Patrollogs
(A battle in the Nightmare)
[Tue Apr 1 2025]
In the Parking Lot of the Elm Street Apartment Complex
It is night, about 24F(-4C) degrees, and there are a few dark grey stormclouds in the sky. There is a waxing crescent moon.
Bellowing. The sound that comes from Kah's throat can only be called a bellow of pain as that arrow comes ripping itself free and the force of it jerks at the Egyptian's his limb jerking as it pulled by the invisible strings of a marionette. Watching as that arrow finds its way back to Castiel, only to be returned to him! Kah lashes out with the edge of his shield, bright and brilliant sparks spraying everywhere as the arrow scrapes through the softer metal of the facing as the Centurian almost smites or bashes at the arrow with the shield's edge. Reaching down with his hand, another roar sounds as he rips out the bolt in his leg - and with a heave it comes hurtling toward Castiel again, the thick wooden shafts of the arrows traded between them back and forth leaving rips and splinters in their wake. This seems to bring a slight crack to Kah's facade as well, a spark of theh animal inside of him sensing the moment of potential weakness, judging whether or not to go for the throat and abandon that dogged and steady advance - but he cannot make the distance between them and so he moves forward. Red rivulets bleed from wounds that are slower and slower to close up and heal in the wake of the damage left behind.
The arrow that landed amiss returns to Castiel near immediately. It snaps into Castiel's hand again - but Castiel is barely hovering off the ground now. Strength returns to those wings - enough that he beats them, sends the heated gulf of air and water aspray around him in his continous retreat. Even with all of his divine might, Castiel can't hope to contend with the bone-jarring strength of Kah - and it is a wonder that he already has for so long, for an angel. His stop, this time, comes against a jutting rock with a heel pressed to it - and Castiel's arrow is lodged to a harsh pull, launched straight ahead at Kah again. There is hardly any of its previous boom left to the draw.
And yet the divine might and perhaps the divine right of Castiel seems to hold its own against the brutal machine that is Kah as he marches forward continuing to push and take every arrow that comes flying at him now as the Angel moves in retreat. The both of them come down to it here, each step forward from Kah is a force of his own will to keep himself standing, to keep himself abreast. But march he does, the ancient dog of war, and once more Castiel will feel himself pulled in - finding it easier as the strength of the Angel's wings begin to wane. A heavy strike comes, but Kah seems labored as he brings it to bear, blows that could smash through stone coming too light and too slow.
Something enters the periphery of Castiel's eyes. Cast out over Kah's shoulder, at whatever is out there - /swimming/ through the shallow water. For all of Castiel's state of duress, Castiel's expression remains only more stalwart. The play of retreat, the dance of a chihuahua and a pigeon is suddenly put on hold - for in the pull Kah demands of Castiel, Castiel goes into it willingly with a twist of his weapon and a launch of it in almost an effort to seem as if he's striking viciously, even if the attack itself is only testing, seeking. "The mermaid is circling us." Castiel's glare is only harsher, narrower. It signifies something - that this needs to end, one way, or another, but soon.
"Is that thing a monster of the shadows?" Kah asks, his eyes flickering off to the side now, as he considers the movement he's been tracking in his periphery. He nods though as his own view turns toward Castiel oncwe more, and he brunts to take the blow, almost finding it surprising as the blow comes light. The words hanging between them - his own comes in the same fashion, still striking out at Castiel but lacking the true weight of his more vicious blows.
Another look aside, Castiel nods. Whether the thing is gone or not, or whether it can breach the domain here - while they're both as weakened as they are - Castiel doesn't leave a room for questions, or for a lengthier discourse. In the snap of amber eyes that lock on Kah, there is fury, fire, and heat that comes a cascade off of Castiel - spreading all across to the point of boiling the water around. His weapon twists, tip to the ground, and in its ascent, Castiel cuts at Kah from hip to shoulder in one stroke - at anything in between.
Nodding his head, in turn, Kah takes a breath inward and then Castiel is clashing with him weapon to weapon once more. The heat comes radiating off of him and it drives Kah back once more, that steam rising to surround him once more in its blistering heat and savage embrace. The heat of pain comes flourishing through him as the Angel's blade turns, cutting upward through him slipping past his shield catching him in the thigh and leaving a ribbon of flayed flesh in its wake upward, crossing his sromach and chest to spray a fresh splash of blood upward past his shoulder. Even as he's being sliced into, Kah is thrusting forward with a heave of his spear, only to twist the haft as it drives in and swing it sideways to take a vicious cut underneath the swordarm of his opponant now, trying to cut him high, above the ribs and closer to his armpit as they both push themselves to find a resolution to their battle as it quakes the world around them.
Castiel's head /snaps/ back - because the blow isn't caught at his ribs, but by a stroke of luck, midst-dodge and right on his face. It throws the reared, slug-fest of a strike off-kilter, and Castiel's sword merely plays towards Kah, faint, fainter. Weak. By the time Castiel is recovered, and he's taking a step forward to stand up again, he's spitting out a mouthful of bright crimson onto the ground, and wiping his mouth with the back of his sword-bearing fist. His snarl is at the end of his wits, his heaved breath is harsh, and folded wings visibly sag as if Castiel can't support their weight, let alone his own. And yet, the look in his eyes finds Kah harshly, narrowing, and flames being to tear through his hand and spill en-masse onto his brittle sword, already preparing for the next clash.
There's almost a reaction of shock as if Kah is surprised to find his blow striking Castiel in the head! Still, he watches as the Angel recovers even weakened as he is where any other mortal being might have fallen then and there. There's a look of near-disbelief as Kah has to continue their fight even still, having to deflect the strike that comes in from Castiel, before one of his own glances off of the man's armor in turn. It does not seem that even Kah will be able to withstand too many more blows from the other as they both gather themselves for another round of strikes to shake their foundations.
The reason, that Castiel is so impervious, so viciously resilient, may be because that the tattered armor or cloth over him does absolutely nothing. No, with each hit by now, Kah should feel - realize that there is a very thin membrane, a shield forged of his own will that by sheer animosity and deterrence denies touch at his behest. It has cracked, now, heavily so - leading the strike to glance over Castiel's real armor's shoulder. The roman-work general's armament splints with a few metal feathers expunged. It's exactly then that one of Castiel's wings spear the earth, and the shove from Kah's strike is used to fuel, and his wing used to push. His weapon lands in a simple forward-thrust grip before Castiel, perhaps with the last vestige of his strength, snaps to Kah - grabs the man by his shoulder, and drives the rustic blade - seeking his stomach in one move.
Sheathing the sword - Kah seems to recognize the ploy. But it doesn't stop him from letting the blow land. Castiel's blade drives itself into the depths of Kah's gut, a soft grunt escaping the Egyptian's lips as the Angel sinks that blackened iron home. And still Kah stands upon his feet. He doesn't shy from the blade because his grip adjusts against his own, choking up and a vicious stab comes toward Castiel in the same fashion, seeking the thinnest cracks of that Roman curiass striving to pierce through that shield of sorts that covers Castiel like a second skin. His roar comes in mix with pain and with feral rage, even as that pain and rage fuels him. "Let's finish it!" His breath comes in a gurgle, gasping even as his body tries to heal itself around the very sword buried into his stomach, ripples of muscles contracting around it, waves of pain washing through Kah as he struggles to keep his feet, his breath, his consciousness.
It's a small grace that Castiel is left-handed. The blade of Kah's spear buries itself into his arm, and Castiel hisses for it - breathes harshly. A sputter of blood through his lips lands on the snarling man's torso, his face too far high up - but Castiel holds onto anyhow from the other's shoulder as his own weapon twists weakly within Kah's stomach, and eventually slashes out to cut down - barely, just barely nick Kah's knee before hanging limp at Castiel's side while he tries to tap into the very last bit of his strength.
Down to the last blow, Castiel can sense it, that his next blow will fell this giant, this monstrosity and drop him to the ground, Judged. But even as Castiel twists his blade so does Kah, and there's a widening of the wolf's eyes as he smells the blood that comes truthfully from Castiel now. "You came to battle me, on the land and in the water. The victory should be yours" he breaths out in a gasp. It doesn't stop him from twisting that blade one last time, "You honor me, Archangel. As always."
Castiel fades out of the nightmare.
A Battle In The Nightmare 250402
(A battle in the Nightmare)
[Tue Apr 1 2025]
In the Parking Lot of the Elm Street Apartment Complex
It is night, about 24F(-4C) degrees, and there are a few dark grey stormclouds in the sky. There is a waxing crescent moon.
Bellowing. The sound that comes from Kah's throat can only be called a bellow of pain as that arrow comes ripping itself free and the force of it jerks at the Egyptian's his limb jerking as it pulled by the invisible strings of a marionette. Watching as that arrow finds its way back to Castiel, only to be returned to him! Kah lashes out with the edge of his shield, bright and brilliant sparks spraying everywhere as the arrow scrapes through the softer metal of the facing as the Centurian almost smites or bashes at the arrow with the shield's edge. Reaching down with his hand, another roar sounds as he rips out the bolt in his leg - and with a heave it comes hurtling toward Castiel again, the thick wooden shafts of the arrows traded between them back and forth leaving rips and splinters in their wake. This seems to bring a slight crack to Kah's facade as well, a spark of theh animal inside of him sensing the moment of potential weakness, judging whether or not to go for the throat and abandon that dogged and steady advance - but he cannot make the distance between them and so he moves forward. Red rivulets bleed from wounds that are slower and slower to close up and heal in the wake of the damage left behind.
The arrow that landed amiss returns to Castiel near immediately. It snaps into Castiel's hand again - but Castiel is barely hovering off the ground now. Strength returns to those wings - enough that he beats them, sends the heated gulf of air and water aspray around him in his continous retreat. Even with all of his divine might, Castiel can't hope to contend with the bone-jarring strength of Kah - and it is a wonder that he already has for so long, for an angel. His stop, this time, comes against a jutting rock with a heel pressed to it - and Castiel's arrow is lodged to a harsh pull, launched straight ahead at Kah again. There is hardly any of its previous boom left to the draw.
And yet the divine might and perhaps the divine right of Castiel seems to hold its own against the brutal machine that is Kah as he marches forward continuing to push and take every arrow that comes flying at him now as the Angel moves in retreat. The both of them come down to it here, each step forward from Kah is a force of his own will to keep himself standing, to keep himself abreast. But march he does, the ancient dog of war, and once more Castiel will feel himself pulled in - finding it easier as the strength of the Angel's wings begin to wane. A heavy strike comes, but Kah seems labored as he brings it to bear, blows that could smash through stone coming too light and too slow.
Something enters the periphery of Castiel's eyes. Cast out over Kah's shoulder, at whatever is out there - /swimming/ through the shallow water. For all of Castiel's state of duress, Castiel's expression remains only more stalwart. The play of retreat, the dance of a chihuahua and a pigeon is suddenly put on hold - for in the pull Kah demands of Castiel, Castiel goes into it willingly with a twist of his weapon and a launch of it in almost an effort to seem as if he's striking viciously, even if the attack itself is only testing, seeking. "The mermaid is circling us." Castiel's glare is only harsher, narrower. It signifies something - that this needs to end, one way, or another, but soon.
"Is that thing a monster of the shadows?" Kah asks, his eyes flickering off to the side now, as he considers the movement he's been tracking in his periphery. He nods though as his own view turns toward Castiel oncwe more, and he brunts to take the blow, almost finding it surprising as the blow comes light. The words hanging between them - his own comes in the same fashion, still striking out at Castiel but lacking the true weight of his more vicious blows.
Another look aside, Castiel nods. Whether the thing is gone or not, or whether it can breach the domain here - while they're both as weakened as they are - Castiel doesn't leave a room for questions, or for a lengthier discourse. In the snap of amber eyes that lock on Kah, there is fury, fire, and heat that comes a cascade off of Castiel - spreading all across to the point of boiling the water around. His weapon twists, tip to the ground, and in its ascent, Castiel cuts at Kah from hip to shoulder in one stroke - at anything in between.
Nodding his head, in turn, Kah takes a breath inward and then Castiel is clashing with him weapon to weapon once more. The heat comes radiating off of him and it drives Kah back once more, that steam rising to surround him once more in its blistering heat and savage embrace. The heat of pain comes flourishing through him as the Angel's blade turns, cutting upward through him slipping past his shield catching him in the thigh and leaving a ribbon of flayed flesh in its wake upward, crossing his sromach and chest to spray a fresh splash of blood upward past his shoulder. Even as he's being sliced into, Kah is thrusting forward with a heave of his spear, only to twist the haft as it drives in and swing it sideways to take a vicious cut underneath the swordarm of his opponant now, trying to cut him high, above the ribs and closer to his armpit as they both push themselves to find a resolution to their battle as it quakes the world around them.
Castiel's head /snaps/ back - because the blow isn't caught at his ribs, but by a stroke of luck, midst-dodge and right on his face. It throws the reared, slug-fest of a strike off-kilter, and Castiel's sword merely plays towards Kah, faint, fainter. Weak. By the time Castiel is recovered, and he's taking a step forward to stand up again, he's spitting out a mouthful of bright crimson onto the ground, and wiping his mouth with the back of his sword-bearing fist. His snarl is at the end of his wits, his heaved breath is harsh, and folded wings visibly sag as if Castiel can't support their weight, let alone his own. And yet, the look in his eyes finds Kah harshly, narrowing, and flames being to tear through his hand and spill en-masse onto his brittle sword, already preparing for the next clash.
There's almost a reaction of shock as if Kah is surprised to find his blow striking Castiel in the head! Still, he watches as the Angel recovers even weakened as he is where any other mortal being might have fallen then and there. There's a look of near-disbelief as Kah has to continue their fight even still, having to deflect the strike that comes in from Castiel, before one of his own glances off of the man's armor in turn. It does not seem that even Kah will be able to withstand too many more blows from the other as they both gather themselves for another round of strikes to shake their foundations.
The reason, that Castiel is so impervious, so viciously resilient, may be because that the tattered armor or cloth over him does absolutely nothing. No, with each hit by now, Kah should feel - realize that there is a very thin membrane, a shield forged of his own will that by sheer animosity and deterrence denies touch at his behest. It has cracked, now, heavily so - leading the strike to glance over Castiel's real armor's shoulder. The roman-work general's armament splints with a few metal feathers expunged. It's exactly then that one of Castiel's wings spear the earth, and the shove from Kah's strike is used to fuel, and his wing used to push. His weapon lands in a simple forward-thrust grip before Castiel, perhaps with the last vestige of his strength, snaps to Kah - grabs the man by his shoulder, and drives the rustic blade - seeking his stomach in one move.
Sheathing the sword - Kah seems to recognize the ploy. But it doesn't stop him from letting the blow land. Castiel's blade drives itself into the depths of Kah's gut, a soft grunt escaping the Egyptian's lips as the Angel sinks that blackened iron home. And still Kah stands upon his feet. He doesn't shy from the blade because his grip adjusts against his own, choking up and a vicious stab comes toward Castiel in the same fashion, seeking the thinnest cracks of that Roman curiass striving to pierce through that shield of sorts that covers Castiel like a second skin. His roar comes in mix with pain and with feral rage, even as that pain and rage fuels him. "Let's finish it!" His breath comes in a gurgle, gasping even as his body tries to heal itself around the very sword buried into his stomach, ripples of muscles contracting around it, waves of pain washing through Kah as he struggles to keep his feet, his breath, his consciousness.
It's a small grace that Castiel is left-handed. The blade of Kah's spear buries itself into his arm, and Castiel hisses for it - breathes harshly. A sputter of blood through his lips lands on the snarling man's torso, his face too far high up - but Castiel holds onto anyhow from the other's shoulder as his own weapon twists weakly within Kah's stomach, and eventually slashes out to cut down - barely, just barely nick Kah's knee before hanging limp at Castiel's side while he tries to tap into the very last bit of his strength.
Down to the last blow, Castiel can sense it, that his next blow will fell this giant, this monstrosity and drop him to the ground, Judged. But even as Castiel twists his blade so does Kah, and there's a widening of the wolf's eyes as he smells the blood that comes truthfully from Castiel now. "You came to battle me, on the land and in the water. The victory should be yours" he breaths out in a gasp. It doesn't stop him from twisting that blade one last time, "You honor me, Archangel. As always."
Castiel fades out of the nightmare.