[Serra Britt]

Feenai could hardly react to everything that happened. Lev, eating the saint. Jeanne, trying to stop him. Shealtiel, being more active than she had ever seen him. And the birds! The ravens were acting with a ravenous hunger that did not suggest they wanted dead flesh. The birds are acting just like the Dybbuk! In fact... A quick glance at the Network confirmed that people have witnessed Dybbuk spirits inhabiting animals as well as dead humans.

Feenai had no idea if this would be effective enough against such a large horde, but she had to do something or the ravens would rend Jeanne's and Lev's flesh from their bones within minutes. She yanked an Ectoplasmic Dispersion grenade from her makeshift bandoleer, and tore the pin out before she tossed it out the door towards Jeanne. She grabbed the grenade with her mind and held it high above Jeanne and Lev, and hoped it was far enough away from the APC while she waited for it to explode.

"Jeanne!" Feenai screeched. "Run back here! PLEASE!"

[Suzerain of Sheol]

Shealtiel is distracted in the throes of his sorcery, hurling bolts of withering power that send raven carcasses careening earthward to collapse into dust upon the ground. He does not notice the grenade Feenai threw until it goes off, it's invisible force raising only a quivering sensation against his skin.

The effect on the enemy is vastly greater, though. Immediately, the majority of the Dybbuk vanish, sent howling back into the depths of Sheol. Shealtiel can feel the void in the ether where they were only seconds ago. The formerly-possessed ravens flutter awake and begin to fly awkwardly, aimlessly around the area.

With almost casual indifference, the Servant of Sheol banishes the remaining spirits of the Dybbuk, having barely tapped into his own reserves, though he has burned through all of the power he siphoned earlier.

[Funkduder]

Michael had little qualm, if any, about watching his former companions attempt to cope with their new obstacles. He turned off the engine, letting the sun seep in to repower the little fuel that was used. From their distance, they wouldn't be spotted very easily by anyone near the APC. It felt awkward to just sit in silence as the crows were fought off. A flash of light appeared in the flock of crows just as he thought up the words to break the tension of the moment.
"So what are your plans for the future?" he asked Rue. "I don't suppose that we're following the only Servant of Sheol who'd ever travel and fight with a Theurgist for a particlar reason."

[Salone]

Lev was oblivious to the grenade until it went off. The result was catastrophic.

A wave of fire attempted to rip the demon from his body, his very soul. The demon was not unseated entirely, But was at least knocked looser than he usually was. Inside the body, it was a struggle to hold on, a struggle for both of them. Lev felt his own soul trying to split. The physical aspect was much worse.

With the demon not in full possession of the body, his powers over the vessel faded ever so slightly. Lev himself thrashed back and forth in throes of madness as his body opened itself. Every wound he had experienced began to reappear, their time spent healing a product of the distracted demon. His neck ripped itself apart, only then to attempt to close itself again. Gashes reappeared. Blood splattered from wounds reopening all over his body. His right leg cracked, jerking itself violently as the wound was now free from the perverted magic of his captor.

He screamed, the sound unlike anything he had let loose before. The chorus of a thousand violins strung with the tendons of the still living issued from him, the sound both carnal and feral. In his insanity he added to his own wounds, hands both bleeding freely as he dug and tore at his own flesh. The map from his leg began to run red. Every gunshot wound he had ever experienced revisited his body as blood began to literally explode from old wounds. The cheeks on his face ripped themselves open again. The bullet wounds from the day before ripped through his body. A dozen stabbings separated flesh from bone, organ from tissue.It was if he had been caught unaware from a machine gun that would not let up, tearing his body asunder. And through it all, Lev lived. Bone and blood mixed with sand and dirt, made mud of his bodily fluids and the earth's body. And in this mud, he wallowed.

The body calmed after a while, the demon establishing his power over it once again. He twitched, mind completely gone as only instinct took over. The demon played his own hand, orchestrating the body to repair itself. Flesh crept back together and intertwined. The bone of his leg cracked sickeningly as it was pulled back in to his body. Fingers broken in his madness twisted and snapped back in to place. His wounds filled with pus and then sealed themselves off.

Panting hard, the body lay in a state of shock. It took minutes for the form to stand again, once again an aura radiating from his visage.

"Foolish girl. You cannot kill the Messiah."

[Suzerain of Sheol]

Stumbling over to where the demon stands, sweat sheening on his bald pate, Shealtiel comes to a halt before the creature, feeling power bleeding out from it.

Without preamble, he addresses it. "What are you? No mere fiend, to survive that sort of exorcism. You should be screaming in Hell right now." He suddenly turns upon Jeanne where she kneels. "And you!" he thunders, a sudden rage stealing through him. "Are you out of your mind? Do you think you're any match for this thing?" He gestures offhandedly toward Lev.

"Look at him, girl. No, not him, your precious Saint. Just a carcass. Bones, and rotting blood, nothing more. Nothing worth throwing your life away over. As I told you before, Typasius is gone. Obliterated. These Saints do not have the luxury of an afterlife. I suggest you discard all your naive delusions if you mean to live. This isn't a world for hope."

[Salone]

"Hell? Hell?!"

The demon laughed, cackling insanely. The action was extreme enough to warrant Lev's ribs cracking. With a push of his hand, he quickly seated them back in to position.

"My dear son. Hell is not where I belong! For I am born from this Earth. I am born from my people's sorrows, from their sins!"

He stood straighter, opening his arms wide to gesture to everyone who had assembled before him.

"For god so loved the world, he gave his only son! I am Legion, for I am many. A demon not of hell, but born from this world. But even demons, the lowest of the low, are His children! And when the Father falls, a child must take up his mantle! My brethren! We think we have only seen this Chapter beginning to unfold, but mine eyes have already seen the Final Act! It is my destiny to cast us in to the Heavens once again! In his death, Our Lord Father leaves his work incomplete! By the ingestion of the Saint, I have seen that God's work must truly be my own."

He lowered his voice, beginning to calm after the surge of power flowing through him. He whispered, looking over his body.

"This vessel has served me well. I contemplated abandoning it, realizing my higher calling. But it is capable of so many things. The body is strong. The mind strong of will, if not intellect. The soul chained. But it can serve its God, even in bondage. It shall continue to live, until all have joined us in the Promised Land."

He looked back up, smiling at everyone. Insanity was evident in his eyes, drunk on the mad rush of power.

"Rejoice, my children! For today is a joyous day! You have witnessed a return! For I am the Messiah. The Lion of God! His Child who feasts upon the Lambs too meek to inherit his Earth and Kingdom! I cull them, so those worthy may enter the House of the Lord!"

[CupcakeDolly]

The ache in Rue's head grew stronger, and she squeezed her eyes shut, focusing on aligning each signal coursing through her mind in such a way that they didn't intersect and clash with each other. By then it had become far too difficult to tell exactly what had happened up ahead. She was hesitant to even close the distance to find out.

"Hm... What? Oh, them. I suppose." The artificer's words overlapped another voice, and Rue finally realized that during the distant cacophony somebody had been attempting to break through her walls. Her presence flared with tangible anger. "CLIVE!"

She opened the connection violently, as if she were kicking a door open in the face of an eavesdropper - which was actually exactly what she was doing. She felt the presence recede meekly, then reappear.

"I see you have been blocking mother and Constantine. Not even they have discovered your whereabouts. But then, your power has always been great enough to ensure -"

"Enough! Your groveling is not helpful at a distance, Clive." Despite her tone, Rue relaxed somewhat. The headache had faded with the admission of her half-brother's signal, and with the relief of finding that it hadn't been her mother. Clive was good for little, but his psychic walls were strong, and his utter devotion would ensure Rue's safety.

"Forgive me, sister. I only wanted to offer help. You must ascend to the throne before this house realizes your intentions."

"You are spouting nonsense." Rue hid her sudden hesitation with perfect nonchalance.

"I know you too well, Ruebella. You think I am a fool, and though I am struck dumb by my adoration of you, I can guess at what you desired so much that you felt you had to leave us. I want you to succeed, dear sister, and I wish to act as your tool so that when you become our lord I might stay in a lofty position at your side." He paused then, Rue guessed, for dramatic effect before he continued. "I have discovered this much - Constantine has targeted one of the Seven Priests for crimes related to treason against our Lord. If you are to find what you seek, you must do it quickly. There has been blood shed over your absence, and you cannot go on as peacefully as you are for too much longer."

"I will consider what you have told me, Clive. Now leave, and STAY OUT OF MY THOUGHTS." With a huff, Rue broke the connection and fell back against her seat. Her face showed signs of physical weariness as she closed her eyes and kept her mind clear.

[Funkduder]

Michael can recall hearing many different answers when he has asked former colleges and even those who followed Jez'ebel back when he was a child, but when talking about the future, he never heard 'Hm... What? Oh, them. I suppose.' It was a type of answer that made him feel ignored. "But why would she try to igno-
"CLIVE!" It was a mental scream that grew so loud, that he found his mental shield to have been popped, as though it were a bubble. It was disappointing. However, it was a still a mixed blessing. Although being shocked by his sudden moment of vulnerability, his mind was allowed to see what around him, and he listened in on the conversation that his employer was having with Clive. 'Seven Priests' 'Constantine' 'Our Lord'. These words went through Michael's head as he pocketed his new memory and then began adjusting his blocks, trying to find ways to improve them even more than before so as to not let it happen again.

[Sage]

Jeanne cried out as she was thrown to the ground, a hand rising to her cheek where a bleeding scrape had appeared before going to her knife. The fury at this man whose life she had saved devouring the blessed body as if it were mere meat rose to a peak, and she was about to threaten him again when the bastard began to yell and the ravens descended. 'They can have him.', she told herself, an uncharacteristically spiteful thought; running back to the APC, she shielded her head before an explosion sounded and the birds ceased their attack.

"T-thank you, Fee," she said, her voice warm as she realized that her friend had thrown one of her grenades. "And you, old man." The tone was not as friendly, but not quite openly hostile.

Glancing back at Lev at the unearthly sounds of his screams, Jeanne gasped. "O-oh, God-!" She clasped her hands over her mouth as the man ripped apart his own flesh, aiding the wounds that were already appearing. Her eyes began to water as the blood flowed around him into a deep puddle and she had to suppress her gag reflex. Jeanne had just told herself that two brushes with death was enough, she wouldn't heal him, she couldn't - when, with agonizing slowness, the wounds began to meld together again, flesh becoming whole again. And as the demon who had once been Lev stood up, she took a step back, and then another, until she was right next to the surviving Wrath Sword, where she kneeled, hand tightening around the hilt.

Jeanne said nothing as the old man began to ask questions of what couldn't possibly be human - she had the same questions - but when he turned on her, she shrank back.

"I...No, I-" But of course he talked through her stuttered explanations. "W-without hope t-there is no reason to l-l-live," she said, crying openly now. "I-I just wanted to b-b-bury his body! Is t-that too much to a-ask?" Of course Jeanne knew that the Saints could not return to Heaven, but to bury his body was to regain the sense of normalcy that she had lost when their current group had come together.

She kneeled there, sobbing, for what seemed ages before she realized that the demon in Lev's body was talking. Raising her head, she watched his movements through the tears still streaming down her cheeks; it didn't break her concentration when she untied her bandanna and wiped the wetness off of her face and neck. When the fabric touched the scrape she felt a sharp sting, but it was ignored.

"Y-you're wrong," she whispered. "God loves - l-loved - everyone! We are a-all his children! We are all worthy!" As she spoke to herself, her tears began to slow, but she was afraid to speak louder. Even though she knew she was right, the way that the old man had referred to the demon made her more afraid than she would have been had she only seen an immortal lunatic.

[Serra Britt]

Feenai let out the breath the was unconsciously holding as she surveyed the aftermath of her grenade. The ravens had either all flown off or had died, she saw some of them lying on the ground around Lev, unmoving black husks.

Lev's...or rather, the demon's pain was washing over Feenai and making her dizzy. She could hear him talking, as well as Shealtiel and Jeanne, but she could not concentrate on the words at all. She collapsed back into the APC, fighting against lying down on the seat but failing miserably. Despite the outcome she was rather pleased with herself. Unlike the last fight, this time she had done a lot more work and had probably saved them from a grisly fate.

Unable to concentrate, Feenai let the pain claim her as she closed her eyes.

[Salone]

Lev nodded to Jeanne, listening to her like a parent might listen to a child.

"We are all his Children. He loved us very much. But he is no longer here. An ocean of chaos roils beneath the heavens. Our glory was cut short. But it is time to resume what he started."

He stepped closer, noticing Jeanne's scrape. With a wave of his hand, her flesh pulled together quickly. The wound seemed to almost sew itself up, becoming painful for a moment right before all pain melted away. The wound itself scabbed, as if it had been on the mend for quite some time now. Lev smiled at her once again in insanity.

"Go with your new god. Bury what is left of your Saint, dear child. For we must all leave those behind that which hold us to this world."

With that, he strode away from the group, distancing himself so he could concentrate.

[Suzerain of Sheol]

Releasing a short, breathless laugh, Shealtiel staggers over to the pair. Chuckling again, he says, "Not just a Saint you sated yourself on, then, was it? Bene ha Elohim. A Cherished Son of God. And you... you're no simple demon. Not like any I've encountered before. Some kind of protean being, a chimerical essence seemingly naturally optimized for adaptation and assimilation. Dangerous... and fascinating."

He steps closer, locking eyes with the entity before him. "Tell me, do you have a name?"

[Salone]

"A name?"

He blinked, seeming confused. 'Lion of God' seemed like it would have been enough. But people would need something else to call him by. Something short. Something the masses could remember, could chant in their fervor for him as he rose them up to the heavens. After a deep and slow breath, he faced the old man.

"My name is Na'lsa. And I will be the new Light in this world."

[Espy]

Dante had some few minutes before ducked behind the APC, not knowing exactly how far away the grenade was. Now, with his arms crossed, he listened, straining his ears, to the Lion's blabbering.

Maybe the things wasn't as dangerous now...? Hoping this was true, he slipped out from the shade and approached the widely strewn corpses, ready to loot enough gold for maybe a decent meal or two.

[Sage]

Jeanne's breathing hitched as the demon approached her, and she flinched as his hand moved; expecting the sudden pain to be more wounds, the theurge was surprised - and confused - to find an almost-healed scab instead.

When Na'lasa turned away, she took the opportunity to stand up and run back to the relative safety of the APC, where she found a trowel but no shovel of a decent size.

"Fee, can you-" Jeanne began, about to ask her to hold the Wrath Sword for her while she dug a grave, when she realized that her friend wasn't moving. Carefully she set down the weapon and went to the psychic, shaking her shoulders.

"Can you hear me, Fee?" Jeanne was relieved to feel a heartbeat - she didn't want to bury two bodies - but that didn't mean her friend was okay. Opening a pouch at her side, she withdrew a small canteen of water and unscrewed the cap.

[Suzerain of Sheol]

Nodding after a moment, Shealtiel mutters, "That will have to do, then."

He makes his way back to the APC, tacitly ignoring Jeanne's frantic ministrations. After a moment, having taken his seat in the rear once more, he addresses her, interrupting her treatment of Feenai.

"So, are planning to keep that, or march it all the way back to Corinth? I suppose you could, conceivably, make the journey, assuming you're willing to use those powers of yours on yourself, but it's a long way, and I doubt our dear friend Saint Acacias has the well-being of that Sword much in mind, given what's happened to his town the past few days. If you're determined to return it to the Legion, I'm sure we can find another Saint once we move farther south. Speaking of which, we should probably be going before this wasteland spits up yet another threat on our lives."