[Salone]

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]

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."

[Funkduder]

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."

[Asasiah]

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."

[Suzerain of Sheol]

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.

[Rainbowfox Ari]

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.

[Espy]

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.

[Suzerain of Sheol]

Mehetabel looks at the group with eyes wide, but in truth, it is not the chaotic events that have just unfolded for which she trembles, but her trepidation at the power that is even now stirring so near on the isle.

She addresses them abruptly, her voice strained with worry. "If we are to do this, then we must go now. My people have no weapons, and cannot aid in this. I will accompany you, and see this through. Let us hope to the Master that we survive.

She sets off out of the town, trusting that those of the company brave enough to face the power will follow.

[Asasiah]

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."

[Funkduder]

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?"

[Salone]

"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."

[Suzerain of Sheol]

Mehetabel leads them out of the village without further discussion, down to the coast, and southward. They pass along the desiccated shore, crunching through the lifeless sands. As they draw nearer to their destination, the sense of a crushing presence laying in wait somewhere up ahead grows stronger. The priestess begins to sweat in fear, despite the calm she is attempting to project.

Eventually, after perhaps an hour, the ruined walls of the Basilica come into view. Most of the structure lies in ruins, the roof collapsed, leaving heaps of ancient marble strew across the surrounding area.

A small shrine remains standing, its inner recesses dark, seemingly immune to the afternoon's deepening sun.

[Salone]

"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!"

[Asasiah]

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.

[Serra Britt]

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."

[Suzerain of Sheol]

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."