Loyal Servant (Crossmare) (Rewrite)

Fighting Chance

Dust realized, in the midst of shoulder chucking a guard away from Killer, why Cross got to be named the top guard. These ones may not be weak by multiverse standards, but they also weren't exactly overwhelming the three skeletons. Things only worsened for them once Horror managed to free the prisoners. They were getting everyone's attention now, which was fine. That was the point. Still, everyone was bound to include someone he didn't wish to see.

While he was in the process of slamming the closest guard's soul to the floor, Horror shouted his name. He merely had time to look up before a shadow fell over him. He growled, attempting to turn. Before he could do so, his skull was struck by an unusual weapon. It still hurt but the most residue a giant brush left behind was paint rather than blood. A little dizzy from the initial hit, his delay gave Ink time to draw a line of purple across the floor. Dust nearly failed to dive away from the angled bones which burst from that smear of paint.

He rolled aside rather awkwardly, but he caught himself soon enough. His hood flopped back down to his shoulders, paint dripping off the grey fleece. He met the colorful shifting pinpricks of his opponent and grimaced. "Ah, Ink. The guardian of creation," Dust growled, having to speak up above the sounds of the now intensifying battle. "I was wondering when you'd come and join the fray," He said, standing back up. Ink only hardened his stare. Dust pulled his hood back over his head. "I assure you, I won't be so easily beat this time around. I'm not falling for any more of your tricks."

"Mhm. None of mine, maybe... But it seems someone else has tricked you this time around," Ink said, slowly walking in a circle around Dust. He trailed the tufted end of his paintbrush along the ground as he did so. "Otherwise you wouldn't be back here, fighting on behalf of yet another god. I wouldn't have chased after you if you didn't cause any trouble, you know... But... Well, this sure is a lot of trouble," He said with a glance at the clashing prisoners and guards. "So, I suppose you can consider your freedom forfeited. I'll be sending you right back to that empty world of yours."

Dust laughed at the face of this threat, something Killer would have done as well. It felt good, letting his fear of imprisonment go. Maybe Killer's laughter wasn't pure madness after all. "Yeah, maybe I'd have been willing to cooperate with you before, but this time is different," Dust told him, calmly placing both his hands in the pocket of his sweater. Ink tilted his head, awaiting an explanation. Dust winked. "I'm not alone anymore."

Right as he spoke, both Killer and Horror leapt from the crowd. They took Ink by surprise, the god hardly twisting away from the swing of Horror's axe while Killer latched himself onto Ink's paintbrush. Ink cast Killer a sharp glare, pulling against his hold. He couldn't remain still for long, having to teleport to avoid Horror's next attack. His brush was abandoned with Killer, who certainly didn't know how to use it.

Dust had no idea where Ink had gone initially, but the sounds of sloshing paint sounded from right beside his head. He had used the residue from his first swipe against Dust to teleport; His body formed from the paint on Dust's hood. It wasn't wise to look his way, as Ink's boot swung out and struck him right in the cheekbone. He flew back, but to his surprise it wasn't the floor or wall he crashed into. Killer caught him, which was far less painful. The other skeleton helped him stand back up.

Horror had taken the paintbrush. He clearly had no intention of using it, instead smacking it hard against the floor in an attempt to snap it. Clearly the polished wood was a lot stronger than he gave it credit for, as nothing happened. Irritated, he placed the brush down and held up his axe. Ink obviously wasn't willing to lose his weapon, for he threw himself at Horror with significant speed. When he struck Horror, he ended up dropping his axe.

He slammed him down hard, something snapping. Dust wasn't going to let him dominate the fight for long, hurrying to help Horror. He lifted a hand, summoning a series of small sharp bones which he lifted up into the air. With one wave, they flew for Ink's spine. Ink didn't appear worried, managing to keep Horror pinned while he lifted a hand and snapped his fingers. That line of paint he had lazily drawn upon the ground earlier shot up to become a barrier which easily deflected Dust's attack.