Xorriel

[VDOgAmefrEk]

Xorriel knelt down to the river to wash his face, and said without turning, “Your aura gives you away. Stop spying through the bushes, and tell me what you want already.” The man who had been in the bushes now came forth, and drew his blade. “Why do they always insist on a fight…?” Xorriel sighed, and grabbed his spear, wiping his face clean with his free left hand, tattooed with symbols of darkness, the last memory he had of his home before he left. But Xorriel did not take a fighting stance.
“What are you waiting for? Come at me!” The warrior practically screamed these words. It was clear he was afraid of Xorriel, and he wasn’t very experienced with the blade he held between him and the fallen angel. Xorriel looked the man over. He couldn’t have been more than twenty, maybe twenty-five, and was dressed in armor from head to toe. The one vulnerable spot on his armor would be that his face was uncovered. The emblem of a lion was engraved on his gauntlets; right on the back of his hands, and wherever the armor failed to cover him, instead there was rather thick mesh chain mail.
Xorriel exhaled loudly, and shook his head. “There’s no reason to fight me.”
“You’re a monster, that’s all the reason I need!” The man said these words with a little more confidence, perhaps thinking he was beginning to intimidate Xorriel.
“You seem like a smart guy, so I’ll give you one more chance to leave unscathed.” Xorriel still hadn’t moved. He continued to stand in his upright stance.
“Just come at me beast!” The man lowered his blade to just underneath Xorriel’s heart, and lunged. Xorriel simply side-stepped the man, and came down hard on the man’s head with his fist. The man shook a bit, and then regained his balance. But by the time he was about to attempt another run at Xorriel, he was already grabbed from behind, and dragged to the bushes. Xorriel knelt beside him, and put a finger to his lips, as he looked out into the clearing they had been standing just a moment before. Before them, a demon had appeared, and was now dirtying the once-pure water of the river with blood. Xorriel made a face in disgust of the foul smell he gave off, and turned to look at the man who had been trying to kill him just a moment ago. His face was entirely white, and he looked about ready to faint. Xorriel shook him just enough to make the man realize he was to stay awake the whole time. Then, Xorriel stepped out from the bushes. As soon as he did, the demon turned to face him, claws out, wings turned in menacingly.
“Boy, you have no idea whose power you are dealing with. I come with the blessing of Satan himself, the darkest being this realm over has given me his power to fulfill a quest for the better of all demon-kind. You’d be wise to step away from my duties.” The demon cackled in delight. “Not that you have any say in your life anymore.” The demon came straight at Xorriel, to which Xorriel ducked below the demon, and slashed his spear at his back. A long thin black line formed from the top of the demon’s hind leg to the base of his wing, and at this, he screamed in fury. The demon came at Xorriel again, this time with more speed. Xorriel predicted this, and caught the demon fist first in the gut, or where the human gut would be normally. At this, Xorriel and the demon exchanged a flurry of punches, slashes, and punctures. Xorriel received a lash mark across his cheek, but Xorriel had managed to slice one of the demon’s horns off. The demon howled in pain, and retreated out of the clearing, into the forest beyond.
“Damnit, he’s only half-dead…” Xorriel shook his head, and knelt back towards the river. He dipped his hand into the blood-poisoned river, and from his fingertips, a glowing white substance flowed into the water. It mixed with the blood from the demon, and quickly purified the water once again. Xorriel sighed with relief at this, and turned to face the warrior, who was now staring at him with awe. “Once again, I’ll give you one more chance to leave in peace.” At this, the man stood in silence, and bowed his head. Slowly, he turned away, and walked back into the forest, dragging his sword in the dust behind him.

[VDOgAmefrEk]

Sitting against a tree, Xorriel’s charcoal hair glistened as the moon hit it, flowing over his eyes, as he bent his head down to sleep. His dark robe showing his acceptance into the shadow brotherhood, the only thing he ever considered a memento from his former home, curled around Xorriel like a blanket, and extended down to his ankles. A plain white T-shirt was visible underneath the flaps in front of the coat, and Xorriel’s black boats shimmered in the night. The tattoos for priesthood within the church he had been trained at showed up down his left arm, a poison purple, and in some kind of old rune-like fashion, ranging from the top of his shoulder, to his very fingertips. He wore a fingerless black glove on his right hand, which he commonly used as his weapon hand in battle. Xorriel was always ambidextrous; however, he changed up his fighting style when he switched his weapons between hands. When he used his right hand, he had a better grip of the weapon, and often worked better against stronger hand-to-hand opponents. But when he used his weapon in his left hand, he could manipulate the shadows to his will. His shadow powers, although his tattoos were on his left arm, were stronger on his right arm. This was probably because the tattoos are put in place to limit power in priests. Because Xorriel only received half of the tattoos, he had more freedom in the level of power he was able to expel from his right hand. As dangerous as it was, Xorriel knew his limits, and stuck too them normally. But when the time called for it, he was ready to put power into his spells he knew he didn’t possess if it were to keep him alive, if only barely. When Xorriel fought like this, he played his weapon more defensively, allowing him to bide more time for his spells. His spells were often silent, and took the opponent by surprise. If Xorriel willed it, shadows within the battlefield could be used to drag the foe to a standstill, held down to the ground wile Xorriel dealt the final blow to him. Xorriel always believed in a short death, made to finish something quickly. He never quite understood how some demons could pleasure themselves with someone’s suffering. He often dismissed the thought with the fact that they WERE demons after all, they felt people need to suffer because they had too. Although this didn’t always completely satisfy Xorriel, it had to do.
Xorriel used two weapons, the first being an odd sort of ringed weapon. From a central loop, three scythes emerged. Although Xorriel didn’t use this weapon as often as his other, it provided excellent versatility. The only reason he didn’t use the tri-scythe was because Xorriel needed his spear for both offense and defense.
Xorriel’s spear was unique in itself. It was a dual-ended spear. A Crescent blade was fixated on either end, making it extremely versatile for Xorriel, who was adept in many weapons, though preferred ones that allowed quick recoveries. He named his spear Zasamael, after the priest he had bonded with at the temple he was trained. But some things about the spear were not visible to the naked eye. Xorriel was able to split the spear in half if needed to protect his other side, should it have been attacked in a vital area. Because the spear was rather lightweight, it was extremely quick in Xorriel’s hands. He could block any part of his body within an instant if attacked. Xorriel’s only weakness really lied within his strength.
Because Xorriel could see aura, there was a simple way to fool him. If something could blast aura, Xorriel could only rely on his sight to chase his target. This became problematic when higher demons sensed him, which hardly happened since Xorriel was by far the best hunter there was stealth-wise. Xorriel could even tell if one demon was mimicking another’s aura. But if a demon could actually manipulate its own aura to throw off Xorriel, Xorriel could only rely on the physical appearance of his surroundings. He’d have to resort to conventional means of hunting, broken twigs, clearings, etc. This was