TABTAB Flames that rose an an inferno, the stench of flesh being roasted on the pyre of battle. These things were not new to the Dreadnought. He had grown bored of waiting, and decided to stir up things. For a year he had isolated himself, honed his new gifts, and learned to control them. Now he was hungry for the thing he craved most: excitement. A challenge. Something to throw everything in a sea of chaotic energies. The nation of Nocturnal had grown weak since his rise to power, this had to change. A culling was in order. Let the weak die off and let the strong rise from the shadows they hid in.
TABTAB Or maybe he was just blowing off steam. Maybe he was just bored out of his mind. In any case One of the establishments within the District was blazing like a beacon within the city, blood and gore painting the streets and walls nearby. His hands up to the elbows were covered in the same delicious adornments as another fool came at him, dispatched with a head-crushing punch that caused said head to break into little tiny pieces onto the environment behind his now dead corpse. Ascalon firmly in it's holster on his back, Damian spread his arms wide for the other demons to face him. He sent a taunt that echoed no words but spoke volumes. He was ready to take them all on, all at once, right now. The vampire, the Vael... whatever, the would be time lord. Anyone of any worth would do instead of them all just gawking at him.
TABTAB And it was at that moment it dawned on Damian: Maybe the fight with goddess... did something to him. Maybe mere mortals were not enough of prey to satisfy him. Maybe he needed more divine targets to quell this need to kill within him. Or maybe he was just over thinking and could not be satisfied over the weak that pretended to be strong. The bodies of the up to twenty five now that littered the arena he had claimed as his killing floor said as much. It was disappointing and angering. Nocturnal use to be the nation of power, of gall. It was a husk of its former glory. Astrid roared in her dragon might above. Maybe the whole damned thing needed to be razed and reborn...
TABTAB In. Count to five. Out. Count to five. Repeat.
TABTAB The scene that was seared in his mind played again. The thing that haunted his dreams and woke him with a sweat and need. Her on her blackened throne, gazing at him. Manipulating her body. Her voice, laced with honey and venom. The pain she inflected, the pleasure she imparted with only a touch. True, it had only been an exchange within his mind, but was he actually losing it? He thought he had a handle on everything. There had been others that had approached him, propositioning him with fake fantasies of unmatched nights. He did not react in any way, even if he had actually wanted to. Her kiss had always filled his mind at those times. The tear or razor and thorn that created the permanent wounds that covered his wrists and neck. The same wounds that itched every time there was an actual challenge. They had not reacted since... that stupid valkyrie that got drunk on power and fell from grace. And of course there were... other versions of that meeting within his mind that played from time to time. Sometimes he would catch glimpses of the Lilith he remembered before her ascension, sometimes they would straight up ********, sometimes they would straight up fight to the death. In any regard he hated it and loved it at the same time. He loved the feeling he got from it, hated that it was a thing.
TABTAB In. Count to five. Out. Count to five.
TABTAB The b***h before him screamed in agony again, then in curses. She called him 'betrayer' and 'false one'. She was an acolyte of Lilith. She was hanging by wrist retraints on a post in the middle of the deity's church of sorts, as were others that thought they were strong. The fools were strung up, barely coherent between the flows of pain and pleasure that coursed like a tide so long as they were conscious. He raised an eyebrow at the woman. "You think yourself worthy of her affections simply because you ******** and murder..." He murmured to himself, actually astonished. The chain that coiled around her body slithered to cover her mouth as she began to shout again.
TABTAB"You have no idea what she embodies, do you? Pain in the right amounts, pleasure in the right amounts. They create need. Need creates power over the needing. That power, that thing you don't understand, is what her gift truly is. Simply ******** and killing is... boring." He smirked softly and the chain moved, its pointed top stabbing her in the neck. "But you will now. Know what falsehoods you believed in. Know what you actually were begging to receive." Her eyes went wide, then glazed over as the wave her her entire body. They would never know the true pleasure She could bring, but this would be something... somewhat comparable. Everyone on display would suffer the same fate: forever chained to their prisons within the confines of Lilith's Church, forever locked in a cycle of being overwhelmed by the waves of ecstasy, then of unimaginable agony. So far there were twenty bodies on the display, and his body gorged itself on their suffering. Astrid flying in the skies high above like a vulture circling a dying beast, he knew there would be one of two paths from here: Either he would be approached... or he would turn the scene here into a scene stretching the entire city.
TABTAB"text"
Energy 2,050/2,050 Pain Points 400/ 400 Eye for an Eye Charge 0% Stats Strength: 14 | Speed: 4 | DR: +2 | Damage Boost: 0 EquipmentAscalon and Svalinn
Passives
• Gene Mod: Speed <-> Strength Allows a person with the mod to convert their speed to strength or strength to speed twice a fight. • Gene Mod: Regeneration (Has Both Health Regeneration and Energy Regeneration Mod INDIVIDUALLY) Allows for faster healing or energy recovery. One or the other not both. This could possibly be used in place of a cleric for add on's from mechanists or as passive skills to regain health or energy while inactive. Regeneration is simple, similar to the Nephilim's, in terms of healing. Does not work for people with Regenerative Capabilities. Energy Regeneration is a bit different. Depending on your rank, you gain a flat amount. Novice = 25, Adept = 50, Expert = 75, Master = 100, Sage = 125 • Gene Mod: Energy Boost Increases base energy by 250 per rank. If you received this at Master Rank, it still counts from Trainee Rank.
• Buffs from dreadnoughts to ally have a special property when coming into combat with holy attacks. The Dreadnought's skills gain a +1 when coming in contact with Holy skills, but only their direct skills.
• Attacks count as Unholy
• Devour The ability to steal the life force of another to replenish your PP meter seems almost unholy. However, the transfer is anything but. Life is pure and raw, and the Reaver understands that. As such, the life transferring ability becomes a part of of every strike made by the Reaver. Direct contact is not necessary, as the Reaver has developed not only the ability to sense pain coming from others, but the ability to absorb the pain from several yards away. The range is limited to the area that the user is in. Not limited to opponents.
Based on the skill that is used, the user regenerates a certain amount of pain points. E Ranked: 5 Points D Ranked: 15 Points C Ranked: 35 Points B Ranked: 60 Points A Ranked: 85 Points S Ranked: 100 Points SS Ranked: 200 Points
• Pain The Reaver projects a constant aura (radius of 10 meters) that seeps into anyone the user wishes and causes them rather mild pain. For every person infected, the user gain back D Ranked Power Points, thanks to Devour. This attack is fully capable of being boosted, though once boosted, the cost in power points will equal one rank below what you are receiving. If it is boosted to B Rank, it costs C Rank to use.
• Your Pain is My Drug As long as the user is inflicting pain on another, the user gains a +1/+1 to stats. The user feeds off of this pain, and the effect is most definitely stackable for every enemy.
Things were getting a little chaotic in Luimira city to put the situation lightly. Some of the locals had the bright idea that the revolution was upon us. No more kings or queens, they said while causing anarchy in the streets. What a load of horse s**t, Vylreia thought to herself as she sipped her drink. Most of these people were idiots reveling in a temporary breakdown of order. Anyone who studied the history of Axiom could tell you that a power gap was never left vacant for long. Somebody would establish power in Nocturne eventually and then crush whatever pitiful fools dared to resist.The wilder and more violent they got now, the worse it would be later. If things got bad enough the city of sin might even see soldiers marching in the streets, putting down any mad dogs that remained. Of course for the time being, people wanted life and property protected.
That was where Vylreia came in, or at least for a price she did. While she was no fan of chaos and anarchy she didn't have a family fortune to fall back on like many of her patrons. This obviously meant she couldn't exactly be altruistic about fighting back against the chaos. Though she certainly wouldn't be losing any sleep over charging a pretty coin either. That was of course because she'd be sleeping in a king size bed tonight, probably with a couple of high priced escorts to boot. Was it a good use of her hard earned money? Maybe. Either way Vylreia was going to be in comfort and enjoy herself. So for now she'd continue to sit within the plush satin booth she was occupying, drinking her cocktail and people watching after a long protection detail. Her shield rested next to her, it was silver and bore no crests, indicating that she served no house nor had one herself.
She nests, something like a spider in a web, among enough shadows that even a Nephilim would give pause to assaulting her. Aurelia Samaelson had once come through these same streets, tromping on powerful boots with a head full of devious ideas. Her hayday had been filled with performance after murky, corrupted performance. Back then, the city had a ruler who imposed order through domination and power. Back then... well the power structure was still a STRUCTURE and not a vacuum sucking everything into a hyperdense point of conflict. Everyone was more brazen without Elessia and Zachariah lording over everything. For all her worth keeping the demons and angels at bay Maria Kal had made the space for the wretched of the third plane to truly crawl out of the night. Almira herself, snow white hair and blood red eyes, runs a tongue down the sides of pointed canines, cleaving away the macabre remains of her meal. A lower vampire, feral. Someone who had no business in the RLD at any rate.
Not everyone could have a say.
Almira, Countess of Crasta Granak, hadn't been to her castle in ages. No, someone had directed her here: Johanna. Her only real superior in the world, someone she respected. Someone who could skin her alive if she deigned to fight her. Reasons hadn't been given, simply a directive to come and stake a claim for the Walkers of the Sanguine Isle, and by extension for herself. With that in mind, her shadow and her progeny accompanied her to the heart of debauchery within it's very soul. "We are expected to tame this?" Oroborous asks as they wade through the supernatural night. He rises from her shadow, carrying the shadow-soaked blade of the night and running his free hand through his identically colored hair. Almira didn't immediately respond, instead flipping the infinite pages of her memory, reading the history of Nocturne and Lumiria City. "I think that Johanna has begun her master plan, whatever it is, and our goals here are mostly to garner membership and support." A certain waste of her potential, being a mere recruiter, but her directive was given quite lackadaisically on purpose.
Give time, Almira could quite easily swallow this whole city if opposition wasn't quick enough. Given her absolute hunger, constant and painful in it's fledgling stage, and now it's driving ambition, it made sense to simply put her in place as a single agent of the cause. "Naturally, I won't be stopping at that. No, I'm far more interested in staking a claim for myself. Johanna will benefit side-long from that." The woman sees it belatedly, her night-son crawling along the ground beside her, rising to his feet with a severed arm still hanging twitchy from his mouth. He is sated, his own prey a sinewy, gory paste strewn about behind them. The smell is fresh, particularly ripe and horrid. An assault on her senses that threatens a frenzy. She simply chuckles as he releases his jaws and drops the arm to the floor and the trio trots along. Picture it: a woman in a long blue dress, slit down the sides to not obstruct her movement of course, a man in victorianesque armor, and a modern punk with tattoos strewn across a naked torso and arms. Enjoying simple night life.
While they could anyway.
Which brings us to the cute little establishment in the Red Light District she found herself in. Long before their arrival that supernatural chill that tends to come whenever a Sin is nearby preceded her, as did Lorien and Oroborous, who did as demanded of them, and scattered into the winds as quickly as they had been summoned. As much an assassin as a rebellious punk, Lorien was in the building and seated not far from Vylreia before many would notice him, likely even her. Oroborous could have been any number of shadows. As shades in the service of the Walkers tended to, he would be neither seen nor heard until his master requested him. Almira, when she did arrive, waltzed in the front door, and on her hips and eyes scanning the room.
"Exquisite," she remarked, making Lorien snort, garning a furrowed brow from her. "Be less pretentious, please." His voice laced equally in venom and jest, was music to Almira as always. Still, her heightened awareness brought her to bear, tracing the sounds of forks digging into food, of mead ramming into the inner walls of ale glasses, of the intake of breath and exhalation therein. So easy to cut off. Most of the people in this room lay eyes on her reflexively: even in Nocturne vampires were to be regaurded carefully. Ferals meant trouble because they lack control, while Highborns typically foreshadowed trouble in their dedication to dominating others. Lips turn up into a smirk, and she takes a deep breath, sighing as she goes to sit beside Lorien. "Seen, not heard if you have nothing but sass my sweetness," she spoke, taking a seat and crossing one thigh high boot over the other and casting a glance to the source of the sweetest smell in the room.
Oh, a Succubus?
That made sense.
"Don't suppose that shield's just for show," Almira speaks to the woman, her voice golden velvet and harsh with the accent of a native speaker of Demonica all the same. "Oh here we go," Lorien thinks to his master, to which Oroborous chuckles as well.
Ruby red lips gently met with cool glass as Vylreia sipped her drink once again. It was smooth and fruity in nature though still she could taste the bite of the liquor. As the glass was placed back upon a coaster red stains mirroring her lips marked the rim. In that brief moment of imbibing and returning, a new face was added to the room. Though it wouldn't be noticed for the time being. Keeping track of an entire establishment's worth of people was beyond the skill set of the Vylreia. Especially when she was simply casually observing the crowd and not scanning it for threats as if she were on duty. Of course when Almira entered, that was noticed. Though it had less to do with how she entered and more to do with all the looks she got as turning heads was not beyond Vylreia's notice. The way she carried herself and her manner of dress spoke to being a highborn. Of course looks could be deceiving, as was her own case.
The woman was quite alluring, though most vampires of class tended to be so that was nothing special. Still Vylreia could appreciate the effort put into one's own appearance. After all, she put quite the effort into her own looks. Perhaps her eyes had lingered too long as the woman soon addressed Vylreia with a question. "The shield is a tool I use from time to time when I need to, the thing is a decent conversation piece as well," she replied in Demonica with the high class accent. If such a thing were possible, it had a slight feminine twist to it. Her finger idly circled her glass while she eyed the woman. Her curiosity had been garnered, now the question was could the woman keep it?
Almira was happy to find such exquisite company in the form of the woman before her. Usually people in this town erred on the side of vicious and dangerous at the onset. At least on this side. Growing up in Nocturne had taught her that the denizens of Lumira were more dangerous when they didn't look it, that no one was worthy of trust. Almira, however, was too foolhardy for her own good, largely because she was just one tough ********. Her eyes rolled over the body of the Succubus, faster than typical mortal eyes could, yet still enough time for the vamplette to take in the woman's beauty and physique, equally well received with her knowledge of Demonica. "Seems the shield isn't the only thing about you worth talking about," she replied in a more than comfortable dialect of Demonica. As with everything else, Highborn vampires were... particular about their own version of the common unholy tongue. "Elevating" the hard consonants into something like a break in music, turning the words from simply hard to impactful. Lucien rolled his eyes over the woman as well, but didn't offer anything besides a wry smirk to her, crossing his arms and leaning back.
"I'm Almira, this is my sired, Lucien," she continued, tapping perfectly pointed nails against the table. Lucien winked to her, expression slowly changing from a failed attempt at impassiveness to one of... hunger. "What should I call you, lovely," she would ask, noting the slowly ramping impatience building in the gut of her progeny.
Vylreia watched carefully as the Vampiress looked over her body. Was it simple curiosity, lust, or hunger? The latter aspect hung in the back of Vylreia's mind, ever mistrustful she knew that vampires could be dangerous. Their need to feed was well known in Nocturne and so to was how they viewed other races. Being that she appeared human most of the time to keep people off guard it was entirely possible that she could be viewed as an easy target. Of course it was equally possible that she'd been sniffed out, one of the things she couldn't really help that would set her apart from a human was her seductive scent. Hence the question of was it lust? Perhaps it was a mixture of both? No matter what though the compliment about her appearance garnered a small lowering of her guard. A playful giggle and a smile were given in response to the behavior of the two vampires.
"You may call me Christina," she replied with that smile still upon her face. The name itself was foreign, Fraxonian in origin to be precise, something which was weird when paired with her obvious fluency in Demonica. It was yet another thing that stood out about her, and if Almira was someone who was interested in court politics, it was perhaps a name she would of heard of previously a few years ago. Vylreia crossed her legs and leaned forward on her booth's table to rest her chin upon her hands. The action causing her painted nails to pop against her pale white skin. "It is a pleasure to meet the both of you darlings♪" Her silver eyes carefully watched Lucien after he winked, eyeing his facial expression and trying to judge what exactly the pair's intent was.
"She's definitely not human. For sure a succubus if i've ever seen one." Almira didn't let Lucien's bitching bother her as she continued to speak to her new friend. "What a beautiful name," Almira spoke to her, still in Demonica. She didn't particularly want to be rude, but it was certainly not the most common thing. Then again, if she weren't a vampire from a family damn near older than her own family name, she would have a somewhat strange name too. "The pleasure is ours. I'm now wishing that I was here more for business than pleasure," she all but purred with mock bemusement. She leaned on one hand, red eyes focused inhumanly intense on the woman's own. Almira stood on the precipice all the time: of war, of destruction, of consuming whole nations. Here, she walked along the edge of choosing pleasure over duty.
Why couldn't she have it all?
Ironic for the sin of gluttony to wonder about choosing what they would do, especially when, easily enough, she could do both. "I haven't been free of the Walkers in quite a long time, and I won't lie you look like you know how and where to have a good time, so how much convincing would I have to do to get you and your shield to accompany me and Lucien tonight?"
It's a filthy human name, she thought to herself quietly. It did have its uses however. In her own experience Succubi tended to be somewhat controversial beings and downplaying herself had proven useful in the past. Now however she had to wonder, the two were certainly interested though not enthralled which suggested they were strong themselves. Perhaps they would actually prefer she be a succubus. The thought made her smile internally. More so when Almira admitted that she was wishing she had come for pleasure instead of business. The knowledge that she herself was tempting left Vylreia quite fulfilled. "Personally I find that business often is a prelude to pleasure," she teased as her gaze held with Almira's own. Only occasionally did she blink, causing long feminine eyelashes to meet together.
The sexual tension was nice but mention of the Walkers dumped a chill bucket of ice water on the whole affair on her end. Vylreia had heard whispers about them, none of them good. A vicious clan of vampires with fairhair and shade soldiers at their beck and call. It was said that some of her own kind served them as well, but it wasn't as if succubi were well known for congregating together. She knew not of another of her kind let alone one who worked for the Walkers. However one thing was true, power oft begot money. If this woman was a member of the Walkers then more than likely she might have deep pockets. So while Vlyreia's sexual urges had been temporarily quelled, her business instincts had not. Money spoke to her, as it often did.
"For tonight only?" Her voice was filled with false innocence but paired with a wry smile. Silver eyes looked to Lucien for a moment as she tried to gauge his hunger; wondering how long the woman's protege could hold in his desires. "Well in the interest of future business I suppose tonight could be free... so long as we talk about my abilities and further business of course." With that said she slipped her gauntlets back on onto her hands before producing some money for her drink. After which she slowly rose from her seat while slinging a support strap on her shield over one shoulder such that the metal hung diagonally over her back. "This establishment is nice for a good drink, but it's also filled with degenerates and loose lips so if you'd like to follow me to somewhere more private♪" she let the words linger in the air before walking off. As Vylreia moved her barely clothed a** swayed back and forth in a tantalizing motion. A nice little show for the two vampires.
After a short walk which saw them traversing several different streets they arrived at an almost sleepy looking inn with red burning candles in the window. Inside was a small lobby with a perky looking girl managing the front desk and two gruff looking fellows standing watch. After a short negotiation of room and price and the girl bid them to follow her as she grabbed a key off the wrack from behind her and made her way upstairs. They were taken to a room which had a sitting area with a table where the three of them could sit and talk business. However there was also another set of doors which opened into a bedroom. "I'll bring a bottle of wine in a few minutes ms. Kistler." With that the hostess left the room. Vylreia took a seat with her back to the bedroom and quickly crossed her legs. "Now here is a much better place to talk, and the wine is on the house. Or at least the first bottle is♪" ""
Almira was, in every way, a vampire first and glutton first and a half. As the delicious, shimmering lips forged the words Almira's ears were more than pleased by the teasing tone she formed. She'd always been the type of girl to put a lot of stock into what someone said, and why they said it. Even liars and mutes said a lot more than they thought when they spoke, in what words they chose. As it was always her goal, Almira wanted to position herself as well as she could to reap every benefit from this meeting. From the... absolute specimen before her. A hand absently moved the white down of her hair from her shoulders, falling over her less impressive chest, to rest at her back, and offered a giggle that could have been high enough in pitch to be a swarm of bats. "Hard to argue with that, darling," she replied, quite pleased with the proceedings.
Lucien, for all that he was worth, took all of it in stride while maintaining that hungry stare over the woman. As Almira peered into the crystalline eyes and pillow-soft lips, Lucien was distracted by the breasts, the shoulders and collarbone, the neckline. Things he wanted to sink his teeth into. Just as much by flowing locks of hair, hips settled snug into her seat above plump and wonderfully shaped a**. Things he wanted to pull. Down boy. Almira teased him, to which he didn't even respond.
It didn't go unnoticed that the mention of the walkers brought a bit of reality back to the little trio. Name drops like that one, or Desperado or even whatever those tree hugging ******** called themselves, tended to do that, and whatever the effect the current conquest didn't seem entirely put off. Heartbeat barely missed a beat at all, expression barely changed. Of course, it could always be the pheromones clouding her mind a bit, showing her what she wanted to perceive of Christina, but that would come with the territory. What mattered here was that the girl was at least cursorily interested. "Well, I rarely plan out beyond a single night of... activity." Not fully true, but far from a blatant lie. Some of her prey didn't survive a night of fun at all. "Oh ho ho, a freebie? Will that come with full service or will I simply be left wanting more?" Almira rose with her, Lucien opting to stay seated and catch a glance at that damn fine romp of hers, shimmying aside as she stepped with those delicious ******** A.
Almira followed behind, sure not to skip out on the vista. "Privacy is important. Take us away, darling," Almira agreed, sliding her hand boldly into Christinas. Cold as death, but still warm like only life could be. Somehow still alive even if strictly speaking Almira wasn't. If she cautioned a glance, Lucien was gone already, shotglass he'd swiped still seated beside a spinning coin to serve as payment.
When at last they arrived the location was far less gaudy, not as pristine, not as lush but still comfortable. Moreso juxtaposed against the ******** barracks Zachariah had forced her to sleep within amid the other warriors he picked out for the army. She followed closely behind Christina, Lucien finally coming back into view, standing as if he had simply been tying his shoes the entire time, quietly a few feet behind the pair, while Almira was close enough that she sneakily snuck a brief n** of her lips at the neck of "Ms. Kitler" the moment the receptionist had turned to take them to a sitting area. Missing not a single beat, she sat down, motioning for Lucien to have a seat beside her, where they could simply sit and talk business.
Sure.
"Something tells me one won't be enough to sate any of us," she spoke, voice now laced with a more sultry tone as she leaned forward on her elbows, not a bad view herself by a long shot.
