#The Unholy Wrath (Prowler's Unholy Form)

[ask-the-friendly-ink-demon]

Betrayed

//well then.... oh boy do we have a story for you to enjoy. a big thanks to me pal @maxxicab for the inspiration of this with some of the roleplays we did of these guys lol. this is just my own take on how this event in prowler’s life during the hiatus of this blog was taken on. and don’t worry, you might see what became of his good pal drago soon,,,,,~ :)

Betrayed? bertrayed.... “BETRAYED! ABANDONED!” prowler whines, clutching his head “CALM DOWN SAMMY...” he says, as a yellow glow emitted out of his ink covered eyes. actually. smaller mutiple eyes were starting to form around his face as he tried to remember “B...BETRAYED... I COULD GIVE YOU A LOT OF LISTS OF THAT ONE PAL BUT... THERE IS ONE THAT I WONT EVER FORGET... BUT THE ONE THAT HAD THE MOST SATISFYING ENDING OF IT ALL.....” he says, rumbling as he recalled the memory like it was just yesterday.... --- Prowler snarls, breaking down the door. along with obsidian as he roared loudly in his hunter form, sprouting out wings and roaring loudly at azix’s direction “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAZZZZZZZZZZZIXXXXXXXXX!!!!” the fusion demon stops as he was halfway about to devour trainer, his eyes widened widely before he grabs the past trainer, before rushing off. turning to that naga like form as imp’s trainer blinked slightly in panic. while Obsidian whines, quickly scrambling out of the door before he takes flight, trying to stop prowler from harming his ‘friend’ prowler glances back, before roaring in surprise as obsidan tackled him, the two crashing to the ground, his eyes widened, drago was..... no.... no he couldn’t..... his body steams and glowed, before he roared loudly in anger “YOUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!” he roared and stabs the dragon demon in the huge lava like crack, the other instantly yelping and crying out, before being blasted into the lake, roaring out in fear and panic. prowler growled as he was in his tyrant form now, before changing to his hellhound form, roaring before chasing after azix once again. it didint take long for him to find him. but he was too late. he roars out as azix quickly swallowed up imp’s trainer in his body, the other would notice and freeze on sights, before screeching out as prowler nearly mauled him “YOU! YOU SPIT HIM OUT RIGHT FUCKING NOW!” he says, roaring as he tries to get trainer out of him, azix on the other hand was screeching slightly, forming mutiple arms like the last time they fought on the playground when he tried merging him all those months ago.... he still notices the faint crack and scar on the other’s chest from when he ate himself out the other’s chest.... he gets kicked off as he snarls a bit, before seeing the changes already happening to the other’s body, with bumps and rumps, as the eye was twitching slightly. like trainer was trying to escape, or be in control. as prowler went to attack him once again, but he was too late. azix nearly screeches out in anger “LEAVE US ALONEEEE!!!-” he was cut off by prowler punching him across the jawline, before it twitches, clenching it’s hands into fists as he growled a bit, the two glaring down at eachother “YOU WANT HIM BACK?! WELL YOUR JUST GONNA HAVE TO KILL ME AND LOSE YOUR BUDDY AGAIN!~” he says, grinning widely as he starts laughing. prowler just twitches, before roaring in anger as his body changes and morphs, growing taller and more corrupted as azix’s grin twitches and shrinks, his eyes slowly shrinking down as he stares “.....Oh.... you... got to be.... fucking kidding me....”

Prowler growled, steaming with baal’s corruption, toxicity, his own corruptions, and overseer’s corruption, growling loudly as the demon towered over azix, before he roars with all his mouths, firing out mutiple rays as azix nearly screeches, crashing through several trees, steaming and grunting as he stumbles and staggers a bit, before glancing over and screeching as he gets slammed down onto the ground by prowler, the two clawing and biting into eachother as prowler snarls, using the tails to tear out chunks of azix as he kept demanding him to take out trainer but ya know how he replied? by spitting acetone into the demon’s face. Prowler blinked, staring, before he nearly snarls, the demon firing out rays into the other’s body, azix nearly letting out a ear piercing scream that echoed all across the forest. just as his ‘friend’ finally got out of the lake but was heavily melted and hardened up to rock and ink. Prowler growled, seeing pieces of him scatter all around, growling and roaring before he tries to dig out trainer’s soul, but to no avail. some of azix’s ink tried to connect with his but it screeched as it got into contact with prowler’s corruption, the ink sizzling and burning as prowler notices, before roaring as he emits a shockwave, knocking the other’s ink back as the ink that got affected by the corruption started sizzling, going into the other as it formed into a strange messed up fusion of bendy and sammy but. affected by prowler’s corruption. the messed up distorted fusion lets out a distortred scream, the ink burning as a green silt appeared in the piecut eye, along with a crack appearing like it was wearing a mask, the fusion twitches as it had sammy’s overalls. but strange enlarged droopy horns, it’s limp was still there but coated in a purple glob almost, along with sharp clawed gloved like hands too, nothing else really changed but it was a bit creepy none the less. the corrupted prowler growls as the other snarls and rushes at him, claws out and that green eye now glowing a harsh reddish purple color the two slammed into one another, growling and barking as he slammed azix towards the ground hard, hearing a satisfying crack “GUESS WE’RE DOING THIS THE HARD WAY!!” he says, grabbing him by the neck and jabbing his claws into the cracked eye, pumping him with all his corruptions that were in him, causing azix to nearly screech and roar out in pain and agony as he slammed the other towards the plains, farther from the lake. farther from drago. prowler growled as he tossed the other a few feet away, watching the corurptions badly affecting and deforming the fusion demon’s body up like hell. the fused up form of him and sammy nearly melted apart or was added into the mix as azix nearly roars out in pain and anger, turning more. dragon like. with his neck becoming long or crooked, his body twitching and steaming as he tried to contain his body and such. his ink turning from black to nearly a disgusting brown, with gears and mutiple other eyes appearing everywhere as he coughs and roars, drooling green and blue blood out of his body and mouths as he formed messed up pairs of bird like wings, twitching and snarling slightly before he nearly roared out at prowler, lunging and clamping his jaws around him, the corrupted demon roaring and snarling, before forming into a more monstrous state of his corrupted self, with all the parts he took from the others awakening inside him, forming two more tails as he roared loudly, ‘akuma’ snarled as he bashes azix’s head in, growling as the two started to fight like bears and lions, clawing and clamping their jaws around eachother as they kept going apeshit on one another. their bodies and ink glowing slightly.... Prowler roared, slamming the other’s head in, growling as he slowly started to become more beastly, turning to a messed up corrupted version of his unholy form as he roared loudly at azix, who became a more, nightmarish version of a beast bendy, though with all of azix’s messed up and grossed up appearances and ‘forms’ all merged into one. rather disgusting monster, the two monstrous corrupted beings roared loudly in a feral manner at eachother, losing all signs of sanity as they nearly went head to head with eachother, tearing into the other’s body and ‘flesh’ as more of their ink and body started to glow and seemgly melt into the other.... Obsidian finally recovered enough as he yelps and whimpers, before quickly flapping his wings and flying off, following a faint trail of ink and messed up trees and such, before he notices the fight, his eyes widened before he roars a bit and rushes forward, trying to stop it before he yelps as he nearly gets blown backwards as a big light bursted out from the two, the dragon demon nearly screeching out as he stumbles, before his eyes widened as a big ray nearly pierced through his own body, roaring as he nearly got himself blown up. but managed to keep himself from blowing to a billion pieces, steaming and cracking as he groaned and coughed, staggering up as he fell to his knees instantly, groaning as he remembered that bird he has inside him, becoming a more, fused up mess of himself and that bird, jinx hisses and coughs, flapping it’s wings before seeing a big crater formed... along with a surprising mix of two demons in one.... prowler and azix in their battle seemed to have accidentally fused into eachother to become one. massive. messed up, deformed corrupted as fuck demon..  ‘perfection’ lets out a loud booming roar sprouting crystals everywhere as the crystals impaled the other fusion, jinx screeching as the crysytals bursted into it’s own body, coughing and steaming as they stumbled back, eyes wide as they stared in shock at their friend....friends? their memory was starting to get jumbled up, their ink and feathers messing up as the fusion already became unstable. as for the prowler and azix fusion though... it was just created... and by god were they still as pissed as ever. but prowler soon became in full control, roaring loudly at jinx in anger as the other roars were pretty much all of azix’s souls screaming as one in tone with prowler’s monstrous echoing roars. the roars boomed as they nearly charged towards jinx, screeching slightly before it slammed it’s claws into the fusion, the other screeching out before the other started bashing it’s claws and fists into jinx, the bird dragon demon fusion letting out several pained caws and roars, before their head was grabbed, as the other started headbutting jinx rapidly, forming several cracks and stuff, before the fusion roared, nearly blasting the fusion into a messed up pile of fire, ink, and corruption. The Bird that was fused with the other cawed as it weakly flew out, flapping it’s wings slightly as it coughs, drained of energy and corruption before flying off, coughing and squeaking. ‘perfection’ growled, steaming before glaring down as the messed up rocky pile of Drago that slowly started forming, the other groaning and coughing as he yelps, staggering back as his eyes stared in horror, trying to call out to his friend, but that just made prowler more pissed off, roaring as he punches drago RIGHT in the crack, causing the other to roar out in pain as he crashes into a tree, the tree nearly breaking or bursting up in flames as he coughs, holding his chest as he knelt down, coughing as he started to form into a messed up dragon like form out of instinct, coughing as his ink acted like fire almost, but as soon as that ‘alpha’ like form came, the three heads looked up before ‘perfection’ blasted them into a messed up pile of ink with one powerful ray. Drago coughed and whined, melting and cracking as he steamed, looking up weakly and in fear before trying to call out to them again, but this time to prowler, saying he was ‘sorry’ for faking his memories getting wiped out- that just earned him a distorted messed up roar of anger, that was when the realization hit. this wasn’t prowler anymore, nor azix, it was something else. they were far too gone to even understand but. somehow. prowler still remembers. that was when the dragon demon tried to escape, before prowler roared, bringing his claws down as he tore off drago’s arm, the dragon demon roaring out in pain as he held his arm, staggering as he whimpered and coughed, before looking up as his eyes widened, melting and steaming before he yowls as the messed up fusion of prowler and azix grabs drago’s entire waist, before the dragon demon’s eyes widened as he was suddenly pumped with a huge dose of all types of prowler’s corruptions, nearly roaring out loudly in pain and agony as the process was already happening by force, prowler wanted drago to suffer for every second of pain that HE putted him through in the past. this was what he gets. for harming him. for betraying his trust. for being with... someone like that demon.... the dragon demon coughed and screeches out more before slowly becoming limp, more of his old and new wounds showed up as the corruption was causing all of his forms to ajoin into one messed up form, before the fusion decided that enough was enough as it roared and slammed the limp and nearly destroyed drago into a huge boulder, the boulder nearly blowing itself up as drago was burried underneath rocks and dirt and excess ink and goop. ‘perfection’ roared out in the air loudly in a feral tone. before steaming and groaning, their monstrous body slowly melting away as the excess ink and stuff possibly went into the buried up crater that drago was in. the fusion pants and steams, a lot of energy was taken out. prowler was just about to unfuse when he realized something... no wait.... this needs to happen.... but he knows he can’t contain azix and all his souls and demonic energy, no matter how destroyed and partly dead that the other was currently. so he uses what energy he has left, to sprout out two pairs of wings. flapping them before flying away from the scene, glaring at the crater that drago was in. before grunting as he flies off. back in the lodge, a much more younger looking projectionist was blinking as he was staring at a strange little flower creature that had just fused with a deer, the two having a staring contest, both of them tilting their heads at one another. buddy’s projector light glows purple as he blinks, noticing someone coming, he stares in shock as the fusion of prowler and azix lumbers into the lodge, buddy was just about to pull out his sword beforehe blinks, seeing the fusion unfuse, as prowler. who was in a mixture of his corrupted form and inked form, was holding a pretty banged but messed up azix, who was looking more like a standard ink bendy but. horribly damaged and badly wounded, looking like mud almost. both buddy and the flower creature stares as buddy glances up to prowler “uhm..... what...” he blinks as prowler pretty much drops azix in front of him, “YoU DeCidE wHAt to DO wiTH hIm. im GOing TO hAve a sITdowN AND SLowLY rEgrEt mY CHoICeS.” he says, before wandering off. buddy blinks, before staring down at azix, who simply glares at him, while melting a bit more, a tail formed out of buddy as his projector light suddenly turns a full out purple, before it beamed red, the little deer flower creature only blinked and tilted it’s head slightly as azix internally cursed himself like “ah... fuck.” ---- Prowler sighs as he finishes telling that story, glitching as he was aware of the other changes around his body, sighing a bit as his ink melted “I CAME DOWN THE DAY AFTER AND SAW NO TRACES OF THAT FLOWER CREATURE OR AZIX, I MET UP WITH BUDDY IN THE OTHER ROOM AND ASKED HIM WHAT HAPPENED. HE JUST SAID ‘they’re in a better place now’ BUT I NOTICED THERE WERE CHANGES AROUND HIS BODY, AND THAT HE LOOKED MORE HUMAN.... I KINDA FIGURED OUT QUICKLY THAT HE CURRENTLY HAS ALL OF AZIX’S SOULS AND ENERGY AND THAT LITTLE FLOWER DEER CREATURE INSIDE OF HIM.... “ he hums and grumbles softly, his inky aura fading as some of those minor changes started fading away “THOUGH I HAVEN’T SEEN ANY ATTEMPTS FROM THAT DEMON ITSELF TRYING TO TAKE CONTROL. BUDDY SEEMED PERFECTLY FINE. IN FACT HE STATED THAT SOME OF THE SOULS INSIDE HIM NOW STARTED CHANGING AND ACTING A LOT NICER.... WHICH IS... GOOD I GUESS.... EHEHE....” he says nervously, rubbing the back of his head as he recalled that the sammy inside buddy pretty much hated him... FOR GOOD REASON TOO. “THOUGH I ASKED HIM AT ONE POINT WHAT OF THAT DEMON. AND HE’S JUST SAID THAT THE OTHERS INSIDE HIM ARE CURRENTLY GIVING HIM WHAT HE DESERVES.... I CAN’T HELP BUT STILL LAUGH AT THAT.” he says, yawning a bit as he melts slightly “HOW LONG HAVE I BEEN TALKING FOR AGAIN...?” ---

Azix And Buddy and little flower creature Belongs To @sammys-sanctuary Obsidian/Drago/Kur Belongs to @lunatheoutcasted

#Modern Reflection; Little Devil Darling (Bendy Prowler Devil) #Buddy Pendle Conner #Azix The Fusion Demon #The True Events (Canon) #Roleplay based story on discord #A Cure For The Demon (Reincarnation ARC) #Recalling The Past (Learning About The Story Of The Demon's Past) #Drago The Dragon Demon #Fusions #Long Post #A New Home For Everyone (Henry's Lodge) #Roll Call! (Asks) #Fan Mail (Answered Asks) #Friendly Ink Demon (Pseudo Form) #What Happened...? (Corrupted Demon) #The Demon's Forms (Prowler's Transformations) #The Unholy Wrath (Prowler's Unholy Form) #i cant help but shriek at how long i spent on this #FREAKING #FIVE GODDAMN HOURS #OF WRITING. #GJDJGJDJDH #hope it was worth it cause i just fucking mentally died LOL #also scratch that #it wasn't five hours my bad #IT WAS GODDAMN SEVEN HOURS #LONGEST GODDAMN ASK I'VE EVER DID IF I SAY SO MYSELF #THOUGH I MIGHT BE JINXING MYSELF CAUSE THE NEXT ONE IM PROBABLY GONNA DO IS PROBABLY GONNA BE EVEN LONGER! #EEEEEHGJDJGJFDJHJFH

[existence-overwhelming]

Thy Reality Consumed

Dusty Viscera

Author - Player Characters - Doom Slayer, Demons, Ruby Rose, Yang Xiao Long, Weiss Schnee, Blake Belladonna and Bartholomew Oobleck. Word Count - 14,510 Description - One of the countless incursions carried out by the forces of Hell begins, and the timing couldn’t be any worse for those on the receiving end of it all. But so long as the surviving bastion of a bygone era remains--innocent blood shant be spilled like it did on that day.

Fear.  Among many things, fear has proven to be and still is the most effective motivator, the single thing capable of delivering utter control unto any man, woman or child. Fear drives the desperate into taking spasmodic action in a feverish attempt to prolong their life; it has a profound effect on a war, either crippling or bolstering the resolve of entire armies; and yet the most impactful result fear could bring about were in the reputation of important icons located throughout the annals of history. Examples of such terrifying individuals were Genghis Khan, Vlad the Impaler, Elizabeth Báthory, and Gilles de Rais--they dominated those of a lower status than themselves by way of intimidation, cruelty, and often psychopathic violence.  But such cruel savagery was limited to not just the malign-hearted. When the need for individuals capable of such inhumane barbarity rose, the civil called upon their most stalwart members to take up the arduous mantle of the monster. In the name of all that was morally just and good, these men and women were to spread untold horror, paranoia, and dread into the hearts and minds of all those who’d dare threaten the laic. Through this, fear could also function as a tool for the righteously benevolent. And it had been that very fearmongering icon of righteous deliverance that had quite literally given Hell a run for its money.  The unholy denizens thought themselves the pinnacle of cruel and abhorrent bestiality, but they hadn’t even scratched the surface of true brutality. As such, they were vastly unprepared for the stark visceral barbarism forced down their individual throats by the castigator of the fallen dimension.  Immediately preceding the assimilation of Argent D’nur, the bastions known simply as the Night Sentinels struck hard against the oncoming demonic legions. Betrayed and now facing an inexorable defeat, they let loose a primal fury never once thought possible by even the most iniquitous of heathens. The forces of hell were battered and routed, again and again, but with every battle, the utmost minute casualties of the doomed bastions whittled their numbers down little by little. Yet their ferocity never waned, resulting in a prolonged subjugation that only came to an end when the Icon of Sin’s advent--one aspect of the inconceivable price the exploited Sentinel had to pay--marked the final stages of the dimensional convergence. With this, the untold legions of Hell were wholly loosed upon Argent D’nur: eventually overwhelming even the stalwart guardians of the Argent Wraiths.   Despite the incredulous advantage of their numbers, however, it was not until all but one Sentinel remained standing did they shed their first drop of innocent blood. Until only the leader of the Night Sentinels, who was by far leagues ahead of their colleagues, stood as the last bastion of a doomed existence, the demonic wretches failed to lay a claw on a single noncombatant. Such was the unparalleled choler and sheer might of the dreaded Night sentinels. In the end, though, Argent D’nur was toppled and subsequently made one with the chaotic discord of Hell’s fiery landscape.   Yet even this interplanar spectacle could not fell the dreaded leader of the now fallen Sentinels. Rather--seeing the flagrant insolence in which the abominable spawn treated with their once-home, as they perverted the scenic lands and architectural masterpieces, merely invoked an even greater enmity. Such vehement antipathy gave the survivor an unquenchable desire to bleed the entirety of Hell dry--to see rightful judgement brought to the villainous scum and their vile ilk for what they did. And satiate this thirst they did, again and again without end.  Leaving naught but carnage in their wake and bringing total butchery to the foul anathemas, the survivor of the Night Sentinels carved an appalling renown among the hellish hoards. They came to refer to this force of unbridled slaughter by countless names: The Hellwalker, the Unchained Predator, the Scourge of Hell, and the Doom Slayer are but a few.  But this tale has been spun numerous times before, anyone that’s someone knows of the Doom Slayer’s one-man war against the forces of Hell and all who would try to exploit it. Not many, however, know of the countless times this force of nature followed the bloody mire’s natives through tears in the fabric of reality to squash any and all of Hell’s plans to invade and assimilate even more dimensions.  These are the tales I wish to weave for your virgin ears. So gather around and listen closely to the Hellwalker’s bloody escapades.

The crimson ether’s stagnant, torrid and muggy climate bore down on the haphazard hellscape as Hell’s ambient chorus screeched its discordant melody. Suffering interwove with excruciating agony to form the harmonious resonance of the damned, as the profuse pungency of brimstone, molten rock, voided bowels, gore and creeks of partially congealed blood neatly tied up the scenery. It was an everyday experience the Doom Slayer had long-since grown accustomed to.  Unlike most days, however, he had the commodity of constant movement to help overlook the footling sultriness. But such expeditious locomotion was stripped from him, as this was among the seldom instances when he voluntarily ceased the progress of his unremitting warpath--among the few moments where the constant bloodshed and utter extermination of all things demonic ground to a halt. Despite the anxious itch that afflicted him during this self-instated suspension of hostilities, the Doom Slayer wouldn’t cause even an iota of disturbance among the unholy populace. For he would remain in the lackluster and utmost bare bone encampment set up in one of the many alcoves littering the cliff faces of the Krueger Bluffs, a series of cliffs that bordered the Burnt Basin--a deep bowl of jagged obsidian glass that held a lake of boiling blood and dots of land poking above the vivid scarlet here and there like flaky fingertips. What brought the Scourge of Hell to this damnable basin resided at the very center of the bloody lake: a platform and grand altar constructed of flesh and bone erected atop the largest island found jutting above the opaque depths.  Amassed atop the wicked structure was an unholy legion of Hell’s crooked denizens: clouds of meandering Lost Souls, Imps, Prowlers, Hell Knights, Cacodaemons, Mancubi, Hellrazers, countless caged Pinkies, clouds of meandering Specters, and Summoners, all of which undoubtedly served the lone Baron of Hell residing among the riffraff. This sinful and abhorrent aberration lounged on a miniature throne, fashioned from innumerable skeletons, whilst examining that which laid before him. Seeing the macabre adornment that displayed its lofty position in the anarchic hierarchy of Hell decorate its sacrilegious form invoked a rage the Doom Slayer struggled to bridle. But he managed to do so, as allowing the white-hot wrath that kept his body moving to the rhythmic beat of murder would render the lengths he went to to get here for naught.  Having lost his sense of time long ago, the Doom Slayer could not recall exactly how long it took for him to arrive at his current location. Nor could he remember just how much time passed for the insidious structures to be constructed and the equally nefarious entities to congregate on top of it. All he could say for certain was that it had been quite the lapse of inactivity on his part. It proved worthy of such a lack of action, however, when the profane Archviles--creatures that served the role of Hell’s ungodly priests--finally, finally made their advent.

Huddled around the blasphemous altar, painted with a spattering of gruesome offerings, the Archviles performed dark constant dark and impious rituals. They had begun such irreligious activities quite some time ago, and none of them gave an inkling of ceasing. With a disgusted sneer, the Hellwalker tore his gaze away from their profane presence and turned it to the root from which all this stemmed. A fracture, a tear--a literal rift in the fabric of space-time made visible.  The plane of existence commonly associated with the descriptions of the land of sin was a literal hub for interdimensional disturbances. It did not happen exceedingly frequently, as such things tended to crop up whenever another plane prods the barrier, but when it did anomalies like the one the demons were crowded around popped up. Normally imperceptible to the naked eye, Hell’s natural energy--combined with Argent energy--provided such phenomena with the medium to manifest as fractures in the air, on the ground, or wherever they might crop up. When this occurred, the possibility of manipulating and expanding said rift to force a gateway connecting to whatever existence decided to stick its nose where it didn’t belong opened up. And on account of Hell’s prior history with such things, the denizens were more than happy to violate the borders set between its dimension and the rest.  Suffice to say, the Hellwalker didn’t take to the prospect as fondly as the demons did. Subsequently, whenever he caught wind of a rift’s appearance, there wasn’t a thing in all the planes that could prevent him from plugging it up. But until the abominable priests successfully forced open the passage, he could do naught but bide his time. For the only method of permanently patching up such a tear in reality required for the portal to be created first, or else the rift could simply be exploited again and again until the gate was finally opened. So, despite how it irked him, the Doom Slayer could do naught but wait for their sacrilegious rites to be completed.  But even the Unchained Predator’s patience had its limits, and such a limit was put to the test countless times as body after body of the Unwilling were dragged to the bloody altar. A good thirty bodies were brought and scattered about the profane protrusion like worthless rubbish. Each served as nothing more than a sacrifice to feed whatever demonic powers were at work. Then, after the next fifteen, something finally occurred.  Following the forty-fifth sacrifice, after the lifeless carcass joined its fellows, the already putrefying flesh began to meld together. It was akin to seeing a watered-down gelatinous mass getting manhandled, forced into merging with countless other like substances as each was malformed and twisted. Virtually reduced to mere pale white crimson playdough, the meat tore itself from the gaunt creatures’ skeletons before inching up the stony item of satanic worship. Eventually coalescing into a single mass of sinew, muscle, and visceral gore--a formless blob of meat and skin and hair and bursting blemishes under the control of the hellish priests. With a flick of the wrists, the damnable Archviles commanded the ichor to drain from the disgusting mass--leaving it dry--to form a great pentagram around them and their altar. Then the blood coagulated, before adopting an incandescent scarlet hue that soon outlined the profane clergyman, too. While glowing, their bodies fell limp and hung in the air like a slab of meat pierced by a gruesome hook. After a lapse of inactivity, their forms seized and contracted spasmodically--each unnatural spasm and bone-breaking contortion heralded the portal’s advent. The Baron of Hell leaned forward on his throne, interest piqued.   It took little time for the blob of gore to react to the Hell priest's seizures: twitching and undulating in sync with its unholy masters. Before, finally, it began to squeeze and contract all of its stolen mass directly underneath the rift. More boils and pustules popped and sprayed their sick fluid about the grey stone as the sinew and organs began to wrap around each other, developing a sort of frame around the rip. Then the rest of the pale flesh proceeded to sheath the frame, filling in the gaps and occasionally forming a hook that dug into the very rift itself. And once the organic machination became whole, the various hooks digging into the disturbed space began trembling ever so softly. Then the priests' bodies splayed out like languid Starfish, vehemently undulating as the entire manifestation of gore began to pull in all directions. Gouts of blood and other fluids spewed forth from the meaty contraption as it began to develop splits and tears here and there, but it continued to pull and tug on the margins of the rift. A ghastly screech emanated from the disturbance as if someone was peeling layers of metal away with their bare hands and only grew louder and louder with each passing second. Vivid red arcs of jagged energy streaked out from the widening rift, as the horrific squealing transcended into a malign chorus of dissent crying out against their foolish efforts to defy the sacred barrier between dimensions.  These irregular bolts of red death raced up along the stony platform, leaving naught in its wake, and finding their way onto the occasional unlucky demon--each unfortunate individual turned pitch black as their flesh was charred, before exploding into a cloud of scarlet mist. Suffice to say, all but the greater demonic entities frantically danced to avoid meeting an untimely, grisly end. Among such creatures was the Baron of Hell, who, in his boredom, plucked an unwitting Lost Soul out from the air and gingerly crushing it between his fingers. Then he regarded the priests, barked something, and curtly interrupted whatever superfluous, ceremonial niceties drawing out the profane rite. This did little to accelerate the process, however.  The visceral manifestation of unholy energy continued to strain the fissure, pulling it apart in every direction. A trembling distortion beset the very space about the sluggishly expanding opening as scrapes of foreign benign darkness began trickling through. And with one final convulsion of both the priests and the shaped viscera, like that, it was done. Splitting at the seams, effectively destroying itself, the macabre amalgamation of gore wholly tore the rift asunder into a wide gaping maw that peaked out into a black haze unfamiliar to the constant red tinted light illuminating the entirety of Hell. It was a veil of shadows unlike those native to Hell. They lacked the insidious animation, that skin-crawling fluidity akin to the dark depths of an abyssal trench. And the stark malign nature found in the hellish place’s seldom patches of shadows was absent. Unless the dimension beyond the opening was caught in a perpetual state of darkness, then it was probably nighttime. Barely visible dots of white flittered through the insidious wound, unsuspecting, before dissipating when exposed to the blistering heat of the profane plane. Snowflakes? Was the breach in existence exposing a plane currently under the effects of winter? When was the last time the gentle hue of snow and the joy of the ever-changing seasons greeted the warrior’s hardened eyes? He could not wholly recall. Or perhaps it was merely innate particles of the tear itself.  Once ajar, the Doom Slayer watched as the decorated Baron heaved his hulking form off the morbid throne and approached the portal. This opening towered over even him and stretched out wide enough to fit three of him with arms outstretched. He then turned around, slowly, to face the onlooking legion. Without warning, the hellish denizen rose a balled fist up into the air before bellowing out something--the Hellwalker’s distance kept the words from reaching his acute hearing. Then the demonic hoard joined their master’s bellowing cry, throwing their clawed fists above their head, before blindly charging through the opening. And their leader made to join their zealous stampede, but stopped and threw a look over his shoulder before passing the threshold. For a moment, the Baron’s paranoid eyes gazed in the direction of the Doom Slayer and, in turn, the last bastion glared back. But whether the demon managed to see anything or naught was never made clear, as he returned his attention to the task at hand and crossed the barrier.  And as droves of the damned filed through the gap, the Unchained Predator began moving to give chase.

The Scourge of Hell approached the perilous edge of the cavernous opening’s maw, hands tightly balled up and quavering with anger. His eyes never once broke line of sight with the artificial Hellmouth, the abhorrence burning like thriving embers in a roaring bonfire. One hateful thought prevailed above the haze in his mind like a festering wound: “These sacrilegious heathens shall suffer tenfold more for daring to defile the very soil of another dimension.”  At this point, the Doom Slayer could no longer differentiate between the causes of his vehement rage. Everything simply blurred together into one malformed haze of disdain and negative emotions, poisoning his hardened heart and nipping at the ends of his frayed soul. But this toxic infection, brought on by the abominable denizens of Hell, could never diminish the clarity of the morals and beliefs he lived his life by--before and after the fall of his home plane. No amount of taint from this hellish landscape could rob him of who he was and where he originated. In this regard, he believed with smug satisfaction, the endless droves of the nightmarish legions failed to accomplish what they set out to do. And he’d be damned twice over before he let the foul demons a second chance at achieving what they couldn’t with the lives of Argent D’nur.  A brief flash streaked its way across his consciousness, breaking the monotonous muddle of hostility and abhorrence. Images of lush greenery and breath-taking scenery interspersed with snippets of long-forgotten faces and voices. Something benign and forlorn tugged at the dulled harpsichord strings of his stony heart, for a fleeting moment it felt as if the weight of losing his home in its entirety finally began to press down upon him. But then he shrugged it off, returning to the task at hand as the old haze set back in.  For a moment, the Hellwalker beheld the machination magnetically appended to his person at the hip. The familiar sight of bluish-gray metal greeted his eyes, as well as the strobing lights emanating from the few buttons found on its handle. He carefully plucked the device from his side and brought it up to hold out in front of his chest, scrutiny divided between the interplanar rift and this tool.  It was an ambiguous shape too fickle to decide on whether it preferred looking straight and sleek or resembling the curved angularity of a dog’s hind leg. Thin crossbars curved from either end of the handle, curving and weaving together to form a bubble about the entire thing, leaving an opening on one side to permit one’s hand to slip through and grip the main device, as well as a slit towards the very top end of the thing. In the complex intertwined strips of metal resided a vague symbol: twin swords spearing a heart with an abhorrent and yet sagely benevolent monster’s deadpan visage--only the Doom Slayer knew its meaning. And a constant hum exuded throughout the metal, causing an endless vibration to reverberate the material. This device served as his weapon, the instrument of his wrath--the last remnants of technological fruit his reality bore, a dreaded Argent long-blade.  Tightly he gripped the machination, kneading one of the buttons with his thumb, before returning his stalwart gaze to the planar anomaly. With Argent long-blade clutched in hand, he approached the maw’s edge. The intense scrutiny he cast out examined the dwindling legion, finding that some of the demonic hellions were staying back to act as the Hellmouth's sentries. Good, he thought, then I shall have an interlude to wet my appetite before the main event. His feet now tittered on the edge of the precipice. There wasn’t a qualm to break the bloodlust beginning to cloud his heart and mind--the foul denizens of this place of brimstone and fire would know the fury of the Night Sentinels. Then, without so much as a second thought, the Doom Slayer took a single stride over the rocky opening’s periphery and shouldered his fate off to the laws of physics.  Akin to a javelin lancing towards its target, the Hellwalker careened through the sweltering ether. The screeching wind tore about his helmet like a bat out of hell, whipping about his bulky metal clad form like a storm, as the ground rushed up to meet him. But he never once took his eyes off of the bleeding wound, a grim sight that invoked memories he did not particularly desire to recall. Flashes and glimpses of a bygone time in a forlorn place lost to the annals of time. Each of which merely served as a reminder of why such a passionate anger continued to bathe his soul with white-hot abhorrence.  Bastions were left to guard the Hellmouth and the Archvile priests, keeping a vigilant watch over the profane icons as they carried out their sacrilegious rite. The Doom Slayer could only chuckle inwardly at the demons’ piteous attempt to maintain control, and he wondered just when they would learn the inexorable fate that befell all of their endeavors. But if they desired to walk towards the inevitability of death rather than run and prolong it, then by no means should he deny them their longing for such sublime release.  The ground below was nearly upon him, not but tens of yards separated his feet from the craggy lip that marked where the cliff faces merged with the curve of the bowl. A fleeting pang of pain pinched at the sides of his temple; an immediate stream of consciousness warned him of the proximity of the rocks below, briefly touching upon its lethality before advising him to shift the suit’s usage of its Argent energy cells’ power into the three-dimensional pressure compensation system. He complied mechanically, said instantaneous thought traversing the neural link to give the order to his armor directly. In but a fraction of a second, the energy usage of his suit’s various systems diminished as it bolstered the aforementioned pressure compensation.  A smoldering orange-crimson hue began emanating from the metallic material, highlighting his intimidating form in a frightening glow. Simultaneously, a low hum resonated from the worn metal. The cracked bloody stone below reached out to grip the last bastion with its craggy fingers, vehemently grounding the once airborne individual like a fallen airplane. A thunderous crack then reverberated throughout the dried-up basin, as the hum and glow abruptly waned until naught remained but a dull ghost of what they once were and the stone underfoot fractured. He regarded the information provided by his HUD to find his suit’s Argent Cells’ reduced to twenty-three percent--just enough to maintain the core systems as well as the combat systems. Seldom times like these brought a wicked smile to his masked face. Luck seemed determined to keep favoring the Doom Slayer, and that was quite alright in his mind.  In the distance, the Hellwalker spotted the demonic sentinels begin to divide themselves into two groups. One group expeditiously hurried to meet him head-on, an asinine attempt to cut his assault short. And the other seemed dead set on entrenching themselves about their profane priests. This saddened him, in a way, as they wouldn’t know the joy of dying together--as brothers-in-arms--but he doubted demons had such a capacity for sentimentality.  Gripping the hilt of his weapon tighter, the Doom Slayer glanced down the lip for but a second before striding forward and beginning his descent down into the Burnt Basin. Today seemed a fine day to add to the already profuse levels of blood in the lake of ichor.

The descent had been short and quick, and yet by the time the Doom Slayer’s feet made contact with the crimson sludge, breaking the thin surface skin of coagulation, the oncoming horde of hellions was already upon him. Perhaps, he thought, the intelligence of the Imps and Hell Knights have grown since I last did battle with them? There was merit in this line of thought, for the level of the bloody lake--it came up to his waist--impeded his movement. But in all likelihood, they probably hadn’t an inkling as to the fact such a sludgy substance would hinder him. He never attributed mental prowess to the lower echelons of hellish denizens.  Several condensed orbs of crackling fire careened through the vile either, trailing behind it wispy tails of fiery crimson energy, and aimed to strike him in the chest. But with a flick of his wrist and a press of a button, he swatted them out of the air and sent them plunging into the blood. The humming intensified in but an instant as a brilliant light stretched out from the device’s opening. It took the shape of a longsword’s blade, except there wasn’t a lick of flowery detail to admire. It was of a simple triangular design that extended out for several feet before tapering to a point. And other than the appearance of constant fluidity in the blinding Argent energy it was comprised of, as well as the hilt, there was nothing overtly impressive about it.  Crying out in protest, the imps responsible for the projectiles beat the ground with clenched fists before reaching back and charging up yet another volley. Meanwhile, the more courageous of the lowly demons charged in with their Hell Knight brothers--the latter spearheading it. In response to their eagerness to perish, the Doom Slayer tightened his grip on the device until his knuckles turned white and began striding through the ichor to meet them head-on. Of course, even with hampered movement, he could still move at an equal pace with them.  One of the Knights, whilst running, leaned forward and launched itself into the air, showering half congealed blood everywhere. As it sailed, familiar tails of wispy energy trailed behind not only its body but its hands as well, specifically the one it kept raised above its spherical head. Due to its sheer mass and the strength behind its initial jump, the Hell Knight came careening towards the Hellwalker incredulously fast. But the ease with which one could predict the end of the demon’s trajectory always proved to be the attack’s fatal flaw.  He leaped forward, tucking and rolling, and avoided all but the resulting impact’s spray of blood. Then he swiveled about with a sweep of his hand before hewing into the monster’s back, feeling meager resistance as the blade of energy glided through muscle and bone like tissue paper. It managed to bury half of the blade’s length into the soft flesh.  A satisfyingly agonized wail met his ears until the discordant screeches of its fellow daemons rose above it, one of which, an imp, drew nigh to melee range. The Doom Slayer grinned wickedly.  Jerking his free hand forward, he dug into the gaping maw splitting the Hell Knight’s grey skin until fingers met bone--screams of anguish responded. The Imp continued its approach. Then he clawed through muscle and sinew until he found purchase on the item he sought. The Imp got within range. With a wide smile, he yanked back on the bony protrusion he vehemently clutched before an explosion of blood and loose bits of crimson flesh and tiny white fragments to some macabre jigsaw puzzle decorated the front of his armor like a serial killer’s arts and crafts project. Snapping bone and rending meat graced his ears as the lengthy cord connecting the Knight’s mind with the rest of its body pulled free from its fleshy case with a sickening sucking of air sound., inch by inch until the entirety of the bony rope--even the bulbous head!--was freed.  Then, in a single fluent motion, the last bastion swung the grisly mace, talk about disembodied, up and over his head like a pendulum, before bringing it back down and cracked the ghoulish toy into the head of the oncoming Imp. The two met with a flourish of split flesh, shattered bone fragments, and a mixture of grey and scarlet ichor. He released his hold of the now broken weapon and watched the now spineless corpse of the Hell Knight topple over in unison with its brained comrade--they made quite an unorthodox piece of modern art.  While caught in the admiration of his handiwork, one of the few other Knights lunged forward, bringing its foot into the Scourge’s side and sending him careening several feet back. But the damned champion refused to fall prone, vehemently digging into the clay-like ground beneath the bloody lake and scraping along the lake bed until coming to a full stop, sending crimson wakes rippling across the otherwise stagnant surface. He held his head up high, screwing both eyes up into a baleful leer pointed towards the heathen. It roared in protest of the audacious scrutiny before unceremoniously dropping to all fours and leaping forward once more, clawed digits outstretched and aimed for his heart. The Imps and three other Hell Knights rushed to join the fray, three of the eight imps close enough to circle around and lunge for his flanks. And not but several feet behind them and closing in, fast, was yet another fiery volley. It seemed as though they were perturbed over something, and with the cruelest of smirks, the Doom Slayer wondered what he could have possibly done to anger them.  He flicked his wrist, flourishing the blade, before brandishing its wicked length. Oh, how he enjoyed these moments.

Pitched combat, even in its basest forms, is an unequivocal art-form of the utmost caliber. In this respect, it is anything but an exaggeration to describe a battlefield as a painting--a masterpiece composed with hues of red and black and silver and white and grey and azure and a rapturously macabre somber atmosphere. Every inch of land could become a palpable canvas at a moment’s notice, and it never shied away from depicting disturbing themes and controversial subjects. But seldom do even the artists responsible for each rendition possess the stuff required to control the flow.  Most believe the only true masters of this described flow of bloodshed are the commanders, the officers, those in charge of the warriors doing the bloodletting. This sometimes proves true, however, it does not dictate who can and who cannot direct the painting. Truly, polished medals and high-ranks do naught to appease the lofty standards of this sultry mistress known as combat. She is a cruel and covetously demanding dame of the utmost perfection, in a morbid way, that will rip a father away from his newborn babe just as thoughtlessly guide a naive child to safety through the clash of fire. As such, only the warriors with the utmost grit and audacity can force this salacious seductress to bend the knee and obey like a submissive bitch.  Among these scant individuals, the Doom Slayer ranked among the greatest. This icon of righteous vengeance never stopped, not even for a second, until fear and terror became synonyms for the psyches of his enemies. He never ceased the bloodletting until the gallons of crimson could fill an ocean. And there was never a moment in recent years that he refrained from splitting flesh and tearing limbs, never once held his punches, and always sent heads rolling. Which is why he garnered the utmost respect and obedience from the scarlet-cloaked mistress.  And this submissive confidante was particularly pleased with how this addition to the Hellwalker’s collection seemed to be panning out.  With a deft twist of the hand, the Doom Slayer brought up the humming blade to ricochet several of the volleyed smoldering shots. He could not deflect all of them, though, but the searing anguish that singed each point of impact simply fueled his bloodlust. These few returned phosphorous-like orbs zipped through the air, careening into the sunken sternums of the imps closest to him and boring and preemptively cauterizing a hole that left the profane denizen's chest cavity utterly exposed. They crumpled out of sight, bodies dropping below the ichor before their still breathing brethren could do so much as blink in disbelief. But the vehement choler that pierced their outraged screeches and guttural roars provided everything the Slayer could have wanted and more. These remaining Imps impulsively leapt forward, two on either of his flanks, with claws outstretched and wicked dagger-like teeth bared. A whitish red foam trailed from the corners of their craggy lips as the hellish plane's natural luminescence reflected off the bloody water's surface and brought out a malevolent sparkle in their eyes. Eyes, windows to the soul, were so full of vim and vigor. If you could not discern the level of life and resolve a man had through the manner in which he carried himself, then one need look no further than the eyes. And, oh, how the Doom Slayer longed to watch every last scrap of the light drain from those damned infernal windows. In said fleeting moments, he knew the sick delight such a sight brought him would make him forget the horrors of years, decades, whole centuries past.  Firmly stamping one foot through the thick and partially coagulated ick, he launched himself up and above the blood just in time to use one of the lunging demons' heads as a makeshift foothold. He felt the others' claws find purchase on his legs but otherwise paid it no mind. The searing pain that resulted from their sharp digits digging through the armor and biting into flesh only goaded him to keep going. He forced the fiend's head down as the muscles in his leg extended, the other's coiling in the fleeting moment it left the muddy ground below the bloody liquid. Then, as the Imp began flowing through the motions of falling flat on its face, the Doom Slayer brought his opposite leg up to plant his foot onto the knotty small of its back before using the inclining springboard to propel himself several meters up in the air; the profane denizen subject to the bastion's nigh indomitable strength vehemently lodged into the soggy soil below. A resulting shower of dazzling sparks sprayed out from where the Imps' claws were effectively ripped out from the suit, leaving decent piercings all along the lower torso.  Once up in the air, he used the momentum to pivot around and directed the hilt of his blade down at the cluster of demons. The glowing crimson hue dimmed until the Argent Energy no longer extended from the handle's mouth. Then, with a twitch of the finger, a nearly inaudible click heralded a shift in the weapon he brandished. Its flowery cross-guard receded and stowed themselves away in micro-compartments hidden along the handle, and once exposed the entire item began to change. At first, it split itself in half, horizontally, with a seam along the pristine metal, and then another seam vertically divided the shaft in an incredulously lopsided manner. Several jets of heat-saturated air spewed from the vertical crease, heralding a sudden split along the aforementioned line. While the back half remained unaffected, the two larger halves extended forward until they formed a perfect sixty-degree angle. Then the upper halves of the back tilted back before extending and fitting into sockets that were once hidden within the make of the armor’s wristguards.  The open slit that permitted the blade portion to protrude shifted, moving from the top to the middle of the side and then producing several spindly appendages that sluggishly rotated around the mouth. Each resembling the spinners used in tandem with a spider's silk gland. When it was all said and done, it bore an uncanny semblance to a crustacean's claw.  From the opening emanated a distinct crimson fiery glow, of which expanded and expanded until the spinners pierced the expanding orb and began to manipulate its shape, bending and stretching the energy into a plethora of different three-dimensional objects, squares and stars to name a few, until the emanation resembled a tangled spiderweb. Once its final dimensions were determined, the orifice it secreted from emitted an intangible force which compelled the intricate webbing of Argent to propel countless small pellets from the accumulated mass.  The droves of smoldering crimson pellets cleaved through the air, leaving a visible trail where the ether was pushed aside for a moment before they collapsed in on themselves. They peppered the rippling liquid of the bloody lake, impacting and detonating against both the disturbed surface and the fiendish Imps. Each projectile tore through the muscle and flesh of the demons like tissue paper, shed their boiling alien ichor like tens of water balloons with each audible pop, blew holes into the already perturbed bloody liquid, and melted their barbed bones like molasses in a microwave. One of the abhorrent things lost more than half of its mass from the merciless onslaught; another had its head blown off, inch by inch, into a spray of red mist before the section connecting the lower and upper halves of its torso was literally carved away; and yet another had the meat from its hips up to its collarbone melted away until it was down to the freshest layer of the body--the stark, gore-strewn bone of the spine and rib cage.  When the red hail ceased to fall, the little that remained of the Imps collapsed into and disappeared beneath the darkening surface of the lake. And the Doom Slayer continued carrying through the air towards the remnants of the entities that meant to intercept and deal with their kind’s ultimate nemesis.

Heavy boots clomped against the crimson rock of the hellish blood lake’s center island, laden with the bodily fluids and visceral remains of the fallen. Liquid lapping at the edges of the protruding slab of slick rock was drowned out by the profane whispers of the parted portal. The Doom Slayer’s vigilant gaze was steadfast, wholly locked upon the grisly sight of the altar and its damnable congregation of priests. Yet these gaunt, hovering and cloaked creatures failed to acknowledge his advent. So entranced by the task at hand were they--not even the disappearance of their guardians reached their apprehension.   Sauntering up to the circle of Archviles, his hand tightened its grip upon the hilt of his blade. Memories surfaced for but a moment before he forced them back down. This was no place to recall such things.  Pacing around them for a moment, the Slayer stopped behind the apparent leader of the assembly. This one’s back faced the portal it and its cabal tore asunder. He glanced back and examined the rift for a moment, fruitlessly trying to peer through the pitch black atmosphere which laid beyond. Then his gaze returned to the priests and their fiendish rite. Once again he felt his grip coil ever tighter upon his instrument of death, but he stayed his rage--now wasn’t the time to enact justice upon the wicked. Not until he dealt with the incursion beyond, that is. Otherwise, the world beyond would be left to deal with the droves of demons on its own.  He approached the altar with a slow, meticulous gait as the hilt he held shifted to its projectile mode. The many spindles of the device, from a ball of Argent energy, wove a vast and intricate scarlet web. Upon completion, the Slayer stuck this pulsing web of condensed Argent onto the center of the sacrilegious tabernacle, allowing it to idly draw from the profane energy the Archviles focused into maintaining the portal. Then he turned and marched off, towards the dimensional gateway.  Striding through the rift, the Doom Slayer felt something he’d forgotten countless millennia ago--coldness. The air of the foreign dimension suffused his heated armor with its frigid touch, icy fingers wriggling their way through the cracks and gaps of the material and brushing against his irritated skin. And the ubiquitous illumination which lit up the whole of Hell stayed back at the border between its own plane of existence and the other. Now only the light of the pale moon overhead cut through the mundane dark of night.  Looking around, he found himself standing at the back of the partially dispersed legion of demons which charged through the spatial opening. Said gate seemed to have parted and led into the center of the ruined and dilapidated remains of a city intersection. It reeked of sulfur and putrid body odor. The cacophony of the fiends’ discord shattered the serene silence, their abhorrent cries and devil tongue insulting his ears with their mere presence. And this horde of fiends, headed by the tower of muscle that was their decorated lord, congregated around an area like the onlooking audience of an arena stadium.  The demons shouted and cried out in their broken tongue, vile words composed of even viler sounds. An undercurrent of echoing pops and thunderous cracks intermingled with the occasional clash and clatter of metal was present. He picked out few words amid the chaos, the profane tongue of the damned still alien to his ears. “Death!”, “Weaklings!”, “Soft-flesh!” and “Hatchlings!” were but a few. And rising from the fiends’ discourse were the voices of unseen individuals, their high-pitch indicating youth and possible femininity from all but one, and they shouted to one another in yet another language he could not understand. Every so often--a pained cry emitted from one of the several voices.  Memories forced their way to the surface in a violent fury.  The young and the infantile cried out.  Whimpering children met his ears.  An unbridled rage was set free.

The Slayer lunged at the first unfortunate daemon to fall under his red scrutiny, and with the rippling strength of a thousand men, he plunged either hand deep into the flabby folds of flesh that made up its back. His sword clattered to the cement underfoot. The mancubus’ glutinous jaw parted to unveil its gratuitous rows of yellowed, crooked teeth before loosing a thick guttural roar in agony. So shrill was the pain, its crescendo rose above the voices of its peers and garnered the attention of all but their repugnant lord. All combat ceased as the once combatants turned and watched the Slayer’s vehement display unfold.  Only the sounds of the past reached his ears, though, and the writhing fiend’s insufferable screeching did nothing to ease the burden pressing down upon the interior of his skill. He bellowed an enraged sound which drowned out even the mancubus, one that chilled the blackened souls of any demon who was unlucky enough to hear it, before digging the tip of his right boot onto the small of his victim’s back and jerking himself up onto its fat shoulders.  It’s one bulbous eye flicked up to gawk in horror.  He dug his armored digits into the abomination’s meaty neck and yanked back, ripping the weighty head off its shoulders in a messy display of tearing tendons and stretching strips of fatty flesh, like plucking an egg from the nest. Its spine followed after. Jets of crimson ichor spewed forth like a fountain, the rupturing of skin and bone grotesque in its resounding audibility. Then its cries were silenced forever more. And yet the eye still stared, blinking once. Its tongue lolled out of its disgusting maw and hung limp to the side. The body staggered a single step forward, naught more than a dead twitch, before falling to its wrinkled flabby knees and collapsing to the ground.  The fiendish audience was left speechless, too shell-shocked for words.  Using the spine as a grip, the last bastion reared back and lobbed the freed head across the vast distance to the center of the horde. It slammed against the back of the aberration’s muscled neck with a wet smack--caving in and exploding like a bloody water balloon upon impact.  Body tensing and standing at attention, the wicked lord raised his head and threw a glance behind. The glowing red embers that were its eyes fell upon the visage hell priests carved into the rock as a warning to all. A warning the lord never treated with even a modicum of seriousness. Its angular brow inched up, a furry caterpillar resting above its eyes, as a smirk spread across its vile lips. Jagged yellowed daggers lined up against one another as several rows in its mouth. An amused mien sat heavy on its cocksure countenance. The demon about-faced and extended its left arm and hand, gesturing to the Slayer.  “Unchained Predator,” it greeted in its hissing, haughty tone. “It’s fortunate you’ve come--for me, not so much for you.”  The horrid thing had an incessant habit of chewing on nothing, affecting its hoarse and gravelly voice in an odd manner. Almost like it always spoke while eating.  A throaty laugh curled past its pierced, craggy lips. “I had planned to beget the favor of my lord by subjugating this insignificant plane, but with you here, why--there’s no end to the praise I shall receive!” Its arms spread out in a grand gesticulation. “I shall ascend above this demeaning station I have been cast into!” It gazed up at the ever-reaching black sky and spun around in a circle, inch by inch. “And then I shall receive all that I rightly deserve! All shall bend the knee to me! I, Tapnuilohr, Slayer of the Hellwalker, shall be feared! I shall become a Lord of Sin!!”  The Slayer reached down and plucked a chunk of rubble off the debris-strewn ground.  “And it all starts--” it faced the man anew “with your dea-”  Rage pulled the Slayer’s arm back, clutching the debris, and then drove him to yank the same arm forward. The ruined concrete surged out of his hand, whistling through the dark ether faster than the eye could track. Once thrown, Tapnuilohr’s speech was cut abrupt when the improvised projectile ran through one of its beady black eyes. The quasi-lord’s hand shot up to cover the now scarlet leaking mess of black jelly which struggled to remain in its small concave bowl. It growled and bellowed in anguish, akin to the grinding of rocks, as the force behind the debris sent it backpedaling several steps. Each thunderous thud of its cloven feet punctuating the ephemeral pauses for breath between each pained roar. Once it composed itself, though, the fiend threw a furious one-eyed leer at the expressionless slate of the Slayer’s helm.  “Impudent whelp, you heap of filth!” It rose the hand not covering its mashed eye and jabbed a clawed digit in his direction. “End him!!”  And while the terror the Unchained Predator’s presence, alone, invoked--the fear of disobeying their lord, as well as the courage imparted through their immense numbers, overrode any and all reluctance in their sinful little minds.  When the ire of the horde shifted from the youths, who had yet to make themselves known, everything save for the oncoming daemons faded away. The lightless ether burned a fiery crimson, singeing the edges of the bastion’s vision with the muddled shadows of the past. Chaotic and boisterous, the resounding discord of the damned intermingled with the echoes of lives and people long since returned to dust that nipped at his perception. Boiling blood coursed through his veins. Either hand clenched and squeezed until his knuckles were white. Wispy lines of dark red trailed up out from the gaps and seams of his helm and its faceplate, and a thick shadow descended upon him, darkening and blurring the features of his armor like a shroud. A nigh-tangible miasma of wrath and ruin permeated from his very presence. And then a fleeting moment of lucidity washed over him, allowing a familiar voice to cut through the blistering rage.  <Rip and tear, until it is done.>  Then his blinding anger returned, more vehement than before.

Leaping through the air, a Hell Knight held its meaty fist above its head as Argent accumulated around it in a wreath of green flame. It was exceptionally foolhardy.  The Slayer reared back and threw his fist forward. It connected with the abominable knight’s in a vehement crack of spasmodic resistance. Then the condensed Argent dispersed across his bracers, charring the metal. Bodily fluids sprayed out from rupturing veins and tearing flesh, bone splintered and peeled back like a banana peel as momentum carried the fiend’s outstretched limb through the immovable pillar of rock that was the man’s fist. It was like several layers of rolled up tissue paper being thrust against the razor edges of two crisscrossed blades. And once the creature’s arm had been peeled open up to its shoulder, a profuse explosion of ichor painted the surroundings.  It landed with a heavy thud, fell to one knee and clawed at the gaping stump of its arm. The metallic sting of blood weaved its way into his nostrils. An agonized bellow crawled up its throat. Not one to miss a beat, the Slayer pivoted. He drove the knife-edge of his heel into the small of the fiend’s back. The crack of bone resounded as the abomination now bent at an unnatural angle. It fell over dead.  Several shrill voices screamed from all around. He turned and swung the same bloodied battering ram. Its wide arch caught the closest of his new assailants. Red and green and grey fluids sprayed out from the once-head of the Imp. The gore splattered across a small mound of debris.  The hammering of his heart roared in his ears, challenging the cries of the horde for supremacy.  A paltry weight slammed into his back. He could feel the tearing of flesh between his shoulder blades and along his right shoulder. The infernal mass latched onto him, sinewy legs wrapped around his waist. It slashed and scratched at the metal and the flesh it protected.  Before he could reach up and take hold of the pathetic thing’s head, the squealing of a third demon drew nigh. Still spinning with the momentum of his prior swing, he’d come face to face with the pink bull so many fiends considered a delicacy.  The Pinky rushed him, its great tusked maw ajar, and plowed head-first into his solar plexus. It was like bashing your head into a pillar of solid iron. A grunt forced its way past his clenched jaw. His breathing had been disturbed following the collision, and he fought to retain whatever air he had in his lungs at the time. Strength drained from the muscles in his legs, giving up several inches of ground to the demon’s brazen charge. Pain bloomed from his shoulders and back.  He steeled himself and dragged air down into his lungs, the sound reminiscent of a throaty croak. Then he dug the heels of his boots into the fractured asphalt. One of the Imp’s hands slapped and grabbed onto the visor of his helmet. He thrashed his head back and forth. An ear-splitting cacophony rose up from the conflicting forces. Bits and pieces of black rock sputtered out from where the metal broke through, vivid sparks cascading from the points of contact. Their movement ground to a halt.  The Slayer shot his curled fist up and brained the piggy-backing Imp. A carousel of stars spun before its eyes. He then pounded the same hand against the Pinky’s forehead once, twice, and thrice. Its skull caved in with a wet sucking sound. Either of its luminous scarlet eyes bugged out, eyelids going slack. A thick pink mass lolled out of its mouth. But it wasn’t enough.  Seizing its two lower tusks, he sucked down another breath of air as he began straining his forearms in opposite directions. The splitting of flesh and whining of the sow met the Slayer’s ears. Pinkish blood spurted out from the waxing fissure dividing the Pinky’s head down the middle. Its whining crescendos, replaced with frantic squealing and gurgling. Bone strained and cracked until finally giving way and breaking in two. Then muscle and sinew and ligaments followed right after. Finally, the seam wrenched ajar like a banana peel--shattering a jar of pinkish red ink and splashing its contents everywhere.  Its once whole tongue was hewn in twain, swaying this way and that as ichor trickled down the tips like leaky faucets. What minuscule grey matter its skull guarded now dangled by its stem. The Pinky’s body fell limp and crumpled into a puddle of its own blood.  With his hands freed, the Slayer jerked his shoulders back. The spasmodic motion loosened the sure grip of the rider. He reached back and took hold of the aberration’s collar, digging each finger into the skin and around the bone. A single yank of his arm ripped the Imp off his back. The anguish of its claws being torn out stung him like insect bites.  The scrawny creature flipped up and over his head. He threw his first up and clasped the side of its hip. It lurched to a stop above the Slayer’s head. An immediate jerk of his arms wrenched the body down. Taking a knee, he smashed the center of the Imp’s back against the edge of his thigh. A crack heralded the shattering of its spine. Its body twitched and convulsed several times before the tension dribbled out of every muscle. Then he shunted the limp weight away.  Standing up with a roll of the shoulders, the Slayer flexed either arm and clenched his fingers. The muscle-bound tree trunks strained beneath the armor. His eyes narrowed, sweeping across the legion surrounding him in a red haze. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as air flooded and vacated his lungs in spasmodic breaths.  Each demon surrounding him hesitated, reluctant to tempt Fate like their fellows did. But this did naught to diminish the Hellwalker’s tireless fury.  He took a long drag of the air before throwing his arms to either side and howled into the night, head tilted back and raised towards the sky. The vehement, resounding bellow reminded the fiends of fear, of terror and dread. And as it reached Tapnuilohr’s ears, echoing throughout the whole of the ruins, the cacophony of a nearby collapsing building dwarfed the vocal testament to rage for but a moment.  The Unchained Predator had only just begun to slaughter.

Tapnuilohr enjoyed toying with mortal insects, took a sick pleasure in it, and as such was especially fond of playing with the five unfortunate souls he and his horde encountered straight out of the rift. Not even the advent of a nuisance such as the Doom Slayer could detract from such bliss. After said individual arrived, he left the matter in the hands of his peons and continued toying with the only of the five mortals still standing.  Bartholomew Oobleck--the name of the man barely holding himself together. It was the one he knew, that is. Who knew if his four concubines’ prater heard before each subsequently fell unconscious was to be believed? And this mere man, this Bartholomew, proved quite entertaining. For, unlike the other four, his albeit frail frame had withstood far more punishment. Not only that but his every attack hit harder than the women. As such, more of the whelps Tapnuilohr called followers met their end by his hand. Thus the fiend took particular interest in the man once all four of his mistresses fell.  Prior and proceeding the Slayer’s advent, Tapnuilohr toyed with Bartholomew. He batted the insignificant man this way and that like a rag doll, guffawing all the while. Yet whenever he was knocked down, he stood back up onto shaky feet. Every time his meaty ham of a fist slammed into the other’s side or his tree trunk cloven feet cracked the man across the cheek, he struggled back up to his feet.  No matter the attack, no matter the thunderous show of strength, Bartholomew refused to stay down.  However, no entertainment lasted for as long as you’d want it to. In this case, the Doom Slayer’s unwillingness to lay down his life like a good dog spoiled the daemon’s fun--just as Tapnuilohr had just begun to squash the man beneath his foot, too.  A cacophony rose up from the collapsing building and a tidal wave of dust nipped at the sound’s heels. Tapnuilohr eased up on Bartholomew, stepping back and throwing his gaze over his shoulder. What faint moonlight there was dissipated as the dark brown cloud engulfed the whole scene. But this discord paled in comparison, not but a moment after, to the bellowing roar of the Doom Slayer. On and on it dragged, reaching up and piercing the high heavens with his vehement fury. Those with little spine among the assembly were shunted to the ground, quivering like maggots.  The dense haze of debris did little to obscure the baron’s vision, his smoldering pupils cutting through the screen to rest upon the enraged disposition of the Unchained Predator. Gore decorated his armor like a litany of war medals, and blood painted the metal a new hue. Slowly but surely, the cloud began to disperse and settle onto the craggy ground.  Dust and debris stuck to the ichor-splattered suit, dying him a muddy maroon.  Two blazing, seething scarlet orbs bled out from the ocular region of the helmet.  The insignia emblazed upon his forehead and the back of each hand glowed with the same fiery intensity.  Wispy trails of red curled up towards the sky from either orb.  A black shadow seemed to perpetually cling to him, muddling his features.  Hate and fear exuded from him in profuse waves, each nigh-tangible.  Every demon amassed around him took an instinctive step back, unadulterated terror etched into their visages. And for all his bravado and gumption, when faced with Hell’s boogeyman, Tapnuilohr was no better than a sniveling wimp. But he couldn’t allow his underlings to see him in such a state, not to mention allow them to defy him due to one man--no matter how horrifying.  “You pathetic whelps!” he bellowed, shifting and turning around from Bartholomew. “He is but one man--he bleeds just like you lot!”  The fiends looked from their master back to the Slayer several times, finding themselves stuck between a rock and a hard place. And Tapnuilohr knew he was losing control of the situation, and that fact infuriated him to no ends.  Fear gave way to overriding rage as he stomped forward, tossing aside imps like rag dolls with each thunderous step. His cloven feet cracked the asphalt, his clawed fingers balled up into ham-sized fists. The terror of the man’s presence skirted the edges of his apprehension, probing the margins of his psyche as red blinded him. Dark green energy began to coalesce around either fist like a raincoat, crackling and popping when exposed to the cold atmosphere. His eyes, akin to smoldering coals, glowered with unadulterated hate.  The Slayer’s gaze did not shift or waver for even a moment, further infuriating the Baron.  “You think just because you’ve frightened the dreams of sniveling babes, you scare me?!” he roared not but ten long steps away from the other. “I am Tapnuilohr, do you hear me! Tapnuilohr the Bloody-handed! And you will kneel before me in fe--”  The darkened form of the Hellwalker blurred and in the fraction of a second, he was hurtling towards the Baron’s head. Whatever bravado his indignation invoked drained from his visage, just like the now ice cold blood. Death incarnate had launched itself at his head without so much as acknowledging the insignificant, hollow threats which spilled from his mouth. And as the mere foot distance which now separated them dwindled like the individual granules of sand in an hourglass, Tapnuilohr came to the startling realization of just how small he was compared to the Scourge of Hell.  But a final moment of defiance flared up inside him.

Feeling the immense weight of the abhorrent abomination lift up off of his person, Bartholomew made an effort to pick himself up off the asphalt. The world was a fuzzy mishmash of unfocused lines and partially blurred shapes--he’d lost his glasses at some point during the confrontation. Yet the chorus of carnage and putrid stench of death continued to come in as clear as a picture taken of a transparent waterfall on a cloudless sunny day. This included the anguish which set his entire body aflame.  He hadn’t expected to encounter these appalling entities here in the ruined city--there should have only been Grim and potential criminals on the mountain. Those he’d been prepared for, those he felt the girls could deal with. But not this. Especially not with the sheer number that poured out from the bizarre rift that parted the ether before them.  They were surrounded and overran. It was inexorable. However, he thought for sure they’d have been able to escape before anyone was badly injured. So he either overestimated the team’s abilities or he underestimated their unknown enemies. Or was it due to the lackadaisical nature of Ruby? The bullheaded aggression of Yang? Maybe the overweening of Weiss? Perhaps Blake’s hypocrisy and the resultant friction it begets in the group as a whole? Whatever the reasons, they were in their current situation and no amount of retrospection would get them out of it.  Thankfully, whatever higher powers that might be deemed it appropriate to interrupt the apparent leader of the abominations, before it could deal a finishing blow. Whoever this individual was--the entities trembled in their presence, whereas they laughed and guffawed when faced with the girls and himself. And for a moment, this terror even spread to the leader.  But then it stomped forward, bellowing its language of grating vowels and harsh consonants as it approached the armored man. He couldn’t understand the reasoning behind this entity’s sudden aggression, they both witnessed the sheer ferocity and brutality of the man--albeit less so for himself due to his circumstances. Yet the sheer contempt which radiated from the thing was nigh palpable, seconded only to the murderous aura which exuded from the individual’s presence.  As it towered over the man, though, Bartholomew wondered just how the fight might go. He overpowered the abominations which heeded the beckon and call of the great behemoth that led them, but they were not like their leader. It was of a power that far exceeded the peons it surrounded itself with. Was it more than the new arrival could handle?  The professor squinted and tried to focus his vision on the fuzzy silhouette of the armored man. A sudden sensation washed over his body, causing goosebumps to crop up all across his skin. For a moment, it seemed as if the whole world’s breathing hitched in his presence. One might describe it as the cosmic position of the planet being displaced several centimeters in response to some unseen force giving way to an insurmountable power. In a split second, where the individual once stood was naught but empty space; just like that, he was gone. Then he watched a baffling scene play out as if caught in molasses.  With a deafening crack, the lumbering abomination drove a fist into the side of its left knee, bending the joint at an unnatural angle, and jerked his entire body in the same direction. Gravity yanked it to the ground, and the sudden change in position narrowly saved it from oncoming death as the same individual rocketed past its head with a shower of shards and ichor. His momentum carried him ways away from the target, pulling him to the pavement with an ear-piercing crack. The sudden solidity of the earth did little to jar the stalwart bastion of metal and strength; he began to skid across the asphalt, deep runnels through the black asphalt trailing behind him. And after a moment, he came to a gradual stop directly in front of Bartholomew--clutching one of the curved horns of the behemoth in a gauntleted hand like a child’s toy.  There was a piercing keening noise, then, which emanated from the entity as it pawed at the stump its right horn had been reduced to. A trail of stomach-churning fluids stained the asphalt. But the truly grisly sight to behold was the individual.  The proximity made the murderous intent and vehement fury exuding from his mere presence as thick as molasses. It was arduous to breathe when exposed to such an overwhelming aura. His eyes moved from the professor to each of the students, and then back to himself. This begot a single thought in Oobleck’s mind: “Was the enemy of my enemy truly my friend?” Yet when the man’s gaze shifted up from the concrete and onto him, there was an overt lack of interest. Nay, not a lack of interest--rather no aggression, no directed hostility. In fact, it felt like those glowing coals hovering over the eye slits of his helmet didn’t even register Bartholomew’s existence.  Despite all that, though, a sliver of empathy trickled out from the abyss of rage and hate that had swallowed the individual whole.

If the confounded demon hadn’t shown such a brazen act of defiance, his death may have been swift--one does not usually experience much anguish when the entirety of their head was splattered across the ground. But in skirting around the Slayer’s trajectory, Tapnuilhor sealed his fate.  He skids to a halt before a thin, scholarly man who was still collapsed on the black ground. The four women he saw not but several moments prior were on the ground, unconscious and likely bleeding out. Inside him, the inferno brought his blood to a broil. But when his gaze rested upon the relatively well-dressed man, bloodied and yet refusing to stay down, the fire waned for but a moment. And in the lessened oven of hate, memories of times long gone resurfaced anew. Had he been as strong as this man, then perhaps...  But there was no time to further the thought--the keening of the fiend reinvigorated the flame. He stepped back and reeled with the horn clutched in hand. The machinations in his mind turned the shearn appendage into a missile, a razor-sharp boomerang ready to spill the blood of the wicked.  Spinning around in one fluent motion, the Slayer heaved the horn and flung it forward at an arc. It was similar to watching a chakram being thrown as the tip whipped around and around like a saw blade. The sheer force with which it split the air begot a high-pitched whining noise as it careened its way into a crowd of fiends. Much like throwing a wrapped package of meat into a wood-chipper, it was a bloodbath.  Ichor sprayed out like a set of showers in a locker room, each body caught in the horn’s path torn to ribbons as if in a grinder. It was all the same in the red tint of his vision. The object even impaled a few on its length, carrying each with it as momentum launched it into one of the many ruined structures of the city. A great upheaval resounded throughout the many streets as cement and metal crunched, broke and were sundered. Then a cloud of smoke poured out from the very same building, bleeding out and suffusing the area in all directions. It was like a smoke screen, it grated eyes and irritated nostrils as both’s respective sense became muddled.  Not the Slayer’s, though--whether due to his helmet or the lust, he knew where his prey resided. The red of his vision almost highlighted each one, his smoldering pupils piercing through the haze. And perhaps it was for that very reason that the now outlined demons began to flee. They turned tail en masse before dashing back towards the portal, some in other directions, each scrambling or pushing or trampling over one another--all to get as far away from their waking nightmare as possible. Primal instincts working at their finest. But those who didn’t run for the rift met with a terrible demise.  The man darted to each animated bag of meat, always leaving behind an afterimage wherever his movement waned enough for the mortal eye to track. It’d be like a flashlight flicking on and off to anyone watching from the sidelines. One second a fiend was alive and standing, then they were a pile of gore the next. No one saw the bastion land a single blow, let alone the one that killed; all but the ephemeral afterthought of his presence was a blur of motion.  As he carried out his work, the sound of a large mass scrapping along the asphalt reached his ears. Then a voice exclaimed, “Cowards! The lot of you!” broke through the cacophony of battle. Despite its brave front, the owner could not hide the quaver and desperation in its tone. “Not fit for the maggot heaps, all of you! Each and every one, you’ll know what it truly means to be in pain when I’m through with you!”  He stopped dead in his tracks, remnants of a summoner’s head clenched in one hand like a shredded rag. Glancing to the side, Tapnuilhor was what he saw. Crumpled to the ground, prone and shouting out to those fleeing past it, with one clawed handheld to its snapped knee and the other inching along the ground, the thing was dragging itself along the ground. It, too, moved towards the opening. The haughty always kept blowing hot air, even after being brought low.  A tight frown creased his split lips.  Uncurling his fingers and shaking the wads of red, white and gray from the nooks of his gauntlets, he stepped to the side and settled his eyes on the abomination. A sneer would have contorted his visage had Hell not already ingrained a perpetual hating scowl and furious frown upon it. He took one step forward, then a long stride and another. The still stagnant veil of dust could not save Tapnuilhor from his wrath, nothing could.  It must have heard the heavy falls of his boots because the chastising was quick to turn to pleas for help and its pace picked up. Whatever concern it had for its limb went out the window, now using both arms to pull itself along. Even with both arms, though, it’d never reach the portal before their paths intersected. His strides were too long and far too fast. The great, lopsided head snapped back and forth with fretful frequency, the one good beady black orb of its face dripping with dread.  “Waitwaitwait!!” cried Tapnuilhor. “Oh, Great and Mighty Slayer of All That Is,, please bequeath the sniveling, undeserving maggot that is I your mercy!”  He continued to tromp.  “I-I can help you! Yes, yes even someone as lowly and undeserving as I can aid you in your conquest of the Umbral Plane! I have more use alive than dead!!”  He brought up either fist, clenching his knuckles until they audibly popped.  “O-or-or--or...! I-I-I can get you anything! Anything at all, for I am a Baron, no one can question my requests! Name your price and I’ll--I’ll...!”  With a crack of bone, the Slayer planted the sole of his boot into the base of the demon’s neck. It was pinned, now, under his sheer strength. Then he began stepping up and onto the whole of its girth.  “Anything, I’ll give you anything!!” Its voice was noticeably constricted. “Please don’t--”  The Hellwalker reached for and took hold of the creature’s only other horn, yanking it back. His crimson orbs, the ones bleeding from the slits in his helm, met with the terrified gaze of Tapnuilhor. Its facial features twisted in fright, grimacing and desperate to shrink out from under his glare as the color drained away. Each finger curled around the bone until several thin, web-like fissures stretched out from the points of contact. The demon howled but was cut off by his other hand jerking for and grabbing the upper half of its jaw, digits digging into the roof of its maw and knuckles pushing back the thick slab of meat that was its tongue. Then three low, hoarse words crept out from the lower region of his helm--a series of sounds so clear that they were the only thing it could hear, even amid the rest of the world’s noise.  “Give them back.”  Brimming with venom, his was a curt statement that heralded the Baron’s demise.  He wrenched his hand back. It, the mouth’s roof, gave way like liquid candy. Crimson sprayed out as sinew and veins stretched, snapping and spurting bodily fluids. Eventually, flecks and globs of dark jade green began mingling with the hues of red as the nasal cavity burst open and added its own ichor to the shower. Then the black jelly of the eyes and their stringy, twine-like optic nerves joined the fray as he continued to tear. Soon his hand reached the forehead, to which he responded by yanking the opposite hand perpendicular to the direction said mitt had been carving. His fingers plunged in and shattered the bony barrier of its cranium due to the shift, causing him to scoop out a handful of gray matter and fragments of white bone as the appendage emerged anew from the top of its skull.  Then Tapnuilhor’s body fell limp, its ruined head being the only part held up off the asphalt. Once finished, he released the horn, huffing before stepping off the neck. Looking around, the Slayer saw several stragglers from the prior slaughter. They were using the environment to cover distance faster than they would just by running. Meanwhile, the droves that decided to flee for the portal back home were avoiding him as they dashed past, circling around where he stood. Treating him as if he was a plague carrier.  The cloud started to disperse in the rolling wind. He could still make out the fiend farthest away, see it scaling a small building far off, and it was entirely possible that he could reach it, too, in a matter of a few seconds or so. And he wanted to, oh how he wanted to feel each demonic bone crack and blood vessel pop in the palms of his hands. But as his body readied to spring back into action, a calming voice drawled in his head and broke the epinephrine high.  <Time is of the essence, my champion.>  His head rose up and oscillated all around. Without the red haze, he spotted the altar and a few of the priests among the fiendish bodies. The evergrowing orb of Argent, too, was in sight. It was a timed detonating emanation of his blade, one which was reaching the end of its fuse. And once it exploded, the rift would seal--forever.  So he glanced around at the man and unconscious girls, scrutinizing them. In his moment of clarity, he truly acknowledged the fact that they hadn’t been torn limb from limb before he got there. Not only that, but for one to still be clinging to life and consciousness after being reduced to a plaything of a Baron? Such a feat wasn’t something to be taken lightly, especially by him of all people. Hell and its denizens were no pushovers, after all. Though they were certainly in no condition to fight anymore, nor did the man on his own stand much of a chance, but if there were more people like them in this dimension? Then he felt confident that what few abominations survived and fled to elsewhere in this world could be dealt with without him.  About facing the prone man who was staring back at him. The Slayer made a quick gesture, knocking his fist against his chest thrice, bidding his fellow warrior goodbye and good luck. Before finally turning around anew to charge for the rift and fiendish droves, snatching up his tool from the ground and placing it where it’d normally reside.  Then the haze returned and his hands extended this way and that. Chunks of meat and a mist of ichor were left behind with each fallen corpse. Hell’s sweltering heat gradually interposed itself over the welcomed chill of night, bit by bit, each intense wave begetting memories of aeons past.  A tight frown creased his mouth.  Reinvigorated was the now sundered horde’s clamor at the sight of their monster giving chase. Some lashed out with claws, tooth or projectiles from sheer desperation. They met their fate headlong by his prompt retaliations. And those unfortunate enough to be within his proximity suffered a similar end. Those that remained scattered to the four winds, wading through the lake and towards the walls of the bowl.  While popping out a Hell Knight’s head and spine, the Slayer could hear a shrill whining. It originated, he found, from the Argent orb. The condensed scarlet ball now hovered a foot off the top of the altar, an undulating spider’s web of the same energy spread out from the center point and siphoning all it could from the available sources. If a manifestation could be bulging, burgeoning like a mouth filled to bursting with water, to be engorged, then this was certainly what it’d look like. As such, since he last saw it, its size had increased close to a hundredfold. Now it was whining, throbbing and pulsating as it struggled to contain what it’d already garnered.  It wouldn’t be long before the sphere reached critical mass.  The Slayer spun the head by its spinal column, overhead like a sling, and cast the whole thing to the closest of its brethren. It collided with a wet smack, caving in against the demon’s collar and dazing it for a moment.  Behind, the whining crescendoed into an exponential shriek as waves of energy made his hair stand on end.  He dashed towards the fiend, corpse in tow. Then, in an instant, the dead body was flung at the Knight like a doll. Their impact knocked the wind out of the still breathing one, as well as its balance--the momentum carrying both several yards back, together.  Shrieking turned to screeching and the rolling tide of energy caused the air to crackle and pop.  Just like a shadow, the man was already behind the two bodies. He reached out and wrapped either arm around the jumbled mess of limbs and torsos, tensing his legs for but a moment. Then he dug his feet into the ground before jumping back with all his might in the moment that followed. After, he tucked both legs up and behind his protective wall of meat, letting the immense speed of their collective bodies take him along for the ride.  There was an abrupt sound from the Knight before the deafening bellow of an eruption silenced the world.  What was felt in the waves before were droplets dripping into a lid compared to the deluge of the full release. The blood-red rock of the island was rent in all directions. An immense surge of force scattered chunks of debris and bodies alike, ravaging those unfortunate enough to be on the island to naught but viscera and scorching their flesh and the stone black with superheated air. This blistering heat ate its way through the protective metal around his arms, singing the hair and burning his skin. And even through the bulk of the two Knights, the Slayer could feel the Argent’s power like a punch to the gut. His only saving grace was the distance put between himself and it before the detonation and the very mass of the shields in front of him.  The wind screamed in unison with the world as both whipped past his helmed ears. He could hear the discord of the lake’s blood as it was tossed around by physics, rolling and lapping and trying to combat the explosive force while also attempting to fill in the new gaps and spaces opened up to it. An odd shift in the ether occurred, one which overcame the eruption’s disturbance, and unsettled the man.  When the ball exploded, the resulting force caused the rift to collapse--that’s how he always closed the portals. And when it did, it was like reality had begun coughing and hacking vehemently. The entire world always seemed to drop an inch from its resting place. He’d feel an ephemeral vertigo of sorts, an inward sucking that left him colder on the inside than before. Then everything reorientated itself to the new settings and it’d all fade. It just wasn’t something you could just adjust to.  And when things did normalize, he and what remained of the Knights’ bodies skipped once across the lake’s surface. The sudden loss of momentum was jarring and broke his grip on them. Chunks of meat dispersed and he began tumbling, end over end, through the air. Despite the adrenaline numbing his body, of which wanned bit by bit, the detonation compounded by the water’s smack left his everything throbbing in pain.  Then he skipped across the blood for the second time.  And then a third.  A fourth.  Fifth and sixth and seventh, each closer together than the last.  Two more skips later, he finally lost inertia’s drive and was left floating face down in the ichor after slamming into the surface. Half conscious, he was fighting against the inexorable crash to stay awake. The taste of burnt copper was against his tongue and on his lips, both his own and not of his. And the lake’s water lapped at his armor, seeping through the gaps. Then the perpetual light of the Umbral Plane was blotted out by an immense shadow.  He glanced above, neck aching as it craned, and saw the source--a spinning hunk of island debris the size of a small building. And it was already three or so feet away from colliding. It was the last thing he saw before blacking out.

All the Slayer knew, then, was black. Perpetual dark pervading an endless void in which he floated, listless. Emotion and thought had no place here, no meaning, nor did things such as direction or substance or time. He, too, had no purpose. No reason to be or amount to anything beyond a formless congregation of self cast adrift amid the abyss.  Was this death? Had he finally carried out his penance for all the sins committed in a time long since gone? Could he be free of the shame that befell him from transgressions past? Or did his eternal damnation for said acts come to plague him in the afterlife, too? If it had, then the man was at peace with his fate. To never be forgiven and lost among the nothing of death for eternity--it seemed a fitting punishment. Better to not beget memories of old to those lives he forfeited aeons ago, anyhow.  Then, where naught should have been, he felt pain.  Burning anguish.  A lone flower leading the charge of a whole field in bloom.  Then came a voice, stern and familiar.  <Rise--your work is still not through.>  Next was a flash, then the dark was gone. Replacing it was a less infinite black, the burn of oxygen-deprived lungs and the crushing weight of the rock as well.  Emotion and thought had purpose anew, and both returned to his psyche with one vehement and unanimous list.  Air!  Strength and feeling flooded back into his body. Each muscle and every fiber of his being contracted as one. Bracing his arms against the rock and positioning his feet beneath him after wriggling either pair out from where it pinned them, he exerted his whole body. He lifted the stone up and off the lake bed. Once he could establish his footing, he proceeded to lurch forward and propel the rock out of the blood like a missile. Nearly sweeping him off his feet again by the current that manifested from such force.  Air!  His lungs cried for air!  Without really thinking, the Slayer chose a direction and leaped towards it. Despite the dense nature of the partially congealed blood, he was still able to push through and zip up to the surface with tremendous speed.  The mallifying lake was upset anew as her burst forth from its crimson depths. Malformed and gelatinous of the ichor sprayed out in all directions. His pale blue-gray and bloodstained armor was a blur as the streaked towards one of the basin’s walls. For a moment, it felt like being in the void again, soaring through the ether. Then the scarlet steep filled the entirety of his vision, and he promptly smashed into the rock.  Gasping, he latched onto two of the stone outcroppings of the wall and began alternating between coughing, sputtering, inhaling and exhaling. Then he sucked down, even more, air, heedless of whether or not each mouthful reached its intended destination or not. Oxygen felt like a lozenge made of sandpaper going down his throat, scratching it raw yet alleviating the anguish of asphyxiation.  After a moment or two, he dug into the rock with the fingers of one hand until they were snug in the hole and found a place for either foot to rest. He released his hold of the other outcropping the opposite hand still held onto and glanced back, close to dangling off the cliff face. Far back, were the remnants of the island that the rift and altar once resided. The ichor was still trying to fill in the new gaps. A faint distortion hung in the atmosphere causing the blood beneath it to ripple. And the few stragglers of Tapnuilhor’s horde there was were wading through the lake, aimless.  Their incursion had been stopped dead in its tracks once again. And another litany of demons fell to his might. Yet it was not enough.  He swung back around and slammed his hand into the escarpment, puncturing the rock. Then he reached up to do the same with the opposite. And again with the prior, forcing each pocket to open wider with the tips of his boots as he made his way up. Thus began the ascent up the wall. He still had work to do, after all. No time to rest, not if the wicked didn’t.  On he went to finish his life’s work--there were still demons to rip and tear.

#⚠️ Warning : Possible Triggers Within ⚠️ #⚠️ Disturbing Imagery ⚠️ #⚠️ Graphic Description ⚠️ #⚠️ Graphic Depictions of Violence ⚠️ #⚠️ Death ⚠️ #⚠️ Profuse Gore ⚠️ #⚠️ Hell ⚠️ #⚠️ Sacrilegious/Demonic Worship ⚠️ #⚠️ Doom ⚠️ #⚠️ Doom 4 (2016) ⚠️ #Fanfiction #Personal Project #Crossover #RWBY #Doom Slayer #Ruby Rose #Yang Xiao Long #Weiss Schnee #Blake Belladonna #Bartholomew Oobleck #⚠️ Out of Exsitence - OOC ⚠️

[ask-the-friendly-ink-demon]

Alpha? Prowliz? is Prowler okay?!

“OOPS~ MY HAND SLIPPED~”

“LiZ!” alpha tried getting up, coughing as joey and omega rushed out, seeing the still forming prowler “OH THIS MIGHT OF BEEN A BAD IDEA....” he says as alpha turns around “YOU FUCKING SUMMONED HIS SOULLESS STATE?!” he says as omega putted his hands up “HEY. IT IS REPAIRING HIS BODY RIGHT?” he says, he and alpha aruging as joey glances over, his eyes widening as prowler’s body growing and changing “PROWLIZ WATCH OUT HE’S GONNA-” he didint get to finish as prowliz suddenly turns around, and freezes when a nightmarish beastly melted up version of prowler formed, as it suddenly lets loose a loud booming roar, his demonic aura spiraling as the nearby windows shatter and lights break but something else also got damaged.....

“LIZ!!!!!”

Prowliz screeches out loudly as her eye suddenly blows up, ink and steam and smoke shot out of the wound as she shrieks, the demonic aura damaging and pushing her back due to the loud volume of the roar, alpha quickly rushing over and picking her up as her body steams and melts, the others shortly after covering their ears as the raptors all screeched and shrilled. prowler roaring more and more, omega groaned, stumbling and trying to pull out the illusion of living, before another burst of energy from prowler was causing everyone to fall down, alpha glances up at seeing prowler turning to a melted up deformed variant of his unholy form, before seeing a strange messy pile of bluish ink and tar and other parts, that pile soon grew into a more. messed up enmlarged version of prowler, sporting a more naga shaped build, but with a lot of messed up parts around it’s body

the partly formed unholy prowler turns around to stare at the missing parts of him, steaming as he barks and growls, foaming as the enlarged naga looking demon just twitches, before growing taller, more monstrous, turning to a more, enraged and berserk looking state, with the ink around it becoming a more darker hue as it’s legs formed, one being a glob and the other being talons, the tyrant demon releases a loud roar as it’s own aura spiraled, the others just staring in both fear and confusion

The Tyrant Demon snarls, rushing up on all fours, and pouncing onto the other partly formed prowler, the two roaring and biting into eachother, before their bodies steamed and sparked, forming and melting into one another yet again as the demonic aura ceases, both that and the other’s inky aura curling up into the massive pile of forming ink as it began to take a different shape....  Though alpha wasn’t worried about that, he kept shaking prowliz, red like tears forming out of his red eye “LIZ?! LIZ COME ON WAKE UP! PLEASE SIS WAKE UP!” his body started melting as he checked for a pulse from her, joey and omega would glance at eachother nervously, before looking back over at alpha, who was melting more and more, before he hears a faint heartbeat from prowliz, he sighed in relief, hugging her tightly, before he, joey, and omega saw the massive pile of ink shrinking and stablizing, slowly taking form into a familiar shape.....

#:) #oops #The Unholy Wrath (Prowler's Unholy Form) #The Former Ink Demon (Alpha) #The Demon's Forms (Prowler's Transformations) #The Forgotten (The Outcast Demon) #A New Home For Everyone (Henry's Lodge) #Back From The Dead (Prowler's Revenge ARC) #Freedom But At What Cost? (Aftermath) #My Art #My Drawing #The True Events (Canon) #The Man Behind The Monster (Joey Snazzy Drew) #Creatures From The Studios (Raptors; Lost Ones; Searchers; ETC) #The Alpha Of The Pack (Blair) #The Wandering Omen (Omega) #Roll Call! (Asks) #Fan Mail (Answered Asks) #Prowliz's Gonna be fine~ #not like she can die~ :)

[ask-the-friendly-ink-demon]

who is this aoi kao anyway?

let’s see what it has to say about that for a answer.

“HM..... YOU WISH TO TRULY KNOW ABOUT ME MORTAL?” it says, while stomping the corrupted demon to the ground, keeping it pinned there as it started draining the other’s energy slowly, the inner demon’s main eye opened, looking oddly similar to prowler’s unholy form’s eye “VERY WELL.... I SUPPOSE I OWE YOU HUMANS THAT MUCH IF YOUR STILL WATCHING THIS.”

“I AM THE RESULT OF ALL THE ANGER AND RAGE PROWLER FEELS. I AM THE FORM WITHIN HIS TRUE FORM WHERE HE CANT CONTROL HIMSELF. I AM ALL HIS NEGATIVE THOUGHTS AND EMOTIONS MANIFESTED INTO ONE ENTIRE BEING. I AM A FORGOTTEN SOUL. I AM MANY THINGS BUT I AM ALL THAT PROWLER IS NOT. I AM POWERFUL. I AM MORE STRONGER THAN HIM AND...” it glances to the weakening corrupted demon, it’s own body beginning to melt “AND IM DOING WHAT NEEDS TO BE DONE. BE BACK IN ONE WHOLE BODY... AND SHOW EVERYONE HOW MUCH POWERFUL WE CAN ALL REALLY BE-” it said- before being blown away by a plasma ray, screeching as it was caught off guard, it’s body losing slight chunks as it crashes into the crater, alpha and lizzie and susan both widened their eyes, before hearing a familiar roar. as aoi kao groans, lumbering out of the crater before seeing that, his eyes widening “WHAT?! IMPOSSIBLE!!”

Prowler growled, steaming as he was in front of the downed corrupted demon, roaring out loudly at aoi kao as his body steams and glows, growing in size as he roars loudly, the others were in shock at this for a good reason. the demon growled and huffed, glancing over to his corrupted self, it was still alive, but exhausted and passed out for the time being, rumbling before softly frowning a bit “sorry im late.... this will all be over soon... i hope...” he says to himself, rumbling before glaring at aoi kao who got back up, and wasn’t looking a whole bunch of fine right now

“h..How...? TheRe’s THrEe OF hIM Now?! WhaT The F-FUck?!” he clutches his head, thinking to himself, before he and lizzie and susan saw a burst of energy and light forming around the demon. before he was turned into his overloaded form.

prowler stares with a annoyed expression at aoi kao, grunting and huffing as the other stares back, hissing “WELL... IT SEEMS I FORGOTTEN ABOUT THAT NEAT TRICK YOU HAVE.....” it said, scoffing as prowler still stares, glaring “you’ve gone too far..... this is MY body... and your not leaving my body this time.... remember what i did to xeno? im going to do the same exact thing TO YOU!” he says, his form and body changing as he growled, growing even taller as his overloaded form was adapting to the corruption that aoi kao accidently released into the shell earlier on. the inner demon grunts, staring as it smirked a bit “YOU HONESTLY THINK YOU CAN STOP ME? WELL THEN... DON’T HOLD BACK THIS TIME~” it said, before flying towards the still forming demon.

#cue anime bullshit #lol #Nature's Rein (The Forest) #Energy Outburst (Overloaded Form) #The Inner Demon (Aoi Kao) #What Happened...? (Corrupted Demon) #The Unholy Wrath (Prowler's Unholy Form) #Demon's True Form (Prowler's True Form) #The Former Ink Demon (Alpha) #The Ink Wyvern (Lizzie) #The Dinosaur (Susan The Trex Toon) #Freedom But At What Cost? (Aftermath) #Back From The Dead (Prowler's Revenge ARC) #My Art #My Drawings #Drawing Response

[ask-the-friendly-ink-demon]

i wonder what henry would feel about his poor boy acting all crazy like that

“what.... henry might think....? of me acting and seeing me like this....?” the unholy demon pauses, thinking to himself as prowler’s form seemed to be different, wisping and steaming as the sun shined down a bit, green smoke steaming out of his nostrils and spines as he glances to the fight nearby, before looking down at himself, sighing a bit as his eyes melted a bit. forming ‘tears’ of ‘blood’ as he grumbled softly, thinking to himself..... what would he really feel of seeing his very creation himself acting like this.... he misses him. sighing softly before looking at the anon who asked the question.

“i..... think he would be disappointed with me.... with what i... had to do to survive.... to... keep repairing my soul.... i was.... so broken.... i didint know what else to do.... even fucking now... my soul is still far from healed... it may be repaired to a certain extent but... that doesn’t goddamn change the fact i’ve experienced a fuck ton of trauma during this damn ‘hiatus’ i....” he sighs, his body steaming and changing even further, bigger than his current height in this form, grumbling softly as his eyes dimmed down, a few more extra eyes appearing around him, but. along with even more scars that are revealed as the excess ink were used to increase his size and fixed his ‘skeleton’ as he wipes away his tears, forming a more annoyed and tired blank like expression on his face

“i..... i have grown all in the wrong ways... i don’t even feel like myself cause the rest of my damn soul is.. goddamn stuck in that fucking thing..! wanting revenge to whoever goddamn wronged me!... i... don’t know if he already got anyone.... though i don’t care... i need to.. stop him and kao before.... before.... it... repeats the same things i’ve done. merging people’s souls into it. infecting others with it’s own damn corruption- i” he steams, glitching and wisping as he growled softly, small crystals sprouting out of his body as his eyes steamed and flared up, nearly foaming up ink and a strange purple liquid as he growled and kept on walking. his inky aura spiraling “cant keep talking. have to finish changing. i aint letting those two fuckers abuse my damn powers and soul anymore.... it’s time to show them who’s really in control....” he says, his eyes glowing a oddly different color as his body glowed a faint purple hue, growling and scowling.

#My Art #My Drawings #Drawing Response #The Unholy Wrath (Prowler's Unholy Form) #Roll Call! (Asks) #Fan Mail (Answered Asks) #The True Events (Canon) #Nature's Rein (The Forest) #Back From The Dead (Prowler's Revenge ARC) #now you all know a little more of what happened to prowler during the hiatus once again #yes he's been... well merging other lesser creatures and people into his body but that was mainly to repair his own soul #he doesn't remember most of those events due to being feral and out of control with his own corruption infecting his mind #but yeah he still feels very bad about that and knows that henry and the others would hate him for that if they ever truly found out #Freedom But At What Cost? (Aftermath)

[ask-the-friendly-ink-demon]

so uhhhh- did prowler just shed like a dang snake? what's gonna happen to that husk then?

since that husk is connected to prowler’s ink still who knows. it might reform into the remainder of prowler’s toon soul. or it might just become a mindless monster. why don’t we see the outcome yeah?

Alpha blinks for a moment, pondering that statement.... before he slowly frowned and twitches

“GOd... THe.. dAMn MEntAL iMAge OF t-ThaT-”

“CAN YOU STUPID GREYFACES STOP PUTTING THESE IMAGES INTO MY MIND- IT’S BAD ENOUGH I SEE THE RESULTS OF HIS TRANSFORMATIONS BUT- IMAGING HIM ACTUALLY FUCKING SHEDDING LIKE A SNAKE JUST- UUUUUUGH” alpha groans and covers his face in lizzie’s back, internally screaming into it as susan just watches with a blink

she snorted, huffing before glancing over to the fight, seeing the corrupted demon going apeshit on aoi kao, knocking it around, slamming and breaking it’s entire body, even going as far as to make it damage itself, aoi kao twitches and groans, coughing as it’s body steams and hisses, bones sticking out and blood oozing out of it’s wounds, the corrupted demon grunting and scoffing, before slamming it’s clawed hand onto the head, nearly roaring out in victory, before the inner demon lets loose a ear piercing deafening roar, as it’s body engulfs the other corrupted demon, ‘prowler’ screeching out loudly in pain, scrambling and trying to break free. the ink wyvern, susan, and alpha watch in horror as the inner demon seemed to almost be. merging itself into the other. before the corrupted demon lets loose a powerful shockwave, roaring loudly in anger as the inner demon gets detached from it, but the other itself felt more weaker, coughing and stumbling back, before glancing over, seeing the inner demon forming into a new form, the eyes slowly widening as it sees the similarties this one has with it’s current form.... oh no..

“WELL.... IT ISN’T MUST BUT. IT SEEMS YOU STILL HAVE SOME FIGHT LEFT IN YOU AFTER ALL.... AH WELL.... MY TURN NOW...” it said, before roaring and flying towards the corrupted demon as ‘prowler’ roars, also running towards it as the two rammed into eachother as their possible never ending battle raged on, the others watching with a bit of worry now of what would happen if the inner demon would win in the end.... back in the forest where the ray was blasted into, the shell itself started to twitch while engulfed in the flames, a deep painful sounding groan echoed out slightly as the fires began to be swept into the shell, along with the fusion of the four ink demons got merged into the shell, the empty husk seemed to be reforming itself as purple and blue and greenish steam fumed out of it, the shell forming into prowler’s unholy form slowly, groaning as he staggers, trying to get his bearings

“ughhhhh.... jesus fucking christ what happened.... my head hurts like hell-” he suddenly yelps, clutching his heart, feeling a big ass pain like he’s just been pierced by a train “oW! WHAT THE.... hell?” he looks around, seeing the state the forest is in, blinking “ohhhh no... it didint happen did it....” he says to himself, before glancing over to see two massive shapes in the far distance in the plains fighting to the death.... prowler groans before face-palming “of course..... though im surprise i still have my powers... i thought that thing took it all away from me when it shedded.... hmpt... no matter now... i need to form into something bigger if im going to stop those two.... goddamn it this is why i need a damn break from all this fighting and chaos....” he says to himself, grumbling before he began to change his unholy form, updating it as he began to walk and walk, grumbling and huffing slightly as his body steamed and wisped, grumbling and huffing slightly.

#Roll Call! (Asks) #Fan Mail (Answered Asks) #The Unholy Wrath (Prowler's Unholy Form) #What Happened...? (Corrupted Demon) #The Inner Demon (Aoi Kao) #The Dinosaur (Susan The Trex Toon) #The Former Ink Demon (Alpha) #The Ink Wyvern (Lizzie) #Nature's Rein (The Forest) #Freedom But At What Cost? (Aftermath) #Back From The Dead (Prowler's Revenge ARC) #The True Events (Canon) #well #this be getting interesting right?

[ask-the-friendly-ink-demon]

STOP HIM HENRY!

Be Careful what you wished for....~[more under the cut]

“HENRY! WHAT IN BLAZES DO YA THINK YOUR DOING?!” harold screamed out as alpha’s eye widen “oLd Man! StoP! yOUr GOnNA gEt yOUrsElf KiLleD!” alpha said, as boris and alice stares in utter shock “h-henry! c-come on! dont do this! it wont work!” joey said, coughing as he tries to get out to help him, before with sammy and norman and jess holding him back it was hard to do so “BENDY! I KNOW YOUR IN THERE! PLEASE IT’S M-” he was cut off by said demon slamming his fist down, grasping onto the ground where it slammed.. onto henry, the demon growls, the beam still emitting rapidly as it’s green eyes stares into what it was holding, before the beam charges up rapidly, lifting the trapped human in it’s claws up to it’s mouth, was he... gonna blast henry into nothing but ashes?!“BENDY NO! STOP!” everyone else said but the unholy demon was too far gone at this point to hear, getting ready to blast henry... before it stops, blinking, before it roared out as everything happened too fast, the hand bursting out, the chest being torn open, and with henry leaping out holding something in his hand, as the unholy demon’s charging ray sparked and blew up, causing the others to be blown back slightly as henry yelps, falling to the ground, as prowler started roaring loudly in pain and agony, roaring as he melts and oozes rapidly, his body sparking and cracking slightly as he roars out loudly in pain

prowler snarls as he stumbles, trying to not fall down from the throbbing pain in his entire body as everyone was staring in complete shock, alpha was the first to speak out, in mostly shock and anger as his glowing eye flickers rapidly “HENRY?! WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THIN- HENRY?! WHAT’S- NO.. nO HENRY DON’T-” alpha coughs rapidly as he clutches onto the wall of the lodge, panting and hissing as he clutches his chest, feeling something heavily beating as he growled softly “n-nNOT nOW sWEetIE.. PLEaSe...” alpha said muttering to himself, as the others could only watch in horror as henry squeezed on the lump of ‘ink’ that he was holding, a strange purple vein like streak emitting out of the lump, as prowler roars out more and more in pain, the green silt not going away as it melts and oozes rapidly, roaring louder and louder as he tries to fly off, as his wings bursted, the flames going out of control as it burns him, roaring more and more as he falls to the ground, hissing as he weakly staggered back up, roaring more in agony as he stares at henry, who he finally notices looked... different now...

“im..... im so sorry bud....” he managed to say, as he started to squeeze the lump more and more, quite obvious now it was prowler’s soul, as the ‘lump’ started to crack, as prowler roars out more and more in pain, roaring more and more as he charges up his breathe, glaring, before he squeezed the lump harder, his gills broke, blood spewing and ink sprouting out of them as he roared out more and more in pain, trying to quickly fire it out, which causes him to be in more pain, melting more and more as he roars, the eye slowly flickering back to purple as a huge inky tear started to stream down his eye, melting more and more as the others stared in shock

henry stopped for a moment, his eyes widening, as he drips tears, both normal and a strange black liquid of tears, prowler whimpering weakly as he slowly reaches a melting and steaming hand, that was wisping of ink, henry stares, as he sees a pleading expression in the demon’s eyes, he wanted to stop, he wanted to go and fix his friend but... something told him he needed to do this, he frowned, as he forced himself to keep going, clutching the lump with both his hands as it keeps cracking before a few pieces of it break and fall down, as prowler then roars out loudly, glitching rapidly as he burnts and bursts rapidly, ink and blood sprouting and leaking out of him, the red markings on him burst open, releasing red smoke with faded’s screeching being heard, as henry’s eyes glowed a bit of yellow, getting a weird sense of deja vu, as tears streamed down his eyes, closing them as he felt the unholy demon roaring and melting away with loud burst of energy, streching it’s hands out... before melting entirely into the puddle with a heavy splatch as everything was.... silent....... no one made a move nor a sound, as they all stared in shock, a figure was watching, before slowly turning around and walking off, dropping their gun as they walked into the woods, everyone had only one thought on their mind.... has.... has prowler been finally.......?

#oops #:) #My Art #My Drawings #The Unholy Demon (Prowler's Unholy Form) #Wrath Of The Unholy Demon (Unholy Arc) #F btw #owo #The Creator Of Bendy (Henry Jefferson Jarvis) #The Ink Demon; Ruler Of Ink (Alpha) #The Brother (Harold Davison Jarvis) #The Big Friendly Wolf (Boris) #Angel Sent From Heaven (Alice Angel) #Man Behind The Monster (Joey Snazzy Drew) #The Daughter Of The Artist (Jessica Jarvis) #The True Events (Canon Verse) #Gore Warning #Freedom but at what cost? (aftermath verse)

[ask-the-friendly-ink-demon]

F: pa..Pa?..-The small ink wolf demon looked around, Hana no where to be found with their child an odd thing to happen with how well she used to keep him hidden-

“GET DOWN!!!”

henry said, as he instantly tackled the small child, the two rolling to the side as faded was thrown back to the front lawn, steam and ashes and blood emitting off of the spirit as it weakly get up, the sounds of a heavy thud being heard slightly, as henry looks up, still holding the small toon looking child as his eyes widen at the state faded was in, the spirit turns around, floating weakly and hovering as it chuckles and laughs, before flying straight to them with his last bit of strength, henry glares as he pulls out his gun, aiming it as a way to threathen him, but he never used it as his eyes widen, seeing a massive tail impaled the spirit as faded cries out in pain, as henry with holding haki looked over, as his eyes widen again “b...bendy..... oh my god bud...” prowler was in a worst state, large chunks of himself were missing, and his wings torn apart, glaring as blood oozes and leaked out of him as he trembled, forcing himself to keep going as he lifted faded up to his face, growling and snarling, as the spirit merely started chuckling weakly as blood oozes out of him

“W...we.....well... w...well... well... tTHis Is... QuitE a SUrpISE... HeH.. HEh... PArTneR, yOu... STiLL.. soMEhoW BeAteD mE... im... iMprEsSed.... yOur... STilL... uSEfUl.. tO mE....” he said, chuckling as prowler stares, before roaring as he bites down, and tore faded in half, blasting away the upper half with his ray as the spirit was reduced to nothing, faded was ‘dead’ for now, as prowler stood there, growling softly as he oozes rapidly, in pain but, he doesnt seem to be turning back, standing there as he started forming a large puddle, henry stares in a bit of shock, before gently giving haki to alpha, as he looks over “b...bend-” his eyes widen as prowler turns to look at him, his eyes still green, as he glares, with a predatory grin slowly forming from his face, as he releases a loud roar, uh oh.

#My Art #My Drawings #The Unholy Demon (Prowler's Unholy Form) #Wrath Of The Unholy Demon (Unholy Arc) #The True Events (Canon Verse) #A Spirit (Faded) #The Creator Of Bendy (Henry Jefferson Jarvis) #The Ink Demon; Ruler Of Ink (Alpha) #Freedom but at what cost? (aftermath verse) #My Writing #:) #Roll Call! (Asks!) #Fan Mail (Answered Asks) #Long Post

[ask-the-friendly-ink-demon]

Hi

“u-uh- hello there m-miss- uh- please do pardon for the late response to this ask we’re uh- currently having prob-” he yelps as he ducks, seeing a few glass shards flying around “o-oh d-dear golly......”MEANWHILEthroughout the remainer of the fight, both of the demons were fighting nonstop, damaging eachother rapidly, despite having half it’s skull cracked the ‘fusion’ was handling the much more taller and powerful demon, prowler snarls as he tail smacks the ‘fusion’ away, glaring as he roars a bit, running up, roaring, before yowling as he was bashed on the head with the three tails, stumbling as inky blood oozes off of him, turning around with a glare, before snarling and bitch-smacking it, watching the ‘fusion’ crashing through a couple of trees, he didint care if everyone in the town was starting to wake up in alarm to this, he needed to release his rage, glaring as he roars, the silts glowing as he rushes forward, roaring as he clamps his jaws around the monster, shaking him around like a ragdoll, before slamming it down, growling with a hiss as he roars at the ‘fusion’’s face, as the creature snarled, and jabbed it’s claws through prowler, as the unholy demon roars out in pain.red plague like markings engulfed and spiked out of him, roaring even more when he was smacked by the other hand, more red plague markings erupting, before it speared him, snarling as inky blood sprouts out of his entire body, before being blasted by the creature’s ray, crashing and falling to the ground, twitching with a hiss, the creature watching with a scoff and a grin “YOUR ILLNESS IS MAKING YOU WEAKER PARTNER~ MAYBE YOU SHOULD THINK ABOUT LETTING ME HELP YOU AGAIN! INSTEAD OF USING ALL YOUR RAGE AND ENERGY ON ME!~” the ‘spirit’ said, the tails swaying slightly with a little smirk as prowler twitched, laying there with a groan, glaring weakly as the creature huffs softly, before turning around to limp off “SINCE YOUR IN NO STATE TO KEEP ON FIGHTING I’LL JUST LET YOU STAY THERE AND DIE~” it said, the plague markings burning prowler as the unholy demon snarled, and glared, forcing himself to get up, as his spines flashed slowly, glowing from the tip of the tail, all the way to the top of his head, snarling as blood dripped from his eyes, releasing a loud roar towards faded as the spirit turns around, and it’s sockets widen as prowler unleashes his unholy ray at full force

the creature snarls as it was blasted upon impace, before being blasted a few more times, despite even trying to take more parts of prowler away to heal itself, the unholy demon kept on firing and firing, roaring loudly in rage as faded was started to lose control upon this form, as with one final blast the beam pierces through faded

the creature emits the most loudest roar ever as it cried out in pain and agony, blood sprouting out of it’s mouth and body as it cracks, before being blasted away towards a row of trees, crashing into a small mountain as it explodes upon impact, crashing onto the ground as it laid there, twitching and burning rapidly, trying to keep itself stable as it groans in pain, trying to get up, before roaring out as it felt a wounded as hell and pissed off prowler clamping it’s jaws around it’s shoulder, and dragging it backwards, before prying the jaws open, as faded’s sockets widen, screeching a bit as it claws rapidly, trying to break free “NO! NO! STOP! STOP PLEASE! I-” he was cut off as prowler unleashes one more ray, right into the creature’s mouth, as it roars out loudly in pain, as another explosion ran out, covering the two in the blast radius as a large burst of energy was released.

#i would of putted read more and did more details to the drawing but- #laziness- #lol #My Art #My Drawings #A Spirit (Faded) #The Unholy Demon (Prowler's Unholy Form) #The Big Friendly Wolf (Boris) #Wrath Of The Unholy Demon (Unholy Arc) #The True Events (Canon Verse) #Freedom but at what cost? (aftermath verse) #My Writing #Long Post

[ask-the-friendly-ink-demon]

F: What's wrong wi-ith pa!?..-The small inky boy started to cry his body shaking as he looked at them before looking at the male that had tackled him-

“I dUnNo kID.... BeSt lEt The One PeRsoN WHo KnOws HiM MorE thAN anY of US hAndLE thIS” he said, as he held haki slightly as he watches, henry pants as his eye glowed a bit oddly enough, backing away slightly from the damaged and destroyed unholy demon, as a powerful and distorted inky aura slowly erupts, the aura having a dark reddish color to it, as it cackles, the unholy demon still having that predatory grin on it’s face, as it slowly charged up a strange red like beam emitting out of the mouth, as henry stops completely, freezing up as he stares to the monster’s eyes

“b...bendy.... h....he’s still in there somewhere... i... i can try to reach him...” he said to himself, as he looks up, seeing the expressions on the demon’s face change rapidly, as he frowned softly “b-bendy.. i... i know your in there bud! p-please! c-calm down!” he said, as the unholy demon roared out slightly in agony, wisping ink and sprouting blood as it backs away a bit, roaring slightly as it stumbles a bit, panting, inky tears streaming down it’s eyes “MONSTER..... MONSTER... NOT PERFECT.... BROKEN.... TOO BROKEN.....” henry heard the beast’s words, even though it didint say anything, he felt it commiucate somewhat in his mind, another trait he gained from that bond he and bendy shared, he frowns softly, how can he get bendy to see he was still... bendy? maybe if he had a little more support.....

#My Art #My Comics #My Drawings #The True Events (Canon Verse) #Wrath Of The Unholy Demon (Unholy Arc) #The Unholy Demon (Prowler's Unholy Form) #The Creator Of Bendy (Henry Jefferson Jarvis) #The Ink Demon; Ruler Of Ink (Alpha) #Roll Call! (Asks!) #Fan Mail (Answered Asks) #Freedom but at what cost? (aftermath verse) #Terrors Of The Inky Past Aftermath AU

[ask-the-friendly-ink-demon]

-cough- "Um, Hi, I guess...?" Seth said while tired AF, rubbing his arm. (I'm dying not literally but y'know btw :3)

“hello there! sorry this ask came in late! we’re uh- having some- big problems outside.. but dad’s taking care of it!.... i think-” MEANWHILE-henry had to duck again in order to dodge the angry prowler, the unholy demon was on full on berserk mode as it roared loudly, smacking faded towards a couple of trees as the monster roars slightly, glaring with a hiss as it slowly lumbered towards it, the spirit chuckling as it gets up, blood and ashes emitting out of it as it stares with a grin, before slowly forming into something.the unholy demon stops as it stares, tilting it’s head with a growl, before seeing the spirit transforming into a more, corrupted like state of prowler that looked like a fusion of said spirit, and the demon, the three tails swaying while the unholy demon’s two tails swayed slightlyit roars, instantly lunging  at the unholy demon, as prowler snarls and stumbles, shaking it off and emitting a ray of his holy breathe, blasting and burning parts of the corrupted demon’s head off, watching steam emitting out of it rapidly, as parts of it skin melted, revealing the upper skull, as it stares, the two staring at one another, before roaring loudly at eachother

the two roared and started to maul into eachother, tearing and biting chunks of their skin off, prowler shoving him down, and roaring loudly as his wings sprouted, the corrupted ‘fusion’ snarling as it leaps, before being smashed towards a couple more trees by the tails, the demon’s eyes were green and purple, glaring with a hiss as he roars and charges towards faded, snarling loudly as he runs on all fours, these two are probably gonna be fighting for a while..

#My Art #My Drawings #Modern Reflection; Little Devil Darling (Bendy/Prowler) #The Unholy Demon (Prowler's Unholy Form) #Wrath Of The Unholy Demon (Unholy Arc) #Daughter Of The Demon And Angel (Brittany) #The Creator Of Bendy (Henry Jefferson Jarvis) #The True Events (Canon Verse) #Roll Call! (Asks!) #Fan Mail (Answered Asks) #A Spirit (Faded) #Freedom but at what cost? (aftermath verse) #hi ya'll we back in the mine-

[ask-the-friendly-ink-demon]

who's he prowler?

“oh my fucking- I ALREADY TOLD YOU ALL I CANT SAY NOTHING I..... I CANT... H.....HE’S... HE WO-” he coughs violently as the unholy demon growls and snarls loudly, stumbling as he oozes ink, growling, before his eyes widen, hearing a voice “AWWWW WHAT’S WRONG OLD PARTNER?~ DONT YOU WANNA TELL YOUR FRIENDS AND THE PEOPLE WATCHING THIS ALL THE ‘LOVELY’ THINGS YOU WANT TO SAY ABOUT ME?~” a strange looking thick misty layer of grey like smoke erupts around prowler’s entire large body, as the demon roars and stumbles, oozing ink rapidly as he coughs violently, growling as inky like tears started to stream down his eyes, the smoke kept forming until it manifests into a head, looking fairly similar to a bendy kinda, the horns anyway, only sprouting a extra pair, with the eyes apparently looking like streaks of blood, the mouth and jaw looking like a beak almost as the strange looking being chuckled “OR DO YOU THINK IT’S TIME WE GAVE YOUR A BODY A LITTLE CHANGE~”

Prowler was too lost in shock and fear, before then, the pain started. the demon roars loudly as his body oozes up rapidly, roaring slightly as he stumbles, roaring as ink oozes everywhere out of him, blood dripping from some parts as he coughs violently, glitching rapidly as he roars in a mettalic like tone, stumbling as he flaps his wings rapidly, roaring as his scars were slowly being exposed, the smoke manifested fully into a spirit like ‘demon’ with the body posture of a snake, with long lanky looking arms with a gorilla like posture to them, three clawed like hands were formed on the arms as the ‘tail’ shifted, the spirit having a crazed grin as the eyes steamed as it watches the demon going through extreme amounts of pain, prowler roaring as his eyes slowly looked similar to faded’s, the green silt forming to a dark bluish purple as he roars, ink oozing off of him as it sprouts everywhere, prowler trying to fly off as he roars, the silt shrinking as he whines, looking up as he trembled a bit “s...stop it... w.....what are you doing.. s...stop... it... hurts.... IT HURTS! PLEASE!"

he said, as the spirit looking demon only laughed a bit, grinning more as it makes a little shrug  "OH- I HAVEN'T DONE ANYTHING... BUT WITH YOU... AND THIS PLACE, IM GOING... TO MAKE SOMETHING BEAUTIFUL!~" the spirit said, grinning slightly more, as prowler suddenly releases a loud pained roar, roaring out loudly as he sprouts out ink and blood, glitching as he fires out massive rays of his holy breathe at random directions, henry and a few others like norman and alpha came out of the lodge to try to calm prowler down, while the others were too scared to come out, but the demon releases a loud burst of energy, emitting a shockwave as it knocks the others back, henry crashing into the wall as alpha screeches, falling into the cough, as norman emits a loud scream, his projector almost cracking as he makes a dent in the wall. the spirit was just watching all of this before huffing as it raises a non existent eyebrow, seeing blood forming on prowler as it pours out of his gills, the demon’s silts turning to a more blue like color, panting as he knelt to the ground, trembling and shaking as he coughs “S...s...stop it.... i....it hurts so much... f...faded please....s....stop.....” he pleaded weakly as the spirit merely laughs a bit, watching prowler’s height changed and extended, another tail slowly emerging and sprouting out of the unholy demon as the spirit known as faded, grins and folded his arms “NOW WHY WOULD I WANT TO DO THAT? YOUR LONG OVERDUE FOR SOMETHING LIKE THIS~ PLUS... I GREW BORED OF WATCHING YOU LOOK ALL TAME... IT’S TIME TO SEE WHAT KIND OF UNHOLY WRATH YOU CAN REALLY INFLICT~”

prowler growls weakly as he trembled more and more, coughing and oozing as he winces, drooling and foaming out blood and ink, he couldn’t keep this up, hissing weakly as he glares, the silt forming to purple color as he roars weakly, trying to swat at faded, only managed to weakly pawed at the air as the spirit chuckles, watching as the demon finally collapsed on the ground with a heavy thud, twitching as he was entirely paralyzed, laying in a pool of inky blood, his two tails and wings were limp and motionless, his eyes wide and frozen as his mouth hanged open, twitching a bit as faded floated, watching as he chuckles, making a little shrug as he pokes at the newly formed horns that prowler had, smirking and sinckering a bit “OOPS, I THINK I OVERDID IT A LITTLE~”

#:) #My Art #My Drawings #The Unholy Demon (Prowler's Unholy Form) #Wrath Of The Unholy Demon (Unholy Arc) #A Spirit (Faded) #Detailed Drawings #My Writing #Roll Call! (Asks!) #Fan Mail (Answered Asks) #The Creator Of Bendy (Henry Jefferson Jarvis) #The Ink Demon; Ruler Of Ink (Alpha) #Not Looking For Trouble (Norman Polk) #The True Events (Canon Verse) #Freedom but at what cost? (aftermath verse) #Oops~ #Gore TW #Body Horror TW #Suffering TW #Long Post #A Newcomer (????)

[ask-the-friendly-ink-demon]

henry, try talking to him some more! maybe it'll work you always talked him down before, maybe it'll work again?

“it’s worth a try....” he said to himself, as he looks up at the unholy beast that somewhere in there, had his friend deep inside, he knows he can reach him, he began to slowly walk towards the beast, even as it was still charging up it’s ray, even with everyone telling him, screaming at him to quickly run, he remained calm “b..bendy...... come on buddy.... you know i would never hurt you....” he said, even with the area slowly getting darker in par with the demonic aura that the beast was releasing, he remained calm “your safe now bendy... your okay... you can turn back now” he said, as the unholy demon’s eyes slowly reverted to blue, as it rumbles, tears still streaming down it’s eyes as it rumbles, before the eyes also flicked to purple, stumbling as it pants, still charging up the beam as henry putted on a soft smile, walking closer to his friend

the unholy demon makes a soft whine, having a pained and exhausted expression, red blood oozing out of it as it pants, foaming slightly as it staggers “you can change back bud... your okay now... please...” he said, holding his arms out, as prowler stares, the eyes fully going to purple, the beam slightly going away as the frown turned to a shaky broken smile, it seems what henry was doing was working!... until the sounds of a gunfire was heard, the demon roaring slightly as it stumbles, the eyes going back to green as it roars loudly, the aura erupting, henry’s eyes widen as he looks around to see who shot him, only seeing a figure quickly running away, the demon roars as it slowly charges up it’s breathe again, aiming at the lodge with angry eyes, the predatory grin returning, henry’s eyes widen, before without second thought he rushes forward, what is he planning....?

#My Art #My Drawings #Detailed Art #The Unholy Demon (Prowler's Unholy Form) #Wrath Of The Unholy Demon (Unholy Arc) #The Creator Of Bendy (Henry Jefferson Jarvis) #Roll Call! (Asks!) #Fan Mail (Answered Asks) #The True Events (Canon Verse) #Freedom but at what cost? (aftermath verse) #Terrors Of The Inky Past Aftermath AU

[ask-the-friendly-ink-demon]

BennAshe: Where’s my good ol’ friend Moddy Modernity Modern!? i have heard you’re feeling way much betteeeeeer! *BennAshe wiggled his tail happily as he looked around for his friend, he also seemed to have a box with him, it was pink coloured* i brought you a cake! to celebrate! (@ask-coldarcherbendy c;)

(*rubs hands together* i was gonna save this ask until like everything cools down but- fucc it i need to keep the story going so YEA)Bennash would hear a faint loud roar, before a slight mini earthqueake was formed a bit, back outside the lodge if said demon were to check it out, he would see prowler on the ground, in his unholy form, faded chuckling a bit, as he waited a bit, before he sees a bit of movement with the two tails, the unholy demon slowly getting up, his body and appearance seemed to have changed slightly more, looking a lot bigger than last time, glaring with blue like pupils, growling as faded chuckles “AW WHAT’S WRONG? DONT LIKE THE NEW LOOK? OR IS IT DUE TO THE FACT YOU HAD TO BE PAINFULLY TURNED INTO THAT?~” the spirit said, before prowler growls out darkly, purple smoke emitting out of his nostils as his eyes dripped with blood coming out of them, growling more as he hisses “Y…..YOU……I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU!”

he said, roaring loudly as he unleashes a massive ray, faded barely having any time to react, before he was suddenly blown away, crashing into a couple of trees and into a shack, the unholy demon growled more, and panted, stumbling a fire times as he frowns, unaware of bennashe was watching him as he oozes lightly(( @ask-coldarcherbendy 

#My Art #My Drawings #Roll Call! (Asks!) #Fan Mail (Answered Asks) #The Unholy Demon (Prowler's Unholy Form) #Wrath Of The Unholy Demon (Unholy Arc) #The True Events (Canon Verse) #A Spirit (Faded) #Cameo #Detailed Drawing #Freedom but at what cost? (aftermath verse) #Got Plans Tonight (Closed RP) #Returned To Home (RP)

[ask-the-friendly-ink-demon]

Day? Weirder? WHATS SO WEIRD ABOUT A DOG THAT CAN TALK?!

“WHO THE FU-”

#GJSDGJDJHJSKGHKSKH #OML- #Wrath Of The Unholy Demon (Unholy Arc) #The Unholy Demon (Prowler's Unholy Form) #Modern Reflection; Little Devil Darling (Bendy/Prowler) #Roll Call! (Asks!) #Fan Mail (Answered Asks) #My Art #My Drawings #Freedom but at what cost? (aftermath verse) #Is This Canon? (Shitpost) #HI YES- #WE BACK IN THE MINE- #PITCHAXES SWINGING

[ask-the-friendly-ink-demon]

hey prowler, how are you and drago doing?

“....things are.... a bit mixed between us right now but...... that always happens whenever that dog puts him through these types of moods and stuff.... i heard he and bendo got divorced though.... i cant help but feel like im to blame for that, since im the reason those two met in the first place..... but... things were.... well better for a short time between us but now..... he like all the others, left me, dissapearing without a trace, including ink and a few others...... i dont know if any of them will ever come back but.... i know it’ll take a while for me to open back up to them again......” he said, rumbling as his horns drooped, looking down as he sighed, exhaling smoke slightly “i do wonder how he and miko and patches are doing though... i hope they and dexter are doing alright..... maybe i should go fix up that cabin me and boris made for them all a long time ago.... heh not like i can do anything with these hands but... eh you never know right?” he said, yawning as he looks out to the sky, watching the stars as his tail shifts left and right(note, drago does not belong to me! i just decided to add him here in this drawing response to the ask for fun, he belongs to the one and only @ask-eb-drago-bendy aka @ask-shadow-n-gang )

#Cameo #My Art #My Drawings #Drawing Responses #Wrath Of The Unholy Demon (Unholy Arc) #The Unholy Demon (Prowler's Unholy Form) #Modern Reflection; Little Devil Darling (Bendy/Prowler) #Freedom but at what cost? (aftermath verse) #Roll Call! (Asks!) #Fan Mail (Answered Asks)