Your fellow armigers stand all around you, filed up in rank, by company then platoon then squad. There is no movement, no rustle of cloth or clink of metal. Your discipline is unflinching. Many would find it difficult to tell if you were breathing or not. Before you is the area called the Pit, the final testing place of your discipline. You have seen many former comrads fall. Due to weakness in body, suffering from exhaustion and fatigue. Due to weakness in mind, unable to remember the complex maze of rules and regulations that dominate your life. Due to weakness in spirit, unable to cope with the constant oppression and hazing. Less than half of those who started on this path with you a year ago now are still here. But you are left.
The rest of the Order files in, everyone not on duty here to watch this last trial. To anyone else, the row upon row of faceless armored figures would have been a sight of terror. But you have moved beyond such places. You barely notice them. Finally, the Vicarius stands, his iron mask sweeping across you, leaving a quiet discomfort. With dispassionate voice and movement he gestures to a signifier, who hisses quietly and calls into Hell. A portal opens and out steps a barbazu, a bearded devil. Thick armor covers a mishmash of skin and scale and fur and spines. The devil snorts, its beard quivering, and grips its glaive, looking it seems directly at you.
"Armiger Amar! This is your time. Do not fail now." the Vicarius speaks, his voice commanding.
The young man steps out of line, crisply saluting the Vicarius. Torchia returns his salute and your fellow armiger draws his blade and steps down into the Pit. The devil focuses on the man, hunching down and holding its glaive in guard. They face each other for a brief moment, emotionless brown eyes gazing into malicious red. A gong is struck and the two rush towards each other. Halet is more graceful than many of your fellow companions, being one of the few non magic users. He spins quickly, blade held parallel with his body, sliding by the devils thrust. He breaks through its guard, scoring a deep gash in the devils hide.
But it does him no good. The devil drops his glaive and grabs the smaller man, claws sinking deep into his shoulders. The armigers expression never changes, no flicker of fear crosses his features. Just a briefly lived look of sorrow and regret. The devils beard lashes out, sinking into his face. Halet screams then, from the pain, and the devil throws him down, picking up its glaive. Halet struggles to his feet, blood running down his face. The polearm swings, and the first of your brothers falls. The devil roars in triumph, raising the bloody weapon above its head. It then grabs the body and head, throwing the corpse over its shoulder and turning back to the portal. It disappears, back to the third layer of Hell, and another steps out to take its place.
"Armiger Bjorn! This is your time. Do not fail now." the Vicarius speaks, as if nothing had happened.
Vorgal takes half a step forward before registering that the name is not his. He quickly inches back, watching the fight closely while running over his prepared spells again.
Bjorn steps up and salutes the Vicarius, and continue walking unto the pit, drawing a plain greatsword and swinging in a predetermined pattern, as a salute to all his squad. His mind clear of any distraction, as this is an individual test, the others triumph or failure are not to help or hinder his options.
This is what I chose, and for what I have been chosen
Finally, Bjorn shouts his platoon war-cry:
Kom helvete, derfor tilhøre ham!!
The devil grins and charges, bounding on inhumanly powerful legs and lashing out with its glaive.
The blade pierces your side, crunching through armor and skin and muscle. It then rips the jagged blade out violently, a rush of your blood following it.
Bjorn clenches his teeth and reacts with a violent kick to the demon's plexus, trying to get him off-guard.
plus stun DC14
Your foot connects solidly with the devil, but turns against its armor and you roll your ankle, causing you to stumble in pain.
The devil outright laughs at you.
Foolish mortal. What hope have thee? it whispers telepathically in your mind, tossing its glaive aside and ripping into you with its claws.
Fortunately your armor protects you from the blows, infernal talons screeching across the metal.
Ignoring the devil's taunt, Bjorn gathers all his strengh and swings his blade in a wide half-moon trying to split his rival in half.
If subtle tactics aren't efective, I'll try with raw strengh
The devil takes the hit and snarls, once again trying to claw at you.
Taking advantage of the initial inertia of the sword, Bjorn spins it quickly over his head and unleashes another letal blow.
The devil shudders from the hit, hunching over and grabbing its shoulder. It quickly disengages and runs over to its previously discarded glaive. It hisses something in infernal and gestures with its claws.
In the middle of the arena another, nearly identical bearded devil appears, roaring at you.
Vorgal curses, invested in the fight even though it is not his own.
Bjorn takes the oportunity to hit the devil again
its all or nothing
Then, he charges against the barbed devil with full strengh
The tension in the room rises. All can see that the devil is almost finished, but with Bjorn hobbling and the summoned ally fresh and ready to go it's still unclear who will emerge victorious.
The bleeding devil withdraws, hurriedly scrambling over to its glaive, putting it's summoned ally between the armored titan and it.
The freshly summoned devil lashes you with a pair of strikes.
Embry watches the combat in silence, his hand on his companion's side. The helm he is wearing is not standard issue for Hellknights, but is just as fearsome. Taken in a to-the-death fight with an Antipaladin hopeful, the toothy mask is more demonic than devilish, but is still intimidating to behold. His black full plate armor matches the helm, and his falchion is also forged of black steel, well-made and well-oiled.
Embry's companion, a relatively small tyrannosaurus, wears studded leather made from the skin of one of its own kind, a macabre reminder that Embry was a hunter of beasts like Vesuvius before joining the order.
Embry readies himself, as he is next in line, and he knows it will be his turn to take on a devil very soon. He pulls out an oil from his bag, rubbing it on his scimitar.
Bjorn understand that only killing the original devil can avoid defeat, so he takes a decision, to overrun the summoned devil while charging the original, again being all or nothing....
Elijah Moore, strolls into the stadium, where the final trial is to take place. He is late, a fellow aspiring Hellknight is partaking in his trial, and he is facing off against two demons. I thought it was only supposed to be one on one, I better be extra careful.
He finds a place to view the fight, but doesn't shove people out if the way to do so. He find a place towards the top.
Bjorn charges, shaking off the pain and fatigue of battle, shouldering past the summoned devil and focusing solely on his target, like a true Hellknight would. The devil sees him coming and raises a paltry defense, but it is futile. Bjorns massive sword cleaves through the haft of the raised glaive and continues on, passing through the devils neck as if it's not even there. The summoned devil charging up behind you disappears mid-swing, back to the Hell it was summoned from.
The Pit goes wild, Hellknights screaming and slamming gauntleted fists against armored chests and stomping the floor. The normally stoic figures all revel in this one moment of celebration. They have a new brother.
Quickly a cleric comes over to you, hands raised as healing magics flow out of him, closing your wounds. He bows to you and ushers you over to the other side of the Pit, where the victors will sit, with you as their vanguard.
Finally, silence resumes, and the Vicarius speaks again.
"Armiger Vorgal! This is your time. Do not fail now."
Good luck, Vorgal!
Vorgal steps forward, mentally reciting the litany in his head. No fire, no cold, battleaxe only, and... watch out for summoning? That had not been in his studies, he was glad Bjorn had gone ahead of him.
Vorgal shifts into his stance, free hand forward, drawn silver battleaxe low to his side. He waits, poised. First blood might determine the whole fight.
As dawn broke, Legaine was awoken by the cries of his captives, many missing tongues or teeth to scream their curses effectively. He needed a new profession, this was taking a toll on him. As he rolled out of bed, he whipped up a breakfast like never before - eggs, fresh fruit, thick cuts of meat and hearty porridge. He served it up to the captives before serving himself. "It's a new day. Today will be the last you see me, and the last day you see. You deserve a good meal." Legaine wouldn't be replaced and the captives wouldn't be spare. Legaine never doubted himself. A devil, he was told, can always be expected to be vicious. He had done his research in training, frequenting the Archives and reading up on all manners of devils and demons. His morning meal was interrupted by the rumble and quake of hundreds of armored feet marching overhead. The Hell Knights were assembling. He quickly donned his leathers, grabbed his bow, mace and dagger, strapped his two quivers on each hip and made off, slipping into their organized ranks.
Legaine stands still as stone in the Pit, watching with all his comrades as the fight continue on. He is taking advantage, though, and not reveling in the bloodshed, but rather studying the creatures faced. He knows that if he to defeat one, which he will have to, then he needs to know their every strength and weakness. Bjorn's fight was telling and revealing all, but he lacked the same strength as that giantish man. He didn't bring a monstrous weapon capable of cleaving his enemies in two, just his trusted bow and mace, so he will have to be careful and tactical about this. Legaine steels himself for what he knows is coming, drawing a deep breath and easing his nerves. You feel nothing. Only what you need.
The gong sounding the start of the battle is struck, and almost before you hear the sound the devil's blade is stabbing towards your throat. You jerk yourself out of the way at the last second, the blade mere inches from your neck.
Devils have few weaknesses, if any. However, you remember once reading a book on torture by the infamous Herman W. Mudgett, who remains to this day one of only a handful of people to have successfully extracted information from a devil via torture, and currently the only one to have escaped Hell's ensuing wrath. His favored method was to cover the devil in tiny slits, into which he would pour small drops of molten silver, one of the beings few material weaknesses.
You salute the Vicarius and take your place in the Pit, gazing at the devil across from you. The gong sounds.
The devil is in your face faster than you would have thought something like that could move, its glaive slicing into your arm, causing blood to gush out.
The devil hisses in infernal, gesturing with its claws, and another devil appears, slightly darker in coloration, but with an identical glaive and an equal amount of malice in its eyes.
While the rest of the Order cheered wildly, Eoko stayed completely silent, hands on her shining obsidian kamas. But then again, Eoko was an enigma-nobody knew anything about her, except her gender. With the Order faceplate constantly over Eoko's features, a crimson cloak covering the back of her head, and black leather armor covering her body, all that the armigers could be certain of Eoko was her gender.
Nobody could deny Eoko's skill, however. With those strange dual scythes, Eoko could strike lightning fast, and often, when she was sparring with the others, the fight was over before it could properly begin.
Eoko simply sat there, analyzing the devil, trying to learn its strengths and weaknesses while it fought one of the others...
You walk into the Pit, smoothly saluting the Vicarius. Your foe waits across from you, hellish glaive held in hellish claws. The gong sounds.
The devil is quicker off the draw, closing the gap between you in the blink of an eye. You lean to the side, almost casually, and the devils glaive slides by you, not touching.
Eoko doesn't even smile behind her faceplate. She had drawn her blades beforehand, and with lightning speed, she attacks the devil.
The blades flash once...
Twice...
Three times...
Eoko curses as she oversteps, throwing off her first strike. Due to the first strike being so far off, the second fails to land as well. However, the third hacks into the devil's hide. Even though its profane protections kept it from harm, it was still a good blow.
A few armigers looked surprised-Eoko had actually missed!-but they quickly quelled it.
The first strike is true, sinking into you just above your pelvis and then tearing back out. It pulls too hard though and the second strike is slow, giving you time to redirect it away from your body. You can feel your blood draining out of you, though it's invisible against the crimson and black.
Eoko is impassive, not even reacting to the massively bleeding wound. The woman steps and forwards simply strikes again...and again... and again.
The first attack is a quick slice to the head, and the devil steps out of the way just in time.
Again, Eoko misjudges her strike, and stumbles forward. Perhaps this was because she had skipped her morning meditation. Her chakras felt a bit off...
Finally, Eoko slashes downwards with her kama, which should have ripped its stomach open... if its infernal hide had not protected it.
Once again, the jagged blade cuts into you, more blood soaking your clothes, causing them to stick to you unpleasantly. And once again, you just manage to avoid the follow up strike, the wind from the blades passing ruffling your clothes.
Caught off guard by the speed of the hulking devil, Legaine quickly nocks two arrows, one above the other, and with nothing more than though imbues his bow with a Devilbane enchantment . His bow shimmers golden for only a second before the energy is transferred to the arrows. Down on one knee, Legaine lines up his shot and releases, preparing to move out of the way of the glaive.
Legaine quickly steps five feet back after launching the arrows, taking advantage of the attack. He wants to keep the devil as far away as he can, but he knows a strong offense is equally important.
Vorgal watches the gong be struck and then barely avoids the attack. No, watch devil and listen next time. He throws the thought away and focuses on what he needs to do. Reach weapon, so step inside of it. 5 foot step towards the devil. Bearded as the last one, so electricity - He hesitates, the glaive still just against his throat. No, defensive first.
Vorgal steps forward, free hand thrown back and silver battleaxe thrown forward. The attack covers the spell forming in his free hand, Mirror Image
The battleaxe misses the devil, but it distracts him long enough fromm the real purpose of the attack, to draw attention away from the free hand. Once the blade passes the devil's focus point, it looks back, shocked to see five Vorgal's in the space. The devil has come face to face with the Elf signature move, Vorgal's Veil.
You feel your spell swiftly shrivel and die, as the magic of the Pit devours it.
The devil tries to take advantage of your concentration and stab you again but you are ready and slide to the side just enough. Taking advantage of an opening in the devils defense you fire, two magically powered arrows taking it point blank in the stomach. It roars in mingled rage and agony and thrusts towards you again.
The phrase "Devil's own luck" runs through your mind as the blade somehow manages to find you, slashing across your chest and leaving a gaping wound.
I can't win a long fight, time to go on the offensive.
Vorgal steps forward to the devil, his shapes following him. Vorgal's axe erupts in sparks and it swings back behind the devils. He brings his hand back, catching at the devils side with a burst of more ( elctricity.
One of its blows passes through one of your images, causing it to dissipate.
That worked, more power in the attack though.
Lightning flashes, bright enough to cause even the multitude of masked Signifiers to flinch, and with an unearthly scream the devil dies, its skin charred and black, smoke rising from its bleeding and broken corpse. The tall elf stands over his conquest like an avenging god, flickers of lightning still crackling around his fingers and axe. The room once again erupts into cheers and adulation, the Hellknights welcoming another new brother. A cleric comes over and bathes Vorgal in healing light, leading him over to sit next to Bjorn.
Legaine recoils from a second attack, gritting his teeth as the blade tears through his leathers and into flesh and muscle. I'm can't take much more of those. I need to recover. Asmodeus, see me through this. My life is yours. After a short prayer, he swears a vengeance upon the foe before, filling himself with a surge of healing energy to help bring him to victory. Legaine prepares for a quick escape. He swings a foot, kicking the glaive aside as he turns to put some distance between them. As he runs, he says a quick prayer and prepares a healing spell. Legaine stops thirty twenty-five feet away, plants a hand on his wounds and releases the energy then turns to face his foe.
The devil snarls as you swiftly slip out of its grasp, but quickly makes up for it while you're healing yourself.
You jerk back, avoiding the worst of the blow, but it still stings, the hell forged blade seeming to delight in the bloodshed.
Not willing to risk giving the beast another opportunity focus on an all out assault, Legaine steps to move away from the devil while avoiding any attack. He stops when after almost fifteen feet and turns to launch two quick arrows, suffused with baneful energies, at the enemy. He then prepares himself for whatever the creature has in store.
He watches, as the bearded monstrosity flinches, giving him the opportunity to react first.
Instead of going forward, Elijah raises his pistol and waits for his enemy to make the first move.
Ready an action to fire silver billet when devil is within 20', then move 20 feet away to break up the straight line charge I have seen the devil do on multiple occasions.
The devil still manages to get a slash in as you try and duck away, your wounds, though better now, still painful enough to slow you down.
You spin and once again try to launch your arrows, but you rush, and the string slaps against your wrist, causing your hand to go numb.
The devil once again rushes in, trying to keep you off balance and off guard. But you're ready, and roll out of the way just in time, praying your luck continues to hold.
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Legaine rolls back from the devil's last attack, putting just enough distance between him and the enemy. Legaine can't stand another wound from that hellish weapon, and he knows it, so he focuses on felling the beast before it gets a chance. Drawing two more arrows, he nocks one and fires, watching it burn into the devil's flesh with baneful energy. A second one quickly following, he plants it perfectly in his mark.