Only to be interrupted a second time by a sudden chill that seemed to infect the hearts of all those in the area, far colder than normal for the time of year. It was an insidious chill and enough to make those around the angels to take cover or seem to freeze up on the spot. The two angelic beings simply disengaged from one another again and turned to stare in the direction of the cold. Their anger at being interrupted for a second time more than enough to burn through the frigid temperature. There were no words passed between them then, both knowing that the cold clearly stemmed from some kind of mage.
Indeed it did stem from a mage although far older than either of the angels might have expected. An old man, dressed like a Victorian gentleman finally came into view, an irritable look on his face. “Oh, fantastic. A pair of angels I see before me. How pathetic,” he complained, his voice scratchy after years of use. “I suppose it is fitting though given this horrible time of year. Does Christmas even mean anything to truly angelic beings?”
“That is none of your concern,” Medeia replied coldly, “I have no interest in wasting words with a moronic old fool such as yourself. However, for daring to interrupt myself and my dear maid here, I will gladly send what is left of your soul to Hell now.”
“Count me in for that too, Mistress,” Armina added, her hand vanishing briefly down the back of her coat, before pulling out her axe. “I knew this would come in useful.”
“Can never be too careful,” Medeia answered, performing the same procedure and pulling out her sickle.
“You seek to do battle with me? Very well. Let it not be said that Scrooge was afraid of a fight.” The old man grumpily spat. “Come forth! Ghost Of Christmas Past!”
With a sudden burst of magic, a pale blue ghost appeared in front of the duo. She looked rather young and hardly old enough to fight but clearly that was not the case, as she instantly started to hurl ice shards at the angelic pair. Splitting up, the two angels would flank her, using their weapons to block and cut through the shards with a precision that had been honed over centuries of practice. The ghost’s aura was not particularly strong and the two angels quickly managed to make their way towards her. Desperately, the ghost would suddenly release a jet black tendril that tore through the air and struck Armina, causing her to stumble, her face becoming fearful.
“What is this?!” She cried, “My mind is becoming flooded with memories of the past. Mistress! She is using magic similar to yours, forcing me to recall my darkest moments. HELP ME!” Dropping to her knees, the maid began to recall her worst memories, back among the heavens. Where she had been used and abused by the males of the angelic race. Forced to perform acts that no one would wish to perform. It was where all of not only her hatred but Medeia’s as well stemmed from and a few tears began to trickle down the purple haired woman’s face.
The reaction from the witch was instant and tapping into her powers of flame, Medeia would launch a fist shaped projectile towards the spirit and the damage was far more than the being could handle. In fact, the attack went straight through the spirit, her face contorting with shock as she stared down at the hall through her midsection. With that, the spirit would vanish, returning to its realm, leaving an apocalyptic Medeia to quickly glide to her maids' side
“Armina?” She asked simply.
“I am alright, Mistress,” the maid replied, despite the sound of her voice giving away the lie. She was anything but. Instinctively, Medeia would summon a shield around her closest ally, in order to protect her from further harm, before turning back to the old man.
“That was a mistake, old man,” she ominously warned.
“She knew what she was getting into…” he started to reply but was rather abruptly cut off as Medeia’s sickle struck him hard, knocking him off his feet, before returning to Medeia’s hand.
Winded, he would summon another spirit to try and give himself some time to recover. The spirit seemed to be another type of ghost, almost like an older form of the first one. She rode a skulled reindeer, which was quickly charging towards her, the rider wielding a blade of the purest ice. Medeia, however, was more than ready and simply rose a hand in the direction of the charging duo, resulting in a stream of liquid gold to come forth and strike the pair, slowly turning them to solid gold. Just before the rider and mount reached her, they solidified completely, crashing to the ground in front of the witches feet. Unmoving, she would then simply slash the gold with her sickle, causing it to crack and break, more than enough to defeat the ride and mount.
With that, she would approach the old summoner once more, each footstep carrying the enormous weight of killing intent that she felt towards him. There would be no mercy, no second chance for him. He had committed the unforgivable sin of harming Armina for which there was only one punishment that was severe enough.
He seemed to be aware of it too and desperately summoned yet another spirit to face her. A cloaked figure with simply darkness for a face. It murmured and cackled, before firing black tendrils of fear and illusion magic towards her. All the raven haired woman did in response was create a flaming shield that blocked them rather easily. She had reached a level now where such things were merely a nuisance to her and as she reached the creature, she would deliver one powerful blow with her sickle, sending it back to where it came.
“Is that it?” The angel asked, her voice ominous, her crimson eyes locked on to his own.
“No,” he answered, suddenly summoning the three spirits again for one more round.
Unfortunately for him, he had decided to put them in the same area and with a single wave of her hands, the three would sink into a pool of liquid gold, struggling and desperately calling out to their master to help them. Yet, to the astonishment of the witch, Scrooge would simply admire the gold and seemingly fuelled by desire and lust for it, would jump in as well. So it was wealth that had consumed him and as both the spirits and their master sunk ever closer to death, Medeia would raise her hand to the sky and summon a shower of liquid gold. The effect was as one might expect, with the heavy drops of gold only increasing the speed of the drowning beings, pushing them under to their deaths. When it was all over, the gold would vanish, leaving nothing behind but the mistress and her maid.
(Combat event completed.)