Temple of Prometheus

[Slayer]

The creature was good at improvising. Very good. It craved the thrill of battle the same way that Elfric desired within the woman. A less d'jinn, she was not able to conjur the combust of energy to spout of fire in a similar manner. No, strength and resistence was her trademark, and so far she's survived through many harsh environments after all these years.

The roar only triggered an echo of laughter within her mind, alone to listen as the suit of armour came down upon her with a mighty swing of it's sword. The ifrit bore down upon her shoulders, seeping in to her muscles to prepare for that first blow... From a four foot long sword, attached to the arm, and manuveured with ease.

Strength pushed Freyja's body to react as well, and rather quickly. Or risk a sudden end to this confrontation. Both arms moved the smaller blades she wielded up in a defensive position as he approached, and then shifted to her right side to receive the first swing. Metal clashed with a high scrape and the force trembled down her limbs to her core but she kept her form, enough to catch that larger blade with a distribution of the two and as he pushed to let it slice diagonally she stepped back, retreating for a moment from both the blade and the extending arm until she was out of reach of the two.

The creature would have to advance to get her, as much as the ifrit pressed upon her temples for a counter charger. That long of a blade limited her own reach and being a part of the group of armor there was no chance to disarm her opponent. But they were without a regular functioning arm. However, she was drawing out that time they both needed and with a heavy exhale she held both blades, tips pointing upward, in front of her.

< A limb is a limb, stay on the good arm side so the tin can has to physically move to swipe at us again. > The strategist, in her mind, had her dart her eyes to the church doors behind the metal monster back to the gauntlet. If she could get close enough, it was a solid idea to keep dodging. Perhaps even get a jab in or two.

"Noted."

[Ire]

< In a word? > Cowardice. That was the most elegant extrapolation of the current agenda for the preacher, and the beast. Gattison's eyes narrowed sharply upon the Preacher as he spoke of saving who he could. The paradoxical rationalization wouldn't be realized by the hysterical man, who remained silent thereafter; sacrificing many to save but a few, to allow young minds to be corrupted by that which they were supposed to be protected from. Yet the Nomad withheld his query for the time being as his primary point of focus was undoubtedly elsewhere.

"I would not save the likes of you or your kind for the fate bestowed upon this village by your greed. You meddle with forces you cannot comprehend at the expenditure of those that cannot afford it. Your riches of the dead are worthless to me, foolish Beast. No possessions would save you from the rage of My heart." He was aware of the capitalization as he spoke of himself, superimposing superiority without hesitation, "We are not allied, thus I cannot turn on you. Sacrifice yourself to the creature, Vivi, or this Eldar will grant you no mercy in his vigilance." No glisten of sweat, no heave of breath, not even a sign of irritation on the surface of Gattison showed; His eyes narrowing further as the scintillating amber hues would appear to hold their own sentient flicker. Flames dancing in the reflections of his focused eyes, his form remained statuesque, the only sign of movement from him was the most subtle rise and fall of his chest in breathing.

"Any choice you make, foul beast, I assure you will end in your departure from this realm. If you truly desire to challenge this proposal, I will make certain it is Vivi who pulls you apart."