The scream of a hundred corpses rose up at once from the unearthly flesh creature as liquid fire attached itself to his very being. He immediately released the priest as he began to buckle and stumble about, the smell of burnt and rotted flesh swirling together in the dry air. The flames continued to grow, the horrid mixture of napalm sticking to him as it continued to burn through. Flesh crackled. Bones literally exploded from the heat, sending shards ripping through flesh dried and pulled taughtly over quickly evaporating muscle. Large portions of exposed tissue turned golden brown as a layer of crisp like coverings began to well up. The more exposed portions weren't slow lucky, as the skin roiled in the flame. Large expanses of muscle rose up, bubbling from the heat until they exploded in to fiery meat chunks, spraying some of the group with pieces of Na'lsa and Lev. The various limbs began to fall away from the creature, crawling of their own volition towards nowhere as they exercised what free will they had until the flames consumed them. Muscles moved weakly, either being burned entirely or the very water from them evaporating until the skin pulled tightly over them began to stretch like dried papyrus. The main body stumbled closer to Innon, tumbling this way and that as it closed the distance. It buckled a mere fifteen feet before him, the crackling husk finally giving in to the wretched fire. What legs were left curled up in to the body, the fire seeming to retreat to within as the outer husk became black and charred. For a moment there was silence, only disturbed by the crackling of loose body parts still kindling in their unholy embers. Then, it happened.

I will know your FLESH.

All at once the husk exploded, larger bits disintegrating as something shot forward towards Innon. As it connected with his neck, it became clear that a glistening tendril of muscle tissue had curled its way around his neck, pulsing and shivering as the rest quickly caught up with it. The end of it bled as it violently split itself in to two parts, quivering like a snake's forked tongue. No sooner had it done this than both portions violently shot themselves inside Innon's nostrils. They expanded, feeling around and driving deeper until they found the throat, forcing their way back in to his mouth and expanding as they exited, completely running through his airway as the tendrils grew bigger. As it proceeded through his airways, a scant few of the charred bones began to tremble. A leg here, ribs there, broken and cracked spines all started to vibrate as they were manipulated by unseen forces. Without warning, they shot through the air, latching on to various parts of Innon's body. The long tendril of meat began to snake one end around the bones, restoring life to them as tissue and blood began to fill in the empty spaces between the bone structure. The final bit of the horrid tentacle cleared Innon's mouth as it wrapped around the still glistening unfinished body, filling in a hollow skull that reformed itself from dust. As skin began to form around what was quickly becoming Na'lsa, the more and more humanoid form leaned closer and whispered so only Innon may here.

"Cast the first stone and you will be buried with it."

He leaned a bit further, using an elongated tongue to lick a strain of blood that was slowly trickling down from Innon's nose after he had received such an invasive visit from the demon.

"I have experienced your flesh. Don't give me a reason to consume it."

The power is enthralling, narcotic, even as he can feel it sliding against his bones, tonguing the backs of his eyes, brushing death-cold fingers along each alveolus of his lungs... sensations never meant for human experience.

And he has nothing to use that power upon. The priest gone, his body broken and blackened, his soul scorched and sent screaming off to whatever afterlife awaits him.

But it begs release. He cannot contain it, now that he has called it forth to this world. The demon? Not a sound idea, who knows what effects an infusion of Sheol's energy could have on the creature? Certainly not Kasdeja, much as Shealtiel might wish to smite the foul Nephilim. Not these hapless souls who call themselves his companions... then...

A scream escapes the old man, like shearing steel, echoing upon itself as though ten-thousand voices speak through him. Ash-black whorls of power gyre around him madly, whirling so fast as to cocoon him, then they break their momentum, shrieking out in every direction like missiles of darkness, each unerringly piercing one of the crucified Dybbuk.

A wave of silence rolls outward across the field, denying any noise as the bodies fall to dust from the crosses and a cyclone of tattered souls rises skyward, dissipating before it breaches the clouds.

Shealtiel falls.

The hallucinatory wave of colors completely overwhelmed the bounty hunter, the added shriek from the old man nearly bringing Dante to his knees as he clamped his hands over his ears -- not a smart idea given the malfunction of one sense already.

In the field of multicolored aura, Na'lsa's ink-tinted tendrils were obvious. And warping sickeningly. And seemingly throttling a blue...something...that Dante had never seen before.

And I think stuff just blew up.

Straightening up, he crept a bit closer to Na'lsa and the stranger, his curiosity getting the better of his judgement.

As much as Michael wanted to shoot the demon and the "Not" Dybbuk, he let them settle things because...well it was interesting. After a few mental notes about the two beings, he heard an echoing scream, and a the air went suddenly chill.

Two thumps were heard as Michael turned to the falling, old man. "Altiel!" Micheal called out, as he ran of to attempt check the man's condition.

Shouldering her rifle, Dara makes her way gingerly over to where Michael kneels next to the necromancer. Having been out of range of the flesh bomb that was the demon Na'lsa, Dara continues to avoid the remains of the grizzly blast, stepping over and around the leftover entrails.

"Is he alright?"

Dara is still trying to decide what to make of the group she so recently joined, and this latest encounter certainly hasn't helped her analysis any. Still, they had been accomodating enough, if not kind, and that was often as much as could be expected with the world so far.

"Codger."

Na'lsa spoke the word as if it were the nickname for a dear old friend. He let go of his new toy to approach the body of the old man. His gait was slowed, and a limp was apparent, as if his right leg was wavering in strength. In a tired motion he drew himself up a few feet from the body. He took a moment to compose himself, speaking in a somber voice.

"The old man knew what he was getting in to. He had dealt with powers far greater than he, manipulated them, and had wielded something far greater than most mortals will ever know. And in doing so, he risked that very power for the good of something more than just himself. We will honor him."

He took a brief pause, bending down to gently nudge the old man, not at all like his usual self. He frowned, as if not entirely approving of the results from his nudge.

"He's still alive. So much for the Great Repurpose. The charred remains will have to do."

With that he hobbled off towards what remained of the priest, possessing none of his bark. He lacked his usual brutality too, meekly pulling apart chunks of charred meat and eating them like a normal person might eat any other meal. For the time being he seemed almost...neutral.

Dara ignored Na'lsa's speech, again, and started to give the old man a once over, as she had done with Michael after his fall. She checked to see if there were any mundane hurts that she might be able to deal with, but he seemed no worse for wear as far as broken bones went. He might be in for a headache though.

Satisfied he was alive and not likely to die in the immediate future, current dangers aside, she sat back and curled her legs up, waiting on the ground for the the rest of the encounter to play out.

Na'lsa hungrily tore off a few more burnt scraps of flesh from the priest's husk, eating away at one strip and tucking the rest away like some sort of rancid beef jerky. He hobbled along back towards the APC, pausing to take a look down at the old codger's unconscious body. He sighed, leaning down and straining to lift him over his shoulder. He ached in places he didn't know he had. Lifting the man alone was taxing him. With shaky steps, he headed towards the APC.

This is my body. You...I can't comprehend what you've done to it! Leave me be!

Na'lsa stumbled, nearly collapsing as the voice of Lev wracked his head. Was he that weak that a mere mortal could challenge him for control of this body? The demon snapped back, the fatigue in his voice being noted.

"Shut up. Begone mortal."

You're in my head demon, but I'm in yours as well! You are weak! Your power is waning without someone to actually feed upon.

"I said shut up!"

Na'lsa concentrated, willing himself to stuff Lev away in to some corner where he could not bother him anymore. Clearly his powers were exhausted at this point. For the second time in their journey, Na'lsa began to worry.

Innon stood still in a dazed stare at nothing. His expression was ghostly stark white, even for a dead man. The frail demon struggling under the old mans weight snapped him back to reality.

He turned around and observed the odd motley company he was now in.

He turned back to the demon and wondered as to what was really going on, "Who on Earth are you people? Why are you here?"

The voice of the Nephilim echoed in his mind like a voice in a vacant room, "We're leaving. Let's go."

"Who is that? What in God's name is going on?"

Dara looks over at Innon's face as she shoulders her rifle again. She shrugs her shoulders a little, slipping the strap over one of them before responding. "I'm not sure."

Feenai sighed very audibly. More fighting, more pain, more death. And here I am, like a fool, leaving my mind open to take it all in. On the other hand though, the information I receive is probably worth it all.

"HE," Feenai gestured to Kasdeja's retreating form, "is a Nephilim. Very powerful and not someone I feel comfortable disobeying." She realized her laser was resting on the ground, so she stooped to pick it up and sling it over her shoulder before heading off to follow Kasdeja back to the APC.

On the other hand, Dante would've been completely comfortable with disobeying that damn bastard of a Nephy if it had just been the two of them. However, seeing Feenai (and perhaps Michael) torn to shreds was not something he intended on doing anytime soon.

Trailing at the back of the group, he pondered the blue...person...for a bit. Was it even a person? I mean...Kas is obviously not a person...but this guy seems...normal? If not a bit weak, like that "Dara" girl.

At the telekinetic push, Michael looked up to see Kasdeja, who had seen enough from here, apparently. Anger pulsed to his mind. He did not want to be hindered from his care of Altiel. He looked to Dara, who seemed unfazed, and then back to the old man. He didn't want to physically have to "act against" the nephilim's will, so instead he reached towards his latest psychic ability. Altiel's body began to levitate, if at a low height, and follow Michael as he began down the steps. The strain would have been too much for him, if he used his mental block as well, so he dropped it temporarily, letting his frustration flow out to anyone who could see it.

Na'lsa stepped in to the APC, faltering for a brief moment as he almost sunk to the floor. In a split second his body regained its composure, fists slamming against the metal wall in anger.

"I have taken backseat to my own fate!"

Lev's voice was recognizable. His voice no longer having the trait of dirty oil, his accent restored as the mere mortal regained control of his body. The demon was tired, and for now it had decided to rest and regain its strength.

"I feel it. I feel what he does to me, my body. Every bone, every muscle twisting. Surely I am to be driven mad. I am not my own man."

He cursed to no one in particular, raving on as if he actually had an audience. After a while he calmed down, checking his tattered close and battered weapons to make sure they were still in one piece. He was somewhat relieved to find them no more worse for wear than what could be expected. He let out a short huff, turning his fading fury towards Kasdeja.

"And you. What do you need with us? You think you are god. We are mortal. Dustlings, to you! We scrabble like ants and you poke us out one by one. I am getting tired being twisted around your crooked fingers. I am not toy."

He took a bite out of the flesh jerky that Na'lsa acquired in a most angry fashion, as if trying to act tough. He locked eyes with Kasdeja, refusing to look away in an act of both dominance and defiance.