"They is trained from birth 'ew nutta!" Arkash declared with a grunt while he heaved the weight of the plate armor and the human both. The cumbersome pressure wore on his back, threatened the integrity of his spine, and brought his eyes to shut tight in the strain. Argent, from day one were designed and built to be the ultimate killing machines; despite all his skill and strength, Arkash couldn't stand toe to toe with one. His nose still occasionally dripped blood and nasal fluid as testament to the claim.
Fortunately for Arkash, he was offered the chance to momentarily rest his weary muscles as he laid eyes on the hollow ahead of them, for his body froze. It was also unfortunate that the monster had spotted them across the way and began its death charge. Arkash did naught but stare as the golem rushed toward them with its hammer ready. His eyes ran tears while his lips drooled a thick, clear yellow fluid. He was in an instinctual fight-or-flight response, and like a deer caught in headlights, he froze. Alexander's words rang in his ears, though he heeded them not.
When the exposed mage enkindled his dagger, however, Arkash's eyes settled firmly on the amber cracks in the metal before his round pupils lifted to the man. Alexander was a dranoch hunter? Just like Alphonse was, and how Taelian and Asmodei had been before they left. Was everyone in Arkash's life a sigilic pyromancer? Before he could contemplate the matter further, Alexander was gone. The rath's eyes darted about the scene before they settled on the mage, who struck the golem with his flame-imbued blade. Though the golem stumbled out of balance, it didn't fall, neither did it halt in wake of the damage to its chassis.
The black of his eyes flashed in exposure to the magic cast before him, and he took a step back. That man, whom he’d nearly shot dead, was a mage of considerable strength, it seemed. The teleporting, was it Taelian’s Transposition or something else? Arkash’s mind focussed squarely on the magics being cast before him in place of the hollow he feared, but he couldn’t fully ignore the beast. A flamelance was formed in the human’s gauntlet, and later thrown at the golem. It was just as Asmodei had done in the Charger’s raid.
Regardless, Arkash’s gaze was forced to snap to the human as the man cried for his attention. His nostrils flared as he drew a deep breath and flexed his claws. He had to move, he knew so. Quickly, he lifted his birth arm to his long face and wiped the excess venom and tears into his sleeve with a hiss, then refined his senses as the human began to drag him. Quickly, Arkash hurried his pace past the smoldering Golem, then cleared his throat of the built-up venoms and pointed to an intersection in the tall stone pathways. “Jus’ down ‘ere!” He declared with a grunt, and strained his features as he willed his nerve-wracked form to pull the human along.
Somewhere behind them, the hollow fell to the ground in a lifeless clump of materials. It’s receivers were damaged beyond repair, and the damage to its Nexus was far too extensive to allow any sort of movement, independent or otherwise.
“You’s a Pyromanca’,” Arkash spoke to distract from the fact that he’d froze. “An a Transposa’?” he asked, and directed his gaze to the man. “I’ss orite, I got a lotta maeg frien’s, I won’ tell on ‘ew, swea’s i’ on me lyfe,” he spoke with a drag of his claws over his chest in a cross shape. “Jus’ dun’ use youer magics down in th’ sewa’s, orite? Dun’ ge’ people freakin’ ou’, liek.” With all said and done, Arkash came to stop over a maintenance hole in the alley. A final glance was cast to the human as Arkash slung his rifle over his back and checked that the area was clear with a quick glance. “Thanks,” he spoke finally. “...Y’know, for ‘andlin’ tha’ ‘ollow,” a brief grin crossed his lips, but soon receded.
A thump of his foot claws on the grate below prompted the sheet of metal to lift, and the giant armor-wrapped head of the black-winged Velsign emerged. “Arkash?” The man asked with an accent most foreign. “Please tell me you didn’t guide an argent here.”
Arkash shook his head. “Nah, ‘e’s jus’ wearin’ they’s arma’,” explained the rath.
“Oh,” Asmodei returned, and blinked beneath his visor. “Come on down then, fella. You’ll be safer down here than you are in that armor.” With that, Arkash’s eyes widened. He bared his palm to the velsign, and drew a small circle with his claw in the scales there. Asmodei watched the formation closely, then settled his gaze on the human. “When you’re ready,” he offered with a nod, then withdrew into the dark of the hole in the ground once more.
“There’s a bunch mo’ surviva’s down ‘er,” Arkash warned. “Dun’ screw me, orite?” Most of the peole he’d saved were harmless, and weren’t worth worrying about in terms of the safety of others. This man, Alexander, was a different story.
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