE LORD, SO EAGER TO SPILL MY MURDEROUS BLOOD. YOU HAVE NOT FORGOTTEN, HAVE YOU?

I STILL BEAR THE MARK, BUT IT CAN NO LONGER PRETEND TO MEANING IN THIS, OUR FALLEN WORLD. THE GOD OF ADAM MY FATHER CAN NO LONGER STAY YOUR HAND. SO BE IT. IF WHAT BEGAN THAT DAY WHEN I DROVE MY SPEAR THROUGH ABEL'S BACK HAS LED TO THIS...

LET US END IT NOW.

The threat in the spirit's words is manifest, and yet, for all the deadly resolution there, he seems content to let Asasiah strike the first blow....

'and you still ought to wonder why east of Eden would lead west of the apple...suspicious that he would reside here...nonetheless' Michael drew both his shield and the new psychic gun. If Asasiah were to move, there would be little time to react. This was not his fight. He needed to observe.