A reservation away from civilization in Val'Ghast where the truly horrendous monsters can be found. It is also the site of a large battle long ago between Kamilla and a Pagan known as Archellon. The scars of the battle are still clearly visible across the land.
The reservation was put in place to establish a border with which the animals could either stay behind while it slowly pushes back, or die for failing to submit to the Kings of the West.
Posted: Tue Jul 26, 2016 11:55 am
"" Blades clashing, the Shifter's body arced backward in response to the overwhelming pressure coming toward him. The weight of the Imperial Emerald Soldier's attacks were each devastating in their own right. Giving in the the weight, Kieran moved his blade out of the way, moving away from the sword's range with a swift movement before being met with yet another swing he had to parry. With the continuing onslaught, it had almost been enough to cause worry. It was Kieran who was still on his first kill, not Daniel. Daniel had taken the first kill of the day, and the second charged at Kieran, while an Emerald King had gone for Daniel. For all that he boasted, Kieran was slow to kill his enemies. It wasn't that he was physically inept. Just as the Imperial Emerald Soldier came at him with only his blade, so did Kieran. In swordplay alone, he would win the battle. With each passing swing, his moment of opportunity faded. Fatigue would soon set, leaving Kieran at the mercy of an Emerald Warrior. With a close call with one of the IES's swing, Kieran admittedly had to morph his form to evade; a cheap move, but effective. Using the edge he gained while morphing, he extended his arm by a few inches, allowing his blade to successfully slice the Soldier's throat. Stunned, it fell to the ground.
"Cheater. That's a neat trick!" Of course. Daniel had been watching. The one person who was capable of still remembering Kieran even when he moved out of sight. There was no real way of hiding what he had done; instead, he shrugged it off as nothing. "It was nothing. It was my life or his." Daniel was observant, and he wasn't really one he could hide from for too long. Coming out to the Pen was a mistake in every way. The very fact that this man could remember him was a red flag. To steer the conversation, Kieran spoke before Daniel could get a word in. "You never told me where you were from, you know? I told you about how I grew up close by in a village. But you never responded." Even after Kieran had tried to steer the conversation Daniel continued his verbal onslaught. "That was a really cool trick, you should show me sometime how you did that. What was it? Some form of Skin Morphing ability? A Shapeshifter?" Stunned, he didn't bother indulging the man's questions. Somehow, he had already known about Kieran from the beginning. It was all a part of the hunt for Daniel, wasn't it? Lure a Shapeshifter out and kill him? Constantly vigilant, Kieran kept his blade at the ready, with his eyes glued to the ground as he tried to rely wholly on his senses to defend himself.
Oddly, it never came. The attack. Instead, Daniel spoke up. "Are you aware of the battle that took place here so long ago? Between Kamilla and Archellon?" Kieran nodded. There wasn't a soul that was native to Val'ghast who didn't know about the fight between the two Pagans. The exact timing wasn't exactly placed, but historians claim that it happened around 800 years ago, during the year of the Pagans. "Archellon was a Pagan of such renown. He made other bend to his will just by walking past them. He was like a King in his own regard, and he ruled over the monsters. For years, he ruled Val'ghast with an iron fist. Many feared him. Archellon was dangerously reckless with his power, and he didn't care. It wasn't a day in Val'Ghast without an execution." Archellon was regarded as a mad man. His very mentioning was odd, because it was a part of Val'Ghanst history that many tried to forget. It had been the first time anyone laid claim to Val'Ghast, and the times filled with sorrow from each execution that took place. "Archellon, the Mad. That's what they called him, right? Until the Cordonus came. Kamilla. The two battled until Kamilla emerged on top. It's said that Archellon retreated, and eventually died of his wounds." As he spoke, they were beginning to encroach upon the scars of the battle that they were discussing now.
"As mad as he was, Archellon had spunk. Every day with him was interesting, to say the least. He was a fine piece of work." Almost with admiration, Daniel's words painted Archellon in a different light. It was almost as if Daniel had been there to witness it. Every time the man spoke, it opened the door to new questions that Daniel was unwilling to answer. Stopping in his tracks with a startled look on his face, Kieran's words were partially laced with fear. "Who are you? Is this some part of a sick hunting game you've put together? Drag the Shifter out to the pasture to kill him? I assure you it won't be that easy." Before he could ready himself for battle, he'd been flung some odd 100 yards, right at the center of the Play Pen, and at the center of the the huge scar on the ground. The ground was sporadically stained with red. As a Reaver, he immediately recognized this as a site where the Bloody Plague was unleashed. Floundering to get back up to his feet, his hands and his entire backside had been covered in the blood stained dirt. Finally getting back to his feet, he was truly able to see the devastation left behind on the area. "How long did the battle last?" A part of him knew the answer to his own question. For days, the two of them fought mercilessly across the area, sending projectile after projectile after projectile to no end. As his foot traced small craters and cracked boulders, images flashed through his mind.
A still image of Kamilla crossed his gaze, and a deep involuntary emotional response forced a blood red red to shoot out of the Shifter. Enraged at the sudden challenge, in his mind, he vividly saw the events that transpired like a silent movie. It was here that he would put Kamilla down, and make an example out of her. A challenge to rule was to the death, and this challenge was no different just because it didn't involve a physical crown. The Cordonus had long before declared herself against his rule, and had served as a thorn in his side since her arrival in Val'Ghast. Visibly, she was stronger. But Archellon always had the element of surprise. As the two engaged in combat, lightning and blood red auras filled the air. The air instantly became toxic for almost anyone to breathe, but the two continued their onslaughts on each other. As he had expected, Kamilla was on a different league. She was made differently from him; she was built to fight. The last thing he remembered was feeling like his insides were being ripped out, and then his head being bashed in repeatedly.
"Archellon?" Instinctively, he responded. What sort of game was being played here? Why did he respond to the call? "That's me, isn't it? Archellon. Archellon the Mad?" Confused, the man reassured the Shapeshifter. "You were never mad. People feared you because you were different. The time I spent crafting you in my image wasn't in vain. Sure, you were erratic, but don't you see this is what we need? The Kings of the West are coming to claim this land for themselves. Michael's creations are coming to kill off my own creations. I need Archellon. I need you."Crafting him? What was Daniel going on about? Perhaps it was he who was mad and not Archellon. Every tale indicated he was crazy in one way or another. His reputation for attempting a failed conquering was already stained with failure, and it was rightly so. This land, along with the rest of the world, didn't need kings and empires. The poor man lived off of what he could get his hands on, and not on what the kings fail to provide. "I still don't understand. You say you need me, that you created me. But imperialism versus imperialism is never going to solve anything. I can feel him, like a mirror of Max. Spontaneous, yet ruthless."
Approaching him for the first time since he had flung him across the field, Daniel merely placed his hand on Kieran's shoulder as he spoke. "This form does not suit you, Kieran. You know that as much as I do. The questions you ask... you already have those answers. In truth, you don't have any questions for me. You and I both know it. But do me a favor and look deep down. This unimaginative form isn't what I've made you to become. Who are you, really?" In a blink of an eye, he was gone, leaving more questions unanswered. His touch was comforting, like a surge of warmth ran over him. Daniel was right. There weren't too many questions, at least not ones that were important. the only important question left to ask was... well. "Who am I?"
~
Who am I but a figure of the past? Crafted in some god's image to do what? Rule? Fight the foreign kings away? Archellon is a powerful name, meant for a powerful man. I am such, and yet I feel nothing towards the name. I know it is my name on some level, but to what extent? For centuries, I have wandered the world. With every stop I've made, I've only seen one fact that had never been proven false. The Kingdoms are toxic to Axiom. The angels and demons who would come down and use us for their own personal gain; for worshippers... they, too, are toxic to Axiom. To this plane. Who am I but a figure of the past? To speak such words in front of Daniel, who is perhaps the only Angel I've seen that does not make us fear him, but love him. I applaud his work on both Kamilla and I, but the two of us were like step siblings. The only thing is that sometimes families split up, just as we had done so long ago. I knew the day she came for me that my downfall would come soon after. I wasn't stupid, but I thought that I could use her abilities against her. But my usual tricks didn't work. Not on her. That day, I think, is when I first died. As Archellon, I mean. When I first woke up, I had no recollection of what had happened. I made up every story I've ever told because everyone had a past, right? But I didn't. So who am I?
Am I Kieran? The name was decent, and everything was simple as Kieran. His life was the life I always wanted. It was peaceful, and no one bothered me. But that was just it. No one bothered me. No one asked me questions. No one felt the desire to talk to me. Kieran was lonely, without a single soul in sight to care for him. Like all of my forms, my own passion bled through into Kieran. My hatred for imperialism came out at the wrong time. Adriel didn't agree with me, and he left. The protections I put on myself so long ago to keep me from harm proved to be my's downfall. Earlier, I contemplated suicide. It's safe to say that Kieran is not a compatible form for me. He is too content with idle wonders. Kieran could sit facing a wall and still have fun. That is not me. So who am I?
Am I Max? I still smile when I say his name out loud. Max was silly. A jester of a sort. In many ways, I believe I unconsciously created Max as a way of being who I was, as Archellon. How similar the two of them are. One could argue that Max was almost as mad as Archellon, But Max was a form that I made to chase some tail, and that tail is gone. As special as she was, she was gone. She would not remember me, not anymore. I am not the idiotic man she met who changed into white furred cats in order to make others laugh and appreciate me. I admit that it might be my fiery passion talking, but I care deeply for things. I am not the man who would sit idly by while one king or the other made a move on my lands. My lands? No, not in that sense. I don't want to rule. I want them gone. All of the lords, kings, and emperors. They all needed to stay away. If they didn't? I'd raze their fields. Attack their villages. Their cities. Their loved ones. The ones they hold dear. Sorry, did that come off as mad? They've forced my hands, these foreign kings. Like a stranger, I will come and find a means to an end. As Max, I explored more of the world than any of my forms and survived every sticky situation I've gotten myself into. Max was resourceful. Max was idyllic. A paragon of his own kind. Who am I? I'm Max, and I'm coming.
Aldrich heard the first scream and turned away, covering his ears with his hands, pressing hard until his head began to hurt. At that moment he was at a loss for action, but he could still hear it, the sound of the Jeksiun Flyer Commander he had shot. The piercing cry went on for a long time before finally fading away as the beast crashed into the dusty landscape below, kicking up a plume of water and mud from impact. Aldrich instinctively shivered while hiding in the small cave-like indention in the side of the mountain as his body tried to fight off the chill of being soaked as he listened to the rain drumming on the wet stone and soggy ground. Trying to regain his will to step back out into that typhoon of a storm and face off against the remaining three Commanders he cursed under his breath and admitted that this was a bad hunt, and that the old coot that assigned him to it was right, he was ill prepared.
Aldrich slid a hand down his side and grasped at his revolver strapped to his thigh, Sophia. With his other hand he would set down the shoddy makeshift lantern on the earthen floor that the old man had given him, and then with a world-weary shake of his head and a glance to the weapon in his hand, he accepted the situation he was in and then began to examine his potential plans of action. It was sort of laughable, at how such a prideful man had fallen. Before this hunt, Aldrich was a big man, wearing big boots, and oozing with confidence from every pore. Now, suddenly, his position in the world seemed a bit different. In Nocturne, he was the s**t, the cream of the crop, the top of the pecking order, but here, in this damned place, he was as low as table scraps. Aldrich gave a nod of acceptance as if he had come to terms with something. "There's only one way out of this Al.. Show them what you're made of." This time there was no sarcasm in his voice, and his tone was stern and confident like he was back in control of things.
He wanted this job over and done with and surely the beasts outside wanted the same, and time was short. Aldrich pulled up his hood on the cloak he was wearing that was once used to block out the sand but was now his protecting against the rain. Carrying Sophia in his left hand, Aldrich led the way out into the cold, heavy drizzle to face the music. As soon as he was clear of his bat cave poor little Al was assaulted from all sides by the bone-chilling rain which didn't help matters. He had to finish this quick and get back to his little cave or find somewhere else to hide out and dry off, otherwise he would more than likely get hypothermia as his core temperature plummeted. Darting across the soaked, barren landscape Aldrich was the first to spot his opponents who were circling up above high in the skies over a crevice further into the Play Pen. He could shoot now and potentially hit one if he was lucky, or he could risk getting closer to pick off more than one at the cost of being spotted and killed before he could do anything.
Could he fight two of them? If push came to shove, he could run faster than they could fly if needed, but when he did that it really put a strain on his arms when he fired the revolvers due to to drop in his strength. In all honesty, Aldrich knew the best option here was to run and live to fight another day; hell even if he was a coward he would get to at-least keep on keeping on right? Truthfully though, nobody would know that he ran from this fight, only he would, and the old coot but then again nobody believed that man to begin with. Aldrich however, he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he ran from this fight. He didn't care much for what other's thought of him, but more-so cared about how he thought of himself, and if he ran here, he wouldn't be able to even look in the mirror anymore from all the shame, guilt, and self-loathing.
Aldrich decided to try and get closer to the flock of three no two, giant white double-winged birdlike beast Commanders who contrasted against the soot colored sky. Where was the third? Was it further in the valley or did it search in the other direction perhaps? With a quick glance around his surroundings the third beast was not to be found. The remaining two Jeksiun Flyer Commands found a perch atop a dead tree on a cliffside as if giving up the search for now, opting to wait on their comrade's return. This sudden change forced Aldrich to make a change to his plan as well as he had to make a dive for cover in order to not be spotted. The rain littered ground created some complications for when Aldrich made his jump he slipped, and didn't make it as far as he should of, thus when one of the Commander's turned the way he had came, they saw a leg sticking out from behind a stalagmite looking rock formation.
Aldrich tried to quickly pull his leg behind cover before it would be spotted but it was too late as a loud screech echoed throughout the valley. The lone Human cursed under his breath before peeking out from behind the rock formation with both Sophia and Izsha drawn and aimed. Within a blink of the eyes, before the Commanders could take flight, Aldrich had loaded his guns and already infused them with his energy as he already knew what it took to take these beasts down now after having had to experiment with the first one. The rainfall slowed to a crawl along with everything else in the valley as Aldrich's adrenaline kicked in and his fight or flight instincts took over. One bullet should have done the trick, the Commanders were lined up on their little perch, but Aldrich didn't want to risk his bullet not punching through the second's Jeksiun skin.
Starting to release an exhale Aldrich didn't hesitate and pulled the trigger to Izsha twice at inhuman speeds, two bullets cracking through the air and piercing the first commander and then the second in rapid succession, exiting out the other side of the second beast before the the fuel from the incendiary tips could even ignite inside of the birds. Just before time would return to normal speeds Aldrich would hear a heavy thunk him and once more without hesitation he would snap around, swinging Sophia and pre-aiming her in a single fluid motion. Once he completed his turn his eyes went wide as he realized what was in-front of him. The third Commander had apparently went back to base or somewhere and picked up a Jeksiun Brawler to come and help deal with the little pest that they viewed Aldrich as.
Before the lone gunslinger could pull the trigger to his precious firearm he felt a warm sensation running down his lower stomach and down his legs. He didn't even feel the pain. Auburn eyes cast a glance down only to see the armored fingers of the Brawler embedding into his abdomen with the crimson Jeksiun energy coating up to the beast's forearm. Before he could react Aldrich collapsed to his knees in a splash as his legs went weak. The Human's body jolted slightly once the Brawler yanked it's fist from his prey's body. Sophia began to shake before falling to the side of it's master. Aldrich mustered enough strength to grit his teeth and wrap the hand that was previously holding Izsha, who was now dropped, around his wound to try and apply pressure.
It wasn't of much use though, as he was loosing too much blood too fast and his strength was rapidly plummeting. Losing his energy, the red haired male fell forward and coughed up blood which began to mix with the puddle in-front of the human's mouth. Casting a weary gaze upwards to the beast standing tall over his body he cursed him in his thoughts, too weak to speak, but before he could finish his damning of the Brawler his last breath of life slipped away and all his pain, anger, and sorrow drifted away with it.
Posted: Tue Aug 23, 2016 4:04 pm
By what strange trick of fate had Almira ended up here. Perhaps some otherwordly force had pushed her thoughts to exploration, to hunt for a new meal, or perhaps her own shadow had spoken to her, pulled at her senses to make her interested in whatever could be in Essfraxon's country. Blood was already dripping from the ambitious young princess's body. She'd ran into something new. It had no name she knew of. But it was white, and it was alone, and it had put up a fight. Her body, cursed and blessed alike, tended the wounds as she dragged herself through the storm, hoping to find more of the strange creatures. Perhaps they could be enslaved, or end up like the swarm of wurms she had killed. All she knew for certain was she was far out in an area known as The Play Pen.
Great battle, great battle scar. The land almost still smelled of the monsters who had once clashed here, and it was so ugly in the rain. Even so, the new sights and smells enticed her to investigate further. So further she trekked on, feet bare, dragging through cold muddy water, sinking to the ankles to no response from the knight, unabated by nature as she sought to slake her thirst for adventure. One could have too much adventure, could experience too much and get in over their heads, but that was her sin. One she bared upon her neck, and one that itched fervently at her. As a knight most pains she could ignore. This was one of them, usually. Today she was calm as she wordlessly tasted rain drops collecting on her upper lip. Tasted blood in the air. Eyes snapped open. A familiar kind of scent at base. Not a monster, something entirely more sentient... more... interesting.
A new path had been set as Almira launched her body into the air shifting into a flock of bats to travel faster, more safely than on the ground. Almira's flock saw the body fall to the ground, a dying will in it's eyes. She formed mostly into her humanoid shape, looking on whatever had killed him. Chastiefol appeared, a spear glowing with a dark light. The Jekisun, which she had killed one of earlier, turned too late to see itself skewered. The commander turned, letting a screech free as Almira descended in a haze of black mist. The body of the monster was torn apart, arms legs and chunks of torso seperated and scattered about the entire playpen. The element of surprise was strong, as was and elder state vampire. Her eyes looked upon the corpse, ignoring the need to feed upon the dead body before her. She puffed smoke into the air from her nostrils, kneeling beside him. No heart beat. No breathing. Dead as they come. She hadn't seen him before, but he was ballsy as all ******** to be out here, so far from civillization alone. Almira felt nothing towards his death. One life of many. Men live, men die. Change is good. What she saw was something more instinctive for her to see. She opened the mouth of the corpse slowly, as not to tear off it's jaw. She bit into her wrist, the pain nothing like being ran through on a holy spear, and held the fresh slice wound over his mouth. Blood flowed freely, smelling of her own and thusly unappealing, but packed with her own energy. A bond between her and him was being formed, and she had no idea, how strong.
She'd toyed with the idea of performing the rite on someone. Someone strong, ideally, and not someone killed by monsters in the coutnry, but looking on his weapons and his physique she simply assumed one of two things to be true: he was strong adn this was an unfortunate accident, or she could make him strong. And it didn't require much deliberation to decide to cure this... curiosity akin to coming of age and entering heat for the first time. A liter of her blood now filled his lungs, and she grabbed him by his shirt. With one hand she lifted him, carrying him back towards the cave he'd come from. Already the bond between progeny and creator was forming. Carefully Almira laid his body down, wiping mud from his body as much as she could, picking it from his hair. It was supposed to take a few hours for him to ressurect. Gave her time to think. She sat beside him, legs curled up to her chest, pondering what would come. She would no longer be "alone" on her journey. She'd have a... a butler? No that would be cliche. Perhaps just a friend. A... indentured servant friend. No... he would not be a servant. More likely she'd want someone to understand her ambition, to feel what it's like to be a vampire and share in her drive without wanting to kill her. Perhaps like a partner in crime.
Unlike most "living" creatures, vampires were able to hold completely still. Four hours and only her eyes had moved as she waited. Eventually, she poked him dead center in his cheek. No warmth... but then vampires weren't warm creatures. Another two hours passed, and she still sat still, waiting to see the fruit of her effort. As deep in the cave as they were, no light could reach so what was taking so damn long? Patience was not her strong suit. Another hour passed, now up to seven, and Almira had actually dozed off. But his first breath reborn would be soon enough indeed...
• Regeneration This is passive meaning it does it on its own. At different ranks you may regenerate your wounds. Trainees can only deal with cuts, by novice deep cuts, Adept rank you wont bother with a broken bone, masters can deal with an entire sword going through your body, and you can deal with a removed arm or leg, as well as internal damage to the organs.
• Telepathy A skill that simply allows vampires to communicate with other vampires or those they have bitten within a week, letting them discuss strategy or simply have a discussion. The range of how far one must be from the other is vast, to be able to communicate one must be within the same country as the target. However, to be able to speak with them they must know each other. In the case of a progeny and a creator, they can talk to each other from across the world. The creator can also physically effect their progenies from anywhere, making them feel a longing to come to the one who turned them.
• The Rite of Blood Upon obtaining expert rank, you may use this ability only twice, so choose wisely. If someone has died and not yet rotted completely, you may bring them back as a vampire. The ritual is simple; shove a liter of blood down their throat, and then bring them somewhere with no light. Not even moonlight. If this is done before rotting gets too grim, after a few hours they'll rise up, as your progeny. Being a progeny has benefits and losses. The one who turned you into a vampire will always feel the desire to protect you, and will not do harm onto you. Similarly, you will feel the same protective instinct, preventing you from harming them as well. You literally can't find it within you to hurt them. The one who turned you can get you used to being a vampire; to the life of bloodlust, avoiding the sun, whatnot. However, you will always be connected to them in a way some may not like. Their words will influence you, and greatly. While they cannot simply 'command' you, they can make you want to do things that you wouldn't ordinarily do, and could almost certainly make you do things that you would ordinarily do. You want to impress them. They're like your rolemodel, and your mind can fall under the mercy of their will. This is the benefit of owning a progeny.
• Every knight has the ability to ignore pain in battle, even ignoring the pain of severed limbs for a certain amount of time.
• Vanguards are masters of single handed weaponry and shields. As such, they obtain a +1 in power to all single handed weapons (Jians, longsword, katana) and shield skills.
• Sunder: If using an attack and the opponent conjures up a barrier, the user may shatter the defense if it is two ranks below them. If the barrier is one rank below them, they can stagger the opponent with just sheer force, causing them to be so distracted with their next post that only one skill can be used.
Technique
___youwillknownihilism Captain
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Yui Ga Dokuson
Thirteenth Gatekeeper
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Posted: Wed Aug 24, 2016 2:56 pm
Aldrich was dead, that much was for certain as he found himself floating completely nude floating in a pitch black void. Looking all around he could see nothing, and no-one nor anything returned his call when he beckoned forth. Reality was slowly sinking in as he simply floated there, lost in both mind and spirit. He wasn't one to believe much in the afterlife, but now he was second guessing if he should have and if he had then if he would be somewhere else right now instead of in this bleak emptiness. Upon pondering this stereotypical question, a roughly three feet by three feet white screen of sort magically appeared in-front of the male seemingly out of nothing. Aldrich was at a loss as to what to say, or hell even think for in the center of that white screen was three letters in bold, "YES". Just what was going on? Was this some sort of sick higher power joke? The young human narrowed his eyes out of anger before calling out to the nothingness with another question.
"In all my life how much did I spend on women for sex?" There was a momentary pause after the word yes vanished from the screen, almost as if whoever the higher power that was doing this had found themselves in a laughing fit and couldn't answer him at this time. Truthfully if that tables had been turned Aldrich probably would have laughed as well, that question is probably one of the most least expected things to be asked. Also there is the fact that the amount added up to be quite a bit. Bold black text once again appeared on the screen with a number that made Aldrich question it's legitimacy. There was no way he spent over three-hundred thousand gold on hookers and things of the sort.. right? Regardless, he accepted it for the truth and proceeded to ask a question he already knew the answer to. Once more the text would vanish and be replaced with the answer, this particular one just happened to be "BLOOD LOSS". This little skit went on for a while until Aldrich began to accept things for what they were. Of course this question and answer game could have went on for an eternity, but Aldrich really didn't feel like asking the questions that he wasn't ready for the answers for.
The white screen went a bit staticky and began to fritz in and out of "reality" if you would call it that until it eventually vanished completely. Aldrich was all alone again in this vast expanse of nothingness. Had the higher power finally had enough, grew bored, or simply didn't care anymore? Aldrich stopped floating, and his feet pressed flatly against something underneath him but which he couldn't see due to everything still being blacked out aside from himself. Next, he felt himself become enveloped in a shroud of sorts which felt similar to standing in a lukewarm, viscous fluid. He could actually feel again: his own body, warmth somewhat, he felt alive. While standing there in the void a voice was heard from behind him, one that he had never experienced before in his life, and it asked the most strangest of questions. "Would you like a schmoke and a bloodcake?" Aldrich snapped around to see a butler looking version of himself hold out a tray with a blood red lit cigarette, and what he could guess to be a pancake made with.. blood? Before he could speak his seemingly double vanished as quick as he had appeared.
Yet again from behind him his same distorted voice called out, "A cigar and a waffle?" Again upon turning around he would see himself in butler-esque attire holding a tray which contained a bloodwaffle as he dubbed it and a red cigar. "No? Pipe and a crepe?" Aldrich spun around again to see another of himself holding again what he was asked for, but their blood counterpart. "No? Bong and a blintz?" Snapping his vision to his right a third Aldrich appeared with more blood food. Quickly his head swiveled from side to side as he looked at all three, who mind you all stuck out their free hand at the same time with a goblet of wine. "Well that ain't right.." He spoke aloud to himself as the three doppelgangers vanished into thin air and a woman, a beautiful elegant woman approached him as a bright light beamed down on him from above. She stopped just short of bumping into him with an arm across her midsection and a finger around her chin in thought as she gazed over his physique.
"A butler? No that would be cliche. Perhaps just a friend. A... indentured servant friend. No... you will not be a servant.." The woman paused while in thought, which for whatever reason he could hear clear as day inside his own head. "I want someone to understand my ambition, to feel what it's like to be a Vampire and share in my drive without wanting to kill me. Perhaps like a partner in crime." Did.. did he just hear that right? This.. woman, who just so happened to call herself a Vampire, which at this point he was starting to believe because the s**t before was starting to make more sense as this went on, wanted him to be her friend, nonetheless a partner in crime? Hah! Aldrich had truly seen it all, and despite his inner self knowing better of the situation, he found himself.. wanting what she did. He wanted to be around her, he wanted to protect her, he wanted them to reach their goals.. together. Drive, ambitions? It was hard to find someone with those these days, and little by little he found himself respecting this woman more an more. "I'm hungry.. I'll think about this later."
The woman did a quick one-eighty on the ball of her heel and began to walk away. Aldrich felt a pain in his chest as she began to leave him, and instinctively he reached out after her and grabbed at her hand. "Almira, wait!" Everything around him turned to black once more, but this time shortly after he was overwhelmed with a plethora of new senses. He could hear things he didn't think possible, he could smell things he didn't think possible, and he was feeling things he didn't think possible, and by that, it felt like his entire body was on fire and burning from within. The previously unconscious Aldrich burst up from his prone position with a sharp inhale while clutching at his chest before buckling over onto his hands and knees in writhing pain while gasping for breath. This probably wasn't close to what it felt like to be stabbed by a holy weapon or hit by a holy spell, but this was definitely the most pain he had ever been in by a large margin. His entire body was convulsing as he felt something worm it's way through his veins.
The pain was short lived however, thankfully, and he stopped spazzing as whatever had happened had ceased to be anymore. Aldrich was left on his hands and knees trying to gather his breath and organize the new incoming sensations. He could hear breathing close by, and with a cast of his gaze to the side he could see the woman from his.. death dream, Almira was it, next to him. He was at a loss for what to do. He didn't know where he was, he didn't know how he was back, or rather he was still having a hard time accepting it, and for whatever reason he had this strong sense of insatiable hunger clawing at the pits of his stomach. With nothing left to lose, he did the only thing he could think of and called out to the woman next to him, his master, "Almira.."
Posted: Mon Aug 29, 2016 10:19 am
So long alone in the quiet had, indeed, lulled the Sin of Gluttony to sleep. She didn't deal with boredom very well, and she very much abhorred being idle when there was something in the world that demanded her attention, but this was an important sort of... rite of passage for vampires. A coming of age thing, if you would. Something that would assuredly cement her status as an elder... should she ever wish to return to the world of blood and brimstone that vampires tend to reside in. To that end, this was as important a task as any other one, but one with a high priority since opportunity was rare. In her dream she was falling, at terminal velocity towards nothingness. Her back was towards the ground, but she knew there was nothing there. It was a dream she had before. Her body never hit the bottom of the boundless emptiness. Instead she simply descended eternally until she woke up. This dream meant nothing to her. At a time she felt it was symbolism. Her hunger never stopped, never reached a limit just like her fall never reached an end. But, as with most things, she realized that this was most likely how activation synthesis manifested: her brain went to sleep with her body and she kept the world shut out in order to stay asleep, so no stimuli was getting in. Logical answer to a subconscious issue.
But this time was different. Entirely. Suddenly her body crashed into something. It was a liquid, but it was clear and inviting. She wasn't startled by it but she was surprised as she floated downward, her body making clear bubbles as it broke the surface and continued down. Slowly but surely Almira's descent slowed until finally, to her chagrin almost, she reached the bottom of her sea of emptiness. She enjoyed the free fall when she found time for sleep. But now she was simply staring straight up into nothing with the weight of the "water" on her body. Her eyes looked into the blackness of the area around her, unmoving as if dead. Her mind was empty until she heard the whisper of a word, saw a white light among the onyx background. It came closer slowly, gradually descending upon her. It was bright, but it didn't hurt her to see as it came to her. It was almost warm, pleasurable as the light washed over her. At the center of it was... a man? She sat up a bit to see him there, floating like she usually was. She could see him in a clearer definition than even vampire sight allowed. His every feature burning into her mind. A second or so past before she realized it was the man she'd wanted to turn into her thrall. As the word passed over her mind it was like her chest suddenly ignited, a fire unlike any she felt. A soft moan escaped her throat as the unknown, but not unwelcome feeling consumed her entire form, enrapturing her in a way that she would never be able to explain. Aldrich. That was his name. How could she know that? She'd never seen him before. But that was a backseat to how she suddenly felt. Her body lifted and she floated before his body, still lifeless, but now minus the wound she found him with. Shadows like tendrils whipped from her body, tearing away her clothing, leaving her naked just like him. Her instinctive want to cover herself ran away screaming, she felt comfortable in a weird way as the shadows captured them both, wrapping around both forms, pulling her into him, him into her, forming a bond that neither could break. Delicate fingers traced the form of a strong jaw, of a lean body, defining the muscles like penstrokes before they were fully encased, and once more her world went black.
She awoke with a start, hearing her progeny suddenly jolt to life. She sat up like a fiend of old school monster films, absent of the aid of her arms or legs, and turned her bloodred orbs on his form, watching him launch up and fall right back down. Suddenly she felt a pain in her body as well, but it wasn't something strong enough to make a knight even flinch. No she merely watched as the fire she felt spread through his body. Like him, her every vein was very much alive, alight with a pain worming to the ends of her body. The pain died quite quickly, however, and Almira loosened clenched fists she didn't know she was gripping so tightly. He turned to her then, and finally she felt a bit at ease. When her own name was his first in the new life her heart, even if only momentarily, lightly fluttered and a blush crawled over her face with a smile she could neither hold back nor explain. "Aldrich. Welcome to your new life," she replied rising from the ground and reaching out a hand for him to take. "Come with me. I know you can feel that gnawing feeling in you, the razor blades in your throat every time you draw breath. I know it well. The hunger," she would continue. "I know this is going to be hard to wrap your head around... but stop breathing. It isn't needed, and doing so is only going to make what your going to feel of the bloodlust even worse. You can smell better, so anything you intake is going to drive you towards prey, towards absolving yourself of your hunger. I wouldn't be surprised if you couldn't hear what I do. A carravan outside, six... seven men walking, maybe more on the horses. Step one is control, my dear. I know the feeling, the need to rush them, to kill them all. It's hard for even me to ignore. But before you rush off keep in mind you can't hear their weapons, can't see what they can do to defend themselves. This is why you need to learn control first." Once he did take her hand, the woman would summon her spear, radiating black and morphing into the shape of a dagger. The Elder Vampire looked into his eyes, cutting open her wrist and offering it to him, in the same direction as the caravan that would be now examining the carnage she left behind at the cave entrance. He had a choice now, and she fully expected him to choose now. Control or gluttony. Her eyes pierced into his mind, able to hear his thoughts, keeping her own mind clear as the skies in Yuran. Weather there was a right answer or not was not important. She wanted to know what manner of beast she had created more than she wanted him to learn at the current moment. Would he seek to end their lives to slake his thirst, or settle for what she was offering instead and risk losing the control she'd asserted he lacked. Curiosity drove this just as much as her need, as his herald and sire, to ensure his survival and protect him.
• Regeneration This is passive meaning it does it on its own. At different ranks you may regenerate your wounds. Trainees can only deal with cuts, by novice deep cuts, Adept rank you wont bother with a broken bone, masters can deal with an entire sword going through your body, and you can deal with a removed arm or leg, as well as internal damage to the organs.
• Telepathy A skill that simply allows vampires to communicate with other vampires or those they have bitten within a week, letting them discuss strategy or simply have a discussion. The range of how far one must be from the other is vast, to be able to communicate one must be within the same country as the target. However, to be able to speak with them they must know each other. In the case of a progeny and a creator, they can talk to each other from across the world. The creator can also physically effect their progenies from anywhere, making them feel a longing to come to the one who turned them.
• The Rite of Blood Upon obtaining expert rank, you may use this ability only twice, so choose wisely. If someone has died and not yet rotted completely, you may bring them back as a vampire. The ritual is simple; shove a liter of blood down their throat, and then bring them somewhere with no light. Not even moonlight. If this is done before rotting gets too grim, after a few hours they'll rise up, as your progeny. Being a progeny has benefits and losses. The one who turned you into a vampire will always feel the desire to protect you, and will not do harm onto you. Similarly, you will feel the same protective instinct, preventing you from harming them as well. You literally can't find it within you to hurt them. The one who turned you can get you used to being a vampire; to the life of bloodlust, avoiding the sun, whatnot. However, you will always be connected to them in a way some may not like. Their words will influence you, and greatly. While they cannot simply 'command' you, they can make you want to do things that you wouldn't ordinarily do, and could almost certainly make you do things that you would ordinarily do. You want to impress them. They're like your rolemodel, and your mind can fall under the mercy of their will. This is the benefit of owning a progeny.
• Every knight has the ability to ignore pain in battle, even ignoring the pain of severed limbs for a certain amount of time.
• Vanguards are masters of single handed weaponry and shields. As such, they obtain a +1 in power to all single handed weapons (Jians, longsword, katana) and shield skills.
• Sunder: If using an attack and the opponent conjures up a barrier, the user may shatter the defense if it is two ranks below them. If the barrier is one rank below them, they can stagger the opponent with just sheer force, causing them to be so distracted with their next post that only one skill can be used.
