Untitled ([Novel? -*CLOSED*(M))

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Postby Seska Dragonslayer » Mon Jun 11, 2007 12:49 am

She raised the severed head of the Baron Greed above her head. She stood atop the steps into the courtyard within the fortress walls. Spread out before her was the entire encamped military force that had been at the disposal of Greed. A full four thousand men stood with arms drawn, staring with disbelief in their eyes and anger in their hearts. Many had advanced on her already, many had also blanched in terror once they got too close.

She radiated an aura of primal terror. And her eyes burned too, dimly. She took a few steps, men retreated a few steps. Then she grinned, elfin features twisted brutally by it.

"Look now upon the price of disobedience. I shall not tolerate any." Her voice boomed over the crowded masses. Not one ear missed it.

There were some angry murmurs among the crowd. The beast had to remind herself that their obedience was not with the lord God, but rather to whichever power they served.

No one knew of the Lord, and those who did died or served. Their sin couldn't be forgiven, but they could be ignored safely for now without causing undue offense to Him.

She focused on one of the nay sayers, and pressed with great haste through their number. Where she went a bubble of space formed and moved with her as men recoiled. The aura of purest evil that she put off was repulsive in the least to the baser creatures. Humans included.

She came upon a man who looked like all the rest in chainmail and steel helmets. He alone was not effected by that strange miasma of blackest fear. Instead, she swung a balled fist into the top of his head. Metal caved, gouts of blood splattering from under its edges. Bits of bone and grey jelly landed on the ground at the same time he did. She looked around, red hair mussed.

"The price of disobedience." She repeated, then turned and headed back towards the citadel. She stopped at the foot of the steps, momentarily bemused. She shook her head, remembering something. "Command staff come with me." She grumbled then started mounting the steps, two at a time.

A few men detached themselves from the rest and followed after she had entered and was out of sight.
GM Ordo Draco | Co-GM Demonic Reality | GM Revenant & Calael
And when the men on the chess board get up and tell you where to go.
And you've just had some kinda mushroom, and your mind is moving low.
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Postby Seska Dragonslayer » Wed Jun 13, 2007 7:19 pm

"You need to forget what your previous self knew of the world if you wish to remain in My favor." The dark man with the burning eyes told her. They stood side by side, looking out a window onto the suddenly busy keep. Men, armed and frantic, poured out of the opened gates into the city beyond, turning man, woman, and child out onto the streets. After being driven from their homes they were led, protesting and by force where necessary, into the general stream of humanity that flooded out onto the desert hardpan.

The Lord chuckled as he drew his valkyrie closer. He was thoroughly unconcerned by the dried gore on her exquisitely crafted flesh. He grinned unpleasantly at the parade of humanity heading out to the desert and beyond. "Such notions of morality and codes of justice as you might have once followed have no meaning anymore, now that you serve God. And with that in mind, you must learn to do what all others save for the beast that guards my borders have failed at. Rule with a heavy, brutal hand. They are only humans, forsaken by their false god." He rubbed his chin, and turned away from the scene below, walking nonchalantly with an arm about his beloved killer.

Aeyliea had taken over power here so fluidly it was unreal. Humans were willing to follow anyone who could stand tall and tell them where to go. Sheep. What they got was better than they deserved, a fit punishment for those who lived their life without any concern for the course they followed. The Lord had observed them through the centuries, and had been appalled. Even their precious Church had been riddled with rot....back in the times before all of this.

Before they had erased the sidhe and what they stood for from their histories.

He let go of Aeyliea, whom had remained quiet much of this fine, bitter desert morning. He crossed to the throne that Greed had once sat upon. The corpse of the Baron still lay crumpled and misshapen against the wall where he had tossed him. Eventually all that would remain would be his bones. This pleased the man with the firey eyes. It was so appropriate that another of his tools was allready on the path that all of them would follow soon enough.

He stared quietly at the back of the throne, then turned and settled into it heavily.

"Aeyliea?" He queried gently. She stirred, as if from a dream.

"Lord?" She replied just as softly. Fear and awe mingled in her voice, alongside a deeper emotion that the Lord understood and detested. In this special case He could overlook it.

"You will go with your fresh recruits. Take them to the border. Follow the sidhe and kill her. After that, I want you to take your ragged army deep into the humans' domain. And I want you to kill and maim them by their thousands."

She nodded in silence, still awestruck by His presence.

"And I do not care about your losses in this endeavor. As your forces fall, so shall they be reborn anew." He grinned at that. Aye, they would rise alright. Misshapen, gored and dead, but unstoppable and terrifying in their numbers. Yes. The humans would blanch away from this terrible army and die in a rout great enough to be retold in songs.

The armies of the Lord did not, on the whole, have much to do with music. He raised a hand and dismissed his most beloved and cherished of minions - and after so short a time! - with a casual gesture. She bowed and left by the way she came in silence.

Even here he could see the needlework that spoke its bitter language to him. Even now the tapestry was being woven, and he could see the signs of defeat rising all around.

But the gears of destruction had allready been engaged. He only hoped that his final act would be the ultimate snub to Fate, as it were.

What was the use of rewriting history if you couldn't alter your own? Pondering this point while mulling over the details of the latest exploits, the Lord vanished from this place, leaving only two burning orbs hanging where his eyes had been.

After a while, those vanished too.
GM Ordo Draco | Co-GM Demonic Reality | GM Revenant & Calael
And when the men on the chess board get up and tell you where to go.
And you've just had some kinda mushroom, and your mind is moving low.
Ask Seska. I think he knows...
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Postby Seska Dragonslayer » Thu Jun 14, 2007 6:17 pm

He had to run to catch up with Seska and her newly aquired entourage of the Churchs' finest. He'd been late getting off the train - detained by the porter for an erroneous reason. While Nathan had his suspicions as to why, they could not yet be substantiated. Not without proof. Unlike the vast majority of the populace here and in other places, he wasn't another of the lambs to be led to the slaughter. Not by the church, not by the local governments - in his mind, they really were one and the same. The Church controlled everything, and if one had yet to be jaded by their doctrines, one could see very well the corruption that had rotted its heart out over the last two or so centuries.

A phrase came to mind whenever he contemplated this. Power corrupts, ultimate power corrupts ultimately. SInce that fated day many hundreds of years ago, when the world governments fell and left society bereft of an authority figure, the Church had stepped in and grabbed the reins. They had brought the spiral of destruction that had started then to a halt, yes, but in the process something of their message had been lost.

He drew up alongside the Sidhe, breathing heavily from the exertion despite himself. She didn't spare him a sideways glance, spoke not a word to him. Even now, her carriage enchanted him as it had since the first time he had seen her. It was disturbing. He'd made it all the way through his life without the cumbersome concept of 'love' to hold him back, and all of a sudden he found himself becoming ever more smitten by this strange woman who claimed to be of an era long, very long since past.

They walked in silence, letting the clergymen lead the way. She looked about every now and again, still very clearly awestruck by the achievements of mankind since she had last been awake (assuming her story was truth and not complete fabrication; It was becoming harder to believe that she could ever lie about anything, but in these times - as the world descended further and further into darkness, it became ever harder to read the hearts and minds of those inhabitants that managed in this chaotic world.) In the distance, he saw the Cathedral of Demetia rising, towering over the surrounding cityscape as easily as a mountain rises above its foothills. It was a grand thing, built of cleanly dressed stone and white-washed until the very stone itself seemed to shine. The cross, the Christ nailed upon it, overlooked the city in solemn dignity that the Church itself now seemed to lack. In that massive, elegant structure lay a good portion of the hierarchy of the church.

He looked ahead to the clergymen that led them at their hurried pace. Whatever the need was that had called them to bring the strange, blind woman must be pressing indeed. They walked doubletime, and kept looking back to make sure their charge followed. In due time, they reached their destination and the both of them took up station on either side of the great ironwood doors, looking grim in this fresh morning light. The sidhe stood there, awaiting some kind of command, and such command was given with a mere gesture. When Nathan himself stepped forward to follow, just as Seska herself entered through the narrow crack that had been opened to let her through, hands restrained him.

"The Cardinal wishes to see only the woman at this time." Said the man who held him by the arm. There was a look of strong reproach gleaming in his eyes; Nathan knew very much better than to press his luck with the clergymen, even if they were the lowest of the low among the Mighty And Exalted of the church. Rather than pressing his luck, he simply shrugged and turned, walking back the way he'd come.

Whenever the Cardinal finished with whatever business he had with the woman, he'd find her again.

He'd done it several times allready, hadn't he? And he wasn't about to lose this fantastic woman from a time long gone, not now, not ever.

He turned down a side alley, and headed into the heart of the city, towards one of his old haunts. Perhaps there would be some new information floating about that could prove interesting.

*****

He pushed his way through the batwing doors, and grimaced at the familiar and and everpresent stench of soured beer and rotten sawdust. If it came to it, this was about the furthest place you could get from a classy joint. The Head, as it was called, was a gathering place for various elements of the ctty's undesirables. Would have to be, he was there after all, right? Right. And after a lifetime of failed crime, he could allready see that he never would be able to get into the classy joints, because he'd never be able to successfully steal enough money to consider himself rich.

Eight different heists. He began to count on his mental fingers just how much money he had managed to bag in these jobs, and wasn;'t very surprised to dsicvoer that he could count the proceeds on one hand. They say crime didn't pay. They were right in that regard, at least. Or, more precisely, it didn't pay him.

He settled into an unoccupied table, glancing briefly at the serving wench as she came around and just as quickly turning away, waving her off. He wasn't here to get himself hammered. He had a sneaking suspicion things might get rough soon enough. That was a gut instinct, and it was another of those things he had a tendancy to listen to religiously. It had saved his bacon a number of times, would most likely save his ass several more before his luck, thin though it may be, finally would run out. He leaned back, getting comfortable, and let his mind drift to the hushed conversations that were going on around him. It was one of the finer things about taverns; people who became intoxicated seldom learned that what they thought of as conspiratorial voices were in fact extremely loud and slurred whispers. He could spend half an hour in here and glean all the information and rumor he wanted without saying a single word to anyone, and he liked that just fine. He might be an undesirable himself, but there was a line to be drawn. He was a professional thief, not a killer.

His mind paused.

Ok. Not a killer in the standard sense of the word. The people whom lived north of the border did not, in his mind, count as people. Granted, it wasn't their choice, persay, that they lived under the tyrant rule of the Barons, but that didn't matter. They provided not only the food that fed those dreaded warlords of the norths' army, but more often than not provided recruits for the more....interesting units that ranged from time to time across the borders on their errant killing sprees.

With these thoughts presenting themselves briefly in his mind, he commenced to listening. What might be the word of THIS day?

*****

The door clicked shut behind her. Two armed holy men had walked through after leading her into this place, this office of inexplicable wealth. They not only wished to protect the man whom dwelt here most of the day long, but wished to prevent her from leaving before the Cardinal himself dismissed her.

And he sat behind a light colored teak desk in a leather desk chair that she strongly doubted many of the rich would be able to afford. Miniature statuary stood on the top of his desk, depicting the Virgin Mary and Christ, and the cross. A handful of paper was scattered in a clearly organized mess in front of him, and he looked up from this as she entered, his face seeming to radiate warmth.

Ackward though her unnaturally sight might be, she had little trouble identifying how false that appearance was.

"Please, do come and sit. Make yourself comfortable in my presence, my daughter." He said kindly. He gestured to one of two leather chairs that were placed in front of his desk. She noted that these were smaller and would keep their occupants just a slight bit lower than the Cardinal himself; something clearly intended for its psychological effect. The sidhe didn't know the word psychological, but the concept of it would be easily grasped, and its use in this situation equally understood.

She crossed the room slowly, taking in everything at the same time her blank eyes stared straight forward. She spotted many things out of the ordinary with the room - things people of ordinary sight would surely miss.

"What do you want of me?" She queried as she took her seat. The Cardinals face split in a slight frown that was nevertheless covered up in an eyeblinks' time.

"As Gods' servant, and as others of my ilk that you've chanced to meet before getting here have come to know..... Well. Lets just say that the Church has something to gain with you. We would like your help." The Cardinal said. There was a hint of ice in the words, but like the frown, it was there and gone quick. She caught it, regardless.

Seska leaned to one side of her seat. "I've worked for you before, the Church anyway. Yon priest at the border didn't really believe what I told him. I dare say I don't expect much better from you." She said, coldly. A dangerous light flickered in her eyes. Ah, yes. The Church. Her temporary amnesia, for that most certainly had to be the only reason she had spoken to any member of the Church since her awakening.

The nature of the beast was well disguised. She did not count either the Church or its members among her friends.

"Yes," He replied dryly, "you have."

"As I understand it, my kind are dead." Not a question.

"Yes."

"Then there could be no possible use for me, to you."

"On the contrary. These are end times-" He began. The door leading into his office opened, and a holy man hurried through it. The Cardinal opened his mouth to scold the man, but he closed his mouth after the man had whispered into his ear, and then hurried out with equal haste.

The Cardinal sat there, silent for a time. Finally, he stirred.

"You must excuse me, Seska. Duty calls. I must ask that you not leave the city until I can get ahold of you again; 'tis very important that we speak.

"There's just something that demands my attention."

He stood up, and hurried out of the room, robes billowing behind him. After he had left, the two armed men whom had escorted her here entered the room, and stood silently. She looked at them with a scowl on her face, then walked between them. The turned and followed.

Not leave the city......riiiiiiiight.

*****

The back of his chair rested on the rear wall of the tavern. He had begun to doze - boring stuff today.

His siesta was cut abruptly as a man slammed through the batwings, shouting something.

He blinked the sleep back, and listened.

And blinked again, and tried to hear what was said one more time just to be certain he had heard correctly.

Thinking back on it, it was actually a fairly good reason for the panic that hit the tenants of that bar, just then.
GM Ordo Draco | Co-GM Demonic Reality | GM Revenant & Calael
And when the men on the chess board get up and tell you where to go.
And you've just had some kinda mushroom, and your mind is moving low.
Ask Seska. I think he knows...
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Postby Seska Dragonslayer » Tue Jun 26, 2007 12:08 am

PART TWO

BLACK DAYS


"Whatsoever I've feared has come to life
Whatsoever I've fought off became my life
Just when everyday seemed to greet me with a smile
Sunspots have faded
And now I'm doing time
Now I'm doing time
Cause I fell on black days
I fell on black days
How would I know
That this could be my fate?"

Fell On Black Days
-Soundgarden


"Ride the apocalypse
Coming through the city side
Fallen angel no need to hide
All bodies collide and fate decides
Where vengeance hits
Where our love will fit
I can't find your face
I can't see a trace
In a world coming to a close."

Heart In The Hand Of The Matter
-And You Will Know Us By The Trail Of Dead


" Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice."

Fire And Ice
-Robert Frost
GM Ordo Draco | Co-GM Demonic Reality | GM Revenant & Calael
And when the men on the chess board get up and tell you where to go.
And you've just had some kinda mushroom, and your mind is moving low.
Ask Seska. I think he knows...
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Postby Seska Dragonslayer » Fri Jun 29, 2007 9:49 pm

-Screw this noise. I've something better in mind...-
GM Ordo Draco | Co-GM Demonic Reality | GM Revenant & Calael
And when the men on the chess board get up and tell you where to go.
And you've just had some kinda mushroom, and your mind is moving low.
Ask Seska. I think he knows...
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Postby Seska Dragonslayer » Thu Jul 05, 2007 11:09 pm

All along the outer arc, through its cities and border fortresses, across chasms of mind defying depth and raging rivers and parched, lifeless deserts boomed the drums of war.

All along the arc itself, along the very fringes of their previous realm of influence, the flames of war began to spread, and in the wake of this tidal force could nothing stand.

Nothing.

*****

One black booted foot stepped onto cold stone, stone that had been shaped by hands far more talented and knowledgeable than any left in this world.

Save one.

And this lone figure of a man, wearing a close fitting black leather jacket (pilfered from the remnants of the Old People, those who came before the tumult that had heaved this world into its current state of ruin), jeans of the same color to match boots and jacket and eyes hidden behind Ray-Ban glasses (also pilfered from those most hallowed haunts) walked on. This was a scene of a different kind of desolation. It was one he himself had written, play by play from its finish to its end. And now, walking alone on a bridge in the middle of nowhere (even now realizing that his nemesis-to-come had passed this way), it was time to play his part.

Time to come from the closet of darkness and let his name be spoken among the children of man. At least...as long as the children of man and man itself endured.

He looked across the impressive gulf, the span of man-made stone the only thing between life and a drop into a mind-numbing abyss. The humans stood atop their wall, guns leveled. The results of their grim work lay all along the bridge, starting some fifteen feet ahead and ending at the very gates they defended. The man grinned nastily, looking through tinted lenses at the corpses of the men and the women, the children and the old - all driven from their homes and whipped into a religious fervor that dampened their thoughts to a mere drone in the background. It had made them compliant with the loss of their lives. In fact, many had continued onward after being wounded, only to be killed later.

And all of them were for naught, merely an amusing act in a show that had gone on far too long. Their purpose had been simple: To die. The stench of their blood, coagulating on the bare stone, paled in comparison to the spiritual power their passing had engendered. The man, nameless, began his walk to the other side of the bridge, passing the corpses an hour since dead. Flies rose in swarms as he passed these victims at the furthest approach. He paid them little mind.

It wasn't until he was halfway across that they began firing. The whip-crack of rifle fire echoed hollowly in the chasm below, the mosquito whine of bullets ricocheting a pleasant sound to his ears. He grinned, the air before him shimmering like a heat mirage as bullet after bullet bounced harmlessly away - silly humans! - and his progress continued unimpeded.

The bodies drifted past. He crossed the bridge, coming to rest only once his feet touched the solid ground at the far side of the chasm, long since unharrassed by the vain defense of the humans.

Or not yet, it would seem. The muzzle of a cannon appeared in an opening in the wall directly above the gate. The man grinned, his sunglasses reflecting the light of the rising sun wickedly.

"Trouble me not with your useless equipment, humans. It failed your great-great-great-great and so on grandfathers in their battle with me, and it will avail you little more than they." He growled. The voice was low, but it carried. It carried very well, and every man on that wall heard it as clear as day.

The man in black was lost amide a cloud of dust and smoke and fire half a second later as a human finger, unimpressed by the apparent show of bravado from this stranger, this interloper, pulled the trigger. And there was a great thunder.

*****

Alexander, the Great to his friends foolish and childish glee and delight, had debarked from the wall before the dark man had begun his hajj into the blighted wastelands of the dead. His complexion had gone pallid in the face of such an atrocity, had gone numb in body, mind and spirit. Because what he had participated in just minutes ago had been little else than a slaughter...but a slaughter was what he had been trained to.

The Church and the local government had trained him and many of his peers to the sword and gun. He was a killer, a defender of the peace, and thus had he always thought himself. It had been his pride and his joy to serve as a peacekeeper in these troubled times....but this hadn't been peace keeping.

The way their 'enemy' had attacked...it wasn't natural. It was almost exactly - was exactly - like fighting an unarmed man. A blind unarmed man, completely incapable of defending themselves. The people whom had crossed that bridge, the ones that had thrown their body repeatedly at the gate as if it would open before their body's weight...the ones that clawed at it, bit it, beat their heads against it until the blood flowed freely from hand and foot and mouth and head...

He'd had to get away. Something was eerie and unsettling about the whole thing. Something not in the strictest sense of thing, of this world. And the thought of it (and the dead shall rise from the grave...) sent shivers up and down his spine. And nearly blinded him with terror.

He didn't even look up when the next round of gunfire echoed harshly over the silent city, a city in waiting. Just kept walking, face down, eyes down.

He pushed an errant lock of dark hair from his eyes as he tried to gather his wits and plumb the depths of his soul for answers. He was so lost inside himself that he didn't look up when the big cannon they kept up there was fired.

Even then, things didn't seem so bad. Weird, even to the extent that he could see the hidden thread of evil in things, but business as usual all the same.

The tall man kept walking down the street, heading to the central throughfare with his great blade on his back and a gun at his hip.

It wasn't until the shattering sound filled his entire world - that of the entire village and its guarding fortress - that he realized his darkest nightmare had really come true.

*****

The dust and ash cleared slowly, drifting and dropping into the chasm behind. When it had gone, the man they had allready dismissed as dead still stood. Stood on thin air over a crater that came deadly close to striking the ancient bridge. But even that held.

The man with his unruffled, undisturbed clothing and glasses, stood with a single finger raised. His middle one.

"Ever the fools to think that time changes all. I demand these gates be opened to admit my divine presence!" He roared now, anger evident in his voice. It was a false emotion; little if anything ever angered the man with the burning eyes. But anger sparked fear, and fear sparked stupidity in these monkeys.

"Satan be gone, for it is written!" Cried one angry man, dressed in the attire of the church. "Descend back unto Hell from whence thou hast come!" He cried defiantly again. As a response, the man merely laughed coldly.

"I haven't traveled all this way to merely be turned back by a puppet of a priest that thinks his work is that of God! Open. These. Gates. Or I will do it myself."

There was tense silence, but the gates did not move. The dark man slowly settled into the bowl of the crater, tiring greatly of these fools. His finger and the hand it belonged to dropped to his side.

"Then witness the power I have drawn here, and watch the works of My power."

"The grace of God will protect us from your wicked sorcery, demon." The priest cried out, almost in triumph.

"We'll see."

There was no flashy magic circle. No inane incantation, no words, no motions. The air merely took on that charged, slightly greasy feel such as that before a bad thunderstorm. All those on the wall felt it, and would probably have begun their retreat at the moment if the wall - the entire wall - hadn't bucked once as if by a great earthquake. The Lord drew upon the latent power of the recently deceased, combining it with his own twisted, diseased power so that it became one flow, one corruscating, twisting mass of blue-black power. It was visible to his eyes, and his alone, and it was a thing of beauty....a thing to behold in awe.

"Cursed is the ground for thy sake; in sorrow shalt thou eat of it all the days of thy life. In the sweat of thy brow shalt thou eat bread till thou return unto the ground; for out of it wast thou taken: for sut thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return." He growled, the roar of certain death rising unbearably at the last.

Before the priest could offer his retort, the world was bathed in fire and the city wall blasted unto the heavens.

Even before the dismembered bodies and blasted stone began to rain down, the wolves and beasts from the other side of the bridge had begun their headlong rush. The time of feeding and killing had come at last.

And of the Lord, he merely stood and watched at the timbers and stones and bodies came down like a heavy rain, killing more with their passage but ultimately painting a picture of such beautiful destruction that even his mind failed to bring words to mind for it.

As the werewolves and creatures of his own dark devising swarmed past, he turned away from the burning wreckage and faded. His presence was no longer necessary. Now the real blood letting could begin, and in his name proper.
GM Ordo Draco | Co-GM Demonic Reality | GM Revenant & Calael
And when the men on the chess board get up and tell you where to go.
And you've just had some kinda mushroom, and your mind is moving low.
Ask Seska. I think he knows...
User avatar
Seska Dragonslayer
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Joined: Wed Sep 25, 2002 5:00 pm
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Postby Seska Dragonslayer » Sat Jul 07, 2007 9:27 pm

He opened his eyes, and was immediately assaulted by an entire universe of pain. Amazing, really, given that his head was so small and the universe so large - nevertheless, someone had managed to cram a world of hurt in there.

And for a long few minutes, with the secondary explosions (Other powder kegs, likely, his mind thought faintly yet distantly) rumbling in the background, he could see nothing but brilliant white after-images. For a minute he thought himself blind, but slowly Alexander realized that it was just what it seemed: Afterimages of an impressively powerful explosion. Slowly he reached back to the greatest source of his pain. His hand came from the back of his head, and as the blinding white of whatever it had been faded, he saw that his hand was covered in bright red blood.

At that, it seemed as if various systems in his brain suddenly flared to life, having been temporarily disabled. He'd been walking from the wall, he remembered that clearly. And then the world had turned into an angry engine of pained sound and heat. And then something had struck him hard in the back of the head, and he'd blacked out.

Looking around, it didn't take much imagination to know what had hit him. The houses along this narrow side street were fairly decimated, pieces of timber sticking from walls and roofs, holes in those very same walls and roofs showing where the stones from the city wall had passed unchecked.

His eyes roamed at the carnage and fixed on a man, his head missing, impaled on a lamp post high through his chest. His head was fifteen feet or so away, lifeless eyes staring at nothing. These occupied his attention for a moment, before he wended his way through the destruction to the wall.

Where it should have been, anyway. Where the gate had been was nothing but a twisted mass of steel and stone, wood and corpse. Fires burned here and there - all over the place, really. The odd moan of a pained, dying man or woman could be heard from all around and, in some cases, under the debris. Seeing this, Alexander got to his feet, shaky at best, and looked back the way he had come. He could see through the smoke and heat-haze coming from the smoldering fires, could see the bridge and what was on it. What was, in fact, running across it in hordes. It made his blood freeze in its veins.

He fumbled at the hilt of his great big bastard of a sword, its wicked curved edge gleaming in the sun. Both hands gripped it as he stared and faced these beasts that came a-running, and he realized how fae his actions were. Of the entire contingent that had guarded the walls, only he now stood baring a weapon against the oncoming horror. If there were others, they were not within his sight.

Realizing that to stand and fight would mean a most certain death, and quite probably an agonizing and long one, he turned on his heels and began to run down the detritus littered street toward the main thoroughfare. He hadn't gotten very far before the first howl of pursuit began, and if the sight of the wolves and things running across that bridge (and in some cases shambling) hadn't froze his blood, the sound of one of them in hot pursuit did very, very well.

*****

Aeyliea came to.

She had been left standing on the ridge overlooking the bridge and gorge and city, under the direction of the Lord to not interfere in the opening acts. In fact, she'd had little choice in the matter. Though she would have followed and order the Lord gave her, he had saw fit to still her, remove her from time, or simply put her to sleep on her feet. She had slept through the opening blood bath, had slept through the cannon and the guns and the final, ripping explosion that opened the path that had been barred.

But now she was awake, slightly muzzy as if coming from a deep sleep, but awake all the same. She blinked her eyes, and had to still an immediate impulse to plunge her fingers beneath the rawhide skirt and work herself into a different kind of frenzy. What lay in front of her was carnage on a new level, something she'd yet to experience. It filled her with a carnal desire that was almost frustrating even in those few moments since it had lit itself in her belly. All that death, and she had not partaken of it.

It held the hallmark of divine work, though, and that was enough. Whatever pleased the Lord pleased her as well. So instead of dwelling on the deep flames in her belly, rather than concern herself and mope with the loss of the fight, she began her descent into a chaotic battle that was far from over.

For on the bridge below all the minions of the Lord now strode in triumph, crying their victory even before they began their part of the slaughter. Werewolves, humans, vampyric beasts and other nameless horrors, even some of the shambling dead from the North....all went forward.

And so did she, with great haste and a great, great need.

To feed, to fornicate, and most pressing of all, to kill. In Gods name, you must understand. In Gods name.
GM Ordo Draco | Co-GM Demonic Reality | GM Revenant & Calael
And when the men on the chess board get up and tell you where to go.
And you've just had some kinda mushroom, and your mind is moving low.
Ask Seska. I think he knows...
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Seska Dragonslayer
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Postby Seska Dragonslayer » Sun Jul 08, 2007 9:59 pm

Something struck Alex from behind, and it was a hard, unfriendly strike. Claws glanced off of chainmail, hung on his strongly built frame. As he stumbled forward, he rolled, coming up to his feet, shaky but as ready as he could be.

Through vision that swam he saw a werewolf, once human but horribly deformed by the process which made it. Its face was, ironically enough, wolf-like, but all else was human save for the savage claws on its fingers and bare feet. It snarled at him and dove forward with a great burst of speed, lashing and catching unprotected flesh on his left forearm. He had raised them to fend off the blow, and received deep gashes there. If he hadn't sacrificed his arm to fend the blow off, likely he would have had no face.

Staggering from the attack, he brought his blade into a ready position. It was tough to do, his head still reeling from whatever had bashed him in the back of the skull. But there was enough of his sense about him to fend off the next savage attack with the flat of his blade, enough more to hit the beast in its face with the same flat of his weapon. Blood fountained from the beasts nose, but it was a small trouble compared to its head being cut clean from the body with a simple stroke.

Panting, Alexander leaned on his blade, its point jabbed into the ground to give support. The whole scene had taken maybe five seconds - the damned things were fast, and that was putting it mildly. The only way to defeat one was to be faster still, and it had been a close thing. He looked blearily at the fresh river of blood pouring from the wound on his left forearm, grimaced at the sight of pink-white bone glaring from the depths of the three lateral slashes its claws had made. It didn't matter now, though. He'd been wounded but he could still escape, still had enough of him left to fight his way out if need be. The thought made his color drain away, though...to think of the mortal peril he was in now.

And he'd joined the army out of pride and patriotism and, mostly, because he was good at the soldiering life. But he'd never fought in a war, and as far as he knew there were none among his unit that had fought before either.

This attack was completely out of the blue, even if it was only to be expected. In these dark times, things had been in suspended animation for a century, and it was merely the breaking of the dam now....

He gathered his wits, and continued up the street at a more sane pace, noting that the destruction from the blast a half mile behind him was gradually disappearing. He moved through an empty street, listening to the screams and howls and roars rising behind him, and almost lost his head. Again.

A spear point, whetted so bright it seemed to glow, hovered and inch over his throat. A man, dressed in similar attire as himself but far less muscular and a touch younger as well, glared balefully at him for a moment, then lowered the spear.

"Alex! It is Alex, right? Right?! Come, come....we have to get inside before another group comes through."

Alex stared speechless at the man for a short second or two - the spear wielder did not, in fact, remain in the mouth of the alley even a half second longer than it took to speak what he spoke, before following. The alley was narrow and led to a door set at the very far end. Alexander did not like this; a dead end and no escape if the enemy were to attack in great numbers. The door was open, held open by the same man.

"Get inside quick, before they see us!" The man hissed in a low voice.

Alex followed, the door snicking shut behind him.

*****

It was dark inside, but not pitch black. A single candle burned, revealing a room fairly filled with young men at arms, their weapons set on the floor beside them or laid across their knees. In the background, outside the circle of light, Alex saw some civilians huddled in a corner, their eyes panicked and desperate.

He recognized most of the faces. While he couldn't recall all of their names, he knew enough of them, and the others by their nicknames. Every single eye in the room was filled with a deep, ancestoral terror.

The man with the spear he knew simply as 'Ice'. He was a man of some repute, but the guards of the gate and walls seldom had a chance to interact with those from the fortress that overlooked all of it. Usually the men of those high places were boys of rich families, put there to keep them from harm. He strongly doubted that Ice was of this caste of men. Men of that kind tended to drop their weapons and run in the face of danger.

"We need to leave this place. If they catch us here, we will die, and it won't be painless."

The man whom had spoke was a leathery old bastard, lean of frame and scarred something fierce. Alex recognized him immediately, he was The Gunney. No one knew his real name, but even if they did they wouldn't have called him by it. No one here had seen fighting with the...things...from the northern wastes, but this man had fought against rebellion some years past. Of all of them, Alex included, he seemed the most calm despite his fear.

"They are already at the fortress, though." Ice whispered, disbelieving. The Gunney merely shrugged. "Shit happens. Its apparent they've had this one planned for a while - this city is allready lost. All we can do is get the fuck out with our tails between our legs and hope we all make it to the southern regions before they do." The Gunney said gravely. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, leaning against a supporting post in this apparent storeroom.

Alex moved deeper into the room, and noted other faces. Jamison, the Slinger, Eddie, the Quiet Man, Charlie....half a dozen in all, not counting himself nor the civvies cowering in the back. "We could try to sneak through the eastern pass and loop back around to one of the roads leading south to Demetia?" He ventured. Faces swiveled to look at him, but they for the most part seemed dead. Only the quiet man and the gunney looked back intently.

"Through the woods? With these things wandering around? There's no-" Eddie began, but was waved to silence by the gunney. He lapsed back into silence.

"Die we might, but we will certainly die here." He paused, and let the silence betray the nightmare outside. There were screams of agony and death all around them....lots of them. They could hear no sounds of fighting, so either all the others were dead, and they were the only ones left....or they had all dropped their weapons and fled. "I don't give a flying fuck if you all want to stay here and die. I'm leaving." With that he stood full upright, and pushed through the others to the door. Alex fell in behind him wordlessly. He waited for a moment, then left, Alex hot on his heels.

After a few seconds, as if they had all been weighing the odds in their heads and had suddenly found that the scales were balanced more to the side of get the fuck out of here, they moved as one man and followed.
GM Ordo Draco | Co-GM Demonic Reality | GM Revenant & Calael
And when the men on the chess board get up and tell you where to go.
And you've just had some kinda mushroom, and your mind is moving low.
Ask Seska. I think he knows...
User avatar
Seska Dragonslayer
Flaming Toaster
 
Posts: 2060
Joined: Wed Sep 25, 2002 5:00 pm
Location: Personal Universe v2.01.05

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