"You need to leave, now!"

Even from outside, the racket from within the church was thunderous. It was midday, sun gleaming overhead, while onlookers stood outside and watched on with horror as tragedy befell the church. Smoke billowed from upstairs windows, polluting the air with more now than simply noise. People within called out for help, while people without ran in search of buckets and water. A man vehemently rang the massive bell that was situated just outside, yelling for others to find help.

From the steps of the church appeared a robed man that donned a vulture's visage. He walked slowly out of the church. Civilians, frozen with terror or anger, watched as he walked by. The ringing of the church bell slowly stopped, as the man who was moments ago manning it approached the robed figure.

"What have you done?" he asked, "The Gods will have your head for this! I swear it!" In a fervorous act of self-righteous revenge the man reared his arm back and unleashed the greatest punch he could muster. The vulture-headed man raised his left arm and caught the punch in his own hand. The head of the vulture tilted and turned, one ruby eye pointed directly at his assailant. "The Gods?" the mask, or was it even a mask? rasped while twitching and contorting. The man's hand was being squeezed tighter and tighter by the moment. "I am God."

With his right hand Bartgeier freed the staff that was hanging from his back. With a slight twirl and a bit of repositioning, he held it like one may hold a sword in one hand. In the blink of an eye the staff had connected with the man's temple, and the man had hit the ground. Bartgeier now leaned his weight on the staff, and peered around. Nobody struck him as entirely threatening, though he was still unsure of what threatening would look like.

"Now, seeing as your church will soon be smoldering, I say we begin plans to erect a new one. This time, though, you won't be worshiping those false idols. You will worship me, Bartgeier, the all burning and all powerful." His head twitched and one eye at a time surveyed the growing crowd. People cried out in anger or fear while the church still burned, smoke now polluting the air and causing people to cough.

I can't believe this! We need to stop him!
Why, exactly?
Are you daft? You've seen what he's done!
Yes, wonderful isn't it? A new beginning is always nice.
Do you not think that perhaps people will be outraged? We aren't at full power, and we aren't immortal. What do you think will happen when somebody stronger than us happens along and decides they don't like the renovations?

"Now. Does anybody have any complaints? I would love to hear them, trust me, I really would. " Bartgeier held a hand to his feathered ear. "Well? Come on." People muttered under their breath and some even left. A loud crashing sounded behind Bartgeier, the second story of the church bottoming out and crashing down into the first. "Good. Perhaps you should leave now. We begin clearing the area first thing tomorrow."

The next day, after almost the entirety of the ashed building was cleared away, Bartgeier surveyed the area he had to work with. He determined that he had about 50 yards or so to do with what he wanted. The bell from the previous establishment still stood, as did quite a few stone walls. Each of these walls were about thirty feet long, and about three feet tall, and each led up to where the steps of the church were. At each end of the walls was a fierce-looking gargoyle, head of a lion yet winged like a demon. The ground where the church stood was now scorched, yet around it grass still remained. A few roses were scattered here and there as well. A few large apple trees provided shade to the area. Around the outer perimeter of the entire fifty yards was a metallic fence, spiked on top to prevent trespassers, he assumed. The entrance of the area was a fenced gate, which was open currently but when shut had a beautiful design that signified whatever deity it is that was once worshiped here.

Bartgeier explained his building plans to each of the civilians, and demanded that they be on their way. About fifteen workers ran about, doing whatever task they were assigned. While they worked, Bartgeier made his way to one of the apple trees, plucked an apple, sat at the base of the tree, and watched the gate for any trespassers. His staff laid next to him, and he tried his damnedest to ignore the voices in his head.

--------------------

Good luck, and have fun. :>

A blue hue permeated the horizon, though the night had yet to lend its way for dawn, the moment was drawing closer by the second. As it did, Sebastian made haste to reach the temple of the deity he had chosen to believe in, Cuzco. Navigating through the forest and unto the lower hillside, he was finally able to reach the humble structure.

From the perspective of a non-believer, the place appeared little more than a group of cottages with a needlessly intricate pattern adorning the corner of the walls; in the center, a larger one stood, holding itself as the center of ceremony. Its only relatively opulent adornment was a large bronze plate on top of the ceiling; it was standing diagonally and facing to the east in order to receive the first rays of sunlight.

Sebastian made note that he had arrived earlier than expected, and scrutinized the place, its positioning at the foot, rather than the top of the hill indicated that dangerous creatures roamed in the surrounding area, which could make travelling troublesome. He mitigated his worries in order to let his faith guide him in a salutation for the being that had given him the hope needed to continue relentlessly. He hoped that a new day would be warmer than the last.

He stood in front of the disc, his tall frame cast an elongated shadow behind him. He clenched his right fist and aligned it horizontally with his elbow before placing it in his chest. With his left palm, he pushed the fist towards his chest, aligning it in the same manner as the right. The former prince remained in that position beyond dawn, disregarding the passage of time almost entirely. A single tear dropped from his eye, a burst of emotion as far as the matter of the prince went, yet a voice decided to drag him away from his moment.

“You are far too young to be ailed by the woes of life, would you care to tell an old priest about what troubles you?”

The berserker broke his position in order to face the man that was calling him. His façade of a smile instantly showed through.

“I mean no disrespect sir, but this is a burden for only myself to carry”

“Ah, the stubbornness of those your age is outstanding. But if not counselling, perhaps shelter, and supplies for your trip? I see that you are packing lightly, but I can guarantee that even with as much energy as you hold going through that mountain unpacked would only spell the worst for anyone”

Knowing better than to disregard the kindness of someone with whom he could identify, he followed the priest into the large cottage. Three fireplaces adorned the inside of the place, although only one was being fanned at the moment, for the rest were to be used only during ceremonies. It was customary for believers in the sun god to provide shelter, food and water to strangers, as it was a form of warmth which they represented.

The priest asked almost imperatively for Sebastian to stay for the night, worried that he wouldn’t be able to make it without a proper rest. He made his way to the guest bed that was set on one of the cottages, yet before he was able to truly lay to rest, a sudden commotion stirred him up. A younger priest made his way with anxiousness towards the main building. The former prince closed in to listen to their conversation.

What he heard came as a bitter reminder of the kinds of people that could be found throughout the world, the unscrupulous kind which acted for themselves only. The young priest spoke of a man that had burnt a church in a town few miles north of the temple, he stated that this man had decided to make the church into a place to honor himself rather than gods, that the person had powers over flame which proved enough to scare the town as a whole into working relentlessly for him.

Sebastian returned to his room, deciding to sleep as much as he could until moments before dawn. As the moment prior to the priest’s collective awakening arrived, he had already packed both, his supplies and his weaponry. It took him a few hours to reach the place, luckily for him, the image of what amounted to a slave master was more than enough to serve as a guiding post.

He reached for one of the townsfolk in order to ask for the person responsible, he was immediately pointed at a robed individual with an avian mask.

Putting on his fighting claws, and with his great sword hanging from his back, he began to speak.

“I request that you stop your actions immediately.”

He didn’t threaten to kill him if the man did not comply, his physical appearance would have made it more than clear that that was the intention.

The gate opened. Bartgeiers gaze drifted over to the entrance, and watched as a man came through. The first thing he noticed about this man was the hulking sword hanging from his back. Oh joy. This man seemed to, initially, take no notice of Bartgeier. After speaking to one of the several people, he made a beeline for Bartgeier. He fiddled with his hands, and only when the sun gleamed off of a metal protrusion did Bartgeier notice that these gloves were made for a little more than just protection. Upon reaching the still sitting Bartgeier, the man spoke:

“I request that you stop your actions immediately.”

Letting out an almost inaudible chuckle, Bartgeier crossed his legs. He looked left and right, in a way that would suggest 'are you talking to me?' He shrugged.

"If you haven't noticed, I'm not actually doing anything. That's what they're for." He pointed to the workers lugging wood and tools towards the nearly empty spot where the church once stood. Bartgeier slowly stood up, using his staff to help him up. He stretched and yawned, beak gaping and arms flailing. "Now, tell me, what exactly is it that you thought I was doing?" He shuffled a bit, wiping dirt from his robe.

This is exactly what I was talking about.
You think he is stronger than us? Ha! Surely you're joking!
I suppose only time will tell. Just remember to watch for the pointy things. I hear they hurt.

Bartgeier leaned towards the man, both hands on his staff, almost hanging off of it. He looked the man up and down, left and right. "In fact, why don't you tell me your name." Pushing himself back off of his staff, Bartgeier let loose a horrific laugh, something between a banshee and an animal dying.

I'll dedicate this temple to my first offering!

Before taking reckless action, the prince reserved his judgment on the man’s attempt at acting innocent. He would wait to listen for any motives behind the masked man’s actions, if any were present. If that was not the case, the berserker was hoping that the man would go away peacefully, despite knowing full well that it was, in all likelihood, wistful thinking.

An odd feeling overcame him upon listening to the man speak, especially when matching the person’s movements and voice. It seemed to the former prince as if he was not the target of the man’s words, or anything. The man with the avian mask appeared to have a disconnection between his speech patterns and everything else he did, even though it was evident that he was directing himself at Sebastian. He listened with a tinge of annoyance while the person in front of him indirectly admitted having used the townsfolk as mere workers for his cause, thanklessly and with fear as a weapon.

Well into the conversation, the unknown man finally stood up. Sebastian scrutinized the robed being for glaringly apparent weaknesses, as well as physical indications of his adversary’s capabilities. The berserker found that he was noticeably taller, almost a head, the man’s face and body were fully hidden by the attire that he was wearing, perhaps concealing something that could cause the taller warrior to act cautiously. Aside from those details, the mask appeared to move, as if it was an extension of the person’s body, the young clawed man decided to assume it was the latter, while listening to Bartgeier.

“Sebastian”

His response burst out as common courtesy, his manners were still ingrained to him after all the time that had passed, and breaking away from them, had proven difficult, even when they were detrimental to him. Nevertheless, he was capable of withholding the second answer in order to optimize his time based on his words and movements.

Once his opponent had raised his staff from the hard ground, Sebastian made haste to throw a quick punch directed at the quarterstaff. Luckily for him, the objective was relatively easy considering the distance, and he was able to input an important portion of his already prodigious physical abilities (Gargantuan Strength.) The purpose of aiming at Bartgeier’s weapon was not one of causing damage, at least not as much directly. Rather, he was attempting to achieve a higher ground early on by utilizing both, his own strength and the weight of the staff as a method to knock his opponent away, and possibly cause the man to lose his footing. (First breaker 2 uses left).

“Fair warning has been issued”

His words indicated that the time for negotiation was past, and that a battle would ensue imminently.

"Hahahaha - urk!"

The man, Sebastian, had spoken his name only moments before throwing a heavy punch straight at Bartgeiers staff. It connected, and caused both the staff and the hands that held it to rocket off to Bartgeier's right. He wasn't exactly paying much attention, nor was his grip very tight, so the staff flew right out of his hands. It landed about five feet away with a solid thunk.

“Fair warning has been issued”
"A deathwish, then?"

Bartgeier regained his focus and shut his beak for the first time in a while. He looked over at his staff that now lay on the ground, and back at Sebastian. Clearly he wasn't bluffing. The time for charades was over. The other voices were fading as he grew more focused:

This is exactly what I said was going to happen. Why don't you ever listen to me? I can't believe you're actually this stupid. Please, continue to throw us in harms wa...

Thankfully, for Bartgeier, Archelon's voice entirely vanished. He was alone with his own thoughts. How could it have come to this? He was once feared and revered for his ability to annihilate anything that came his way. Now, some random man was actually a threat to his life. Life? Even that was new and alien.

After taking a moment to plan his next move, Bartgeier took action. His foe was but an arm's length away, his staff was quite a bit more. He would need time to regain it, and he didn't exactly have time. He pulled back one arm, as if to throw a punch back at the man (who would clearly win a fistfight, at that) and heaved. He stopped midway, opened his palm, and let loose a steaming hot vapor towards his opponent, who would hopefully be attempting to block.

After his attempt at fumigating his foe, Bartgeier would quickly attempt to make it back to his staff. He didn't dare look away from the man yet, so he didn't bend over to pick it up. Perhaps he wouldn't need it. Another look at the man and Bartgeier noticed, again, the greatsword. Would a staff even be of use, or would it just be a liability?

Can you believe this?
Can't say I'm surprised.
At least say you're as angry as I am, though!
Honestly, I don't care. Nothing we do can change what he is.
And what exactly is he?
A fool. You can tell he has no idea what he's doing. He hasn't even regained his weapon.

--------------------------------------------

Steam 1/2

He felt the elongated rod pass between the claws, his flesh hit the wooden weapon with moderate strength, immediately feeling how it slithered away before flying a good distance from the two of them. Quickly after that, he returned his fist close to his chest in order to restore his battle stance, while trying not to attack his opponent with the blades that stuck themselves to the gloves. He had been taught never to attack an unarmed opponent with a weapon of any kind, and unless the situation turned far direr than he expected it to, that would remain as the case.

As he returned, his opponent motioned to move his own fist backwards. Sebastian braced himself, by raising his guard to protect his face, knowing better than to underestimate a man he barely knew. Suddenly, a gray cloud formed in the other man’s open palm and it directed itself at him. The clawed berserker closed his eyes in order to avoid a potential threat to what could be the weakest point in his entire body. As the vapor reached him, he began to feel heat, and a fair amount of burning pain through his chest, where he had been struck. The shroud crawled quickly before reaching his upper back, stinging him with the near fiery strength of the spell that had been cast.

However, the former prince knew better than to be fazed by a spell (Emotion Based Logic), his sense of surprise had been dulled by the one emotion that prevailed over all others in his tall body. Instead of remaining in place, trying to fight against an invisible opponent, Sebastian decided to make his way and charge against the mage without hesitation.

A luxury such as a thought of defeat was something that he could not afford for himself. His quest was not something that could simply be abandoned, or that another person would be able to fulfill. He was the only one who felt the entirety of his kingdom together with him, and also the only one who was both willing, and capable of protecting the people’s hope from a menace such as what he faced.

His eyes remained closed, as the steam had yet to fade. However, he knew that it would be hard for his opponent to travel a long distance with the split second he had received from the spell. In order to use that for his advantage, he lowered his position, so as to keep his balance intact, and ran at full speed in a straight line to the front, keeping both arms in front of his face to defend himself against a possible impact. If he was to hit, he assumed that it would be enough to throw his opponent a length away, unless it happened that the man possessed far more strength than he appeared to, or the man was able to dodge skillfully.

As the fight sprung, so did the curiosity of the villagers that surrounded them. Most of them had already left their original posts of working to build the church. With that, a large circle was forming naturally around the two warriors, whether they actually hoped that their enslaver would be defeated, or if they just wanted to be amused by violence, everyone present watched attentively.

Bartgeier was preparing to pick up his staff, nearly half hunched to the ground, when his foe made his move. It was unexpected and quick, but there were a few moments that remained to react. Sebastian had begun a blind charge, covering his face for protection. A choice presented itself to Bartgeier; grab the staff and take the hit, or take advantage of his opponent's self-imposed blindness.

He took the first option. He closed his hands around the staff as the man was less than even a second away from him, and took a breath. Impact. Bartgeier was knocked backwards about two feet, landed square on his ass, and continued to roll. Whilst doing these backwards somersaults he managed to catch himself with his feet, stopping the spinning. The momentum caused him to push up with his legs and enter a standing position again, though he was disoriented and in pain.

He clutched his chest where the main impact of the charge had been. His right hand held the staff that was apparently worth the pain. He looked around for a second to gather his bearings, noticing that he was now about five feet from Sebastian. Villagers had stopped working, instead opting to watch the fight. This infuriated Bartgeier, causing his breathing to become erratic, and his vision to become tunneled-in on Sebastian.

Oh no. This isn't good.
We need to stop him before he kills us. Someone else has to take over.
What do you think I've been trying to do?
Try harder.

He held his staff in two hands now, similar to how one would hold a sword. He took a large step forwards and swung it with all the force he had, with very litte regards to where it would impact. Hopefully, if it did connect, it would land somewhere between Sebastian's chest and face. If it didn't connect, Bartgeier's momentum would be so powerful that he would end up nearly completely exposed.

The voices that usually resonated within were silent now, focusing intently on forcing Bartgeier back inside.