Minotaur's Lament

Jas

Jas

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Talos left the casino and squinted against the sky. He'd bested Zeus, of all beings, and he was feeling pretty good. His bronze skin reflected in the sun, and as he stretched, a small dribble of ichor oozed from behind a nail in the back of his head. "Asher, huh? Not too shabby."

A wicked cackle issued from within the building, portending the Celtic Witch's arrival. "You know he is no match for my Prince, though. He barely survived that reckless child."

Talos nodded his head. "You're right about that. But if I was neutral, I'd have bet against him in that fight. Asher doesn't look like much, but he rises to any challenge."

Carman's smile faltered momentarily. "Oh, you think so?" She recovered her smarmy grin, and continued. "Then let's pit your potential against my son's power."


A large skeleton rested in the ruins of a labyrinth. The bovine skull was separated from its hominid body. The wending halls radiated from a central square arena.

Asher found himself again ripped from his home. As he materialized, he was near one end of the square area, his back to an opening into the maze. Before his eyes, he saw an armored demon prince materialize across the area, his back also to an opening in the wall. Around 100 feet separated the two combatants.

They heard a cackling ring out through the ruin, and Carman's voice echoed. "End him, Prince."

Talos responded only with a grunt. "Fight!" he called in his robotic, monotonous voice.

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Amaimon grinned with psychotic glee as he charged at Asher, claws primed to rip his throat out, then and there. “I’ve slaughtered hundreds of your kind, and you’ll be no exception." He roared as he jumped in the air and swung at him with the savagery of a rabid beast, Amaimon giggled as his hand went down to Asher's neck.
 
Asher took stock of the armored demon as he charged across the one hundred feet separating them. Another challenger whom he was uncertain whether or not they had blood, but if the last one had blood, then it was possible this one did as well. Now he just had to figure out how to use that to his own advantage. Whatever he did, he needed to do it fast!

As the hand slashed at Asher's neck, he flung himself backward in a roll, coming to his knees, one foot set and ready to push himself away. He flicked his fingers at the demon's arm, seeking the feeling of blood within. If he found blood the arm should contract.
 
Amaimon stopped in his tracks and looked at his frozen arm, his smile never leaving his face. "You're smarter than the last one." He says, trying to move his arm. He eventually raised his other arm and pointed at Asher. "But not smart enough.."

Suddenly, a raging inferno manifested under Asher's feet in an attempt to cremate him. Amaimon's pain from this blast didn't show on his face, but a burned smell aroused from his free arm.
 
It was only thanks to Asher's lightning-fast instincts that he did not end up turning into ash then and there. A disc of red appeared under his feet, supporting him and shielding him long enough for him to leap aside onto solid ground. The faint burning smell drifted over him. He checked himself first but saw another. Then he spotted the slightly bent angle of the demon's arm. Possible, but he needed to test it.

Asher clenched his hand, his hold on the demon's damaged arm tightening. He twisted his hand, the move causing the blood in the demon's arm to freeze, shards of blood breaking the blood vessels.
 
The heat stored in Amaimon's body prevented any real damage to be done to his arm. He knew the heat of the flames probably did some damage to Asher, but he might not be showing it. He tilted his head. "You're quicker than the rest of them, no wonder you're a champion. No matter, I'll kill you just the same."

Amaimon broke Asher's hold of his arm and flew in the air, shooting fire around Asher, trapping him in a vortex of flames. The heat would be too great for him to stay on the ground. The fire ring started to close around him, smothering him with blistering heat.
 
Asher's breath caught at the dry wave of heat engulfing him. Sweat prickled along his brow and dripped down his back as the flames drew closer. He crouched as low to the ground, seeking the cooler air there. As the smoke rose, blocking his view of the demon, he guessed the demon could not see him. Quickly, he raised a dome of blood, shielding himself from the heat and the flames. It was still hot in his protected pocket, but far more tolerable. He closed his eyes, taking the opportunity to rest, his body rapidly healing the light burns along his skin. He breathes slowly in and out, in and out, calming himself.

Less than two minutes passed, but within the bubble, it felt longer. He opened his eyes again, a new plan flashing through his mind. The demon could not be held long by his control, but the demon's powers seemed to hurt himself. If he could just survive the attacks, the demon would take himself down! He took a deep breath and steeled himself.

The protective dome seemed to explode outward as Asher rose, the liquid splashing over the fires and extinguishing a good amount of the burning flames, including making a path out of the ring for Asher. Asher took off running through the pathway as the acrid smell of burning blood filled the air and black smoke plumed upward toward the demon.
 
Amaimon shuffled through his thoughts. His plan was decent, but he knew what it was. "You think I'm going to take myself out, huh? Also, don't think I didn't see you healing." He smiled.

Amaimon summoned two Hellhounds at his side, growling at Asher. "Say hello to my little puppies, they might be fun for you to take on." He shouted something in a foul Infernal language, the hounds attacked, their large, sharp fangs bared.
 
Asher stared at the hounds, his eyes widening. Dogs! Big Dogs! He let out a yelp of fear as the hell hounds drew near and threw out his arm, his head turning away in instinctive fear. The blood in the hellhounds' heads erupted in frantic boiling. Any normal dog's head would explode in seconds.
 
The hounds weren't affected by Asher's blood control, because hellhounds didn't have blood. They snapped at Asher.
 
Asher did the only other thing he could think of. A thin puddle of blood appeared under the hounds' paws, enough to make them slip, and he took off running. No blood! No blood! He was dead if there was no blood! He glanced over his shoulder in a panic and spotted the demon out of the corner of his eye. He couldn't take out the hounds. Maybe he could take out the master!

He turned, his mind registering nothing but panic, and aimed for the demon's head. He wasn't even certain what he did as his focus found the blood in the demon's brain and reacted. Violently.
 
The hounds ruthlessly chased Asher, their claws gripped the ground in their savage chase. they were gaining on him now.

Amaimon projected his consciousness to Asher. He could feel the pain of all the tormented souls Amaimon has taken from deals. He could feel Amaimon's wicked thoughts of slaughter and war. Amaimon laughed as he resisted Asher's blood control, he wouldn't die to him, not today.
 
The hellhounds grabbed him, their fangs impaling his arms. Amaimon strode towards Asher, smiling. "Are you ready to give up? If you don't, you'll be torn to shreds."
 
Asher glared at him. "Roast in hell." He twisted his arms, ignoring the wracking pain as he wrenched them from the hellhound's jaws leaving a bit of flesh behind, then lunged forward and grabbed the demon's ankles in his last-ditch attempt to save himself. His natural healing abilities kept him from bleeding too badly, but his wounds were still severe. If this did not work, he was dead. He closed his eyes and focused on the physical touch. Ice formed in the demon's veins starting at the feet and rushing its way up the body, seeking to consume him entirely.

Demons liked heat. Let's see how they felt about cold.
 
Amaimon stepped back in Asher's attempt to grab him. Amaimon snapped his fingers and the hounds tore him to shreds. He could feel the cold, his powers were depleted, and this battle left him with new respect.
 
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